Fortune has smiled upon me by allowing me to see much of the world at a relatively leisurely pace.  

    When I first began to work seriously, I found myself in the energy business staking claims, drilling holes, drawing maps, and living in small towns and trailers throughout much of the West.

    Later, during the twelve years I earned my living as a seaman, I saw many beautiful coastlines and islands, visited many busy port cities, and stopped at a very few quiet ones; like Rabul, New Guinea.  This was a wonderful way to see the world because sailors are well received by working class people the world over.      

    I’ve also owned two sailboats, one of which I built myself -- a 42 foot, twelve ton steel schooner.  I saw much less of the world on these, but I saw it more intimately and at the fickle will of the wind.  One of the great joys of travel by boat or ship is that you sleep in your own bed every night and eat in your own saloon every morning.

    As a hiker and climber, I’ve seen the view from the top of more 14,000 peaks than I can name and walked through barren deserts -- which aren’t so barren when you see them on foot -- and thick green rain forests.  

    But as a bicycle rider, I think I see the world through the most perfect window of all.  So perfect, in fact, that I often took a bicycle with me during my sea roving days.  

    The picture at the top of this blog was taken in a big shed behind a little store just outside of Climax, North Carolina.  Before moving here, I’d often read that North Carolina is famous for it’s mountain music.  What I didn’t know, is that down here in the Piedmont, the musicians also like to get together for a concert and another chance to eat.

    Almost as soon as we settled into our house, I began to hear about these little music get-togethers.  There are some that are better advertised and for which you pay your way in.  And there are those where you show up with something for the food table, and, hopefully, an instrument to play.  I play at the ukulele, but I don’t really play it well and I don’t play by ear, so Nina and I are at the bringing something to eat stage of the game.  There are a few people at these things who know I fool around with the uke and they announce that loudly when we show up and admonish me to go home and not come back without my ukulele.  When I protest that I don’t play by ear and have to have the music in front of me, they all tell me that they don’t play by ear either and that they can’t read music.  The truth is, some of them are outstanding musicians and all of them are extremely friendly.

    So where does the bicycle come into this?  The bicycle comes in finding these places.  The first ho-down I heard about was one that happens on Thursday nights at a store on Whites Chapel Road.  A man named Buddy told me about it.  Buddy left home as a young man, spent fifty years working on big construction project around the world, and then moved back.  I went looking for the store.  

    I rode out Whites Chapel Road from one end to the other without seeing store one.  The next time I saw Buddy, I told him as much and he said it isn’t much of a store.  So one day I rode down to Whites Chapel Road and then all around the area where Whites Chapel sits.  I found the church, and the cemetery, and some houses, but no store.

    Another day, I rode out Whites Chapel Road and decided to follow it on past where it stops being Whites Chapel Road and just goes on into Staley.  On a previous bicycle ride, I noted a store in Staley that had a sign in the window advertising music on one night or another, but when I got to Staley this time, the store was closed and for sale.

    Then one day, I was looking at a county map while planning an afternoon ride when I noticed Whites Memorial Road.  I’d been on that one before, but I’d forgotten about it.  I jumped on my bicycle and headed out.  Forty-five minutes later, I pulled into the lot in front of a little store just as a big fellow was coming out.  “I’ll be right in,” he told me, “I just have to get something out of the pick-up.”  

    I told him that I heard they play music on Thursday’s at a store on Whites Chapel Road but now I wondered if it was a store on Whites Memorial Road.  “Sure is,” he beamed.  “They play right inside on Thursday nights.  If you ride your bike, you can park on the porch, if you drive, you can park on the lawns in front of those houses if the store lot is full.”  He pointed at two houses next to the store.

    A couple of weeks later, Nina told me there would be some music at the Bethel Church fellowship hall.  She told me that Bethel Church is on New Salem Road.  I told her I know where it is.  I ride past it on my bicycle quite often.  It’s been there since 1796 and a lot of people know where it is.  A lot of other people don’t.

    The picture above comes from a big quonset hut style shed behind another little store.  This store is in Climax.  Climax is about twelve or so miles north of us.  I heard there was music up there, but that’s all I heard so I turned the trip to Climax into a ride for a Saturday afternoon.  Climax is at the intersection of two highways -- not big highways, but there is a stop light where they meet.  When I rode into town, I thought that the people working in the quick stops and pizza place, might not actually live in Climax and wouldn’t know anything about the music so I crossed Highway 62 -- I was pleasantly surprised the the light tripped for my bike -- and rode into the back lanes of town.  

    The first road I tried, took me to a dead end and a Baptist church.  That didn’t look right so I backtracked and went on.  I saw some buildings ahead and went on, but they turned out to be a farm.  I was just about to go back when I saw a yellow sign a little further on and decided to ride up to see what it was about.  It wasn’t about anything.  It only said that the road to the right was a dead end.  Then I saw a little store so I rode on and into its parking lot.  

    At first, this looked promising, but when I went inside, I saw that it was a real store.  It’s pretty clear they sell locally grown food and some crafts, but it was obviously a for profit store.  Well, I thought, the lady behind the counter must be local and might know where they play music in Climax so I asked her.  She did.  “Right through that door, in the back room.”

    I love seeing the countryside on bicycle rides, and brevets are the best way I can think of to get me out touring in places I wouldn’t find on my own, but the window my bicycles provides is extremely transportable and the view is always interesting.  Away from home, it is an exciting and exotic view.  Close to home, it is quiet and intimate view.  And through that window, I make all kinds of discoveries traveling along at 15 or 16 miles per hour.  It’s my window to the world.