Crossing Over
Beverly Bridge, grand opening, April 8 2022 - near Beverly, Washington
The days following Captain’s death are a total blur and I have almost no memory of them at all. I didn’t get out of bed most days, neglected even the most basic of life chores except going to the bathroom, but even that was a struggle and a small part of me contemplated just going to the bathroom in the bed because I had frankly given up on life. The only thing I didn’t neglect was Zilla. I still made sure that he got his pills, his walks, and was fed, but other than him, I was completely devoid of a sense of meaning and purpose. For those first two weeks, I seriously contemplated shutting down Pedals4Paws.
I felt like an absolute failure. I ran over every possible scenario of what I’d done wrong that could have contributed to Captain’s death, blamed myself for every little misstep I’d made, and deemed myself unworthy as her caretaker as I could have done more; started supplements sooner, brought her in to the vet quicker, spent more time with her, etc. Grief is a terrible thing.
One thing that was eating me alive was my failed promise to Captain to get her to the Columbia River. Because of a tragic construction accident that killed one of the workers, the bridge opening over the Columbia had been delayed causing us to fall less than 2 miles short of our goal and me fulfilling my promise to her. Making it all the more painful, Captain passed on March 23, 2022, just a few days after the announcement that the bridge would be officially opening on April 8, 2022. I had fallen just 16 days and 2 miles short of keeping my promise to her. The pain of breaking this promise to her is a burden I will carry forever, though it pales in comparison to losing her.
The only bright spot was that the first purchase was made at the Pedals4Paws Store which raised enough money to make our first donation to the American Kennel Club Canine Health Foundation’s Oncology Fund to help fight canine cancer. It was awesome to finally be able to make that first donation, but at the same time, it was devastating to be doing it in memory of Captain’s passing instead of us celebrating this moment together.
As April 8th drew closer, I was still barely getting out bed and had no desire to do anything, but a little voice in me reminded me that I’d made the same promise to Zilla, to get him to the Columbia River and ultimately Idaho, if not further. With the suddenness of Captain’s passing fresh on my mind, I started to obsess over the fact that Zilla, being 14 and having health issues of his own, could also pass at any moment, and there was no way I could handle breaking a promise to him as well, so even though being on the bike was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, it was exactly what I needed to do to make sure I kept my promise to him. I then took 10 days off to get Zilla across the Columbia and knock out a large chunk of the remaining miles to Idaho.
(click photos to enlarge and see descriptions)
As expected, the morning of Bridge Day was tough. Not only did I still want to quit, but the weather forecast called for sustained winds of over 30 mph for the entire day. This was going to make sitting through all the planned ceremonies and public speakers a nightmare, not to mention the blowing dirt and grit of the desert getting in our eyes all day. It was not shaping up to be a pleasant experience. Perhaps that’s why it hit me so hard when, out of the blue, my dad’s cousin, Gail sent me a photo. She lived a few states away and was getting ready to go out on a bike ride of her own and want to show me that she was wearing her Pedals4Paws shirt to help spread the word in Montana. It was the first time I’d ever seen someone other than my parents or sister wearing Pedals4Paws gear, so to have it happen on such an emotional morning while I was bawling my eyes out at Captain’s passing, was just the most absolutely perfect moment that this could have happened as it helped me to realize that Pedals4Paws was now Captain’s legacy and how she would continue to live on and keep touching lives.
We pulled into the parking lot several hours before the bridge ceremony was set to begin as we wanted to make sure we were able to find parking, so I was a bit surprised to find that we were actually the first ones there aside from a few state park employees who were there to tell people where to park. After we parked, the 30+ mph winds became very apparent as they would blow things around inside the car when I’d open the car door and were blowing the dirt around in the dirt parking lot. Had the weather been nicer, Zilla and I would have been outside, but knowing we were going to be facing these winds all day, we were in no hurry to leave the comfort of the car. This meant I had about 3 hours to kill with nothing to distract me other than the scenery. This gave me a much needed opportunity to reflect on what this would mean to me and how when we would cross the bridge, I would be simultaneously keeping my promise to Zilla and failing Captain. It would be bittersweet. In an attempt to do my best to fulfill my promise to Captain, I had brought with all that I had left of her (a clump of her hair, her collar, her harness, and the life size pillow of her that my sister had sent me). It was my hope that by bringing these items across the bridge, I could at least symbolically keep my promise to her and bring a small bit of closure to my pain.
As time grew closer to the ceremony, a lot more cars started showing up and I was glad I had gotten there early to secure a parking spot. We saw one cyclist with a flat tire so I went over to try and help him. He said he was fine, didn’t need any help, and then proceeded to tell me about how he used to work on this rail line many years ago and shared some of his stories with me. After about 15 minutes, I could tell this guy was a talker who had no interest in anything but himself and so I found an excuse to politely leave. As fate would have it, this wouldn’t be our last encounter with this guy….
Zilla and I then assembled the bike and trailer, put Captain’s relics inside, and with heavy hearts, pedaled back to the last spot she had been on the western side of the bridge before we had to skip the 2 miles and jump over to the east side. It was our first ride without her, and Captain’s missing 65 lbs in the trailer were quite noticeable as it was physically much easier to ride without her. But my heart was infinitely heavier without her back there, keeping Zilla company, and I would have done anything to have her back there still, slowing the trailer down with her big Pig butt.
After we after at the last spot Captain had been. I took a few moments to compose myself, to recall some of the countless good times we’d had as a family, and to speak to her as I found I would be doing a lot from that point on. Though she wouldn’t hear me, it felt wonderful to verbalize some of the thoughts that I’d been having and it brought me a little comfort to hope that maybe in some capacity, her energy/spirit/soul (whatever you wish to believe in) was able to understand the emotion and intent of my words. I then got back on the bike and as Zilla and I started rolling down to the bridge, we began the impossible but inevitable process of continuing our journey without her.
As we rolled downhill, we saw lots of people make their way towards the bridge. Most were walking, some were biking, and we even saw one person on horseback. We saw the self-centered cyclist from earlier in the day and said a very brief hello, making sure to not be trapped in another longwinded conversation about trains and at about the same time, a man on foot saw the trailer and asked me about Pedals4Paws so I stopped and had a brief chat with him and learned his name was Rob. As Captain’s picture is on the trailer and she clearly wasn’t with us, Rob asked about her and I couldn’t compose myself and began crying as I told him her story. Rob then shared a very personal story with me about a personal tragedy of his own and we had a bit of a cathartic moment together. At the end of the conversation, and without me even sharing the part about Pedals4Paws raising money for animals in need, Rob reached into his pocket and pulled out some money and handed it to me. It was the first time anyone had ever donated to Pedals4Paws in person so the moment was very surreal, humbling, and mind-blowing all at the same time. I decided to give him one of our Pedals4Paws stickers to thank him for his generosity.
We then continued coasting downhill, aided by a 30+ mph tail wind and we were down by the ceremony area in no time. There was a crowd of a few hundred people gathered in a area that was probably no more than about 50 feet wide at any point, so it made navigating through the people a bit difficult, not to mention the very loose gravel surface we were attempting to maneuver on. This actually wound up being a good thing though as it forced me to really slow down and that meant that we were getting noticed. We had several people approach us to ask us what Pedals4Paws was so it was great chance to get the word out. At the same time, I noticed several people taking pictures of us, so that was cool too. To my surprise, one of them then approached me with a notepad and identified herself as a reporter for the Quincy Valley Post Register and she wanted to interview us for her paper. I obviously accepted and answered a number of questions about myself, the dogs, Pedals4Paws, and our journey and she told us that she was then going to write an article about us. I was thrilled! (I’ve since learned that we were apparently edited out and never appeared in the paper, but it was still fun!) We even had a couple of people shout out that knew who we were and had seen our stories online. All of this happening at once was quite overwhelming, let alone that the whole point of the day had been just to get Captain and Zilla across the Columbia, so I started to shut down and just wanted to make the last 100 yards to the bridge to release all the pent up emotion.
When we finally cleared the majority of the crowd and the bridge entrance came into sight, I couldn’t help but get emotional. Right then, a man yelled out, “Hey, Pedals4Paws!”, clearly trying to get my attention. But I was in no condition to talk to anyone right then, I just needed to get to the bridge and begin the healing process, so I pretended I didn’t hear him and rode on. I feel really bad about having ignored him, but I needed that moment to Zilla and myself. (If you’re reading this, I sincerely apologize and hope you forgive me for doing it under the circumstances.) We then rolled the last few feet to the bridge proper and I got off the bike, got Zilla, and we sat down next to the guard railing for a few minutes, contemplating everything and nothing at the same time. I had Zilla on my lap, Captain’s hair in my hand, and I just focused on the bond we had shared as a pack and how we enriched each other’s lives. It was a powerful moment for me. Then, with the wind howling and kicking lots of dust into my seated face, I got Dogzilla back in the trailer and we started riding across the bridge.
The ride across the bridge was peaceful (the wind was still behind us) and I’m sure the views were nice, but I was on a mission to get Captain and Tiny Toes (one of Dogzilla’s many names) to the other side so that I wouldn’t break a promise to Zilla as well. After several minutes, we made it to the other side and I found the spot where Captain, Zilla, and I and started our journey for the eastern portion of the trail. I had made good on my promise (as best I could) and felt a little relieved as a small amount of guilt was lifted as were the feelings of uncertainty about getting across. I took one very fake photo of myself smiling and then sat down to gather my thoughts about the upcoming trail and how we still had the most emotional part of the ahead to contend with (just east of Lind where a mechanical failure marked the closest to Idaho we would ever travel as a complete trio). While I was dealing with my demons, he showed up…the talker….
Being seated on the ground, I was at a clear disadvantage. This was compounded by the position of my bike trailer, the guardrail, the spot where the talker had chosen to stop as it all effectively boxed me in with no escape. I had no desire to talk to anyone at the moment, especially to be inundated by more half-assed train history (he had only worked for them for a few weeks before they went out of business). True to form, he immediately started in again about trains. It took me a couple minutes to hatch an escape plan, but I thought of an effective one. Since the guy was alone, I figured he didn’t have many pictures of himself for the day, so I offered to take a photo of him which would force him to move and provide me an escape path. He eagerly accepted. When he handed me his phone, I handed him a Pedals4Paws sticker in hopes of changing the subject of conversation from himself to me for a minute. The man then posed for his photo, while awkwardly holding up the sticker for the photo. Then, when I handed his phone back to him, he handed the sticker back to me. I was a bit confused and told him I had given it to him so he could have it. He responded, “I don’t have a dog so that doesn’t matter to me.” I tried to explain that you don’t have to have a dog to enjoy stories of travel or to even support animals in need, but the concept seemed entirely lost on him and he started in again with train history. Thankfully, I’d cleared my escape plan and was ready to flee but right then, the strongest gust of wind we’d felt for the day up to this point came directly out of the north and blew my bike over on the hard concrete. In the process, the Rod End: Female Studded, 52100 Steel Spherical, Right Hand, 3/8"-24 Thread Size, Carbon Steel got torqued in a way that caused the ball to pop out of the socket, deforming the socket in the process. A quick look confirmed my fears, it was damaged beyond repair meaning not only were we stuck, we were stuck with this guy chewing our ear off…. Coincidentally, this had occurred at the exact spot where we had rejoined to a spot that Captain had been. The breaking of the Rod End: Female Studded, 52100 Steel Spherical, Right Hand, 3/8"-24 Thread Size, Carbon Steel in effect symbolized how our pack had been broken by Captain’s death.
Being the over-preparer that I am, I had learned my lesson from the last incident involving a broken piece of trailer linkage (this now being the 3rd similar incident) so I had come prepared with not 1, but 2 back-up Rod End: Female Studded, 52100 Steel Spherical, Right Hand, 3/8"-24 Thread Size, Carbon Steel’s in my bag. So I knew it would be a very quick fix (just unscrewing and screwing 2 pieces on by hand), but I played it up to the talker that this was a big deal and required me to focus in order to fix it and that he should probably just carry on with his day. Incredibly, it worked! I started to wonder if maybe Captain was there in spirit, acting as my guardian angel, and she’d found a way to get rid of this guy for me. Thank you, Pig!
After the quick fix and taking a few extra minutes to let the talker make some distance, we headed back across the bridge. That’s when it hit us… So far, we’d been benefitting from the 30 mph tail winds, but now we would have to ride straight into them. Our progress was snail pace at best as it was extremely difficult to pedal into the wind. The symbolism of how hard it would be to carry on without Captain was not lost on me.
When we finally made it back across the bridge, it was obvious that the official festivities had just started. There was a large group of people gathered around a platform listening to the various dignitaries giving speeches (including many Native American speakers, a representative for the Great American Rail Trail, and Washington state’s governor, Jay Inslee). However, from where I was standing, the wind was so loud that you couldn’t hear any of the speakers, but thankfully their speeches were later televised and you can see them here if you’re interested. There was also a large, local high school marching band that was performing and an occasional loud train whistle was blown to stir memories of the former rail line. We stood around for a while watching this all going on, mostly since there was too large of a crowd for us to navigate with the bike and trailer. I’m usually interested in this kind of thing, but with the emotion of the day, I would have been happy just to get back to some solitude for a bit. Things all worked out for the best though…
While we stood around waiting, we had a woman approach us and make a donation to Pedals4Paws which was wonderful! Then, we were approached by a man on bike who introduced himself by way of business card as Jeffrey Fritts. Jeffrey is a long time cycle tourist and fellow animal lover. When his beloved dog Abby passed, he named his bike after her so that her spirit could still be with him. Along his bike tour, Jeffrey would stop at local animal shelters that he passed and volunteer his time to help some of the animals in need. Talk about a wonderful person! I may try to incorporate some of the shelter volunteering into our trip as well!
Shortly after talking to Jeffrey, we were approached by man named Steve and his dog Cholo. It turned out, Steve and I had both adopted dogs named Maggie around 2006 and that he had built a trailer for her to ride in. He then shared Cholo’s story. Cholo had been a street dog in Baja, Mexico. While there, some heartless person decided to try and murder Cholo by slitting his throat and leaving him for dead. Incredibly, someone found Cholo clinging to life and was able to get him to a vet in time and he was saved. Then through a system of networking, someone contacted Steve in Washington and asked him if he’d be willing to take Cholo, even though he was several thousand miles away. Obviously, things worked out as Cholo and Steve were there talking to Zilla and I. Cholo’s story was very touching. He embodies the exact type of animal that I hope to help through Pedals4Paws. That’s when it hit me just how important it was to carry on with Pedals4Paws; this was Captain’s legacy and how she would live on by helping animals like Cholo who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance at life. There was no way I could quit now, I had a renewed sense of purpose and finally felt at peace with my decision to come to the bridge opening despite the loss of Captain.
A short while later, we were filmed by a cameraman and we made it on TV courtesy of the NBC News! But the best part of the day was yet to come.
When all the speakers had finished, the crowd began to disperse and we were able to head back to the car. It was a ridiculously slow affair as we were heading uphill into a 30 mph sustained wind and on loose gravel. We were barely making 2 mph. But when we got back to the car, I saw that I had missed a call through all of the noise of wind, marching band, etc. There was a voicemail from Captain’s vet, her ashes had come back from the crematory much earlier than expected and I could come and get her! It was already late in the afternoon and we were roughly 4 hours from the house and 2 hours in the other direction from our hotel. It made the most sense to just go to the hotel and continue with our trip, picking Captain’s ashes up 10ish days later.
Logic be damned, I didn’t care at all about 10 extra hours of driving, all that extra gas, or even losing a day of riding as a result; the most important thing in the world to me at that moment was getting home and getting Captain so that’s exactly what I did.
(click below for video)
Episode 6 - Crossing Over
