The Buddha and the Bee: Biking through
America's Forgotten Roadways on a Journey of Discovery
by Cory Mortensen
BLURB:
Life-Changing
Journey...
...But this is NOT a
typical blah-blah-blah memoir
Planning is for
sissies. A solo bike ride across the country will be filled with sunshine,
lollipops, rainbows, and 80 degree temps every day, right? Not so much. The
Great Plains, Rocky Mountains, an alkaline desert, and the Sierra Nevadas lay
miles and days ahead. Disappointment with unrealized potential, and the thirst
for what’s next drew farther away in the rotating wide-angle shockproof convex
rear-view mirror.
"I will ride my
bike down a never-ending ribbon of asphalt wearing a backpack."
Cory Mortensen began
his bike ride across the United States from Chaska, Minnesota, to Truckee,
California, without a route, a timeline, or proper equipment. Along the way, he
gained more than technical skills required for a ride that would test every
fiber of his physical being and mental toughness. Ride along as he meets
“unusual” characters, dangerous animals, and sweet little old ladies with a
serious vendetta for strangers in their town.
Humor ■ Insight ■
Adventure ■ Gratitude ■ Peace
From long stretches of
road ending in a vanishing point at the distant horizon, to stunning vistas,
terrifying close calls, grueling conditions, failed equipment, and joyous
milestones he stayed the course and gained an appreciation for the beauty of
the land, the genius of engineering and marvel of nature.
Excerpt
Three:
DAY TWENTY-FOUR
It seemed as if I was the only person on this road. I saw no
cars, no trucks. I didn’t even see an airplane or contrail. The human race
could have been completely wiped out, and I wouldn’t know it, just like I
didn’t know what was going on back east a few days ago. As far as I knew, it
was just me and the clerk at the Maybell General Store. My situation could be
worse. Juliane Koepcke was seventeen years old when, on Dec 24, 1971, the
Lockheed Electra OB-R-941 commercial airliner the she was a passenger on was
struck by light- ning. The plane immediately broke up in the air. Still
strapped to her seat, she fell two miles into the jungle. She survived the
fall, with a broken collarbone, a gash on her arm that would eventually become
infested with worms, and her right eye swollen shut. She spent ten days alone
in the Amazonian rainforest, following a stream, wading through knee-deep
water, until eventually she came across a group of fishermen. After two weeks
spent recovering, she led a search party back into the jungle to locate the
crash, ultimately finding her mother’s body.
And here I thought I was having a bad day.
Fighting the headwind, I occasionally took time to stop and
stare at the road as it vanished into the horizon. I had been biking for forty
minutes and gone only five miles.
I hoped to see a town, a house, a billboard—anything that
showed signs of human life—but it was just me and the road and a rather large
coyote.
“Coyote?!”
A coyote stood across the road, looking directly at me.
I had some important questions. What was I supposed to do
when I came across a coyote? Were they aggressive? Did they attack humans? Were
they fast? Could I out-pedal him? Not with this headwind. He could catch me
without even having to run.
In the lore of Indigenous Americans, the coyote was many
things. To some tribes, it was a hero who created, taught, and helped humans;
to others, a warning of negative behaviors like greed and arrogance; still
others looked at the coyote as a trickster who lacked wisdom—he got into lots
of trouble, but was clever enough to get out of it.
This part of North America was home to the Snake Indians.
The Snake Indians were made up of the Northern Paiute, Bannock, and Shoshone.
The Bannock believed the coyote came to help and did good deeds for the people.
I looked west and so did the coyote. I looked back at the
coyote, he back at me, and then he looked west again and bobbed his head, as if
to say, “Let’s go.”
I started pedaling. The headwind continued; my coyote com-
panion making everything a bit surreal. He was now part of my journey. I put
off any thoughts of him being an adversary. He was helping me get through the
day.
“You live around here?” I asked the coyote. The coyote gave
no answer.
“You have family? Wife? Kids?” Still no answer.
“Do you know if there is a good restaurant in Dinosaur? I’m
really hungry.”
Nothing. He could only be of so much help, I guess.
We moved together along Victory Highway, fighting the wind.
Over the next few miles, I watched him as he pranced over
the mounds along the highway. He’d stop and wait for me when he got too far
ahead, then would continue once I caught up. I was no longer thinking about the
wind or the heat or the bumpy road. I thought about the people who had lived
along the Yampa River. Ruins of the Fremont people dated back as far as 1500
BC. Their petroglyphs told their stories. The Snake, Ute, and Navajo came after
the Fremont and made the land their new home.
Later came the cowboys. Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch,
Matt Warner, and Isom Dart all traveled this route when it was just a dusty
horse trail, known as the Outlaw Trail.
And as I rode along with my coyote and wistful thoughts,
there it was: the all too familiar sound of ninety-five pounds-per-square- inch
of air leaving my rear tyre.
The coyote heard it, too. Perhaps the sound startled him,
per- haps it let him know dinner was ready. I looked down at my tyre and then
at him. His body was turned, now facing me. I felt like perhaps our
relationship had changed without my input. I thought back to lunch with my dad,
when he asked if I was bringing a gun for protection. Then I looked at my flat
tyre.
I took the pack off the bike, flipped the bike upside down
to remove the rear wheel, and started removing the tyre and replacing the tube,
as fast as I could. I looked up to see what the coyote was doing, but he was
gone, vanished. I was relieved but also sad, as I was once again alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Cory Mortensen
has ridden his collection of bicycles over a million miles of asphalt, dirt,
mud, and backroads. In addition to the cross-country journey detailed in this
book, he has traveled to over fifty-five countries, cycled from Minneapolis to
Colorado solo to raise money for children born with congenital heart defects.
He’s completed sixteen marathons on five continents, and survived three days of
running with the bulls in Spain.
Cory is a
certified Advanced PADI diver, and has enjoyed taking in life under the waves
in locations all over the world. In 2003, he took time off from roaming, and
accidentally started and built a company which he sold in 2013. That same year
he married his best friend and explored the state of Texas for two years. The
couple sold everything they owned, jumped on a plane to Ecuador and
volunteered, trekked, and explored South America for sixteen months before
returning to Phoenix, Arizona, where he works as a consultant and is soon to be
a bestselling author.
The Buddha and
the Bee is his first memoir in which he shares how a two month leave of absence
redefined his life’s trajectory of sitting behind a desk and his decision to
break society’s chains so he could live life on his terms.
Website:
www.TheBuddhaAndTheBee.com
Twitter:www.twitter.com/BuddhaAndTheBee
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/CoryMortensenAuthor
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/CoryMortensenAuthor/
Buy the book links
Amazon Hardcover:
https://www.amazon.com/Buddha-Bee-Cory-Mortensen/dp/1735498114
Paperback:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1735498122
Kindle:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08FLLBBP9
Indiebound Hardcover:
https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781735498119
Paperback:
https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781735498126
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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