There’s a wilderness of land and people out there. More than anyone could know. And then there’s this other wilderness, almost entirely decoupled from the first one, that exists in people’s heads. It’s made of shorthand summaries and untested assumptions about the first wilderness, and it’s cramped and twisted like a funhouse ride and teeming with deranged fictional characters.
People who have done some traveling across the first wilderness – especially if it’s for fun – just love to creep into conversations and point out features of the second wilderness, all the time believing they are saying something meaningful, accurate, and wise about the first. They sorely want it to be true. Sometimes, sounding knowledgeable in the power play of the conversation at hand is what matters. We all love to play the wise mentor role.
This is how you get twenty-something know-it-alls at parties who say stuff like:
“Seattle is just a worse version of San Francisco.”
“People from Missouri are bigots.”
“New York is gross.”
“Everyone in Paris is so rude!”
“There’s more to do in Los Angeles than anywhere else.”
“All these new people moving to Austin are ruining the place.”
“People in Italy really know how to live.”
“Watsonville is full of Mexican illegals and if you go there you’ll get stabbed.”
(That last example may seem especially upsetting, but unfortunately, the inner wilderness is a place that can foster opinions that are not just pointless, but vicious as well.)
I know about this because I’ve caught myself doing it many times. It’s very tempting to point out some very personal, very subjective chunk of my own second wilderness and declare that everyone else will see exactly the same thing if they just go where I did. I keep trying to rein myself in, and talk about statistics instead, or give purely logistical advice.
But, paving the world around us with generalities and wishful thinking is a very human behavior. We do it to stave off madness in the face of an ultimately unknowable universe, because we are all far less capable of dealing with uncertainty than we want to admit. And sometimes our confidence needs the boost we can get by talking out loud, and we say something at a party like, “Oh I would never enjoy living in Canada.” … Conveniently forgetting the fact that 37 million people live there, and if they have a pretty good time of it, we probably could too. It would be no less honest – but far less flattering – to rephrase that confident statement as, “I’m mostly ignorant of how to enjoy life in a place like Canada and I want to remain that way, because I need to narrow down my choices for the sake of sanity.” After all, learning is work, and sometimes we prioritize.
I have to be okay with this, and so does everyone else, because we’re all only human. I really only bring it up because sometimes it’s very useful to recognize that we’re wandering around in the second wilderness – in the funhouse of our own assumptions – and if we just wake up a little and look around in more detail, we can find really useful connections, and gain new confidence. Every new place I go I’m astonished at how poorly I actually see things, and how much I lean on previous knowledge and trust that things will be predictable. I have to stop and go back, sometimes more than once, and ask “What did I just see? What did I just ignore?” and most important of all, “What’s being hidden from me because I’m a stranger?”
If you’re traveling, take a page of advice from a slow-ass bicycle tourist, and slow way down for a bit. Ask yourself a couple of those questions and give yourself time to seek an answer. Chances are, it will lead you somewhere way more interesting than the next picturesque monument on the madcap package bus tour you were offered by the tourist bureau. It was hard enough getting to that new place — so don’t forget to be there when you get there.
I woke up early, checked the time and listened to the announcements, then tried to nap a bit more. The captain’s voice blared out from the speaker on the wall inside my room, declaring that we all needed to be out and gathered in the hallways, and making my heart bounce off the top of my skull. No more sleep for me. In half an hour I was out sitting next to my bags in a hallway with only 5 hours of sleep.
I felt exhausted. I had to move my bags to be nearer a window and get cell signal, and from there I looked at maps and prices and found a hotel in a city 15 miles south of the ferry dock for a decent price. The weather report was good so I figured I would ride there even though I was tired, keeping the day from being a total waste in terms of ground covered.
When I moved my bags I accidentally left behind my Airpods case, and when I went back to look for it, it was gone. I double-checked all my bags and it was definitely missing. I threaded my way up the long hallway to the reception desk, passing a long stream of people exiting the boat, and asked an attendant if they’d seen a headphones case. I held up my other case to show her. She nodded, turned around, and pulled my case out of a drawer. True to that Danish sense of courtesy, someone had found the case and walked it all the way over to the lost items desk. Back home in Oakland, it would have just disappeared into a pocket.
Thank you, kind stranger who found these, wherever you are!
You need a vehicle like this, in case you need to, like, run over a beer can in the road or something.
I had to stand around for a long time waiting for cars to move, since me and the other cyclist had been boxed in by three very long tour buses parked too close for a bike to squeeze between. I moved my bike several times to make space for the buses to turn, and the other cyclist followed my lead. Finally I got a gap in the outgoing traffic, and I was down the ramp and in Denmark.
It was a pretty grand entrance, actually. The first thing I saw beyond the ship was a busy staging area full of moving vehicles, then a procession of metal cylinders in the distance, disappearing up past the ceiling of the cargo bay. When I emerged I saw that each cylinder was the trunk of a gigantic wind turbine, the blades gracefully rotating as flocks of birds sailed between them. Then the shadow of the boat ended and I felt a wash of warm sun all over my face and arms — the first I’d felt in weeks. I was so distracted I had to pull the bike over into a cargo stacking space and just hang out there, absorbing sunlight, for ten minutes. I also took the time to remove my sweater. Wouldn’t be needing that…
The wind gently guided me onto a side-road, and after only a few minutes I was well away from the ship and moving into town. I was starving so my first stop was a little cafe. The woman behind the counter had light blond hair and a deep brown tan. She reminded me of being a kid at the beach in California, running around in Junior Lifeguards class with all the other little tan blond kids. I settled down at a table outside in the sun, and ate a massive open-faced sandwich and most of a mocha.
Back on land that can grow vegetables! Eaten open-faced, of course.
Back on land that can grow vegetables! Eaten open-faced, of course.
As I ate, I chatted with my Mom and gave my impressions of the country, and learned a bit of family history.
Me
Wow, Denmark is as amazing as I remember it for biking… Bike lanes in many places, extremely polite drivers, nice and flat, and SUNSHINE!!!!
A 70 year old man held the door for me at the cafe I visited, since I had bike bags in my hands. I just saw two women in their 80’s out for a walk together with sticks and a walker, and both waved and grinned at me.
Mom
That’s how I remember the people too! Friendly, slightly reserved, and very polite! I believe “gracious” is the best word.
Me
Good word!
Going from extreme hills and 90mph winds to this is quite a shock. Camping in the Faroe Islands weather would have been a disaster, but there are campsites all over Denmark, more than anywhere else I’ve seen. I wonder if grandpa got an interest in camping from memories of Denmark? Or was he too young?
Mom
Your grandad was only five when they came here, so I doubt it.
Me
Hmm, well perhaps even at the age of five he had some interest in camping already cultivated.
Mom
Part of his growing up was in San Francisco very near Golden Gate Park where he spent a lot of time. Later there were many trips to Muir Woods.
Me
I did not know that!
Mom
Also, my uncle Happy, Denny’s father, was in the class above my mother at Berkeley High, so later they must have lived in Berkeley.
Me
I assume Berkeley is where grandpa met grandma?
Mom
I think so. Mother had a friend Essie in her dance troupe who was his cousin, so it was through her that they met.
Did you visit Copenhagen the last time you were there? That was where your grandad was born.
Me
It’s on my itinerary! I fly out from there.
I was now both nourished and totally wired, and it was time to ride. The Danish countryside did not disappoint, and I stopped constantly for photos.
It was wonderful. A enchanting reminder of just how relaxing and healing a bike ride can be. The sun warmed me, the air was fresh, the wind was behind me, the hills were gentle, the cars were shockingly polite and no one was speeding, and there were nice separated bike paths and birds and farm animals all around.
I stopped near a field and saw a mound of apples, left out for horses and cattle to find, and picked a few out for myself.
I sliced it with my pocket knife and used the backpack as a kitchen table, and stood there eating perfectly ripe apple by the side of a field on a quiet country road for half an hour.
I don’t care who you are, I could convert you to love bicycle touring in one week by getting you a long-wheelbase recumbent bicycle and putting you at the northwest end of Denmark, and giving you a phone and a sweater and telling you to cycle to the southeast corner. By the time you arrived you would be in such a state of nourished relaxed sun-tanned bliss that bicycle touring would forevermore be part of your life.
I also passed through a bunch of little towns. I felt very slightly disoriented by the transition between houses and countryside, and when I realized why I laughed to myself: I come from a place where farmland is in one region, and communities are usually pressed together in another. Mostly because of the presence of suburbs defined by the automobile, but also because parcels of farmland are generally bigger back home, with the houses on them set way back from the road.
There are parts of California where one can cruise from farmland to houses to farmland in the space of a few miles on a bike, but they aren’t typical. I was getting the impression that in Denmark, it’s like this by default, everywhere outside major cities.
I learned later on that this is the pattern in the north of Denmark, but suburbs and sprawl appear as one goes south, making the experience more like California.
Also, you know how I could tell this was a low-crime area relative to Oakland? Two things: Unlocked bicycles are everywhere, and even the young women out jogging alone look up and smile hello as I ride by.
One woman was out walking her dog, and she saw me and made her dog sit down on the grass next to the sidewalk so I could pass more easily.
I saw people out and about, but even as I entered an actual city, I consistently saw fewer people in public than I was expecting. Were the Danes still largely sequestered due to COVID restrictions, even a year and a half after the pandemic? Perhaps the vaccine roll-out was slower here than back home? Or was life just slower here?
By the time the 15 miles was done I was in fine spirits. The city had a quaint central area, and I took a bunch more photos, then checked into the hotel without trouble and re-fitted the bike for an evening out. From there I imported and sorted photos in a cafe while enjoying another tuna sandwich.
In spite of the lack of sleep on the ferry, I felt awake. On a whim I decided to see a movie. The local cinema was showing a recent American release, “Dune”, in English with Danish subtitles. I rolled the bike over and almost wondered if I should bother locking it to the rack or just leave it standing there like most of the others.
Everybody milling about with snacks, before the movie.
The movie itself was kind of disappointing, but I still had a good time. It was a very posh theater experience, and hanging out in close quarters with a bunch of Danish people felt oddly comfortable. They stood very near each other and made a low hum of conversation, sounding more like a classy dinner party without a band, instead of a bunch of strangers in public. It was interesting comparing it to the standoffish Icelanders I’d been dealing with. In fact, I couldn’t remember seeing that many people so close together anywhere in Iceland, except inside a few of the tourist-filled restaurants in the capital city, and the noise in those was appalling.
The ferry would leave today, but not until 9:00pm. I had plenty of time to get there.
As I left the AirBnB I sent a message to the owner, thanking him again for the food run, and extending the San Francisco invitation again. I got a nice response a few minutes later as I was turning south on the highway, making for the Kollafjarðartunnilin and Tórshavn beyond.
Just around the bend I found a little grocery store and bought some nourishing snacks, then immediately ate half of them standing next to the bike. I noticed a “Fisk And Kips” wagon very similar to the one I’d seen three days ago. It hadn’t been there before. Was there a fleet of them, always on the move? Maybe so. I wasn’t hungry enough for Fisk And Kips.
I listened to an NPR podcast about voting patterns and political donations, and thought about social media platforms, and how they always seemed to be a net drain on my sense of well-being. That led to a focus on social media platforms as an influence on everyone’s well-being. I challenged myself to come up with the shortest possible phrase to describe their core business model, and arrived at:
“Your privacy for our ads: What a deal!”
I yelled it out loud into the wind a few times and laughed very hard.
Later on in the day I decided to record a “timestamp” for the NPR Politics Podcast, and I sent it in with an up-to-the-minute photo of myself. Who knows, maybe it will be used!
(Edit, several months later: They did in fact use it! That’s me introducing the October 7th 2021 episode of the NPR Politics podcast.)
This was the first day since Iceland that I was covering the same ground twice, and this time it wasn’t from two years earlier, but just a few days. I found myself less distracted by the scenery and more distracted by my own thoughts.
The relationship question was dragging me back into the recent past, and the sudden breakup that had defined the last winter season. It had been a very negative experience. It was reasonable that I had unresolved feelings about it, but I knew it was also possible my brain was walking back through this experience in order to express something going on in my body: I was still tired, and I’d eaten poorly, and I was fighting what felt like a mild cold, and knowing that there could be a physical basis for something as ephemeral as my thoughts was often helpful in accepting them. However sensibly one word may seem to follow another, our inner narrative is driven by something that isn’t thought; by definition. It’s our physiology, brewing inside us, and the thoughts that join together on top of it have more in common with the foam on top of a cauldron than with the neat words we see on a printed page. Physiology is not rational. We can usually only be rational when it’s not churning so much.
This can be a very hard thing for someone who insists they are always thinking rationally to accept. I know it took me decades… (Typical man, aye?)
I remembered lying awake on worknights months ago, composing elegant monologues that I would deliver to her face if we ran into each other at the Tuesday farmer’s market back home in Oakland. It actually happened – we did run into each other, twice – but each time I was with one or more nephews, and she immediately about-faced and walked the other way. For the sake of my nephews I didn’t call after her, even though I was vibrating with rage for hours afterwards just at the sight of her. … That physiology, boiling over in the cauldron…
In the present, I rolled to the top of the first hill outside of town and paused at a turnout, recognizing it as the one where I’d taken the cool panorama of rolling clouds a few days earlier. It felt like longer. Timespans always do on a bike tour; events from just a few days ago can feel like they happened last month. Metabolism perhaps? All that sensory input?
I stood there muttering to myself and realized that I was making myself suffer, in isolation, for my own reasons and sense of injustice at what had happened. It was my own personal bear trap, and I was sticking my leg in over and over, and whether I kept doing that – or didn’t – made no difference whatsoever to her life or state of mind or sense of guilt. She was not involved in this. The only thing I could do was stop sticking my leg in the bear trap as early as possible, and find ways to be kinder to myself and healthier instead.
Perhaps I could find a single thought to use as a brace, metaphorically speaking. To keep the trap from closing, so I could step away. After a few minutes of gazing at the rolling clouds, the thought I found was this: Regardless of whether this romantic partner acknowledged it, or even believed it, I had obviously been treated poorly by adult standards, and some amount of damage was expected. Feeling upset and wanting to find resolution was expected, and the stress of being denied that resolution was also expected. That’s the trap: Insisting on a resolution that will never arrive. … Now, why should I put my leg in there? No good reason. Step back out.
Be conscious of these cool rolling clouds and this fresh air instead. Perhaps with a few more days of good sleep and a few good meals I would stop wandering over to this awful thing again. I was honestly surprised to find it so close-at-hand today.
When I got to Tórshavn the press of buildings cut the worst of the wind, but it was still wet and cold. On a whim I stopped at the bike shop and asked if they had any GPS trackers. Nope! Next order of business: I knew the food on the boat was pricey and the water was terrible, so I got another platter of sushi at the same restaurant, then poured glasses of water into my water sack until it was full again. I was as prepared as I could be, but I still had a couple of hours to wait.
When I was packing to leave the restaurant I noticed my kickstand was extremely loose. The lower bolt had come out, probably just in the last few minutes. Thankfully the other bolt was secure, so the kickstand wasn’t lying in some random gutter a few streets away. All I needed was a spare from my tiny parts bag.
Standing at the curb in my rain gear, I detached all the bags and flipped the bike, removed the rear wheel, and corrected the problem. There was no way I could ride with a loose kickstand. The second bolt could come out, or the metal brace could swing around and tangle up in my disc brake, and cause a thousand bucks in damage or more in a few seconds. I was glad I knew how to do this quickly, and had so much time before the ferry.
Job done, I coasted down to the old coffee shop from before and ordered another swiss mocha, even though it was 4:30pm. I wanted a fancy drink after the last five days. I also had a work meeting to attend, and the mocha rented me a nice table for it.
When the hour came, I looped around the harbor to the ferry terminal and boarded without problems. I was surprised once again that all they needed was a glance at the ticket on my phone. No desire to check ID, or see a passport, or even ask for a COVID vaccination certificate. Danish security is funny. It’s like, “You coming from the Faroe Islands? You’re probably too cold and/or stoic to be any trouble.”
I lingered by a porthole to get cell signal, then holed up in the room and watched more braindead Marvel films: “Thor 2” and “Thor 3.” I did some writing, did some music editing, and generally relaxed. Then I began to feel feverish. This wasn’t some kind of sea-sickness; I wasn’t prone to that. It felt more like a mild flu, including some digestive problems. Had I finally caught a variant of COVID-19?
I walked around the deck a little to see if fresh air would help. No luck.
The journey to Denmark from the Faroe Islands includes one whole day at sea. For the next 30 hours or so, I slept, tossing around on the tiny bed in my tiny room, conscious only of the surging ocean beneath the boat in the darkness. Occasionally I drank water from the sack I’d filled before embarking. Just as I remembered, the water available on the ship was either foul tasting or tourist-grade expensive.
Eventually the fever broke and I felt much better, but all the sleep had wrecked my body’s sense of day and night. It didn’t help that the transition to European time had cut two hours from the clock. I grazed on some cafeteria snacks while listening to an audiobook, then spent the final night on the boat drifting around in a haze of semi-sleep that wouldn’t make a great start to my Denmark ride.
I spent the day indoors, trying to get my body to stop aching. In the afternoon I took a nap.
The AirBnB owner came by to chat, and when I asked about food he volunteered to give me a ride to the local restaurant up the road, and waited in the car while I grabbed my phone-in meal. What a great guy! Along the way we chatted about work and travel schedules. He said he wanted to visit the US some time. I said he could stay in my spare room if he ever visited San Francisco.
He asked about my journey and I talked a little about Iceland and Denmark, and how I had managed to negotiate a chunk of remote work. He said that getting time off to travel was a very different situation in the Faroe Islands: “If you want time off, you just go to your boss and say, ‘I want to take three months off,’ and your boss will nod, and off you go.”
Matt
I had no idea you were out there! Aren’t those the islands off the West Coast, off San Francisco?
Me
Uh…
Matt
The ones we dumped a ton of radioactive nuclear waste around? Or am I… I think I’m mixing that up.
Yeah, isn’t that what you said? Oh the Faroe islands. Right. Now where in the hell are those?
Me
Usually they’re just south of a big swirly vortex of cold wind.
In the evening I watched more brainless Marvel entertainment: “Thor” and part of “The Avengers.” There were whole middle sections of both movies I’d completely forgotten. After that I stayed up much later than I expected, writing short emails to catch up with friends and workmates.
As I settled into the bed I could feel my mind scratching at the old relationship question again, like a dog digging around an old burrow, asking, “What do I want in a partner now, given that I’ve turned down so many different kinds of people over these last few years?”
