May your troubles be less - and blessing be more. May!

May arrived and brought with it the start of many new things!

Baby guinea hens arrived! Via card-board box as usual, bringing joy and laughter as all chicks do.

The first summer sunsets on the lake as it’s slowly beginning to warm.

I graduated from high-school! An exciting and scary and big new thing.

The first warm walks to the beach! Accompanied by Huckleberry and Devman.

And the first tiny little leaf buds decided it was time to begin showing their new green heads.

Our springs come slowly, the lake cools our climate and we end up weeks begind the growing season. But especially southern Wisconsin! As I was about to learn.

I was about to embark on a solo journey.

A bike packing trip up Wisconsin! From the very bottom to the very top.

After months of food prep: cooking, dehydrating, planning and packing, as well as collecting gear, making bike bags and… ordering a bike; I was as ready as I would be!

Mama drove me the five and a half hours to the border of Illinois and Wisconsin, I loaded my paniers and bike bags onto my bike, (which now weighed a total of 80 lbs) and I was off!

Towards the Mississippi River!

This journey would take me to and up the Mississippi River, up the Wisconsin River to the Kickapoo River, through Sidie hollow to Viroqua. Then I would go through La Farge, along the Kickapoo River again through Ho Chunk Nation land, to the Spart Elroy trail, which led me to Sparta. Continuing along county and forest roads to the Black River State Forest, County Clark and Eau Claire County forests, where my trip took a much wanted drop in elevation. I was then lead along endless gravel roads, forever northward, to and through the Chequamgon national forest, and the Lac Courte reservation, Through Hayward, and up to Washburn!

Where I saw the lake for the first time.

Then one final day up through Bayfield, through the Red Cliff Reservation to the Point Detour Campground! The furthest north point of Wisconsin.

I added a few miles then, biking back to the highway, and to herbster, totally my trip to 600 miles! With 30,021 ft of elevation climbed.

I had planned for 14 days, two weeks average around 45-50 miles a day.

My first few days were set, with a set day in Viroqua, giving me structured days to began, but man were those days hard.

My first day began at 2pm, but I was still able to ride the 43 miles, with 3,345 ft elevation and make it to camp well before dark.

My second day took me along the Mississippi, cutting inland just to add in-human gravel inclines it seemed, eventually ending me at Wyalusing State Park, totally 56.4 miles, with 4,547 ft elevation.

The physical toll on my body only amplified my emotions, with the hardest day I’d ever ridden as day two, and the idea of 12 more days, I was feeling a lot of things.

The goal of this trip was to enjoy the journey, to “find myself”, to accomplish this on my own, but as the days slowly passed I began to realize the challenge of my goals.

I wasn’t enjoying the journey, I was holding myself to unrealistic expectations created by me to “push” myself.

I was too focused on making miles at certain times to even enjoy my surroundings, and beyond that a deep feeling of loneliness was ever present, without my family and loved ones a phone call away, this trip would have been impossible.

Which is ok, and I began to learn that that support is strength, not weakness, a lesson I was forced to learn just the next day, waking up to rain with more forecasted the whole day, relying on support and encouragement to make it through.

The third day I focused on my mental and mindset more then I ever had before, catching the negative thoughts before they grew and replacing them with something positive, the rain forced me- or invited me to reflect on what this trip would bring.

I had a lot of worry, I was facing many challenges I had struggled with in the past, and I was facing them alone, which added another level of clarity. I didn’t have the distraction company would provide, or someone to process or even complain with. I was alone.

My fourth day came with sunshine! And brought me to Viroqua, to friends and a warm house, laughter and company, which was such needed medicine for my journey.

The evening was too short and all too soon I was packing my now heavier bike and heading out into the rain again.

My fifth day put into crisp perspective that my limits were strictly based on what I THOUGHT I could manage and not what I COULD do.

I ended up biking 62.4 miles, with 4,096 ft elevation, further then I’d ever biked before, and through my worry and trepidation, I proved I could go further, I took one moment at a time, forcing myself to be present, and through that lense I saw my strength.

This brought me to the second half of my journey! No set days, no reservations, not as many plans, and that feeling of openness and possibility was exciting!

My sixth day I biked 74.6 miles with 3,843 ft elevation, proving yet again that I could go further.

I had finally made it to state forests, which led to endless straight, dirt and gravel roads, which provided a new challenge of monotony.

I was in my head everyday, alone and with nothing to block me from my thoughts.

We so often find escape in our daily lives, that being faced with all of your fears, emotions, goals, thoughts, and mental spirals, can feel realllly intimidating.

I found meditation and comfort in the rotation of my peddles, the routine of biking, setting up camp, making my food, sleeping, food, pack up, bike…

I began to enjoy my journey.

Day seven brought new challenges… wind.

With the flattening topography the wind became an ever present companion.

This day was hard, climbing just 2,561 ft elevation, but constant and slow over the first 40 miles.

I stopped at my first Kwik trip! A classic midwestern experience.

I bang to notice landscape changes, returning slowly to spruce and pine forest, and with my ever northward movement, I began to feel more at home.

I did 66 miles, and felt really good, I’ve settled, into the rythmes, into my saddle, into the set and rise of the sun and I began to feel my journey working its way through my entire being.

I was camping on the shores of a beautiful river, in which of course I had to dip, only deepening my connection with the land in which I was traversing.

Day eight! This one truly tested the beliefs and the foundation I had began to lay during this trip.

I encountered some really difficult terrain, sandy and rocky atv tracks, my progress incredibly slow, with side by sides flying by forcing me off the track into raspberry and poison ivy.

When I had the chance to skip the next many miles and instead head west on the highway I jumped for it, nearly crying with relief as my tires glided into pavement.

But that was not the end on the struggles.

I soon put on miles on the highway, and began thinking about a camp spot.

Re-routing from the planned route meant finding a new way to my planned camp, but I didn’t have enough service to find the small roads I needed to head north, and stopping to check my phone introduced me to the swarm of black flys and gnats that had been waiting for just an opportunity.

I soon realized I was in for the longest day yet.

I aimed loosely for Hayward, knowing that was too far away, hoping I would find something before then.

I soon made 60 miles, 65, then 70, and then 75 miles done.

As I biked further west I encountered more traffic coming from Hayward, and as the day grew on, vehicles lights turned on, and I knew I had to get off the road soon.

I stopped a few times to scout for camp, I was conflicted on whether I wanted to ask someone for permission and have my location be known, or to stealth camp, risk it being the wrong spot and having know one know where I was, for better or worse.

I asked at a winery/event restaurant, the reply was they had bears and if I got eaten by a bear it would make them look bad.

Frustrated and beyond exhausted I pushed on.

Finally the angel called my papa was able to contant me with a spot of found service and got a hotel for me in Hayward, a gift I truly think saved me, and so I pushed on, 88.3 miles, with 3,185 ft elevation.

I really think I only made it with the knowledge that I had a warm bed and bath waiting for me.

I made it to Hayward and hauled my bike up to the Hotels second floor, up the stairs and to my wonderfully comfortable bed.

I am so grateful for that gift, to dry out and reset.

But soon enough the next day dawned and I had to leave to warm sheets and head out, once again into the rain.

Day nine was yet another mental game. I was forced to re-route onto a highway as the rain had made the planned single track not an option on my heavy bike.

And so I plodded on, feeling every mile creep by, stopping occasionally only to get chilled and be forced to keep moving.

I got to mile 65 ish and turned into one of my first gravel roads, my tires stuck in the wet soil, the clay gripped anything it could grab, I slogged for about a quarter mile up hill before making a smart decision that ten miles of this would not work.

I biked down to the lake and up along the shore to Washburn! Camping my last night on the lake, with the first sun of the day! (Of course I jumped in the lake).

It was bittersweet to see the ending so near,

For so many days I had wished that the end would come sooner, but I found myself reflecting as I set up my tent one last time.

What lessons had I learned?

What goals had I reached?

I hadn’t “found” myself, but I had realized that that was impossible, if you go searching for something that is already there you will never find it.

Instead you have to learn yourself, as you are.

And then it is possible to see and make change and growth.

Day ten! My final day.

When I left Sparta I had a feeling it was near the middle of my trip, and as I pushed north and made it further and further each day I began to hope that I could make it sooner then I thought.

I never thought I would make it in four less days then planned!

I packed up for the last time, and biked north.

The fog was thick and dense and by the time I made it to Bayfield I couldn’t even see the ferry dock below the road.

But as I headed into the red cliff reservation the sun began to burn of the fog, it would be a beautiful blue sky day.

I was really tired, I had 25 miles to the end and those miles felt like 40.

My body had slowly been taking more tolls then my rest could recover, I was constantly exhausted, and with the end so close my body decided it was ready to be done.

I pushed on.

Eventually to dirt roads, which reflected my brief experience the night before, but with no other way forward I was forced to make agonizingly slow and difficult progress.

As I neared the end I recounted the miles in which I’d biked, the challenges and joys, the hardships and achievements.

The momentum of the moment which I felt so big inside me was not reflected at my destination.

I biked into the thickly wooded campground, finding it empty and without easy access to the lake or even a sign for an ending point.

I was able to climb down a rock cliff and make it to the water, completely my journey in earnest.

That was the moment I felt the most alone.

I had sought to feel satisfied with myself on this trip, but standing there at the finish of the biggest and hardest thing I’d ever done, without service to call anyone or the option to share the significance of this achievement; the moment felt small, and with it the success.

I figured I might as well began biking home.

I finally made it back to the highway, exhausted, tired, feeling deflated and ready to be done.

The highway stretched endlessly ahead.

I knew the road, which made it feel longer.

Endless pavement rolling onward.

I finally made it to cornucopia, charged my phone, ate some food and re-assessed my situation.

At this rate I would get home near 8:30pm, which was sunset, so I’d be biking on the highway not only for another fifty miles but on a busy road at dusk.

I called papa and we set a meeting point in Herbster ten miles further.

It would allow me to complete 600 miles.

I felt conflicted about being picked up “so close” to home. But I had completed my goal already, biking home was just a convenience for whomever picked me up, not necessary.

And I can say, honestly, I could not have made it those last forty miles.

And maybe my last lesson I needed to learn was that it really is ok to ask for help.

Feeling accomplished or proud doesn’t require “proving” anything.

And with that my journey was over.

We drove home and I felt like we were flying at light speed, 55mph felt like 105mph.

Within minutes we were home.

Back to the start.

And my journey was completed.

I think I am still processing all that this experience gave me, and I think I will for a while.

But what I know is by the love of my family, and the strength of me, I completed that hardest thing I have ever done, and I’m damn proud of myself.

Through this journey I reflected a lot on what it meant to graduate, and what it meant to “Complete” something.

I find it hard to feel success in my achievements, and being faced with some big ones I reflected on why that might be.

I find the need for external validation, more even then feeling proud of myself.

We live in a world where our accomplishments and achievements are almost more important then who we are ourselves.

So I have began, with baby steps, to change my thinking away from that, towards feeling more content with who I AM and not what I’ve done.

It’s a challenged but I believe it’s a worth while one.

An Irish blessing taught to me by Rebecca Walton during my 2024 Fall Semester at Kroka

“May your troubles be less, and blessing be more

And nothing but happiness come to your door

And may you have luck wherever you go

May your blessing out number the shamrocks that grow

May the wind be at your back and sun be overhead

May friends be at your side wherever you my tread

Strength and love will lead you on,

Sharing caring we are one”