Uncertainty in Certain Lands

To preface my story, I’m not a photographer, but I enjoy exploring new avenues to aid the many I can tell. Conveying specifically the feeling of uncertainty from my own perspective to others has always challenged me, but I think this photo encapsulates a small component of that issue and the resolve below.

Right here, right now, I am in Kentucky, but I live in Philadelphia. I’m writing this during week 3 of a 10 week cycling tour across the United States. I look at the grass, the roads, the “Philadelphia Cheesesteak” option blazoned on the menu of many of the local diners and pubs we’ve found refuge in and I consider two questions. Are these the same elements I’ve seen on my many rides on the Schuylkill River Trail and around Philly and if so, is this why people travel or contrarily, don’t travel? Buildings, landscape, and in a majority of cases, people, have an archetype, yet we put an emphasis on the differences between them seeing some as the things we know, and the others in what I call the Junk Drawer of human interaction. A drawer that almost never gets opened unless to put new things in yet has so many unexplored potential, like when you find letters from an old love, or the headphones from the store, or the water bottle cage for your bicycle. Even though you may listen to the same music on those headphones, or drink from the same bottle, or see the same grass, these are all catalysts for helping you make a decision and become more certain in your endeavors. The idea that new opportunities await for those who engage in certainty spurred my interest and shed new light on the subject of travel. It also in turn brought me here to Kentucky, nearly 1000 miles away from “home.”

Uncertainty, in a basic ideology, is compiled from a lack of access and comfort. Uncertainty is present in everyday life, and overcoming uncertainty is how we grow. It’s even necessary to be uncertain as you age, something lost in adolescence. How do you capture or communicate a feeling without a literal interpretation that only applies to exacting circumstances? This is not a question I ask myself anymore because I am, and have to be, certain now.

4 guys, traveling across the U.S. on bikes, during a pandemic, economic crisis, national outcry for equality, and without jobs, was the pitch. We each became certain 3 weeks ago and I hope I can help those reading to as well.

First, the photo above was taken just three days ago around 9am, which is late for us. It shows two barbs and a very out-of-focus landscape far behind. It’s not complex, obviously, but it actually represents how I feel. Unfortunately, I don’t think it does a great job at convincing others, but again, I’m not a photographer. I’ve also never agreed with the idea that art should stand alone. In life we find that it’s not at all an exclusive end and beginning, but the process and movement we make in the time between. To represent an instant is only a part of the tale. In short, I see myself constantly behind the barbs on a wire and I know that whats behind them always, I mean always, lies something so profound and irreplaceable. The blur and over exposed horizon make this a favorite of the photos I’ve taken over the past 3 weeks because of the intricacy of my ideas that stem from it. The possibilities are endless, as they say, for me to imagine those items just out of reach, but the barbed wire stays structural, as it does.

The idea behind the photo is quite simple, however, the operation to gain access and the willingness to leave comfort for undefinable experience is difficult to understand. Conceptually, we all find crossroads, forks-in-the-road, or paths to take in life, but choosing the right way doesn’t ever truly matter. It’s in the act of choosing and venturing down the 1 of infinite paths that we live life.

This picture defines my trip in such a simple, cohesive manner. I, and I alone, know exactly what’s over that barbed wire because I was there, in Kentucky, seeing it with my own eyes. With some likeminded friends and the generosity of strangers, I’ve found myself somewhere I’ve never been, nor thought I would ever be and that is definitely something I can’t capture and give away.

For some perspective and hopefully as inspiration, my three friends and I have, over the past 3 weeks; slept behind a Walmart, liquor store, pizza shop, 2 fire departments and 4 churches; seen an impeccable sunset from 3,000+ ft. above sea level and 19 others below that; seen 2 black bears; drank true Kentucky moonshine; prayed; sprained two ankles; popped 6 tires; climbed over 30,000 ft; probably descended the same; tried to sleep through 4th of July fireworks; listened to Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyester Cult over 50 times; overstayed our welcome at too many air-conditioned institutions; eaten the most food a waitress in a Kentucky diner has seen out of all her customers; wrung out 7 sweaty t-shirts on the sides of roads; said the phrase “we’re from Philadelphia headed to San Francisco” as well as “yea, it’s pretty crazy,” too many times to count; and had 0 regrets about any of it.

The joke that the road is now our home has slowly become our reality yet has sustained it’s humor as we venture forward because to laugh at the fact that we’re completely disregarding a conventional, safe, and responsible life before is to accept the fact that we made a choice 3 weeks ago. Unbounded physically and mentally, I think we have each found ourselves to be certain this has been the best choice we’ve ever made.

As a final note, this is my brief interpretation of the trip so far and my method of storytelling through the lens. I used Lightroom and Photoshop to make small edits to lens correction and blurring. For a more in-depth and detailed breakdown of our weeks so far, please visit my fellow cyclist’s website, hythacg.com. He has many, albeit more crafted and cohesive, photos of the journey if you’d like to know more. Thank you for your consideration.

-John Adam Plenge

BikeAmerica 2020