Colorado

Denver

Hanging out at Joanna's workplace

Frisco

Matt's brother's Party

Frisco

Matt and Annette

Breckenridge Brewery


Mile High Stadium

Cigars on Mr. Santone

Warm Welcome

The Columbine, State flower of Colorado

Tonight is our fifth and final night in Denver.  We've had a wonderful time hanging out with Bobby and Joanna, and getting to know Matt and his wife Annette (make new friends and keep the old...). On Saturday night all of us went to a party at Matt's brother's house featuring "washers," an adaptation of horse shoes (a definite improvement upon the original).  Every one at the party was incredibly nice, and it was a real pleasure to meet some of Matt's family.  The next day the two of them took us up into the mountains to introduce us to some true mountain biking on the Peaks Trail from Breckenridge to Frisco.  It was only about a ten mile ride, but the terrain was a bit different than what we're used to.  Add the altitude (I think our highest point was close to 10,000 feet) and it make for an exhausting day.  Some parts of the trail were a bit technical, and I took a pretty gnarly spill at one point (Ryan saw it all and said he was surprised I walked away from it), but other than (and including) that it was a total blast.  Afterwards Matt and Annette brought us out to dinner at the Breckenridge Brewery, one of approximately one million micro-breweries in the area.  Matt and Annette are such beautiful people, I'm so glad we met them, and as we told them we are so happy that they are expecting a child in a few months, because they are just the kind of people who need to be raising the next generation of open, warm, hospitable Coloradoans.

Bear sign

Yesterday we took the bus to Boulder with Bobby and Joanna, and went out to all-you-can-eat sushi and bubble tea.  We also got to meet some of Bobby's friends who live there.  Today we took care of some bike maintainance business and spent some time down town.  Tomorrow, westward ho.

Go Broncos (this is for you, Corey!)

Sidling Up to The Rocky Mountains

Matt is a former Division-I basketball player for Colorado State University, who also played professionally in New Zealand for a number of years before returning to the states. Now he gives private lessons and runs basketball clinics for young athletes.

It was our great fortune that our recent mechanical disaster coincided with just such a clinic being given at the high school in Idalia. When I was in town looking for information about how to get to a bike shop, somebody in the post office suggested that I swing by the gym to see which way this out-of-towner would be heading at the end of the day. Turns out he was headed for Denver.

Matt had room in his jeep for us and our stuff, and even had a bike rack (usually used for mountain bikes). "Man," I said, "we really ran into the right guy." We had a great time riding over the Colorado plains and into the city with Matt, and he invited us to come ride mountain bikes with him and his wife tomorrow.

So we cheated about 152 miles on the ground and about 1,500 feet of elevation in a jeep. Any way, we should have plenty of time to atone for our sins in the mountains. Now we're staying with our dear and beautiful friends Bobby and Joanna.

COLORADO!

We might have gotten carried away with this one...but we were excited!

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas any more

The power lines couldn't bear to watch us ride toward the state line

So long, sunflowers!

We rode 70 miles, yesterday, to Idalia, Colorado. Lightning storms flickered on the horizon as we crossed the state line. We could see but could not hear. I suffered my fifth flat in the dark just east of town, thanks to the Goathead, a thorn which is apparently famous around here for flattening bike tires. Dustin's grandmother runs the only motel in town, The Prairie Vista, and he arranged for us to stay there last night, no charge. Ryan's first flat of the trip took place this morning, just west of town. The valve on his only spare tube was busted during installation, which he tried to replace with the valve from the old tube, but only managed to make that unusable, too. Now, we can't ride anywhere without first visiting a bike shop, and there ain't one of those (or much of any thing else) for another 80 miles. We'd have to go a bit off course to get there, unless we want to go directly to Denver. Looking to hitch a ride. Apparently, there was an armed robbery in town, this morning. We've been advised not to accept rides from any one driving a light blue mercury with a busted grill. Duly noted.

For Pops

St. Francis - Kansas

Seneca to Washington

Dwight and I were walking in downtown Seneca, KS at dusk when I started talking to this really nice woman, Linda. She was attending the main street event she was directing, a Saturday Night Live in Seneca (a town gathering on main street where people bring their lawn chairs for a night of food, drink and free entertainment). I bumped into Linda as Dwight was talking to a group of townspeople, after a brief conversation she invited us to stay the night at her guest house. It was only a quarter-mile from downtown, we got to take showers and sleep in comfort. In the morning, she made us breakfast and let us check our email. Thank-you Linda, Rick and Kennedy!

Mike, the Fire Chief in Washington is the man! He found out we were cycling through western Kansas and eastern Colorado with only a couple liters of water, each. He stressed that the towns were going to get more distant and much smaller, with less to offer. As he took us for a short tour of downtown in his van and showed us a great spot to camp, he gave us some good advice for the road ahead. He dropped us off at the gas station so we could get something to eat but he was back in no time with two nalgene bottles he grabbed from his house for Dwight and I. We accepted with many thanks.
Then!...he came back with a camelback for me! (a camelback is a 2 liter water-bladder that attaches to your back like a backpack and you drink from it out of a hose- pretty fancy and expensive) He must have seen that Dwight had one and came back with his, which he gave to me. The camelback has been the greatest addition to my gear so far and I'm not sure what I would have done these past few days of 100 degree heat without it. Thanks Mike!

Clouds

What a blessing. Today, they hid us from another hundred degree beating. Since Kansas City we've slowly climbed 2,410 feet closer to them (and to Denver), putting us at 3,320 feet above the sea. We've got another couple thousand to climb before we get to Mile High. I think the tallest of Colorado's mountains is about twice that (maybe more?). Hopefully we won't have to go that high.

I don't...unders...stand... what can this mean?

Dry Western Kansas Soil

This might explain why we're seeing more grazing lands. It must be hard to raise crops on this cracked earth.

We spent last night in a park by a dried-up lake in Atwood, KS, at the end of a 65 mile day. We had to spend half of our energy wrestling that brutal Kansas wind we've heard so much about. It finally caught up to us, and came out of the southwest with a vengeance, pushing us back while trying to knock us off the road. It had plenty of time to gather strength while blowing over those leagues of golden stubble left by the harvested wheat, or sweeping across the unkempt yellow and grey beards of the low rolling hills.

Speaking of which, the flatness of Kansas (if the northern part of the state is any indication) has been grossly over-stated. It's far from mountainous, but is hardly flat, either. Rollers all the way.

Yesterday was the third consecutive day of 100+ degree heat. The day before we rode 92 miles to Norton, where the sheriff's department gave us vouchers to stay in the Hillcrest Motel, courtesy of the local Ministerial Alliance.

What else have we seen in Kansas? Huge weeds growing out of the cracks in the road, giant ant hills, wild sunflowers, and over-sized bugs. I mean flies with two-inch wing spans. The biggest nuissance has been the grasshoppers that lie all along the roadside, who like to jump directly in our way as we go by. They seem to like bouncing agianst our spokes and clinging to our legs.

Entrance to a giant red ant hill

Open spaces

HALFWAY, BABY! officially

The exact geographic center of the 48 contiguous states

Usually there would be a picture of both Dwight and I but as you see, it's just me. Dwight is far ahead of me. He's been tearing it up since we got on route 36, across northern Kansas. He means business and I can barely keep up with him.

I was lucky enough here to get up close to him in action!

You can feel the intensity behind his sunglasses and look at those legs!

He's gotta eat a staggering amount of healthy calories to maintain this pace.

Who would win in a fight? I don't know anymore... My bike has gone 2,000 miles without even a flat tire.

This picture of the tank was taken at the town center of Atwood, Kansas, 55 miles from the Colorado border and another time zone! We stayed in the town park last night and I showered in some really cold, smelly lake water. We're planning to be in Denver in 3 days drinking Fat Tires with Bobby and Joanna, two very close friends from home.

Over the past six weeks, our friends and family have been asking for places they can send us notes or cookies along the way. Bobby and Joanna were kind enough to offer their address to anyone that wanted to send us some shtuff.

Bobby and Joanna

1412 Steele St Apt#206

Denver CO, 80206

The Original Futon

I spent the night on this 1940's-era futon at Dee's house in Mankato, Kansas (65 miles from our previous stop). Dee calls it "the original." It was Ryan's turn to sleep in a bed, but he absolutely refused. He is aggressive in his generosity. He says he holding out for a king sized.

Dee waited on us at a place called Critters, where the owner, Kathy, paid for our dinner. Dee's son is a cyclist, which partly explains her sympathy for us. But I mostly think it's just because she's nice. Her home is tastefully decorated in the paradise aesthetic. Palm trees, sea shells, bright colors, sun and sand. Nice. A little taste of where we're headed for. She has three cats and three dogs, most of them rescues, her most recent adoption became a mother of nine pups just six weeks ago.

Note: If any body cares, the maps to the right have been updated to accurately reflect our course to date, including all the stops along the way.

Atchison, KS Posse

We ended up hanging out in Atchison, KS on Thursday night, July 17. They happen to have a carnival in town for their annual Amelia Earheart celebration, which meant a busy town and many people to meet.

We stopped into the only restaurant still open at 10:30pm for a late dinner and encountered three girls: Natalie, Lexie, Christina. (who then invited the rest of the crew to hang out) We had fun hanging out but it was getting late so we retired to our home for the night, the Benedictine College dorms, thanks to Mike and Donna.

Kansas

This is the state i've been most anxious about for the past two years and we're just about in the middle of it. This is the "nitty gritty." This is our introduction to the west. This is the first state where things are much bigger, longer and hotter.

We're traveling on the northern tier of the state, on the Pony Express Highway, Route 36, all the way to Denver and it's been over 100 degrees for the past two days.

So far, the trip on a whole has been concentrated with new experiences, new people, and new places. Though, I have been a bit concerned about Kansas because everything I gather from people i've met along the way, this state is suppose to be "nothing but wheat and pro-life billboards for 600 miles." (I've been hearing this ever since Pennsylvania...I thought these warnings would diminish once we approached Kansas and the people who know it best...but no.)

The most noticeable of the challenges from day to day is the varying terrain. There are incredible mountains to climb, huge hills to bomb and weathered pavement to navigate through. These altering physical challenges, like climbing mountains or riding through rain/wind storms are enjoyable, for the most part. On the other hand, the unvarying mental challenges, like the monotony of the corn fields of western IL are the most challenging, when you feel like you aren't advancing.

I guess we're just at the point of the trip where we just have to get through it. Colorado is coming very soon and the rewards of getting through Kansas are great. It seems like in many instances in life, the harder you work for things, the more rewards you reap in the end and there are plenty of things to look forward to in Colorado.

The Next Great Flatness

Everything about our visit to Kansas city was awesome except for the dispute I had with the manager of Papa John's about our order which was not settled to my satisfaction. Oh, well! After three nights in their house, Jordo, Linda, Dane and Shane feel like old friends.

This guy knows

On the way out of Kansas City we stopped at a locally famous barbecue place called Oklahoma Joe's for lunch. The french fries were good. So were the onion rings. I had both, then felt like I was going to suffer a heart attack. Ryan declared that he was turning a new leaf on unhealthy foods.

Ryan spotted these guys east of Kansas City

Genghis Khan. All you can eat Mongolian Barbecue. Yessssss

Across the state line the famously flat Kansas was waiting with a couple of monster hills. By now I've learned not to take flatness for granted. I'm sure it will come soon enough, and we'll have plenty of time to get acquainted on the way to Denver.

I've never understood this arrangement. Does the toilet not perform the function of the urinal? Will they ever be used simultaneously? The proprietors of this establishment need to invest in a barrier, then this will no longer be awkward.

Yesterday we rode about 68 miles through the glacial hills of eastern Kansas. I suffered my fourth flat of the journey just short of Atchison, birthplace of Amelia Earhart, and that's where we ended up staying the night. We happened to arrive on the eve of a festival in her honor. Last night the center of town was lit up with a carnival, tonight there will be a concert and tomorrow night a big fireworks display. We met a few local girls who were really cool at a place called Taco Joe's, and they introduced us to a bunch of their friends. I got some guac and Natalie (Nathalie?) gave me some potato ole's for free (basically tater tots). We also made the routine stop at the firehouse, where a camping spot was recommended, and showers at the YMCA promised in the morning. Just as we were about to leave Taco Joe's to pitch a tent, a woman walks into the place and asks if we're the kids who stopped by the fire house. Then she tells us that she is the housing coordinator at nearby Benedictine College, and that she had been driving around trying to find us since her husband (a fire fighter) had told her about our situation, in hopes of giving us a place to stay. So, thanks to the determination of this wonderful woman (Donna) to help us out, we spent last night in a college dormitory. She said, "I'd hope if my boys were doing something like this that somebody would help them out." We showered, washed our clothes, and got a good night's sleep.

Audio Kinetic Assault in Kansas City

After a very long and late 80 miles, we arrived at Jordo, Linda, Dane and Shane's place in the Raytown area of Kansas City. It was about 11:30pm when we finally got there. We hung out for a little bit with Jordo and Dane and their three dogs, Scarlet, Paris and Cody before we went to bed.

Jordo and Dane play in the band, Audio Kinetic Assault. I met both Jordo and Dane for the first time, a while back in Madison, Connecticut when my friend Matt was recording one of their odler albums. Some of our friends back home play in the band These Green Eyes. Audio Kinetic Assault are good friends with our friends, These Green Eyes, which is how we were set up with a spot at Jordo's house.

We weren't anticipating staying in Kansas City more than one night but they invited us to stay as long as we wanted. We were enjoying it and there was much to see, so we ended up staying for three days.

The first place we checked out was the zoo. Jordo, Linda and Dane all work for the Kansas City Zoo. They snagged Dwight and I a couple complimentary guest passes and we checked out a good portion of the massive zoo.

After the zoo, we went to a Mongolian buffet restaurant in the Plaza area of downtown Kansas City. I had three heaping plates of food and afterwards we went to Gilhouly's for a beer across the street. Jordo sharked Dwight and I in some pool.

It was a real pleasure hanging out with those guys in Kansas City. They made us feel at home and hanging out with them reminded me of being with my friends back home.

http://www.myspace.com/audiokineticassault

http://www.myspace.com/fulleffectco - Jordo's clothing co

Armstrong labrador

So I'm rolling up on this hill with one ring up each sleeve, ready to take it nice and easy--as a fellow on a ten speed is forced to do when he is confronted with any mention-worthy incline--when the blonde beast sidles up beside me, a fearsome, golden blur out of the barn yard. He's moving at a full gallop, making a b-line for my beautiful calves--I can tell he's jealous--I try to talk him out of it, "hey buddy, that's alright," but he's not having any of my sweet nothings, and keeps charging. No words are exchanged. He doesn't seem the type to waste energy barking. I look at him and he looks at me and we both know what's at stake. Actually, it's hard to tell what his intentions are, but I'm not about to wait around to find out. Thankfully, I've already set the contingency plan in motion--pedal faster. So, instead of dropping down into those reserve rings, I'm shifting up, thumping up that hill, trying to put some distance between me and that menacing, fang-filled grin. As I push as hard as I can, I start to pull away, thank God.

I'm over that hill and have got some room behind me, and I look over my shoulder expecting him to be slowing down and quitting the chase, only to find that he's not at all discouraged, still coming along full clip. Little by little he loses ground, but he keeps coming with the same determination. Over the crest of one hill, then another, he's always there over my shoulder, now on the black top, now on the grass, always moving in one direction. Miles of road pass under me and still he persists. Around the bend I think I've lost him, but then he appears, a yellow speck in the distance. It's almost more horrifying than that first moment, because then there was the possibility of escape, and now it seems that if I ever slow down he's going to catch up. I can only maintain this pace for so long. Approaching the center of town I think, maybe I can hide in one of these shops? They're all closed. Oh my god. I look over my shoulder once more, and he's out of sight. So is Ryan. I wonder if he made it. Maybe the beast turned, saw him coming, tackled him off his bike and gobbled him up. Hope Ryan can wield that hand pump effectively.

Then, I see that familiar shape in the distance. Ryan's coming around the bend. No dog in sight. "Did that fella give you any trouble?" I ask him as he rolls up. "No, he pretty much ignored me." Unbelievable. "Worn out from the chase," he offers. Guess my legs just looked that tasty.


Long day, today. 80 miles to Kansas City.

Hannibal, MO

After a long day on the bikes, Dwight and I checked out downtown Hannibal, MO. We celebrated passing into a new state at a local bar/restaurant with a beer. On our way out, we ran into a couple that looked like they had been well-traveled, like us. We talked for a bit and found out, Justus, the guy in the couple, had made a pontoon houseboat and was taking it down the Mississippi River from St. Paul, Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico with little use of an engine, just floating down the river, Huck Finn style.

He asked us to come along! He said we didn't have to decide then but we exchanged numbers and he told us to call him if we wanted to go with him, even if it was just for a day and travel about 20 miles downstream. After a quick talkover, we figured that the southeastern flow of the river would take us about 15 mile off course but in the end, we knew that opportunities like these were what made the trip so awesome.

We stopped at the Hannibal Fire Department after our encounter with Justus and talked to Mike, the Battalion Chief of the crew. He invited us to stay the night. We got to take showers and we even ate with the rest of the crew (they cooked us some brats on the grill).

Justus

Another dog chasing Dwight

Big Getter

"There's nothing worse than going through life with a great big wanter and a little bitty getter. The way to stay happy is to make sure your getter is always bigger than your wanter." These are the words of Justus's great grandmother, whom he never met but whose wisdom has been passed down to him by the intervening generations. Hence, the name of his vessel, Big Getter. We met him in Hannibal, just over the border of Missouri, and he offered to give us a ride down river the next day on a pontoon boat he had designed and built himself, and which he had been piloting down the Mississippi since June 1. We thought about it for a minute, which was about how long it took us to realize we would have to be fools to pass up the opportunity. So we met him on the dock in the morning and spent the day drifting down the river, playing dice and shooting a beebee gun at a floating target. The water was milky with debris churned up by the recent floods. Apparently not a week ago all the roads and bridges around here were closed, so we timed this pretty well.

Lock and dam 22

Justus is an awesome guy and he showed us a really good time (you can follow his journey at biggetter.com). We landed about 27 miles down river at Two Rivers Boat Club on the Illinois bank, across the water from Louisiana, Missouri. There's also a town of Mexico and a town of Paris within fifty miles, so it would be easy for us to pretend to be well-traveled. Paris, Mexico and Louisiana, all in one day! Lloyd and Mary from the marina gave us a ride across the treacherously narrow bridge, and directions to their home in Bowling Green, where we camped for the night. We tacked on 11 miles of riding to get there at the end of the day.

These signs confused me, at first. Junction with Nine Inch Nails? Apparently Missouri has not only numbered routes, but lettered ones, as well.

From Bowling Green we rode 74 miles to Moberly, "The Magic City," where the fire house hooked us up with a shower and a place to camp in Rothwell Park. Slept like a baby. Yesterday we ate lunch at a Mexican place called Santa Fe (very good) where they served us water in the biggest glasses I've ever seen. With our bellies full of beans we rode 67 miles to Marshall, where the fire department helped us get vouchers to stay in a motel(!) last night.

Missouri River Crossing

Recent deaths: One gofer, two big, awesome frogs, four unidentifiable gut rugs, two little baby turtles, one of what looked like a small sloth or monkey, five raccoons, seven rabbits, and one magnificent doe, her beautiful, delicate face undone, deflated, ruined.

Missouri, WHAT!?

Hank the Tank

After our stop in Emden we continued on to Easton, IL where we met up with a great rain storm, at first. Then the lightening started and it wasn't long before the lightening was striking right next to us. We came to the decision that we should stop riding and look for the next porch available to take cover under. The next porch happened to be guarded by Hank the tank, a very territorial 100 lb. male, fawn, boxer. We didn't know of his presence until we were halfway down the driveway and it was too late to go back. He was barking violently, slobbering everywhere and stayed within ten feet of us, watching our every move, as we tip-toed to the front door. His head, chest and paws were massive.

Hank the Tank

We finally got to the front door to be greeted by Dorris and she invited us into her house to take shelter from the lightening storm. We talked with Dorris and played with her cat to pass the time during the storm, she even made us some food as the lightening persisted.

When it looked like it had cleared up (around 6pm) we checked the weather channel to discover that there was only going to be a brief break in the storm and scattered thunderstorms were going to continue all night. Dorris and her husband invited us to stay the night, take showers and she washed our dirty laundry for us. She let us help ourselves to some breakfast in the morning and left us with some provisions for the road ahead.

She is a great example of the awesome people we're running into on this trip.

The fields of grain are freshly shorn

Lady luck landed on my arm, last night

As we got closer to the Illinois River we started seeing less corn and more wooded areas, open pastures and rolling meadows. We spent much of the afternoon in Beardstown's library and super market (hadn't seen the likes of them in a while) before crossing the river and continuing on to Sloam Springs State Park, where we made camp. West of the river there were actually quite of few hills, like we haven't seen since Pennsylvania. In spite of the time we spent in Beardstown, we covered about 81 miles, partly because we stayed on the road a little later than usual. The sunset was wildly beautiful in every direction. As the sky went dark the fields lit up with fire flies flickering like a million flash bulbs, which was something to see from a moving bicycle.

Today we crossed the Mississippi River to Mark Twain's boyhood home, Hannibal, Missouri. This makes one month and one day since we left New Haven, almost to the hour, during which time we've covered roughly 1,300 miles. That's not quite as far as we'd hoped to be by this time, but consider that fully six days (Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, Chicago, Chicago, Chenoa) and most of a seventh (Sandusky) were spent off the road, and we're not looking too bad.

Some neglected thanks that should have been made in the beginning: Thank you to my brother, Travis, for painting my helmet. It still looks beautiful. And thank you to Erik Becker for loaning me his tent, it has been a great comfort.

Dogs of Emden

Emden, IL

We were pedaling hard all day through the unending, western IL corn maze until a small town called Emden, as dusk approached. We decided it would be our home for the night. (Emden is a very small town in IL, the population is only about 600.) It was about 9:00pm when we entered the town, looking for a place to stay, and no one was to be found.

We checked the fire station and that was empty but we saw some trucks parked outside a small bar in the center of town. Dwight and I went in and started talking with some of the locals at the bar. One man, Owen, bought us both a beer and told us some information about the town. He said that everyone in town, who was still up, was at the community house for a town meeting, across the street from the fire house. We thanked Owen and said goodbye to everyone else in the bar.

We then went over to the community house. (We had no documentation on us about our trip, so I first felt a bit uneasy about barging into a town hall meeting with bike shorts on trying to explain ourselves...) We walked in the back door, which we were told to and there everyone was, about 25 guys sitting around drinking beers. I kind of tripped over my words but eventually got the point across and to our surprisement and luck, one of the guys had heard about our trip.

The Community House

They let us stay in the community house for the night which had an a/c. A couple of guys from the crew even came back with some food for us. They also told the local restaurant, Garber's, that we would be passing by in the morning. When we did stop by in the morning, our breakfast was free.

Corn and Beetles

The corn alone is taking its toll...but the beetles just make it worst. (you won't see any pictures of corn from me.)

The corn is so monotonous, it seems endless, it doesn't feel like we're going anywhere. We're just seeing the same thing over and over again. It's like a constant re-run of corn. There is no variation from one corn stalk to another, they're all the same, they're about five or six feet tall and they're growing about four inches away from eachother, so you can't see over them and they're much too thick to see even a few rows in between them.

THEN there are the japanese beetles that live in the corn rows. They are about the weight of a nickel and they collide with us at about twenty mph. As if the collision isn't enough, they try to grab on to us for dear life with their beetle legs which pierce through our bike jerseys and stick to our skin. It must be funny for passer-byers to watch us bike through the corn, dodging and ducking to avoid these things.

It's a road maze through these corn fields! I feel like Danny running through the Overlook Hotel labyrinth and these beetles are Johnny.

Avoiding the beetles on my bike reminds me of an old-school video game, Asteroids. You have to avoid these things (beetles or asteroids) as best you can with your bike or space ship, which isn't so maneuvarable. The beetles move slow enough but there are just so many of them, you are overwhelmed with which one to dodge.

These purple spires

I'm not sure if it's the advancing season or our westward progress, but the number and array of wild flowers gets more and more dazzling as we continue on.

Beetle Mania

The other day a plague of beetles descended upon us on Route 29. I've never seen so many bugs. We were literally in danger of being hit by a beelte every other second or so. Ryan dubbed it "The Beetle Gauntlet." On top of that, the endless fields of corn we'd been riding through were really testing our mental endurance. Ryan started to lose it. It was a hot day. I'm not sure of the temperature, but it felt hot. We went 69 miles from Chenoa to Emden, where we stayed in the American Legion Post 506.

We stopped just out side of Chandersville for some black raspberries

The corridor of corn

In the morning a family-run diner called Garbers gave us breakfast on the house. An older gentleman named Dwayne, who owns an auto dealership across the street from the diner, gave us some pocket flashlights as a memento. Some wonderful women at a bank in San Jose (which we've heard locally pronounced not as 'SAN ho-SAY,' but as 'san JOE-s') let us use their computer to plot a back-roads course to Missouri (our atlas only has the busier roads).

Just south of Easton a scary-looking storm started breathing down our necks. A great darkness was gathering in the west around a glowing electric green core. Horrifying. We saw flashes of light and heard rumblings in the distance. Not being a couple of guys to mess with mother nature, we stopped at the first house we passed, which was thankfully home to some wonderful people. The storm persisted until close to dark, and our hosts invited us to stay the night. The weather-shortened day kept us to 32 miles.

Yikes

The Lost Highway

To take a break on Old Route 66, we spent some time on the Old, Old Route 66, closed to cars. Though not in great condition, it was nice for a bike, except for the huge dirt moguls that accompanied the "Road Closed" signs posted every hundred yards.

Then they turned it into a bike trail...

Then it returned to its old ways...

Then it just ended

And we had to cross the grass

Happy belated fourth

Chicago, IL finale

Dwight, IL finale

Sorry that they're sideways. I thought it seemed the best frame for the fireworks, not realizing that I couldn't adjust the orientation of a video. Whoops! Just imagine you're watching from outer space, and the surface of the earth is to your right. Enjoy!

Lovely Ladies in Chenoa

We were rollin west down the historical Route-66 when we stopped at a gas station to get some grape juice and a rest. We ended up talking to this really nice gas station clerk that was interested in our story. After getting a quick rest, we mounted our rides and took off again, but we didn't get too far before we were greeted by Meg and Rachel in an SUV. They pulled up aside us and got right to the point, "are you guys riding your bikes across the country?" Rachel invited us back to her farm only a short way off of Route-66. We loaded our bikes into the back of the SUV and drove to her farm with our legs hanging out the back with trunk open. When we got there, we were introduced to her parents, Nancy and Joel and her dog Edy. They live on a farm and own 600 acres. It was Dwight and my first time on a farm, invited, so we took advantage of Joel's offer to check everything out. (I think they felt like they were boring us but it was really interesting for us, especially after living in the city or close to it our whole lives.) We got to take showers and use their computer to update the site a bit. Nancy made us some pasta and Dwight some vegan pasta.

We mentioned to Rachel that we were biking for a charity concerning a burn unit and she told us that her father, Joel is a trustee on the fire department. Joel made a phone call to the fire cheif and got permission for us to stay at the local fire department. I didn't know it yet but this was a saving-grace.

Rachel and her parents gave us a ride to the local fire department in Chenoa. They helped us assemble some cots for us, turned on the a/c and packed us some leftovers. We said our goodbyes and I thought that would be the last we would see of them...

That night I woke up at 3 am with a migraine...my head, neck and ears were killling me and I wasn't able to go back to sleep. I knew for sure it was something serious. I waited until 7:30am to wake up Dwight and told him about my situation. I knew I had to go to the doctors but it was Sunday and everything was closed except for a hospital 10 miles north of us in Pontiac but there was no way I could pedal that far in my condition. I didn't want to bother Rachel and her family after all they had done for us already but I was calling around using the yellow pages and couldn't find a taxi ride for less than $100 on a Sunday. Out of options, I called Rachel and she and her mother came immediately to pick me up. Rachel had to go to work for the day but Nancy drove us to the E.R. and waited with us for two or three hours while the doctors sat around scratching their heads. In the end, they didn't know what was wrong with me but with a lot of rest and some pain killers I was able to get back on the bike the next day. Thanks so much to Rachel, Nancy and Joel for being there for me when I needed it most.

Edy giving me a shot below the belt...

Chenoa

From Dwight we headed southwest on the famous Route 66. We got a late start (I mean a LATE start) and had the heat and the wind to contend with, so by the mid-afternoon we had only moved about 35 miles. Our luck changed (if not our mileage) when a couple of girls pulled up beside us and offered us their help. Apprarently the gas station attendant we had just been chatting with told them about our trip, and they decided to see if we needed anything. One of these lovely people was named Rachel, and she gave us a lift back to her farm in Chenoa, where we met her delightful family and had supper. They invited us to freshen up and use the computer, and Rachel's mom, Nancy, did our wash for us. They were so good to us. Ryan and I agreed that even if they had done nothing for us we would still feel grateful just to cross paths with such totally pleasant, wonderful people. Rachel's dad happens to be an authority with the Fire Department (imagine that) so he fixed us up in the Fire House for the night. I feel like the ancient Greek rites of hospitality are being observed throughout the midwest, most of all in Chenoa, Illinois. So we didn't go very far, yesterday, but after meeting people like this is it still felt like a huge success.

Dwight meets Dwight

We left Valparaiso with our panniers swollen with victuals, as Willis wouldn't let us go without all the contents of his pantry. We thank Willis and Ginger for sending us off as they received us, with overwhelming generosity.

I've fallen in love with another small, boy-named midwestern town, and this time I'm proud to say I share its name. Our 90 mile ride out of Valpo (a new record, by the way) left us in Dwight, Illinois. By then it was close to dark, and a bit of a ride to the next town, so when we heard that there would be a fireworks display worth writing home about, we decided to stick around. Everyone we met in Dwight was super-nice, took interest in our journey and was eager to help us out in any way possible. At the field where the evening's festivities were taking place, the representative from The Chamber of Commerce offered us free snacks, the fire chief gave us a spot to camp behind the fire house, and the police department agreed to let us shower in the station (the firehouse didn't have the facilities). We had more offers for places to stay than we could accept. The police station's shower wasn't working properly, and Ryan and I both independently reached the conclusion that it was like showering with a squirt gun ("super-soaker" was Ryan's terminology). The police were very apologetic about it, but it was all that we needed.

The fireworks did not disappoint. In a lot of ways I thought they were cooler than Chicago's. They were so much closer to us, and the explosions seemed to reverberate forever in the open space behind us. There was still a bit of lingering twilight that complicated the canvas on which the fireworks bloomed in an interesting and beautiful way. There was also a great variety of different fireworks, some of which I hadn't seen before, like these noisy white tadpoles that snaked hurriedly up the sky, or what I'm calling "the sleeper," which left a bright trail coiling up the lower part of the sky before suprising you with a big, colorful blossom way up above. The best part of the Dwight fireworks was the tempo. They took their time, delivering every blast with intention, savoring each one, combining them in deliberate, beatiful ways. They didn't succumb to the pressure to constantly crowd the sky with lights, which I respect. The orchestrators played with pauses, with darkness and stillness, clearing the pallette of the sky from time to time and holding the spectator in a moment of suspense before proceding with the next sequence. There were even a couple of tease-finales before the actual end, which I thought was really cool. Artfully done, Dwight, Illinois. Very impressive.

Dwight's historic windmill

This old lady smelled something interesting in Ryan's bag, and wasn't shy about investigating

Yesterday's roadside casualties included one big, beautiful snake, one red squirrel, one grey cat, and several raccoons, their upturned, ruptured faces frozen in an expression of mortal outrage.

All along our trail these constellations of white, feathery seeds have floated across our path. I used to attribute them to the Catalpa trees that abounded back in southern Pennsylvania, but their numbers have diminished and we still encounter these phantom germ clouds like apparitions with no discernible source. It almost feels like some benevolent spirit is sending them down to us on the wind, a little blessing, a little reminder of the infinity of possibilities that face us, like the forest of possible trees that drifts before our eyes.

Powerfully Smelling Onions

Is apparently the meaning of "Chicago." Wow. Our first night in the city we went to a pub with Uncle Tommy (though a pub deemed not authentically Irish by the two full-blooded Sons of Erin who were my companions), followed by a tour of the city by water at sunset. We dined on vegan delights at the Chicago Diner, and finished the evening off at a nice little place in Boys' Town known as Hop Leaf. The second night we explored the northern neighborhoods with some friends of mine from school, and later on went out to all you can eat Sushi and a short-form improv show at Comedy Sportz, one of Chicago's many improv theaters. Thanks to my good buddy Neal for giving us a place to stay. Day three we mostly lazed about in Neal's apartment eating hummus sandwiches, before getting it together in the afternoon to go check out Millenium Park and the Art Institute. After that we didn't have long to wait before Chicago's fireworks display over Lake Michigan (they do it on the night of the third), which was awesome. Then we hopped on the train back to the south shore and spent one last night at Willis and Ginger's place.

Millenium Park

Ryan on his noble steed, lugging his gear through yet another lightning storm. Notice his ever more grizzly beard.

The last of the hummus sandwiches. Ryan was forced to resort to the heel, which made for a very attractive sandwich, I thought.

Chi-Town

This was a long-awaited visit for me...

Willis and Ginger Dickens, our friends from Valporaiso, Indiana, invited us into their house with open-arms and a full refrigerator. They insisted that we make ourselves at home and stay as long we wanted with them. They provided us with everything we needed and more. They even went shopping, specifically for Dwight and his vegan diet, they were awesome.




From the Dickens' house, we took off for the city. We left our bikes behind at their house and took a train into the city to avoid the hassle of navigating into the city by bicycle through the rough parts of South Chicago.

The Fireworks in Chicago

When we arrived into the city, we were greeted by my Uncle Tom. He took us on a water-taxi ride along the Chicago River and out onto Lake Michigan. It was a great way to see the city and take some pictures of perspectives you normally wouldn't have, especially at sunset.

After the water-taxi tour, we went out to eat at the Chicago Diner, a well-known vegan/vegetarian restaurant in Uptown, Chicago. Dwight was pumped and so was I. They had a huge selection of raw, organic, vegan/vegetarian dishes and drinks. We stayed at my Uncle's apartment for the night and we had our own couches to sleep on.

Chicago

Uncle Tommy is tha coolest.

We have not been to Chile

But we have been to Valparaiso. Indiana, that is.

We awoke, the other day, from blissful slumber on the most attractive, most well-groomed lawn you've ever seen, anticipating a solid, 80 mile ride to Valparaiso, where Ryan knows friends from his last trip through the area. Midway through the afternoon we were setting a pretty leisurely pace, having spent some time in a library in Lakeville, updating the blog and talking with a few cool kids (what's up Bryan, Jacci, Kimmi and Austin?). We were about 30 miles along the trail, riding passed a cemetery in North Liberty on Route 4, when some guy in a pick up drives by in the other direction and says, "Guys need a ride to Valpo?" So I'm like, "that guy just offered us a ride. Who is that guy?" And Ryan says, "is that him?" And I'm all, "Oh yeah, it probably is. You are sharp." So our host Willis had borrowed a pick-up and surprised us en route, and so we covered more ground yesterday in the seat of a pick-up than on the saddles of our bikes. Is that cheating? I guess so. But on a 3,500 mile plus journey, we're calling it negligible, and hoping to be forgiven. Excuses, excuses. You can tell I'm a little guilty about this. But just LOOK at these LEGS!

And these tans!

And these flowers!

So, clearly, we could have made the trip, if we had to. Any way, Willis, his wife Ginger and her mom, Phyllis, have offered us everything imaginable and made us feel as at home here as we could possibly feel. We're in good hands in Valparaiso, Indiana. If we had only reached the Chilean version, we would BE at the Pacific, already. But think of all the fun we would miss going through that vortex! There's a La Paz nearby, too. I think there is a strong latino demographic, here, which might explain the naming trend.

It looks like a hassle to navigate safely into Chicago proper from here, so we're going to leave our bikes, spend some time in the city, and pick up the trail where we left off in a couple of days.