the closest we've been all day...

I, Georgia, after some deliberation have decided to leave the group a few weeks early in order to join some friends back in San Francisco for the celebration of the commemoration of their college career. Having made this decision to return a month or so ago, it now appears as though the actual leaving will be much harder for me than I had suspected it would be. In the course of a week I had graduated from college, moved out of my beloved apartment in San Francisco, managed to say goodbye to all my dear friends, and somehow prepared myself for my first ever bicycle tour. Emotionally I was still living the glory days of my senior year at college and had a rather rude awakening when I learned that for the next few months I would be wearing the same smelly, sweaty clothes day after day and huffing and puffing up an endless set of hills on my bicycle loaded down with gear. With only two pairs of pants, three shirts, and a few pairs of underwear, my life had suddenly been compacted down to fit into two panniers and I'd never learn to miss a simple pair of jeans more. With absolutely no idea of what life would really be like on a bicycle tour, I set off with all my confidence in the hands of my three companions; longtime friends who I couldn't have trusted more with the task of teaching me how to leave the comfort of my down comforter, hair dryer, and city apartment, to live life in the saddle, in a tent, and at the whim of the wilderness. They even laughed and rolled their eyes when I told them that I had made room for a single tube of mascara and an eye pencil, neither of which I used more than 3 times in four months.

The first few weeks were difficult, to say the least. Aside from the miles we put in daily that left me exhausted and yearning for sleep every night, there was the pain of an emotional detachment I felt from the comfort of my fairly organized and routine life in a city I'd come to love with all my heart. But as the homesickness tore on, what I never guessed was that in a few months time it'd be this new routine at the end of the day that I'd come to love just as much. At the end of the day it's the smell of BO that festers in the one outfit I wear day after day and even lingers in my sleeping bag, the nights sleeping on hard ground in freezing temperatures, and the moldy dampness that follows you around after days of endless rain that are all part of a life I've come to love and appreciate. At the end of the day it's the endless laughing about the strange encounters that we've had along the way and the reminiscing about the miles past that I'll miss. It's the mooing sounds we make every time we pass a herd of cows (something I thought was silly until I found myself partaking in) or the baaing we do when we see a group of sheep. Its the time we spend sitting outside grocery stores while everyone stocks up on couscous and oatmeal. Its the seemingly endless hours of rocking on ferries between Grecian islands. Its the daily routine at the end of the day when we're setting up camp and we swap books, compare farmers tans and number of bug bites. It's Emma's navigating and route planning that never fail to safely get us to the next place, Gen's lifetime soundtrack of rap and reggae that describe the trials and tribulations we've endured (only available live upon special request), and Lucy's helpful tips that have taught me the right way to pack my tent or store my sleeping pad that I'll be lost without. 

At the end of the day I realize that I had no idea what was in store for me at the beginning of this trip because it has been so much more than a trip. It has been a journey; one which could not have been fathomable without Gen, Emma, and Lucy. They've taught me how to stop counting the miles and truly appreciate each moment for what it is without worrying about time or schedules or plans. They've taught me how to try a little harder to see the positive side of things and do what happens as it comes along. They've taught me how to experience places and cultures and people in a whole new way, on two wheels powered by my own two legs. 

After four months and 2,817 miles we have become a team. We have climbed to high peaks, endured torrential rains, slept on hard grounds, and crossed borders. We have taken falls, visited hospitals, eaten fresh croissants in France and fresh pastas in Italy, hiked in the hills of Spain, and seen midnight mass on Christmas Eve at the Vatican. We've ridden on dirt roads, along a canals, and on grassy roads that hardly exist. We've ridden on country roads and national roads. We have biked HERE, and there, and back again.

As my time on this trip comes to an end, I'm not ready to leave. I'm genuinely jealous of the road ahead for Gen, Emma, and Lucy. I cant wait to hear the stories and see the pictures of everything that comes next for them. But all I can do is wish them a safe journey and thank them a thousand times for sharing with me some of the most amazing experiences I'll ever have. I believe I've finally made it. I have laughed and cried my way into becoming a bike tourer and I couldn't be more proud to be one.