You don’t get the adventure you signed up for but rather the adventure that happens

I tell folks that you don’t get the adventure you signed up for but rather the adventure that happens.

The Path of Totality bicycle expedition across Iceland is complete. And over the next weeks I will unpack some of the stories.

Turned out I wasn't simply another rider who happened to organize the trip. I simply did not appreciate beforehand that I would carry a second expedition in my head throughout: weather, rivers, routes, changing conditions, logistics, differences in rider experience and sensibility, judgment calls, and the consequences if I got one of those judgments wrong.

Most nights I went to bed around 8:30 and was up by 4:00 reviewing the day's route. I did it in the morning because conditions in Iceland can change overnight. Rivers rise. Weather changes. What seemed reasonable the night before may not be reasonable in the morning.

Interestingly, I often felt a kind of distance from the actual riding that I haven't experienced on other expeditions. I think that was simply the consequence of numbers and responsibility.

And my mind hasn't quite figured out that we're done. I'm still reviewing maps and routes in my sleep.

Another element was working with a rider who largely rode independently of the Path of Totality team, reconnecting with us at different points along the route. That independence was entirely workable as a way of riding - and as the launch expert and atmospheric scientist he was essential - but it taught me something I hadn't fully appreciated beforehand. An expedition can accommodate different ways of traveling, but doing so changes the operating rhythm. I still needed to understand where everyone was, when we would reconnect, and how individual plans intersected with the larger route and logistics.

I came away recognizing a distinction between individuals pursuing parallel adventures and a group moving with a shared operating rhythm. My attention necessarily remained on that shared rhythm.

By the way: 4 nights in huts, 1 in a hotel, 2 in cabins, 1 in a convent, and 13 nights in my big, beautiful, red Hilleberg Unna tent!

One of the things I'm proudest of was watching riders embrace the self-contained ethos of the expedition. About a trip like this someone will always ask, “Did you carry your gear?” Self-contained travel remained the ethos and original design of the expedition. Riders departed camps and huts carrying their tents, sleeping bags, clothing, tools, food, and equipment needed to complete the day and spend an unexpected night in the field. Carrying that gear was not inconsequential. Depending on climbing and wind, it can add 30% to 60% to the required effort.

I'm especially grateful for getting to know Mark.

The support truck was not there to make the ride possible. Self-reliance is not the absence of support; it is the ability to succeed without depending on it. There is no contradiction between a commitment to self-contained travel and recognizing that this expedition could not realistically have happened without Mark.

Given the wilderness and the number of people involved, the truck wasn't simply a convenience. It became part of the infrastructure of the expedition. On two days I rode with Mark rather than riding the bike because we needed to scout what was ahead and determine whether the route was safe - in one instance because of a warning from ICE-SAR, another because of 50+ mph winds, and yet another because of rain and a river that could not be crossed. But it got figured out before backtracking was required.

The next ride will be three or four people at most.

Gary, John and I have logged a lot of miles together. And of course, I think of Woody and Judd. Experience, logistics, sensibility, instinct are priorities. Flow. Very little needs to be explained. No support vehicle. Highly nimble. A well-honed sense of self-containment and a robust instinct for the common purpose of the day.

And the next one will be considerably shorter.

Thirty-six days away from my family was hard. Perhaps the good thing about all the figuring, planning and problem solving was that I was always in "game on" mode. There was always something immediately in front of me requiring attention.

Onward and upward. Stories will follow.