They left us in tears, and didn't look back.

As like any other day, we rose, dressed packed, ate, loaded, cleaned, and formed a circle. Anyone inspired was allowed to share final thoughts. Sentiments were high and tears were shed. Everett closed with His Eye Is On The Sparrow. We prayed. We cheered "Oyee", and were off, but not so swiftly as previous days.

A rare shot of A.j.'s face

It was just a 37 mile ride; about 31 to the coastal point for our final destination ceremony. We set for a rendezvous a few miles before that, but riders, for the most part, stayed in a large group. We crossed marshland, through wooded trails, and along coastal roads. We closed ranks at our meeting point, and continued on as a single unit of just under 40 riders to the Portland Head Light on Cape Elizabeth. After entering the park we were greeted by families and friends of riders, and stopped at the lighthouse. Hugs and tears were all about, champagne sprayed, pictures and poses were taken; incidental tourists, curious about all the commotion, joined in our celebrations and we were able to share our mission. Down the rocky shore to dip our wheels, and one last group picture. Spirits, still high, pushed some deep into the water- personally, the North Atlantic and I go way back so just maintain a distant friendship on the surf line. I find her a bit cold. More folks approached us, and perhaps we found future Adventurers there.

We circled, we shared, we prayed. The final "Oyee!" Tears. We mounted for the quiet ride to our home here in Portland. We shared a meal last night- a table for 35 was difficult to find but the Ri Ra Irish Pub accommodated our mob on a moment's notice.

A few left before night. By this morning more were gone. Will led us in a "cinnamon roll" hug where we held hands and coiled around the center "hug-ee". Some slipped out quietly, and I missed their goodbye. It just got more excruciating as the day wore on. Thirteen were left, and we went for a lobster lunch, and shopping along the waterfront. Another departed.

Two leave early in the morning, and the remaining ten of us ride south in the van, hauling the remnants in the trailer. Coolers are washed, bikes are packed- bedding is padding them. The sun is setting on this day, and this odyssey.

This stepping-stone of life is dissolving into grains, and it is such bitter-sweet sorrow. Like a handful of gold-dust, sift falls away no matter how dearly you hold it.




The inevitable end is upon us. We each head to our new beginnings, destined to cross paths soon, or ultimately, for we are of one spirit.                                                                                                   Go with God, Adventurer.