Richard Treks: BALM: Week 4 Day 3

Often at day's end, especially days and weeks into a tour, I don't remember the specifics of where I've been or when I was somewhere. What was the name of the small town where today I sat at a picnic table in front of a grocery store and ate a wonderful piece of fried chicken? In what town is the steam locomotive Pere Marquette 1223? How many days ago did I take the shuttle over the Makinaw Straits? And places and days before that? It's good that I keep a record of the BALM at Track My Tour. I can always go there to see the waypoints, the camps, the coffee stops, the points of interest, the scenic views, and such.

What I remember mostly is the routine. I wake up. I fire up the JetBoil to make a cup of Starbucks Via instant coffee. I put on my biking clothes, sort panniers and handlebar bag, wipe the dew from the fly of the tent and take it off and stuff it in a compression bag. I deflate my sleeping pad and stuff my sleeping bag in a compression sack. I take the tent down, drying it too, and place the rolled up tent and its poles and stakes in the tent compartment of the right rear Arkel bag. I fasten the front and rear panniers to the bike. I bungie the sleeping bag to the rear rack. I put on my helmet and gloves. I turn on the Garmin computer. I latch my coffee cup to the left rear Arkel bag. And, lastly, I say, "Hammer," as I stuff it in a tight space of the right Arkel bag, where it is handy should I need it. Then I mount the bike and start pedaling. So far on the BALM I have repeated this routine 24 times.

At the end of the day all of this seems to go in reverse. I stop the bike, get off, take the bags off the bike, erect the tent, inflate the sleeping pad and place it, along with the sleeping bag and hammer, in case I need, in the tent. I arrange the clothes to wear the next day. (Every couple of days I shower.) I see to the bike. I fire up the JetBoil to boil water for coffee or create-a-moment hot chocolate and for a freeze dried dinner boosted with Raemen Noodles. I eat. I crawl in the tent. I read, listen to music, write, sleep, wake up to cramps in the top of my feet, and sleep some more. So far on the BALM I have repeated this routine, minus the cramps, 24 times.

I suppose this is true of life in general. What we remember best, what we do best, is the daily routine, the actions required to kickstart the day and the actions required to bring the day to an end. Everything in between, because it is often so different from one day to the next, becomes a blur. I suppose that's why we take photographs, write notes, keep a journal or a blog, shoot video, make audio, or tell friends, hoping they'll remember should we forget.

I don't even do that very well. Have I noted anything specific that happened today, except for how I started the day, how the piece of fried chicken was memorable, and how I ended the day? I have written, instead, impressions, riffs, mash-ups, and stylistic musings, all of which, seemingly for me, embody the BALM. So far on the BALM I have now repeated this routine 24 times.

Later I will revisit these moments attempt to layer the map, the image, and the musing. Who knows what will come of that? Fiction? Poetry? Memoir? All those genre? Is there a name for the unity of the three? Truth?

But this is what happened today. I was biking desparately out of Montague on a head-banging disco-tech of a road that snapped into spa.

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