Shifting Gears: A Journey of Reinvention - Softcover

Pintkowski, Mari

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1462017355 ISBN 13: 9781462017355

Publisher: iUniverse, 2011

Synopsis

A four-thousand-mile bicycle trip gives you plenty of time to contemplate the universe, life, and love.

For Lou, turning fifty meant it was time to re-evaluate everything. So the ex-ski bum from Vail has a custom bike built, and he heads off from Steamboat Springs, Colorado, on the trip of a lifetime. At this time, Lou has no ties to a job or family-and his relationship needs time to settle. It was time to embark on the bike tour he had always dreamed of.

As cooler fall air teases gold from the quaking aspens, he looks north, toward the national parks of the West, across the Cascades to the Pacific Northwest, and down the California coast. Three months later, he's in Palm Springs, California. With countless hours spent pedaling his Jamison Coda, he has plenty of time to review his past. His is a life story peppered with hilarious escapades from the early days of Vail and Aspen, when those colorful pioneers created their own folklore along the way. For Lou, whose future was uncertain when he pulled out of Steam-boat, his time on the road brings it all into focus.

Solo cycling gives way to a journey of romance. Ten years after his epic journey, Lou returns to the Pacific Northwest, this time with his wife, Mari/Moe. Together, they reflect on how they have boldly shaped their dreams into reality and reinvented their lives as inn-keepers in Tulum, Mexico.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

SHIFTING GEARS

A Journey of ReinventionBy MARI PINTKOWSKI

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Mari Pintkowski
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-1735-5

Contents

1. PEDDALING TOWARD SIXTY.............................................12. TIME TO PACK FOR THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST.............................173. THE LAUNCH: BACK ON THE ROAD.......................................214. ADVENTURES IN BIG SKY COUNTRY......................................335. MEETING THE PAST, FACING THE FUTURE................................446. HEADING FOR THE FAR NORTH..........................................517. KALISPELL, WHITEFISH AND PLACES BEYOND.............................638. RIDING THE RAILS WESTWARD TO THE PACIFIC OCEAN.....................729. IN THE SADDLE AGAIN................................................8010. ISLAND FEVER......................................................8511. WHEELING THROUGH NORTHWEST CANADA.................................9412. BACK IN THE USA...................................................11313. RIDING TO THE RAIN FOREST.........................................12814. CALIFORNIA, HERE I COME...........................................13715. RECOVERING AND REUNITING..........................................15016. STAYING ON COURSE.................................................15517. SEVEN YEARS LATER: THE WEDDING....................................15718. THE THIRD THING...................................................16319. TRAVELING IN TANDEM...............................................16720. NORTH OF THE BORDER...............................................17421. PACIFIC NORTHWEST.................................................19422. SOUTH OF THE BORDER...............................................20123. FOLLOWING THE MARIPOSA TRAIL......................................20424. APPENDIX..........................................................209

Chapter One

PEDDALING TOWARD SIXTY

My Polish-American, jack-of-all-trades husband and I are turning sixty this year. The upcoming passage has led to much discussion and reflection of what we want to accomplish in our lives and just how our past has influenced our thinking.

One steamy night under a whirling fan in our casa in Mexico, we begin to talk about the path we have chosen that led us to a foreign country, many miles from friends and family, simply allowing the elusive butterfly to guide us as we traveled south from Vail, Colorado, to Tulum three years ago. I smile slightly as I begin to speak to Lou, "Where are you going to get the inspiration for the next sixty years of your life?"

He disappears upstairs and comes back carrying a large, white plastic box. I recognize it as one of Lou's treasured possessions that has survived the many moves he has made in his adult life. He lovingly sets the box on the table and taps the top with his knuckles. He slowly opens the lid and whispers, "I have opened this box on occasion in the past when I needed inspiration, confidence, optimism and joy."

"Sounds like this is a good time to revisit what's inside, Lou."

I sit uncharacteristically still as he speaks with the air of a storyteller.

"The pictures and news clippings from my youth bring back memories that awaken the stories in my mind," Lou says solemnly.

As he hands me the first picture, his description begins to transcend the barriers of time and space and makes me feel like I am with him as he is running down Vail Mountain. His lean five-foot-eight frame had a bronze glow, hinting that being outdoors was more than an occasional happening. He leans over and explains, "What's not in the picture is that I am betting my ski-buddies that I can run down Vail Mountain from Mid-Vail and beat the gondola to the bottom."

"Lou, you said you were betting against your buddies. Tell me more."

"What else did one do in the summer in the small ski town of Vail in 1967 except sit on the Red Lion deck sucking down a few beers while watching the gondola go up and down? One of our favorite topics in the winter at après ski was how many runs you made from the top of the mountain to the bottom that day. This made me remember how my thighs burned non-stop down Riva Ridge and how good it felt to push myself to be the first to arrive at the lift."

"Sounds like a bit of boasting, or beer talk to me."

"Maybe, but we all knew that the only thing that limited the number of runs we could make in a day was the speed of the lifts. That's when I got the stupid idea that I could run faster than that silver bubble that traveled up and down the mountain on its cable. Of course, now we had to find out. We were all in a state of anticipation when we boarded the next gondola car to Mid-Vail."

"The intense expression on your face in the photo tells me this was more than fun and games for you. What's the rest of the story? I want to know more."

Lou explains that in his youth, he had an obsession for challenging his strengths against himself and others. "More often than not, I didn't think about the physical damage that I could, and often did endure during these challenges. On that particular day, we rode the gondola up to Mid-Vail, and after placing our bets, I headed down the mountain at a pace I thought I could maintain while keeping an eye on the gondola car that my friends were riding in. I was trying my best to keep up. It did not take long to realize there was no way I could beat the gondola unless there was one of the all-too-common power outages. No such luck! Do you think that I gave up and took the catwalk around the grueling Pepi's Face which later became the finish line of many international ski events? No, instead I went straight down the mountain to the base where I knew my amigos would be watching from the Red Lion deck. When I got down the mountain, all I could think of were my screaming knees and burning thighs that kept me limping for days."

"I bet everyone still cheered you on and toasted with a cold beer in hand even though you failed at the attempt. Lou I can't help but ask, was this about them or you?"

"I would have to say a little of both, but I think it was more about the feeling of satisfaction I got from pushing myself to the limit than pleasing the crowd."

I set the picture down on the table, and wonder what I would have done. In minutes Lou hands me another photo. This one is smaller with scalloped edges and is almost a sepia color. I have to adjust the light to see that it is Lou as a young boy proudly standing in front of his family's brick-front house on Packard Street in what is now a suburb of Detroit, Michigan. His hand rests proudly on a Schwinn Hornet bicycle. "That's a beauty, Lou. It is bigger than you are. Did you get it for your birthday or something?"

"It was a hand-me-down from my brother, and my sister before him. I wasn't proud! I was elated to finally have wheels. This gave me the opportunity to reach beyond my immediate neighborhood and finally be able to explore the boondocks like my older siblings. I will never forget the exhilarating feeling I had on my first ride as I took off from my house and eventually bumped down a dirt road all by myself. In fact, Moe, the bike gave me the opportunity to earn money with my paper route."

I think back to my youth and respond, "I remember when my brother had a paper route. It was a lot of responsibility, but I don't recall that it was much of an adventure."

Lou sits down and a very serious look crosses his face. "I had the best corner in my neighborhood for the Sunday papers and I even took on a helper and had him delivering the papers on my regular two routes. I know this sounds crazy for a twelve year old, but I would get up at 4 a.m. on Sundays and go to the coffee shop across the street from my corner and order toast and coffee while I waited for the bundles of the Sunday edition of the Detroit Free Press and The Detroit News to be dropped off."

"Are you serious? I am surprised your family let you do this and miss the ritual of attending Mass together."

"I guess it was because I was earning money that my dad gave me permission to skip church. In fact, I remember how my family would drive by my corner at 10 a.m. after Mass and honk the horn."

"Perhaps your Dad knew this was something you felt strongly about and he wanted to support you as a parent. I try to do this with my daughter Ailish when I can."

"I was never satisfied with the norm. I had to push myself to do more. I guess I was always trying to prove my worth to my parents, my older siblings and their friends because I was younger and smaller. I was the kid who always got picked last to play ball and got sent out to cover right field."

"I think as an adult you often challenge yourself as well."

"I am trying to be more tranquil these days and not let my ego control my actions. However, I often took the opposite approach in the many business ventures I engaged in and, as you know, it was not always successful; but that is a story for another night."

"Lou, did you bike in the early days when you lived in Vail?"

"Sure, but I didn't have a good bike until I moved to Aspen several years later. In the early 1970s, the Celestial Seasonings Amateur-Pro Race was scheduled to take place in Vail, and the town race committee wanted to get the locals involved in the events so they set up preliminary races to test the course."

"I remember those races when I arrived in Vail in the summer of 1975. My first husband, Dan, and I had recently settled in Vail and were not part of the local scene yet, so we joined the many spectators cheering the racers on as they cycled through the tight curves on Mill Creek Circle. I always wanted to have one of the classic T-shirts the racers wore. Any chance there is one in that white box of yours?" He didn't even have a photo or newspaper clipping of the sporting event, but his description of that day was told in the kind of detail that could have come out of the Vail Trail newspaper.

"I could not afford a good bike and would not attempt the event with any of the beat-up bikes my friends owned, so I did the next best thing. I knew a retired pro-bike racer, Caesar Moretti, who owned a ski shop in the village where he built, sold and rented bicycles in the summer. I approached him with the challenge to train me for the preliminaries using one of his professional road bikes."

"Tell me more about this bike racer, and if you had any luck getting a bike to use in the race."

"I recall that Caesar was a tall, thin man in his forties with a chiseled face who hailed from Italy. As I said before, there wasn't a lot, even for a shop owner, to do in the summer in Vail. He thought this was a fine idea, and he thought the word of mouth advertising that was the norm in those days might place the name of his shop in the public eye."

Lou goes on to explain how he and Caesar worked together for a few weeks. I drift off a bit and am imagining Lou in a Celestial Seasonings jersey with the logo of Caesar's bike shop silk screened on the back as he approaches the start of the ten-lap race with pride and a bit of cockiness. Lou sets me straight that there were no jerseys, not even T-shirts, which he could remember for this test run for the racecourse.

Lou had a lot of respect for Caesar and his past history as a bike racer, but Lou's ego got the best of him. Instead of following the instructions of his coach to hold back at the start, Lou took the lead and tried his best to remain there. Lou's competitive drive would not let him be anywhere but in the front of the pack from the get-go. He was in the lead until the last two laps when his energy was totally depleted and the other racers began to sprint and overtook my Polish-American athlete.

"Wow! I see what your coach meant by not taking the lead at the start of the race. Did you ever compete in the Celestial Seasonings races in Vail the following years? "

"Hell no, Moe, I was not that strong of a racer or climber to be competing against the world's best. I kept my eyes on much weaker targets."

He handed me a photo and said, "Take a look at this one of me and the bike I had built by one of the shops in the village the year I moved to Aspen. I actually paid $1,000 for it, which was quite a hefty price to pay for a recreational bicycle in the early 70s."

"Lou, what was so special about this bluish-purple bicycle that it cost $1,000?"

"The bike was a beauty. It was a Gueciotti made in Italy and was one of the lightest- weight frames you could purchase at that time. I had learned from Caesar about the importance of having a bicycle that was specifically geared to your skills and needs. I let the shop that was building the bike for me know that I would be using it primarily to ride up and down mountain passes and that I was not that strong a climber. There was no such thing on the market as a mountain bike in those days, so my riding took place on the winding roads leading in and out of Aspen."

"Did your interest in bike racing escalate or did you have other plans for that gorgeous piece of equipment?"

"At first the bike was used totally for relaxation and entertainment. Even when my life was centered on partying until the wee hours, I always had the motivation to get up on many a crisp Colorado morning and take off on my bike for a ride out to Maroon Bells, or Independence Pass. The breathtaking scenery of tall snow-covered mountain peaks, pencil-thin aspen trees with leaves quivering in the wind and a palate of color from the wildflowers that bloom during the short summer season still stay in my memory. Riding the back roads to places you go to be, rather than to be seen, was what was rejuvenating to me in those days.

Remember that enduring-sameness that was the norm in ski towns in the summer of the `70s? We had to create our own entertainment because there was no signal for television or radio in those days in the high country and only a weekly newspaper to connect us with the outside world."

"Do I hear a hint of longing in your voice, Lou?"

"To tell you the truth, Moe, that is the thing I miss the most about living in Mexico; riding my bike on roads that twist and turn with a photo-op around every corner."

Lou rummages through the box for awhile, stopping to glance at the photos and newspaper clippings until he finds what he is looking for. His eyes are animated as he glances at the photo. I get the feeling there is going to be a great story to go with this one. "Moe, you're going to love this."

He passes the photo tenderly over to me and I exclaim, "For heaven's sake, why are you carrying your bicycle on your back?"

"It all started at the end of a long day at the Aspen Mine Company where I worked as general manager of the restaurant. One of the young, boastful waiters did not believe that I, an older gentleman of thirty, could keep up with the younger crowd on a bike ride. We continued to one-up each other as we told stories of our conquests on the mountain roads surrounding Aspen. We eventually made a $1,000 wager to race on our bikes to the top of Maroon Bells campground from Aspen and back again. We also included a no-show agreement of $250, if either of us decided to withdraw from the race."

"Lou, I recall that Maroon Bells was quite a distance from the town of Aspen."

"Well, it was only twelve miles from town and, although uphill all the way; it was a pretty easy twenty-four-mile road ride."

"Funny that you should mention Maroon Bells, I actually have a photo of myself from a 1970 road trip with my girl friends taken in front of that very lake with the two, towering peaks reflected in the glassy surface of the water."

"I'd love to see that one," Lou says with a smile. "I am not surprised. I have heard that the Maroon Bells, in the White River National Forest, is the most photographed peak in all of North America."

"That's interesting. What else do you know about those two peaks in the Elk Mountains?"

"Well they are both over 14,000 feet high, and are composed of sedimentary mudstone which has a tendency to flake and slide off the side of the mountain. When I was living in Aspen, several climbers died in a climbing accident on the mountain so it was nicknamed, "The Deadly Bells." That's enough geology for today Moe; now back to the story.'

"As I mentioned before, it was only twenty-four miles. I knew I needed an edge, something that could separate the men from the boys, so I proposed that once we reach Maroon Bells, we then run down carrying our bikes. Bob, being younger, felt he could outride and outrun his boss, so the bet was on."

"The race was set for a Monday. On the previous Friday I decided to do a pretest on my own. The photo was actually taken by Janet, one of my good friends who had come along that afternoon for moral support."

"Is that the same Janet we spent a few holidays with in our early dating days?"

"Yes, she and I go way back."

We both glance at the photo, and Lou continues. "As you can see, it was not one of those cobalt-blue Colorado days; instead the clouds cast long shadows on the cliffs above me. I did make it to the bottom and learned that I needed to make a few adjustments in the backpack-style harness I had fashioned to carry the bike. I added some padding to the crossbar and devised a new way to carry the bike on my shoulder by bracing it against my neck. I know it sounds a little crazy, but it actually worked and I made it to the bottom where Janet was waiting with her camera to snap a photo. The day of the race arrived and Bob showed up at the starting point without his bike and handed me $250 to forfeit the race. He had heard about my trial run and decided I was no match for him."

I sit for a few minutes with the photo in my hand. Lou, sitting across from me with laughter rising hysterically in his throat, lets me know that the funniest part was the comments the hikers he passed along the way made as he came running down the mountain road carrying his bicycle on the day of the training run.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from SHIFTING GEARSby MARI PINTKOWSKI Copyright © 2011 by Mari Pintkowski. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: iUniverse
• Publication date: 2011
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1462017355
• ISBN 13: 9781462017355
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 232