All good things arrive unto them that wait-and don't die in the meantime.
The Adventure doesn't currently travel far from the Front Door.
Five months pedaling across this great country, another five hopping around the globe and eight weeks living on a fishing boat in Alaska has a way of leaving a guy with little desire to go anywhere that he can't arrive at by foot or his trusty single-speed bike.
The Surly hangs naked in the man shed, stripped of her usefulness awaiting a new life of adventure. Perfect autumn days in the Northwest offer glimpses of the Olympic Mountains fifty miles to the west, stoking the embers of ambition in my belly. I find myself pouring over maps and guide books, dreaming up ridiculous human powered expeditions that my current level of fitness doesn't even come close to supporting. All in good time, I tell myself.
Among the many truths that became abundantly apparent in the past year is that I am not getting any younger; the fuse is burning. There are still many things that I wish to do and precious little time to pull them all off. I also know that some things should not be rushed and close to home is a good place for me right now. Chances are the mountains and the crags will still be there in the spring and when Seattle emerges from the dank of winter, I will be ready to answer their call.
For now though, my daily pedal to work in the dark mist of the Seattle mornings puts a smile on my face and keeps me rolling in the right direction.