tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26273624754645427432024-03-13T08:51:16.142-07:00Hello from Tacoma!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-45529596164852042422012-11-10T19:00:00.003-08:002012-11-11T18:14:30.814-08:00Last PostAh... it's good to be home.<br />
<br />
It was 66 degrees today. Seems like the weatherperson has a cruel sense of irony. All the same, I am glad to be home.<br />
<br />
<h4>
General Thoughts</h4>
I'm really glad I did the trip. I have no regrets whatsoever. And -- best of all -- I only had to wait a year from the time I started planning. I met boatloads of people, most of whom I had no idea I would meet, most of whom were incredibly kind to me. I came out with lots of stories (more than could even fit on this blog), have two new friends from Bosnia, have leads on a few jobs, can say I've taken a bath outdoors in the back yard of someone I met less than an hour beforehand, and the list goes on. I'm really happy I did this, and I can't wait to do it again. I mean, I kind of have to wait, unless money starts growing on trees or coming out of the hot water pipe. Not to mention there are <a href="http://90bikes90days.org/">other things</a> I want to do first.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Stats</h4>
<div>
Both for fun, for my own curiosity, and to appease your inquisitiveness, here are the stats of the trip -- those I can remember, anyways.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Date departed: August 20th, 2012<br />
Date arrived: November 2nd, 2012<br />
Total number of days: 74<br />
Total number of break days: 12 (9 of which were spent in Jeff City, CO, while waiting for Lisa to arrive from CT)<br />
Nights with Warmshowers hosts: 14<br />
Nights invited on the property of a complete stranger: ~6<br />
Nights in a motel: ~3<br />
Nights in a church: 1<br />
Nights stealth camped: ~50<br />
<br />
Total miles: 4,032<br />
Average miles/day (excluding 12 break days): 65<br />
Longest day: 144 miles -- Pueblo, CO to Sheridan Lake, CO; 6 AM departure, 8 PM arrival<br />
Estimated revolutions per wheel: 3,268,164<br />
Estimated pedal strokes: 2,513,972<br />
Continental Touring Pluses (Tires) replaced: 1<br />
8-speed chains used: 2<br />
<br />
Total amount spent on room and board: $1460<br />
90 day budget: $1800<br />
Proportional budget for 74 actual days: $1480<br />
Average amount spent per day (including break days): $19.72<br />
Daily budget: $20<br />
<br />
<h4>
Next Up</h4>
<div>
After I spend the holidays at home enjoying my last "real break" before entering real life, I plan to visit India, Guatemala, and Zambia, to volunteer as a bike mechanic. I'm keeping a blog for this one too -- be sure to follow it at <a href="http://90bikes90days.org/blog">90bikes90days.org/blog</a>. This month starts more fundraising, trying to get airlines to sponsor me, and applying for an Indian visa! Don't miss out.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As far as careers go, I have an interview lined up with Epic, a healthcare technology company in Madison, WI. The position is a perfect fit, so I'm hopeful. I could end up there for a while, or I could get into bicycle advocacy and education. As far as I know right now, I would be happy doing either. Bottom line, I want to make a positive impact on the world. Maybe that makes me naive... I'm okay with that. If there is one thing this trip has done, it has shown me that kindness can never go too far. I already wanted to make the world a better place, but now I kind of have to -- all those people who gave me food, company, a place to sleep, they all said one thing:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pass it on.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/68365_10151131836613441_2023957213_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/68365_10151131836613441_2023957213_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Tell me... what is it you plan to do with your one wild, precious life...?</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Mary Oliver</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-56565421106984196752012-11-06T16:20:00.001-08:002012-11-06T16:20:05.719-08:00Iowa City, IA to Minneapolis, MN: I'm not dead -- I'm home!Greetings devoted followers! I apologize for the delay between this and the last post -- a lot has happened, as always. For starters: Yes, the title of this post speaks true, I am home! Apparently some people have been worried that I might have died. Not the case.<br />
<br />
So, that means this blog is quickly winding down. There will be <i>two </i>more posts, this being the first. It will focus on the last few days of the trip. The second post will be an overview and have a small "What's Next?" -- because you can't just stop at biking the country. Be sure to tune in a few days from now for the final post! And until then, on to business...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_Tr26tD84Q/UJmftjw7BdI/AAAAAAAAAtY/vDsXHQQKUnY/s1600/IMG_7085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_Tr26tD84Q/UJmftjw7BdI/AAAAAAAAAtY/vDsXHQQKUnY/s320/IMG_7085.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The business of pedaling!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We left Iowa City at 8:30 with an encouraging text from Anne (our host) ("Get your asses out of bed and in the saddle!"). Aside from passing an old-fashioned Diary Queen (see FB) and a car wash called "Rubber Ducky Car Wash" (complete with smiling rubber duck logo), it was a pretty standard day. Heck, it wasn't even that cold.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thanks to Anne, we have a route picked out for the next day and a half. There was a bike trail from Ely, IA to Waterloo, IA. The trail would turn out to have some hiccups, but nothing major.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As we came into Cedar City, IA, we saw some pretty cool houses, and some pretty cool art. There was one house I neglected to photograph that had a gazebo built into it. We saw a birdhouse made out of a cowboy boot, and another made out of a bicycle helmet. It was all quite swell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Before we went into the maze of bicycle trail throughout Cedar City, we smelled... delicious.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SklKykTrPz0/UJmjGw0kQ8I/AAAAAAAAAt8/MasmR_pF9FE/s1600/IMG_7093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SklKykTrPz0/UJmjGw0kQ8I/AAAAAAAAAt8/MasmR_pF9FE/s320/IMG_7093.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
DELICIOUS</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An intentional wrong turn led us to a Czech Village with a Czech bakery. It was the most delicious choice we made ever. Okay, maybe not ever... but having lunch at a bakery is definitely on my do-more list.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We continued on to make it about 20 miles outside Waterloo before stopping for dinner at Joensy's Tenderloins in Center Point, IA. It was one of the three places to eat in town, next to a pizza place and a gourmet snack shop -- eg, Joensy's was the cheapest and the least greasiest.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dmFIW5Eh96o/UJmkxBkmNhI/AAAAAAAAAuI/mZN4XuAkLuk/s1600/IMG_7105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dmFIW5Eh96o/UJmkxBkmNhI/AAAAAAAAAuI/mZN4XuAkLuk/s320/IMG_7105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And unbeknownst to us, also the hugest.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After letting our stomachs settle we decided to head out and look for the first place to stealth camp we could find. Despite having just taken a break day, we were exhausted... somehow. So we found a place. And crashed. At 7.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IuMgMZjIGG4/UJmmKkOAfwI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/_4hGmxf6PIo/s1600/IMG_7113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IuMgMZjIGG4/UJmmKkOAfwI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/_4hGmxf6PIo/s320/IMG_7113.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And woke up and were cold.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We woke up and thought about getting going... and then decided it was too cold. We didn't get going until 9, at which point all our stuff was <i>still </i>frosted (see photos on facebook). We had to stop frequently to rub our toes, change into warmer and/or colder clothing, etc. etc. It was all rather annoying, and not something we really wanted to repeat. But really.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We had set ourselves up to stealth camp for four out of the next six nights... and weren't really looking forward to it. We weren't meeting a heck of a lot of people (since, at that time of year, most of our meeting happened via Warmshowers), and oh yea... did I mention it was cold?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I first left Tacoma, the point of the ride was to get to Minnesota. Sort of. I wasn't really sure what the point was, but I decided that a significant part of it was to have fun, and to meet people. We weren't meeting a lot of people, and it was so cold that it wasn't fun -- at least between the hours of 4 PM and 11 AM. So we decided not to continue.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Somehow my Grandma was able to come get us that same day. We were expecting to have a day to change our minds, but alas -- quick-acting Grandmas. In any case, we were glad to be warm. We spent a few days with Arlene (my Grandma) and Caleb (my first cousin) before my sister came to pick us up and take us home to Minneapolis.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--6Udkopvf1s/UJmoAeB-4oI/AAAAAAAAAuY/PpS6npIWR8M/s1600/IMG_7134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--6Udkopvf1s/UJmoAeB-4oI/AAAAAAAAAuY/PpS6npIWR8M/s320/IMG_7134.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Yo! It's cold in here!"</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So... thus ends the story of my bicycle trip across the country. I have a lot more to say... which I will say in my last post. Check again in a few days. For now, I'm being called to cook dinner and watch the election! My dog is here, my mom, sister, and best friend are all here... oh, and did I mention -- it's warm indoors?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-45462564700856063692012-10-31T12:16:00.002-07:002012-10-31T12:16:45.785-07:00Bowen, IL to Iowa City, IA: Cold days, Warmshowers, and Gravel RoadsSome point shortly after crossing the Continental Divide I had thought the universe couldn't keep making ridiculous things happen. Then I met Rattlesnake Jim. Well, since taking a break in Jeff City, I haven't doubted the universe; I guess I just... forgot? Or was more excited about biking with Lisa than anything else. But since leaving St. Louis, I have been given free postage, offered a place to sleep in a barn, camped out in a torrential downpour, slept in a bathroom, met Gene, and... well, yes, there is still more to be told. Bicycle touring at its finest.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Before leaving us to our fish, Gene offered to bring us some breakfast, an offer which we graciously accepted. Remember, we only had 26 miles to go into Keokuk, so we had all the time in the world to close camp the next morning. Gene showed up about 8:00 and helped us get the fire going again. We decided to let it simmer down before cooking breakfast, so we headed out to help him feed the cows while we waited.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rDTi20slWZo/UJFS5APjBgI/AAAAAAAAAqg/oQoedBsRrLM/s1600/IMG_6934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rDTi20slWZo/UJFS5APjBgI/AAAAAAAAAqg/oQoedBsRrLM/s320/IMG_6934.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Feed us! Feed us!"</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They chased us through the pasture for a bit before we got to the feed area. We helped Gene distribute grain before trying to pet some of the cows, but they were too shy for that. We didn't want to make them uncomfortable, so we headed back to the fire, and got a cookin'.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9GbSy-RNI2E/UJFeC-2XHQI/AAAAAAAAArE/7gHxaT7avgY/s1600/IMG_6949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9GbSy-RNI2E/UJFeC-2XHQI/AAAAAAAAArE/7gHxaT7avgY/s320/IMG_6949.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Mmm... camping in the midwest.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's not a picture of our breakfast, but I decided you'd like it better than one. We had eggs, bacon, and toast. Thanks, Gene!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The rest of the day was pretty standard riding. We did encounter a lot of dogs, but none that wanted to bite us, so no harm done. Oh and remember, we had all day to do only 26 miles, so we took it super easy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jNbtbpuJW8o/UJFfN_7w1zI/AAAAAAAAArQ/tw1V_EmrzIY/s1600/IMG_6958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jNbtbpuJW8o/UJFfN_7w1zI/AAAAAAAAArQ/tw1V_EmrzIY/s320/IMG_6958.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Flying a plane is super easy.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We also found the COOLEST PLAYGROUND EVER in Hamilton, IL. They had a wooden plane, train, truck, and tractor along with the regular playground. Okay, the playground wasn't terribly awesome (I have high standards about my playgrounds), but I was super excited to have found a giant wooden airplane. Those of you who can see all of my photos via Facebook... beware.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we went to Iowa...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CboDAoAUFzc/UJFgR-8_MvI/AAAAAAAAArY/14xi6V0AxJs/s1600/IMG_6974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CboDAoAUFzc/UJFgR-8_MvI/AAAAAAAAArY/14xi6V0AxJs/s320/IMG_6974.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
One of these things is not like the other.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
...and met our hosts for the night, Stephanie, Bill, and their 2-year-old son, Grant. We had a grand old time. Dinner was salad and pizza, all from scratch; dessert was snicker-doodle and pumpkin butterscotch cookies, again from scratch. We took a walk around the neighborhood, which was really interesting. Keokuk was apparently one of the first cities to build a bridge across the Mississippi, so at one time it had the largest concentration of millionaires in the world. Since 1976, however, the population of Iowa has decreased every single year. This means you can buy a beautiful riverfront home in Keokuk for anywhere from $30,000-$100,000 (most of them need some $100,000s of work, however). It was ridiculous. Bill and Stephanie knew a lot about the houses in the area and how they were built, so it was a swell tour. Back at their house, we watched a video of their bicycle tour of France, complete with castles and stunned Frenchmen ("Vous etes de la!?" -- "You're from where!?"). Anyways.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8hl6tTMG83U/UJFiXjSB5iI/AAAAAAAAArg/MFeQG222-g0/s1600/IMG_6977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8hl6tTMG83U/UJFiXjSB5iI/AAAAAAAAArg/MFeQG222-g0/s320/IMG_6977.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Eat me..."</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We took off the next morning hoping to make it halfway to Iowa City, where our next host was. This included a 10 mile ride along the Mississippi River, which we then departed, not to meet again until the last day of the entire tour.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WBOPQELw1uQ/UJFtbTYqQFI/AAAAAAAAAsI/ay0wGl4aLEs/s1600/IMG_7033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WBOPQELw1uQ/UJFtbTYqQFI/AAAAAAAAAsI/ay0wGl4aLEs/s320/IMG_7033.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Lisa is pretty satisfied with herself right about now.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Iowa isn't exactly made for bike riding. Remember that we were off the ACA route and making up our own. We also didn't have a road map of Iowa since the tourist center in Keokuk was closed. So, we had to resort to Google maps.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RyFfIiIshLE/UJFuOmfRocI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Hv2mTVmKEDk/s1600/IMG_7038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RyFfIiIshLE/UJFuOmfRocI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Hv2mTVmKEDk/s320/IMG_7038.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Don't ever use Google maps to tour Iowa.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We found ourselves on some gravel roads and even at one point (as pictured above) on a road that wasn't a road. It had been removed a few years ago (most of Google maps is dated 2007, I believe), but we only had 0.3 miles to do on it, so we did anyways. The other option was riding along a four lane divided highway with no margin, so... I keep trying to tell myself it wasn't too bad.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, to the left of the not-a-road was a cider mill, where we stopped for lunch and bought fresh bread and fudge. No complaints there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Aside from the unconventional directions it was a pretty standard day. We made it to and left Mt. Pleasant, IA (the halfway point to Iowa City) about 5 PM, looking for a place to camp.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0OsxgzOjDdM/UJFvRAvHqHI/AAAAAAAAAsY/dRaz8wOMZRc/s1600/IMG_7040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0OsxgzOjDdM/UJFvRAvHqHI/AAAAAAAAAsY/dRaz8wOMZRc/s320/IMG_7040.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
We didn't camp here.</h4>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not ten minutes out of town I looked back to see Lisa holding up traffic. There was an SUV next her with its window rolled down. A bit confused and a bit worried, I motioned to her to get out of the way so it could pass. We were in the Midwest, so it would be unusual for someone to cuss you out, but better safe than sorry. The driver waved as he passed me and pulled over just ahead. He got out, opened his trunk, and lo and behold...<br />
<br />
a bicycle.<br />
<br />
So we had a place to sleep for the night. Mark gave us directions to his friend's farm, where he was headed for a party of sorts. This is the type of party where old men drink lots of beer and talk about nothing in particular for hours. It was swell.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ztbJV9dwiXg/UJFxoCsnguI/AAAAAAAAAsg/M-9s7x6Bw1U/s1600/IMG_7053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ztbJV9dwiXg/UJFxoCsnguI/AAAAAAAAAsg/M-9s7x6Bw1U/s320/IMG_7053.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
From right to left: Circuit Breaker, Iron Man, Geek Squad, Cobra Leader, General Lee, Gator, Camel Kid, and Silent Partner.</h4>
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
You can't make this stuff up.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They had a lot of food which they didn't eat, but offered to us instead, which we graciously took for the following day (wanting hot food for dinner that night, we cooked). I also got to try out Mark's (Iron Man's) bike, a special type of bicycle made for riding in "extreme conditions --" gravel, snow, etc. This model was made by Surly and called the Moonlander, and featured 4" wide tires at 4 psi. It rode like a semi with jacked up suspension. It was awesome.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We awoke the next morning to frost on the fly and got going early, around 8:30, with 60 miles to do and a constant headwind. Google maps kept us on gravel roads for about 25 miles. We were put on some roads with "Level B Maintenance," which I think means "we don't touch it unless a tree falls on it, and then we just leave a chainsaw nearby," but they were actually packed dirt and not gravel, so an easy ride. At one point we were told to turn on a road that dead-ended into a cow pasture, so had to ask for directions. This sort of thing continued until lunch.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DZBlywYGKlU/UJFzNmvE67I/AAAAAAAAAss/zha-JsAEuVU/s1600/IMG_7072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DZBlywYGKlU/UJFzNmvE67I/AAAAAAAAAss/zha-JsAEuVU/s320/IMG_7072.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Lunch changed everything.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We happened to pass by some fields owned by Iowa State University, which was 200 miles away in Aimes, IA. But hey -- no complaints. They had a picnic area shielded from the wind and picnic tables in the sun. Just as we were getting ready to go, a gentleman in a picnic pulled up. He happened to have a state road map with him (THANK GOODNESS) so from there we dropped Google's directions and only had to do 3 miles of unpaved road for the rest of the day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That unpaved road was quite the ride... but oh well. See, after lunch, the wind picked up to 10-16. Also, unpaved roads are ungraded, so they hit 20% grade easy... and also I have tires made primarily for riding on pavement. Lisa had no problem on her cross bike, however.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We made it into Iowa City around 8, and our hosts were happy to have us. They understood our needs exactly: "Sit. Eat."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anne and Larry are fantastic. They own at least ten bikes between the two of them, bike to work every day, and have a huge garden. For dinner we had omelettes with all the ingredients either from their garden or bought locally; for dessert, homemade pie. They graciously offered to let us take a break day in their home, which was much needed after 61 miles into a headwind, 20 of which were on gravel roads, and three hours of which had the wind at 16 mph. So here we are... relaxing... updating blogs... reading... enjoying the Midwest. Oh, and did I mention we're only about a 7 day ride from Minneapolis?*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'll just leave you with that.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHaDQWBsCDw/UJF1DMtc5FI/AAAAAAAAAs0/2TbY2HME9BA/s1600/IMG_7079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHaDQWBsCDw/UJF1DMtc5FI/AAAAAAAAAs0/2TbY2HME9BA/s320/IMG_7079.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*We're about 300 miles from Minneapolis, which we could chug out in two or three days if we really wanted to. We encourage you not to underestimate the cold, the wind, or the hills, however. Also, Lisa is still getting into the swing of things. So we're going to take our time. Sort of. It is going to get <i>super </i>cold eventually. And possibly snow. Hm.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-16699005286646845612012-10-28T20:00:00.000-07:002012-10-28T20:11:06.184-07:00St. Louis, MO to Bowen, IL: Bad Luck, Good Luck, and GeneSo Lisa and I didn't have the best luck right off the bat. For starters, her bike was missing a few things -- not that they weren't there when she bought it, just that the shop that boxed her bike for shipping, you know, <i>forgot </i>to include them in the box.<br />
<br />
The first thing that was missing was her front quick release. For those of you who aren't terribly bike-savvy, a quick release essentially holds the wheel onto the frame of the bike -- you can't ride without it, at least not without a lot of luck. So after enjoying a complimentary breakfast (okay, hotels are expensive, but at least they give you free food) I took off to the nearest bike shop to barter for a quick release. Fortunately, they had one. Many bike shops don't carry them as they are <i>supposed </i>to come with bikes of the floor, so I consider that we got lucky.<br />
<br />
The second thing that was missing is hard to describe in detail; let it simply be said that she didn't have a front brake. That was something we could live without (as the bike had a working rear brake). I asked the feller who sold us the quick release if they had this part, but they didn't.<br />
<br />
Anyways, I got back to the hotel just in time to get Lisa's bike in working order. We packed up, and took off.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-deb-o4f_aWU/UI3QDlblGeI/AAAAAAAAAm4/2v2YYzxNp7I/s1600/IMG_6839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-deb-o4f_aWU/UI3QDlblGeI/AAAAAAAAAm4/2v2YYzxNp7I/s320/IMG_6839.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Lisa rides a bike!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We essentially decided that we couldn't get far enough out of St. Louis for dependable stealth camping given the late departure, so we would instead bike the 15 mile ride to Rachel's apartment, and spend the rest of the day in St. Louis. Thanks again, Rachel!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, it rained. A LOT. So my rain gear was put to the test for the first time since Colorado. Er, there were some lame rains in Kansas, but no pours. It poured. By the time we got to Forest Park (a huge park right in the middle of St. Louis), though, it was beautiful out. Don't know how that worked out, but I'm not complaining. We also had some time to kill until Rachel got out of class, so we stopped in front of the art museum (which looks more like a castle, complete with fountain) for a nap.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AV-A0xgnMKk/UI3R8guj-0I/AAAAAAAAAnA/HwHoVu3fu0k/s1600/IMG_6851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AV-A0xgnMKk/UI3R8guj-0I/AAAAAAAAAnA/HwHoVu3fu0k/s320/IMG_6851.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Our bikes napped too. Also my sister broke her ankle on that hill over there.</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Small world, right?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Before arriving at Rachel's we stopped at a bike shop and got Lisa's front brake working again. Yay. After dumping our stuff we took the Metro (light rail) to the riverfront (where the St. Louis Arch is located) and walked to the arch. It is possible to take egg-shaped elevators that curve their way up to the top of the arch, but apparently they sell out about 3:30 every day. We didn't arrive until 5, so they had been sold out for a while. I've been to the top of the arch before; Lisa had not. She was disappointed and insisted this was "just her luck" along with the issues with her bicycle.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We did enjoy the weather though.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ca9Pa-VWnJs/UI3TTkwuZRI/AAAAAAAAAnM/Wl3hzeKsybk/s1600/IMG_6859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ca9Pa-VWnJs/UI3TTkwuZRI/AAAAAAAAAnM/Wl3hzeKsybk/s320/IMG_6859.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I see it! I see the arch!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Since we didn't get to go to the top of the Arch, we opted to walk around a bit. We encountered a cobblestone street and decided to walk down it, at which point we found an Old Spaghetti Factory inside a really cool building. Dinner, check.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vtR6ybJw4ic/UI3VQnCD8MI/AAAAAAAAAnU/JvR8za1y7So/s1600/IMG_6862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vtR6ybJw4ic/UI3VQnCD8MI/AAAAAAAAAnU/JvR8za1y7So/s320/IMG_6862.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Awesome building, check.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Apparently it used to be an old hotel. Anyways -- win.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We took the metro back and promptly crashed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning we said goodbye to Rachel and went on our way, for real this time. All was well until just before we stopped for lunch, when Lisa's bottom bracket (the part where the pedals connect through the middle of the bike) started making a racket. If you take a spoon and bang it against an empty tin can repeatedly, that's about the sound it was making. I did the best I could to diagnose the problem without a full set of tools, and decided that nothing would break further -- she'd just have to live with the sound until we could get it looked at.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A few hours later we made it to St. Charles, MO, just south of the Mississippi River crossing into IL. Lisa decided she'd had enough, so we attempted to stop at the bike shop in town, only to find that they were moving. Not closed... moving. So had we been a few days earlier or later, we would have been fine. Lisa attributed this to her bad luck as I went around the parking lot (full of bicyclists, luckily) asking for tools. With no luck, I sat down and promptly got stung by a bee.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, neither of us were really having a great day at that point.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we met Steve and Rob.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C3WRjb8MXvA/UI3YUvngxFI/AAAAAAAAAn0/SihsEhwH5eU/s1600/IMG_6874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C3WRjb8MXvA/UI3YUvngxFI/AAAAAAAAAn0/SihsEhwH5eU/s320/IMG_6874.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
What's up guys.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They drove us to a nearby bike shop that had the proper tools, and we found, lo and behold... lack of grease. Thanks, Raleigh (the company that made Lisa's bike) -- a notorious problem you have yet to fix.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Things turned up from there. Steve and Rob were good company and, while they didn't have a place to stay, they did point us to a nearby campsite that recently opened. We got directions from the bike shop and paid only $10 for the night. Aside from the good company, biking with someone else is good 'cause you get to split things like lodging fees... so check $5 that night for me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HR3B7Z2cu0U/UI3iLhL6cpI/AAAAAAAAAoU/aA9Qhfmk2cQ/s1600/IMG_6877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HR3B7Z2cu0U/UI3iLhL6cpI/AAAAAAAAAoU/aA9Qhfmk2cQ/s320/IMG_6877.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
They had some pretty cool art, too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also -- when leaving the bike shop we stopped to talk to a woman interested in bicycle touring. She showed up at our campsite around 7:30 (it was dark) with her husband, saying she was worried about us and wanted to make sure we had a place to stay. Apparently they had driven around for a bit hunting us down... it was pretty ridiculously swell. We assured her we were okay, and talked for a bit before saying goodbye. Thus ended day 1 with Lisa. A good ending to a not-so-good start.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day was pretty standard, except that it was windy in the morning. We took the ferry to Illinois... it was a pretty cool ferry. The engine compartment could detach and rotate from one end of the cargo float to the either depending on which direction the ferry was headed... I was impressed. Some engineer somewhere knew what he was doing. Or he just wanted to design something awesome. Or both. *ahem*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LD4uwln3AiQ/UI3j1PaNBvI/AAAAAAAAAog/7ConyTy0VXs/s1600/IMG_6893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LD4uwln3AiQ/UI3j1PaNBvI/AAAAAAAAAog/7ConyTy0VXs/s320/IMG_6893.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Excuse me while I turn around half the ferry.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There was, sadly, no "Welcome to Illinois" sign. I mean, that's okay. We hadn't thought of a pose yet. So we rode on. The Mississippi River Road was supposedly a direct route up the riverside, but it was also very hilly, so we only stayed on it for about 15 miles (PS -- from St. Louis onward we were making up our own route using road maps) before cutting over to the Illinois River. The rest of the day wasn't terribly exciting so I won't write too much about it -- just know that we saw lots of houses on stilts (presumably for when the river floods) and an old showboat. Lisa was pretty exhausted so we found a place to camp about five. The timing was perfect as there was a torrential downpour just a few minutes after we got the fly up, so no complaints from me. Anyways... thus ends day 2 for the Lisa-Kyle team.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BoIb_2dQs8c/UI3lFiy0MBI/AAAAAAAAAoo/7amm2knTAXs/s1600/IMG_6908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BoIb_2dQs8c/UI3lFiy0MBI/AAAAAAAAAoo/7amm2knTAXs/s320/IMG_6908.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Day 3 started well.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Day 3 was pretty standard except that Lisa had her -- well, her hump. See, every cycle tourist hits a hump at some point. It's a bit difficult to explain, but essentially, bicycle touring is as mentally challenging as it is physically, and usually a percentage of the way in, the tourist wants to give up. It happened to me in Oregon. It happened to Lisa. I don't blame her; it was a good day for a hump to prevail. Cold. Windy. The timing was perfect as far as time without having showered, without having contact with the outside world... anyways, you get the picture. So that morning was sad. I tried to remember if there was anything anyone could have said to me during my hump that would have made it better, and I couldn't. I think it's just something that has to be pushed through.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or you have to meet someone. For me it was the Bosnians. For Lisa it was Gene. Gene comes later.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That day we passed through a town called Griggsville. Griggsville liked birds.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-efL8_y4fglo/UI3oCUeoYKI/AAAAAAAAApI/ckkj82OJj18/s1600/IMG_6911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-efL8_y4fglo/UI3oCUeoYKI/AAAAAAAAApI/ckkj82OJj18/s320/IMG_6911.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
So many birds.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh and the grocer gave us free bananas because "they were going to be overripe soon" and free grapes because... okay, I didn't actually catch a reason for that one.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We stopped at the library to arrange some warmshowers stays, and then went on our way.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our goal for the night was a city called Mt. Sheridan, IL. A while ago we had tried to set up a warmshowers stay, to no avail -- both nearby hosts were busy... or something. One of them informed us there was free camping north of town, though, so no problem... except for the cold. Lisa did not like the cold. We stopped at a corn dog stand on the way into town to get a snack before making camp, and I dropped the hint that we were looking for a place to stay. We weren't hopeful, and didn't find a <i>house </i>to stay at, but the corn dog stand did let us sleep in their bathroom.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You heard me. We slept in a bathroom. It was actually a very nice bathroom -- for all intents and purposes, it was just a 10'x10' room. Oh, and it was heated. That's why we accepted. Actually, we were woken up multiple times because it was <i>too hot.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
So, that happened.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, and we had left to let them close so we didn't take the bathroom from their customers. When we got back, they had some leftover food. So we didn't have to cook dinner that night.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rme_RQn1qZ4/UI3te1nF4qI/AAAAAAAAApo/ptbl3qaulFk/s1600/IMG_6918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rme_RQn1qZ4/UI3te1nF4qI/AAAAAAAAApo/ptbl3qaulFk/s320/IMG_6918.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Um, yum.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For the first night since I can remember I wasn't able to finish all the food I was offered.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Quick, everybody go "like" The Corn Dog Stand on Facebook!<br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/TheCornDogStand">http://www.facebook.com/TheCornDogStand</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
From there we had two days to do 72 miles into Keokuk, IA, where we had a warmshowers stay. That's only 36 miles a day, so we took it pretty easy, stopping in Camp Point for about a two hour lunch break, listening to everybody stop at Casey's (the gas station/general store franchise of the Midwest) and talk about the upcoming high school football game. Apparently that's the thing to do in Illinois. Go to high school football games.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We made what was supposed to be a quick stop at Bowen, IL before continuing on to finish our 36 miles. It was only about 2:00 and we were intent on continuing forward, but then we met Gene. He said it was only about 25 miles to Keokuk, and I double-checked the map -- correct! Must have measured wrong that morning... anyways, this was important because suddenly we were okay with stopping! And then Gene offered us a place to stay. He had some land two miles outside of town, and showed us the way. Oh, and then we went fishing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YEUI2l9rtfU/UI3vFEbyKbI/AAAAAAAAAp0/Kjlshm8eNGA/s1600/IMG_6926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YEUI2l9rtfU/UI3vFEbyKbI/AAAAAAAAAp0/Kjlshm8eNGA/s320/IMG_6926.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Yea, come sleep in my field and fish in my lake."</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
It's, like, a thing.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We all caught one fish -- okay, Gene caught the first, Lisa the second, and it took me an hour to catch a third, which wasn't even big enough to eat. Lisa then filleted her bluegill, and then walked me through how to filet Gene's bass. Yes... I can filet a fish now. All the while the three of us entertained each other. It was swell. Then there was a fire.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VE98ArRqcx0/UI3wbxnbldI/AAAAAAAAAp8/cDgBEnbqEoQ/s1600/IMG_6930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VE98ArRqcx0/UI3wbxnbldI/AAAAAAAAAp8/cDgBEnbqEoQ/s320/IMG_6930.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And PUPPY (named Rocky).</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For an appetizer to our usual just-add-water pasta, we cooked the fish over a fire. Gene stuck around for a bit before taking off; shortly after, Lisa and I took off to bed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then in the morning -- no, wait... that will be part of the next post.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think some thank yous are due at this point. Corn Dog Stand -- thanks. Gene -- thanks. Oh, and the people hosting me while I type this, Stephanie and Bill -- thanks.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
More soon!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
K-dawg... out.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-12183451810313390012012-10-22T14:55:00.002-07:002012-10-23T20:26:00.528-07:00Jeff City, MO to St. Louis, MO: Slow going at the EndSo, it's been a while since my last update, and yes, I've only (...?) made it to St. Louis. I do have a few updates and wanted to give them in order to stay on top of things, but long story short, I'm still waiting for Lisa. She gets in today! I am very excited.<br />
<br />
So I think I may have mentioned this previously, but I know I didn't post a picture. One of the cool things about the Katy Trail (formerly known as the Missouri-Kansas Trail, or MKT, by the way) -- aside from the fact that it's, you know, 260 miles of fairly well maintained fairly flat bicycle trail -- is that there are stations. I doubt if they are all the same building that was there when the train was running in the 1970s, but either way, the idea is pretty cool. There's tons of facts and history about the trail and the city you're passing through, including places to visit (and eat!) and maps of the trail and the area.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IecOVWS-DpI/UIW4kLU5HvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/Bux9eNiyt6g/s1600/IMG_6804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IecOVWS-DpI/UIW4kLU5HvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/Bux9eNiyt6g/s320/IMG_6804.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
In case you missed it, this photo was taken from Tebbets, MO.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just wanted to share.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, I left Jeff City nice and early, not wanted to bike in the dark that day, as I knew I had some highway riding to do towards the end. The Katy Trail greeted me with open arms, and all was back to normal. I mean, if you consider riding 50+ miles a day normal.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Admittedly, nothing terribly special happened that day. I did discover that Missouri doesn't have any no-smoking laws when I stopped at a bar for lunch. The chili they had was delicious though, even if it came with a slight smell of smoke in the background.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I made it to the MKT station at Dutzow, MO where my warmshowers host was to meet me that night. He had said he was going to "escort" me across the bridge. I wasn't quite sure what that mean, but I did know the bridge was busy and marginless, so I was okay with it. That was the original plan, anyways -- after telling me a few harrowing stories and really pushing the busyness and lack of margin of the road, I was convinced to let Jerry give me a ride. He also offered to give me a ride back to the trail the next day, so technically I would still be biking the whole way (the original plan was to get on MO-100 straight from his house, not to take the trail to St. Louis).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, it was nice to have two hours off that I thought I was going to spend pedaling. Jerry and I spend the rest of the night talking about everything from gardening to woodworking to photography to boomerangs. Okay, admittedly, he did most of the talking -- roughly 98% of it. The company was nice, regardless. And oh yea, I can throw a boomerang now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day I took off from the MKT Dutzow station about 9:30 AM, much earlier than I had anticipated as I only have 55 miles or so to do that day. I never object to getting an early start though. And also, it was a nice morning.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zZmMRSCwVO8/UIW5OphVolI/AAAAAAAAAls/d8SqyOB04hI/s1600/IMG_6809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zZmMRSCwVO8/UIW5OphVolI/AAAAAAAAAls/d8SqyOB04hI/s320/IMG_6809.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Lots of views were had that day.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Almost immediately after taking off, a fellow named Bob caught up to me. Bob was from St. Louis and was out on his weekend ride. We talked away about 15 miles (and this time it was closer to 50/50) and ended up trading contact information before he took off. He hadn't started in St. Louis, but in another city called *ahem* about 30 miles west. After seeing him off, I stopped for lunch at a bar just 50 feet away from the MKT station there. There were no smokers in this one, and the prices were good -- I paid $12 for a burger, two orders of fries, and a 9" pizza. Uhuh.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't know what magic happened that day, but after leaving the bar, there were a lot more people on the trail. I think it was a combination of the weekend, the weather, and the proximity to St. Louis. In any case, I had a few good conversations, and about 1 PM, 2 hours ahead of schedule, got to cross the Missouri River again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qi6jy9Roe5c/UIW-LPHCbSI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/1minJgGsS3s/s1600/IMG_6817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qi6jy9Roe5c/UIW-LPHCbSI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/1minJgGsS3s/s320/IMG_6817.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Only after going up the super awesome bicycle elevator to the top of the bridge.</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Yea, that would have been cool.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was a pleasant ride to Creve Coeur Park, which included a lake and a shared use path all the way around. It reminded me a little bit of my bike rides around Lake Harriet while home in Minneapolis... but I wouldn't be home for another two weeks. In any case, I stopped and had lunch on the beach, and then continued to weave my way through the St. Louis suburbs before finally getting to my destination for the day:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HhJG7ujNwOE/UIW_We46vrI/AAAAAAAAAmY/d_cE1pKk03w/s1600/IMG_6824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HhJG7ujNwOE/UIW_We46vrI/AAAAAAAAAmY/d_cE1pKk03w/s320/IMG_6824.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
RACHEL</h4>
<div>
(not Lisa) -- okay, Rachel herself was not the destination, but her dorm room was. Rachel is a friend from college who is currently enrolled as a graduate student in the OT program at Wash U. She graduated from UPS a year before me, so we hadn't seen each other in quite a while and were happy to be reunited. I spent two nights there, so we also had ample opportunity to check out the dining in St. Louis's Central West End. This included a restaurant called "Pi," (yes, like the ratio of a circle's diameter to it's circumference), one called "Crepes, Etc.," for dessert, and a fancy-ish sushi place that we accidentally went to during happy hour, meaning anything on the Happy Hour menu was half off. Score.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Today (Sunday, 10/22) I left Rachel's to bike to a hotel in Maryland Heights. Lisa's flight just landed, and she's on her way! So we'll spend the night building her bike (she had it shipped to the hotel), splitting our stuff weight-wise, and watching a movie. We were originally going to head into Illinois tomorrow, but we've decided instead to visit the Arch and the City Museum, so we'll be heading back to Rachel's tomorrow. I'll update from Illinois in three or four days. 'Till then -- go watch the debate!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-85754623323314201602012-10-18T15:26:00.000-07:002012-10-18T15:41:11.718-07:00Osawhatsitcalled, KS to Jefferson City, MO: Murder Cabins, Capitols, and CouchesOkay, so when we last left off, I had just stuffed myself to near-explosion status with Chinese food, and then I had biked 50 miles to Osawatomie, KS, 20 miles from the Kansas-Missouri border. Not the best combination ever, but hey, I wasn't about to turn down a buffet.<br />
<br />
As I was coming into Ross's (my host's) house from the south, Tim came in from the north. The timing was uncanny. Actually, he had passed Ross's house, so we were a bit confused about where it was, but we did find it eventually. Ross and his parents were great hosts, and they even had air mattresses that didn't leak (those of you that have leaky air mattresses, well, you know who you are). So that night was a night of story sharing between Ross, his parents, Tim, and myself. It was a good night. The next morning we awoke to the smell of a most excellent breakfast:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8zyBIdJ3IL8/UIBvlkx43AI/AAAAAAAAAjc/CQejYjqTwe8/s1600/IMG_6751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8zyBIdJ3IL8/UIBvlkx43AI/AAAAAAAAAjc/CQejYjqTwe8/s320/IMG_6751.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Moms are awesome.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So let's see, that's sausage, eggs, yogurt with granola and strawberries, and waffles with homemade blackberry syrup. Yea... it was a good morning.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Right before heading out, Tim broke his sunglasses. Fortunately, Ross's mom had a spare pair of green aviators, so Tim became Tim the rock star. Unfortunately that photo didn't come out too well, but I'm sure you'll be able to pick him out in a future photo. In any case, we took off for Missouri. About mile 15 of that day, we passed a cider mill, and gratefully stopped for cider. Oh, and fresh donuts too. No big deal.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D3qLx3VxMGo/UIBxubArSDI/AAAAAAAAAjk/UroC6H6LyNg/s1600/IMG_6758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D3qLx3VxMGo/UIBxubArSDI/AAAAAAAAAjk/UroC6H6LyNg/s320/IMG_6758.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
A LOT of donuts. Infinite donuts.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, so it was actually pretty great. You could watch them make donuts through a window in the side of the room, and when they came out of the oven they'd put them on a metal tray, and carry the metal tray to the glass display in front of the register (yes, the same display in the photo), and from there they'd put them in a bag and give them to you. I hadn't had cider nor cider donuts in a while, and it was the perfect fall day for it, so this was really quite the treat. Tim had never had cider donuts before ever -- apparently it's not a thing in Germany -- and he wasn't terribly impressed, but he is always happy to expand his knowledge of American culture.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After enjoying half a dozen donuts each (at $0.50/piece, no less), we continued on our way. I admit I saw a sign that said "State Line 4" and thought maybe it was the fourth state line... like... if you label the sides of a four-sided state as you might the quadrants of an xy-plane in mathematics... but I decided if I was wrong about that it would be embarrassing Sure enough, four miles later (*ahem*),</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nAZEGBiHimI/UIBztueCh7I/AAAAAAAAAjs/rgdUrcQlU8w/s1600/IMG_6761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nAZEGBiHimI/UIBztueCh7I/AAAAAAAAAjs/rgdUrcQlU8w/s320/IMG_6761.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I think I'm setting too high a precedent for awesome state line photos.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Interestingly enough, as soon as we got into MO, the quality of the roads decreased almost instantly. They were still rideable, but once a mile or so there would be huge holes in the margin, forcing us into the middle of the road. Fortunately the roads weren't too busy. It was also quite windy that day, blowing 10-16 with gusts up to 20, from the south. This wasn't too bad, and was much better than having the wind coming from the north, as it meant we didn't get face-slapped by any passing semis. The road did turn south a few times, which was painful, but hey... win some, lose some.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After the cider mill, it was a pretty standard (albeit windy) day up to Harrisonville, MO. It was 40 miles into a 95 mile day, and about 3:00. We weren't feeling like we could crank out the other 55 by dark, but wanted to do so, as the next was to be a 100 mile day into Jefferson City (in retrospect, I don't know why we were pushing ourselves so hard -- perhaps for the promise of a place to stay, and a break day, in Jeff City). We were getting ready to go after lunch when someone came out and started talking to us. We told him about our trip and that we were planning on taking the Katy Trail when he said, "Oh! Well, I've got a cabin in Sedalia. Would you like to use it?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*jaw drop*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Only if you've been on a bicycle tour do you expect this sort of thing. Anyways, he handed us the key, and off we went. We made it about 9:30, well into the dark of the night, but it was okay, because we had a place to stay.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JvSvY11NF6g/UIB2wTyQl3I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/cy-3DKE69iU/s1600/IMG_6770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JvSvY11NF6g/UIB2wTyQl3I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/cy-3DKE69iU/s320/IMG_6770.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
A pretty sweet place to stay.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was a barn-turned-cabin, which was pretty cool. We were unable to figure out the hot water, so couldn't shower, but were grateful to have a safe, warm place to stay all the same. There was tons of bicycle art around, including a penny-farthing wine rack, a bicycle blanket... and more! Since we got in at 9:30 though, not much more story to tell. Oh, except we sort of thought he wanted to kill us in our sleep, so we slept upstairs with the bear spray close at hand.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Breakfast the next day was oatmeal and fruit, all of which we had with us (we did borrow some butter from the fridge -- thanks John!). Then we walked 10 yards to the Katy trail, turned left -- for all intents and purposes, our only turn for the day -- and began 100 miles of a fairly flat day.<br />
<br />
(and thanks, John, for the cabin. And for not murdering us in our sleep)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4M_DiUfRi74/UIB4ceaLVpI/AAAAAAAAAkY/1XqDsUuyR38/s1600/IMG_6771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4M_DiUfRi74/UIB4ceaLVpI/AAAAAAAAAkY/1XqDsUuyR38/s320/IMG_6771.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And colorful, too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The first part of the trail was pretty hilly, unfortunately. Actually, it <i>all </i>felt uphill... not sure how that works. The scat trail obviously wasn't as smooth as we were used to, which may have had something to do with it. Anyways, we made good time, keeping an average of 12 or 13, I believe (note: while one might regularly go 12 or 13, the hillier places have him or her going 5-8 uphill, so he or she averages more like 9).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We stopped in Boonville for coffee and road maps, which we didn't have yet (coming into Sedalia we stayed on MO-2 the whole time, and we were only on the Katy Trail after that). The only coffee shop was a local bakery where there was also a Bridge tournament happening. Learning to play Bridge is on my to-do list, and I had checked off a lot of other to-dos on the trip, but this one was not to be, not on a 100 mile day. I accidentally made lunch of the place, we talked routes for Tim past Jeff City, and then we went on our way.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The second half of the day was much flatter, being that the Katy follows the Missouri river once east of Boonville. You aren't always right along the river, but within 100 yards or so. In any case, when there wasn't miles of farmland, it was quite scenic. We passed a few cliff faces with caves... caving, again, is on my to-do list, but that will have to wait for another time (side note: apparently the St. Louis area has one of the highest cave densities in the world. The caves are significant for their natural coolness and thus ability to store alcoholic beverages before the spread of the refrigerator. The longest walkable cave complex is 22,000 feet end-to-end, which was allegedly used as part of the Underground Railroad).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We reached the Jeff City outlet about 8:30 and headed into town, foolishly believing we were done with hills for the day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lg4XKLjaCiY/UIB9OSKkXqI/AAAAAAAAAk4/ZYFnvIaVNfM/s1600/IMG_6782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lg4XKLjaCiY/UIB9OSKkXqI/AAAAAAAAAk4/ZYFnvIaVNfM/s320/IMG_6782.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Oops.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The ramp up to the bridge crossing actually wasn't that bad, as it was handicap-graded. I'm pretty sure we set a speed record on it simply because it was so nicely paved... but then we got to the city, which was hecka hilly. It was painful. But the end of the day was near! My sister has a friend in Jeff City named Ron, who was happy to host us. He even made noodle-hamburger galosh. Okay, I'm sure there's a better name for it, but it was improvised and delicious and filling and exactly what we needed, and that's the bit that matters. Thanks Ron!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tim and I both took the next day off, and decided to cook dinner for Ron as a thank you for hosting. I wasn't about to let go of the German I had with me without making good use of him, so I -politely- requested (and didn't at all insist) that we have something German for dinner. We settled on schnitzel and potato salad and after a trip to the grocery store got to work. Tim was the head chef, working from memory, and I was the assistant chef, working at his beck and call.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pxul6PQsCAk/UIB_HgOpvCI/AAAAAAAAAlE/3OcurnLuM6Y/s1600/IMG_6786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pxul6PQsCAk/UIB_HgOpvCI/AAAAAAAAAlE/3OcurnLuM6Y/s320/IMG_6786.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
You know it's going to be good when you get to beat it with a pan.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I didn't mention this, but earlier that week Tim's wheel had practically fallen apart. I put my mechanic skills to use and trued it enough to make it to Jeff City. We found that Ron had a truing stand, so I was able to finish what I started. Once again, thanks Ron! Oh, he also gave us a tour of the capitol building, where he works, which was awesome. It's apparently one of the most artful capitol buildings in the country. We also got to see the chamber of the House, the whispering room (where you can stand anywhere and speak in a whisper and anyone else anywhere else in the room can hear you), and the view from the spire on the outside of the building. Yea... it was pretty swell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day, Tim and I said our goodbyes, and he took off to finish his tour. My girlfriend, Lisa, was to arrive on Monday, October 22nd, in St. Louis, so I had a few days (read: 11) to kill. I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed or not, but I spent most of my time in Jeff City on the couch watching movies and How I Met Your Mother, one of my favorite TV shows. I mean, I had just biked 3600 miles, I needed to put on some weight... *ahem.* In my defense, my legs are still a bit sore as I type this. Obviously it wasn't long enough...?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
During the stay, I got a package from my dad containing a jacket and a new tire (thanks, Dad!), cleaned house for Ron, and did some yard work for someone on Craigslist. Nothing worth more detail, I don't think -- bottom line, here I am, day 9 in Jeff City, getting ready to go again. I'll spend the weekend in St. Louis with a friend from college, then Lisa arrives on Monday... and I finally get to turn north! Minnesota, here I come!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-49543298584082396462012-10-13T12:15:00.000-07:002012-10-13T12:15:06.651-07:00Great Bend, KS to Osawatomie, KS: Warmshowers all the WaySo this will be a good post. During this part of the trip, I met a lot of interesting and exciting people. Kansas got a lot more interesting (no offense to those I'd met already!), and to top it off, I have some extras for you. I'll start with one of those, actually.<br />
<br />
In an earlier post I mentioned that I had met Rattlesnake Jim, who, in his spare time, milked rattlesnakes and sold the venom to the government. I was skeptical about how the venom got turned into antivenom, but I recently read about the procedure, and it's pretty cool, so I'd like to share.<br />
<br />
After being milked from the snake, the venom is diluted and injected into horses, goats, or sheep. The immune systems of these animals are able to produce the necessary antibodies to keep them from harm. After the antibodies have accumulated, blood is extracted (which now contains the antibodies) and centrifuged to separate the red blood cells from the antibodies. The antibody solution is then purified into a powder (for oral consumption) or bottled (for injection). Notably, the animal antibodies may (and often do) induce an allergic reaction in the patient, but this is better than death or crippling.<br />
<br />
So there's your fun fact for the day. Back to my tour...<br />
<br />
I had just spend the night beside a church in Great Bend, KS. I slept pretty well despite being in the outskirts of a city, perhaps because there was a huge brick building on one side of the tent and a fence on the other. In any case, I was woken up at about 7:15 by the garbage truck, and took it as a sign that I might have overstayed my welcome. The citizens of the nearby suburb would no doubt be heading off to work soon, and I didn't want to freak anybody out.<br />
<br />
The good thing about big cities is this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBaKD1SXcoc/UHmtI-R7G4I/AAAAAAAAAhE/73aqZMMxnqM/s1600/IMG_6735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBaKD1SXcoc/UHmtI-R7G4I/AAAAAAAAAhE/73aqZMMxnqM/s320/IMG_6735.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Big donuts... small prices.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, there are a few other good things, like... things... that are good... honestly, when biking, big cities aren't exactly on your to-do list. But it was nice to have donuts for breakfast. Cheap donuts -- $0.50/piece is the cheapest I've found them so far. Usually they are $1.00 or a bit more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I also saw something interesting during my morning of city life:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Oq8EWGFnWw/UHmvRa6gFtI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/nmFSfQtaWlY/s1600/IMG_6736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Oq8EWGFnWw/UHmvRa6gFtI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/nmFSfQtaWlY/s320/IMG_6736.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Well, glad it wasn't my birthday.</h4>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had known about the helium shortage and it's impending doom for a while now, but didn't know when the crap was going to hit the fan. See, due to the 1996 Act, or the Helium Privatization Act, the US Government is required to privatize (sell to corporations) all of its helium reserves by 2015. That's really the only reason filling up a balloon is (and still is, despite rising prices) so cheap. I read somewhere that without certain regulations encouraged by the 1996 Act, it would cost about $45 to fill up a standard size birthday balloon (about 4.3 US gallons) with helium. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The short of it is that in the 1960s, the US Government was like "Dude, we can use this stuff to win the cold war!" So they bought a bunch of it. And then after the cold war they were like, "Dude, we're broke!" so they decided to privatize it. So then some corporation was like, "Dude, let's get rich!" so they lobbied like crazy and got the 1996 Act in place. So now we're going to run out of helium. Which isn't just used for birthday balloons, but also in MRI scanners, telescopes, and arc welders. So if you need an MRI, get 'er dun.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In my research for this tidbit I also came across California's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Balloon_Law">Balloon Law</a>, which I thought was interesting. It has to do with selling balloons such that they don't cause power outages by snagging on power lines. But you can read up that one on your down.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tequila is also in a similar situation, but that would be way off topic. All I'm sayin' is a basement full of the stuff might be a good investment.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That day was, by far, the windiest day of my trip. Remember how western Kansas looked all the same? Here's what that entire day looked like:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8IF3AEWaGYA/UGxu7X4VeqI/AAAAAAAAEHk/PIkROcouVP0/s1600/wind202.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8IF3AEWaGYA/UGxu7X4VeqI/AAAAAAAAEHk/PIkROcouVP0/s320/wind202.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Angry eyes included.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But seriously. It blew. And it blew. And it blew. Winds were 10-16 with gusts up to 24. And it blew from the northeast, which wasn't the worst direction it could have blown from, but it was about the 2nd worst. See, it wasn't a headwind (which would have been from the east), but it did blow from ahead <i>and </i>across the road, so every time a semi passed me I got thrown about a little bit. Semis coming head-on slapped me in the face with their drafts, often slowing me down by 3 mph or more. Semis coming from behind slapped me from behind and did often give me a noticeable push, but because they blocked the wind, it was tricky not to suddenly be steering into the middle of the road. In any case... it was a rough day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I called my warmshowers host around 1 to say I had 50 more miles to go. He said, "Great! So you'll be here around 5:30 or so" (dinner was at 6)! I laughed, telling him the wind was pretty bad. I got in at 8:30. Dinner was great. And as with many other hosts, Charles had great taste in art:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Il63DrnQUcc/UHm0Yo-L8MI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mjjT2MAu1Ok/s1600/IMG_6741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Il63DrnQUcc/UHm0Yo-L8MI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mjjT2MAu1Ok/s320/IMG_6741.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
In case you don't know, I have a thing for ducks.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was graciously invited to take a break day at Charles's house, but had already setup warmshowers for the rest of Kansas, and wanted to make it to MO so I could take an extensive break, instead of many short ones. I did allow him and his wife (and his dad) to have me for breakfast the next morning, which was delightful. It's always nice to have a homemade breakfast -- often when camping, "breakfast" means "bread with peanut butter." But that day I had eggs, toast, bacon, hash browns, coffee, and juice. Delicious! Thanks again to my host for both the good food and the good company.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had set up a pretty easy day for myself that day, as I knew I'd be worn out from the wind. I biked about 60 miles, 20 with a light (2-6 mph) headwind. I also spent the windy part of the day in the Flint Hills, which are the hilliest part of Kansas (and nothing compared to the Rockies), so I hardly noticed the wind. For the record, I actually like rolling hills. Even if you can't always keep your momentum, you almost always feel like you're making progress. I mean, to see this ahead of you --</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DVs05AXM5n8/UHm3gimeZOI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/tRSwwdGr3bM/s1600/IMG_6742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DVs05AXM5n8/UHm3gimeZOI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/tRSwwdGr3bM/s320/IMG_6742.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-- and then to look up again in half an hour or an hour, and see something completely different... it just makes me feel accomplished, I guess.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, I spent the night in Council Grove, KS, a gem of a town smack dab in the middle of the Flint Hills, complete with trees, lakes, and historical markers admitting that we pretty much screwed over the Indians that were there before us. My hosts for the night were, again, most gracious, and we had a nice chat about sewing machines and quilting. I even acquired some fabric with bicycles on it, with which I will complete my first quilting project, a pillow, upon arriving home. I'm pretty excited. And yea, you do acquire a lot of things while on tour... fortunately, anything not immediately necessary I have been able to mail home.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So once again I enjoyed a warm shower, a warm bed, and (always the best) warm company. The next day I took off for an 85 miles day with the wind at my back. My host had said, "This is one of those days we don't want people to know about;" indeed, it was the perfect day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bfda-aMYU2o/UHm74ElwdPI/AAAAAAAAAiw/uEkkbM9aXgE/s1600/IMG_6745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bfda-aMYU2o/UHm74ElwdPI/AAAAAAAAAiw/uEkkbM9aXgE/s320/IMG_6745.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The hills are alive with the sound of AWESOME.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nothing really to report on that day, except for the $6.25 Chinese buffet I found with the hilarious waitress. If you don't recall, I was off route at the time, and when you're off route people don't really know what to make of you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"You ride motorcycle, yes? That's why you have helmet?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"No, I'm on a bicycle actually."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"A bicycle! That's why you so skinny!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And, whenever you leave anywhere,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Be safety!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, most people you meet have perfect- or near-perfect English, but you get the point. Did I mention the $6.25 buffet?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yx6-S_0cCsU/UHm9KIVib4I/AAAAAAAAAi4/d9z4x3JKuZo/s1600/IMG_6747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yx6-S_0cCsU/UHm9KIVib4I/AAAAAAAAAi4/d9z4x3JKuZo/s320/IMG_6747.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Round 1: Everything.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Needless to say, I made it to where I was going that night.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-79486085685361191802012-10-11T16:53:00.000-07:002012-10-11T16:54:19.621-07:00Sheridan Lake, CO to Great Bend, KS: Oops, did I bike that far in two days?So I slept at a church for the first time in my life. They had hot chocolate and coffee, both of which my stomach gave a warm welcome to (or at the least, it wasn't cold after). It wasn't like a coffee shop or anything, there was just all the equipment in the kitchen, so I helped myself. For breakfast I went to the "C-Store." I'm not sure why it was called that -- I would have called it "the gas station --" but the food was surprisingly good. I'd even say it was restaurant quality... and the price wasn't bad either, at $8 for 2 biscuits with gravy and 10 french toast sticks. I was stuffed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vYRyMuc7zu8/UHdQ9n86bOI/AAAAAAAAAfE/VinKED3DQFM/s1600/IMG_6713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vYRyMuc7zu8/UHdQ9n86bOI/AAAAAAAAAfE/VinKED3DQFM/s320/IMG_6713.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Then I looked down.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When you ride a bike with fenders, you can't see the back tire at all. I had spent the whole trip staring at the front tire, which showed almost no wear. I had been meaning to check on the back tire, and when I finally did -- well, you can see what happened above. Those orange stripes you see are the weaving of the tire -- sort of like the lining of a coat. So I caught it just in time. I wasn't stranded though, I just swapped my tired and continued on -- the rest of the trip would toll on the old front tire, now the back tire, and the old back tire, now the front tire, could handle the relatively little load of being in front. My rear brake pads looked the same, but I had replacements for those.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All that maintenance took about an hour, and then I was on my way again. Sheridan Lake was just ten miles to the Kansas border, so it was early that morning when I stood on my head.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tdKFuSYUHyM/UHdTdpRg5fI/AAAAAAAAAfU/D8qcdv4sNUs/s1600/IMG_6722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tdKFuSYUHyM/UHdTdpRg5fI/AAAAAAAAAfU/D8qcdv4sNUs/s320/IMG_6722.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And that was the most fun I had in all of Kansas.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kansas was more of the same -- those photos you saw in the last post -- but admittedly, a little greener, and with more trains, and lots of trucks carrying oversize loads. I also met Terry, Stephen, and George, three retired folks who were biking from Oregon, where they were from, to St. Augustine, FL, sag-wagon style. Usually that means you'd have an extra person driving the car and all the gear, but they didn't have anyone who wanted to drive, I guess... so they would rotate out. I thought it was an interesting way to do things... and that's all I'm going to say about that. Regardless, it was nice to have company for a bit. They were the first cyclists I'd met since Francisco in Utah.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I made it to a town called Dighton that night (did I mention it was 104 miles?) and slept in the city park after checking in, via phone, with the city sheriff. I knew of this via the bicycle map I was using, so felt pretty good about the whole thing, and having a place to sleep and such. Unfortunately, the city park also had a grain silo next to it with a ridiculously loud ventilation system, so I didn't fall asleep until 10:30 or so. Then at 11:00, the wind picked up to 18-25, so I woke up and had to fully stake my tent. Between the vent and the wind, I didn't get much sleep.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So the next day pretty much sucked. I mean, it wasn't that bad, but the wind didn't go away, and I had a headache from lack of sleep. Tim did catch up to me so we could have lunch together, an $8 buffet in Ness City complete with fried chicken, so that was nice. I also found a road map at the city library and set up warmshowers visits for the rest of Kansas. My first was in a town called Hillsboro, about 20 miles east of McPherson, KS, a huge city located smack dab in the middle of the state.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qUkfW3q5qMU/UHdWhstQhWI/AAAAAAAAAf0/KI9vIPtEO_o/s1600/IMG_6733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qUkfW3q5qMU/UHdWhstQhWI/AAAAAAAAAf0/KI9vIPtEO_o/s320/IMG_6733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I also passed a bicycle oasis, but my bike wasn't thirsty.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I picked up the map because I was planning on going off route. See, the maps I was using wanted me to head southeast before going into Missouri, then across the better part of MO, and north into Jefferson City. This would have involved going through to Ozarks, a mountain (or large hill) range in Missouri, full of climbs that aren't very long, but ones that are very steep. Needless to say, that <i>wasn't </i>on my to-do list. So I decided to make my own route through Kansas, headed straight east to the Katy trail, a rails-to-trails done by the state of MO that runs about 260 miles into St. Louis. It would be flat and easy to follow.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case: Originally I had wanted to make it to Alexander, KS that day, the place where I'd depart the bike map's route and take my own. With the wind as it was, however, I knew I wouldn't make it to my homestay in Hillsboro unless I went a bit farther than usual that day. So I decided to bike to Great Bend, 96 miles from Dighton, where I'd started that morning. And I camped not in, but behind a church.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hey, the door was locked.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-awKr7Tq9R6M/UHdbYLSZ3ZI/AAAAAAAAAgc/1UfsoWobFhs/s1600/IMG_6734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-awKr7Tq9R6M/UHdbYLSZ3ZI/AAAAAAAAAgc/1UfsoWobFhs/s320/IMG_6734.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And the fence blocked the wind.</h4>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-16123417689226589072012-10-11T15:44:00.002-07:002012-10-11T15:44:39.939-07:00Salida, CO to Sheridan Lake, CO: Mountaineers, New Chains, and Long DaysAlright. So I had just taken a break day in Salida, CO with my friend-from-high-school Abbi Doyle.<br />
<br />
I was generally feeling like the tour was over and entered into the second half not really expecting much. Not in a bad way, just in a "I'm already satisfied" sort of way... like I'd be okay if nothing else exciting happened. I mean, I'm sure I thought that, but if I'd made it another month without anything happening, I probably would have gone crazy. So the universe, apparently, had other plans for me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rZUdXjpI6P8/UHczAEMAcbI/AAAAAAAAAcE/_QOhhemmaVI/s1600/IMG_6682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rZUdXjpI6P8/UHczAEMAcbI/AAAAAAAAAcE/_QOhhemmaVI/s320/IMG_6682.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And coffee too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning I decided to take off late as I had another host set up only about 50 miles away ("only 50 miles --" never thought I'd say that). Abbi and I got coffee and breakfast burritos at a local coffee shop that didn't take themselves too seriously, and played half a game of cribbage. She may or may not have won. Just by a few points. Maybe. A few.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, I was back on the road by about 11:30. I got to ride along the Arkansas River for about 30 miles. It was a nice way to get back into the swing of things after a break day -- all downhill! Of course, after I went downhill, I had to go uphill.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_HC359xmTQ/UHc0ZikVrkI/AAAAAAAAAcM/jdt-GDh0LuQ/s1600/IMG_6684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_HC359xmTQ/UHc0ZikVrkI/AAAAAAAAAcM/jdt-GDh0LuQ/s320/IMG_6684.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I wasn't the only thing that had gone up recently.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was a pretty standard day that day. I was a bit tired as my body was still trying to finish recovering -- the norm after a break day -- so took it easy. I passed some BLM land, which was reassuring, as I was worried that the farther east I went, the harder it would be to find places to camp (...wait for it...). I was also by myself, as K/T didn't take a break day in Salida, so they were a day ahead of me and on their way to Pueblo, CO that day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
About 5:00 I made it to my hosts' house -- or more, the turnoff for my hosts' house. The road up to their driveway was gravelly and uphill. Their driveway was rocky... and even steeper. I walked. But it was worth it. They were swell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mzuDFShxKyo/UHc24VPeCqI/AAAAAAAAAcc/rWe3LreodPw/s1600/IMG_6688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mzuDFShxKyo/UHc24VPeCqI/AAAAAAAAAcc/rWe3LreodPw/s320/IMG_6688.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Oh, and the view was swell too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They had a house on a hill that had been built by Harry, the husband. It was a log house with plants everywhere and roughly 180 degrees of windows. It was swell. And not for sale -- I may or may not have asked.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eQ2ZqRmL6Ew/UHc4QD-DGbI/AAAAAAAAAc0/Uz_OpHrz6iA/s1600/IMG_6692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eQ2ZqRmL6Ew/UHc4QD-DGbI/AAAAAAAAAc0/Uz_OpHrz6iA/s320/IMG_6692.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
They gave a wise answer.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, and did I mention that Myra was a mountaineer? She had climbed Everest. All the way up to the Hillary Step, at least. The weather was too bad to keep going. But hey, in my mind, that counts. Or at least, it's awesome. Oh, and she was sponsored. Yup. She climbed Everest for free. And kept the gear. She also can't wear the jacket because it's "too warm." But she had some good stories. In exchange, I offered touring advice, as bicycle touring was sort of on their to-do list. They had already climbed mountains, hiked, kayaked, built a house, and done everything else on their to-do list, so I'm sure they'll get to touring eventually. For my part, I continued on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day was uphill for about 5 miles, and then almost all downhill. Harry and Myra's was at about 7,500 feet, and after climbing to 9,000 feet, I descended to Pueblo, at 4,660. It was pretty steep at some parts, so I was glad not to have passed anyone and to have to tell them the bad news. Come to think of it, I hadn't passed anyone since I could remember (...future Kyle says, "since Francisco in Utah").</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vbWOJh4Xf9g/UHc7CWXNnfI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/FyrpC1pRw8U/s1600/IMG_6698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vbWOJh4Xf9g/UHc7CWXNnfI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/FyrpC1pRw8U/s320/IMG_6698.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I took this photo only for my dog.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Got into Pueblo about 3, which was great, as my host had said not to arrive until after 5:45 and I had some things on my to-do list. For starters, I found K/T at one of the local bike shops (and it's not often on tour you get to say "<i>one of </i>the<i> </i>local bike shops"). We caught up a bit and Tim and I plotted the next few days. Sadly, that was to be the last time I would see Ken, as his furlough was soon to end, and he had to get back to CA. Actually, I believe he first took a train to Chicago to see some friends, then flew home from there... but it doesn't really matter, does it. In any case, I also bought a new chain, as they are supposed to be replaced every 1500 miles, and I was well above 2500. Then I found a Little Caesar's for a bit of a snack, and went to the park to install my chain.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While I was there, I was approached by a homeless man who had been in a car accident, and we philosophized a bit about the human race's reliance on mechanized things. He said he refused to used vehicles from the day of his accident forward, and that he was started a revolution whose tagline was "Stop inciting senseless violence with noisy metal machines." I thought it was an interesting approach, but he planned to spread the revolution purely by word of mouth... in a park... in Pueblo. Despite that there is more than one bike shop in Pueblo, there weren't that many bikes. There were many cars. It was a cool idea. But... well, $0.02.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I headed to my warmshowers host, arriving just before he did, actually. His name was Rick, and he was a Fire Protection Engineer -- add that to my list of careers to check into when I get home. Oh also, he knew just what to provide for an appetizer:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-irfN63_lTVg/UHdAtS9PQUI/AAAAAAAAAds/eaJSw5-S-5k/s1600/IMG_6699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-irfN63_lTVg/UHdAtS9PQUI/AAAAAAAAAds/eaJSw5-S-5k/s320/IMG_6699.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
My favorite food. Chunks of it.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, so I don't like Brie, but the Munster and Mozzerela were delicious. For dinner there was stew. Beef stew. Delicious beef stew. I didn't eat all of it, and as a consequence I was deemed a "lightweight." In my defense, I had just had a break day, and then two 50 mile days, one of which was half downhill, and the other of which was almost all downhill. I wish I could have brought some with me though.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With Rick came the pleasure of getting up at 5:15 AM. Up to that day, all of my hosts had let me stay home alone if they'd had to leave for work, for which I was incredibly grateful. I think it was just fine and perfectly within his right for Rick to kick me out when he left for work, and anyways, I did 144 miles that day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You heard me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Had I not started at 6 AM that day, I also wouldn't have met Rattlesnake Jim. But we'll get to that in a minute. First, I biked in the dark. I had to visit two gas stations before finding one that had donuts. But sure enough, I found one. At about 11 -- so, 50 miles later -- I came across a town called Ordway. It seemed like one of those small, not-many-services, middle-of-nowhere places, so I decided to see what they had for food. Hey, sometimes you find some great food out in the middle of nowhere.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RcFAwuSiXVc/UHdGY6RwHxI/AAAAAAAAAeM/dLblkf-kixI/s1600/IMG_6700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RcFAwuSiXVc/UHdGY6RwHxI/AAAAAAAAAeM/dLblkf-kixI/s320/IMG_6700.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Hey look! Great food, in the middle of nowhere!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I suppose it would be unfair of me to say that Ordway was in the middle of nowhere. But that's a bit how it felt. Or at least, it was on the edge of nowhere. And the food was good. And priced right! -- a huge omelette, hash browns, toast, two biscuits with gravy (which were thick enough to, when cut in half, be four biscuits with gravy), and a 6" cinnamon roll for $11. Uhuh. Anyways. THAT'S when I met Rattlesnake Jim.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uef0pCDG9hY/UHdH0XUbPQI/AAAAAAAAAeU/OWHY-yFm1hs/s1600/IMG_6701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uef0pCDG9hY/UHdH0XUbPQI/AAAAAAAAAeU/OWHY-yFm1hs/s320/IMG_6701.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
He doesn't like photos. Neither do snakes. Get it?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rattlesnake Jim introduced himself as an emergency helicopter pilot. He had apparently just gotten off shift and somebody else had taken his place -- apparently they get calls once every five minutes. So either their radius was huge, or I was kidding myself about being on the edge of nowhere. Or Rattlesnake Jim was kidding me. I mean, he catches rattlesnakes in his spare time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Wait, what?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yea, apparently the government pays $100 for a 40mL bottle of rattlesnake venom. Somehow they use it to make an antidote. So in his spare time, about three times a week, Rattlesnake Jim goes rattlesnake hunting. Oh, and he uses his bare hands. No sticks -- he doesn't want to damage the scales on the snakes he catches. Anyways, he milks them, sets them free, and sells the venom to the government. He's participated in rattlesnake catching competitions too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So that's Rattlesnake Jim.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(also, something inside me is saying the government might use the venom to make, er, poison... unless the antidote is bacterial... but that's none of my business)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shortly after Ordway, <i>this </i>happened:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x1SU7_3Vjto/UHdKKou1ZyI/AAAAAAAAAec/DMMKJoBd8ts/s1600/IMG_6703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x1SU7_3Vjto/UHdKKou1ZyI/AAAAAAAAAec/DMMKJoBd8ts/s320/IMG_6703.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Over and over and over again. Or I don't know, maybe it was more of a constant thing.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For a while. A long while. I sort of wondered where Tim was as I could have used some conversion. He caught up with me about 5 that day. I passed through a few towns <i>actually </i>in the middle of nowhere -- who had no services -- before Tim caught up to me while I was taking a break in Ely. They farmed there. And... nothing else. I'm pretty sure, anyways. But there was free camping in the city park.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I didn't camp there. By the time I reached Ely it was already my longest day at about 104 miles, and if it was going to be my longest day, then I wanted it to be long, darnit! Also, I had a place to stay in Sheridan Lake -- there was a church there that offered free lodging to touring cyclists. So I took off, and spent the night in a church.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WotWL0FPqlI/UHdLkP5iBsI/AAAAAAAAAek/XtHz5MUE1_Q/s1600/IMG_6707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WotWL0FPqlI/UHdLkP5iBsI/AAAAAAAAAek/XtHz5MUE1_Q/s320/IMG_6707.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And entertained myself by taking artistic photos. Actually this one was an accident.</h4>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-15864263479757442552012-10-10T09:53:00.000-07:002012-10-10T09:53:18.829-07:00Hello from Jeff City!Made it safely into Jefferson City, MO last night to stay with Ron, whom I know through my sister. I'll be here until about the 20th or so, when I head into St. Louis to meet my girlfriend. Then we'll head north on the 22nd.<br />
<br />
So between now and then I'll be updating my blog, as (you all know) I am quite far behind. I'll also be doing some work on <a href="http://90bikes90days.org/">90:90</a>, preemptive graduate school hunting, and seeing if I can make a spare few dollars while I'm around. But the part you care about is that I'll be catching up on my blog. Expect the first post by tomorrow night!<br />
<br />
KUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-21473880563488895532012-10-05T15:33:00.002-07:002012-10-05T15:33:38.234-07:00Map UpdateA third of KS in one day?! Hes a speed demon!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ml283GQ5DrA/UG9gLbHymQI/AAAAAAAAALk/0k6Y5xMy-mc/s1600/DiProgressCrop!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ml283GQ5DrA/UG9gLbHymQI/AAAAAAAAALk/0k6Y5xMy-mc/s640/DiProgressCrop!.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />JMCookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16438319243734575056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-7234862189135347812012-10-05T14:52:00.000-07:002012-10-05T14:52:12.342-07:00Brief Kansas UpdateHello everyone,<br />
<br />
Typing today from the public library in McPherson, KS. Kansas is quite windy! Fighting a headwind all day today, my average speed is 9. Yes, 9... on flat Kansas. In any case, I'm going to focus mostly on pedaling, and will do a thorough update when I get to Jeff City, MO, where I'll be staying for a few days while waiting for some company (!). More then!<br />
<br />
KUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-12190476499755550512012-10-04T13:19:00.001-07:002012-10-04T13:19:05.065-07:00Map UpdateIn Ness City, Kansas today, one more state down!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dQ6sBwqn2tE/UG3u9wcHTFI/AAAAAAAAALU/Mjjj8C2GwU4/s1600/Di+Progress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dQ6sBwqn2tE/UG3u9wcHTFI/AAAAAAAAALU/Mjjj8C2GwU4/s1600/Di+Progress.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />JMCookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16438319243734575056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-13876501745597890062012-09-29T20:04:00.001-07:002012-10-11T15:56:18.726-07:00Montrose, CO to Salida, CO: Sickness, Stealth Camping, and Swords...ready to be all caught up?<br />
<br />
Me too.<br />
<br />
Wonder how long it will last.<br />
<br />
*ahem*<br />
<br />
So I spent the night at Rob and Robyn's in Montrose, CO, and stayed up late to update my blog (which you had better all comment on! I want to know what you think, and also, once I get caught up I might do a Q&A if people want... and/or special requests, like photos of objects or verbs). One of the cool things about warmshowers is that people tend to be very "hands off." We did talk for quite a bit, but at any point you want, you can say, "alright, need to go update my blog!" and people are cool with that. Of course, I think that talking and sharing stories are what really make warmshowers special, but at some point, everybody needs alone time. So I guess this is turning a little big into another warmshowers plug... no, you don't have to "entertain" or "play host --" just be yourself and leave out clean towels. I have been fed every stay so far. Usually I have been cooked for, once I convinced my host to help me cook, and once I "helped myself." But meals aren't required -- just a place to stay. Even a yard is fine.<br />
<br />
Okay, enough of a plug. Back to the story...<br />
<br />
Rob said pancakes would be out at 7:15. I woke up right at 7:15, as it ends up, but said "5 more minutes..." and then woke up at 8:15. So I did miss out on goodbyes, as R/R left for work at 8, but I did get to sleep in. Anyways, pancakes were left in the microwave for me (thanks Rob!), which I had four of (the big fluffy ones, too). I called K/T, who said I should start without them, so I did. After lubing my chain, which was completely dry from the rain yesterday, I looked back to see where I'd come from:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMGWgpHICCQ/UGec1jZ2jAI/AAAAAAAAAaA/IFdcSStT_QQ/s1600/IMG_6651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMGWgpHICCQ/UGec1jZ2jAI/AAAAAAAAAaA/IFdcSStT_QQ/s320/IMG_6651.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
They look so peaceful from far away.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was pretty satisfying. I knew I still had one hard climb left (...), but I had done one already, and it was sunny, so maybe this one would be better.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I started a climb to about 8500' and halfway up had to stop to catch my breath. I had also been breathing heavily up the stairs to Rob's guest bed. At first I thought my body was simply expecting hard climbs all the time, but then I realized I hadn't had altitude sickness yet. I was sort of hoping that I had just bypassed that stage... apparently it can take a few days to set in. In any case, that was my hardest climb for the day, and it was done in two hours, so no big deal.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I stopped in Cimarron at a convenience store for lunch, where I bantered with the husband and wife cashiers. It was swell. Anyways, I hopped on for another climb, this one longer, but not as steep. And pretty rewarding to boot.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MkrXZRvtBPU/UGeeNqQy-eI/AAAAAAAAAaI/jxQY4S4oXZA/s1600/IMG_6655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MkrXZRvtBPU/UGeeNqQy-eI/AAAAAAAAAaI/jxQY4S4oXZA/s320/IMG_6655.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The views, the views... Colorado, you're spoiling me. And ruining Kansas.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
From there it was all downhill to Gunnison, where I was planning on spending the night. I had contacted a warmshowers host who hadn't gotten back to me yet, so upon arriving, I turned on my phone and waited a bit for the data to process. Nothing. I had passed a few viable stealth camping locations headed into town, but didn't really want to go backwards, so I decided to "practice Kansas --" I called the parks district and asked if I could stay in the city park. That was illegal in CO, as it ends up, but Molly the receptionist directed me to some BLM land just outside of town, which worked great.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
BLM = Bureau of Land Management = Government Land = Taxpayers Land = Camp there legally for free.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Except oh, the next morning it frosted.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LyekwRJ4AXQ/UGefQlHasEI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/q5_OsSrltcc/s1600/IMG_6669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LyekwRJ4AXQ/UGefQlHasEI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/q5_OsSrltcc/s320/IMG_6669.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
But nothing froze shut so... it's k guys.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Since that night in Nevada when everything froze, I had learned to keep anything I didn't want frozen in my tent with me, so it wasn't too big a deal. The fly opened more like a door and less like a tent flap, which I found comical. I also had to lay it out to dry... sad. But anyways, a good night, and that morning a hot air balloon flew overhead. That's some kind of good sign or something, right? The "I'm alone" part of me worried it was a police balloon, but... well, I can hear you laughing already, so I'll just stop there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I did have to search around a bit for donuts, but I found them eventually.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
About 15 miles out of Gunnison, 5 miles before the impending highest-altitude-of-the-trip, I met North. He passed me and pulled over about 500 feet up. I assumed he needed to check something on his car, but he got out and held up some bottled water.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Water?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yes please!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, I didn't need water. I'm about 85% sure he knew that. It was good water. But mostly it was that good-vibe get-to-meet-people-ness I was going for. North was pretty cool. We philosophized for a bit, talking about the implications of offering water to a complete stranger, and accepting water from a complete stranger, and so on (Matt A., you would have really appreciated this guy). After about 15 minutes of bantering, we took each others' photos, and continued on our ways. It was swell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bRd10UyAT8w/UGeiD1w_ZfI/AAAAAAAAAaw/GSV4FHTHqKo/s1600/IMG_6673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bRd10UyAT8w/UGeiD1w_ZfI/AAAAAAAAAaw/GSV4FHTHqKo/s320/IMG_6673.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Did I mention we did silly poses, too?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Who knows if we'll meet again? Either way, I'm grateful for you, buddy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So after meeting North I continued on my way to Sargents, the city just before the 6% grade of my highest climb yet. I had lunch, including some food given to me by North and a cycle commuter named Carol earlier that day (thanks!). After some soaking in of the moment, there was nothing to do but start uphill.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had to stop a few times to catch my breath due to the altitude, but I won't make it out to be a dramatic story. It was 8 miles of 6% grade... nothing I hadn't done before.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After about two hours, I reached the top. Presumably the pinnacle of my trip, not just physically, but emotionally. I was more than halfway done -- the hard half -- had all the big climbs out of the way (one left of about 2000', then the rest of my ride will be below 1500' or so), and was standing on the Continental Divide. Or, sitting (see below). I don't know if it was the pinnacle or not -- we'll see -- but it felt pretty good. And oh, the downhill afterwords... I could have coasted all the way to my next warmshower.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUsfJLKL7-I/UGer-Ik_0fI/AAAAAAAAAbM/U2_cxZdVjCs/s1600/IMG_6678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUsfJLKL7-I/UGer-Ik_0fI/AAAAAAAAAbM/U2_cxZdVjCs/s320/IMG_6678.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
</h4>
<div>
I pedaled a little bit. But really... the rest of the day was 90% downhill. I made it to Salida about 5:30, I think, and to my warmshowers host, Harry and Mira, shortly thereafter. It was uphill to their house. *sad face.*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But Harry and Mira were great! They were both very humble, had a great sense of humor, and had good taste in food -- for instance, Harry had a wine cooler underneath the staircase. Or, perhaps we resonated so well because they shared my Minnesotan roots, having moved to CO a few years ago from St. Paul -- small world, I guess. I didn't take any photos of them or their lovely home, but it stands to be one of the best warmshowers I've had to date. Thanks, you two.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That night while updating my blog I was Facebooked (is that a verb yet?) by a friend of mine from high school, Abbi D., whose blog I had followed last year and who was, apparently, living in town at the moment. She had actually been in Telluride the same night I had, and was hosted by Rob and Robyn in Montrose about a week before I guested. Small world... again. In any case, I decided some catching up was due, so here I am, in Abbi's house in Salida, CA. But wait, there's more!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Aside from exploring the city (where apparently my mom, her boyfriend, and one of my sisters have all been before me, including my sister having won 4th place in a worldwide kayaking competition on the Arkansas River), we stopped at the farmer's market. It was a nice market, but there were some even nicer events. For starters, I was <i>given </i>a wallet made from bicycle inner tube by someone who makes things from recycled bike parts. That was pretty cool. I haven't switched over to it yet, but will probably do so when I return to MN. My current wallet is about 12 years old.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Second, I found the best book in the entirety of the planet. It's called "Practical Encyclopedia of Crafts." It's 500 pages of small print on how to do <i>everything </i>from woodworking to molding plaster to candle-making to copper engraving... the list goes on. For those of you who don't know me that well, I am a DYI-er whenever possible. I would rather have something I made myself than something I bought, even if it requires extensive labor. I've made desks, bed frames, soil sifters, bikes, rings, plaques, and so on. So I am ecstatic about returning to MN and reading this book cover to cover.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Third, this happened:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RHusYt0Vy5Q/UGeu4Eikt1I/AAAAAAAAAbo/Iowf0UQ4zh4/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RHusYt0Vy5Q/UGeu4Eikt1I/AAAAAAAAAbo/Iowf0UQ4zh4/s320/photo+(1).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The guy hiding behind the shield is me.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yea.. the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) was at the farmer's market. Basically, they exist to re-enact the 17th century... and they had loaner gear you could use for free. I have some experience with fencing ("light" swordplay), so they were impressed given it was my first time as a "heavy" (using a broadsword and armor, that is)... but I still got owned. I jumped between three or four different people, all wearing various kinds of suits of armor (some of which had been made by the wearers themselves), each teaching me something new. Each schooled me. But they were patient, friendly, and in general, pretty awsome. I had a blast. And I'm totally going to hang out with the SCA in Minneapolis when I get back.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thanks to Abbi for the photo.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, I'm finally caught up, and I have two more warmshowers in a row lined up... so with any luck, I'll stay caught up, at least until Kansas. There are few warmshowers hosts there, and in any case, I need to stop spoiling myself... sleeping in a tent has its merits too. For real though.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the mean time -- questions? About my bike, my stuff, the people I've met -- anything is fair game. Requests, either for photos or for things I should do? I'd love to hear from you if you're reading this.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
'Till next time, from Salida, CO. K-dawg, out.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-91839899215467461362012-09-29T01:50:00.002-07:002012-10-11T15:55:06.323-07:00Lewis, CO to Montrose, CO: Cold with a Chance of FreezingOkay, so when I last left off, I was taking a bath in a complete stranger's backyard. Did I mention that I had no idea any of that was going to happen when I woke up that morning? Yea... bicycle touring.<br />
<br />
Anyways, the next morning after packing up my things, I was invited in for coffee. Linda (the woman of the household) was just leaving to take Ben (the son) to school. She regretted that we didn't get to talk more, and I did, too -- maybe some other time? You never know, I guess (warning: small world story coming up (but not one involving Linda)). Anyways, David (the male of the house) and I chatted a bit over coffee. He offered to sell me some wool socks, as the part of the ride coming up was apparently deathly cold, and I only had one pair (thanks, dad!). I said I couldn't offer him a fair price on my budget, since I was doing most of my clothing shopping at thrift stores. But it was nice of him to offer.<br />
<br />
Before I left I thanked him again for having place to stay, and he said, "We love Jesus, so we try to live in his image." Honestly, I think that's great. I'm not particularly religious, but there is one thing I have learned about religion, which this trip is only affirming. It seems that all religions, and even most non-religions (atheism included), have one goal in mind: Love thy neighbor. It may come out in a less biblical sounding form, but I really think that -- whether it's god or God or your conscious or whatever wanting you to do it -- we should just care about and respect each other and offer help whenever we can, within reason. Maybe that's altruistic of me, but I think that the number one reason this trip is turning out so great is because of the kindness of others. And I don't just mean that they gave me physical objects, like food or even property to sleep on -- I just mean that they gave me company. And it has been swell. I don't rely on it, of course, but let's just say that so far, I haven't lost any faith in humanity.<br />
<br />
Okay, enough of the cheesy. My two cents are spent.<br />
<br />
So I left David/Linda/Ben's house (thanks again! I really do hope we meet again) and biked the ten miles into Dolores, where I assumed Ken and Tim (which I've started calling "K/T," if you haven't caught on in the last few posts) had gotten a motel for the night. It wasn't raining on the road, but it <i>was</i> doing the "I'm going to taunt you by raining on either side of the road" thing again, so I figured it would rain later that day. It was beautiful, yes, but still threatening.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bW35Eg-V0VY/UGal5cTmENI/AAAAAAAAAYE/I_Y0mNSTk6U/s1600/IMG_6628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bW35Eg-V0VY/UGal5cTmENI/AAAAAAAAAYE/I_Y0mNSTk6U/s320/IMG_6628.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Colorado is definitely contesting for the "most beautiful state" award.</h4>
<br />
I stopped by a hardware store looking for glove liners, as all I had were fingerless riding gloves and a pair of windproof-while-dry shell gloves (...), and yesterday the rain had gotten to my fingers a little bit. They didn't have anything that wasn't 80% or more cotton, so I said "Thanks, but no thanks." On my way out I noticed a bike shop across the street, which I thought was interesting, as it wasn't on my map. It was called "Lizardhead Cyclery" and had some cool art outside. Given the artistic demeanor of the place and my imminent need for an Underarmour top, I headed in.<br />
<br />
The place was empty.<br />
<br />
Okay, not empty, but when I asked for Underarmour, the guy said, "Nah, we just opened 6 months ago, so we really don't have much." They didn't have much, but the more I talked to him, the more I liked him. They had a few jerseys, a few bikes, and plenty of parts. So, had I been in the market for a derailleur or a chain, I would have been set. They also had some <i>really cool </i>recycled bike art, including a lamp made from a fork, some wind chimes made from derailleur cogs, and belts made from old tires. I was inspired, awed, and impressed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lJhAmat0Z9M/UGam_5lXTVI/AAAAAAAAAYM/NFQPDD-4w7g/s1600/IMG_6631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lJhAmat0Z9M/UGam_5lXTVI/AAAAAAAAAYM/NFQPDD-4w7g/s320/IMG_6631.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
So I know what I'm doing with my tires when they die.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As I started to head out the door, he said, "Are you touring?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yea..."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Oh... you must really need Underarmour then."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yea."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So he sold me his. Yes, he was ex-military and had brought his army issue sand-colored Tactical Underamour to work that day and sold it to me for $25. Win. Everybody go like Lizardhead Cyclery on Facebook right now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nTaNjq5jQSE/UGaohp8vNGI/AAAAAAAAAYY/qGdMr4b_ew0/s1600/IMG_6629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nTaNjq5jQSE/UGaohp8vNGI/AAAAAAAAAYY/qGdMr4b_ew0/s320/IMG_6629.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Did I mention AWESOME?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, after a rather abrasive stop at motel #1 ("Sorry, we can't tell you anything about any of our guests, not even if they were on bikes or waiting for you to find them"), I found K/T at motel #2, and we took off up the hill. It was about 35 miles to the top of Lizard Head Pass, I believe -- 10,222 feet, our second highest climb to date and our third highest of the trip. And of course, on the way up it started raining.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We stopped at a coffee hut for... well, K/T got coffee and sandwiches, I got a breakfast burrito. Mmm... I can never get enough of those on a cold, rainy day. We were freezing cold by the time we got there, roundabout mile 20 since leaving Dolores and mile 15 or so with rain and wind, so it was just about the best thing in the world to sit somewhere warm and eat something warm. Before leaving, K/T had contacted a warmshowers host, but they used this opportunity to set up a hotel, not wanting to be left in the rain should warmshowers not come through. Then we left, and then it started sleeting.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we biked 15 more miles in sleet and wind.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KFRoz3SRajI/UGapbVBOxKI/AAAAAAAAAYg/mmB2uU9avLo/s1600/IMG_6637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KFRoz3SRajI/UGapbVBOxKI/AAAAAAAAAYg/mmB2uU9avLo/s320/IMG_6637.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And had the summit been any higher we would have needed snow tires.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But we made it. Well, by then of course, K/T were well ahead of me... so, <i>I</i> made it. I was okay being by myself by then, of course... this was day 35 or so, so my resolve was sound and not wind nor rain nor sleet nor cold could break it. I have now biked Lizard Head Pass.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Coming down the pass was fine. It was, as we bicycle tourists say -- always with quotations -- "All downhill" (that's code for "It wasn't all downhill, but we told ourselves that to make it easier"). About ten minutes down I realized I couldn't feel my toes... not good. So I pulled over, tore off my socks, and lo and behold... they were alive.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(I don't have any photos of this part, but I'm guessing nobody minds)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For some reason I had decided to wear my sport socks that morning, which are "magic synthetic" fiber: They work great for what they are made for... they are not made to handle four hours of sleet. My toes had frozen together.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes... frozen together. There was enough moisture between them and not enough heat that I had to pick my toes apart before drying them. But yea, they were still alive. In any case, I dried them off with a towel, put on wool socks (did I mention "thanks dad?") and continued on my way.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then there was Telluride.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DED0UItaq9E/UGarajxCYQI/AAAAAAAAAYo/CtOz_4y_7UU/s1600/IMG_6642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DED0UItaq9E/UGarajxCYQI/AAAAAAAAAYo/CtOz_4y_7UU/s320/IMG_6642.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
This also goes in the "most beautiful state award" pile.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Telluride was swell. It was all color with snow at the top and the houses were colorful too. The city itself is actually off route 3 miles, so I started on my way, figuring K/T would be somewhere around. I got 2.5 miles before seeing an interesting guy pass by on a ledge. He was wearing an old-fashioned trapper's cap, among other unique clothing items, and then he said,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Are you Kyle?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yea...?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Wait there!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He came down and introduced himself as John, my warmshowers host for the night.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, okay.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Apparently, about half an hour ago, Tim had been looking lost, so John offered him directions... only to find Tim was his warmshowers guest for the night. They somehow stumbled into Ken, who was at a bike shop getting a new jersey, shoes, and other items not in my budget. Ken and Tim confessed to reserving the room, but said John should keep an eye out for me, and lo and behold... he found me!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we biked back out of town the 2.5 miles I had just come, and another quarter mile or so (uphill, but not as bad a hill as Winnie's house in Sausalito) to John's house. I met his wife, Suzanne, a DJ for the local radio show, and we had an experimental dinner. John and Suzanne get vegetables from a local farm, so they cook whatever they can with whatever they can -- this evening we had soup over bread with egg (all local, including the bread). The soup cooked the egg, so it was sort of an egg drop soup. It was (I thought) quite good, but of course, it wasn't enough. For the next two hours John and I played "Are you sure you want to keep feeding me?" before I was finally full. It was a good time. John then went off to bed, and Suzanne and I stayed up listening to music. The next morning I awoke to a note saying "Help yourself to whatever you like," which I did, leaving a thank-you note in return before heading out.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. It rained again, making Colorado 3/3 on rainy days. I made a pass at 8,300 feet or so, but that was, nowadays, nothing special (...). I didn't see Ken or Tim, but had received a text from them the previous night, so assumed all was well. John apparently had a warmshowers train with a guy named Rob in Montrose, CO, so I was all set up for that night (and any cyclists coming the other way who stayed with Rob were set up with John on their next night -- quite the system). Oh, there was one change I made that day...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7TJHVeXuXs/UGav65ZPraI/AAAAAAAAAZE/GopogxdH2R8/s1600/IMG_6649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7TJHVeXuXs/UGav65ZPraI/AAAAAAAAAZE/GopogxdH2R8/s320/IMG_6649.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Mmm... microclimates.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, so not the <i>best </i>solution, because after a few hours water does seep into the socks, and I don't have to spell out what happens after that. But your toes do stay dry for quite a while, and when they do get wet, at least they stay warm! Water can't keep cycling through your shoes, taking the heat with them. Just, you know, be sure to remove the Toe-Dri (R) every 24 hours or so...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, the point is that I was warm and toasty all day that day, despite the pouring rain. Okay, for the first half my hands were cold, but I finally found some glove liners that were only 20% cotton at a grocery store for $1 -- score! Not perfect, but I haven't regretted them yet. Also, the coffee shop there gave me a free cookie. I don't know if they felt bad or thought I was cute, but it really did help with the rain. You know, that whole sugar-makes-you... waterproof... thing... *ahem* (quick! Everybody go like Cimarron Books and Coffee House on Facebook!).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I could build up the whole "it rained a crap ton" thing but I'm not sure how to do it without writing a whole other paragraph. Plus I was all waterproofed up so it really didn't matter. I pretty much just felt badass.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Made it to Montrose just before 6. Texted K/T to no response, so went ahead and moved in with Rob and Robyn, my hosts for the night. They have apparently hosted more than 100 people between warmshowers and couchsurf, so we had quite the night sharing stories. Also, the week before they had hosted a tourist named Abigail D., who I know from high school... there's your "small world" story. Pizza for dinner, homemade apple crisp for dessert... you people really have to stop spoiling me; or, I need to stay in a tent more often...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's all for now! I'm currently in Salida, CO, two days ahead of the blog, but it seems like I'll be taking a break day tomorrow, so maybe I'll get all caught up... for real! Probably not, if history is any indicator. But it's fun to fantasize.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8577pcyQq_o/UGayfv3mIRI/AAAAAAAAAZk/qz2F3bH9hmQ/s1600/IMG_6648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8577pcyQq_o/UGayfv3mIRI/AAAAAAAAAZk/qz2F3bH9hmQ/s320/IMG_6648.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Rob has his priorities straight.</h4>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-10594637498971203632012-09-27T00:05:00.000-07:002012-10-11T15:54:21.755-07:00Hanksville, UT to Lewis, CO: Lakes, Rains, and BathtubsFor those of you just catching up, there have been two posts today, this being the second -- scroll down and read the first... well, first. And for once I'll be posting about the same state I'm in! I do want to get to bed though, so I'll still be two days behind... but I'm catching up!<br />
<br />
- - -<br />
<br />
So we decided to take a half-break day, given we'd just ridden 96 miles. We went to breakfast at the place across the street -- I don't remember what it was called, but I do remember that our waitress was a gal named Sharley, and that she was swell ("Excuse me while I have a senior moment, boys"). We got a 10% discount for staying across the street, which was also pretty swell. Anyways, we updated our blogs, got pizza for lunch ($1.95/slice at the grocer -- deal hunting is becoming a skill of mine), and headed off about 2, after two more cyclists stopped by the bench we were on outside the motel to say hi.<br />
<br />
Then we were back in desert land. It really wasn't fair. I mean, it was, because that's life... but we thought we were home free, and suddenly it was uphill into the wind both ways again. Oh, except that this time there were cliffs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t8tFRdZnTpo/UGPxLnFinAI/AAAAAAAAAWo/7W98uXsLt4w/s1600/IMG_6586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t8tFRdZnTpo/UGPxLnFinAI/AAAAAAAAAWo/7W98uXsLt4w/s320/IMG_6586.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Tall cliffs, too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I guess it wasn't exactly like Nevada.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, the longer we rode, the more surrounded by cliffs we became, until we were riding in a canyon again. Oh, and we also encountered a dust devil -- two that day, for a total of three for the entire trip. Something new for me (in NV I also saw my first tumbleweed... and we had a discussion about whether you could grow tumbleweed or if any plant was just called that once it broke off from its roots and started tumbling... anyone?).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You can tell we're in Nevada... er I mean, Utah, because this post is fairly event-less... so far I've talked about cliffs, dust devils, and tumbleweed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we got to Lake Powell, where we had decided to spend the night, swimming included:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Xng5TX7-0Q/UGPyCsNZUYI/AAAAAAAAAW0/Z7IGgUHN6_g/s1600/IMG_6588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Xng5TX7-0Q/UGPyCsNZUYI/AAAAAAAAAW0/Z7IGgUHN6_g/s320/IMG_6588.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Nobody told us it could still be a lake if there were cliffs all around.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We got in at dark and putzed around until eventually finding a spot on the, er, "beach." This was the first state park we'd ever been in where collection of firewood was allowed, so we took advantage of it and built a fire. Ken and Tim had splurged on some whiskey, so went to a nearby RV to get some ice. The RV folks then invited me over to get my story, and also donated some calories -- er uh, marshmallows and chocolate -- to the cause. As it was dark, we didn't go swimming, but we did stay up until 12:30 AM around the campfire, drinking whiskey and eating smoked salmon and steak. Yea, we were roughin' it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dxr-IR4BRwI/UGPy7L4XS-I/AAAAAAAAAW8/aocwR0UGKhY/s1600/IMG_6605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dxr-IR4BRwI/UGPy7L4XS-I/AAAAAAAAAW8/aocwR0UGKhY/s320/IMG_6605.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
It looks rough to me.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning we woke and searched for a place to go swimming, but anywhere there wasn't a cliff, it was muddy. Disappointed, we stopped at the general store for breakfast (sausage, egg and cheese croissant for $2.75? Okay! -- also, Tim bought some donut holes) and took off on a big hill. Did I say that right? It was a big hill. Not steep, just... long. The maps we use come in sections so you're only looking at 20-30 miles at a time, and I flipped the map section over a few times before finally reaching the top. But oh, what a top it was. And on the way we passed Bear's Ears.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0aeHHpTfzA/UGP0XlaHOdI/AAAAAAAAAXE/X6EliCbg2Sc/s1600/IMG_6608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0aeHHpTfzA/UGP0XlaHOdI/AAAAAAAAAXE/X6EliCbg2Sc/s320/IMG_6608.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I mean, there's a bear in there somewhere.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I thought it was a cool name for a formation.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, in the lower left hand corner of that photo -- see the truck? There were about 10 trucks on the road. They were Native Americans from a nearby preservation, and they were picking pine nuts. Apparently you can roast them just like sunflower seeds and eat them, or sell them, and they turn quite a profit. I just thought that was interesting.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So yea, another boring Nevada *ahem* Utah sort of day. There were many beautiful parts, but mostly it was just climbing... and climbing... and oh, I met someone from Japan! He had started in Canada, come down the Rockies, and was now cutting across to San Francisco. I thought it was an interesting route, but it made sense to him... in any case. It was also quite hot, and rained about a mile on either side of the road... but not on the road. I made camp about 4 miles outside of town, figuring Tim and Ken (who had gotten ahead of me earlier in the day, as usual) would get a motel in town.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day I awoke to more faraway rain, which would, later that day, become very close rain.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nErIZxBsF7E/UGP1aIbUwuI/AAAAAAAAAXM/kGhrWs5DktA/s1600/IMG_6614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nErIZxBsF7E/UGP1aIbUwuI/AAAAAAAAAXM/kGhrWs5DktA/s320/IMG_6614.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"But for now I'll just hang out far away and be pretty."</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I rode the 4 miles into town and went grocery shopping. They also had breakfast by the pound, which I thought was a great invention, because they were selling raw bacon for $8/lb in the meat department, but you could get cooked bacon for $5/lb along with biscuits, gravy, eggs, etc... it was swell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Eventually I found Ken and Tim's motel. I coerced the hostess into putting breakfast back out while I waited for K/T to appear (thanks!). So I got two breakfasts in one day, and all for $5. Anyways, we took off, stopping in Monticello, UT for lunch, before getting sprinkled on, and turning east for CO.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuTe0aY1Hlk/UGP2ehIuajI/AAAAAAAAAXU/wYXchy1K1QU/s1600/IMG_6619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuTe0aY1Hlk/UGP2ehIuajI/AAAAAAAAAXU/wYXchy1K1QU/s320/IMG_6619.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I'm not yawning, I'm just blinded by how colorful Colorado is.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We made it to another gas station and stopped for a snack (corn dogs at $0.76/piece -- I'm getting good at deal hunting) before turning around and seeing what the "sprinkle" had become:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mN8Hjo2L9Zg/UGP2wtM_NBI/AAAAAAAAAXg/SOEVJHvESPs/s1600/IMG_6620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mN8Hjo2L9Zg/UGP2wtM_NBI/AAAAAAAAAXg/SOEVJHvESPs/s320/IMG_6620.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
It had become a sprinkle of doom.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So then we rode a little faster.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After another hour of riding with rain jackets on, we were surrounded. Ironically, the rain didn't catch up to us -- it actually cut across the road in front of us, and we rode into it. It wasn't too bad at first, but eventually K/T pulled over under a church porch and called it quits for a bit. Ken was monologuing about how he would sleep there if he had to. I told them they were being ridiculous and they should come join the fun. They refused, so I rode on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
About 6 or so I passed a dot on the map called "Lewis." I would say it was a city, except that there was no population marked. There was a convenience store on my map, and I was interested in some hot chocolate. When I didn't find it on the main route, I pulled on a side road and ambled a bit before turning around. I didn't make it 50 feet before a car behind me honked, pulled up, and said, "Are you okay?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yea," I said, "I'm fine -- just looking for a place to stay." There was a reservoir about 2 miles down the road and I had still wanted my swim that morning, so I had been planning on staying there... albeit I didn't want a swim so much now that I had been rained on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Do you want to sleep in our pasture?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, I wasn't about to turn down a place to sleep. So I followed them about a block down the road before they got out and pointed out their yard. I could sleep with the horses. I could sleep with the cows. Oh! -- I could sleep with the turkeys! I was about to opt for the turkeys when they offered the garden as well, which didn't have any *decorations* on the ground. I gladly accepted.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was happy to have a place to stay and didn't ask about coming indoors. They did explain that they wanted to offer me a bath, but that the house was so small there was just a 3/4 bath inside. Then they explained that when <i>they </i>wanted a bath, they just filled up their backyard porcelain tub. Yup, they had a tub in their backyard. So they connected the hose to the hot water spigot (yes, they had hot and cold spigots for their hose), filled up the bath, and turned the other way.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I finished that night with a hot bath, outdoors, in the rain, in the backyard of a complete stranger.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zede9oj-4Xw/UGP4zxLe5_I/AAAAAAAAAXo/Wbl-SoR-plE/s1600/IMG_6626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zede9oj-4Xw/UGP4zxLe5_I/AAAAAAAAAXo/Wbl-SoR-plE/s320/IMG_6626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The photo <i>is </i>the snarky comment.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Welcome to Colorado.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-25821032669463115712012-09-26T23:18:00.002-07:002012-10-11T15:53:46.951-07:00Panguitch, UT to Hanksville, UT: Old Company, New CompanySpecial thanks to my current warmshowers host Rob for giving me a place to stay tonight! Posting from Montrose, CO.<br />
<br />
So, where did I last leave off? Ah, yes... we had all separated. Ken with his broken wheel, and Tim with his German accent, and me on the hill.<br />
<br />
So the next morning we got back together.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mnqK7PbS6zc/UGPY6qSrnFI/AAAAAAAAAUc/wHOJbiEBiNI/s1600/IMG_6447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mnqK7PbS6zc/UGPY6qSrnFI/AAAAAAAAAUc/wHOJbiEBiNI/s320/IMG_6447.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Magic!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, it wasn't quite that simple. Tim ended up riding until about 10:30 to Panguitch and getting a room. We discerned that he passed the hill where I was camped sometime after dark.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Ken sent Tim a text about 11 saying he'd be in at about 7 AM. Ken was riding 170 miles from where ever he got his wheel from after spending the previous night in a hotel with a spa. See, he couldn't get the wheel on Sunday, because in Utah, everything (except Subway) is closed on Sunday. He did knock on the door of some famous bicyclist who owned the shop in his town, but this person was away... so he saw him at the store on Monday, after spa-ing, before leaving. In any case, at about 11:30 PM, Ken was cycling along towards Panguitch with a 7 AM arrival time when a soccer mom drove by. You know those soccer moms... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shortly thereafter, Tim got another text reading "be there in half an hour."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So Tim and Ken slept in the same motel in Panguitch and I slept just outside of town. I got up early to go in for breakfast (which I almost never get to in time -- for some reason we sleep far enough out from cities we always arrive <i>after </i>11, which for some reason is the designated no-more-breakfast-o'clock), and turned on my phone to find a text from Ken saying "We're in Panguitch!" So I called and told them where I was and voila! We were back together.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Long story.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, we had a most excellent breakfast and then headed out to Bryce Canyon. About 20 miles of the route was on a bike path, which was pretty satisfying.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-68d2GlWZIro/UGPdAVEA11I/AAAAAAAAAU0/mhu-fwsDpPA/s1600/IMG_6451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-68d2GlWZIro/UGPdAVEA11I/AAAAAAAAAU0/mhu-fwsDpPA/s320/IMG_6451.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Anybody know the red dirt song?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We had already planned on taking a break day in Bryce Canyon, so we stopped at the grocery store just outside to stock up on food. We bought 16 hot dogs, all of which were eaten that night after being grilled over a campfire, and for breakfast we downed a package of 8 bear claws along with a dozen eggs.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, a dozen eggs.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, but we only got breakfast after getting up at 6:15 to watch the sun rise over the canyon.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r5MhMlD8LNs/UGPejs-V8sI/AAAAAAAAAU8/022Wsr4AP6w/s1600/IMG_6495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r5MhMlD8LNs/UGPejs-V8sI/AAAAAAAAAU8/022Wsr4AP6w/s320/IMG_6495.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
This doesn't deserve a snarky comment.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then I promptly went back to bed... before being awakened about 9:00 to cook breakfast. Being the designated chef has its drawbacks.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We spent the day doing, well, nothing, I guess. It was oh, so excellent. A little ironic being in such a beautiful place and not spending the day hiking around, but we didn't have it in us. Actually, Tim and Ken went for a 3 hour hike... I took a 3 hour nap.We also discovered the lunch buffet, which is another key word you look out for when cycle-touring -- "buffet." I had trouble moving shortly thereafter, my stomach was so full. Oh... then I took another nap. Er... let's call it a rest. Yes. A post-lunch rest. I didn't have dinner.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For breakfast the next morning (post break day) Ken and Tim had prepared a feast. They don't like to share food (when on an 8,000 calorie diet that can be a bit of a suicide move), so only after realizing they couldn't finish it all did they offer me some. It was, lo and behold, generic white bread rolls with cream cheese and jam. Oh, and we also dipped chips in cheese sauce. Yes... breakfast of champions. As Ken so deftly stated, "A bunch of people smoking pot couldn't come up with a better meal."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So true.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I mean, what?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we took off from Bryce Canyon the day after doing nothing, and ran into these crazy people, which would be the first of many:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jase8GoOfxI/UGPhzwMPKOI/AAAAAAAAAVY/sUY2TSIId6c/s1600/IMG_6506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jase8GoOfxI/UGPhzwMPKOI/AAAAAAAAAVY/sUY2TSIId6c/s320/IMG_6506.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Whoa! Another biker!"</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was as shocked as they were. We hadn't seen any other cyclists since... well, not since we ran into Tim, I believe. I could be wrong... maybe I should read my blog more often? Anyways, they sort of started a trend. These folks, Elsabeth and her husband (whose name I don't recall) were from Scotland. Next we met Johnny, who was from Sweden (and had a killer accent to boot), then Francisco, who was from Ohio, basically doing my route... but backwards. It was a pretty awesome day. Also, Johnny failed to mention that he had a broken collarbone. Francisco was the one who told us the story -- apparently Johnny fell off of a cliff and was in the hospital for four days... but couldn't be stopped. Oh, what? You want to see the epic Swedish Johnniness? Here he is.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o014WbcCEMw/UGPiwQt-ueI/AAAAAAAAAVg/JXbUQeeRseY/s1600/IMG_6511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o014WbcCEMw/UGPiwQt-ueI/AAAAAAAAAVg/JXbUQeeRseY/s320/IMG_6511.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Does that look broken to you?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In restrospect, the collarbone is just about the only bone you can break that doesn't affect your cycling performance.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we passed a ghosted drive-in movie theater.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AH4-FRfhec0/UGPjIg8T9UI/AAAAAAAAAVo/9o70JWyRRzo/s1600/IMG_6513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AH4-FRfhec0/UGPjIg8T9UI/AAAAAAAAAVo/9o70JWyRRzo/s320/IMG_6513.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And all the ghosts drove era-relevant cars.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was pretty awesome.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, we stopped in town (Escalante) and searched for a while for something to eat. The food was all quite expensive, so eventually we settled on the grocery store... and then we changed our minds and settled on Nemo's. It was, apparently, "the place to be." The food was good and everyone in town -- all ten people, including employees -- were there. So now you know that if you ever go to Escalante, UT, you should buy your food at Nemo's.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh also, I bought new tent stakes, because I had lost (bent) four of the ten I started with. What's up with that? And that same night, I lost one of my <i>new </i>ones... is there some trick to using tent stakes that I'm not aware of (note from the future: I've still only lost just the one)?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We went down a killer hill,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rhrsino7DF4/UGPkySiWHzI/AAAAAAAAAVw/TUxRrtgqCwc/s1600/IMG_6533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rhrsino7DF4/UGPkySiWHzI/AAAAAAAAAVw/TUxRrtgqCwc/s320/IMG_6533.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Okay, killer for our brakes, but not for us.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and entered the jungle. It was wild. For that entire day we had been in the desert -- sand, sun, heat, no water all around. We went down that hill and into a canyon made by a creek called Calf Creek, and suddenly -- vegetation! Moisture! Water! It was <i>awesome. </i>There was a whole new world living just below the surface (so like, the opposite of what the little mermaid sings about). We liked it so much we decided to camp there -- also, the price helped.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8DiQ_szgglk/UGPltpoc_vI/AAAAAAAAAV8/tMcYWvWQm7s/s1600/IMG_6539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8DiQ_szgglk/UGPltpoc_vI/AAAAAAAAAV8/tMcYWvWQm7s/s320/IMG_6539.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Tim has no idea what $7 footlongs are.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was $7 <i>per campsite. </i>So we payed $2.33 each. It was quite swell. The campsite was full but, thanks to OP laws (Own Power Laws -- see previous posts) we were still able to camp. And what made it most swell were some jokers named Jason and Maren. We spent the night shooting the shit and talking about cruise ships (Maren works as a waitress in Aspen, CO and was invited "on a sailboat" by one of her guests. Little did she know it was a cruise ship based out of Italy) and skiing and biking and such. It was a great night; thanks, you two.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3f1HsP0FVYg/UGPm61cfVmI/AAAAAAAAAWE/tyvHyAe3SUE/s1600/IMG_6540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3f1HsP0FVYg/UGPm61cfVmI/AAAAAAAAAWE/tyvHyAe3SUE/s320/IMG_6540.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Did I mention they also cooked us breakfast?</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I use the term "cooked" loosely, of course -- *ahem.*</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we climbed back into the desert, spending some time on this road called "The Hogback," which is essentially cliffs on both sides with road in the middle (!), before entering Boulder. I was excited to see the place where all my college friends were from... except that this was Boulder, UT, not Boulder, CO. In any case, we stopped for lunch, and proceeded out of town and up another big climb (don't quite remember the elevation on this one though, so it must not have been that big). Once we started climbing, we were out of the desert again and into tree/creek land. We didn't have to carry much water as there were creeks everywhere... I may or may not have even used my filter. It's not couture, I know, but the water was running clear and fast and I didn't gorge myself.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, we reached the top about 4, at which point I was informed Tim and Ken wanted a motel room for the night. They apparently hadn't had enough "decent" sleep (ha!), so we spent a few minutes calling around. The nearest available room, as it ends up, was in a town called Hanksville, 96 miles from where we had started that morning, and still about 70 miles from where we were. Yea, the hogback and that hill sort of owned us... 30 miles in 6 hours... not our best day. Ken and Tim wouldn't have any of it, so they made a reservation.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And we rode.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zx5MDGU3KJ0/UGPoeHXtJ7I/AAAAAAAAAWM/laz0yIEd7k4/s1600/IMG_6581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zx5MDGU3KJ0/UGPoeHXtJ7I/AAAAAAAAAWM/laz0yIEd7k4/s320/IMG_6581.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
...and then the sun went down.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then we rode some more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I mentioned a thing about calories earlier in this post -- now would be a good time to mention it again, I think. See, the average American consumes 3800 calories each day. Yea, there are some cultures that use that whole 2000 calorie diet thing, but not America. Okay, most of the people reading this are probably at about 2200, except for the day you ate that entire pint of Ben and Jerry's. But anyways -- if you know me, you know I'm always eating. I have an extremely high metabolic rate, which means I need an inordinate number of calories just to stand up every day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The average cyclists burns about 40 calories every mile. We're running on 1u1/2 times the weight, and the more energy you produce, the less efficient you are -- so let's say a touring cyclist needs 80 calories per mile. At 65 miles a day (my current average), that's 5200 calories <i>just to ride. </i>So figure 8,000 a day all together.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On a night you decide to ride 96 miles and only have Subway for dinner (which, as anybody who watched TV when Jared was famous knows, doesn't pack a lot of calories), you need a little something extra. And if you're me and you don't have something extra... you pass out.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, I didn't pass out, but we did have to stop so I could down half a pound of cookies. Don't tell my girlfriend...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
...and that's enough of that montage.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We made it to Hanksville, UT at 9:59 PM, averaging 15 mph from dinner until then. Yee-haw. Oh also, since the motel and the staying up late was Tim and Ken's idea, I slept on the floor for free.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-62785812574367501152012-09-25T23:39:00.001-07:002012-10-11T15:52:42.738-07:00Austin, NV to Panguitch, UT: Strawberries, High Jumps, and Long ClimbsAfter visiting Austin we saw the strawberry.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gMx5VCpfPzU/UGKKEJ4tmTI/AAAAAAAAASI/VBi2_6AWYd0/s1600/IMG_6351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gMx5VCpfPzU/UGKKEJ4tmTI/AAAAAAAAASI/VBi2_6AWYd0/s320/IMG_6351.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Oh yes. It's real.</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
(and almost as good as the signs that say "Falling Rock.")</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, we didn't see the strawberry... I assume that's a city of some kind. But I thought it was a great sign. So there's a photo of it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To be completely honest the next day was like most days in Nevada. We climbed. We descended. We flatted (a new word I just made up which means "to go forward without change in elevation"). We drank water. Don't believe me?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CH3hRWawMjM/UGKKrPKATfI/AAAAAAAAASQ/hzVyUxFnlPs/s1600/IMG_6355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CH3hRWawMjM/UGKKrPKATfI/AAAAAAAAASQ/hzVyUxFnlPs/s320/IMG_6355.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
This photo brought to you by the self-timer on my camera.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We also made a plan to arrive at Ely early in the morning for sort of a half-break day. So we made it to 20 or 30 miles outside of Ely that day, stealth camped, and then arrived in town about 11 or so. I was surprised they let us check in that early, but apparently it wasn't that big of a deal. In any case, we made camp... in a very unpacking-like fashion... and got to business. There were blogs to be updated. Tires to be patched. Donuts to be found.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(yes, there were donuts in Ely)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We also watched The A-Team, which I had never seen before. And I'll just leave that one hanging out there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, the next day we took off, and then Ken's rim took off.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3zvlsqot6fE/UGKTYLr6oWI/AAAAAAAAASo/QWX2EVJOCr8/s1600/IMG_6364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3zvlsqot6fE/UGKTYLr6oWI/AAAAAAAAASo/QWX2EVJOCr8/s320/IMG_6364.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
*rocket ship noise*</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, metaphorically speaking, anyways. What you see in the photo is something called a "spoke nipple." It holds the spoke onto the rim of the wheel. The other side of the spoke is attached to the hub of the wheel, which has the axle and keeps the wheel attached to the frame of the bike. In any case, you can see that the rim of the wheel has cracked where it's holding the spoke nipple in place. This is a common way for wheels to fail, often accompanying a broken spoke.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We decided, of course, that Ken's wheel hadn't really failed... that we could work with it and keep going. So I used my magic bike mechanic skills to magic away the problem, and we kept riding.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We rode into a field of wind turbines, and met Alex.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kEfvWX0LNow/UGKUvZwnhNI/AAAAAAAAASw/eddfDs_ke10/s1600/IMG_6372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kEfvWX0LNow/UGKUvZwnhNI/AAAAAAAAASw/eddfDs_ke10/s320/IMG_6372.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
What a good photographer. You can see Alex... <i>and </i>the wind turbines.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Alex is the kind of guy I would have liked to have kept riding with, but alas, he was headed the other way. He had already put 7,000 miles on his bike, doing loop-de-loos from Texas, and was planning on doing 5,000 more on the way to San Francisco. Apparently he affords his trip by doing work along the way -- he was coming from a 2-day stint as a weed puller at a local grocery store, apparently. It seemed like a cool way to make a living... and see the world... at the same time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, we got past the field of wind turbines, and up the hill... and down the hill... and then I realized I was in front, by quite a bit. This doesn't happen often, as I'm the most out of shape of the three of us (whatever that means while on tour). I wanted to make the most of being ahead, but there was a turn coming up, and I'd already had to correct Tim and Ken on five wrong turns or so... so I waited in what little shade I could find.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3XIKtmYm24/UGKV01dnVJI/AAAAAAAAAS8/9h5egVB9Jz0/s1600/IMG_6388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3XIKtmYm24/UGKV01dnVJI/AAAAAAAAAS8/9h5egVB9Jz0/s320/IMG_6388.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
This photo brought to you by boredom... and also the self-timer on my camera.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After a while I asked a car passing by if they'd seen any cyclists. They'd passed two, one of whom was hitchhiking, one of whom was waiting patiently for the hitchhiker. Then I saw a pickup with Ken's bike in the back. Then I asked another car and there was just one cyclist, and he was no longer waiting... then I found Tim.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, the worst had happened. Ken's wheel had busted for good, and he had to take the hard way out. No more Ken.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, just kidding. He joins us again later, with a new wheel. But first... Tim and I get to Utah!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PqCdzXrak1k/UGKWtmR5yiI/AAAAAAAAATE/fZw97u708AY/s1600/IMG_6393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PqCdzXrak1k/UGKWtmR5yiI/AAAAAAAAATE/fZw97u708AY/s320/IMG_6393.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Life Elevated." Get it? Because I'm jumping? Haha... ha... okay, anyways.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Utah is the state of the snakes. We saw three in the first hour. No rattlesnakes, but there was one snake in particular that was quite large. They were all just hanging out in the middle of the road. As a cyclist you tend to zone out quite a bit, so we didn't really notice them until we were almost on them... but they were never coiled up or anything. Just hangin out. Up until then we had seen plenty of dead snakes... these were the first alive snakes we saw.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, we made it about 20 miles into Utah before making camp. And then...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g1IsSllS018/UGKX3QUGLPI/AAAAAAAAATM/LeDelzuExL4/s1600/IMG_6403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g1IsSllS018/UGKX3QUGLPI/AAAAAAAAATM/LeDelzuExL4/s320/IMG_6403.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
You only think this is a picture of Nevada.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
See, we were all excited to be done with "endless hills" and such... but Utah just had more of them. Yes, more endless hills... oh, and did I mention I almost ran out of water? I didn't run out completely, having bought a liter or so of Gatorade just before entering Utah, but this was one of our longest stretches without service -- 84 miles, I believe -- and we didn't have any unwilling volunteers to deliver water for us, as apparently this was a particularly desolate stretch of highway. In any case, Tim, being much faster than I, disappeared relatively quickly that morning.<br />
<br />
I was having trouble with the wind.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You see, as a touring cyclist, there is one thing you come to enjoy quite a bit... and that is going down hills. It's sort of like a sacred right. And when wind comes and ruins that... you just get <i>angry. </i>Most hills you should <i>easily </i>be able to go at least 10 mph on, if not 16, or 20, or sometimes 30+ (I think my top speed thus far is 49). So when you spend three hours climbing 3,000 vertical feet, you expect some relief at the end. But no. Not in Utah. In Utah you have to pedal to go even <i>8 </i>down a hill. It was painful... demoralizing... *ahem.*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Elsewhere, Ken struggles to get a wheel, because everything in Utah is closed on Sundays.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back in Milford, UT, Kyle stops at a Subway, the only establishment open on a Sunday. Oh, and there were people there talking about gold.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x7ZMeDpy6WE/UGKZWQ4JszI/AAAAAAAAATU/eANIfovk5_0/s1600/IMG_6402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x7ZMeDpy6WE/UGKZWQ4JszI/AAAAAAAAATU/eANIfovk5_0/s320/IMG_6402.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And then I slept on top of a mountain.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I correctly ascertained that on the Cedar City side of the next pass, there wouldn't be any stealth camping. So I made it to the top and made camp, at about 8,000 feet, I believe. Thinking, foolishly, that I'd have an easy downhill in the morning...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You already know how that one ends (pro tip: it was windy).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, I made it to Cedar City about 10:30. I was fresh out of food, not having had a decent grocery story since Ely, so I stocked up on food and candy (candies are important!) and went to Little Caesar's for lunch. FYI, Little Caesar's is the best thing ever for touring cyclists. Basically you're like, "So listen, I need about 8,000 calories to make it through the day today... here's $5... think you can do that?" and Little Caesar's is like... "well, yea!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So anyways, I stocked up, and -- </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G9diTm4YW_0/UGKaV2spvdI/AAAAAAAAATg/ztrC1L4U0c0/s1600/IMG_6404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G9diTm4YW_0/UGKaV2spvdI/AAAAAAAAATg/ztrC1L4U0c0/s320/IMG_6404.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
10 pounds later...</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-- wait, what?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't talked a heck of a lot about weight yet, but now seems like a good time. See, as a touring cyclist, you are pretty much always worried about how much things weigh. I think I may have forgotten to mention, but (for first-timers anyways) there's a bit of a ritual as far as sending things home goes: You do it at least once. You realize you don't need three bars of soap, or two jackets, or shaving cream (...), and as soon as you dump all that stuff, pedaling is much easier.<br />
<br />
(alternatively, you ride with some crazy guys from Bosnia, and when they see you using unnecessary things like can openers, they just throw them away for you... *ahem*)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't mentioned this yet, but there's a bit hill out of Cedar City. Essentially, you have about 20 miles to do 5,000 vertical feet.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ag8im1XzFvM/UGKbqUiZ0HI/AAAAAAAAATo/eDk_-DN--rc/s1600/IMG_6405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ag8im1XzFvM/UGKbqUiZ0HI/AAAAAAAAATo/eDk_-DN--rc/s320/IMG_6405.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The sign in the back says "Turn Back Now."</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So when I say "I stocked up," what I really mean is that "every penny I spent hurt me on the inside."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, I left Cedar City at 12 (little did I know Tim was in a motel nearby...) and made it up the hill by 5. Immediately after leaving town, the view was great. It clearly wasn't desert... it was clearly... gorgeous.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh also, just below 10,000 vertical feet, this happened:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UKfMwkUEs5U/UGKc7i2dECI/AAAAAAAAATw/b0HUeZ1dJJw/s1600/IMG_6429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UKfMwkUEs5U/UGKc7i2dECI/AAAAAAAAATw/b0HUeZ1dJJw/s320/IMG_6429.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
How many sheep does it take to... wait.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's okay though. While I was biking up a hill, Ken was biking 130 miles, trying to get to Panguitch from wherever he had hitchhiked to. And Tim was behind me somewhere, having left Cedar City at about 2.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I made it to the top of the hill around 5, and then proceeded to go down. So far down. Okay, so Cedar City was at about 5,800. I had climbed to 10,800. And I had to descend to around 7,000, where I'd spend the next few days... er... day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tv63c4w9v_s/UGKeGcsrhqI/AAAAAAAAAT4/NRf2CRuXNUs/s1600/IMG_6444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tv63c4w9v_s/UGKeGcsrhqI/AAAAAAAAAT4/NRf2CRuXNUs/s320/IMG_6444.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And also that night.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So time for bed here in Telluride, CO... but I'm catching up... I think... right? In any case, the next post will be about the great reuniting of myself with my bicycle buddies, a break day in Bryce Canyon, meeting more fellow cyclists than I can count on one hand, and much more, I'm sure.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4xj7AsQWN-8/UGKfG3N65gI/AAAAAAAAAUE/oDv2FjRmFLI/s1600/IMG_6541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4xj7AsQWN-8/UGKfG3N65gI/AAAAAAAAAUE/oDv2FjRmFLI/s320/IMG_6541.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Like pictures of lizards.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With love from Telluride.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
COMMENT!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-86580757815706584982012-09-22T12:17:00.001-07:002012-10-11T15:51:46.453-07:00Nowhere, NV to Austin, NV: Free Water, Free Camping, Free Hand WavesThis will be a short post as today isn't a break day and it's been a busy morning. We're in Hanksville, UT and did 96 miles yesterday, getting in at 10 PM, so we're leaving late today after "sleeping in" until 9:30 AM... it's a long story which I'm sure I'll get to in a few posts/weeks. Enough chit-chat. Onward! Er... typeward?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XNLfJHpUQW8/UF4Eg4j7ysI/AAAAAAAAAQs/b8vRuxtYjow/s1600/IMG_6292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XNLfJHpUQW8/UF4Eg4j7ysI/AAAAAAAAAQs/b8vRuxtYjow/s320/IMG_6292.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Sadly, there weren't many donuts in Nevada.</h4>
<br />
<br />
Anyways... where did I last leave off? Ah, yes... Nowhere, NV. Okay, so there's not actually a city called Nowhere, but that's only because if there was, it would encompass all of Nevada. We were out of the boonies and into... the real boonies? Our map frequently stated "No Services Next X Miles" (where X was greater than or equal to 50 miles -- between 57 and 83, in these incidences). The first night we slept in the desert, some Apaches flew overhead. I'm sure they were doing drills or something but they flew within maybe 200 feet of us... the drill was probably called "screw with the crazy people camping in the middle of the desert." *ahem* in any case, we took off early the next morning, biked through a place called "B-17 Testing Zone," and then made it to a city called Middlegate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-djxM19oC-eU/UF4G5cYXg5I/AAAAAAAAAQ0/CspGnETTANs/s1600/IMG_6318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-djxM19oC-eU/UF4G5cYXg5I/AAAAAAAAAQ0/CspGnETTANs/s320/IMG_6318.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
It was in the middle of the gate between a good sense of humor, and... hm.</h4>
<br />
<br />
They had good food and apparently free camping, which we missed out on, and offered some advice on water:<br />
<br />
"Oh, exactly three miles from the top of the hill, there's an abandoned building on the right, and 100 paces behind that building is a creek with great water."<br />
<br />
(...and that's also where we hide the bodies).<br />
<br />
So we didn't take much water, but we did get to use our filters for the first time. I mean, only after 2700 vertical feet or so.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hiYPzVwerK0/UF4H6bwCcKI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/SDiyHOyIEqI/s1600/IMG_6323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hiYPzVwerK0/UF4H6bwCcKI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/SDiyHOyIEqI/s320/IMG_6323.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Ken is in this photo somewhere.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We made it to nowhere again that night shortly after filtering water (climbing 2700 feet in the heat with a headwind was, needless to say, a little draining) -- about 6 PM, one of our earliest quits. This was the first night we camped almost completely visible from the road, but we didn't really have a choice:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VBNYgS-WKbc/UF4JIfDKwxI/AAAAAAAAARI/fOwSXYQ-R-c/s1600/IMG_6335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VBNYgS-WKbc/UF4JIfDKwxI/AAAAAAAAARI/fOwSXYQ-R-c/s320/IMG_6335.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I promise, mountain, I'm not doing anything illegal.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We counted that six cars passed us that night, and all that passed with enough light to see us immediately called the police. I mean, waved. They waved. Pretty enthusiastically. Oh, and we woke up to coyotes about 4 AM.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm going to premise the next day by saying I use my photos to help me remember what happened, and I have about four photos of that day. Also, photos take forever to upload, and it's getting to be go time, so... that's convenient? I'll just do one or two more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LerYNCXtdOA/UF4MwKczltI/AAAAAAAAARo/xY6c1TVSUGA/s1600/IMG_6347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LerYNCXtdOA/UF4MwKczltI/AAAAAAAAARo/xY6c1TVSUGA/s320/IMG_6347.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Oh, THAT's where we are! -- special thanks to Ken's Droid.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After two hours and a countable number of cars (7, I believe) we made it to Austin, NV. Austin has a sign outside that says, "Austin: There's so much to to!" Apparently they have reputable mountain bike trails but everybody who rides them must die, as we didn't hear anything about them from the people who lived there, or see anybody else with bicycles. We stopped at the hole-in-the-wall hardware store which was stocked warehouse style, with stuff piled everywhere, to buy some alcohol for my stove. The owner said, "Ah! I think I have that!" and dug through the pile for about five seconds before pulling out a can of denatured alcohol. It was priced at $5.50 (everywhere else we found it, the price was $7.50) but he took a five and sent us on our way.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We had about 75 miles without service and it was already halfway through the day. Needing water to make it up three mountains and cook at night, we decided to hire some unwary travelers to carry water for us. We bought water at the only gas station in town (this water was much less affordable than the alcohol for whatever reason -- $2.63/gal) and handed it off to some willing volunteers. We didn't get their names, but we are incredibly grateful!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After finishing the hill-that-is-Austin (complete with more switchbacks), we met some more Germans on the downhill. They conversed with us for a bit in English before communicating with Tim at light speed... it reminded me of biking behind the Bosnians. Anyways, more hills, pace lines, Clif bars, headwinds, and hot weather later... Ken broke his second spoke. It was only about 6:30 but we took it as a sign and made camp in the Nevada tradition -- right in the middle of nowhere.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2Pok1MjSts/UF4L4qs6BJI/AAAAAAAAARg/vXTACIY1XOc/s1600/IMG_6345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2Pok1MjSts/UF4L4qs6BJI/AAAAAAAAARg/vXTACIY1XOc/s320/IMG_6345.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Did you hear something?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The highway was a bit busier that day, and nobody waved, but we're pretty sure it was the same deal as yesterday -- nobody cared. More coyotes. The only difference on this night was that it was FREEZING COLD. I was in my mummy-style sleeping bag with the draw string tight and was still a little cold. The next morning, we discovered that any water left outside our tent had turned to ice. Oh, Nevada.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Alright... it's go time! Lake Powell, here we come. Free swimming... heck yes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-75909914026532564432012-09-20T07:18:00.003-07:002012-09-20T07:18:52.399-07:00Sister Update!Kyle's in Bryce Canyon!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y9I6EevXHL4/UFslq1YchOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/tV6c9pxHKZg/s1600/DiProgressCrop!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y9I6EevXHL4/UFslq1YchOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/tV6c9pxHKZg/s1600/DiProgressCrop!.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />JMCookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16438319243734575056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-71250375312229977172012-09-14T20:13:00.001-07:002012-09-14T20:13:47.574-07:00Sausalito, CA to Nowhere, NV: More Warmshowers, More Warm Weather*phew* I think I might get all caught up today! Imagine that -- you can read things on my blog that actually happened less than 24 hours ago! Better stop jinxing it and get back to typing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jwGfaLQDEyo/UFPS6q4x2jI/AAAAAAAAAN0/Z6P1ABKuZOQ/s1600/IMG_6190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jwGfaLQDEyo/UFPS6q4x2jI/AAAAAAAAAN0/Z6P1ABKuZOQ/s320/IMG_6190.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And also enjoying the view.</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Er, no, this is just a photo of San Francisco. Never mind.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
We left Sausalito about 7 AM in order to be able to catch the ferry out of San Francisco. It is possible to bike around the south side of the bay, but it's about a 2- or 3- day detour, so we took the ferry from San Francisco to Vallejo. Not before getting to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge first, however! --<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8SRr-GvRM4M/UFPSDqWAB_I/AAAAAAAAANs/bzP3zeNw3TA/s1600/IMG_6192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8SRr-GvRM4M/UFPSDqWAB_I/AAAAAAAAANs/bzP3zeNw3TA/s320/IMG_6192.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Boom goes the dynamite.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So yea, we rode the bridge, meeting some nice commuters on the way ("I <i>want </i>to complain about getting up this early, but then I remember that I get to ride across the bridge to work every day"), then rode through downtown San Fran, which was pretty cool and exactly like in the movies (the ones filmed in San Francisco, anyways). We arrived at the ferry building with 30 minutes to kill, so stopped at a croissant place to pick up... well, I got a croissant, Ken got a donut. Donuts are sort of becoming a thing on this trip. We could probably eat <i>all donuts </i>and still not have enough calories to make it through the day. *cough* Anyways... not sure if that was bragging or not.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we sunscreened up after getting off the ferry, then rode through Vallejo, and then it was windy... which became a theme. A lot of people say the wind blows west to east... a lot of people say the opposite... I say it's, well, whichever way the wind blows. Seriously -- sometimes it was with us, sometimes it was against us. Either way, you keep pedaling.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After riding in the sweltering heat (yes, we had our last view of the ocean that same day -- interesting what going just a little bit inland does to the climate) for a few hours, we found a produce store. This place was <i>hopping.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k-AcM2DLYlw/UFPUs7n8I6I/AAAAAAAAAN8/TetlBK__sTE/s1600/IMG_6203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k-AcM2DLYlw/UFPUs7n8I6I/AAAAAAAAAN8/TetlBK__sTE/s320/IMG_6203.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Did I mention they had strawberries?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We bought a lifetime supply of strawberries for $2 and made lunch out of it before continuing on. Oh also, I forgot to mention, we were in wine territory, so didn't really want to stealth camp... lest some snobby vineyard security guard should stumble upon us. It would have been pretty cool to camp in a vineyard, but not worth the risk (though, I did end up truing Ken's wheel in a vineyard... there's a photo of that somewhere).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, we continued on in the sweltering heat, stopping whenever we found shade. We probably would have taken a nap in the shape if we hadn't set up another warmshowers venture, but we weren't so sure about stealth camping given how populated the area was (okay, it wasn't that populated once we got out of wine country, but there were lots of fences).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Eventually we made it to Davis, where they had BICYCLE ROUNDABOUTS. For those of you who don't know me that well, I have a thing about roundabouts. For those of you not reading this blog -- I have a thing about bicycles. So as you can probably imagine, I was super excited about bicycle roundabouts. And there must have been twenty of them -- every block or so on the campus of UC Davis.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKss-H5wckU/UFPWkgIHPrI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Aan64vSfb70/s1600/IMG_6212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKss-H5wckU/UFPWkgIHPrI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Aan64vSfb70/s320/IMG_6212.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Oh and did I mention BICYCLE ROUNDABOUTS!?!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While still in wine country a guy named Elliot rode with us for a while before speeding off. He was just completing a three day tour carrying nothing but his toothbrush, as he had places to stay every night. In any case, he ended up going home, showering, changing, getting on a different bike, and meeting us just outside of town. It made me feel pretty slow... *cough* anyways. He was pretty cool, and volunteered to be our tour guide through town and to the bike path to Sacramento, where our warmshowers stay was for the night. Thanks, Elliot!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oynh1VHebMc/UFPXsSF9kpI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/obcu9z6Yxw4/s1600/IMG_6211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oynh1VHebMc/UFPXsSF9kpI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/obcu9z6Yxw4/s320/IMG_6211.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"I'm Elliot and I certify myself to be awesome."</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, we made it to Sacramento about 7:30, where Yvette, our warmshowers host, had a room and a shower waiting for us. She made pizza while we washed off the day's work (I think that's the only time I've taken a shower two days in a row... don't tell anyone), then we ate and Scrabbled the night away before heading off to bed at an exhausting 10:30. Kids these days, I don't know how they do it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O0r1hCFoMC4/UFPYq7HlDwI/AAAAAAAAAOY/ku9hPg_BlBE/s1600/IMG_6213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O0r1hCFoMC4/UFPYq7HlDwI/AAAAAAAAAOY/ku9hPg_BlBE/s320/IMG_6213.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Yvette also had great taste in art.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After tour guiding us around a bit the next morning (namely, she biked with us to the grocery store), Yvette left us at the start of a 30-mile long bike path from Sacramento to Folsom. In Folsom, we stopped at a bike shop hoping to buy a chain whip (a tool you need to replace broken spokes on a wheel -- spokes often break on tour, and sometimes make the bike unrideable, meaning if you can't fix it you have to walk to the nearest bike shop that can). The only one they had weighed about 2 lbs, so we passed. And found donuts.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WnlKdWLmrE/UFPbIiuoZ0I/AAAAAAAAAOs/QveeQuPUF_E/s1600/IMG_6217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WnlKdWLmrE/UFPbIiuoZ0I/AAAAAAAAAOs/QveeQuPUF_E/s320/IMG_6217.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
You couldn't catch me near one of these if you tried.</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
...don't bother trying...</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*ahem*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On a way to a place to camp for the night, we met Tim, who was from Germany. Tim apparently stayed at the same warmshowers host as Sandro and Seal in San Francisco, so it was quite a coincidence seeing us. He was biking from San Fran to New York, but was much faster than us, so he took off. We were left behind in search of shade and water. We spend that night in an empty, abandoned lot just outside of town (but don't tell anyone).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning -- the day after we passed up a chain whip -- Ken got a broken spoke. Now, a bit of backstory here. I built my bike to be the leanest, meanest touring machine out there. Steel frame, custom built heavy-duty wheels... okay, I sort of went overboard, but I didn't know that until now. Also, not very lean. *cough* but anyways. Better too much than not enough, right? Anyways, Ken is using his racing bike to tour. So he's sort of on the opposite side of the scale. I made a personal bet with myself that he wouldn't make it a week without breaking a spoke. This spoke breakage comes at 6 days, 23 hours, and about 44 minutes after leaving.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So anyways.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ken's fancy racing bike also has straight-pull spokes (look it up if you're curious). Long story short, he was actually able to replace the spoke without removing the cassette (which is what you need the chain whip for). I was seriously impressed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-plyw4OTcTkc/UFPcegxsAkI/AAAAAAAAAO4/BkyqPvKfQGI/s1600/IMG_6221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-plyw4OTcTkc/UFPcegxsAkI/AAAAAAAAAO4/BkyqPvKfQGI/s320/IMG_6221.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Wish they'd taught me that trick at bike school.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Many things happened that day, but the long and short of it is that we biked through wine country again, met some tourists from Britain (from NY, going to San Fran, 9 weeks on the road and 2 days left!), and then at lunch,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pz2N-fYnsVY/UFPgR6DolYI/AAAAAAAAAPM/Gi15l4-eRsQ/s1600/IMG_6230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pz2N-fYnsVY/UFPgR6DolYI/AAAAAAAAAPM/Gi15l4-eRsQ/s320/IMG_6230.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Tim!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tim!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(oh, that's Tim, by the way)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tim is the German guy who had passed us the previous day. He apparently had gotten a motel about a half a mile before where we slept, so we had spent the entire day ahead of him. He caught up to us during our "lunch nap," which we decided was a new holiday in hot places -- the time when you stop biking, eat lunch, and nap, while waiting for the heat to turn down a bit.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, Tim ended up riding with us for the rest of the day. We stopped at a place called "Cook's Station," which has a bit of novelty value for me since my mother's maiden name is "Cook." They had good food, and some of the best prices I'd seen (though I guess we were now out of the tourist-ville of the coast and into hot-ville of the mountains).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We had started at 2,000 feet that day (2,000 feet of elevation, that is) and in the heat risen to about 5,000, so we were pretty pooped. Shortly after eating we found an awesome campsite somewhere around 5,700.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XAyP69au49c/UFPh9wsiSiI/AAAAAAAAAPU/8gHow4Y5rjA/s1600/IMG_6244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XAyP69au49c/UFPh9wsiSiI/AAAAAAAAAPU/8gHow4Y5rjA/s320/IMG_6244.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
And the view was fantastic.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We also hung our food that night, being we were in bear country.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning was a climb and many views (too many pictures to post here) to our second highest peak of the trip (I think -- or at least, our highest peak thus far) (our highest peak being yet to come, 10,800 somewhere in the rockies). We didn't reach it until about 2:00 that day, but it was well received.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHwc8VJmjmQ/UFPi3_tyMFI/AAAAAAAAAPc/ctp32uYx6aY/s1600/IMG_6267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHwc8VJmjmQ/UFPi3_tyMFI/AAAAAAAAAPc/ctp32uYx6aY/s320/IMG_6267.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
In retrospect, it wasn't that hard to breathe at 1.5 miles high.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And it was all downhill from there -- but really -- we made about 20 miles in just under an hour, and quickly reached my fourth state, Nevada.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XBrP7cBvfaw/UFPjYsFr06I/AAAAAAAAAPo/iM8Zok4ACI8/s1600/IMG_6276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XBrP7cBvfaw/UFPjYsFr06I/AAAAAAAAAPo/iM8Zok4ACI8/s320/IMG_6276.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Their sign was sideways first.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And honestly, between now and then, I don't have much to say. There are some beautiful moments.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BpKSgTe4H9U/UFPkM4QqdQI/AAAAAAAAAPw/m0hR-rmmBeo/s1600/IMG_6284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BpKSgTe4H9U/UFPkM4QqdQI/AAAAAAAAAPw/m0hR-rmmBeo/s320/IMG_6284.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Sun goes down... eyesore goes down, too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And our warmshowers hosts in Carson City were wonderful. Oh, so wonderful. I wish I had taken a photo of that breakfast. It was the best breakfast of the entire trip. But then... there was more Nevada. We took the 50, which is apparently known as "The Loneliest Highway in America."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you ask your parents about the trip to school every day (or if they ask their parents), you will likely receive the answer...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I had to walk ten miles, uphill both ways, into the wind, and oh... it was always snowing."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's about what Nevada feels like. Okay, minus the snow. But it's so flat and long that you see roads you think are going to take ten minutes, and two hours later, you're only halfway there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vNWR-5HvG30/UFPl3h1SmvI/AAAAAAAAAP4/1z_diuurxGs/s1600/IMG_6297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vNWR-5HvG30/UFPl3h1SmvI/AAAAAAAAAP4/1z_diuurxGs/s320/IMG_6297.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
20 miles later, we looked up and saw the same thing.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Of course, the cool thing about Nevada is that once we got away from the Californian border (which apparently is where all of Nevada's 50 people are), it was easy to find a place to stealth camp.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oYuqe-E05yo/UFPqB-T23uI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/juCnJvEuMac/s1600/IMG_6315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oYuqe-E05yo/UFPqB-T23uI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/juCnJvEuMac/s320/IMG_6315.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
So... maybe just a little to the left?</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay, so it's getting quite late here (for those of us who sleep by the sun), and the internet is getting slower... I guess that's what you get for sharing it with the rest of a motel on a Friday night. In any case, I guess I'm not all caught up -- I'll finish Nevada next time. And as of tomorrow, I'll be in Utah!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With love from Ely,</div>
<div>
Kyle.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-40106726211371507292012-09-14T17:50:00.000-07:002012-09-14T17:50:00.005-07:00Arcata to Sausalito: KB, the Century, and Warm Showers...but then, Ken!<br />
<br />
This is Ken.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TAd5gWjrfxA/UFO5whI7PwI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZHV3ioVFRO0/s1600/IMG_6096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TAd5gWjrfxA/UFO5whI7PwI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZHV3ioVFRO0/s320/IMG_6096.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Or at least, my view of Ken.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ken is quite fast, so most of the time I just see a small dot on the horizon. He made me quite fast for a little bit, too -- we left Arcata at 7:30 AM on Saturday and chugged out 16 mph for the first two hours. Normally I wouldn't have any problem with that, but on a loaded touring bike (which I suppose I ought to weigh once I get home... not while I'm on tour though) 16 can be a challenging speed to maintain. Ken has a 20 mile commute each day, so he's in much better shape than I am. He whips out a stretching/vitamin regimen every time we pull over... I usually snack on dried fruit or bread or something. We make quite the pair.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We took the highway out from Arcata for about 30 miles before the map said to take a detour called "Avenue of the Giants." Ken had done this ride before so he wasn't very amused, but I wanted to know what these giants were and why they got their own avenue. As it ends up -- trees!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-61TBxu8xsio/UFO7WWJB3VI/AAAAAAAAALo/-sfX83ytCg0/s1600/IMG_6101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-61TBxu8xsio/UFO7WWJB3VI/AAAAAAAAALo/-sfX83ytCg0/s320/IMG_6101.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Rather large trees.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Redwood forests were kind of becoming a theme throughout the California portion of the trip, so I suppose it's only fitting. If you've ever driven (/ridden, perhaps?) through one of these forests, you know how amazing they can be. I think the most vivid memory I have is passing by a downed tree that, on its side, was still about 10 feet high (EG it was 10 feet in diameter). A very cool place to bike.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We continued on this Avenue of Giant thing until having to stop for water at a school on the road. In California, most schools are many small, separate buildings, which is okay because it never rains. I'm from Minnesota, so I'm still getting over this -- the school would get sued if any of the kids had to walk <i>outside </i>between classes during the freezing winter. But alas, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Anyways, the point is, the water fountains are outside too, so we had no trouble finding water. After filling up, I turned around to see this sign:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k548Eka4Uqk/UFO8lOgBKWI/AAAAAAAAALw/1wy6M2X9AWU/s1600/IMG_6105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k548Eka4Uqk/UFO8lOgBKWI/AAAAAAAAALw/1wy6M2X9AWU/s320/IMG_6105.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Eureka! ...wait.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For the record, it was about 2 PM, and we started in Aracata... 7 miles <i>north </i>(on the far side) of Eureka. So basically, we had already biked more than 60 miles, and it was only 2 PM. I didn't know if I should have been scared or excited or proud... but in any case... we kept biking until we saw a place to pull over for some snacks. Lo and behold, just about to take off from the same store:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rnPaHkCIEro/UFO9anXT9RI/AAAAAAAAAL4/dYjhZyAdIVo/s1600/IMG_6104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rnPaHkCIEro/UFO9anXT9RI/AAAAAAAAAL4/dYjhZyAdIVo/s320/IMG_6104.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
I missed you too, old friend.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sandro and Seal!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I guess I should take this time to mention the biking-bond you get with people. I meant to mention it earlier, and feel like it may have come out a bit, but I think now would be a great time to elaborate. Basically, I now understand what people call the "war-buddy bond --" you know, when you're walking around town and you see two guys who are both war veterans run into each other. They've never met before, but they are instantly friends. They share when and where they served, and how the weather was, and that sort of thing. I'm obviously not fighting a war (...), but I am doing something rather challenging, and I think that when you meet people doing the same thing, you can say, "Yea, I'm doing that too! I'm living life away from the people and the things I love, and pushing my body and my mind as hard as I can every day. I'm not really sure why I'm doing this... but maybe I'll find out along the way. You dig?" It's hard to explain -- it's really something that has to be experienced, I think -- but somehow, going on tour with someone is like gluing yourself to them -- like saying, "We're going to make it through this together, okay?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Perhaps that's a bit romantic of me, but so be it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, the Bosnians took off, hoping to meet us up the road. As I would later find out, they stopped to go swimming and we rode right by them! I can imagine Seal running naked out of the river, shouting my name as I zoom by... oh, what a sight it must have been.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We spent the rest of the day climbing (for you non-cyclists, that just means "pedaling uphill"): My biggest climb yet, from sea level to about 1800 feet in 45 miles or so. We started looking for a place to camp about 6:00, but didn't find anything until finally realizing the odometer said almost 90 miles for the day. At that point, we decided we had to make it to 100. Right at 100 miles for the day, there was a state park -- we took it as a sign and made camp. As we would later learn, Sandro and Seal made camp about a mile behind us.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CgQ4ydVwK6g/UFPGnz6ckVI/AAAAAAAAAMo/3uKHmJwfp8E/s1600/IMG_6108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CgQ4ydVwK6g/UFPGnz6ckVI/AAAAAAAAAMo/3uKHmJwfp8E/s320/IMG_6108.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Pay money, get a picnic table.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day we climbed some more. We thought we were done climbing as on the map, Leggett (a town; or more, a gathering of buildings at the intersection of the 101 and the 1) was at the top of the hill.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But no.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We kept climbing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We climbed for about 2 hours after waking up, even doing a few switchbacks, before finally descending... and then climbing some more... and then at about 12:30 we finally got to the coast again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-60143EkWPdQ/UFPCnAPKNII/AAAAAAAAAMQ/OSUWgH6itKA/s1600/IMG_6112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-60143EkWPdQ/UFPCnAPKNII/AAAAAAAAAMQ/OSUWgH6itKA/s320/IMG_6112.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Hey, fog. We missed you too.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ken likes to buy water, so he bought a whole gallon at the next place we stopped. It was a bit too much for both of us, so we left the remaining half gallon for "the people with weird accents." As it ends up, those people weren't the Bosnians! -- but Sandro and Seal did catch up to them and get some water. I guess it was a meeting of people with weird accents.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, we made it to Fort Bragg about 2:30. Wanting to reunite with the Bosnians, we found the local Starbucks... and waited.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Sandro and Seal think very highly of Starbucks. They can get coffee, charge their phones... it's like my version of Safeway. A reliable place to go)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sure enough, they rolled in about 5 or so. We shared stories, went grocery shopping, and then went on our way. I was happy to get to camp with them one more time before San Francisco, and Seal found us a nice spot, too:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2tzEU76mug/UFPEe9uCSMI/AAAAAAAAAMY/D9lFBxX-x8c/s1600/IMG_6125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2tzEU76mug/UFPEe9uCSMI/AAAAAAAAAMY/D9lFBxX-x8c/s320/IMG_6125.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
The fog rolled in about 3 AM. Don't worry.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We spent the morning together until the next town. Sandro and Seal wanted to have a proper breakfast, so Ken and I took off, content with minor snacking. We waiting in the grocery store/co-op of the next city, only to see them zoom by on their bikes, without enough time to yell at them to stop. Oh, the Bosnians.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then began the day of climbing. We coined the term "death loop," which is where the road, otherwise straight, curves inward (towards the land, away from the ocean), goes downhill, then tightly turns back out and goes uphill again. The turn is too tight to coast through, so you have to brake and pedal up the hill. Death loops. We did about four of those before my map turned from death loops to "death wiggles." I'm not sure how to describe what this looked like on the map, but rest assured, it was frightening. In any case, what it really meant was that there were too may death loops to accurately represent on a map. So we climbed. And climbed. And it was worth it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K2uOyRJlWgE/UFPF6kQvwXI/AAAAAAAAAMg/tCjk-YzWJ28/s1600/IMG_6151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K2uOyRJlWgE/UFPF6kQvwXI/AAAAAAAAAMg/tCjk-YzWJ28/s320/IMG_6151.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Just to be clear... those are clouds... at the <i>bottom </i>of the photo.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was on this day that I really learned to like climbing. You really feel like you're accomplishing something. Especially those climbs where you can look back and see the winding road and go, "Yea, I biked that."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyways, we then got to go down this wicked downhill. We went only about 500 feet south, but probably 1500 vertical feet down... that's how windy it was. We were passing cars and such. No big deal. We reach a town called Jenner just in time for the view:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IRKsWcjDec/UFPHheInEuI/AAAAAAAAAM0/M9jKNrAwLb8/s1600/IMG_6159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IRKsWcjDec/UFPHheInEuI/AAAAAAAAAM0/M9jKNrAwLb8/s320/IMG_6159.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Ah... the sun... the ocean... the beach... I could go on.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We also met Tom.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4S-_6D54CTA/UFPH6vPlTPI/AAAAAAAAAM8/m9_uGeg3GVQ/s1600/IMG_6163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4S-_6D54CTA/UFPH6vPlTPI/AAAAAAAAAM8/m9_uGeg3GVQ/s320/IMG_6163.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
We love you, Tom.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tom worked at the gas station in Jenner. He had an excellent sense of humor. We love you, Tom.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shortly after leaving the gas station it got <i>super </i>foggy. We passed a few places to stealth camp, but didn't want to have the fog lift and have there be a house 200 feet away (visibility was about 100 feet). Needless to say, we stopped at the first campsite we passed. It said "Campsite Full." Luckily, however, most states (California included) have an "Own Power" law. This means that if you arrive at the campsite by your own power, the<i> </i>site <i>has </i>to make space for you. So we moved in.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Actually, there wasn't a ranger there, so we just put $10 in an envelope and went to the first open site. Apparently someone forgot they were camping there that night... *ahem.* Our neighbors invited us to their fire, which was swell. They also gave us a card and said if we needed anything, to call -- they had relatives eat of San Fran (note from the future: So far, nothing has lined up. A generous offer nonetheless!). Ah, the people, the people... I've said this before and I'm sure I'll say it again: It's the people you meet that make your tour great. And had it not been foggy, we wouldn't have met.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, the next morning we awoke and headed inland for a bit before doubling back. After turning around, it became readily apparent where the ocean was:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6QahRlf4xg/UFPJWBHoK_I/AAAAAAAAANE/lgTIYKyZluE/s1600/IMG_6169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6QahRlf4xg/UFPJWBHoK_I/AAAAAAAAANE/lgTIYKyZluE/s320/IMG_6169.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Captain! Iceberg ahead! Er, no... just <i>really thick fog.</i></h4>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Yea, the fog coming off the ocean was pretty wild. In any case, we didn't make it back to the ocean until later that day, doing more death loops up the 1.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lFqiysdiWB8/UFPKKsDo2VI/AAAAAAAAANM/PWok-kl3QOY/s1600/IMG_6173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lFqiysdiWB8/UFPKKsDo2VI/AAAAAAAAANM/PWok-kl3QOY/s320/IMG_6173.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Okay, this is just a photo of death itself.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We were friends with climbing at that point, so had some fun putting on an extra 2200 vertical feet or so (the map we had wanted us to go another route, but I wanted to see the ocean one last time, so that's just a guess). We went up and down three times before finally just going <i>down.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Finally, about 6:30, we made it to Sausalito. Sausalito is the city across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco, where we had a place to stay for the nice. There's a website called warmshowers.org where cycling tourists can find places to stay for free. We had originally planned to stay with a friend in San Francisco, but that fell through for whatever reason, so we spent the morning frantically e-mailing everyone in a ten mile radius apologizing for the short notice. As it ends up, someone had it in their hearts to house us that night.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rPNRRmJSEp4/UFPLt5MQLUI/AAAAAAAAANY/5qvo3rhN5x4/s1600/IMG_6186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rPNRRmJSEp4/UFPLt5MQLUI/AAAAAAAAANY/5qvo3rhN5x4/s320/IMG_6186.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
After climbing lots of stairs.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Did I mention that Sausalito is basically a big hill? It's worse than Seattle. We walked uphill for about 20 minutes (okay, I biked, just to prove I could bike up a hill Ken had to walk up... but I biked the same speed as he walked), then walked up 40 stairs to the house. Winnie and Bruce weren't home yet, so we walked back down the hill and found a pizza place... and ate a large pizza and a "bowl" of fries. That wasn't quite enough, so we also stopped for ice cream (there was a bit of a debacle with closing time and ATM machines... ask me in person).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day was a break day for us (thanks, Winnie and Bruce!). Ken went to San Francisco to buy a new Thermarest, and I bummed around, giving my legs a break, updated my blog, catching up with friends, and I even made it to the grocery store (which means, yes, I had to walk up that hill yet again). I didn't want to eat <i>all </i>our host's food, so I bought some half-and-half (certain people are worried I will start losing bone, as if you've seen me, you know I don't have much weight to lose), cereal, and a pint of Ben & Jerry's, among other things. All was gone by the next morning.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Coming soon... we head east!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
By the way, Ken has one of those fancy Droid things, so he's posting every day! His posts are much shorter than mine and focus more and mileage and such, but if you want daily updates of my tour (at least until he drops off in CO), you can check out his blog: kentouring.blogspot.com.<br />
<br />
- - -<br />
<br />
By the way of the way, I'd like to plug warmshowers. As I've mentioned a few times now, it's the people you meet who make the trip. Anyone can be a host, and the only obligation is that you offer a place to stay (even a yard for tent-pitching is fine) for free, and keep your contact information current. As an added bonus, anyone you host is bound to be really cool and have some awesome stories! In your bio, you can just put how cycle-tourist Kyle inspired you to be an awesome host.<br />
<br />
Really, please consider it. There could be people biking by your house right now who just need a place to sleep! I plan to be a host myself as soon as I settle down. In the mean time, thanks to my hosts, who have made this trip awesome!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-25052665743323954702012-09-14T16:41:00.001-07:002012-09-14T16:41:10.981-07:00Almost to Utah!Jenna here, Kyle's almost to Utah!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bc1Rk6M_GnE/UFPAcGpJyyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/B0e46Hxaepo/s1600/DiProgressCrop!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bc1Rk6M_GnE/UFPAcGpJyyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/B0e46Hxaepo/s1600/DiProgressCrop!.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />JMCookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16438319243734575056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-52053964049733206462012-09-09T22:31:00.001-07:002012-09-09T22:41:33.592-07:00Bosnians, Broken Computers, and BobStill here in Sausalito, taking a break day with my host, whom I can't thank enough (did I mention... thanks?). I took a walk along the ocean, which was most excellent (though my legs, I think, wanted the <i>whole </i>day off), and now I'm back in the house and mostly caught up with everything. Time to tell you all about... the Bosnians.<br />
<br />
By my math I've inadvertently missed a day somewhere, but let's not worry about that. All I remember is that the day after I stayed at a campsite for $6, I passed some cycle tourists.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ySA8R0xqoE0/UEfG6dhydJI/AAAAAAAAAJg/z1cyqQBQGrg/s1600/IMG_5985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ySA8R0xqoE0/UEfG6dhydJI/AAAAAAAAAJg/z1cyqQBQGrg/s320/IMG_5985.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
It looked about like this on that day. Okay, exactly like this.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes. I passed them. They waved. Nothing special. In fact, that happened multiple times a day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shortly afterwards... they passed me. And the trend continued throughout the day. They seemed to be going about the same pace as me, and they were awfully quiet. They never stopped to say hi -- they hardly did the head nod. In retrospect, this was probably mostly my fault, as after the day of almost-quitting and then the day of much-rain I probably didn't look too happy. In any case, it was pretty standard riding that day. I did pass the sea lion caves, which are a thing apparently, but didn't stop due to the crowd. After all, I had already seen sea lions.</div>
<div>
<br />
(now typing on 9/9 from a host in Carson City, NV)<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
In any case, towards the end of the day I had pulled over to pick some blackberries when these guys pulled up behind me looking for some chain lube. We got to talking, and ended up riding together for a bit. After establishing that I was riding alone and quite lonely, I was invited over for dinner! Well, as much as you can invite someone over when you are an "opportunist." *ahem*<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nwdo0ilckOw/UE1u31tlBkI/AAAAAAAAAJw/tmV763dzwOo/s1600/IMG_5988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nwdo0ilckOw/UE1u31tlBkI/AAAAAAAAAJw/tmV763dzwOo/s320/IMG_5988.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"The Bosnians:" Sandro on the left, and Seal ("say-all") on the right.</h4>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So Sandro and I talked for the rest of the day about everything from our trips to politics in Bosnia to what we ate on tour to -- well, you get it. Occasionally the two would banter in Bosnian. Seal spoke English, apparently, but did not speak it much. Mostly he would banter with Sandro and Sandro would translate for me. In any case, we talked and rode for the next three hours or so, and then Seal found us a place to sleep (he's "the master," apparently).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpQFDpeWjgw/UE1wbhfi6SI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/rh4drD3CBEM/s1600/IMG_5996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpQFDpeWjgw/UE1wbhfi6SI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/rh4drD3CBEM/s320/IMG_5996.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Sand beach, too!</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Up till then I had had mostly pasta for dinner, and had felt my energy reserves slowly depleting. Sandro and Seal introducted me to the concept of salts, which (in short) we need to process energy. So since that night, I've been having soup almost every night. But that night, we had a four course meal: Soup, pasta, rice, then dessert ("Candies are essential," Sandro would later say, in a speech about blood sugar). It was... well, delicious. We bantered the night away talking about girls and jobs and everything in between.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning, I was a bit slow to get going (apparently most cyclists don't eat breakfast). I was afraid I had lost my new friends, but with my new salts, I caught up to them within the hour! We passed through a city called Coos Bay, and met a few other cyclists -- a father and son (?) who were biking the world, for instance. They had just gotten started in Canada and were planning to spend four years on their bikes. Seal left his address in Bosnia, and these guys said, "Thanks! We'll call you in two years!" It was pretty great.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With my new education in bicycle fooding, I bought some bread and dried soup (canned soup has water weight).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next days were great conversation and storytelling and much bantering in Bosnian. Every now and then they would take off and I would worry I had lost my new friends. I knew they wouldn't be with me for long, and part of the point of this trip was to be independent, but I didn't think I'd realized until then how much having company is comforting and, well... there really aren't words for what a friend can do when you've undertaken such a great task. *ahem* In any case. Lo and behold, before long I would find them on the side of the road picking blackberries.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-COZ0Mclplz4/UE113WKm7YI/AAAAAAAAAKc/eKbkKOjjVKo/s1600/IMG_6029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-COZ0Mclplz4/UE113WKm7YI/AAAAAAAAAKc/eKbkKOjjVKo/s320/IMG_6029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Did you hear something?"</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Apparently they don't have those in Bosnia -- as I mentioned previously, they are practically a weed in Washington and Oregon. So sometimes I caught up to them as they stuffed themselves with berries, or sometimes I was with them when Seal would throw his bike to the ground and the two would run to the side of the road for a feast. Occasionally I would hear Sandro comment, "THIS! -- THIS is <i>El Dorado!"</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Later that night we met a cycle tourist who was actually <i>on tour</i>:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ntzJj6NmrjE/UE10dXJbRMI/AAAAAAAAAKM/dok-Cln1zHA/s1600/IMG_6013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ntzJj6NmrjE/UE10dXJbRMI/AAAAAAAAAKM/dok-Cln1zHA/s320/IMG_6013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
So yea, that's a guitar in that trailer. Oh, and my girlfriend is also my accompanist.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
His name is Paul Doffing and if you're in the mood for some new music, Google him! Any artist who tours -- er, cycle tours -- er, tours with a bike... whatever, you get it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That day we had ridden 80 or 90 miles, so we were absolutely exhausted. Just as we were about to surrender to the $6 fee of the state park, Seal jumped off his bike and started climbing a cliff face on the side of the road. After some bantering in Bosnian and asking my opinion and "was I sure," we spent the next 20 minutes hauling our bikes and panniers up a 15 foot cliff face. The view was worth it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E2pI2B6e4hs/UE11jG8IwnI/AAAAAAAAAKU/4mnH7wM651g/s1600/IMG_6022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E2pI2B6e4hs/UE11jG8IwnI/AAAAAAAAAKU/4mnH7wM651g/s320/IMG_6022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
So worth it.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(In light of catching up, I'm skipping over a few details here, but the essential ones won't be missed)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning, we hit biker central.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Tn2TNxM2P4/UE12oyYWv0I/AAAAAAAAAKk/i3g6FJNH25k/s1600/IMG_6032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Tn2TNxM2P4/UE12oyYWv0I/AAAAAAAAAKk/i3g6FJNH25k/s320/IMG_6032.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Oh... did you call in advance? We sure did.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(above is just a sampling of the cyclists we saw that day)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When we stopped, it was just us. We stayed about 40 minutes for lunch, and saw the guys going around the world, the cycle-touring musician, two guys from England, and a couple from Canada. It was pretty cool.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then, just as my legs were getting warmed up again (by the way, if you stop for even two minutes, it is <i>super hard </i>to get going again. It <i>hurts. </i>Your body wants to heal itself. So... you don't stop unless you have a good reason), the Bosnians decided to go swimming. After all, they don't pay for lodging -- they rely on rivers and lakes and whatnot. Here is Sandro jumping off a cliff.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izF_uDXcxMQ/UE13cHlDsmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/3VKNrfDUviU/s1600/IMG_6035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izF_uDXcxMQ/UE13cHlDsmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/3VKNrfDUviU/s320/IMG_6035.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
"Do you think I'll live?"</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Apparently in Bosnia they have a diving competition every year off of this bridge that's more than 200 years old. It's 85 feet high, and they <i>dive. </i>Yes -- head first.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After some more riding, we hit our last city in Oregon -- Brookings, OR. We stopped for food and a recharge (there's a bit more here you can ask me about in person, but again, time). I was ready to reach my third state... I was so excited, I started singing. Oh yes. There was much singing. And then... there was California.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o0S6gl-E6i4/UE14p6KAGuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/2itsbiKxxEQ/s1600/IMG_6053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o0S6gl-E6i4/UE14p6KAGuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/2itsbiKxxEQ/s320/IMG_6053.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Completely metaphoric. Promise.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I did get the ritual "Hello from Tacoma" photo, but you'll have to find me on Facebook for that one. Variety is the spice of life!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We spent the night in an abandoned hay field about 50 meters from the ocean. Oh, and we had chicken. Seal bought a chicken in Brookings. An entire chicken.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- - -</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day was foggy. And then we met Janna.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rwJOMii_SKk/UE15dln14tI/AAAAAAAAALA/32IHPtGGNBs/s1600/IMG_6073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rwJOMii_SKk/UE15dln14tI/AAAAAAAAALA/32IHPtGGNBs/s320/IMG_6073.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
This is Janna, by the way. Not just some random photo I found on the internet.</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Well, now it's a random photo on the internet.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Janna is from Wisconsin. She is FAST. We did 84 that day and it was her <i>shortest day. </i>So basically, Janna's a badass.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We went through the redwood forests... (more photos on facebook)... and then we met Bob! Well, Bob caught up to us. After much hassle, we managed to meet for dinner. Dinner with Bob, the Bosnians, and Janna. Oh, it was a good night.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next day was a day of goodbyes. I had already said goodbye to Bob. Janna left early that morning, not to be held up by us slow folk. That day, Sandro, Seal and I made it to Arcata, where I was to meet my cycling partner for the rest of the trip, Ken. I stopped at a bike store to buy a waterproof jacket, as my current "waterproof jacket" only lasted about ten minutes. After much flailing and asking of directions, we finally found an internet cafe, where I pulled out my laptop to update my blog and found it... WET.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I didn't turn it on. I did say goodbye to it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then I said goodbye to the Bosnians.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MbFDr8N-SoE/UE1654htn7I/AAAAAAAAALI/EUPkMwf5Ry0/s1600/IMG_6094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MbFDr8N-SoE/UE1654htn7I/AAAAAAAAALI/EUPkMwf5Ry0/s320/IMG_6094.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Goodbye, Bosnians.</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was a sad day. But then...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-- <i>tune in next time --</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Okay, so I'm updated to day 12 now, and on day 21... catching up... phew.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Goodbye from Carson City!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2627362475464542743.post-7949480592524046642012-09-09T11:25:00.000-07:002012-09-09T11:25:40.798-07:00Map Update!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sister Jenna here with a very brief Kyle update! We have not heard form him, but he posted on his FB yesterday that he was in Cook's Station, CA! Should make it to Nevada today.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
At this rate he might beat the snow home!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CxpXR-XH0ho/UEzeiRURbpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/lCqtrlC5OQE/s1600/DiProgress!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="411" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CxpXR-XH0ho/UEzeiRURbpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/lCqtrlC5OQE/s640/DiProgress!.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />JMCookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16438319243734575056noreply@blogger.com0