Inceptive Notions

Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona

Funnily enough the above photograph is the last one I ever took with my Canon 5D Mark II. About 5 minutes later we were in a monsoon of rain, it was 55 degrees in the mountains, and I almost got hypothermia. My camera was in a ziploc in my backpack but the storm was so insane that some moisture got inside the bag and ruminated with my camera for the hour it took us to get through the storm. After I arrived I tried turning on the camera and realized it had been damaged. It’s currently in the repair shop. In the mean time I purchased and have been using a Canon Powershot S90. All of the images below are from that camera.

Michael George :: Aug.23.2010 :: Uncategorized :: 2 Comments »

Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, & Oklahoma

7.12.10 – The cicadas are buzzing and the house across the street echoes the noise of teenage disobedience. I’m sitting beneath a light in the middle of a one street town called Sumner. I’d like to climb to the top of the water tower and yell. I’d probably wake up the entire population. Down the road our group rests in humidity and exhaustion on a small patch of grass watching a movie projected onto the side of a building. Soon the couples and non-couples will stumble back– the former together, happy, lost in the happiness that emanates from a little touch or that cute smile you give one another when you finally discover that your feelings are mutual. Tomorrow we travel again. More pain, more smells, more aggravation, more ecstasy, more ice cream, more exhilaration, more moods turned than I could ever keep track of. These people are incredible, but temporary… “fleeting.” Which makes it perfect. I do believe much of my life’s constant search for fulfillment (creating eternal work) was really just a distraction. Often filled by best friends made under false hopes.

A car goes by after every five sentences or so. The headlights are cutting the fog like a slice of butter. When they reach the church they slide over me. Slow at first but quick just before passing.

Normally there’s no stopping in my life. One thing to the next. This is what I’m doing, this is what I want to do, this is what I will be doing. This trip is the first chance I’ve had to analyze what actually makes me happy. What actually makes me smile. Close friends. Those moments of mutual trust. I worry that all my plans are just distractions. I rarely take care of myself.

A few days ago I met Annee. She was 62, hard of hearing, and a bit off. I kept trying to figure her out. She was so adamant about telling me her stories. I had only just met her but I was everything in her world. She picked me up like a trophy– took me around town and introduced me to her friends. Awkward touches and comments abound. Despite her age I was constantly reminded that inside every old person is a young soul anxious to prove that the outside isn’t as dysfunctional as it seems.

7.21.10 – This morning at breakfast we gathered as a family to digest some sobering news. Paige Hicks, a rider on the Providence to Seattle route, was killed by a car yesterday afternoon. The delivery of tragic news is not something anyone is trained for. Nor is the receiving of said news. I’d like to say I was able to handle it smoothly. Or that I understand that what we are doing is “inherently dangerous,” as one of my friend’s put it. But I still don’t handle death well. Less than an hour after breakfast we were expected to hop on our bikes and proceed 80 miles to our next destination. The only moment I had to myself lasted about a minute as I went to fetch my bike from a back room. I took a deep breath, swallowed my throat, and blinked away any moisture. Besides, sunglasses hide emotion pretty well. We (and I mean the greater “Bike & Build” we) lost an incredible life that could have been any one of us. What hits me hardest is that our fate is placed in the hands of other drivers. All we can do is strap on our helmets, hug the shoulder, and pray for a smooth ride each and every day. While on the bike I can’t stop thinking about it.

7.22.10 – I’m a very in the moment person. When shifting through different phases of life I always have a hard time relating back to another. It’s like communicating between dimensions (e.g. seeing a “college friend” in your hometown). When the two lives cross it’s either unnerving or refreshing. A reminder that all these chapters are, somehow, part of the same life. Yet another reason why I’m addicted to both taking and reviewing my photographs. I attempt to connect to the past through carefully edited groupings of moments.

I’ve been trying to keep in touch with my closest friends outside of this adventure but I’ve had a hard time explaining what it feels like to exercise more than you sleep. Here’s what I got:

I mean it’s a whirlwind for sure. I’d like to come back at my own pace sometime. But I’ve learned this trip isn’t really about certain things and it is very much about other things… It’s hard not to be vague. I mean we see a lot more than if I were driving and we actually live for twelve hours in small towns but it all happens so fast it’s hard to process. If I were doing it on my own I would need to take a day off to write and think but at this pace we can’t do that. So I’m just living in the flow and loving it and hoping at some point I can reflect and not forget everything. It’s made me less detached than I used to be. More confident in people. The city puts me into a cynical mood that I don’t get when I’m out here. I’m a little scared to go back. It could be the work and not the city though. I think I’ve actually learned that I take too much time off to think and process and need to live more. Maybe. Thinking always seems to get me nowhere. Or makes me upset about silly things. My brain just searches for something to worry about.

I’ve been calling my Mom when I can but we all know how that goes. This trip is an incredible barricade.

7.24.10 – When I first began riding my bike in New York City it helped my adjustment phase significantly. I was no longer a gopher popping my head up via subway and trying to understand pockets of life that all seemed incredibly different from one another. Traveling slowly between different areas reveals a gradual transition. It’s like looking in the mirror every day instead of sifting through yearly school portraits. You almost don’t even notice the differences. Everything becomes more coherent. I first noticed the way cities seem to bloom out of the landscape while driving into New York from New Jersey. The cornfields slowly give way to wider roads and those veins inject life into the factories and industry that surround the outskirts of suburbia. Slowly that black blood pours into canyons of cement that erupt upward into stalagmite skyscrapers floating in the distance. Our trip has followed a similar metaphor. Our hearts lighten as we see the first sign of life on the horizon. Sometimes it’s an epic landmark that seems out of place or ironically perfect, sometimes it’s simply a gas station and a lot of angry drivers.
In my head I know how America shifts and changes as we head west. I’ve developed a mental image based on everything from clipart maps of the USA on diner placemats to the stereotypes presented in Disney movies. Now I’m actually seeing it. The northeast until Ohio all felt the same. Once we crossed under the “Gateway to the West” in St. Louis everything changed. We’re currently on Route 66. We’re pioneers discovering ourselves more than any spot of land.

As a tribute to Paige, the B&B community was asked to make chalk tributes (our main way of communicating while on the road) and take photographs that would be printed for her memorial service. Below you can see our image.

7.25.10 – One thing I think this blog doesn’t cover is the broader sense of what it’s like to be on this trip. Each day I’m filled with an incredible feeling as we roll out into the rising sun. I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun in my life and I’m in love with our group of riders. When you wake up at 5am days are like weeks. It’s impossible to recount all of our adventures so I’ll describe today. This morning was the beginning of our “Christmas in July” celebration — We all decorated our bikes with Christmas decorations, sang carols, and were assigned a Secret Santa. Throughout the day we stopped at an Auto Museum, Pop’s for breakfast/lunch (a landmark restaurant with 400 types of soda on Route 66), raided Walgreens for water guns, attached a group of napping riders with water balloons after asking a random lady if we could come inside her office to use a faucet, grabbed slushies at Sonic, went shopping at GoodWill for Hoe-Down and Prom outfits, had a laundry adventure, ate dinner with the church, exchanged Secret Santa gifts, shaved 4 girls heads, and now I’m writing this.

The people we meet are so generous. And I usually pass out by 9 or 10pm.

7.26.10 – I can’t help but struggle with religion out here. It makes me angry and then happy and then utterly baffled all at the same time. I haven’t been in a church-oriented community since 8th grade when I ran from it. And now I’m sleeping in them every night. To be honest I’ve never written about my beliefs (especially not in a public forum). Essentially I think we should believe in people and their capacity to love without the assistance of some imaginary figure. By imaginary figure I’m not proclaiming atheism, I’m only noting that we know no facts about ‘God’ and thus I don’t feel comfortable giving him/her/it a name or classification. Or, at the very least, I wish that classification were up to discussion and not given rigid boundaries. I wish I had time to dive further into this conversation but wake up is at 5am. Seems to be a common theme on our trip. We have all the time in the world but really no time at all.

On our social calendar we have a Hoe Down (Sadie Hawkins) & Prom — Riders are asking each other to the dances in extremely creative ways. I don’t think I ever saw epic invitations like this in high school. We’ve had banners draped over street signs, announcements over the Wal Mart intercom, messages spelled out through photos, an invitation spelled out in ketchup on a hot dog, a string maze at breakfast, a reenactment of a scene from Love Actually, a Bromance slide inserted into one of our Powerpoint presentations, and countless others.

One of my favorite things to do is take note of the hilarious sightings we make while on the bike:

Local Businesses:

• “Once Upon A Tile” – Best name I’ve seen thus far
• Zesta’s Autos & Meat (They sell cars and meat. What?)

Street Signs:
• Back Rd
• Manly Terrace
• Road to Paradise Lane

If you take away anything from this post I hope it’s the sheer overwhelming task it has become to ever describe to others what it’s like to experience Bike & Build. I’ve been inspired daily, amazed by those I’m riding with, overstuffed and defeated by the lack of sleep. Tomorrow will be another adventure and I can’t even hide my excitement anymore. This is like living in a dream. The only thing I have to worry about every day is how I’m going to overly entertain myself while pedaling to a new and wonderful little town. I never want it to end.

Michael George :: Jul.26.2010 :: My Photography :: 3 Comments »

Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, & Indiana

Will post writing later. No time now. Currently in Bloomington, Indiana. Off to Illinois tomorrow.

Michael George :: Jul.11.2010 :: My Photography :: No Comments »

Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, & Pennsylvania

Since my last update we’ve really made some ground. We pedaled through Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, and finally pushed up to Mt. Pocono, Pensylvania earlier today.

The one thing I wasn’t expecting going into this trip was the pain. Whether it’s backaches, knee pain, hand numbness, chafing, or simply extreme exhaustion and soreness, there’s always something. Despite that, we’ve had an incredible first week on the road. The rewards always come in the form of ropes courses, bowling, free food, ice cream, movies, or simply a shower.

Each day is a new adventure. Last week I was on laundry crew which meant lugging nearly 200 lbs. of laundry (wrapped in a tarp, imagine the smell) into a local laundromat and taking over the place.

We also took a trip to Adam’s (one of the riders) grandma’s house to swim in a lake. Unbeknownst to us the 9-mile trip took an hour and a half because the house was on a mountain. Womp womp. Although, we did pass some chickens in the road on the way and the ride back was all down hill. So it was worth it.

Hills suck. Hills suck. Hills suck. But every once in a while you glimpse things to your side that are enough to encourage you to keep on going. Yesterday (or this morning)… time is lost… I saw a tree that had fallen in a forest leaving an opening for light to pour down onto what was left of it.

Today, near the top of a hill was farmland on either side leaving a clear view of rolling hills and blue sky, a bit like heaven.

Going down the hills always makes it worth it. A few days ago I hit over 40mph at 9:30 in the morning.

Hunger never ever goes away. I eat more in a day than I eat in 2 – 3 days of normal life, which is saying a lot.

Yesterday we stopped at a U-Pick blueberry farm and picked a batch for lunch. The place was eerily empty and I went into the barn where there was a cow mooing away like a watchdog. There was also a baby calf in the corner lying in the mud.

Other than riding we’ve also had two build days. The first stop was in Andover, MA where we worked on an old convent that is in the process of being converted into a livable space with 10 condos. It was my first time ever doing demolition and throughout the day we ripped out all of the plaster, lattice, and cleaned the floors. To make things a little uneasy there were Asbestos warnings sharpied on the ground. Our second build day was in Poughkeepsie, NY where we worked on five different sites for Hudson River Housing. Some groups landscaped or did demolition but I was with a crew that painted a garage. In the afternoon a handful of us went to a local community picnic and taught kids bike safety.

There’s also something to say about all of the characters we meet at each stop. Whether they’re the ambassadors of the church, local shop owners, or hilarious kids.

The places we’ve stayed have been incredibly generous. My favorite thus far was Oakwood Friends School, a boarding school in Poughkeepsie. At that location we each had our own BED! Not a floor, not a pew, not a classroom, but a real bed with a real mattress.

…I could keep telling little stories but really all there is to say is that the days are incredibly long, incredibly painful, incredibly fulfilling, and incredibly fun. Last night after arriving in Port Jervis we walked to a local creamery and then went to the Youth Rec. Center and played ping pong, Wii, and Jenga. They also had a bowling ally in the basement where your teammates had to sit at the end and set up the pins/roll the balls back to you.

Our entire life changes every day. New places to sleep, shower, eat, new things to see. I can only imagine what’s just around the corner.

Note: I meant to post this blog a few days ago but we’ve had no Internet. We just finished a 96 mile day and showered at the Penn State Rec. Center. I’m absolutely exhausted. We passed through Amish country (horse & buggy). Will write more later. So many photos to edit.

Michael George :: Jun.30.2010 :: My Photography :: 2 Comments »

Bike & Build – Orientation and Day 1

When I was in high school and I imagined myself traveling across the country I thought it would be me and a car, taking it slow, meeting strangers and taking their portraits. Documenting vignettes of small towns, hotels, and gas stations along the way. I imagined myself as a nomad with no place to be.

This is anything but slow and poetic.

It feels like summer camp, but on the move. And instead of fifth graders we’re all on the verge of (or have just become) “adults” — and are looking to ensure we make our mark before it’s too late. We’re a pack of twenty eight riders with four incredible leaders: Pops, Gramps, Baby G, and The Law. We sleep in churches, schools, eat (awesome) donated food, and are always spreading the word about our cause.

We’re already a spectacle. A “traveling circus” as our trailer will soon show. We sure do attract attention like a sideshow. People ask us: What are you doing? The simple response ‘Biking across the country’ always cues a “shock face.” These conversations happen at stoplights, break spots, and when asking for directions (if there’s one rule I’ve learned it’s to trust the locals).

These first few days have reminded me a bit of move-in day freshmen year. Everyone is a blank slate but as you slowly get to know their background you realize everyone has already or is currently doing something incredible for others.

It’s amazing how fast everything goes. Wake up. Pack. Eat. Pee. Fill up your watter bottle. Hit the road. It’s leisurely but at the same time you never stop going. My camera is my way of making sure I’m seeing everything. On the road normal life doesn’t exist. Shower when you can, forget about Facebook, email, even forget to take your cell phone with you. Just live. It’s like a professor of mine once said, summer is about “living in the flow.” The freedom of childhood. You approach strangers. No more fears. I actually can’t believe we’ll be dipping our wheels in the Pacific in just a few short months.

I’m currently sitting on the gym of a private school in Andover, MA

For the first time in my life I’m solely and wholly dedicated to a single thing.

Tomorrow we’re building for 7 hours and then painting the trailer. I was in charge of drawing the outline of the USA and subconsciously made Florida huge. Oops.

Wake up is at 6:30am so I should probably prepare for that by getting some much needed sleep.

After today we really start riding. Friday will be a 90+ mile ride. I can’t imagine I’ll have much time to blog over the course of the trip but I’ll try to post something (even if it’s small) once a week. If not, I’ll be journaling and taking photos and will edit it all down at the end.