The Northern Voyage: Faith

Despite the puddles gathered in three of the four corners of my tent, Fort Johnson held. Fort Hinchey had taken too much water, sunken by the relentless barrage of rain. Fort Johnson II (Josh) found a survivor and managed to keep most of the water out. Mike Hinchey had made it through the night.

I glanced out of my tent like a turtle stretching out from his shell. Clouds were still very much apparent, hovering ominously overhead. Josh sat on the wooden picnic table making tea. Fantastic start.

Eventually, Mike accompanied us at the picnic table.

"Oh shit! My tire is no good. It feels flat. Do you think there's a leak in it?" he said looking wide-eyed at me.

"I dunno. Put air in it", I answered bleary-eyed, staring straight ahead of me.

"Here, feel it. I think there might be a hole", he said, bringing it over to me.

I squeezed the tire. "Yep. Needs air."

As Mike applied pressure from the pump, air zipped out from the rubber circle.

A hole.

As Mike began the process of fixing a flat tire, Josh took a look at his tires.

Another hole.

I looked at my tires.

Nothing.

"Looks rather suspicious don't ya think, Ralph?" Josh spoke jokingly, eyes narrowing.

"You got me", I said, still in a daze from waking up.

For the next half an hour or so, I helped the boys fix their tires while cleaning up my stuff. Halfway through all of this, the rain came back. It didn't stop for the next five hours.

The ground was slick but the rain wasn't too bad as I slopped first out of the campground. This was my thought process for the next couple of miles.

.2 Miles - This is kinda fun. Not all bad. I can get used to this.

.5 Miles - Eh, nah. Not my favorite biking weather.

1 Mile - I'm hot inside this poncho. Would it make a difference if I took it off? Eh, better just keep riding.

2 Miles - Fuck the rain. This won't letup. Jesus, another tractor trailer. Water everywhere. Eh, what difference does it make? I'm soaked.

3 Miles - ...alright

4 Miles - Everyone probably thinks I'm crazy biking in the rain. Turtle helmet and all. Thanks for waving back, asshole.

5 Miles - Enough is enough. No shelter after here for 10 miles? No thanks.

For the next two hours, the boys and I held up at a cafe, shooting the shit, reading books, drinking water, and consuming coffee. Finally, around 4pm, the sun came out and the storm ceased.

Here's where the really awesome part comes in. Josh had made a "Warm Showers" appointment (couchsurfing for cyclists) the night before with a family of two but we were too far away. Despite this, they said this morning we were more than welcome to come back for tonight or even just to stop by and say hello.

Karl and Allison Jassen: The best of the best. Saints.

I'm here now, lying in a bed made for me, with towels laid out for a shower, and my clothes cleaned.

Before I arrived, I called at 5pm and the response was, "Karl and I won't be home because we're going for a bike ride. The door is unlocked. Go right ahead in and make yourselves at home. There's towels in the back bedroom for showers", Allison told me.

I gawked, unsure of what to say. I wanted her to know she could trust me. To know I appreciated this more than anything. I gushed thank you's for her trust, kindness, and general amazingness.

About an hour later, I received a text message:

"Hey guys there should be at least a large cheese pizza for you in the kitchen. Help yourselves. It's a corner lot stone house with reddish siding. Allison."

Are you kiddin me?!

Allison is originally from Cleveland, Ohio, not too far away from Pittsburgh. Karl works from home as a Web Page Designer. Allison works from home as well, which sounds pretty wonderful for a young couple. Hell, any couple. Her and Karl have been married just a few months. They've been together a long time but as Karl said, "we're not very good at planning things." I was gonna fit right in with them.

The couple have a pair of beautiful children that I accidentally scared the living hell out of before bedtime. It was one of those things I saw coming. I was moving quietly through the dark living room as four year old Beckett came dancing around the corner, twirling in his own little world.

He was either going to bump into me or I could say something.

"Hey buddy", I whispered as he jolted toward the voice, eyes wide.

He let out a scream and ran in between his dad's legs. His little brother Ollie, age 2, followed his frightened older brother. Karl tried to reassure them.

"Aw, I'm sorry guys", I said leaving the room, realizing a losing situation when I saw one. Let the kids come to you, I thought. And they did! Kinda.

We played a bit of peek-a-boo or hide and seek as they were upstairs and I was downstairs. Beckett would peak out from up the steps and I would make pop out, making eye contact below and then he would scamper away giggling wildly. A few seconds later, he'd be back. All of this while holding a conversation with Karl. We talked about the economy of the 70's, his family, home construction, and the kids.

I can't thank the Jassen family enough. Eternal gratitude for their hospitality. I've received so much of this kindness from people that it really encourages me to pass it on to others.

This makes me feel nice.