July 10: New Best Friends with Bikers
As I sit here on the top deck of the Smyril Ferry taking me and the Adventure Baby to Denmark for the next segment of our summer trip, I am reflecting on how grateful I am for friends both old and new. It was so inspiring to meet several other motorcyclists leaving the Faroe Islands yesterday, to share camaraderie with them, and to continue some of those conversations today. Today has also been a day of rest and relaxation onboard.
When I made my way towards the ferry check in gate last night, I considered how privileged I was to have experienced so many of the wonders of Iceland and the Faroe Islands, both breathtaking in their grandeur, majesty, and fierceness. I also reflected that the riding conditions I have faced over the last twenty days have been some of my most difficult ever. Was it just me, I wondered, or did other bikers feel the same way about the unique challenges of riding in these remote regions?
It didn’t take long for my question to be answered. As I pulled up to the motorcycle loading area, I was greeted with a friendly smile by Bernard, another biker I met in Iceland a few days earlier. He began sharing an animated description of the harrowing aspects of a tunnel we had both passed through on our way to the little village of Vidareidi in the Faroes.
As he energetically elaborated on the oil spots on the raised middle portion of the lane, the sloped sides of the lane leading down to no shoulder, the complete absence of any light in the long dark passageway, and the presence of cars barreling down on him from behind, I found myself nodding “yes, yes, and yes!” Then when he said his bike slid out from underneath him and he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it, I felt a huge sense of relief come over me. It was somehow comforting to know that this tall, burly biker had encountered the same situation as me and felt similarly challenged.
Shortly afterwards, Tim and Denise, two bikers I had also met in Seydisfjordur, joined our conversation, and began describing the trials of riding through the wind in Iceland. Tim demonstrated how he had positioned himself on his bike, raising one hand towards the sky and lowering the other towards the ground, mimicking slanting his bike precariously in a desperate attempt to stay upright in the fierce Iceland gusts. He and his wife recounted they weren’t sure they would survive the ride. I looked at his huge bike all loaded down and then at my much smaller bike and realized it made all the sense in the world that I had asked myself the same question.
Today while on the ferry I had the pleasure of learning more about Bernard, Tim, and Denise and meeting some other bikers as well while relaxing in some of the wonderful common areas of the ship. This afternoon while working on my blog in the bar lounge, a sweet elderly lady approached me, put her hand on my arm and said, “my husband is admiring you.” We both laughed, she shared how pleased they both were to see me traveling on my own by bike, and he described the three motorcycles he has in his garage. What a great day to be a biker.
It's not just bikers I am grateful for though. While working at a table in the same area earlier, I took the time to write notes to each of my children, my three-person support crew back home, my mom, and my best friend. Having the opportunity to take such an epic journey so soon after discovering my three brain tumors, I am acutely aware of the value of loved ones in our lives and the importance of sharing with them how much we appreciate them.
