Jeremiah Watt-saddlemaker

Posts by Jeremiah Watt-saddlemaker

Blog 7-Life behind Bars part 7

Our galavanting traveler has been running with his wife for the last 7 days, and he is elated that she came to join him……..but that is ending all too soon. Our solo cyclist will be SOLO once again as of Thursday morning.

From the top of the cupola at Saint Stephans Cathedral in Budapest, Hungary.

So what all happened while you were not here to watch? Quite a bit if you want to know. We enjoyed such luxuries as $24.00 a night DELUX accomodations. FOLKS – I wrote the book on spoiling women while we travel, ever need advise on such matters just drop me an email. We took in 12,794 religious sites, cathedrals, convents, seminaries, a gas station and a funeral home.

During 7 days of travel, we hit 4 different countries, spent a total of 6 hours plus passing various border crossings, with the longest and slowest being that crossing from Ukraine into Slovakia……that was a real cat herding scenario that we survived. Fell in love with Romania all over again, I was worried that I would not like it as much the second time around but that was not the case. Mom loved it too which made it all the more fun. Rural Romania requires a visit, much more interesting than city life for me.

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The weeping willow represents the Jewish people lost from just the Budapest Ghetto. 650,000 plus leaves here have the name of those known to have died in camps during WW2.

We got to watch the CHANGING OF THE GUARD, at the Royal Palace in Budapest.

Ukraine, have to say that I feel sorry for the country. It was not long ago that a lengthy discussion broke out about poverty and how poor Poland was. Let me just say that Poland is approx. 3 times as wealthy in GDP per capita. I always thought Bulgaria was the poorest, but it is actually 2.35 times as wealthy as Ukraine which comes in at the very bottom of pooerest countries west of Russia. An amazing 2015 statistic of $2,145.00 euros per person per year. And as SOON as you cross that border you know you have just driven off the end of poverty street into the empty lot known as destitution. The crossing from Romania into Ukraine, then the crossing out of Ukraine into Slovakia was susch a dicotomy of poverty/wealth that it left you agast at the differences. It raises questions to no end, for instance the opportunity to attain democracy happened fo4 all these countries with the fall of the wall…..how can there journey towards democracy look so different at this stage.

Is the Ukraine under such poor political leadership, was the educational standards of Ukraine that vastly different before the wall fell? Understand that Ukraine is a huge country as european countries go, with a fairly sparse population per sq/km as averaged. It is like driving off Hawaii onto the surface of the moon different though, which is hard to fathom. I wont bother with a lengthy diatribe on how bad tjjis and that were, suffice it to say that if you take a rental car…….BUY THE EXTRA DAILY INSURANCE RIGHT THERE WHEN YOU RENT THE CAR AND NOT ONLINE. And take every piece of paperwork with you that pertains to the car, make sure you have it ALL.

The weeping willow represents the Jewish people lost from just the Budapest Ghetto. 650,000 plus leaves here have the name of those known to have died in camps during WW2.

twice now, I have had the chance to sit and dine with Monks as I traveled. Once with my son Pine on a mountaintop Monestary called Rarauliuli. I never actually thought that would happen again……..maybe because I didn’t include God in my doubts? Mom and I were walking the Budestci Monestary, nobody else was up there since it is quite literraly at the end of a rough and lonesome road. All the structures are wood, with a huge new building jsut being built at this time, by a crew of just 2 men for the whole structure. Further down the mountain we met the man who is hand making all the bajillion cedar shingles to be used.

This also is quite a common site. Tightly woven willow fence around the house yard, topped of with a shingled sort of roof so the fence lasts longer.

A lone voice calls out in Romanian, so I walk over and introduce myself to Priest Clavanic. He spoke quite good english I found after I introduced myself and Colleen. His first question was about my faith, was I of any faith? My reply was I am Christian which seemed to please him but he still wantrd to know more. We talked for maybe half an hour out on the front porch of the expansive a monestary where he has studied for half his life now. You must have lunch with me he said, and led us indoors to a very simple kitchen room. We had cabbage soup, and fried golden bream fish, along with many questions, and much time with a dictionary translator not google translator. Please ask me questions was his most common statement to us.

3 Hungarian fellows we met, they haul hay and straw to folks in small towns out on the edge of the Hortobagy. Hortobagy is the RANCHING COUNTRY of eastern Hungary.

The more questions you ask, the more I know about both you and your understanding of the faith we proclaim. His english was very good which caught me off guard?. So I asked him, how did you learn english so well sitting up here on a mountainside for so many years……………… MOVIES……was his reply. Say what.(high squeaky voice required here).

Just one of many all wooden churches that abound in the Maremures region of Transylvania. This particular Church was built 1624 and still has services every Saturday, and is located in Budestci Romania.

This is the weeks CHEESE in the making right here, hanging in the door draining. Pretty much each farmer makes his own cheese for the week.

Yup, movies. His favorite movie is…….wait for it……wait……War Room. What a fantastic movie he proclaims, he recommends this movie all the time when he speaks to groups of any denomination. Next is Perfect Stranger. We were told the history of the Orthodox Church, the ramifications of change and politics within the church hierarchy. The afternoon flew by, almost 3 hours later we knew we had to get going but hated to leave.

Rolled out of there and bumped our way down the road into the local town and a huge wooden church built in 1634 and still standing strong today with regular services every Saturday. Along came a cycling group from Poland so we stopped to visit with them for an hour……we had no idea how badly the roads of Ukraine would slow us down next.

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This is the new construction going on at the Budestci Monestary, all timber, all joined and wooden pegged. And all of it being done by just 2 men.

We passed thru Ukraine just praying the caar would not be swallowed in any one of the potholes that could as easily have been the excavation for a swimming pool. Holly cow folks, the roads are amazing………….LY BAD. We had a big plate full of perogies, with sour cream and suarkraut. Think of folded dough and inside is a bland of potatoes and bacon or finely chopped ham and onions. Its good stuff if you are raised eating them at farm fall suppers such as we had in Manitoba, Canada.

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Local fellow, wearing the little straw hat so prevalent in the Maremures region of Romania.

Headed for Slovakia next morning and the Tatra’s Mountains that are shared with Poland to the north. Drop dead gorgeous scenery, roads that make you embarresed to say your from California. Such a noticeable change in economy, it look much more like Germany or Switzerland when it comes to houses, farm yards etc. Really liked Slovakia when we got off on the small back roads, really liked the character of the region.

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Dropped into Hungary once again due north of Budapest. We made several efforts to stop and visit a saddle maker from Krupina Slovakia, our friend Radovan Krkos. But no such luck, coukd not find him anywhere on FB or around the town of Krupina. Sorry Rado, maybe next time. We celebrated our 35th anniversary while in Satu Mare, Romania. Went out for a nice supper at Kios Restaurant. I had a fanastic steak, and mom ordered fish. Great meal, great couple that own the restaurant.

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So much for my Superman status…..I just blew that while rolling my tent up this am. The saying that ” *%#>$@ happens ‘ and that it happens in 3’s…….folks it might just be true. It may even be Gods plan………didn’t Jesus tell Peter that a Cock would crow three times and each time he would denounce Christ…….see, there you go imperical evidence that God favors 3. Another for instance…….how many Stooges were there…..there ya go, even better evidence. Anyways, let me explain how I lost my Superman Cape status…….

My Cappuchin Monk friend, Paolo. I fully expect he will walk into my yard someday.

This all began close to 30 years ago while wrestling a bluing tank around on a cold morning…..yup, strained my back and bulged a disc. To that I say what man has’nt done that by the time he is 40 if he is doing any sort of work outside the confines of a cubicle and keyboard….nothing new there. So, I cycle, lift my wieghts and do some special “blue funk” top secret stretches to try and stay limber. My darling wife like to tell me I am LUMBER not LIMBER as she so easily bends and wraps her hands completely around her feet as she stands strait legged. Okay, so I am closer related to a 2 x 4 than a danged marsupial like her family.

Manuela and Jeorge along with kids from Germany. Pretty impressive group.

The flat farmland that flanks the Danube as it lazily winds its way south to the Black Sea.

Staying something akin to limber is a real issue for me, and with only minor tweaks I can be in bad shape in an instant. There I was, 6.15am, a peaceful even sunny morning here in CZ, just rolling up my camp mat, sacking it and turned at the waist to toss it out the door of the tent……..bingo. I knew right away I had turned wrong. Layed right down and done some stretchs for 1/2 hour or so trying to work it out…….actually thought I may have got things back in order by the feel of things. Packed up the rest of camp, got the bike loaded and headed out, sort of feeling my way along as I went.

Meet Herbert from Austria, and at age 77 he was an impressive and interesting fella.

I rode on, up hill and down for maybe 10 miles. I could tell on the push stroke on my right leg that things were not as they should be, not really painful, just very tight. Gods plan, Jeremiah make sure you are still on the right road. So, I roll over to the edge and in the shade of course so I can actually see my phone screen………..thats good I say, and release my right foot from the pedal now to catch myself as I brake to a stop. Its a smooth fluid motion for a cyclist, alot like dancing or ballet. Put that right foot down flat and stepped right into a hole several inches deep then the wieght of the bike caught up to me and ZOWSA, damn that hurt as a pain shot from my butt to the top of my head. I had to flatten my hair back down to put my Cool Horse cap back on. Wow, I am in a bad way now and I know it, I have been here before folks and it aint pretty nor pleasant. Not even sure how long I stood there, but awhile to be sure. Got the bike back up on the blacktop and began rolling along, checking and testing different parts of my personal drive train. Hills are going to be a pure pain, that much I can tell.

Then came part 3, rolling downhill and thru a sort of construction site on the lower edge of a small town. Several cars in front of me make a turn at this rather ??????? sign that I did not understand……so I rolled thru and on down a pretty gentle slope. Looking in the mirror I see no one is coming my way. Figured I must be wrong, so I braked and turned to the left and back uphill…..but, a little to sharply and tipped the bike back over to the right and lost my balance. You guessed it, downhill onto that right leg again. Oh baby, dont you know I wanted to cry right there, yowzer how can that hurt so darned much.

Country side, coming out of the last row of hills to the east of Vienna.

Got the bike going, and rode right over an old roman bridge I had no interest in taking a picture of or it would be event 4……… I just knew it. Up the hill I slogged to the first flat grassy spot and rolled out on the grass quite willing now to just die. Stretched for at least half hour, then got back on the bike and finished the ride up into the town of Zdar nad Sazarova. I stopped and lay flat near a park bench for an hour contemplating wbat I should do. Rolled upright and noticed something I did not notice when I stopped…..there was a small hotel RIGHT across the street from me. As of now I have spent 3 days here, the routine is a hot shower, a walk, half hour of stretching then lay flat for an hour. Then do it all over again till bed time and sleep flat without a pillow. Each day, I assess how I am moving and feeling. I can always tell by my hips and back. If the hips and back are locked up, I am officially in the semi-rigamortise stage of back failure. I have not been able to break my hips loose so I can take a smooth fluid motion type step, I am still Zombie walking. So at this point I am contemplating a 4th day to see how it goes.

As of this paragraph, there have been quite a few days worth of time have transpired as well as events that have happened. NO such luck, J’dub is not dead. And no he is not pregnant nor still laying on his back in a hotel. And finally , NO, he is not all back together just yet but working in that direction. So, let me catch you up on what and where our solo traveler is as of today. BUDAPEST as I type – WOWW, what a goegeous city. But more on that later.

Gustave, an Opera Singer for 30 plus years, and an unusual visit for sure.

South of Prague, lay a small town of Chotabor. Within that town is a talented fellow building what look like pretty nice saddle trees. I know, a tree maker in Europe is unsual. This fellow, Tomas Vinc, and his son have started an enterprise that includes handmade saddle trees as well as very nice looking wooden stirrups. It was an impressive albeit small workshop. Organised and layed out to produce trees efficiently. Some of this may be a derivitive of Tomas’s former life as a Mandolin maker doing it on contract for assorted companies around the world. Had a great visit with them both, learned alot about the countries struggles to swing towards a open market system after having been under communisim for so long. Some difficulties there that I had not even considered, we grow up within an open free market system and have no real understanding of how much time and rethinking it takes to actually bring it all about. Thier best guess, another 25 years. The answer is NO, they do not like Trump. And my sympathetic reply was…..who the heck cares. If you dine on media “crap”, you should expect a bad taste in your mouth afterwards.

Second bridge crossing the Danube as I enter Budapest from the north side of the river which is actually the city of Pest. Buda is on the other side.

Rolled up and out of the small hotel, it was time to move and head somewhere. My son, Pine, gave me some sound advice that I took. Dad, head for Vienna, its a gorgeous city, its along the banks of the Danube and it will be easier cycling. Put in 76 miles that first day, made camp in a small groove of trees and cooked a great sausage and had it on dark rye bread along with a cinder block sized piece of some sort of smoked cheese. This is the day that I found a certain type of drinkable yogurt that I always look for now. The drinkable yogurt idea comes from my Russian friend Vladimir…….you remember him, the guy that spanked me with branches back in the russian bathhouse. Yes, him. The yogurt is great for me till mid day then I quit it and go onto PASTRIES……just kidding…..kind,a. I try to get in some fruit, I dont screw with the veggies much while cycling. Next day should have been a piece of cake, my Google map showed me 25 miles from Vienna. Set out on cyclable roads, not bad traffic, but hills galore. Nothing real steep, just sort of 3-5% type hills, but just one after the other. Stroked a total of 61 miles that day, took in one 15 mile detour and fianally made it to Vienna. YES pooped to be sure. Back felt pretty good right here……should have just flown home!!!!!!

Just another homeless fella, selling his pencil doodles. But i never seen him finish one.

Took a shower, changed my clothes and hit the streets of Vienna in the evening. I was in a tiny $37.50 per night apartment not very far from the Votive Kirche (church). As my brother will attest, and some of you know all to well, JW is always headed for the next Cathedral. The Votive is a splendid structure, one of the very prettiest I have yet seen. If you are here in Vienna, take it in.

The Votive Church. STUNNING.

Sat and had a Viennese coffee, watched people for awhile and rolled it up for the night. JW, he is a morning light sort of fellow and to be out befor the crowds are there to mangle every attepmt a good shot. So by 5.30am JW was walking the city streets. I hit 5 new cathedrals that day. One for sure would rival that majesty of the Votive. Sadly though there were cleanjng the outer rock work so scaffolding and air hoses were everywhere………and an unbelievable number of used up tooth brushes laying around on the ground lol. Took in the Military Museum expecting so spend most of my time in the medium-evil section…….on,y to be told that the true HUGE collection of that type was at the Museum of Modern Art…….now who’da thunk???.

I am pretty sure I walked to much this day and stretched to little, because I arrived back at my apartment at 9.30pm and could barely navigate. Done all the uasual, hot shower, stretches etc but next morning was a beast. Rather than stay another day I decided to hit the trail for Bratislava. I was in Brat by about noon, had a great pepper steak and potatoes, walked the streets till about 4pm and rolled out of town heading east towards Budapest. There was a fellow in Brat who offered me a place to stay if needed also to show me around – many thanks Adrian Obselka, but I simply didnt find your message till the following day.

Kept pedaling towards Buda, pretty much just ride and stop once in a while for maybe coffee or ice cream etc. Cooked each evening, I met a family group of 7 headed for Buda. 3 adults and 4 kids from 11 to 14. Qjite a crew, there were doing about 800km over a 3 week holiday. All the bikes were loaded and no kid seemed to be suffereing to badly. We actually met several times. And no, these folks were from Germany and did not like Trump. My answer remains the same.

Just some fellow who was expounding his wisdom on 3 tourists sitting on a bench.

Thdr there was HERBERT. I think God put him in my path to teach me a lesson…….JW, quit your bloody whinning and whinging ya big gurl….as my aussie friend Ty would say. Herbert, is 77, turning 78 in August….but he is quick to say he is not 78 yet. His summer trip began in south of France on a fully loaded bike like that of my own. He rode EVERY mountain pass ever used in Tour de France. Somewhere in northern France he crossed over and across Switzerland heading into far westwrn Italy. Once there, he began riding every pass used in Giro de Italia all the way around the north of Italy, ending in the Dolomites and crossing over into Slovenia to ride the Julian Apls back and forth till he had to cross over into Hungary and make his way back home to central Austria. I wont bother to tell you all about his swimming 26 miles to attain his friedom when he was just 19, nor his climbing accident he had at late 20,s that fractured his neck. His only complaint to me was with his left hand. He had no grip, not enough to hold a fork for instance, and it just layed on the handlebars as he rode…………and me………….yup, my back is ouchy. I NEED A BARNEY BANDAID……. and a kick in the butt. This guys wears a very quiet Suoerman cape folks. We talked for over an hour, compared notes, griefs, would be,s and want to,s. I attempeted to tell him about Christ, but he would ahve no part of it, so we parted as friends who share the ride together but not eternity.

On we go, another lesson, met another couple, also from Germany. Lars and Veronica. Just 6 weeks ago, Lars was wiped out by a car and hit a curb and the stone fence. He broke 5 ribs on the left side, and fractured 2 on the right…..and here he was pedaling away and also headed for Budapest. I still have no idea just what drugs he was on, vut there were visible shades of both Bob Marley and John Lennon in his mannerisims

Saint pieter Cathedral, Vienna. Another outstanding sight.

“Hey, were you come”???? was rgw question as I pass rthis fellow on his rustic junk laden bicycle. I said hello, and was looking at a fellow mid seventies, should have shaved maybe 2 days ago. Rusty framed cycle, witha. Chunk of plywood on the back as a depository for that which he finds as he cycles along. Todays prize, the most worn out bike tire you have ever seen. Small hat to lend protection, a bareback mountain short sleeve plaid shirt and a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops was this fellows attire for the day. Oh, a pretty floppy flip flops I might add. Norway, was my reply, I started in Norway. “You be long” ? No, not really, just a month and a few weeks is all. “Come my house with coffee” he says. Well, I am trying to get into Budappest before it gets to late is my reply. “I make only 1km from dis path you make”, pleez come my house mit coffee for you”. Okay, okay, I come for coffee. I can see he will be heart broken if I pass his offer. The front of his bike is the home to the largest junk basket outside of the state of Texas ( easy now you Texans, before you get all knotted up. Not that Texas is a junk basket, its just that everything is bigger in Texas ……a point to ponder. If that be true, why is it you seldom see a recliner twice as big as the fella sitting in it…..just sayin)

This is what alot of my route has looked like. Pretty, and peaceful but bumpy and slow going.

Back to Gustave, my junk and plastic bottle collecting friend. Yes, every danged smashed flat plastic bottle on any part of road or sidewalk had Gustaves name on it and we had to get every one and “put in bazkit pleez”. Finally made it to Gustaves house, and he rolls up and slides a green gate to the side and rolles thru. Since I am behind he motions for me to slide the gate shut. I turn. Standing astraddle my bike and slide the gate shut hearing it latch I turn an begin to move forward. ……what the hell. GUSTAVE has dang near stripped naked in the time it took for me to close that gate……thats 15 seconds faster than most women with a brass pole in a club.

I guess my face, or maybe my eyes hanging out ontop me cheeks gave it away………to which Gustave simply says…”chew wan be comfitable?” No, really Gustave I can actually swallow coffee with my pants on…….thanks……I think. Gustave, stood thier like an innocent fairy nymph…….just him and his underwear. “Come, see my house…..suddenly I make Coffee…….yes”. I AM really wondering about my own itellect and life choices at times…….but I am here to have coffee wbile wearing my rubber pants. Baxkyard, pretty normal rural setting, big tree in this case a walnut for shade. A 4 legged table underneath that would maybe safer if it had like 6 legs possibly? A bench that needs 6 boards for seat and back…….but only has 2. “Pleez sit and be still, I suddenly make coffee`. Roosters and chickens take yp the opposing side of the garden area, beets, carrots and assorted other vegetables act as a fence between the chickens and us higher life forms. Apricots, hang like a solid viel off in the far corner. “What from you in Norway” comes crashing into my mental picture I was taking in…………..ah, Trondhiem……….I started in Trondhiem, Gustave. “You home”. No Gustave, I am from America.

A teenager i spotted while riding thru the last village before leaving CZ Republic.

Gustaves face is washed clean of color……….his eyes grow…………his countenance changes persievably as he stands facing me in his budgee smuggling underwear, me? I am counting steps to the bike………just what sort of shape is Gustave in……those sort of things. “Ach, I hate Ehmereeka” he says with a great deal of emphasis. “Everting bad comes from Ehmereeka”. Well now hold on here Gustave, I might the first American that you end up liking I say…….trying to end this quickly but on a positive note……….where the heck is that coffee he talked about is what I am thinking. So Gustave, how did you learn to speak Hinglish so well I ask him, trying to lead the conversation in a different direction. “I am singher” he says, and turns back to the house saying “we come inside yah”. My mind says hey Jim bob, he has the upper hand once inside, you sure you want this???? I step in, not a light on znywhere, its only 2pm, but no lights and all the blinds are drawn. “vroosh, vroosh he says, again with enthusiasm……Vroosh”. What, I says to Gustave……vroosh what. He motions for me to wipe my feet. “Dis my houz, it is big houz in Hungary”. Nice…..I think……..I cant see crap, and I dont know if I just touvhed a wall or a piano its so black. “You vash you hands……come here……..vash vit me” I look into tnis bathroom, Guatave washing his hands and the whole danged room is a bout 3 feet wide and 6 feet deep. He is washing his hands and face in a plastic bucket set in the sink…..at best a quarter inch of water in it. “Come, come vash vee have coffee suddenly”, he is motioniing for me to hoin hjm in the bathroom. I am like a panther in my approach, every muscle taught as a bow string, every tendon tensed to the max……if any one moves wrong……if anything that shouldnt feel right doesnt feel right, crap is going to hit the rotary ossilator folks. Gustave slides past me from behind and I…………..”VROOSH HERE PLEEZ” as he points to a tiny towel on a hook.

This guy should me the tiny Turkish Apricot trees that line many streets and roads here in Hungary.

Clang, bang, clink. Noises emminate from down near the door that i came in….but a little off the left as I walk that way. I can just make out Gustaves butt in the air, his head down and he is most of the way into a small closet off his very tiny kitchen. Being 70 plus, wearing a pair of underwear from VS and being bent over at the waist is not the best image of your host having you over for coffee. “Acch, heer is vat I was search….make das jews me in me own garden………you have some yah” Pink clored fluid in a reused 2 liter bottle being offered from a man wearing only his underwear……….will this be a Daummer re-enactment I wonder to myself. Sure I say, let me try some…….thanks, I will just take this outside wgile I wait for the coffee Gustave!!.

I sat there, doing a Circ de Solie balance on the garden bench sipping my wild cheery fruit juice…….whixh was actually very good. “The much sugar jew vant”, to whixh i replied, just one Gustave, one will be fine. “Vat, ehmereekan vit only von sugar”………”dis seems not right”……..suddenly I bring…….okay”.

Met this fellow while we were both inside the Church in a tiny town in Slovakia.

“You ar not such like Ehmreekans I tink…….even dah name you tell is not Maybe usual” he says as he sits down on the bench with me. ” dis name, how you say dis one time more” Jeremiah I tell him, its Biblical, he was a prophet in the Bible. “Nachh, dis not bibla name, no bibbla, vhere dis is”…….”juss be still……..I be look at somting”……..he walks behind me into what appears to be a garage. I can hear him runnageing and now coming back. “Dah, heer in dis vee find what you say maybe no ehh” he is flipping thru the back of a Hungarian Bible. ” dah, dis says no”. Can I see this Bibla Gustave? You see just a few days before I had a conversation with a Cappuchin Monk and we discussed my name and went thru a translation etc…….so I had been prepared for this moment. I turned to the front, the index and went down thru the books of the Old Testement till I got to JEREMIAS and handed jim the Bibla. “ACHH, be showed by Ehmeerecan, not can beeleeve”. I one swallowed the coffe, done the same with the fruit juice, set my camera up for a quick pic and asked once again……Gustave where did you learn Hinglish so vell???? ” I vas Opera Singher fur tirty yeers…….over whole vorld I am sinhing………but I never go Ehmeerika……never”. I took my leave with that as quickly as possible. I was on my way to Budapest.

Beggars, 3 of them. Each with a mournful face, wrinkles beyond there actual age, and each with cloths strait off the latest Mad Max set……..hands held out and the most pitiful look. These poor guys, they were approaching a Scottish Christian. They had no idea that his mind is soft, his heart is hard, and his wallet is welded shut. I was turning to tell them that what they needed was not my money but Christ in that building over there………looking back lver my shoulder, and what was in view was not a church but a brwon roded monk. He greeted these fellows, declined them money…….telling me he must be Scottish as well. I let him finish up with the beggars and went over and talked with him. We spent over and hour together, actually walked back over to the Monestary that he resides in and learned a little about his priestly order and thier role. They began 1524, known as the “beggers order”, they were to own nothing, work for bothing, and live from what was freely given them. They are in return to pray for and bless those they meet wgo know not yet of the good news of christ. 6 years training beffore you can even think of attampting becoming a Priest. Most in his Cappuchin order are 15 years before they go to that step. Rock and roll guitar, long hair and the latest techno gadgets were my life says Paolo, but one day I found myself hanging from climbing chains on the mountain called Transfagaras in Romania. I was sick, I was sick of being restless and worried, I think I actually passed out and I was up there climbing by myself. I found myself laying there looking up into clouds, maybe even dilirious……but it was clear to me that God was asking me……..what is this life that I have given to you all about?? That was the turning point says Paolo, I gave my life over to Christ and a I walk a path now that is about OTHERS and not myself.

Here, let me help you with that I said as i pedalled past and parked my bike. A couple, close to my age were trying to get a selfie with them and the convent behind them as you ride into Budapest from the north. This was paul and Beatrice from Belgium. There riding from Passau Germany to Constantin on the Black Sea. Paul is a 30 plus times marathon competitor, a lofe long school phys ed teacher, while beatrice runs an open air Museum of some sort…….that part I didn’t quite understand. We talked about the road, the sights and what we all expect. Short visit but a good one as they usually are along this path we call LIFE. Folks, we are blessed everyday, more often than not we fail to even recognize it as such because we want to see its face value instantly rather than wait on the Lord to let his plan play out in our lives.

Blog 5-Life behind Bars part 5

Our life behind Bars for this chapter begins in far western Poland, as our sojourner and his steel conveyance rattle thier teeth and bolts loose on primitive rural roads. One can be riding along, taking in scenery and greenery and basking in the shade of immense hardwoods…….

Then just as quickly, your reality is shaken and you are rescuing your cycle and yourself from a pothole the size of a parlor stove. Or what’s worse is coming down out of shade on blacktop and hitting old stone cobble that just sends you and your bike in 4 different directions. Your teeth are clacking like a lettuce chopper, you recover the bike with a white knuckle grip ( first mistake, use a loose grip ) you recleat your left foot again as it keeps popping out of the pedal, push your sunglasses back up somewhere near the middle of your face……straiten your hair to add with forward visibility, and say to yourself with an aire of confidence……..yay, I got this. Only to look over into the blinding sunshine and see 2 grama’s who had been tending thier garden plot……… with all the rattling bike parts and suggestive language they stopped to watch another one bite the dust, ………there hips be moving, thier lips be groovin…..Oh yeah, and another one bites the dust……..she smiles with all four teeth…… and says in a laid back southern Polish drawl….”Prodiskovich dacknia kwoloensivich bicikleta heymigo”, which you just know that it means ” how do like Polish roads amigo”

Smile, you are God’s ambassador I say to myself……….you can put your own teeth in later where no one can see you. About half my roads were tree lined hardwood affairs with substantial shade and blacktop. But, allow me to point out that the majority of rural roads here are paved over pre-existing cobble. This makes for and interesting road after just a few short years. The new road is aimed at accommodating newer heavier vehicles and as such it is about 6 feet wider than the cobble….or better described as 3 feet give or take both sides. Those outside edges are not packed near as tightly as the cobbles……so the outer edges collapse into these sort of wave type undulations. This is problematic while riding in the shade and being passed, because the bike is getting tossed about as you are trying to hold a true and safe line. It will cause the the sphincter to grip the bike pants like Polydent.

Needless to say, I really enjoy Poland. Yes, I do understand it is one of the poorer countries of Europe…. but somehow I can’t get over a sense of true honesty here. A sort of…..this what we have, and it’s our best.

I am riding back towards Germany for personal reasons, work related. There is a young German bitmaker who is doing very nice work by the name Andreas Winkalham, and while I visited with him he mentioned a German brand of Flux that I want to try. Only available in Germany so that’s why I am back here before I cross into CZ Republic. Never did find the Flux. Rode on into the low lying hills that lay along the border of CZ, these are just baby hills as true cyclist/climbing freaks would say. But as steep as 17% will make you beg for baby flats. There are about 2 days worth of riding in rolling steep country and then the countryside begins to flatten out as you near Prague. CZ is a wealthier than Poland, and while I am not far into CZ yet it does seem to be visible in housing, cars etc. I guess I will know better over the next few days as I ride south of Prague. I rode quite a few cycling paths coming into Prague, while my bike appreciated it, I wasn’t real fond of the wandering nature and lack of markings or direction at times. Oh well, it’s safer and the soul rests well at night.

Riding thru Sulecin Poland I spotted a young fella and took a chance on him maybe understanding english….low and behold, he taught English in grade school. He only had a few minutes, so I asked him the state of education in Poland. His answer, if we could take politicians out of school curriculum, and place it in the hands of teachers answered parents we could win the education battle. The kids are eager, plenty bright enough to succeed, but each political wave comes in with answers better mouse trap ND a way for some portion of a burocrasy to make a little side money if they could just get there hands into the till…………I sat stunned……I thought he was talking about education in California.

While passing thru Krosno Odrazarskie Poland and of course while parked out front of a Pecarina (bakery) I happened to meet Clara and Swenson now living locally but originally from Iceland. Seen has a book published that details his walk around the perimeter of Iceland 1,485km. Full of foot massage stories and photos he has taken of the a drugs trip. Dang if someone out there knows how to turn off this damned auto spell on wordpress please let me know…..it takes forever to go back and fix all the bloody words it throws in for me……Colleen becomes Cullen, and Muskox turns into muskogee, on and on it goes. Anyways, they were a real nice couple to meet.

Prague is a great city to wander in, like many other European cities I have roamed around in. Amazing architecture, artistic nuances lay hidden or obvious everywhere it seems. The older the building, the more interesting they are to me. Just can’t find a lot of interest or appeal in the new cantilevered glass and cement edifices being designed by today’s architects. But hey, that’s just me, if If they would just install a lime green stairway made entirely of carbon fiber ……why heck then it would be worthy of its on exculsive TV show buildings are to me. Maybe run a few support cables in gayly painted red, and a tin roof with exposed duct work and industrial ceiling fans?………yeah, I could be convinced that was good work.

Spent my first rest day roaming around Prague trying to solve a bike issue. My wonderful ( better that a Son28 hub ) Shimano Alpine 6v hub finally died. I redone the wiring joints which I had last had fixed in Tetserling, Mongolia. This did not solve my issues, found some small Guage wire and new joinery and still not solved. Finally bought a low voltage tester and found the hub was not producing anything. Yes, pretty stupid of me to buy the tester last……..but it was also the store that was furthest from my downtown Old Prague location and my apartment I had rented for $37.50 @ Nite……which was perfect by the way. So then began the search for bike shops, replacement hubs etc. WOW, here I got to say God bless American capitalism, you want something and American will figure out a way to get it for you the day before you knew you needed it and SMILE while they are selling it to you. My best quote was 8-10 days to get a new hub, sitting in Stock in CZ. 5 DAYS TO GET THE PART AND 4 TO 5 DAYS TO INSTALL…………complicated process they kept telling me.

Finally, being completely fed up, and by no means excited about sitting around Prague for that many days. Yes, I do love Prague but my legs need to be moving and turning……..my feet are swelling from lack of movement. I solved my issues by calling the best bike shop on the planet Rubber Soul Cycle shop, and my man Rich will take care of things…….yes with an amiable smile. I will have Colleen bring it with her to Budapest and we will install it there. I have about 8 days with Colleen before she heads back west, leaving me to finish the rest of this journey solo. Just one mans life behind Bars, a Surly cycle under me and a foul smelling tent. I hope you enjoyed this segment of our journey as we traverse Europe from Trondhiem to Istanbul.

Blog 4- Life behind Bars part 4

Missing images taken with my camera while riding thru Norway. Sorry, but it has taken me up until now to find a card reader that fits a mini-usb port. So, this will be all images and no text. While I am sitting here downloading and working on this blog post, I got 3 messages asking about the brilliance of some of the images seen in blog post 3. Let me explain, my camera is old at least as far as digital go, so not alot of fancy options. The camera is a basic, Canon SX50. I love it for what I am doing. My phone however is new S8, and in camera mode it has a HER or high dynamic range setting. I Have been playing with that feature to see if I like it and if I can tell the difference. Sometimes I can and feel the difference is worth it, other times…..I am sort of ho-hum about it. So there you go, you know more about photos than I do now. Hope you enjoy, and your day is blessed.

Blog 3- Life behind Bars part 3

Life behind Bars, as one man journeys solo from Trondheim Norway south to Istanbul Turkey. This is part 3 of that journey, and we will pick up where Jeremiah and Shirley his bike were on that last post.

Blog 1-Life behind Bars- preparations

Life behind bars, a solo cyclist wanders, but not searching for himself . Not some deeper meaning to life itself, rather it’s to experience the world and all that it has to offer for those willing to get out and look. A life experience, with its warts and all, as seen from the seat of a bicycle at 10 miles an hour. A God experience, I admit the world is too large for me to explain in any other way. Read more

Blog57-RTW gear review

GEAR REVIEW FOR AROUND THE WORLD CYCLING

Jeremiah Watt, an RTW adventure cyclist, says like almost everyone who tackles a long and epic adventure such as around the world by bicycle, will end with an opinion on gear and the needs for a cyclist as he travels. I am then no different than many who have come before me, except that my opinion on gear and camp life nessessities may differ. So, lets get started as Jeremiah lays out his thoughts, the pros and cons of gear, planning, blogging etc.

Informative blogs, as travellers I think its imperative that we read and follow as many as possible. They educate, inform and prepare a would be traveller as too what we may have for expectations with regard to such things as food, money/currency questions, routes, accessories. As far as Jeremiah is concerned, and his opinion, read as many as you can find, that deal with the adventure and route you intend to take.

Smart phones, I dont care who makes them, or what version that you may have……they just ain’t that smart when you are stuck in the middle of Mongolia and no signal……or even no GOOGLE mapping feature. I love mine, and dont want to be without it, but dont place your life in an online mapping service, have some basic paper road maps with you. And do not depend on the translation apps for anything other than single word translations. You could find that trying to translate an entire sentence may have you accidentaly placed in front of a fireing squad LOL. I carried a Samsung S4 phone.

Tablet or small laptop. I chose a 10″ Samsung Galaxy2 tablet and found it perfectly capable for my needs and my many images. Besides all that, I could charge my tablet thru my Shimano front dyno-hub. I found this to be particularily useful.

Cameras, my son carried two Go-pro units and we really liked the video and image quality that we got from the units. These items also returned home with my son when he flew back from Bucharest. Jeremiah, carried his Samsung S4 phone for panoramas, which is does beautiful with. And for digital cameras, he carried a Canon SX50 HS camera. I really like this type camera, its easy to use, plenty of range on the lense, and does not kill batteries quickly. All plusses when traveling. I had downloaded 2 different apps for handling the editing of images as I traveled. Jeremiah uses Pixlr Express for the bulk of the editing, really like this app. I also have Photoshop Touch on my tablet, this is a powerful app, make no mistake, but it is just so much slower than the Pixlr software. All totalled, I filled 3 of the class 10 x 64gig cards, and 2 class 10 cards of 32 gig capacity. Thats alot of images folks, and almost no video was shot on these cards. For storage, we added an external micro SD card of 128gig capacity.

Bike, that Jeremiah rode was a Surly Long Haul Trucker. This has proven to be a bullet-proof all steel frame with nary a failure nor weakness. I love, love, love this bike says Jeremiah.

Racks, I know that the cycling world loves Tubus brand racks and most likely for good reason. With that said, on our 2 bikes, we ran Surly Brand expedition racks both front and back. Put all bolts in with a drop of blue Loc-Tite. Never lost nor broke a bolt, no failures what-so-ever. One thing I really liked about the Surly racks was the racks had a good top base to support added bags and crap that we cyslists tend to carry, Tubus racks to not have this luxury.

Stove, my choice of stove was loved and hated. All due to fuel issues. I had an Esbit brand alchohol fuel stove, from Ukraine and on west it was not much problem finding fuel. It cleaned up well, cooked just fine, was light and efficient for us as we travelled. Once we arrived in USA, it was a piece of cake to travel and use this little stove. The real problem lay within Russia, Mongolia and China…..you will pull your hair out finding fuel in any of these countries and find yourself wishing for a different stove, as we did. Have to be honest here, that had we been using canister fuels, in some pllaces that also would have been a problem. We carried a multi-fuel stove for a while, but got tired of its leaks and everything smelling like fuel in short order along with the ports being plugged up and constant cleaning..maybe, there is no perfect stove?

Seats, at home I ride a Fizik seat and really like it. But on all day tours, I ride a Brooks-B17. This seat is not only comfortable but looks like a million dollars after its broke in. I think it takes close to 1000 miles to actually have the seat breakin and conform JMO.

Wheels/Rims, Jeremiah chose 26″ wheels after much discussion and advice on blogs. But in retrospect I would say that the 27″ are by far more available in those places such as morthern China, Mongolia and eastern Russia. There were actually several places where we could not find any 26″ wheels, but had choices of several 27″ wheels and tires. My rims, front and backwere Ryno-Lite double walled, with a 40 spoke count, 4 cross pattern x 12ga. spokes front. On the rear wheel I used the same rim brand, but 48 spoke count x 4 cross pattern. Back hub was a Phil Wood hub, fantastic hub. Front hub is a Shimano Dyno hub and it worked flawlessly the whole trip. ( NOTE, my son rode with me on the same bike setup, same wheels and same rims for 4 months. We set his bike up with a Son28 hub, and where always dissappointed. Very miserable wiring connections at the hub itself, always broke loose from brush and or vibration. I have too say, that we sent them 2 emails regarding problems we had been having with this hub, and never heard a word back from them) Would never place this hub ahead of my Shimano dyno hub.

Tyres/Tires, depending on where you grow up and how it is spelled. Make no mistake about it, if you choose anything other than a Schwalbe brand tire, you are asking for more trouble while touring. Schwalbe brand tires, in my case Marathon Plus version x 1.75 width they proved to be invincible. We met several other long distance tourers and most ran the same tire as what we placed on our bikes. For our choice in tubes, we just ran condoms with a valve stem. The lightest tubes around. We added tire liners inside the Schwalbe tires.

Patch kits, this may sound rather harsh, but you cant take chances on being in the middle of no-where and need a patch kit. So, chose Rema Tip-Top Touring patch kits. You can be assured that the glue is fresh, and patches stick. I equipped my sons bike with Patch kits from Parks Brothers and NONE of the glue was useable PERIOD, bought at 2 different stores and several months apart.

Frame pump, floor pump????. Jeremiah admits that he must be the only idiot who cannot depend on blowing up a tire to full pressure, or without wrecking the valve stem during the process when using the ultra-lite frame style pumps. With that confession made, Jeremiah has never been left sitting on the side of the road cussing at the broken stem on his last danged inner tube iether…..because I always carry a full floor pump. Yes, they are heavier and bulky for sure. When I left, I had a Lenzyne Traveller floor pump……a gorgeous unit and not at all heavy, a perfect full sized travel floor pump. But the constant bump and jar of Chinese and Mongolian roads completely messed the pump up, beyond use. To Lenzyne’s credit, I sent them an email telling them of the state of the pump and they replaced it with a very apologetic letter. The only problem was that the replacement was sent to my home in california, a matter that I dont hold against them, I like the fact they stood behind the product. We replaced this pump with a $1.29 cent floor pump at the black market in Bayan Olgii, Mongolia……it worked flawlessly and was super light. Had this pump till it was taken away from me in Portugal at the Airport when flying home.

Solar charging system. As stated, we had Dyno hubs on both bikes to charge such things as our phones and tablet as we rode. In addition to this charging method, we had a Goal Zero Sherpa battery pack unit along with the Goal Zero 20 panel array. However, this proved to be lacking for rugged use, no matter how we tried to take the harshness and rigors of travel out of the equation. By mid way thru Mongolia, both the panel and the battery units failed completely and were sent home. To the Company’s credit, they fully replaced both units and were very apologetic about it all, but again, the replacements were sent to my house in California.

Tents. For my expedition I chose the REI Quarter Dome tent, which is an ample 2 man tent with a gear shed on both sides, allowing 2 loaded tourers to keep everything out of the rain except for the bikes themselves. My son and I done this on several occassions in blowing sand as well as heavy rain. I really like this tent says Jeremiah, it has a larger floor plan than most 2 man tents, good sized gear sheds leave room for gear or cooking under during pouring rain. The tent proved to be strong and durable for my use. In my opinion, the only fault found with this tent, is its poor wind resistance ability during wind events, in this scenario, it is very poor, and the camper MUST find refuge for the tent or suffer the consequences. Even a little wind will flatten this tent.

Convertors, whether E-Werks brand which is fully adjustable to any/everybattery……or a very simple Sinewave version for half the price or less. We had both and tested both. I will take the consistant simplicity of the Sinewave version hands down says Jeremiah. The other version, while technically a more intuitive and thought out convertor, it proved over and over again to be farless able to place as much charge in any battery as did my Sinewave convertor. Besides that, the user has do pull batteries, do some calculations, turn three times to the left followed by one turn to the right while at the same time sticking his tongue out and you come up with an Amp and Joule setting, of which you need to make both settings correctly……..yes, correct, it comes with 3 feet of chord on it for good reason, that way you can throw it further out into the ditch and never feel like you should go looking for it. Stick with the Sinewave unit and wear a smile.

Sleeping mats, Jeremiah uses a 30″width Luxury Traveller by Thermo-rest and loved it. Not a single issue except that they begin to stink after a while on a long journey. So, I began a habit of giving it a serious scrubbing every couple months, and this helped alot. No holes, no patches, no leaky valves haunted me as I travelled.

Panniers, it goes without saying that the top of the line bags/panniers are those made by Ortlieb. They are not cheap, because they are well made and function everyday in the harshest conditions, dont try to scrimp and save on bags. Just call Wayne at the Tour Store an online provider of Orlieb brand product and you will be set for years.

Sleeping bags, now I had a Moutain Hardware bag, a mummy style, zipper sided and rated to minus 15. The bag proved capable in the temps that I camped in during this trip, and so for that I am happy. BUT, the bag design has one serious flaw that will cause a Pastor to cuss, and a sailor to blush when he hears it. The problem, is the stinkin zipper flap which stops wind blowing thru the zipper when zipped up. The fabric tape used is too short in length for one thing, and also way to flimsy. So as a result, the damn zipper is ALWAYS STUCK. Middle of the night, pitch black, this will really test your patience. By Romania, some 4 months into the trip, Jeremiah had had enough of this hassle. I took out my tiny scizzors, and just hacked the damned little protective flaps off of both sides of the zipper. While not a complete cure, it did help in the bags performance for the rest of the trip.

RTW advice, dont over plan the trip. By doing so, it leaves no room for God to work and reveal himself. Dont over pack clothes, keep it very basic with layers, you can always buy an extra piece of warmer clothing as you go. I for instance rode in 1 pair of Pearl Izumi bib shorts for the entire trip, I think the Pearl brand is the most rugged brand of cycling clothing on the market today. I also think its designed to fit Americans, we tend to be a little larger and carry more wieght than most Europeans or asians for instance.

Blog56-blessed,finished, and glad to be home

Jeremiah Watt, and his very dependable (RTW) round the world steed, Shirly Surly which is a rim brake, 26″wheeled Long Haul Trucker steel framed bicycle, have officially concluded thier adventure. The cycle tour came to its final conclusion on Wednesday the 25th of March….just 3 days after Jeremiahs 59th birthday. Just want to say a very large thankyou to many family and friends who have Prayed for me, thanks. Several Pastor friends, my hometown pastor, Mike Markley from here in Coalinga, who has lead the saints on several pray for the “spandex cowboy” sessions. And to my adopted Pastor from the Holland, he has been praying for blessings on both Pine and I since we met him and his wife at Voronetz in Romania, thankyou. And to my preaching cowboy Pastor Ted and Linda Wiese for thier constant prayers.To several business associates from here in USA, China and Taiwan, Canada and Russia. To all of them I say thankyou for your patience and tolerance with my being out of the office so much…..like danged near a year…..thanks.

Most especially, I want to acknowledge my wife and my thanks to her for all she puts up with from me. Thankyou Colleen, I love you and cherish your council and your unending affection. Deserved or not, you never hold back and give me 100%. If ever I fall short on strength or conviction on my biblical walk, you are right there, like guideposts on my roadway. I have 2 beautiful children because of her genetics…..apparently none of mine show up…..mystery.

Jeremiahs last blog post had him taking a deserved day off and sitting in a motel room in Barstow. With the blog entry and images finished up, Jeremiah walked next door and had americanized Chinese food. Hit the sack pretty early and got up about 5.15am. He and Shirley were rolling in the pre-dawn hours of what would be breezy day all the way west towards Tehachapi. Not much can be said about the stretch between Barstow and Mojave, except maybe YUP, done that piece before. Had a meal in Mojave and took sort of a backroad out of this wind farm encroached town, a road that winds its way up over the mountains then drops into the valley that holds Tehachapi. The wind was howling and finding a spot to set up my wind challenged tent was very problematic. Done my best, but by 4 am, I knew that I had a problem and it needed to be dealt with. So I crawled out of the abode, and grasping the crossing of poles at the top of the tent, I reached down with my freehand and dislodged the closest corner guy-rope…..at some 90 miles an hour the tent kited out to the ropes end, burning my hand upon its exit…..hit the end of its tether and flipped totally inside out bending poles and spraying tent stakes like a lawn sprinkler. Cowboys……gotta love thier mentality…..its instant blood boil….followed by a “comeer you SOB….an I’ll show you”. I hauled the tent back by the one tiny chord that I stiil held fast……total darkness and groping for orientation…….got a fabric corner and pulled it to my face to figure things out……oooops, there goes the danged ballcap Jim-Bob, cock your head a little and turn just slightly said my mental elevation control panel……and I listened and executed to near perfection. A snapping sound, followed by that crisp noise a sail makes when it engulfs a full load of aire……followed by now complete blindness as the tent sprang from its final tent peg mooring and reversed its current fold to capture me entirely as it changed its course in the prevailing wind.

Rip stop nylon, coated zippers, seamed tent peg pockets and fly screen were stuck to my legs and face as if by glue….no part could be lifted away without some other piece of fabric filling the void……Jeremiah is running short of breath, and visual acuity is now zero as the flapping fabric envelopes my head. My mental emergency responce unit came into play and issued a dire oxygen awarness warning and a dissorientation buzzer sounded which ley me know my internal gyroscope was now malfunctioning due to a lack of oxygen and a blotted out horizon line…….TURN IMMEDIATLY TO THE RIGHT JEREMIAH was the advice…..which I did like an automaton, and the tent sprang from my body like a leopard from a tree branch. A sharp jerk at arms length, and a burning palm was my gift for allowing the tent to once again flip inside out and capture a full sail of wind. The mental preservation unit once again kicked in with advice which is totally computer driven…….bout as usefull as advice about work from a teenager or almost anything from Al Gore for that matter. Shutup I said, what do you know about camping anyways I heard my reply, as it tried in vain to warn me……..I stomped my left foot down in the middle of the billowing tent and grasped a corner and whatever bent poles I could find. Wrapped any loosed fabric left over, around my arm and proceeded to stuff it into an empty pannier. Not really caring, nor looking for that matter, just getting it contained and constrained was my goal. The sun had not even begun it’s match over the eastern horizon, camp was packed, the bike was ready to roll. Nothing to do know but get started.

About 8 miles separated me from Tehachapi, which meant that the previous day I had logged some 83 or so miles into a stiff head wind…not bad for an old fart. Rolled of the top of the ridge and down into Tehachapi, stood for a moment wondering what to do next. I was supposed too call my friend Matt Sheridan, and my intention was to do just that if it had been a normal day……but here I am at 5.45……..and I would be waiting till when……? Done what every cyclist with a yearning to get home would do, I rolled right out to the 4 lane known as 58, and sailed downhill into Bakersfield. Rode on thru most of town then stopped for a cup of coffee and breakfast. made a left hand turn onto 7th Standard road and was now headed for the west side of the San Joaquin valley. By about 3.30pm, I was on the west side but totally unsure of my tent situation and was pondering what to do…….a truck rolled up and offered me a lift. Gladly I said, and caught a ride almost 40 miles north to Hwy41 junction and the closest motel to where I was. Inside the room, I figured out the state of my tent and hit the hay. About 77 miles covered that day while on the bike.

The following day, I would ride from Hwy 41 on up to Jayne Ave which is abot 12 miles from Coalinga. Sitting at a Shell Station, I called my wife and got the bad news……….I was not allowed to come home till the following morning after 10am. For about 4 hours I read Tom Clancy’s novel, Executive Actions while sitting out front of the store. Sometime along about 5pm, my Pastor and my other good friend Larkin snuck up on me as I sat reading and surprised the heck out of me as I sat. They had a plan of taking me out to supper, which sure sounded nice, but, I declined since I had made plans to cook my last meal in my tent. It made me feel bad, sorry guys, but I was defermined to close this expecition out like an adventure expedition.

My morning began at 7 and I pedaled into Coalinga to have coffee. Called the wife and let her know that I was coming home….ready or not so too speak. Headed up the canyon and stopped to visit with nieghbours as I rode. First I met the ranch owner where I live, Ted Denhartog. From tnere I went to pray with my Pastor and Miss Mary at the church before I headed up the canyon. About that sametime, our friend “Uncle Leonard” came along to say hello and wish me well. Next up was my mailman and a friend, Daniel. Rode on aways to Alcalde Ranches and visited with Natasha and Chance, checked out her greyhounds and the new barn they have been putting up since I left. Just a ways further up I got to say hello to the Warthan Canyon beeman, Don. Within maybe 3 miles of home, I met Sharon, my former secretary and her husband Norv, along with our now retired phone man Jim, and his copilot Mr. Ramsey. It was a magnificent morning up Warythan Canyon, as cattle of all colors dotted the sides of those sunwashed hills. Granite spires and wildflowers thrown in as if by a painters hand, adding interest and color. It was aneasy ride, drawn as if by a string or maybe magnetic power towards first my mailbox then just a mile and a half further my house. The road from the mailbox to the house had been painted with thenames of all the countries that Pine and I had ridden thru on this odyssey. At the gate, I was met by 2 of Teds( ranch owner ) grand-daughters and they on bicycles, escorting me into the last 150 yard stretch too the house, the shop, my yard, waiting friends and employees, Colleen, Pine and the dogs and cats that make our home, our home. So thankfull to all of you and especially to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ for guiding and ushering me thru on this journey one road and one hill after another.

Special thanks to;
Colleen Watt my wife, what can I say but that she is truly the glue that binds my home and business together.
Pine Watt for sharing the first 4 months of the journey thru the hardest section, and for keeping me going. Its you that made it happen.
Nevada Watt, my daughter for her constant support and encouragement.
Ted & Tracy Denhartog, the owners of the ranch where we get to live, its paradise, thanks
Hyun Ku Kim, of China for his support and friendship, his fantastic sendoff party, many thanks.
Jack Ann of South Korea, for his constant prayers while we were traveling and for praying over us when sending us off.
Sunny Yan, of China for his support and prayers as we traveled
Vladimir, Gaia and Roman Kolchetkov of Russia for thier welcome into thier home and fine meals and encouragement.
Yves, Miriam and Erin Lesire of France for welco ing me into thier home and thier warm hospitality.
Georges and Natalie Braile also of France, thier constant friendship and continued support, thanks.
Pierre Duinat my Basque friend, a warm home and many meals.
Orzuri Urrutia, a great gal from the Basque region, who allowed me the use of her mailbox at desparate times.
Ryan, Tracy and Chloe, who welcomed a biker back to America, fed him and allowed him to play with Chloe’s toys.
Niel Watt, my brother, who took a chance on riding with me in Europe as well as New Mexico, many thanks.
Lee, Kendra, Rayce and Kollins Griggs, who provided a welcome home to me during a stormy section thru New Mexico
Darby & Dalette Adams, for thier friendship over many years and consistant support and encouragement.
Niel and Debra Overton for thier long lasting friendship and support.
Deahl Rooks for his many years of friendship and consistant encouragement.
Pastor Mike Markley and wife Jeana for constant prayers and the rousing of the faithful saints to do the same, thanks.
Pastor Hindrik van Diijken of Holland, for continued prayers and encouragement to prevail in the name of Christ that he may be glorified.
Valentin Daniel Olariu, for his friendship and gift of Portugese wine to enjoy over Christmas Holidays
Weaver Leather, to the entire staff for allowing me to be missing from action for almost a full year, many thanks

Blog55-like a homing pidgeon

Late in the day, sepia tone, desert heat is just begging.

Jeremiah Watt, and Shirley Surly his Long Haul Trucker bicycle, are being drawn like a homing pidgeon on there Round The World cycling journey, thru deserts, over mountain passes and along sweltering ribbons of blacktop……all in an effort to bring this epic adventure to its conclusion. For Jeremiah to be drawn as if by a homing beacon means less visiting with folks as he travels, less images of the passing countryside and fewer meals from passing restaurants as he makes his way west backhome to California. “I sure wouldn’t want to be much later in the year riding these stretches because California is making its first real effort to warm up for the summer, and the heat reflected off the roads will wear you down and sap your strength. I have begun to carry a total of 7 liters of water tnru the day as well as an extra liter of GATORADE as a treat to inspire me to ride on just a few more miles so that I can have a sip……the ol’dangling carrot routine still works”. I trust in the promise of Isaiah 40:31, But for those who hope in the Lord will renew thier strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not grow faint…….I am on the ragged edge in several places during this leg.

The powerful draw of home, family, friends and yes even my daily work routine. Is somewhat of a dangerous mental distraction at times. I find that my mind dwells upon it and all that it holds instore for me, leaving me riding in a bit of a “haze at the moment”. I dont ride with music nor any thing of the sort, all because I dont want a momentary distraction to leave me in trouble there on the road. Thats all fine and dandy, its easy to remove external objects of distraction……but when your brain begins to wander and day dream thats a far more difficult obstacle to overcome. So, I Prayed for one thing, somethjng I am not great at but certainly do it knowing its my connection to the Big Fella who gave me the World to ride around. And secondly, I began sketching in my mind new items to produce within my little hardware company called Horse Shoe Brand Tools. I would build entire groups of saddle hardware products, then make simple sketches at night when I stopped so that I could jog my memory once I got back home. This proved to be very useful for me and left my mind with the ability to concentrate on the here and now of passing traffic. Much of which was danged close at times.

Left out of Springerville on a cool morning with clouds that threatened rain as a gift for me somewhere along the way. To the south of Springerville lies the taller mountains and the local ski areas, these hills were also the moorings for the dark grey flotsam that would stalk me all day like an MI6 agent. Riding north by NW out of town, leaving civilization in the comfort of its small town streets, with food for 2 solid days, water enough to make camp as I wished, Jeremiah and Shirley Surley plodded thier way over one long mesa climb after another. We climbed so much that we broke into stands and pine tress and bright blue sky, leaving cloud and rain behind us. The infamous Mogollon Rim ( pronounced – Muggy – yon Rim) by the locals, its crimson red rock facade rippled and folded like a Vaudeville theater curtain over my right shoulder. The scent of freshening Pine filled the air, all sort of Day 6 creatures filled the air above and ground around me. Could a ride get any prettier than thru this stretch of north eastern Arizona, I think not really. And just 75 miles north of me, on Interstate 40, I know there are car loads of tourists asking each other……..”OMG, how much longer does this go on” as they blaze thru the sandy scenery along that faster but far less sceneic route.

About halfway between Heber and Payson, Jeremiah would find a quiet spot among lofty Pines, upon a deep bed of crimson pine needles on which to lay down his tent. A fine supper was cooked, baked and stuffed cuttlefish, with a serving of black squid ink rice, brazed fresh vegetables and a loaf of unsalted crusty Italian bread to sop up the juieces, a glass of Chablis which paired perfectly with the evenings squid…….at least thats what I kept telling myself as I shoveled down another meal of cous-cous steamed in red hot Rotel and drank my new favorite, Cucumber Gatorade. I topped a fine meal of with Earl Grey Tea and 2 of my niece Kendra’s cookies. That girl has a future with Dorpers, fresh olive oil, her silverwork and her cookies could replace Mrs. FIELDS. She is in line to be the youngest women in New Mexico to have her own Corporate Hang Glider.

The next day would see a change in the roads and the traffic both. It was a Saturday, so very many cars out of the Phoenix basin, out for a weekend drive. The road narrows alot as you get closer to Payson and as I would find out later that day, it gets far worse after Payson all the way to the junction of 260 over to Camp Verde. But, allow me mot to get ahead of myself. As the roads narrow, the shoulder drops away completely, diminishing to just loose black sand/gravel. I have found that URBANE DRIVERS, like to watch the wilderness thru tinted windows while sitting in thier 68 degree climate controlled driving chambers and a new PINE SCENTED atomizer mounted on the dash of the new SUV. Each pudgy kid sipping from a personal 64oz drink, wearing the latest Rebok atheletic wear, but as of yet unsweated in……a maybe never will be. They just love to clean the cars mirrors on passing cyclists, as they debate if the bird seen overhead thru the moonroof is an eagle or a duck……then turn infront of you inorder to take in a sceneic overlook, or tiny alpine lake. Some of you may chastise me for calling these towner kids “pudgy”, yup, its a broadbrush statement, the likes of which my son Pine informs me that I make to many of. But, I had occassion to stop in the instance above and watch the family that I dubbed the “Howitzer Family” exit thier SUV. any one of them, with just a little grease applied, would have fit perfectly into a cannon barrel. Stopped at many overlooks over the next few days, and it very often looked the same to me. Guess I am on a rant because somwhere along on this USA trip, I read that less than 8% of our high schoolers get the daily recommended amount of physical activity……and someone has the audacity to call us an “obese nation”.

The driving and roads would over the course of the day prove to be just about too much too handle. Jeremiah and Shirley, were relegated to walking up almost every hill, not because of steepness nor difficulty…….its simply a matter of self-preservation that set in. I know many bikers will tell you, simply get out there and occupy your lane. Force the offending motorists to slow down and contend with you as another vehichle…….all fine and dandy till its you that is prying the Lexus SUV hood ornament out of yer…….butt.

Passing thru Payson, taking on more water,some gatorade and an Ice Cream Sandwich for a little exfra fuel boost. Jeremiah kept heading for the top of the Mogollon Rim and the junction of 260 headed west to Camp Verde. The road after Payson is just not a cyclists road, and shouldn’t be marked as such. Way to tight and narrow, zero shoulder, very soft gravel acts as what little shoulder there is, and its virtually up from Payson thru Pine and then Strawberry and up yet more and steeper to the 260 Junction. All totalled, I walked about 12 miles of this stretch of road……and lived to tell about it.

Made camp at the junction basically, maybe a few miles short. Camp was great, read Tom Clancy for a couple hours had tea and a few cookies, sacked out with a starry night sky captured in heavens vault. Dreamt of my wife, my kids, my big red dog that likes to fart and howl sometimes at the same time, the fat cat that adorns my office chair, the guys in the shop, lifting wieghts at noon with Luis, and all those fruit trees that have been planted over the years. It seems the longer I am traveling the more local and less worldly my thoughts become…….it was the exact opposite of this when I left on this journey.

Up early, riding before 7am and enjoying the prefectly crisp aire and the beautiful smells that come with spring no matter where you are. Heading due west, and about 3000 feet lower to Camp Verde on the Verde River in central Arizona. Alligator Junipers are loaded with pollen, spotting the landscape with thier deep ochre coloration, contrasting with the deep greens of their cousins, the western Junipers. The ground between trees, a rich tapestry of muted earthtones, with bunch grasses mostly of the perrenial type, a mottling of soft yellows intersperced with the reds of the sands from which it grows. A veritable color carpet laying under the globe like trees that fill the landscape as far as can be seen. Shirley Surly, she bucks and farts as she hits a serious 9 mile descent at 6%, while its not a European descent, it is nevertheless a downhill, and there is a new spring in her step…….is that a throb or maybe a pulse that I feel up thru the hind wheel.

Camp Verde comes very easily as it is almost a downhill roll the whole way. But attaining Prescott by days end will prove to be a much harder task, but I was determined to make it happen. I chose to break the law, and ride right over the grade on I-17 south to Hwy169 which is my exit on secondary roads to the hillside town of Prescott. The big I-17 grade took nearly 2 hours of time and chugging to get up and over. No State Troopers seemed to notice me, so, I got thru without a problem. The pulsing sensation within the back wheel was becoming more pronounced, knowing there would be a bike shop in Prescott I was determined to get it looked at since the roads and towns that follow this are far narrower and towns much smaller. Finally rolled into town on one last climb, spotted a motel with easy access and got a room and shower for the night.

The following morning, would see me at the local bike shop getting some much needed repair work done. My Phil Wood rear hub had lost the bearings on one side, hence the pulsation coming up thru the rear wheel. A few other minor adjustments, and we were rolling west on Iron Springs grade out of Prescott, and headed plunging downhill into Skull Valley. A beautiful ride of maybe 30 miles, not much left in this tiny hay farming valley. Just a tiny wood floored cafe, and the well weathered patrons who live locally. I, on the other hand stood out like an escaped zoo animal……I am sure they are still talking about the idiot on the bike. 2 glasses of sweet tea and we hit the road again, headed towards Kirkland where my wife tells me there is a lot in the way of gas stations and stores…….boy howdy was she wrong. There ain’t crap in Kirkland, but for a tiny elementary school. So Jeremiah rolls into the school and begs a bottle of water off one bus driver, fills every vessel he owns and rolls on north on SR10. About 90 miles, maybe a little more till the next civilization. As a bonus, I will roll thru Bagdad on my route west. Folks, this is one beautiful drive, its a bit ruff, rather winding in many places, but a drive to be made in the spring when the flowers are out in bloom. Beautiful for sure.

Jeremiah rolled along with one eye on the ditch, hoping to spot a good stiff plastic bottle to load on additional water thru this section. As luck and the Lord would have it, I came across a nice clean 2ltr soda bottle with good cap and no damage. Along the way, I passed a ranch house rightalong the side of the road…….walked into the yard tenatively, watching for old snaggle toothed Festus, the ranch guard dog to emerge from his shaded concealment. No dog, a real surprise…..knock…….knock……still no dog…….one more knocking round. A garden hose hung limp on a fence post as I walked back toward the road……and right tbere is the faucet……..so, I turned it on letting the warm sitting water pass thru and refilled all bottles that I had with me. Caml that nite was simply alongside the road, just a flat sandy spot large enough for a tent was all, stoppjng celt very good as there hadbeen many climbs thru the day.

Rolled up camp, which was maybe 4 or 5 miles from the Bagdad turn off, and headed out with a belly full of oatmeal and legs refreshed from a good nights rest. My route would take me duewest by the compass, till I intersect State Highway 89 which will then take me due north thru the only small town respet wnich is Wikieup before I pedal on into Kingman. Not much excitement thru this long boring deserty section, many hills to climb making my way north, the road is good for the most part with ample shoulder in all but a few short sections. Just before Wikieup, I ran a 2″ or so sheet metal screw thru both sides of the hind tyre…..never done that before. Left out of Wikieup, determined to get S close to Kingman today as I could. Somewhere along in thjs section of road, my phone rang and it was my dauvhter Nevada. We hadnt talked for quite awhile, so the 4t minutes we did was good therapy for ol’pops.

Camped at a ranch access pull off. The painting of the evening sky done each evening for us by the Lord, was hidden from view by heavy low hanging cloud….evening came wrapped in a grey cloak. Got up early to the sound of an lverly active Meadowlark sitting and singing right outside my tent. First, I thought where is my shotgun……then I thought, maybe God wants me up and riding……heah tbat must be it. Doing just that, I was riding by 7.15 or so and hit the junction of I-40 and pointed Shirley Surley due west for the 20 miles into Kingman. Arrived in good time, bought a few groceries, had a quick burger and found the Old Route 66 turn and was headed for Oatman as my destination that day.

The road out is pretty much a 2% grade out of town for maybe 12 miles or so, dry washes, flowerjng shrubs and greasewood are all tnat keep you company. At about the 12 mile mark, you will round a bend and slip in between 2 rows of low lying hills…….and then beautiful does begin…..along with the climbjng as well. You will be making your way over Sitgreaves Pass of 3500 foot elevation…..on a very old piece of knarled and twisted bitumen dating from the neolithic period. First stop is at the rock walled edifice at the base of the climb, that being, Cold Springs……a travelers oasis of soft drinks, gatorade and ice cream bars and I had one of each. Up, up, up we pedal, one slow revolving pedal stroke at a time. The sandy valley floor gkves way to rising decomposed lava formed rusty red spires. Jagged rock formations, like something taken from a Grimms Fairytale. Jutting into the sky as if set too hook passing clouds on thier way east with the prevailing winds. The ragged lava spires are soon mixed in with round knobby wall like fortifications of soft wind formed sandstone. The contrast in colors is amazing. Still further up, the sides of the surrounding mountains turn into huge brilliant carmine boulders, ot stacked and orderly, but thrown into place by Nephalum or maybe trolls back in the day. From the steep upper roads near the peak, a stop looking backwards gives one the visual mix of not just distance, but the entire color spectrum that the human eye can can concieve and enjoy. Truely, one of the prettiest roads I have ridden thus far.

The Lord is merciful, and fulfils our dreams beyond where our mind can imagine. Someplace along in Bosnia or was it Montenegro, my wife and I ran into a group of fellas logging with Oxen…….wish number 1 came too pass. Then, as I made the very last bend and slipped tnru Sitgreaves Pass…..mlvement off to my right caught my eye……Holy Crap and Poochy Maggie……..look out my mind said to me…….right there at about 15 feet over head, came a dozen Desert Big Horn rams…….running down the side of the mountain to my right, plungkng in full flight off that 15 foot bank……landing in the mkddle of the road not more than 20 feet infront of me…….they were seemingly oblivious to my presence……..they each inturn landed, and with the next stride they blunded on zpringlike legs clear lff the road to my left and into the surrounding rock and cactus…….they were all but invisible witthin seconds ofhitting the local vegetation. Jeremiah simply stood, partly dumbfounded by what had just happened……but waiting in epectation as well…….I just knew my tool making friend Barry King would/should be hot on thier heels and the reason for thier flight…….Wish number 2 came too pass, to see our hardest to find desert bighorns in thier home turf. It was indeed a special treat to see.

Topping out and sliding over to the eastern side of the pass, gave me cause to take refuge out on a rocky promontory……maybe eat a little something and look out over tbe exlansive valley below and cojnt my continual blessings. “Hey, what ya doin there ehh?”, came a voice from some unseen person to my right. Just sitting here eating and tKing in the beauty of it all……so, where are you from in Canada I ask. The EHH suffix gave him away. Ends up, 2 retirees from “dead rear” as it is locally known….or Red Deer on the map. Farmers, grain growers. Wingerjng in the Quartzite area Nd just relaxing along the Colorado river when they felt like getting up and moving. The lifestyle would’nt suit me, but it seemed to fit there rather plush vase type build to tee. Ate my 2 pieces of fruit, rolled on down below the crest a few miles, took many more pics, and set up my little tent where the wind could not get to me. What a drop dead gorgeous spot I had, with surrounding red rock turning crimson with the advent of evening. Bouffant volumnous clouds turned pink and orange overhead as brilliant green foliage was washed in the spectral light of evening, once again the Lord would place his hand upon another blessed day and make it visibly so for all too see. There I sat, with a front row seat, believeing ti too be just for me……do you think it could be?

Allen, a confirmed “roadie”, was my visitor along the streets of Needles. He, having been on the road now for an excess of 3 years. Had crashed out his bike, sold it off for parts along with everything he owned and bought an Amtrac ticket back to Wisconsin and home. He would take a month off, rebuild another bike and set off by June 1 to ride all the way around the Great Lakes. It amazed me how mush we ended up looking alike…….it seems to me profiling long distance bicycle travelers would be very easy. Bedang careful out there mKing your way west to Barstow he warned, as tbere aint anythjng tbat ocfers salvation for tbe weary traveller along Old 66…..just so you know!

144 miles of bright sunny skies, by middah everythkng took on a silvery sheen made manifest by dry air and microscopic dust particles floating in the California desert air. Distance was lost to haze by 1pm. Thirst began to feel like the norm, and shade was nowhere to be seen nor found…..it was time to just shutup and pedal……after all, Shirley and I had only 143 miles left to go. My ATT quit me less than 5 miles out of Needles, and never returned till I was within about 20 miles of Barstow. 2.25 days too Barstow, arrived this am about 9 and got a motel room so I had a full day of blasting AC and work on the blog and images. Just one day that I am thankful too have an obligation too work on the blog today. It would look like one blog post left from Barstow to home which is about 258 miles by my mapping, and will follow that with gear review after I make it into my front yard sans a radiator attached to my backside. Have a great day, and God bless you all for following, commenting (too which I will try and return replies later today) and generally encouraging me as I ride.

Blog54-Pietown and enchanted skies

Caught in the frozen sunlight of an early morning in New Mexico.

You are joining the Jeremiah Watt travel blog as he cycles round the surface of Gods creation on his Round the World (RTW) bicycle tour. I cannot take credit for this being a solo tour, my son Pine Watt joined me for the first 4 most arduous months. Then our Russian friend Vladimir Kolchetkov and his wife Gaia encouraged us abundantly, as did many fans, family and friends thru prayer. My older brother joined me now on 2 separate occassions, first for a stretch thru Italy and France, then for a second stretch from House NM which lies along the Texas stateline out thru the enchanted state of New Mexico. Jeremiah, on his RTW steed Shirley Surly, and my brother took to the icy air and roads of eastern New Mexico leaving thru a window between winter storms. Pietown was calling me after 37 or more years, and surely we could find that enchanted cloud cover that New Mexico is known for if only we rode west.

The remains of yet another RTW cyclist along an obscure New Mexico road.

Left to right, Nita of Toaster House, Oscar and Jeremiah in Pie Town.

A passionate Christian fellow who really understood the meaning of Christs Blessings.

Armed with a huge bag of oatmeal cookies made by Niels daughter, Kendra. We pointed our loaded Surly Long Haul Trucker touring cycles to the west off what is locally known as the cap, and headed for Santa Rosa for the day. Atop the cap, the skies were lead grey, and heavy with pending snow and ice. But dropping approx. 700 feet off the rocky rim of the canyon lead us into a warm micro-climate where winter layers of clothing were soon being shed. Down thru rim rock country with its red sand and waving yellow grass we passed over the miles and ridges that harbor the tiny town of Santa Rosa which lies on I-40 to the east of Tucumcari NM. Arriving somewhat pooped because the last 20 miles or so had a stiff headwind challenging our every pedal stroke. The scarlet and crimson skies of sunset had left us before the twinkling lights of town greeted us, leaving little opportunity to find a good place to set up our tents. Yes, we opted for a room and a restaurant meal this night.

The following morning would see Niel up early, followed by Jeremiah in a far less eager fashion savoring the warm bed instead of the Brroks saddle which awaited him. But leave we did, in good time and headed south now towards Vaughn NM. the road climbs slightly out of town across a Rio Negra river and hits a series of high grass strewn plateaus. Each of which have to be climbed to be enjoyed, then plunge down again to conquer the next which waits in turn. The wind was howling out of the west, hitting us more or less on a diagonal at about 2o,clock position. Once again in typical plains fashion, Gaia or mother nature, would be there trying with all her might to defeat us from attaining Vaughn by days end. With all that said, we pretty much rode that piece of road like a time-trial course, arriving at almost noon in Vaughn. The aire was thick with ice crystals, my mustache hung with icy stalagtites, a testimony to pending winter conditions. The visibility was down to a mere 100-150 yards and we worried more about being hit riding than freezing to death. We found an open gas station at Vaughn, and for 2 hours I stood outside with a handmade sign reading “FREE GAS”……..teeth chattering, knees knocking, I waited patiently for someone to offer a ride so we could get ahead of the storm…..and I buy them gas for a ride. After all that time we had no ride, and 2 people offered me money to buy gas. Once again, we opted to get a room as the weather predictions were for worsening weather thru the night.

Left Vaughn a little late, we allowed the ice to melt off the road and the sky to turn blue. It was like a skating rink till about 8.30 that morning. We headed west again on Hwy60, with a slight breeze in our face and very cool air. At times it hurt around the sinuses and cheek bones, but a warming New Mexico sun soon prevailed and by Encino those layers were getting peeled off. The sky was studded with puffy cloud, azure color as a surround. The countryside turned into rolling grass covered hills, golden in the afternoon sun. Windmills and cattle have been added as ornamentation. We had found it! Thee ubiquitous land of enchantment so often mentioned in novels, captured on canvas, in the iambic pentameter of poetry. We rolled out from under cold grey skies and into a postcard scene welcoming our enjoyment and exploration. Spent the night camped alongside a fence line, enjoyed a crystal clear sky inwhich God had hung a brilliant full moon that bathed the sleeping hills in a silvery nightcoat.

The following mornings dialogue was one of comparing aches, pains and constant laments about that danged wind getting to us, blowing my mustache back over my eyes making it hard to see. Brother Niel, spent his time playing “eye spy something red” and would compare that new found brilliant red to his now very sore posterior. In general, we were caught in a “bitching fest”!! God, he sure has a away of drawing light to those moments when we are riding thankless instead of spirit filled and spirit lead………what the heck is that moving junk pile out on the horizon brother? Not sure, guess we will figure it out when we get closer…………..looks wierd though. Sure enough as we drew closer to the roaming junkpile, a car pulled alongside it and SOMETHING was passed thru the car window. WE TWO BITCHERS, were about too get soundly spanked for our total lack of faith in whom we Pray too. The car it turns out, just passed a bag of food over to a MAN who pedaled the roaming junk pile. Yes, a Christian fellow, not pushing his belief, simply extolling the blessings he has expirienced thru riding by faith. How each day, cold, wet, miserable, overly hot or overly difficult, had in its own way a blessing to be observed and thankfull for, something we two had clearly lost sight of. He explained his Christian stand with simple language, not the academic elequence of one trained in the semenary…….rather it was the vernacular used by a simple man who simply believed by faith and a witness too how God pours out his blessings to those who seek him daily. We knew then that we had been shown face to face, the faithfull versus those whose faith required seeing mountains move to be satisfied with its being. Our messenger lifted his arms to heaven, spoke these words in earnest ” I am yours Father, I surrender unto you”, lowered his arms and rode on his way too the east. We rode west, not mindfull of traffic nor wind, nor even the sprawling countryside, each of us was reflecting on our own walk with Christ and our failings in having that strength of FAITH. Forgive us Father, we will try harder tomorrow.

Mountaiair, was our stop for an early lunch. Conversation began immediatly, we found a seat next to the long established Mountainair senate meeting. They being a local historian, a truck driver, a retired gardner and a mechanic who ten years ago dropped his wrenches for a lounge chair and the front porch. Thomas, the most vocal of the gathered congress, moved over to better hear the conversation as Niel and I ate our breakfast. About that time, a well dressed cowboy with starched jeans and a leather jacket steps into the cafe……turning to face me where I sat……it was like an old west movie, as he walked the hardwood floor I was moving slowly towards my sawed off shotgun under the table as Niel moved deftly for the colt strapped to his hip……time ticked like a slow moving train……the stranger squared up facing our table and opened his coat at the waist reveling a silver trophy buckle……”Is your name Jeremiah Watt” he asked. In a throat chocked with fear, I answered in a high squeeky voice…… “yes”……..and waited for the proverbial “crap to hit the rotary oscillator”. Instead, a broad smile spread across his face and he stuck his hand out to say hello, and told us the folks at Cool Horse over in Canyon had told him that we would be coming thru that way. Scott, joined our table and added to the conversation over our last cup of coffee before we would head on west. Abo pass was waiti g for us and we departed, leaving new freinds behind and a really nice little town…..Mountainair.

Climb, pedal, climb, and breath……that occupied our mind for the next 15 or so miles as we made our way past the Abo Ruins, and on towards the pass taking its name from those same ancient ruins. Topping out at nearly 7000 feet, we could see the valley below us spread like a table cloth at a banquet. For miles across the Rio Grande river valley to the sno capped mountains that shore up its western flank. We allowed our bikes to gather and gain whatever speed they wanted since it was a clean and simple downhill run for several miles. Exiting the protection of the hills and trees allowed us to now feel the strength of the wind blowing thru the river valley, it was substancial at times and at others soft and muted. The sun bore down and began the slow frying process that is a a part of New Mexico sunshine. By the time we reached our turn to the south towards Socorro, we were pooped and wondering where we would camp…….no trees to speak of…….limited river access due to fences………we would be forced to ride interstate down to Socorro, yuk. We talked for a while in the shade of the overpass, and discussed just how much further we wanted to ride and what we would tolerate for a camp site. Okay, planning is done, lets get pedaling and see what we find. Up we go, around the curve of the onramp to the Interstate, maybe 500 yards from our planning stop……..and there is a blue campground sign……..GOD provided! Dont be fooled folks, since the very first day of this trip, I have not stayed in a camp ground because there was simply not one around at the end of the day…….GOD, just slapped one down RIGHT at the place we would need one. We pulled in, pitched our tents, washed clothes and had a simple meal and conversatkon till it was time to turn in for the night.

Jim-Bob had been having a flat tire battle for the last 2 weeks. Always on a hind, and always in the same place! Try as I may, searching thru my tire and liner each time, I could not find the cause……frustrating as all get out. We began this morning ride to Socorro in sort of a dual fashion. Since we both actually had a flat. After that, we sprinted to Socorro, Jeremiah arrived with a flat as well as left with a flat. We had 2 goals in mind for our stop in Socorro, fix the flat and find the cause, and Shirley Surly had developed a serious clunk in the crNk arms as they revolved around, meaning that it needed tightening with special tools or replacing. An Electric Horse, and its happy go lucky 68 year old owner, made every effort to solve both. The constant flats we found were caused by 2 small staples poking thru on the inside wall of my much loved Schwalbe tires. The sloppy crank however was not to be fixed so easily. At least. not in Socorro.

We left the central New Mexico town of Socorro about 2 hours after we arrived, headed up hill to the west on State Highway 60. As soon as you cross the Rio Grande River whichsplits the state down the middle, you are headed up hill all the way to the Continental Divide over near the states western edge. We had our work cut out for us, and knew full well it would be a leg burner for the rest of the day. We campedthatnight behind an old stone wall in an abandoned gas station that sat at the foot of an imposing mountain. Protected from the wind, we enjoyed a colorful display of Gods work on the western sunset, conversation revolved around family, dreams and aspirations and how sore Uncle Niels butt was. He knew at this point that he was in trouble.

Early the nextmorning, the guy with the sorest butt rolled out and kicked started the day. With gloved hands and covered heads, we began our approach to Magdalena NM. Once the largest cattle shipping yard along the southern rail line, and now a dusty,quiet little retirement town. We arrived in Magdalena with huge spread between just 2 riders. Jeremiah found the local hangout cafe, and waited for older brother to heard his bike and sore posterior into the town square some 35 minutes later……but make it he did. Breakfast was vreat at the M&M Cafe which sits at the southeast corner of the old Magdalena Inn. We sat with a local writer Steve Modio and his wife, who had also been over to Mongolia twice while working on a book about Khazack eaglers. A chello player Joel Becktell, who lived local but played with orchestras all over the world. While the meal was superb, it was the conversation with the group that will always make it memorable. Reluctantly we had to roll out and make our way to Datil, our next town along a sparcely populated ribbon of ashphalt. Only 29 miles separates us from this task, and it would prove the undoing of my worthy partner. Just one too many hills, and just 5 miles an hour too much wind it seemed. It would take us 6 hours to cover that distance…….every drop of gatorade was poured down to ease the posterior pain…….every cookie was eaten in an effort to forget that which lies ahead……more road, morehills and yes more pain as your reward. Datil, would be the final resting place for my traveling companion, my brother had had enough, he would be going home from here.

We spent that night with noted New Mexico race horse breeder and trainer, former world ranked bull rider, a short guy with a giant size appetite for life at 76, Mr. Dick Wellborn. The following morning, jeremiah and his bicycle Shirley Surly would depart further west with tear rimmed eyes, while brother Niel would take one of Dicks pickups and head for Socorro and rendevous with his daugbter Kendra. Jim-Bob pedalled west into taller pine trees and rolling mesa type cou try. Next stop is Pie Town. This post mentions Pie Town in its title and for thjs reason. Some 36 years ago, 6 young fellas were attending saddle mKing school in Amarillo Texas, Jeremiah Watt, Bill Watt, Darby Adams, Troy West, Danny West and lastly Don Bartrum of Apache Creek NM. It was Don who first planted those seeds of curiosity with regard to Pie Town and thier famous PIES. Now, all these years later, the onlything that kept me pedaling towards that spot on the map was those famous PIES. All the way around the world, I have been craving a simple piece of pie and with no luck, I would solve that here. First however, I had to conquer the Continental Divide, then on into my destination for lunch. An outdoor museum of antique windmills had me pulled over to take some pictures…….all of this lies at the east side of a very tiny town…….as I am shooting a lady drives up and introduces herselfas the official Pie Town greeter…….my name is Nita, and I run the Toaster House (famous to hikers around the world, quite literally, donations are accepted to support it) the house is open to all who hike road or trails in the area. “Are you here for pie today” she asks? Yes, indeed I am…….well, follow me then and she zips off over the horizon to a small cafe. Nita, and I, as well as a Mexican National name Oscar, sat and had dinner. Excellent hanburgeres cooked up by Harley riding chef Tim. We then had 3 pieces of shared pie, blackberry, blueberry, and NewMexico Apple which has green chilies in it. All were excellent, I assure you.

Jeremiah left Pie Town, satisfied that after all these many years, Pie Town was indeed just as Don Bartrum had described……..”jist a tiny place that makes darn good pies in a place you would not expect”. Quimado, my next stop, some 30 miles distant. The spanish name means “burnt”, and the names origins are derived from a tiny settlement that the Indians burned to the ground back in the late 1880,s. Rebuilt, some 3 miles further west, and as lone local told me, its closer to a fire hydrant now as well. Jeremiah and his Surly would arrive in Quimado at about 4.15 to the ringing of his phone, somewhat of a shocker. I had no signal since back in Mountainair. Answered the phone, caught snippets of conversation, and just hung up since none of it made sense. Had supper at Largo Cafe, looked around town and bedded down. I knew I was in a little trouble with my bike, the cranks were much sloppier and chain jump was becoming an issue.

The following morning, a beautiful blue sky would greet me, coffee at the Largo along with eggs and bacon. Then hit the cranks for Springerville Arizona, about 47 miles away. Big rolling hills, covered in grass and sandy soil, sparce pinion pine tree cover is sprinkled here and there. The hills are bigger thru this section, mesas are taller, the sun is warmer. I ride into Springerville about 1.15 or so, find my local bike repair man Jay at The Sweat Shop, and have him do the much needed repairs to my steed Shirley Surly.

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Jeremiah Watt Cycling around God's Creation

long distance bicycle touring

Posts by Jeremiah Watt-saddlemaker

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