Pedal Trans-America 2008

Distance traveled

2008-09-02T12:35:00.002-04:00

In an 18-wheeler: 8 miles

In a pontoon boat: 27 miles

In a car or pick-up: 541 miles

On a bicycle: 3,202 miles

In total: 3,778 miles

All roads lead to Santa Barbara

2008-08-28T02:23:00.011-04:00

We rolled out of Yorba Linda with the intention of reaching Ventura on the first night, but, in spite of our ambitions, were happily ensnared about 40 miles down the road in the hospitable arms of Ryan's (and now, I hope I can claim them as my own) friends, Brendon, Larla and Stanislava in Culver City. They prepared us a hearty meal and shared music and spirits with us before taking us out on the town. They are a fun, warm-hearted trio and, though I was initially eager to be getting on, I'm really glad we took the time to stop and hang out with them on our final evening before the end. Ryan was courageous enough to let Larla give him a ride in a shopping cart we found on the street at midnight, and nearly paid with his life. Thankfully, he sustained no serious injuries, and we were still able to continue our quest the next day. We set out, in routine fashion, later than planned, leaving ourselves about half the daylight we needed to finish the roughly 100 miles to Santa Barbara. We rode down to Venice Beach, our first sight of the Ocean, and continued along the (very crowded) bike path up the beach to Malibu, where we got on the Pacific Coast Highway. The road strayed from the coast and became a bit elusive in Oxnard, where we ended up on route 101 for a bit, and I was forced to face my nemesis, the long-slotted storm drain, around every bend. Thankfully I was a bit too clever for the son of a gun, this time, and did not fall for that gap-toothed grin, again.

Venice Beach

What looked like a grass farm in Oxnard

From Ventura on we had bike paths all the way to Santa Barbara, some times winding along the coast where we could see the oil rigs lit up like Christmas trees out on the water, sometimes climbing up along the highway, sometimes wedged between two chain-link fences and illuminated like a little bicycle highway in its own right. Those last 26 miles seemed, to me, impossibly long. Every little town we passed through I was sure had to be Santa Barbara, but was disappointed to see signs proclaiming them "Carpinteria" or "Summerland." Where is this place? This road must just keeping stretching on in the dark, with intervening towns erupting from the growing asphalt to fill the space. At long last we started seeing signs for the Santa Barbara waterfront trail, and rode between rows of tall, dark palm trees, with the lights of houses burning on the hills to our right, and the ground descending down to the water on our left. And before long we were standing at the foot of Stearn's Wharf, and a friendly night worker had plenty of unsolicited advice about places to camp, but Ryan was already on the phone with Alec, cousin of our good friend Pietro Crespi, and we didn't need to know about campsites here or any where, any more.

Celebrating at a roof top bar with Pina Coladas, Stearn's Wharf

Ryan had said that the end would come quicker than we thought, and that it would have to be anticlimactic. "That's it?" He expected to say. And as we ate lunch in Malibu I was thinking he was right, that we couldn't actually be here, already, on the Pacific Coast. No way. I think it was good, for that reason, that we didn't stop there, when we first met the sea, that we continued up the coast to the endpoint that had been in our minds for the last two and a half months (and longer), not only because it didn't really seem finished before then, but also because those last, interminable miles in the dark, which drove me close to madness with anticipation (unable to take my own advice) made the arrival that much sweeter.

Santa Barbara

Ryan has given some of these thanks, already, but I think they need to be reiterated. Thanks to everyone who has welcomed us into their home, or onto their lawn, or has offered to do so; to everyone who has taken care of us, fed us, given us water, let us use a computer or a telephone, helped us out with equipment or repairs, given us directions, advice, or words of encouragement, or drawn us pictures, or sent us mail, let us shower or do our laundry or swim in their pool, had patience and given us plenty of room while passing us on the road, given us rides when we were stranded or broken down, let us float on their pontoon boat, let us get away with camping where we weren't supposed to, built and maintained roads and signs for us to follow or bridges for us to cross, manufactured bikes for us to ride, bought us hotel rooms, taken interest in our journey, and done a thousand other turns of kindness that escape my feeble memory. Thanks to wilderness for giving us a place to sleep so much of the time, and for not eating us alive. Thanks to dogs for keeping me on my toes. Thanks to anybody reading this for giving us some one to write to.

Thanks to my faithful friend, Ryan, for sharing this journey with me and for having the patience to stick with me, through thick and thin, all the way from one coast to the other.

Santa Barbara!

2008-08-27T20:36:00.009-04:00

We made it.

Thank you to everyone who opened themselves up to be part of our trip, and to everyone behind us at home cheering us on! It was a challenging ride and without the support, kindness and generosity from everyone along the way and at home, we couldn't have done it. Thank-you.

The benefit softball game was a huge success! Thanks to everyone who came out. A special thanks to goes out to Jim and Joe Schreck and The Fishtale for donating all the food for the event, and Kevin Donahue, Kevin Roxbee, Chris Dowler and Bob Gilhuly for organizing the event.

To all of those who still want to donate money to the charity, visit http://www.ctburnsfoundation.org/polg_forms.htm. You can donate online or print out a form and donate through the mail. The donation program on our site is expired and no longer working.

For those awaiting word

2008-08-26T15:02:00.002-04:00

We reached Santa Barbara in the final hour of Sunday, August 24, our 77th day out by my count. Thanks to Brendon, Larla and Stanislava in Culver City and Alec in Santa Barbara for giving us places to rest our heads during the last two-day stretch. More details, soon.

Firefighter Charity Softball Game: Madison, CT

2008-08-23T13:18:00.005-04:00

Saturday night, August 23 at 5:00 at the Surf Club in Madison, CT a firefighter charity softball game will be played to benefit the Connecticut Burns Care Foundation. The Fish Tale Restaurant in Madison, CT will be donating all the food for the event. It should be a great time, stop by for the game and a cookout afterwards!

Swing low

2008-08-22T17:42:00.011-04:00

Out of Las Vegas we rode 45 miles and over the border into California, where we camped in a state wildlife area just short of The Mojave National Preserve. The next day we rode over a mountain pass called "Mountain Pass" and down into The Mojave Desert, the hottest part of our route, where temperatures were getting up around 110 degrees.

You know a place is classy when the bathroom door has two knobs. This was an excellent Mexican restaurant in Baker which, as far as I could tell, was called "Mexican."

We stopped in Baker for most of the afternoon, and as the sun went down and things started to cool off a bit we set out to put on a few more miles before bedtime. Down Route 15 the most embarrassing and maybe the scariest event of the trip took place. Everything in silhouette against the headlights of oncoming traffic, the strength of my little light not enough to illuminate more than major obstacles in my path, I could not see the storm drain until it opened up underneath me, like a great square hole in the earth. It swallowed up my front tire and sent me over the handle bars and skidding down the black top. It was like a slip and slide, only less fun. I was banged up a bit, particularly in the left shoulder area (my left arm had been rendered useless, for the moment), but still had aspirations to pull my wheel up out of the drain and keep riding along (slowly) until I turned and saw the wheel's condition.

Like a liquid it had taken the form of its container, pouring down into the drain and spilling over the far lip, then resuming its solid phase in permanent testimony to that moment of trauma. Its shape was the saddest thing I had ever seen, a gesture of defeat, of an abrupt, violent end, the rim collapsed, the spokes coiled inward like a spider holding her stomach. Sad, sad, sad. Ruined.

Nobody stopped, but somebody called the police, and an ambulance showed up. I told the drivers I didn't think I needed a ride to the hospital, but they offered to give us a ride back to Baker so we could hitch a ride to Barstow, the next town with a bike shop.

I had read somewhere that making a sign with your destination on it is a useful hitchhiking technique, because if people register that you are going where they are going they are more likely to stop, or something like that. The best I could do was scratching out "Barstow" in the thickest letters I could manage with a pen on a brown paper lunch bag from the gas station. It might have improved my chances, but not enough to get anybody to stop. Then I thought I would switch up my tactic, and let my mangled wheel tell the story, but that was no more effective. It probably just looked more menacing.

So I just got turned down dozens and dozens of times, standing on the on-ramp holding up, alternatively, a paper bag and a broken wheel with my one good arm. Meanwhile, Ryan was having similar luck talking to people at the gas station (at least they looked him in the eye, mostly) when Sonny and Denise rolled in, and our luck changed. They were on their way from Las Vegas to San Diego with an empty truck bed and open hearts, just the people we needed to run into. So we got a ride to Barstow, 60 miles down the road, where we camped out in the parking lot of a department store, and nobody had heard of the bike shop that was supposed to be our salvation. We eventually did find the bike shop, but they didn't have a 27" road bike wheel (they only had motorcycles and a few BMX bikes), neither did the department store, the pawn shop, or any of the thrift stores in town.

No luck in the repairs arena, and one of my wounds was looking pretty gruesome, so I loaded my poor, one-wheeled bike and all my gear into a shopping cart and wheeled it across town to the clinic (this was a major improvement upon dragging the one-wheeled bike along on its own. Much less labor intensive).

A couple of x-rays revealed that I had not dislocated my shoulder or broken any bones (yes!) and a few stitches took care of the cut on my elbow. Good as new! I had never had stitches before, was very nervous and, for the record, they were not bad at all. Whew!

While I was getting stitches, Ryan was getting cozy in the entryway of the clinic

Battered, bruised, road-rashed, stranded in Barstow with no front wheel. It was a perfect time for an angel to descend upon us and carry us in her chariot 110 miles across the desert to Yorba Linda. Sandy came to the rescue and delivered us to our next scheduled stop, the home she shares with Rick and Alana, also known as paradise, where we have jacuzzied and secured a new front wheel, and should be ready to roll out for Santa Barbara shortly, only a two-day ride from here.

Que viva

2008-08-22T17:16:00.004-04:00

Where will you land among all those lights that brim over the ridge like a cauldron of agitated stars, peering out in curiosity as you approach? They are like saplings pushing up out of the edge of darkness, their little orange and yellow blossoms in the distance growing brighter, or like a string of gems glittering in the black bosom of the desert night.

Ryan was out of sight when I had my eighth flat on the road to Mesquite. Out of sight and in possession of the pump. So it would have taken me a while to get there had John not stopped and offered me a ride in his truck. He was a former touring cyclist, himself, so he sympathized. We strapped the bike between the cabin and the huge tank of baker's yeast he was bringing to Lost Angeles, and caught up with Ryan at the Nevada state line. Thank you, John!

And then we got to Vegas. Denise and Dave put us up in The Westin. Consider us completely, utterly spoiled.

Ryan makes a killing at Roulette

O, Living God

2008-08-22T17:11:00.002-04:00

Lately: less road kill, more living animals, thank goodness. I heard prairie dogs make the most improbable sound, twittering like frantic songbirds as they ran from me into their subterranean homes; crickets like the sweetest, most seductive sirens, drawing me, at night, to the jagged shores of dreams. I saw two quails and two jack rabbits, having never seen even one of either, before, in my life; a black widow guarding her eggs, just above my head as I lay on my back in the wide drainage pipe where I had sought shade in the hottest hour of the afternoon, and thanked God that I had not disturbed her more rudely; a flock of white birds circling a desert lake, seemingly having lost their way on some great migration to the north.

CALIFORNIA!

2008-08-22T02:15:00.002-04:00

Through the desert, into the promised land.

VEGAS!

2008-08-22T01:55:00.005-04:00

Yup. We actually rode our bikes all the way to Las Vegas. Then! Once we arrived, we were able to live like kings thanks to the kindness of a few strangers, now friends. Scott put us up at a hotel in North Las Vegas the first night in Vegas and we have Dave and Denise to thank for putting us up at a hotel right off the strip, the second night. It doesn't get any better than this.

A Vegas Night

The Ballagio

We had so much fun. We checked out as many casinos as we could and gambled a bit of money while we were at it. There was just too much to see and too much fun to be had, we decided we would have to visit again.

A Three State Day: UT, AZ, NV

2008-08-21T21:37:00.008-04:00

Dave and Denise

From the wonderful stay with Dave and Denise in St. George, Utah, we rode 120 miles (our biggest day yet) to Las Vegas, NV. Oh YEAH!

The whole ride was through the desert and some of the hottest and driest weather, yet (you couldn't leave your mouth open for one minute before you were choking from lack of saliva).

We had set out from St. George well rested and fed, thanks to Dave and Denise, to take on the desert and arrive in Vegas that day. It was a challenging goal but we were unexpectedly, very well assisted along the way.

I was a bit ahead of Dwight on my way south-west on route 15 to Vegas when I caught up to a car pulled over on the shoulder of the road. I first thought it was just another over-heated car but as I got closer, a man stepped out of the car with a couple water bottles and flagged me down. We talked for a bit, his name was Scott. Scott's a bicycle enthusiast and has done supported tours in the past. He was interested in our story because we were self-supported and he mentioned that he was looking forward to planning a self-supported tour in the near future. At the end of the conversation he asked where Dwight and I planned on staying that night. I told him, like normal, we didn't have anywhere specific planned to camp and that this was our normal practice. After finding out that we were roughing it, he reserved us a hotel room in northern Las Vegas. The hotel was beautiful and had a free continental breakfast we took full advantage of.

Then! If Scott wasn't enough...I ran into another two cool guys. Drew and Saul were on a road trip from Utah to the coast of Cali in their old-school VW bug. They pulled over in the same fashion as Scott did, Drew hopped out of the car with some water bottles and Saul hopped out with some energy GU. I talked for a while with both adventure enthusiasts and took some pictures. They were all about they trip and full of congratulations and pats on the back. It was great that they stopped to help me get through the desert and it was even more cool to meet two more awesome west-coast kids. It turned out that they were photographers, too! The following are the pictures they took and sent to me.

Saul

Drew

ZION

2008-08-16T18:35:00.005-04:00

Dwight - a blur on a bicycle

It's kind of dark but...UTAH!

Zion

Another long-awaited visit for me. It seems that is the case for most of the places in this part of the country. We rode right after we finished the North Kaibob trail in The Grand Canyon to Zion National Park. It was a night ride, so we weren't able to see most of the scenery on the eastern entrance of the park but when we woke up the next morning, inside the park, the sight was breathtaking.

Feeling so close to the end of the trip and the urgency to finish, we wanted to make sure we didn't forget one of the focuses of the trip which fueled it in the first place; to explore and enjoy the most beautiful parts of the nation. With this in mind, we decided to stay two nights in Zion, which made it possible to do a balanced, two day-hikes.

The first one being, Angel's Landing, which brought hikers to the very top of the canyon, a strenuous, steep climb.

Angel's Landing

The second one, The Narrows, which was an easier hike and brought hikers into the depths of the canyon, hiking upstream the Virgin River through the water.

The Narrows

The small portion of Zion we were able to see was unbelievable. There is something for everyone. Go there.

Mr. Hayles and the Grand Canyon

2008-08-16T18:11:00.003-04:00

My friend, Hayles from Connecticut, is now living and going to school in Phoenix, Arizona. He was originally the first person going with me on this trip but there were some last minute complications which prevented him from going. He's an avid cyclist and adventurer and made sure a long time ago that Dwight and I would call him when we were going to the Grand Canyon so he could meet up with us. He drove 5 hours from Phoenix to meet up with us and brought us bike supplies, trail sodas and Arizona mementos.

We camped out that night at the North Rim of the Canyon. We bushwacked off trail, made a fire, a quick dinner and set up camp. In the morning, he treated Dwight and I to an all-you-can-eat booofet. We ate a huge breakfast and set out on the trail.

We hiked the North Kaibob Trail down to Roaring Springs (one of the side canyons), dodging mule crap the whole way down the narrow trail. Despite the crappy trail, we had a blast and decided that we had to come back another time to hike the whole canyon along the Colorado River.

Thanks Ry for hanging out, it was great to hang out and see a familiar face so far from home.

a view from the top of the North Kaibob Trail

"Roaring Springs"

You Can Always Count on a Gordon from Black Mesa.

2008-08-16T17:26:00.005-04:00

Black Mesa Twin Cinemas

On a cold night on the Navajo Reservation we found ourselves in Kayenta, Arizona after riding just about 100 miles through the desert, from dawn till dusk. It was around 11pm when we arrived and we were exhausted, hungry and covered from head to toe in dirt and road debris. We grabbed something small to eat at the only gas station opened in town at that hour and I went off on my bike looking for a camping spot while Dwight watched our gear at the gas station. I rode around town scouting out spots to camp for the night. With absolutely no luck, for the first time this trip, I returned and shared the bad news with Dwight. Without any other options, we decided to set up camp in the local supermarket's front parking lot. As we were searching for a decent place to lay our heads, a movie theater employee walked out from the theater and asked us if everything was okay...I started talking with him for a bit and after understanding our story, he asked us if we wanted to sleep in the movie theater!

He invited us indoors and we immediately set up our bags and pads on the floor in the lobby of the theater with the comforting smell of popcorn saturating the air. It turned out that the movie theater employee was actually the owner and he lived in the theater, his name is Gordon.

Gordon invited us upstairs to the projection room and we were able to take a shower in the bathroom of the living quarters next to the projection room. We got all cleaned up and retired to the theater lobby for a great night's sleep.

In the morning, we were awoken to a breakfast which Gordon bought for us and had ready in the theater lobby. He introduced us to the laundry mat and the grocery store next door to his theater.

That night in Kayenta was truly looking bad. We had beaten ourselves to get to civilization and once we arrived, we found nothing which advanced our situation. We were beaten, battered and discouraged. Then we bumped into Gordon and everything changed. We were dry, clean, comfortable and safe because of his help. This was another example of the effect one individual can have on two others when he lends a helping hand. This is one of the dynamics of a trip like ours, which makes it so special. Thank-you Gordon.

Why must there be wild places?

2008-08-16T03:04:00.009-04:00

Because the human, like any animal, requires solitude as well as companionship.

Marble Canyon

Vermillion Cliffs

Grand Canyon

Our constant companion on Kaibab Trail

Kaibab Plateau

Zion

Toward Angel's Landing

The Narrows

I admire this man's shorts

Obese squirrels all along the trail indicate that this rule has not been strictly followed.

Picking up a few days back: from the middle of nowhere we rode 86 miles to Marble Canyon. We made camp up on a flat rock (safe from ants!) near a Navajo Interpretation Center at the rim of the canyon, and between the two of us saw dozens of shooting stars before falling asleep. The next day we rode 42 miles to Jacob Lake (where, incidentally, there is no lake, only a pond, and even that is out of sight on private property) and met up with our friend Ryan Hayles, who gave us a lift down to the north rim of The Grand Canyon. We found a place to camp in the dark, and in the morning hiked down one of the side canyons to Roaring Springs, which Hayles noted would be more appropriately name Whispering Springs. Still nice, though, and freezing cold. On the way down Hayles introduced us to the prickly pear. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are threatening, yet tasty. The hike was a little less than 10 miles round trip, with an elevation difference of 3,000 feet. The mule tours which we had to share the trail with all day kept things interesting. We said farewell to Hayles at Jacob Lake and rode 66 miles to Zion National Park. The following day we rode 10 miles to the other end of the park (we got a ride through a mile-long tunnel in an RV with a family from The Netherlands) and hiked up to Angel's Landing. Today, our second day in Zion, we hiked up Virgin River through what is known as The Narrows, and got our feet wet. We finished the day with a 35 mile ride to Washington (again!) where our new friend Dave picked us up and drove us the remaining 10 miles to St. George, where our other new friend, Denise, had a delicious meal waiting for us. Showers, laundry, soft beds. Oh, yes. It has been a little while since we've had such homely comforts! We've decided to take a day off, tomorrow, to recuperate from all this hiking and riding bicycles, before making our final push to the coast.

Giant Ants in the Desert

2008-08-11T19:53:00.004-04:00

One thing I never expected about this adventure was the vicious and in one case, monstrous ant! Before the powdery sands of the desert and the hundreds of ants of all varieties that live in it, there was no reason to use a tent on a nice night.

As I was laying down in the dark last night, I noticed a biting every once in a while on my exposed skin. At first, I thought it was the norm, mosquitos or horse flies, but once I turned my headlamp on I noticed there were hundreds of red ants, everywhere! They got in my panier bags, in my food bag and were climbing all over me, biting. Then I saw the mother!...

Ferocious looking. Some mutant ant that was most of the size of Dwight's index finger. No one told me about this...Ants aren't suppose to get this big...

I'll be tenting it in the desert.

Handsome Western States

2008-08-11T19:49:00.001-04:00

Yesterday we rode 50 miles to the middle of nowhere on Route 98 towards Page.

Tale of Two Rumble Strips

2008-08-11T19:46:00.002-04:00

One was nice, a little massage for my feet.

The other was mean, and beat me in the hands, and grabbed me and hit me in the mouth and knocked my teeth out, almost. But the road could not make up her mind, and kept changing back and forth between them. Oh, capricious road, why must you play so carelessly with my little heart?

They left these signs for us to follow

2008-08-11T19:43:00.000-04:00

This one is my favorite

Legend

2008-08-11T19:42:00.000-04:00

Beautiful Ladies on bikes! and the Mesa Verde National Park

2008-08-10T11:31:00.008-04:00

When we arrived at the entrance to the Mesa Verde National Park, we met three girls who were cycle touring, as well. Elsbeth and Brooke were from Alberta, Canada, and Lindsay from Colorado. They were visiting National Parks on their way south, down the United States when we bumped into them at Mesa Verde. We ended up hanging up hanging out with the girls that night and checking out the park with them the next day. It was a pleasure to meet up with them and share stories and food.

All laughs

New Mexicarizutah

2008-08-10T11:21:00.005-04:00

Mesa Verde bike caravan

We rode through a forest of fire-blackened trees to reach the ruins

We set foot on New Mexico soil at the four corners

And then we left

And went to Arizona. As you can see, Ryan has just done something totally hilarious.

Rosalita got her handle bars did

We've had very little luck with cell phone service or public computer access on The Navajo Reservation. The owner of the movie theater where we slept last night. Gordon, has been kind enough to let us use his computer for a quick update. Our recent daily mileage:2 miles from Durango to the outskirts of Durango, where we were cut off suddenly by another thunder storm and forced to take shelter under the awning of a shack behind a gas station; 35 miles to Mesa Verde National Park, where we met three awesome girls (also touring cyclists) who helped us get in on their parks pass and shared their campsite with us; 30 miles to The Ute Mountain Tribal Park Visitors' Center (plus 35 miles within Mesa Verde), another thunder storm cut us short; 97 miles to Kayenta, AZ, where we slept in the theater. Thanks, Gordon!

This old fella finally kicked the bucket. Made it all the way from New Haven to Kayenta

Replaced this once-flat Continental. Must have been a pinch flat because the tire still looks strong. Call him Lazarus.

Welcome to the desert, son

Red Mountain Pass

2008-08-06T16:45:00.003-04:00

Do not anticipate the summit. It does not need your expectation to arrive. The promise of an end will only make you more anxious, more desperate, the longer it is delayed. No, it is better to expect to climb forever. Then, you cannot be disappointed, no matter how long the summit takes in arriving.

Ouray

Long way down

Ryan explores a mountain cave

Into the shadows of the valley at night

2008-08-06T16:31:00.003-04:00

In the distance the mountains grow, forming a smoky silhouette only dimly discernible in the waning twilight. As they approach, their enormity describes a stark, jagged edge, an impossible blackness carved out against the starry night. And those ghostly cliffs close in all around, standing tall like giants, quietly menacing, as rank upon rank of looming pines peer down darkly from the barricades.

A buck stands on the shoulder thirty paces ahead, in an island of light cast by the glow of a lonesome street lamp. The too sudden realization of his gaze startles you. He seems to you an apparition, staring, motionless. There is a strange power in his stillness, a self-assurance which makes you think that he must be more than the animal you see, all the vital energies of the wilderness manifested in the form of an antlered beast. And then, slowly but with confidence, he approaches.

We spent the other night in a gazebo in the park at Ouray (58 miles from The Black Canyon). I was a very comfortable until the sprinklers gave me a soggy surprise in the middle of the night. Ryan happened to be lying on the dry half of the gazebo. In the morning we bathed in the nearby hot springs. Ryan was disappointed that they didn't look more rustic and less like a pool club.

Yesterday we crossed the San Juan Mountains at Red Mountain Pass (11,018 feet), Molas Pass (10,910 feet) and Coal Bank Pass (10,640 feet). In total we rode around 74 miles and ended up in Durango, where we spent the night at Jared's house, who is a friend of a friend.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

2008-08-04T20:56:00.005-04:00

Both of our first visits to a national park. The Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park is located about 15 miles east of Montrose, CO, off of route 50. People in the area spoke highly of it and recommended us to check it out, but they mentioned nothing about the climb up to the park, after pedaling through 65 miles of mountainous terrain, at sunset. The elevation of Montrose, CO is 5,806 feet and the highest point at the national park is 8,289 feet. It was just surprising to me that all the people we asked about the park never mentioned the 2,000 foot climb in 6 miles to enter the park, at the end of our day, in the dark. Good. For the better, probably, but totally worth it.

Let's make the most of our youth and ride our bicycles across America

2008-08-04T16:36:00.005-04:00

Riding your bike from coast to coast is the coolest job in America. Also, it's not a job. Yet.

I am just a scrawny boy from the wetlands of southern Connecticut. Wherever I can ride my bike, so can any body with two good legs.

What is good about traveling on a bicycle?
1. You can feel good about moving on the strength of your own body, and that strength only grows
2. You can move slowly enough to see where you are
3. As Hemingway has written, and as Gilhuly has quoted in a recent photograph, "you learn the contours of a country best"
4. You are exposed to the world, which means that you are vulnerable to more dangers. But your reward for this risk is an unmediated encounter with the places you move through. The sun and the wind and the rain all have meaning to you, because they touch you, and they affect you directly. The real temperature of the air, the strength and direction of the breeze, sounds and smells, all are available to you. Your relationship with the passage is imminent, intimate, direct, for better or worse.

Zach and Robin made us a delicious pancake breakfast (it was vegan). It gave us fuel to climb over Monarch Pass (11,312 feet high). We crossed the continental divide, there. Now, all the water that we see will be running towards the Pacific.

Blue Mesa Reservoir

Dillon Pinnacles

Wings!

That day we rode 65 miles to Gunnison. They say that winters in Gunnison are some of the coldest in the nation. Fifty degrees below zero is not uncommon. In Gunnison I met a woman on a bike with two small dogs trained to respond to commands in Italian. We received more than one invitation to hospitality, the most appealing of which was the couch and spare bed of Steve and Nicole, for which we were very grateful. Steve, if your name is actually Scott, please forgive me. You deserve to be named correctly, but my namemory is very bad. It's something I need to work on.

Yesterday we rode another 65 miles to Black Canyon of The Gunnison National Park, where we slept.

Black Canyon of The Gunnison

Our entrance to the Rocky Mountians

2008-08-04T16:30:00.006-04:00

Hello Rocky Mountains

Our introduction to the Rockies was climbing up to Windy point, our first summit. Windy point was also our first camping spot in the Rockies, the spot was tucked away behind this freight-converted home in the woods and in a very convenient distance to a local food mart, owned by the Kims from CA. The Kims, who also owned the freight-converted house, offered us to stay in it (above) but we decided that it would be nicer to sleep exposed, under the stars.

Our first respectable pass

After descending Kenosha pass at over 40 mph, we stopped in the small, high-plains town of Jefferson, CO. Both Dwight and I went in separate directions to fill up on water, Dwight had the better direction. He bumped into Garret, a real-estate agent and cool dude who owns a ranch, a realty office and a restaurant in town. He and his wife, Tess invited us to stay at their house. Tess cooked us dinner and we all watched a movie together at their house to end the night. We woke up a bit late and Garret remarked, "boy! you guys sure crashed hard." We got ready and met Garret at the restaurant where he had prepared us a hearty breakfast for the road ahead. Their openness, kindness and generosity still caught me by surprise, even after all our encounters so far.

The Moose-Caboose (Garret and Tess's restaurant)

Steady, mate, steady

2008-08-02T00:53:00.005-04:00

Crawl up one side, bomb down the other. That's the name of the mountain game.

Since we took to the mountains we have met with nothing but kindness and hospitality. We're getting less 'Why?' and more 'Wow! That's awesome!' The first day out of Denver (more like a half- or a quarter-day since we spent most of it running errands in the city) we rode 28 miles (and climbed about 3,000 feet) to Windy Point, just short of Conifer. The couple at Boulder Gas gave us free coffee and tea and let us camp in the adjacent lot. The next day we rode 40 miles and crossed the Tarryall Mountains at Kenosha Pass (10,001 feet), ending at Jefferson, where Tess and Garrett, who run a realty agency and a snack bar (in a town of 16 people), fed us and gave us a bed to sleep on. Our third day out of Denver finds us over one more big pass and 74 miles down the road in Salida, at the home of fellow cyclists Zack and Robin.

We've met with a lot of friendly faces between stops, too, from a free meal and computer use (when it was hard to come by) at the Knotty Pine in Bailey to words of encouragement and lunch money from a couple of sweet hearts in the Conifer post office. A lot of motorists are giving us affirmative little horn messages, so gentle that it's not quite "toot toot", but more like "t't...t't t't." And there are bugs that hang out among the red rocks that sounds like little machine guns.

Look what altitude has done to packaged food!

Colorado

2008-07-31T16:04:00.005-04:00

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

2008-07-30T02:14:00.006-04:00

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

2008-07-27T00:30:00.005-04:00

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!

2008-07-25T18:53:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-25T18:09:00.009-04:00

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

2008-07-24T18:09:00.002-04:00

St. Francis - Kansas

Seneca to Washington

2008-07-24T17:34:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-24T17:13:00.002-04:00

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

2008-07-24T11:39:00.002-04:00

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

2008-07-24T11:06:00.007-04:00

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

2008-07-22T18:43:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-21T17:21:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-21T16:09:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-18T14:52:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-18T13:41:00.009-04:00

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

2008-07-14T13:51:00.005-04:00

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

2008-07-14T12:54:00.006-04:00

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

2008-07-13T13:07:00.008-04:00

"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!?

2008-07-10T17:39:00.002-04:00

Hank the Tank

2008-07-10T17:05:00.005-04:00

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

2008-07-10T16:33:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-10T16:31:00.001-04:00

Emden, IL

2008-07-10T16:28:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-09T16:11:00.009-04:00

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

2008-07-09T15:44:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-09T15:28:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-09T15:21:00.004-04:00

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

2008-07-09T14:02:00.006-04:00

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

2008-07-09T13:55:00.005-04:00

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

2008-07-06T16:27:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-06T15:32:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-05T19:24:00.009-04:00

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

2008-07-05T12:16:00.005-04:00

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

2008-07-02T11:39:00.005-04:00

Uncle Tommy is tha coolest.

We have not been to Chile

2008-07-02T11:00:00.005-04:00

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.

Dear Indiana,

2008-06-30T13:17:00.007-04:00

I love your gentle breezes, and your sweet, little bitty hills that go so softly under my tread. I love them even more than total flatness, because they shield me from the wind, and they break up the monotony of an absolute plane. I love that deep blue over head that blurs into lightness around the edges, and all those benign, white clouds that dot the sky like a ghostly archipelago, or a herd of white stags. O, Indiana, I could roll on like this, forever.

Halfway through Ohio I started singing mariachi songs to pass the time as I rode along, and when I ran out of those I started singing anything else I could think of. Halfway through Indiana I became manic and started singing odes to the countryside. The sun and the sky and the fields were so beautiful. And, unlike Ryan, I don't have an iPod, so I have to find ways of amusing myself.

We had to cross some un-pavement to avoid getting way off course

These signs make me so sad. I can't blame a person for wanting some privacy, it just seems a shame that a fella can't wander down that lonesome road in search of shelter, or even conversation. I guess they save us time by letting us know straight off where we're not welcome.

The last of nine lives was wasted, here. Shame.

Amber waves of grain...

Ryan takes a sample

The day we left Fremont we rode 70 miles to Defiance, Ohio. That's the day we passed through the fair city of Wayne. The next day lightning storms kept us off the road for most of the morning, and strong head winds slowed our progress the rest of the day. As a result, we only made it about 44 miles, but we did make it across the state line and ended up in Auburn, Indiana. Yesterday we rode from Auburn to just south of Wakarusa, about 70 miles. As we approached Goshen we saw clouds unlike the puffy whites behind us. These had bellies dark with water, pregnant with the coming storm. So we got stuck in Goshen for a while. But the sun stays out later as we go west, so after the storm passed we had light until almost 10:00, and we rode through a glorious dusk.

A wonderful couple at a fork in the road let us camp on their lawn, last night. Their young daughter followed our movements with great interest from the rear window as we set up camp in the back yard. I think she was talking to the cat about us. Total cuteness. In the morning she brought out breakfast her mom had prepared, and handed it into our tents. So nice.

Indiana, BABY! and more

2008-06-30T13:02:00.005-04:00

After a long and flat western Ohio, we crossed into Indiana on Saturday night, June 29th. After our entrance into Indiana, we started looking for a spot to rest our heads for the night and found the next closest town on our route, Auburn. We stopped at the first fire station we saw entering the town and talked to the firefighters on duty, Gabe and Joe, for a bit about our trip and the charity we're riding for. They found out we were camping for the night and cleared it with the chief so we could set up camp on their lawn for the night but when I asked if there were any places to get some dinner around there, he replied, "you're better off downtown if you're looking for that sort of thing, we only have live cows around here."

Joe called the downtown station and said it would be fine if we camped on their lawn but when we got there we were pleasantly surprised. Tony and Jim, the firefighters on duty invited us to take showers in the station and showed us the fire-training area outside, behind the fire station. They said it would be fine if we set up camp in the "Survive-Alive" house, a house fully furnished, to demonstrate to kids what it would be like, and what to do, in case a fire. We were happy to call it home for the night.

We've been having to avoid route 6, The Old Confederate Highway, which is the most direct way east-west in northern Indiana. Route 6 is just too busy and unsafe to ride on. Because of this, we have to traverse the state along back roads that parallel route 6. There are many positive, beautiful aspects about doing this, even though it means more mileage and planning, but it also means some negative things, like country dogs. Country dogs are ferocious, territorial and great sprinters. The least these dogs do to bikers is bark violently at us as we pass by. This is terrifying because some of the time, the dogs chase after us, trying to bite at our ankles, tearing us from the bikes and try to kill us. Every time this happens, Dwight combats it with sweet-baby-talking these dogs to pacification. I had my doubts at first about his tactics but just yesterday I saw a dog lunging for him until he talked to it sweetly and it just lost steam and quietly backed down. You could see that the dogs still want to attack him but just don't have it in them to tear him to shreds when he talks to them like that...

AND by the way...I forgot to mention in previous posts, the quote of the trip, so far...the story goes like this: I believe we were in New Jersey and it was one of those really hot days when we were traveling hilly terrain, not going anywhere fast. Dwight and I weren't saying much to each other through the grueling ride to conserve strength, until we came to a small downtown area of a small town in NJ. It was about that time of day, so I asked Dwight if he was hungry for lunch. (I think up until this point, we were having sit-down meals for lunch) He said yes, so we stopped at this "food-mart," which was barely that, a small building that had as much variety of food as a gas station. So, I scrounged up whatever I could find...some cashews, chips, protein bar and some orange juice and payed for it. I went outside and starting eating my food quickly so we could get back on the road as soon as possible. Then...Dwight came out the food mart door with an orange juice in his hand...(and this was what led to the quote)..."Dwight, I thought you were hungry for lunch, what the hell are you doing with just juice?...(and with a tired, disgusted, valley-girl face on and gesturing with his hands) he said; "I DON'T have an appetite for SNACK FOODS, SNACK FOODS are not LUNCH, you asked me if I was hungry for Lunch, Snack Foods are Snack Foods!...I could've died laughing and I told him I should've brought one of my sisters, instead. We both couldn't stop laughing about it, afterwards.

I'm in love with Wayne, OH

2008-06-28T13:27:00.002-04:00

Yesterday we took a local cyclist's advice and left Route 6 for the less busy Route 281. It was probably the best decision we've made this whole trip. We stopped at a library in the town of Wayne, where we made yesterday's posts, shared our story with a few library-goers, and before we knew it, we were overwhelmed with gestures of generosity and kindness. One woman asked us if we needed anything, told us she lived just down the street, and then gave us twenty dollars. Shortly thereafter, one of the librarians told us that an anonymous donor had paid for us to eat at the restaurant down the street, The Country Market. While enjoying the delicious meal, served to us by a couple of very nice girls, we were approached by the mayor of Wayne, who said she had been told about our quest and wanted to come greet us, tell us she was glad to have us in town, and wish us well on our continued journey. These were just a few of the friendly characters we encountered in our brief visit to this community of fewer than 700 people. After we left, we couldn't stop grinning for miles and miles.

When we first reached Ohio, I was a bit disappointed by the "flatness" I had heard so much about, because it seemed to me that, though they were considerably smaller than their Pennsylvanian counterparts, there were still plenty of hills to be reckoned with. When I would register this complaint with Ryan, he would just roll his eyes and shake his head. But if this was supposed to be the flattest of flat, I had lost my faith in the existence of true flatness. Now, my faith has been restored. Flatness abounds, now that we've come a bit farther west. True flatness. Beautiful. A bit redundant, maybe, but refreshing after climbing those Appalachians on my ten-speed.

We've also encountered some pretty gnarly canines along the way through farm country, who like to bark viciously and give chase as we ride by. My technique for managing this situation involves talking to them sweetly with baby voices. I've had mixed results with that.

As you can see, we're approaching our first $1,000 on the fundraising front, which is exciting. We're not quite on pace to reach our goal, but hoping that things will pick up a bit as we advance along our trail. Even if everybody who visits the site gave just a couple of bucks we'd have...several dollars. A start, though, no? As an incentive to get more participation in this fundraising effort, I certify that whoever gives us the donation that breaks the millenium mark will be entitled to a kiss from Ryan. I can't guarantee that he will recognize the validity of that certificate, but as far as I'm concerned, he owes it to you.

Fremont and The Depot, Thursday 6/26

2008-06-28T13:19:00.005-04:00

From Jeff's house in Sandusky, we had a short and wet 30 mile ride to Fremont, OH. A firefighter and bike shop employee, Jeremy, and his wife, Lisa, invited us to dinner with some of their friends at a restaurant/bar called The Depot (a converted train station) and to stay the night at their house. Dwight and I shared a large veggie za and we had couple Great Lakes lagers. We had a great night and got to enjoy the company of some really cool people.

Jeremy heard that we were doing the bike tour from the charity we're riding for, through the Fremont fire department. Since it was right up his alley, he volunteered his house for us to stay at Thursday night (6/26). It was especially encouraging and affective for me to meet someone like him. A great guy with very similar interests as me, who is doing really well for himself and his family.

The night before we left, Jeremy did some work to our bikes and spruced up old Rosey. We had a great time hanging out with Jeremy and Lisa and checking out Fremont Cycle and Fitness Center. Thank-you, guys!

West of Cleveland

2008-06-27T15:33:00.005-04:00

Route 6 skirts Lake Erie going west from Cleveland, and as we rode it we kept catching glimpses of the lake through the trees. When we couldn't see the water, we could usually still see the big, uninterrupted sky that opens up above it.

The day we left Westlake we traveled about 50 miles to Sandusky, where we were lucky enough to roll into a firehouse full of great people. They gave us good food, hot showers, and comfortable beds. We spent much of the next day with one of those great people, Jeff, who took us to breakfast and hung out with us at his house until it was time to fulfill the main objective of our visit, a trip to the famous Cedar Point Amusement Park. He gave us a ride out there on his Russian-built, German-designed World War II motor bike.

Cedar Point has held Amusement Today's title for "Best Amusement Park in The World" for the past ten years, and has more roller coasters than any other park in the world, including the second tallest and second fastest on the globe. Needless to say, as a rollercoaster enthusiast, this was a trip I had been meaning to make for a while (though I didn't expect I would make the trip on a bicycle). The Millennium Force was all I hoped it would be, just beautiful. There was also a coaster called "Mantis" which you ride standing up, which I had never seen before. Top Thrill Dragster, the tallest, fastest guy, uses magnets to blast you to 120 miles per hour in four seconds (on a horizontal track), the force of which sends you up 420 feet before you plummet back down the other side. It's a short ride, but still worth the wait.

Just in case...

Jeff picked us up and made us some pizzas before sending us on our way. As we traveled west in the late afternoon, we encountered a couple of interesting smells. First, the unmistakable odor of ketchup, which was weird until we saw a Heinz factory on our right. Later, as the southern bend of Route 6 sent us through some marshy territory, the smell of decay, which at first I attributed to the swamp. We were rolling over what looked like dark, wrinkled leaves on the shoulder, which I thought nothing of until I slowed and noticed they were hundreds and hundreds of little frogs, lying broken on the road side. It must have been a great migration interrupted by this fatal swath of asphalt. I saw one little guy trying to make his way across the street, frozen in the middle, in the path way of an oncoming truck. I tried to chase him across with my bike, but he turned and hopped under my tire. Don't know if he made it under me safe, didn't have the courage to look back and see. My technique was careless, stupid. I should have picked him up and carried him across to safety. I regret my carelessness and its possibly dreadful consequences. I feel badly for the little guy, and his thousand brothers and sisters, their instinctive wanderings thwarted by the intervention of man.

We made the 23 miles to Fremont before dark, where another fire fighter and cycling enthusiast, Jeremy, had offered to put us up. We just can't stop meeting wonderful, generous people.

Dusk over Route 6

The Sandusky Fire Department

2008-06-27T14:57:00.007-04:00

The enormous, 420 ft. tall, 120 mph, Top-Thrill Dragster

We rolled into Sandusky, OH, home of the great Cedar Point Amusement Park and some of the biggest roller coasters in the world, on Wednesday 6/25. The firefighters invited us into the break room, where most of them were eating dinner, and we started talking about our trip. They were really cool guys. One of them bought us some "pop" and the whole shift pitched-in to buy us dinner. Alex gave us some spending money and some money for the charity and when the crew found out that we were visiting Cedar Point in the morning, Jeff and Zach gave us their tickets to the park.

While we were hanging out and eating dinner, the thunder storms hit again. We still had another twenty miles to ride that night from Sandusky to Fremont but the weather was terrible and dusk was approaching. When they saw how bad the thunder storms were they invited us to stay the night in the firehouse. We had our own rooms with beds and we got to use their shower and laundry room. That night we hung out for a bit, watched a movie and got a great nights sleep, out of the rain. They were an awesome group of guys and seemed very tight.

In the morning, Jeff, one of the firefighters took us out to eat for breakfast and back to his house to hang out while we were waiting for the park to open. We played some Call of Duty 4 on his Xbox and I owned Jeff and Dwight. Jeff and his wife gave us some spending money for the park and invited us back for dinner, after the park. We had a great time at Cedar Point and riding all the roller coasters but I probably had the most fun ripping down the street in Jeff's ride. Sooo sweet.

A Russian made motorcycle and side-car. It was a stolen German design. It even had a machine gun mount on it....

Cleveland

2008-06-27T14:54:00.004-04:00

The American Public Transportation Association named Cleveland's RTA the best public transport system in North America for 2007. We took advantage of the distinguished network to travel from our suburban hideout to downtown, where we visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (or "Rock Hall" as we kept hearing it). It was an interesting place, for some reason it felt different from any other museum I had been to before, but I couldn't figure out why. Eventually I realized that it probably had something to do with the fact that it was full of totems, artifacts and accessories to the art rather than the art, itself, kind of like an art museum full of famous painters' brushes instead of their paintings. There were some sections which described the progression of the art form, its historical roots, etc., but the exhibits seemed mostly to be invested in exploiting the aura of these sacred objects, the guitars and costumes of rock legends, even sometimes the seemingly irrelevant minutiae of their lives (Jim Morrison's middle school report cards, for example).

Anyway it was cool to see all that stuff, just a bit overwhelming, especially since we showed up less than two hours before closing. A highlight for me was an old collection of Beatles singles called "Incredible!" whose cover picture the members draped in cuts of raw meat and dismembered baby dolls. Apparently this cover art was not well received by the American public, and was quickly changed, putting the copies that survive among the most coveted of Beatles paraphernalia.

In the evening we explored the warehouse district with Jason. Thanks to Jason for being a wonderful host and welcoming us into his beautiful home. Its distinctive furnishings include a urinal in the basement, an area affectionately referred to as the "man cave."

These guys were in front of the Cleveland Public Library

Pittsburgh to Cleveland in three long days

2008-06-24T11:03:00.005-04:00

I had a lot of fun hanging out with Dan and his frat brothers. We ended up meeting a good number of them, despite it being summer-break. We had a huge cook-out with plenty of food and drink, threw the football around in the quad, checked out some of Pittsburgh and saw a Pink Floyd laser light show at the Science Center. Dan and his friends made us feel like we were at home. It was great to see Dan and meet some of his friends.

OHIO

We have been living like kings for a bare-bones, cross-country bicycle trip. It seems like we have been meeting people every other day that let us stay at their houses, shower and do laundry, until now. The last three days, I can't help but laugh desperately at the condition we're both in and the feelings of nostalgia it brings, from last years trip.

I mentioned in an earlier post about the most annoying day yet...It's been that day, compounded three days and two nights. Scattered lightening storms everyday (mixed with a hot sun, when it's not raining), no shower, little food, undrinkable tap-water, crappy pavement, head-winds, trench-foot, wreckless and pissed-off drivers, attack dogs chasing us, saddle-sores, fatigue and slimey clothes, sleeping bag, helmet and skin. I can't say I don't enjoy it in a weird way, though. It seems terrible most of the time but sometimes I can't just help but laugh at it. I wish you were all here to enjoy it with us!...

We've been having to take emergency cover from the lightening storms under anything we can find. It's getting harder to do. Out in rural villages, man-made shelters are few and far between.

A roof we camped under one night, taking shelter from another lightening storm

We're now in Cleveland, OH. Jason, family of friends back home, The Gangs, put us up in his awesome house on the west-side of Cleveland. I just got up from a twelve-hour night sleep, in a bed! His dog Chase is awesome.

We're gonna check out Cleveland today and take-off for Sandusky, Cedar Point Amusement Center, tomorrow!

Oh, hi, Ohio

2008-06-24T10:48:00.004-04:00

The next day was even more abbreviated by long spells of lightning, and we went only 36 miles from Chippewa to northern Salem, OH. Yesterday we got an early start and made up some lost time by covering 78 miles to Westlake, OH, just west of Cleveland, where we are staying with Jason, a friend of a friend. Jason has been kind enough to let us stay two nights so that we could crash out with exhaustion last night and still have a full day, today to explore the city, before heading out early on Wendesday.

We actually had a dedicated bike lane for a while on Route 82. It didn't last, naturally, but was nice while it did. This sign usually has a truck on it, so it was funny to see a bike, there.

Please, do

Berlin Lake, and some guy fishing

Days later...

2008-06-24T10:30:00.006-04:00

An apology is in order for the great delay of this posting. The last few days have been a little crazy with lightning storms breaking up our rides and stranding us at various points. Any way, no excuses, sorry about that, I've brought you these flowers to try and make it up to you...

So, Pittsburgh was fun. Our good friend Dan took us under the roof of his Carnegie Mellon fraternity, where we met a bunch of great guys. He offered us his couch and his own bed to sleep on. The first night I took the couch, but Ryan is too selfless to take a brother's bed away from him and, though Dan had already made the sacrifice and gone off to sleep in another room, Ryan took the floor and left the bed empty. I, being not so noble as Ryan, saw to it that the bed was put to good use on the second night, while Ryan could agree to sleep on the couch, and everyone was happy (except maybe for Dan. Who knows where he slept? His hospitality will live on as the stuff of legends).

Dan took us to Shenley park, where we sat on the grass in view of U. Pitt's Tower of Learning, apparently the tallest academic building in the U.S., maybe the world, and then we explored some of the park's fine woodland paths, and saw some beavers. One beaver, at least. We had some sushi at a place called Little Asia, and later on saw a sweet Pink Floyd laser light show at the Carnegie Science Center.

Apple soda at Little Asia

On our way out of the city we ran into a fellow cyclist named Andy who showed us a bike-friendly route out of Pittsburgh (for such a competant guide we thank our lucky stars). He was also a percussionist for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and brought us in the back of Heinz Hall to see the stage, which was really cool to see. Thanks to Andy for taking the time to show us around and get us safely on our way.

Heinz field, for all you Steelers fans

After 500 miles free of flats, the day of our departure from Pittsburgh was also the day that I miraculously suffered not one but TWO flat tires. Boo. The first took place on the sidewalk in front of REI, where my rear tire exploded after a fill-up. I guess 90 psi was too much for the ancient tire, this time. I just heard what sounded like a gunshot and felt a huge blast of air and thought, "did I pack a huge balloon without knowing it, or something?" and these people on the sidewalk turned to us and with surprising indignance and were like, "what was THAT all about?" and I felt inexplicably guilty about the mysterious balloon which I swear to God I had nothing to do with packing in my panniers, some tricky son of a gun must have slipped it in there while I wasn't looking, very funny. Then I saw that my rear tire was flat, and all the pieces came together. I just realized that this was actually a somewhat fortuitous tire flattening, as this was, incidentally, where we met Andy, and without the delay caused by the flat we surely would have missed him.

There was nothing fortunate about the second flat, though, it was just annoying. I was sure that this one was the result of my poor workmanship in replacing the first tire, but in fact I had run straight over a rusty nail, which I found lodged right in the middle of the tread. Shucks. I try to be conscientious about where I ride (i.e. not over rusty nails), but this one must have escaped my eagle eyes. Shortly after flat number two we crossed paths with a guy named George who was making a cross-country bike trip in the opposite direction, San Fran to D.C. He gave us a great short cut that involved two bridges and a flat island which allowed us to skip three miles of hills. Thanks for the excellent advice, George, godspeed.

The combination of the flats and a couple of lightning storms meant our first day out of Pittsburgh was a slow one, and we only made it about 41 miles, in spite of favorable terrain. The end of the day was us running into the woods out of a lightning storm in Chippewa, PA.

6/19 Thursday

2008-06-20T13:19:00.005-04:00

We've arrived in Pittsburgh. We're going to stay here til Saturday morning. We're hanging out with our good friend, Dan Ford, drinking Lion's Head, playing bomberman and pong. A bit of a rest to catch up and get ready for the mid-west.

6/18 Wednesday

2008-06-20T12:18:00.009-04:00

The most annoying day yet of the trip...yet. The weather was inconsistent and relentless. The rain would pour down and the sun would be hiding behind the clouds so we would be cold enough to have to get off our bikes and put on pants and rain jackets. As soon as the sun came out again, it would be strong enough and stay out long enough, so we would have to get off our bikes again, put away the extra layers and put on sun-block. This process of adding and removing layers continued all day long, slowed us down and took a heavy toll on us. What made this day even more exhausting was that we were still climbing through the heart of the Appalachian Mountains.

...Every once in a while we would have to take shelter under a porch due to passing lightning storms...After taking a rest under a residential porch on the side of route 30 and nearly getting struck by lightning (25 yards away, splitting a tree in half) we continued the climb up and up and up!...

But the view was worth it.

When we arrived to Jennerstown that evening we were both exhausted. I started some more random conversations inside a gas station/sandwich shop on the main drag in Jennerstown. I was kind of tip-toeing around asking people if we could sleep on their lawn for the night. (hoping they would just invite us over for a feast of a dinner and warm shower!) I wasn't really getting anywhere until an angel walked through the door! Dorothy!

Dorothy overheard me talking to this guy Darrin. She interrupted us and told me that with help from her friend, Georgeanne, she would set us up for the night in the church basement. (She later told me that she interrupted my conversation with Darrin because "he's a few fries short from a happy meal!") I told Dwight the news and we followed these lovely ladies to the church. We had our own kitchen, bathroom and warm carpet to sleep on. Paradise. It was much appreciated after such an annoying day.

Church camping...

Bedford to Pittsburgh

2008-06-19T23:54:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was a pretty ride through the high mountain meadows of the Alleghenys. The beauty of the scenery was tempered by the rain, wind, and generally miserable weather. We had to take cover a couple of times on account of lightning. I thought we were done with the beastliest of mountains after passing through the heart of the Appalachians, but the Allegheny Mountains had something to say for themselves, too, and yesterday we saw our tallest peak yet, Bald Knob, at 2,906 feet above sea level. Our total was 43 miles from Bedford to Jennerstown, PA, where our usual twilight homelessness didn't last long thanks to Ryan's making the acquaintance of another fair lady, who helped us find shelter in the basement of a church.

Today we started with Laurel Mountain (or "Laurel Hill," as it modestly calls itself at the summit of 2,684 feet). It felt like days since we had had any real help from gravity, and the far side of Laurel Mountain was a much needed respite from climbing, followed by a long and pleasant ride along the river in Ligonier Valley, before the hills decided to show up again and slow our approach to Pittsburgh. Route 30, which we've been riding since before Gettysburg, got pretty ugly, virtually unrideable, and we were lucky enough to catch a ride with a community college professor and high school assistant principle named Dan who talks like Billy Bob Thornton. He brought us about 10 miles up the road to Penn Avenue (Route 8), and we took it from there. So we rode 50 miles, today, plus 10 miles in Dan's pick-up,totalling 60 miles from Jennerstown to Pittsburgh.

P.S. - Notice anything familiar about this fella we found in the church basement?

It's from where we from! How'd you get here, clock?

She been through a lot

Monday 6/16

2008-06-18T10:40:00.009-04:00

I almost forgot how massive the Appalachian Mountains of Pennsylvania are. Fortunately, as we rolled into town, looking for a safe spot to sleep, we approached the St. Thomas Volunteer Fire Department. I thought it might be a good time to visit our first firehouse along our route and let them know about what we're doing. It really worked out. I approached the fire chief, Mark, and told him about our journey and the charity behind it. I figured it would be worth a shot, asking him if we could sleep on the side yard of the firehouse...He said, "we don't have a side yard to sleep on...but you could probably sleep inside the firehouse if it was alright with the town." He made a phone-call and we setup our stuff inside the bunk-room of the firehouse.

We spent most of the night doing laundry, making dinner (on a stove!), and talking with the volunteers. They were all really generous and hospitible fellows. They made us beds and let us do laundry. I was even able to use their weight room. We got a great sleep on a bed, inside the air-conditioned bunk room.

The next day, proved to be a challenging one. We crossed a fair number of mountains over 2000 feet tall with 8 1/2 grades for a mile or longer, we reached 41 mph! I can't wait for The Rockies...

This gnarly...

Tall order

2008-06-18T10:36:00.004-04:00

The good thing about the mountains right now is that they're not too hot. The bad thing about the mountains right now is that they're mountains. I felt like Sisyphus pushing all that weight up those Appalachian slopes. They went up and up and up for so long that I forgot what a down hill was. There was something comforting about hearing my heart pound out those arduous inches like a metronome, and trying to keep my pedal strokes and my breath in time with that insistant beat. When we finally got over the summit, all the way down the other side I couldn't stop saying "Thank you, God, thank you my good, sweet God, dear God, thank you..."

A lot of mangled, twisted animal bodies litter the shoulder, their mouths flung open and their souls spilling out, oily and dark, onto the black top. Sad sight. More people should ride bicycles.

We spent the other night in a volunteer firehouse in St. Thomas, about 35 miles from Gettysburg. The company was a great bunch of guys, many thanks to them for taking us in and being so nice to us. Last night we slept in Bedford, 46 miles further, in the shadow of the world's biggest monster retail monopoly, whose odious name will go unmentioned, here.

The King

2008-06-16T16:37:00.005-04:00

Thanks to our friend Brian and his family for their hospitality and overwhelming generosity. They gave us nourishment, warm beds and good company on a dark and stormy night.

Battlefields

2008-06-16T15:51:00.004-04:00

The tall grass swayed in the wind while its roots gripped that ground which had been watered by the blood of thousands, and the tears of countless others. This morning we stood by the stone monuments that marked their graves, and spent a solemn moment feeling the weight of all those young lives that were spilled out on those now quiet hills.

West of Gettysburg the hills felt steeper than they looked, probably having a lot to do with the wind coming down off of them, which made it a slow-going start, today. Some sun-showers drizzled benevolently down on us as we struggled up a long, steady climb. We passed what looked like a rain-induced auto-accident, a pick-up had skidded off the road, coming to rest in somebody's fence at the end of a trail of disrupted earth. It looked like someone else's bumper might have been involved, too. A woman was standing at the road side on a cell phone with her hand on her forehead, but she sounded calm. It didn't look like anybody was hurt, thankfully, but as we rode on all kinds of ambulances and firetrucks flew passed us in the direction of the accident.

We're sitting in the Grove Family Library in Fayetteville, on our way up Route 30 to Pittsburgh. About 160 miles and The Appalachians remain between us and Steel Town.

Gettysburg and the Katies!

2008-06-16T15:46:00.006-04:00

As we rolled into Gettysburg a bit later than usual, past sunset, we stopped at a gas station on the side of route 30 to grab some food and water for the night so we could comfortably camp on one of the Gettysburg battlefields. I filled up my water bottles and picked up a drink from the cooler. As i was getting into line I noticed a girl at the back of the line around my age, dressed interestingly, wearing a top-hat...So i started some small talk, we paid for our items and went our separate ways. While I was outside watching the bikes and waiting for Dwight to fill up on water and grab some food for the night, the girl with the top-hat drove by with her friend, she beeped and drove away...I was a bit puzzled but kind of shrugged it off...until I was hanging out for a bit by myself and they came back! I talked to both girls, Katie and Katie, for a bit and they asked if Dwight and I wanted to go to the diner with them, which was right down the road...Dwight was about it and so was I, so we went...

Katie and Katie were the two girls in the car and they introduced us to some of their other friends at the diner. We talked for a while but it was getting late so we mentioned that we were gonna head off. Chelsea, Katie's friend knew a fellow by the name, Adrian that lived down the road and asked him over the phone if "a couple of her friends could stay at his place for the night.." He said yes! He let us shower at his house and showed us his artwork and his brother's band, Infraction.

It would have been cool to sleep on one of the battlefields but meeting people like we did in Gettysburg is the best part of a trip like this.

Chelsea and Katie

Where is Paradise?

2008-06-16T15:21:00.004-04:00

It's on Route 462 in Pennsylvania between York and Gettysburg. Who knew? They probably put it there so that all those fallen soldiers wouldn't have too far to walk. Yesterday we road 58 miles from just east of Lancaster to Gettysburg. In Lancaster we went to a bike shop called Cycle Circle, to have some body take a look at Rosalita's chain action, as she had been temperamental about shifting gears, recently, and the rear wheel, according to Ryan, needed to be "trued." Tom, a true bicycle artisan, revealed things I had never known about Rosie's history, among other things evidence of a past accident in the displacement of her rear stays (I got Rosalita used at at an ABC tagsale in Madison, not knowing, until now, anything about her traumatic past). Tom noted that Rosie was not your typical touring bike, having only a two-ring crank and no aluminum wheels. Ryan told Rosie not to listen, and that she was a beautiful lady. Tom made some adjustments to make Rosie's unique anatomy work, and wished us luck on our journey.

On our way west we passed a small parade of evangelists, waving white flags and ringing bells as they yelled "praise the lord!" Some of them had some pretty sweet tattoos. They shouted encouragements at us as we rode by.

We fell upon the mercy of strangers, once again, for a place to sleep in Gettysburg, and through friends of new friends (Ryan's doing, once again) we found lodging with a fellow named Adrian, who is super nice and whose walls are covered with beautiful paintings by his own hand. Thanks to The Katies, Chelsea, and Adrian for taking care of us, and Katie V. for the wonderful cards she made us. Gettysburg is good people.

Week one is up, New Haven, CT to Gettysburg, PA. Almost 300 miles and we have suffered no flats, knock on wood.

Look at this tough guy

2008-06-15T12:11:00.004-04:00

We passed him yesterday on his aged equine ranch on one of the 50 miles between Boyertown, PA and Manheim Township, just east of Lancaster, PA. We also passed a pizza joint, where we succumbed to the temptation of the 16" Square Sicilian. Our eyes proved bigger than our stomachs (mine did, anyhow). That last half slice, I just couldn't face it. Ryan faced his. To the face, full speed.

Some ominous clouds appeared up ahead as we approached Lancaster. We tried to out ride them, but the storm broke on top of us, soaked us in an instant. Then the thunder started cracking around us, and my chain chose that very moment to slip off the back rings and take cover under a screw that holds my rack in place. Not sure how it got there, but it refused to budge. This little maneuver was unprecedented on the chain's part, and could not be remedied without a moderately time-consuming procedure. So I had to make a mad-dash for cover by foot. The following blood-thrilling images by Ryan Gilhuly are the result. We eventually made it to my good friend Brian's house, and had a very dry, comfortable night.

The other day we rode about 55 miles from Washington, NJ to Boyertown, PA, where we spent the night in a camp site. We met with a great deal of kindness just over the state line, in Easton, PA, where the folks at Gensis bikes used every resource at their disposal to help us find the best route west (phone calls, maps, websites, and free use of their computers to see what we could find). A block away from there, V., the proprietor of Nature's Way Market, gave us a warm reception and lots of free stuff. Many thanks to all these people for their generous help.

Alex

2008-06-15T10:55:00.003-04:00

We were heading towards Philipsburg, NJ on the border of PA and climbing, what seemed like some pretty big rolling hills...bombing down one of them i saw a beautiful girl walking on our side of the road in the direction we were biking...So I took the opportunity and stopped to ask her for directions...we talked for a bit and after hearing about our trip and learning that we had nowhere to stay that night, she asked if we wanted to stay at her place for the night, which was right on our way west.
So, Dwight and I then climbed Schooley's Mountain, which owned all previous to it (we had to avoid a car muffler that had been stranded on the shoulder of the road). This one was massive. Alex, who lived with her sister Kim, brother-in-law Kenny and two nieces, fed us, made us beds and hung out with us all night by the fire, sharing stories. After a great night, we woke the next morning and she made us breakfast.
It's rare that you meet people like her that would be courageous enough to put up a couple of strangers for the night but even more rare to be introduced to a family of such good people.

STUD

2008-06-14T22:23:00.002-04:00

forgot about this one...

FOOD

2008-06-14T22:19:00.001-04:00

Schooley's mountain

2008-06-12T23:00:00.002-04:00

Schooled me, today. Shamed me. I road maybe 10%, that's probably generous, the rest I walked. Ryan assures me that there are no such beasts in Pennsylvania that we're likely to cross, but he can't speak for the Rockies.

This morning while packing up to leave our "camp site" we were approached by the cemetery's supervisor, who told us that it was his lamentable duty to inform the authorities that some vagabonds had slept in the graveyard, and make sure that we didn't have criminal records or anything. What at first seemed an embarrassment turned out to be great fortune, as instead of trouble we got a friend and personal escort for the morning in Officer Tully. He was a real character.

We managed to make the obligatory stop in a Jersey diner for breakfast, this morning. Our waitress didn't believe that we were on our way to California. After going in circles a bit we made progress to Washington, NJ, where our lovely new friend, Alex, offered to put us up. We had the pleasure of meeting her sister and brother in law, and their outrageously adorable kids. Today was our best day biking (in spite of Schooley's mountain), a little over 70 miles.

The Graveyard!

2008-06-12T22:40:00.001-04:00

So at the end of the day we were all sweaty and covered with dried sunblock, debris, bugs and chamoix cream. There weren't any residential or public pools to jump in or even a river, just a man made goose pond...So i was poking around town and most of the shops were closed except this one gym in the Wyckoff Shopping Center called Schuman and Vaccaro's Elite Training. I talked to this nice guy Brad at the front desk for a bit about the trip and he let Dwight and I use their shower and toilet. A big thanks goes out to Brad. There is nothing worse than working all day and climbing into a slimy sleeping bag to sleep. We then snuck into the town graveyard and went to sleep.

Three Hills

2008-06-12T22:29:00.001-04:00

Three of New Jersey's hills humbled Dwight, on day three. They proved beyond his power, and he had to walk much of them. No problems for Ryan, naturally. Due to navigation problems getting out of the city, it was a slow day. We found our way thanks to Jay, The Bike Sage of Ft. Lee, New Jersey (that's where we met him, any way, after crossing the George Washington Bridge, in a Border's book store, in search of an atlas). I dropped my camera while riding and ran it over with both wheels. This is the last shot I took before the fatal spill. Few vital signs remain (the lens pops out when I turn it on, but not all the way). The end of day three found us in Wyckoff, NJ, about 25 miles from where we started in Manhattan.

Chez Mello

2008-06-12T22:10:00.002-04:00

Day two we made it through another hot one from Norwalk, CT to New York, NY. We stopped at Colony Grill Pizza in Stamford for lunch. Mmm... Ryan went vegan with me on the pizza as dairy does not seem to be agreeing with his stomach on this journey. We didn't make it to the concert which had brought us to the city (our friends These Green Eyes), but Anna and Maria Mello saved the day for us by putting us up and giving us the absolute 5 Star treatment. Many, many thanks to them and their family for their enormous hospitality.

D-wight

2008-06-10T21:17:00.001-04:00

's first shower of the tour...

Day One, Redux

2008-06-10T11:35:00.009-04:00

Day one in the books. A hot one.

About 40 miles (after getting a bit lost in Bridgeport), 2 bugs to the face, and 94 degrees Fahrenheit later, we camped in a field near Calf's Pasture Beach in Norwalk (maybe it was THE Calf's Pasture?). Little did I know that this was the very field where the whole city of Norwalk had been waiting to bring its dogs to pee on my tent at dawn.

Morning One - 6/10

2008-06-10T11:21:00.003-04:00

So this is our first morning. We're in Norwalk, CT and stayed in our tents in an open field near the Calfs Pasture Point Beach. We got a late start yesterday, around 2, due to some bike troubles but now we're rollin. I'm sitting in Darien writing this and our next stop is NYC to check out a These Green Eyes show. Someone will hopefully put us up for the night, if not we're gonna have to sleep in Central Park...

Thanksgiving

2008-06-08T23:12:00.002-04:00

The eve of our departure seems an appropriate moment to give some thanks; we could never give all that are due, as most of the chain of good and generous deeds that makes this journey possible is surely beyond the scope of our knowing, and even the parts we should know are prey to our imperfect memories. Where these few words do not suffice, may our finest deeds be the gestures of our gratitude. Without further ado, a little thanksgiving:

Thanks to the ancestors for their sacrifices, especially our parents for raising us right, for delivering us to adulthood with our health and strength intact. We also have them partly to thank for our completely ripped bodies and devastatingly good looks.

Thanks to our friends for their great encouragement and generosity, the offers of hospitality are really heartening.

Thanks to Ryan’s good friend Matt Francis from Swansea and Jamis Bicycles for the sweet ride.
Thanks to Andy at Trailblazer in New Haven for hookin it up with rad gear.
Thanks to Tess at Zane’s in Branford for the same.
Thanks to the wonderful crew at the Wildy House in Boston for being badass and always being behind Ryan.
Thanks to the people at College Street Cycles in New Haven for staying open when Dwight needed shoes.

Thanks to patient and level-headed drivers, everywhere.

Thanks to the inventor of bicycles, and to all of those who have carried on the noble traditions of building and riding them, the boon of whose collective wisdom we now inherit to our immeasurable benefit.

Thanks to the creator of pavement (and sorry to those wild creatures whose homes it has claimed).
Thanks to the thousands (millions?) whose blood, sweat and tears went into that web of roads that will carry us across this broad continent, up and down its rocky shoulders, and down those westward slopes to its Pacific waters, where doubtless we will bathe with much more to be grateful for, still.

De-parture De-layed

2008-06-07T22:24:00.002-04:00

Due to my in-competence. Have you ever ordered gear for a cross-country bike trip that would not arrive until after the date you were slated to depart? My fault. Make that June 9.

Monday!

2008-06-07T16:12:00.002-04:00

Dwight doesn't want to wear dead animals around his feet so we have to wait til Monday for his pleather bike shoes.

Check Out Our Route

2008-06-05T23:26:00.002-04:00

Consult our (roughly) charted route on the bottom right (click for details) to see if we will be crossing paths with you or any one you know, and tell us if you (or they) would care for a visit.

Connecticut Burns Care Foundation

2008-06-03T14:36:00.006-04:00

After a lot of searching for a worthy charity to ride for, we found these guys. They run a rewarding and enjoyable summer camp for burn victims, ages 8-18, as well as fund the Bridgeport Burn Center, the only burn center in Connecticut. The firefighting community has been so supportive to my family and me over the years and many of my family and friends are firefighters.

Two

2008-05-31T12:48:00.000-04:00

a very good friend of mine, Dwight Smith has decided to ride with me. We are now two and this is now, our trip journal.

June 7 Departure

2008-05-28T01:41:00.000-04:00

gettin ready, waitin for the bike and rest of my gear to show up as the weather only gets warmer.