etymology of a journey / chicken

I don't know precisely when the egg that is the idea of this impending adventure was laid, or when it hatched. However, I can attest without hesitation that the resulting chicken is alive and growing and practically itching to strut out of the coop!

In this particular scenario Peter is no doubt our very own mother hen. After his experiences pedaling throughout Italy and down the West Coast, he was inspired to inspire Carly and I to join together with him on a similar, yet distinctly Canadian venture. His expertise and patience (an excellent trait combination, I might add!) have proven to be invaluable. He was the one that found free, aging, and excellent touring bikes for both Carly and I, which is quite a feat, not the least because it happens to be nigh impossible to find any bike with a large enough frame to accommodate my giraffe-like lower appendages.

The aforementioned egg turned chicken is no ordinary poultry. Each feather is made of an hour of dreaming, each muscle made of an hour of planning, and its tough skin formed by the hard work of overcoming realities. It has had to take utmost care to steer clear of carnivorous farmers with axes, and although there have been several sightings, there have been no mishaps or vertigo-inducing action-movie chase sequences through the tall grasses and barns. While the fowl is still young and has yet to master its motor skills, we hold to the old adage while bracing for the bumbles: "If you're not falling, you're not learning." (thanks, Dad!)

As a note of explanation, before you all flood our inboxes with panicked messages warning us of our grave error, the last word of the title of this blog was indeed formed quite purposefully; it is not a victim of some terrible grammatical crime. To busk, according to the dictionary, means "To play music or perform entertainment in a public place, usually while soliciting money." A substantial part of our summer's journey involves doing precisely that, with hopes of both putting smiles on the faces of passersby, and procuring enough dough to buy enough bread to keep our legs healthfully and furiously pedaling. Additionally, there is an element of searching to the word "busk." It is partially derived from the Spanish "buscar," to seek, which corresponds to the nature of this journey perfectly. We seek life-changing experiences and encounters, connection with nature and humanity, deep bonds among ourselves, the wisdom and patience that comes from hardship, and of course, tanned and hardened muscles!

Off to the haystack to get some rest...

Dan