Nowhere, NV to Austin, NV: Free Water, Free Camping, Free Hand Waves

This 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?

Sadly, there weren't many donuts in Nevada.

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.

It was in the middle of the gate between a good sense of humor, and... hm.

They had good food and apparently free camping, which we missed out on, and offered some advice on water:

"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."

(...and that's also where we hide the bodies).

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.

Ken is in this photo somewhere.

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:

I promise, mountain, I'm not doing anything illegal.

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.

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.

Oh, THAT's where we are! -- special thanks to Ken's Droid.

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.

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!

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.

Did you hear something?

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.

Alright... it's go time! Lake Powell, here we come. Free swimming... heck yes.

Sister Update!

Kyle's in Bryce Canyon!

Sausalito, 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.

And also enjoying the view.

Er, no, this is just a photo of San Francisco. Never mind.

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! --

Boom goes the dynamite.

So yea, we rode the bridge, meeting some nice commuters on the way ("I want 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 all donuts and still not have enough calories to make it through the day. *cough* Anyways... not sure if that was bragging or not.

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.

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 hopping.

Did I mention they had strawberries?

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).

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).

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.

Oh and did I mention BICYCLE ROUNDABOUTS!?!

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!

"I'm Elliot and I certify myself to be awesome."

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.

Yvette also had great taste in art.

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.

You couldn't catch me near one of these if you tried.

...don't bother trying...

*ahem*

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).

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.

So anyways.

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.

Wish they'd taught me that trick at bike school.

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,

Tim!

Tim!

(oh, that's Tim, by the way)

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.

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).

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.

And the view was fantastic.

We also hung our food that night, being we were in bear country.

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.

In retrospect, it wasn't that hard to breathe at 1.5 miles high.

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.

Their sign was sideways first.

And honestly, between now and then, I don't have much to say. There are some beautiful moments.

Sun goes down... eyesore goes down, too.

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."

If you ask your parents about the trip to school every day (or if they ask their parents), you will likely receive the answer...

"I had to walk ten miles, uphill both ways, into the wind, and oh... it was always snowing."

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.

20 miles later, we looked up and saw the same thing.

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.

So... maybe just a little to the left?

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!

With love from Ely,

Kyle.

Arcata to Sausalito: KB, the Century, and Warm Showers

...but then, Ken!

This is Ken.

Or at least, my view of Ken.

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.

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!

Rather large trees.

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.

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 outside 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:

Eureka! ...wait.

For the record, it was about 2 PM, and we started in Aracata... 7 miles north (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:

I missed you too, old friend.

Sandro and Seal!

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?"

Perhaps that's a bit romantic of me, but so be it.

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.

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.

Pay money, get a picnic table.

- - -

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.

But no.

We kept climbing.

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.

Hey, fog. We missed you too.

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.

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.

(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)

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:

The fog rolled in about 3 AM. Don't worry.

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.

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.

Just to be clear... those are clouds... at the bottom of the photo.

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."

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:

Ah... the sun... the ocean... the beach... I could go on.

We also met Tom.

We love you, Tom.

Tom worked at the gas station in Jenner. He had an excellent sense of humor. We love you, Tom.

Shortly after leaving the gas station it got super 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 site has to make space for you. So we moved in.

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.

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:

Captain! Iceberg ahead! Er, no... just really thick fog.

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.

Okay, this is just a photo of death itself.

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 down.

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.

After climbing lots of stairs.

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).

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 all 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.

Coming soon... we head east!

- - -

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.

- - -

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.

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!

Almost to Utah!

Jenna here, Kyle's almost to Utah!

Bosnians, Broken Computers, and Bob

Still 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 whole day off), and now I'm back in the house and mostly caught up with everything. Time to tell you all about... the Bosnians.

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.

It looked about like this on that day. Okay, exactly like this.

Yes. I passed them. They waved. Nothing special. In fact, that happened multiple times a day.

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.

(now typing on 9/9 from a host in Carson City, NV)

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*

"The Bosnians:" Sandro on the left, and Seal ("say-all") on the right.

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).

Sand beach, too!

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.

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.

With my new education in bicycle fooding, I bought some bread and dried soup (canned soup has water weight).

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.

"Did you hear something?"

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 El Dorado!"

Later that night we met a cycle tourist who was actually on tour:

So yea, that's a guitar in that trailer. Oh, and my girlfriend is also my accompanist.

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.

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.

So worth it.

(In light of catching up, I'm skipping over a few details here, but the essential ones won't be missed)

The next morning, we hit biker central.

Oh... did you call in advance? We sure did.

(above is just a sampling of the cyclists we saw that day)

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.

Then, just as my legs were getting warmed up again (by the way, if you stop for even two minutes, it is super hard to get going again. It hurts. 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.

"Do you think I'll live?"

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 dive. Yes -- head first.

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.

Completely metaphoric. Promise.

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!

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.

- - -

The next day was foggy. And then we met Janna.

This is Janna, by the way. Not just some random photo I found on the internet.

Well, now it's a random photo on the internet.

Janna is from Wisconsin. She is FAST. We did 84 that day and it was her shortest day. So basically, Janna's a badass.

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.

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.

I didn't turn it on. I did say goodbye to it.

And then I said goodbye to the Bosnians.

Goodbye, Bosnians.

It was a sad day. But then...

-- tune in next time --

Okay, so I'm updated to day 12 now, and on day 21... catching up... phew.

Goodbye from Carson City!

Map Update!

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.

At this rate he might beat the snow home!