July 13 Lofoten Islands Norway

 I am leaving the island of Lofoten.

It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. It was sort of a mixture of Tahiti/French Polynesia/Kawaii,

except not as crowded, better cycling, and not hot. Sort of like Alaska, but with no animals that want to eat you.

 it’s also a huge tourist destination with Campervans that clog the roads . I fooled my internal clock and pretended I was going to another time zone and switched my riding schedule to riding at night and sleeping during the day. It never gets dark so what’s the difference? That works great. I had the road to myself.

It is a spiritual experience watching the sun come down to the horizon at 12 at night and then just go back up again. It never sets. It just hovers, as contemplating its next move and then deciding to keep on shining.

I haven’t been able to find Wi-Fi and I don’t have enough cell service to upload photos and videos so I can do those when I get back to Wi-Fi.

Bottom line is that I’m really happy and I’m very relaxed.

This this simplicity of riding all day and having everything I need on the back of my bike, suits me.

As I said for my quotation for the Edgemont high school yearbook, “I love my bike! Where else would I be?”

July 11 Bodo Norway

 In between the sticky-course and the not-so-sticky course of my eight-course hotel breakfast, I went to the WC to wash strawberry jam off my fingers. Look what was there!!!!!! Did I manifest this??????

I know I asked for Q-tips, but if requests are being taken, may I please have a fit man in his early 50s, loves to bike and ski, (good at both), retired and therefore has time to play?

And peace in Israel?

And a cotton t-shirt that will still keep me warm when wet?

(Do you think the t-shirt is too much? Just ask for the man and peace?)

July 9 Rodo Norway

 Woke up this morning at 5 o’clock and had tent down and all gear packed by 5:38 AM. I needed to make a 7:20 ferry which was 26 km away, with two tunnels and one climb. Seemed pretty doable. Then I realized, when I did my two minute bike check (thank you Bobbi Stoll) that I had no rear break and the barrel adjustment was already maxed. I very cleverly fixed it. Thank you, Will!!!!

(oh yes, and I made the ferry and I crossed the Arctic Circle. I suppose I should have led with the Arctic Circle thing.)

July 7 Sandnessjoen Norway

 The Doctor of Divinty continues to take your questions:

#4 Do you get lonely?

Yes, I get lonely. But is it the overwhelming emotion of this trip? No. Joy is.

Loneliness is part of life. We crave connection and like to be part of something larger than ourselves. That is why it feels so good to sing together in community, whether it’s at a Shabbat service or a Taylor Swift concert.

The first moment that I was aware of feeling lonely on this trip came on day 14 of being away from home, which was day 10 of biking. That’s pretty far into the trip!

It was the end of the day and as I turned into the campground, I was disappointed that there were no other cyclists there. I imagined what fun it would be to make dinner with other people and then sit around and talk.

It felt like a good night for Stone Soup; you know the story, right? Three travelers arrive in a village with nothing but three stones and a large pot. They inspire the villagers to contribute - potatoes, parsnips, noodles, bok choy and so on.

When the soup is done, “the carrots having made the broth especially sweet,” the villagers sit around and share an amazing meal that they made together. Community. Connection.

It felt like a perfect moment, for a night from Amy’s bike trips, when Eric cooks dinner and Tate assists, and we eat pasta and drink wine, and stay up late playing Hearts.

But no one was at this quiet campground in Norway, and so I set up my tent, took a shower, made my ramen with carrots from my Bicycle Banana Holder (patent pending), went to sleep, woke up, and got back to riding, and the lonely feeling had passed. Joy returned.

I will tell you when I have felt a deep loneliness, an abiding loneliness, that did not pass as quickly.

When I was married, I was lonely. That loneliness was worse, because I didn’t expect it. I thought marriage would shield me from loneliness.

Another painful loneliness often hits me in my house in Boulder. I created my home thinking it would be an oasis I would share with my children and it didn’t work out that way.

But when I’m in Utah for the winter, or on a bike trip in Norway, my kids are not supposed to be there, and so I don’t feel their absence as strongly.

Would I rather be doing this bike trip with someone else? Sure! Swipe right! Please forward your suggestions! I would love to find an adventure partner who likes to do the same activities I do and likes the same style of trip.

How wonderful it would be to share this amazing adventure with another person, to marvel together in awe of the incredible vistas, laugh at the funny road signs, help each other up the steep hills in the rain, and fly together down the long winding hills down to the fjord.

But I am not going to wait to find someone who likes to do this kind of adventure. If I wait, I might never get to ride.

So you ask if I am lonely out here:

I have moments of loneliness, but life has moments of loneliness.

And out here, the loneliness is less painful than it is at home.

My overriding emotion on this trip is joy.

July 4 Trondheim Norway

 Pancakes, Priorities, and the Passage of Time

Part two. FAQ:

What does the Doctor of Divinity think about while cycling?

I recently attended a retirement conference that was put on by my rabbinic pension provider. I learned that I am approaching my second middle age. I was startled to learn that I have almost completed my first middle age, and therefore was very relieved to hear that a second one will be forthcoming.

As I approach 60, I get to remake three major decisions that I made in my 30s:

Where do I want to live? Who do I want to share my life with?

How do I want to spend my time?

I’m excited to remake these choices. It’s not that I made bad decisions the first time; I made quite good choices in all three of those areas. But I’m ready to choose again, for this new time in my life.

As I sit on my bike, and watch the miles go by, and think about all the bike touring I did in my teens, (mostly with Bill Swersey’s red, hand-me-down panniers and Peter Vilmos’ anorak raincoat) I am acutely aware of the passage of time.

I am now able to see my life as a book of connected chapters, rather than one random event following the next. That probably makes more sense to people who are older than me than people who are younger than me. But I’m starting to see the arc of my life.

I want to make sure that I use my time intentionally and thoughtfully.

It’s very easy in our culture to be consumed by our jobs, to over value our role and impact, and to believe we are irreplaceable. (Ask me to tell you about what I learned from the person who edited a used car magazine on this topic.)

I think it’s a fairly common experience that when we travel , we realize that what we thought was so important, is not. That’s definitely true for me.

I’ve had an amazing career. I’ve been a rabbi for 25 years and for 23 of them, I’ve been at the helm of the Adventure Rabbi Program. I dreamt up a novel concept and brought it to fruition. I built a program that influenced thousands of people. Astonishing.

But I’m aware that I’m not the only one who can do the work I do.

It thrills me to watch Rabbi Alan and Rebecca gradually take over the reins of the organization. I’m excited to empower them to do more and to watch them grow Adventure Rabbi in ways that I have not imagined. They have different strengths and abilities than I do and so they will build on my creation, in their own style.

And, I’m looking forward to them in their turn, feeling the fulfillment and joy that I have felt. I want that for them.

I’m ready to be doing something else.

You asked me, “What do you think about while you ride? “

I think about this:

- What do I want to do next?

- Who do I want to do it with?

- Where do I want to live?

- And are there pancakes around the next bend in the road? Steaming hot, blueberry pancakes, stacked high, and dripping with maple syrup…

July 4 Hammerfest Norway

 FAQ number two:

2. What do you think about while you ride?

I think a lot about nothing. Dramatic scenery -mountains and fjords, flowers and trees, rocks and rivers — surround me and still my mind. Or focus it? But maybe that’s a cop out.

Let me try again.

I think about what I want to say in these posts. I tell the story to myself, reorder it, wordsmith it, play with the phrasing until the cadence and rhythm roll easily.

A lot of the time I’m just breathing. Of course we are always breathing, but when you’re working hard on a bike, you’re really breathing! Sometimes I am completely engaged with the in and out of my breath. Sometimes I add in looking at the white line that is painted on the road’s shoulder. I just look at the line and listen to my breath, and settle deep into a place of full-on effort. Hours go by.

Sometimes I think about my body mechanics. Am I pulling up with my hamstrings and not just pushing down with my quads, are my shoulders down and back, is my weight off of my wrists, are my ankles loose and rotating, are my knees in, my hips tilted properly and so on.

The scenery also leads me to think about similar trips I’ve been on - similar in either scenery or style.

Many teenage summers cycling in Maine, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island, with Ruth Roemer, Dana, Barry Martin Sean, Robin, Robert and Libby (her t-shirt said: “I get 25 miles to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”)

Coast to Coast with Bobbi and Paul Puretz (I still do the 2-minute bike check), France and Italy with the Amy crew, Alaska, Switzerland.

I definitely pass a lot of miles thinking about my sister, our parents, my family, and my friends. I live a rather solitary lifestyle, but I’m also very relationship based.

I think about my lovers. Old lovers, young lovers, past lovers, future lovers, potential lovers. Potential lovers might want to take note of the following:

I’ll confess that I pass many miles thinking about pancakes. Large stacks of steaming hot, blueberry pancakes with fresh maple syrup pouring over the sides. I’ve also passed many miles contemplating if crêpes would suffice, since I’m in Norway, and I think they would, but they have to be fresh, and hot and filled with blueberries. (As you can see, diner breakfasts played a formative role in my early bike touring experiences. Cycling is inexorably connected with packcakes, pie and milkshakes.)

I do set my mind onto larger topics. I would say those fall into two categories:

1. The passage of time

2. Priorities

We should give those another post.

July 4 Kyrksaetetota Norway

 When I was 15 and she was 16, Robin Fraser (may her memory be a blessing ) and I became vegetarians. Her birthday party invitations that year said, “Peas come to my party!” with a picture of a pea pod, which was funny because she was a vegetarian.

I don’t know what Robyn‘s impetus was, but I became a vegetarian because of Peter Lindau. High school crushes are very powerful things.

Anyway, I’ve been a vegetarian most of my life, with a few meat eating interludes. One was when I was working on a fishing boat in Alaska and there was little access to non-meat.

Another was when I was married and raising kids. My family liked meat so I cooked it. But when my kids moved out almost 2 years ago, the meat kinda left home with them. It wasn’t purposeful or intentional, it was just that when I was shopping for myself I discovered I never bought meat or fish.

Still another time when I ate meat was when was an ultra-marathon runner. I remember recognizing that I was not getting sufficient protein to do what I was trying to do. I switched to a meat rich diet, and my running improved tremendously.

I was thinking about that last night when I was laying down, my entire body feeling sore, tight, and wrung out, and realizing I needed to switch up something in my nutrition.

My strategy is to up my protein and salt levels. A Norwegian breakfast fits perfectly! And you know what? I do feel better!

My gear is dried and repacked, my devices are charged, the next section of trip to BODO is downloaded, I did some yoga, I ate some salmon and I think I’m good to go.

July 2

 The Doctor of Divinity is answering frequently asked questions. Today’s faq

1. What do you listen to?

I listen to a lot of quiet.

I listen to the wind, rain,

seagulls, sheep bells, sometimes the swish of cars passing, and often my own breathing in and out.

Sometimes I listen to Paul Simon and similar artists. Lots of slip sliding away and still crazy after all these years.

Often I listen to books by Louise Penny. Lisa Kors suggested these to me years ago and I never got into them. Now I love them and there’s 1 million of them. I guess I was saving them for when I needed community on the road.

I listen to the sound on my own voice while I sing, or argue with my bike navigation app. “ Why are you telling me to go left? There is no left.”

The quiet is restful.

July 2 Malmefjorden Norway

 This was a much easier day. I did not have to wait for ferries or climb big hills. The only obstacle was that there is tunnel under the sea and bikers are restricted . I got there at 8 PM and the next bus wasn’t till 10 PM so I found a place to camp! I’ll get the bus tomorrow and go into town and get a big breakfast. I miss pancakes. I also miss my sister. I’d like to have pancakes with my sister.

Highlight of the day included a woman in the grocery store who, when I asked if they sold any hot coffee said no, but she would go in the back and make me one because on a rainy day like today, a person needs a cup of coffee.

I thought of all kinds of fun things to write, but now I’m too tired. I’m going to sleep.

July 2

 I don’t think there are, but are any of my Facebook friends from Highview elementary school 1st to 3rd grade? If so do any of you remember the workday during which our parents built us a swing like this?

We thought it was the most amazing playground in the world.

That was back in the day when really nobody had any money to give to a fundraiser, and there were long lines for gas, which was cusping over $.50 a gallon, and you could only line up for gas on your specified day of the week.

Back then, building a playground out of tires was an incredible show of parental love and Community taking care of Community.

Someone might tell me that having kids play on used tires is toxic for their systems, but all I see is creativity and ingenuity, and all I feel is my parents love.

July 1

 This morning at 5:15 I boarded the Hurtigruten cruise ship. Most people are riding from Bergen to Nordkapp, but you can just book port to port tickets.

I wanted to see Vestkapp (western edge of Norway) but it looked like this. (Photo below.)

However, lest you get disappointed, they have laundry on board!!! I’ll have clean clothes!!! Might be a good day to explore the question I asked about if bike trips are better than Bumble .

Plus the weather cap came off my bike computer and I was able to borrow a small screwdriver and fix it. I won’t bore you with another tale of my seriously great (ok, my seriously greatly improving) fix it powers but I almost gave up 17 times because the fix requires

1. Small agile hands

2. Really good eyesight

3. Holding a tiny screwdriver, a tiny screw, two clippy things, phone flashlight, the cover and the device ALL At THE SAME TIME (huh? How is YouTube person doing this so easily?)

4. But I did not give up (since you can’t see anything out the windows anyway so I had plenty of time and a good work surface) and I did it,

so go me.

I’m going to fold some laundry.

Today I lost things.

Today I lost things.

I lost my bike lock. Then, I lost the key to my hotel room.

When the proprietor of the hotel suggested that I leave the bike in the hall on the first floor, instead of lugging it up to third floor I decided to lug.

The Doctor of Divinity meets the staff

 

Korngold is with Siri A. Honningsvåg and Sara Bazon in Floro / Norway.

  · 

Shared with Public

The Doctor of Divinity meets the staff-Rabbi Kushner tell this story and one of his books.

He describes officiating at a funeral when the mourner comes up to him and says, “Rabbi, I never runderstood the line in Psalm 23, ‘Your rod and your staff, they comfort me,’ until now. Your staff at the temple has been amazing to me since my dad died. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through this without them.’” Kushner writes that at first he thought the man misunderstood the meaning of staff, but then he realized that it was he, Rabbi Kushner, who had misunderstood.

This morning, I met the staff.

I am in the western most town of Norway. As you know, I worked very hard to get here. Closed tunnels, mountains that jilted me, a phone that got wet and spent the better part of a day in a bag of rice, detours over mtns, blah blah blah- However, the ferry that I plan to take no longer stops here. Or never did? Or maybe that Norwegian phrase means something else? I need help.

This is the price of traveling without planning. I love to travel with Amy who carefully researches where we will stay on our bike trips and even reviews the Google images of the roads to make sure they are small and safe for us. Her trips are the best!!! (Thank you Amy.) You would never ride to the western edge of a country, planning to take a ferry that doesn’t exist, on one of Amy’s trips.

However, I don’t do any of that. When I try to plan, I get overwhelmed by the choices and fall into the trap of wanting the trip to be the best because good or fine are insufficient.

(Danger lays ahead on this route people!!! You do not need to live your best life. Just live a good life. Be kind to people. Take care of your body. Call your mother. If your mother has died, call your sister, call your daughter, call your niece. Call someone that loves you and you love back. Don’t try to be the best! )

I digress. Doctors of Divinity do that.

The point is that I have a vague plan and I go. But now where will I go?

Back to needing help.

Sara Bazon at the front desk, both speaks English and is happy to help me. “You rode your bike all the way here? You are going where?”

It turns out the ferry is not canceled. It just doesn’t run on Sundays. I tell her I’ll go anywhere just not South. We finally find a ferry leaving at 4:30 this afternoon, that will take me north. From there, I can travel west, riding a couple hours and either camp or stay at another hotel. Thank you to the staff.

I head back to my breakfast table (yes Shara- I know you need to know what was for breakfast. I will add that at the end.), which I am now sharing with a Siri A. Honningsvåg whose family was seated next to me and has spilled onto mine.

She apologizes and I say no it’s great. It makes me feel like I have friends. She assures me that I do! I have a big group of friends now.

Did she say they were 300 of them here for a wedding? Between a Sri Lankan and a Norwegian? That the bride wore a wedding sari that this 6 meters long? That 300 guests blessed the sari? (Which means good thoughts/hopes, yes I asked.) That 2000 sri Lakens settled here in the 1980s? That they feasted on a perfect combo of Sri Laken appetizers and Norwegian cakes?

Two seats down is her grandmother who once took five kids in a minivan camping up the coast of Norway. Grandmother, mother, and daughter help me me make a plan. Everyone says a different part of the coast is the most beautiful and not to be missed. But something has to be skipped. We talk back-and-forth, with a lot of translation happening, And finally we decide. I’ll ride north another day then jump the Hurtigruten because it has a cool name and can get me around vestkapp, which is gorgeous and not to be missed they say, and then head north.

Your staff they comfort me.

Ps: My gear is alll dry including the light weight tent.

Pss: Shara Rutberg, 3 or 4 cups of coffee. It is true, although I don’t remember who recently told me this, but good coffee really doesn’t need sugar. Norwegian salmon because you have to. The most incredible strawberry, raspberry and blueberry jam ever. A crepe to put jams on. Yogurt to put jams on. Soft boiled egg on soft billowy wheat bread. More soft blowy freshly made wheat bread to put jam on on. Seriously next breakfast I’m changing my name to Francis and just having bread and jam. Cookies that look like my “nanny cookies” to dunk in one more cup of coffee.

JUne 29

My university conferred on me the degree of Dr. of Divinity and so I felt compelled to go out into the world to find the divine.

Today I met Elijah the prophet. Here’s the story.

First, I have to catch you up on the day, which began at 3:47 am with a loud whoop as the wind rushed down off the glacier and collapsed my tent. My first thought was, well forget my first thought.

My second thought was that when I bought a “lightweight tent,” I intended to buy a tent that wouldn’t weigh very much. But perhaps they meant lightweight as in “this is a tent for lightweight activities like camping with your six-year-old in your front yard on a balmy calm summer evening, definitely not the kind of tent you would take on a month-long bike tour in Norway.”

Anyway, fast forward to me breaking camp, and by 4:30 am I riding down the road, which is early even for me.

I do my two biggest climbs of the entire trip, more on that later, but fast forward to say it was a really long day, including that 40 km detour.

I am finally 10 km from town, where a hotel room and dinner await me. It’s 7:30 at night and I am getting tired.

I reach a tunnel.

Now I’ve ridden through many tunnels at this point, but this one is different. It does not have sidewalks. And it’s 2 km long. And it stinks of fumes. I do not want to ride through that tunnel.

Miraculously, I noticed an overgrown path winding around the side of the tunnel, so I go to check it out. Turns out the reason it’s overgrown is that it has been covered by a massive rock slide. Younger Jamie would’ve attempted to hike a bike over it, but I’m not as stupid as I used to be.

I go back to the tunnel entrance.

I will not go through the tunnel on my bicycle.

I will not go around the tunnel.

I will not go back to where I came from.

I decide that I am going to hitchhike. I am going to stick out my thumb and somebody in a van is going to pick me up and drive me and my bicycle and my panniers through this stinky, dark, long tunnel .

(Don’t worry I was not abducted - nothing bad happens. And yes, yes I do have an emergency device in my pocket always just in case. And yes, I did have a plan of what I would say to the person if I didn’t feel comfortable getting a ride from them.)

And suddenly I notice that I feel very serene about the situation. It’s been a very, very long day. I’m tired but not cold. It’s still pouring, but I am warm because I’ve been riding really hard for a long time and my great shower pass head to toe rain gear. ( fyi I figured out a hack for the gloves more on that later.)

It’s been a tremendous day of accomplishments for me and somehow I will get through this last 10 km safely.

Several small cars stop, but they’re not large enough to take me and my bike.

Finally, a Tesla stops. The driver is well-dressed man in suit and he has three kids in the back and presumably it’s his wife in the front passenger seat. He tells me that I am allowed to cycle and people do it all the time. I explain to him why don’t want to ( too scary with the cars going so quickly and I don’t want to breathe fumes for that long.)

He says “I tell you what. How about this. I’ll take your packs so you can move more quickly and I will drive right behind you very slowly. I’m in a Tesla. They’ll be no fumes and I will make sure nobody passes you so you can feel safe. “

I said that’s going take a really long time. Are you sure you don’t mind? Are you sure the other cars won’t mind?“

He says, “ We were all put on this earth to help each other. That’s what we do.”