Hold Fast to Dreams...7 Months Later
The Lesson: It’s all a part of it.
My stomach is gurgling and rumbling. Again. My body has been unable to maintain health for longer than a week ever since I crossed the border into Peru. Between a cold, countless stomach issues, and strep throat, I’m trying hard to recuperate and drink tons of green tea. I need to get my immune system back to its once-gladiator strength. I’m impatient. I just want the sunshine and lollipops that bike touring was in the beginning to return.
I’m tired. So tired. I want to move forward, take advantage of the sun before the rains come. I’m not as far south as I had planned, which adds stress to the setbacks. This repeated illness makes me sad. It makes me frustrated. It makes me homesick like nothing else could. If I’m honest, I’ve been dreaming of my friends and family and all of the foods I miss and crave.
Feeling sick is like the drain plug on the bath tub of positivity, once you lose the plug the good stuff can drain out pretty quickly if you’re not careful. Mostly things are good, but when sickness strikes the fun bucket empties too fast. I wish I could state that everything is awesome! I’m loving it! Which is often true. But sometimes I get a little travel weary. I never thought I’d get tired of traveling or riding my bike. I’ve wanted nothing else for so long.
It’s just now sinking in that I'm doing something challenging. Some people even think that it is impossible. Since it's the thing that I most want to do, I keep going. Constant forward motion can be exhausting, especially solo. Even though I'm not moving as fast as I had hoped, I'm still going to do it. Because who would I be if I wasn't doing the thing that I really wanted to do?
And even though it is one of my dreams, there are some days when riding is the last thing I want to do. Some days it takes me forever to get on the bike and ride just a few miles. Maybe because I’m stopping all the time and saying wow that plant is really amazing or wow this thing is really cool or even, wow this thing is really hard. It’s all a part of it. The negative thoughts aren’t going to help me get back on my bike; to tackle the next week of remote and steep Andean riding. But maybe the world is telling me to slow down, write some things, call my mom.
And when I reflect back on the past seven months on the road…do I think about the sick times first? No, of course not. I think about the Pacific coast camp spot in Baja where I first felt truly alone, but also truly grounded. I stretched my cramped shoulders and stared at the stars, waves crashing below my sea cliff camp spot. I thought, Wow, I’m really doing it. This is amazing. I’ll think of the full moons and the snowy peaks, the diversity of plant life and culture. The friends I’ve met along the way. How I’ve been a combination of sometimes lonely and then overwhelmed with company. This is all part of it too. I’ll think of all the good meals and the downhills and the countless things I’ve learned about myself. I’ll think of the ecosystems witnessed in a day from glaciers to cactus. I’ll think of the sideways snow at 16,000’ that was painful, but I got through it. I’ll remember the many kind people I have met and how much I’ve learned about other cultures. I’ll think of the huge valleys and expansive views that I never could have imagined. Even when you see photos, it’s not the same. It’s like putting the Grand Canyon on a postage stamp.
I’ve learned that in pursuing this dream, I could have done things differently, timed things better, etc. But I don’t regret leaving when I did and how things have played out. I’ve learned countless things, both little and big. Though I felt tortured by the fear of missing my stepdaughter’s high school graduation, her statement that my trip gives her strength and inspiration to pursue her own dreams is a comforting affirmation of my decision to make this adventure real. If nothing else ever comes of this, that’s enough for me: to inspire one 17-yr-old to live her life with gusto.
Today I’m laid up in a Soviet-style concrete hotel in Chiuchin, Peru. The delay feels forever when you’re in it, but in reality, one or two days is nothing. Sure, all the illnesses add up, but there are many people dealing with much larger medical issues around the globe. I am grateful that I will heal and that I will continue. It’s all a part of it. If this journey were easy there wouldn’t be any sense of accomplishment or adventure.
As I write these words, my stomach is doing summersaults. However, I’m not in intense pain. I’ll pull myself out of this mental and physical mud pit and I’ll read and write. Hopefully, tomorrow I will be back at it, climbing that notoriously steep hill with at least a little strength. I’m still holding fast to the dream through the difficult times, because they are part of the adventure too.
All photos are courtesy of Hollie. To read more about Hollie’s adventure, check out her blog, Hollieandherbike.home.blog and follow her on Instagram: @hollie_holly.
Hollie Ernest
Hollie is in the midst of pursuing one of her life’s grandest adventures as she cycles around the globe. She is eight months into the journey and relishing every challenge and glorious moment her pedal strokes lead her to. As a botanist by trade, she encourages others to appreciate the diversity of flora wherever they are, as it can truly deepen our experiences.