Stuck on the concept of alone. It's odd as I'm addicted to biking and prepping to get my ass in gear for a solo ride to Montauk this weekend. I'm thinking if I do it solo, it'll be a quick trip. At the same time, I have no other option. Nary a soul I know wants to do that ride with me. And, to be honest, it is a long as hell ride. Yet, there is a reward: the ocean. Montauk is gorgeous and I think the actual ride out there could be one of those Gamechanger rides! It's 126-140 miles or so and I'm hoping it'll be as flat as flat can be to maintain 16 mph throughout it. I'm imagining leaving at 6:00 and getting there by 4:00. The sun should still be up and there would be time to visually soak in the sea. Actually, I think I'd focus on all five senses:
The one I'd be most content with, obviously, would be sight. Seeing the ocean and stars, STARS, out in Montauk would be priceless. The stars there aren't Outer Banks stars, but they are close to that end of the earth shit as you can get outside of NYC. Like Outer Banks beaches, they are wide, expansive and wavy
The scent of Coney Island or Rockaway Beach does not always equate a "good" smell. There are exhaust fumes, sweaty people galore and the city to contend with. Old Montauk Highway on the other hand will smell like the sea. There is a scent that only exists when you are close to the ocean. The salt itself and the dunes.......inhalation. Mmmmmm, just like fresh-baked cookies. Then, when there it is pure, unadulterated ocean.
The sense of taste is an odd one. Sweat tastes like the sea in so many ways. I'm kinda sure I'll be sweaty as all hell. It is a long ride after all. Yet, the ocean taste differs from sweat. How? I don't really know, but will get back to this in a later post and after I complete the journey.
Touch! All I need to say is sand. Sand between toes, stuck in your hair, in your bed sheets. Even after you get home you find it everywhere. It is annoying and a reminder at the same time. The sand that returns back with you says summer. Or, at least it reminds you of those long days when they don't exist anymore. At this point, I"m making a personal check list to bring a small bottle of it back with me to remind me of what is ahead after these winter days.....
Finally, there is the sense of sound, of hearing. The thing I am most excited for on this ride is to get the fuck out of the auditory realm of the city. I envision getting out of NYC, then getting into Long Island where the passing cars will become wavelike on their own. Then getting onto Old Montauk Highway and noticing the traffic to become less and less as I pedal. I'm hoping that, at that point, I'll actually hear gulls and the rustle of a breeze through the grass. Finally, after truly reaching Montauk, there will only be the sound of waves clapping the shore. The waves and me. Just hoping my thoughts, negative and brooding, do not overpower them.
The sense of taste is an odd one. Sweat tastes like the sea in so many ways. I'm kinda sure I'll be sweaty as all hell. It is a long ride after all. Yet, the ocean taste differs from sweat. How? I don't really know, but will get back to this in a later post and after I complete the journey.
Touch! All I need to say is sand. Sand between toes, stuck in your hair, in your bed sheets. Even after you get home you find it everywhere. It is annoying and a reminder at the same time. The sand that returns back with you says summer. Or, at least it reminds you of those long days when they don't exist anymore. At this point, I"m making a personal check list to bring a small bottle of it back with me to remind me of what is ahead after these winter days.....
Finally, there is the sense of sound, of hearing. The thing I am most excited for on this ride is to get the fuck out of the auditory realm of the city. I envision getting out of NYC, then getting into Long Island where the passing cars will become wavelike on their own. Then getting onto Old Montauk Highway and noticing the traffic to become less and less as I pedal. I'm hoping that, at that point, I'll actually hear gulls and the rustle of a breeze through the grass. Finally, after truly reaching Montauk, there will only be the sound of waves clapping the shore. The waves and me. Just hoping my thoughts, negative and brooding, do not overpower them.
