BALCONY PEOPLE

Author Joyce Landorf once described balcony people as behind the scenes people, people unseen yet truly responsible for any successful endeavor.  This 2014 Polar Cycling Expedition has identified five balcony people that have resulted in a successful expedition that began on June 16th and ending on August 27th.  This tour began on June 16th in a Billings to Missoula run, then a flight up to Deadhorse, Alaska--next to the frigid Arctic Ocean and ending on August 27th in Missoula, Montana.  

BALCONY PERSON:  DIXIE THOMAS HALL

Dixie has been my Rock of Gibraltar through all of the tour. She served as postal clerk--sending food supplies to remote parts of Alaska for later pickup by our team, she never failed to include a note of encouragement with each shipment. 

  

BALCONY PERSON:  RICK STILES

I owe the most gratitude to Rick.  Nine months prior to our tour, Rick meticulously researched the Dalton Road in northern Alaska, the best routes through the Yukon, logged up daily mileages and ending points that offered the best amenities possible.  Although he was not able to fully enjoy his own careful planning, without it, the tour would have ended in Fairbanks.  Thanks, Rick for your unflagging support and encouragement all the way to the end.  We are a team!

BALCONY PERSON:  MARK COLE

Forty years ago I was in a Christian rock band doing a tour in Asia when one day a young saxophonist walked into our team, Mark Cole.  His passion for music and his faith in God helped our team endure amazing setbacks and adversity. So here we are--hadn't seen each other for 40 years!--bicycling together for three days in Alberta, Mark's home area.  We laughed, caught up, reminisced, and discussed the future. What a great time to have Mark's encouragement toward the end of my journey.  

BALCONY PERSON:  MENNO DEKHUYZEN

When Rick, after a difficult decision, needed to return home and left from Fairbanks, it was almost as if God still wanted the tour to continue.   Another bicyclist we'd met in Cold Foot again connected with us in Fairbanks and there we decided to tour together.  So Menno--another recumbentist--and I began the long descent through Alaska, the Yukon Territory, and down into British Columbia before parting ways.  Menno, a Netherlander, headed west for Prince Rupert and I headed east for Prince George.  Menno brouth to the table companionship, great positive energy, Netherlander humor, and excellent conversation.  Not sure I could have continued alone; Menno helped me through the middle of the tour.     

BALCONY PERSON: JIM LEWIS

Jim first showed up at a party in Billings--a recumbent afficionado--and showed a great interest in our tour.  Over the weeks, Jim would scamper ahead through Google Earth and plot out what was ahead of us--amenities, climb ratios, and other pertinent information. Often I was well-prepared because of Jim's leg work.  Thanks, Jim.

So my deep gratitude goes to the TEAM, the balcony people who made it impossible for our tour to fail through their unsung, generously offered help.

Thanks, Dixie, Mark, Rick, Menno, and Jim!

ALL I REALLY NEEDED TO KNOW I LEARNED FROM A MOUNTAIN

I had heard about Hungry Mountain at least three hundred kilometers before I ever encountered it.  "Quite a hill!  Don't be afraid to walk your bike up it--it's pretty long and HIGH!" Shortly outside of Houston, BC we were formally introduced. Hungry Mountain was a lot taller than I had imagined.  I wondered how many cyclists it had eaten and spit out.  

Nevertheless, that mountain with its upwardly undulating peaks became a great teacher for this skinny preacher. Here's what what I learned about climbing and life during the hour Hungry Mountain and I conversed:

• DON'T PANIC.  The first thing we do when we first see a daunting challenge is to panic.  Yikes!  I can't do this, there's no way.  I'm outta here!  But don't take the easy flight exit out of formidable obstacles.  Don't run! Remember what Winston Churchill said that Barnes and Noble has recycled:  "Be calm and carry on."

• KEEP YOUR FOCUS ON THE LARGER GOAL.  All around me, a flurry of activity swirled--big logging trucks flying by within inches of my bike, construction signs that blocked my forward advance, debris on the road, and noise levels that unnerved me.  So easy to get distracted by the energy and "noise" around us that we can lose focus on the larger goal.  So I forced myself to fix my focus on the top of the five mile mountain.  I kept everything else in my periphery so I could dodge or duck if I needed to, but I kept focused on the ultimate goal--getting on top of that mountain.

• LISTEN TO YOUR BODY.  Menno and Rick are good at listening internally.  They will stop mid-mountain climb to get their heart rate back down and catch their breath. So I've learned from them to listen to my body.  For example, if you hear a crackling sound, that's your knee cap exploding or that snap and ping sound may be your cartilege and tendons separating. One translation of a verse from Psalm 139 says, "the Lord knows where we need to stop and rest."  I really believe that.

• BE A SELF-COACH.  Keep telling yourself to be calm and carry on.  Keep speaking hope into your consciousness as you scale your mountain or obstacle.  Confession and encouragement are amazing tools when the going gets touch.  So congratulate yourself for every gain you make.

• ENVISION YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENT. See yourself cresting the summit. Imagine the exhileration that comes with great accomplishments.  See a friend, a wife, a husband, a sibling standing on top, cheering you on. That's what the writer of Hebrews did to encourage the beleaguered Christians of his day--"seeing you're surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses let us run the race set before us" (Hebrews 12:1).  

Eventually I scaled Hungry Mountain and lived to tell about it!  You can to when you face your own hungry mountains by refusing to panic, keeping your focus, listening to your body, being your own coach, and imagining your achievement.

All of our gear had been crammed into a 12x15 cabin that held two exhausted cyclists and the world's smallest bathroom. We were in Iskut, British Columbia.  Not far out of the campground we came upon a rickety assemblage of ramshackle buildings on a knoll off to our right.  

Anyone here? we yelled, trying every door of the main building.  Silence.  Our final attempt was an understated white plywood door that opened into a kitchen with a few tables scattered about.  A few early morning types were shuffling around, coffee splashing with every step.  

Coffee? I grunted as the server came to us.  Now both eyes open and beginning to thaw from the outside chill, we got engaged with the folks clustered around the tables.  Steve was from Australia.  Marlene and Roger were from Hazelton, BC, and the grandkid from Alaska.  "Where you from, eh?"  Oh, I'm from Montana, and this here's Menno--he's from The Netherlands.  (Don't say, Holland, I whispered, Holland is just a province.)  So we told our story for the one-hundreth and thirty-fifth time to our breakfast friends.  

"Where you headed to, eh?"  Again, the usual litany.  Menno would be going right at the terminus to Prince Rupert and I would be going wrong, as Menno liked to put it, to Prince George.  Addressing me, Marlene announced, "Well, you'll be coming right by our fish shop, and when you come, we're going to treat you to one of our haddock lunches."  Roger, the chief cook, said nothing, just smiled and knodded approvingly.  We agreed on Friday, noon.

Unfortunately, I didn't make it into New Hazelton until Saturday.  Ergo, no haddock.  No friends to greet.  Sunday came, and I'm was at the farmer's market end of town.  "That'll be $4.00," the guy says as I pay and stuff my wild dried mushrooms into my bike saddlebag  Suddenly, this farmer guy jumps up, pulls off his overalls, and steps out with black pants ready to go to church. Can I go with you? Startled that any stranger would want to go with him to his Pentecostal church, we jumped in his car and enjoyed church--the rich, dark roast kind of worship that moves you deep in the soul.

After worship, Dean brought me back to the farmer's market where I'd left my bike with Flo, Dean's mushroom-selling wife. Pedaling out of the market I spied it!  Yes!  There was the haddock people selling fried fish as if it were ice cream. "Hey, Thomas, we been waiting for you.  We've got a haddock lunch for you, remember?"  I explained my delay in getting to their town at the right time.  Then told them about going to a "Pentecostal" church that morning.  "Why that's the church we go to," Roger crowed.  "Ya meet Pastor Jerry? Isn't he something else?"

So there you have it.  Go to church and let God bring the haddock to you.      

[First picture:  Marlene and Roger; Second picture: Pentecostal Dean]

MR. HALOGEN

Kathy's Kitchen Restaurnt, Watson Lake, Yukon Territory.  We walked in after a grueling downpour, creating tiny lakes wherever we walked.  What a cross-section of travelers and culture we had joined. Sitting around a table in the back were the local youth, high-spirited and jocular.  Next to them a table of passers-through from California.  Nearer to us a sat six Amish gals from Indiana being driven around the Yukon by Mennonite drivers and wishing they were back home. 

But behind me was a little Korean man from northern California about my age traveling the country by himself.  I happened to catch Kim Chong just before the first forkful.  His head was bowed and eyes shut.  "Oh, are you a Christian?" I asked him when he had finished.  He enthusiastically and cheerfully acknowledged his faith and spoke glowingly of his church, their mission work in Central Americaand his personal mission work.

Have you ever encountered people who can never seem to NOT smile?  I don't think Kim could not smile even if you were peeling his fingernails off.  He just beamed.  If he'd been a light bulb, he would have been a halogen--brilliant and bright.  I introduced myself and we both went back to eating.  Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.  "Mr. Tom?  I am supposed to give you this," he announced with his effusive smile, rolling his eyes up to a higher power as he thumped a Canadian five dollar bill into my palm.  I started to resist until I realized that God had been brought into the drama.  This was all the more generous when I later learned upon inquiry that Mr. Halogen slept in his van to save  money on his journey.

The meal was ended and I once more went to Kim and gave him a shoulder hug, again, thanking him for his mission offering to Mosaic.  Remembering that I was a pastor, Mr. Halogen did the unthinkable:  "Mr. Pastor Tom, would you pray for me?"  

"Like, right now, here in the restaurant?"  I sputtered.  Kim Chong did not answer, for he was already in that 'every head bowed and every eye closed' mode.  So right there, amidst passing servers, conversation, and your cheatin' heart, I prayed for brother Kim, his family, his ministry, and church.

Next morning, I was in the sign park forest, taking pictures when I spotted him--Mr. Halogen.  Seeing me, he grinned and smiled and bowed and stood beside me wanting Menno to catch this magical moment on film for his wife.  As we parted company with smiles and bows and waves, he did it again.

"Mr. Tom Pastor, would you pray for me?"  I didn't even have time to say no.  Kim had dropped on his knees--right there in the dirt--and guided my hands upon his head as if he wanted me to ordain him to the United Methodist ministry.  

Can you imagine how humbling that is?  The guy probably starts his day praying at 4 am.   Mr. Kim Chong is a halogen, so bright, joyful, wholesome.  He emanates the joy of the Spirit and the love of God.  So in front of God, passersby, and 77,000 signs, I prayed for Kim, his family, his ministry, his church--again.

Upon reflection, being with Kim Chong for those few minutes has impacted me.  I have thought about his undeniable joy, his childlike faith, his unselfish, unproud life and then think about how I'm doing in the halogen business.  I still see his halogen presence energizing everyone around him.  And that encourages me to keep returning to the Source of all joy and hope and love.  I just hope that I can have such an impact on others that he's had on me.  

AMBULATORY COMMUNITY

I am amazed at the variety of people making their way across the vast landscape of the great Northwest.  

"BIKER!" Menno had yelled behind to me.  Hmmm, I assessed, incoming at about three hundred yards; it's a mountain bike, medium load, male cyclist.  (When you're pumping pedals for eight hours a day with little human interaction, a single soul approaching from the opposite side of the road approaches Christmas morning excitement.) 

"Where'd you come from?" I asked as he braked to a stop on our side of the road.  Dustin, it turns out, had begun his journey from just south of Minot, North Dakota and was concluding his adventure in Palmer (near Wasilla), Alaska.  

"So why the long trek," I queried. "Well, I just graduated and thought I'd celebrate by biking to Palmer."  Dustin had just earned his Batchelor of Science degree in Paramedics and was hoping to see some back-of-the-ambulance action in Palmer before returning to North Dakota.

Stopping for lunch in Jake's Corner, another cyclist approached us.  Didn't quite catch the name since he spoke better French than English.  But "Lemioux" was a sight.  He wore a disarming smile over his gaunt face and straggly beard and head.  His clothes were worn and weary; his shoes obliterated by layers of duct tape.  Lemioux had been on the road for two years going thither and hither.  His next hither, he thought would be Asia.  

We clicked our phone cameras at one another and prepared to push on.  Our cheerful tattered traveler became even more cheery with the two candy bars Menno gifted him with. So we left another passerby among the thousands that meander on foot, cart, thumb, bike, and wild hog bikes throughout the great Northwest.

CMON, MAKE A MISTAKE!

In most of our lives, successes and failures are as tangled as fishing line after a bad cast.  Or, to put it in another way, failure often births success followed by failure and success. That's why resumes are patently so unreliable.  We take all of our "successes," delete all the miscues, dips, firings, let-gos, and bad choices; then we present our best, but unreal life, to a prospective employer.  

Why don't we rather view our life from both our failures and successes?  I think it because the idea has been ingrained from birth: don't make mistakes.  Avoid mistakes at all costs.    

In the end, winning and losing, success and failure isn't what our life is about.  It's all about intensity and passion. It's living the very fullest, brimming-over life that God offers you.  It's living into Jesus' claim, I have come so you can have overflowing, abundant life.  That's the way I want to live my life.  That's the way I want to leave this life.  Full.  Overflowing.  Passionate.  Intense.  

I recently ran across this thought:  "Pursuing victory and avoiding defeat is not what the highest achievers are about. They're hunting for bigger game."  Are you hunting for bigger game?  Are you risk-hungry or dare-starved?  If so, you may want to talk to the One who is the source of that stuff!
  

MAKE LIFE INTERESTING.  MAKE MISTAKES!

So I've been able to continue the tour from the Arctic to Missoula, Montana, thanks to the quick thinking of one and the willingness and availability of the other.  When Rick felt he would need to leave the tour, he had already befriended a cyclist who had flown in from the Netherlands. 

Menno Dekhuyzen, is a husband and father from Ede, The Netherlands.  He is in my opinion a semi-professional long-distance cyclist, who, six years earlier, flew to the US to pedal from coast to coast on a route called "The TransAm."  

Menno proclaims a strong positive, can-do attitude.  Not a bad attitude to have when most of your tour will be climbing up and down mountains.  But no matter how high the mountain that overshadows us, my colleague is quick to say, "But we can climb it,"  or, "we've climbed higher mountains."  And when the rain dumps on us non-stop, Menno shrugs his shoulder and sighs, "Oh well, it will cool us off."  

By stock and trade, Menno is a physician's assistant and works in what he calls "the surgery theatre."  He has a deep passion for human life, and offering people care--especially when they are facing death.  He's green and when we're taking a break along the way, he'll pick up any debris and stick it on his bike for the trash can when we again come into civilization.

So I want to welcome Menno to the team.  It is an honor and pleasure to try and keep pace with such a cyclist.  If you want to follow Menno's blog, please check it out:

www.mennodekhuyzen.reislogger.nl
EMAIL: mennosolarquest@gmail.com