The first was taken riding out from the pass, and the second from the Snake River Valley floor, looking up at the Tetons.
What a ride.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
A few pictures from the camera-less ride
Both of these are from our ride over Togwotee Pass-- thanks to Bronwyn for her photographic skills...
The first was taken riding out from the pass, and the second from the Snake River Valley floor, looking up at the Tetons.
What a ride.
The first was taken riding out from the pass, and the second from the Snake River Valley floor, looking up at the Tetons.
What a ride.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Jackson, Wyoming
The Continental divide is marked by a small green sign at 9,658 feet on Wyoming's Route 26. It sits below two towering rock ramparts that look like castle tops, just past a glassy mountain lake frequented by fisherman and road-trippers. And tired bikers.
Yesterday we rode over the continental divide from Dubois (pronounced DOO-boys by the locals) in to Jackson. I swept with Elle. The day dawned bleak, with clouds and rain showers, and 50% chance of thunderstorms, all day. According to all the locals we talked to, this was TERRIBLE news-- we would miss the storied "300-mile view" from atop the Rockies, and the ride would be marked by muddy work zones and irate RVers.
Thankfully, all that talk was unfounded. When we left, the weather was indeed funky, with scattered sprinkles and a mountain-y bite to the air. But we had bellies full of good coffee (thanks to "Kathy's Koffee" in Dubois) and everyone in front of us seemed giddy and ridiculous, always a good mental state to be in when you're about to climb over the Rockies on a bike.
The first 30 miles were almost entirely uphill, and we had to be ferried over a 4-mile stretch of intense construction (absolutely NO bikers allowed, so we didn't feel like big cheaters). At about mile 30 we officially hit the continental divide, at the top of Togwotee Pass. We had cold pizza for lunch under a "BEAR AWARE" sign warning us about over-friendly grizzlies and then got ready for the descent.
Note (forgive the hyperbole, it's the only thing that works): for much of this ride I was overcome with an overwhelming, transcendent euphoria. It was probably the altitude, some 4,000 feet above our starting point, and the lack of food, and the residual caffeine in my system, but I was never desensitized to the surrounding landscape. I've seen big mountains before, but these were unreal. When we crested the pass, the valley opened onto the Grand Tetons, a vast purple wall in the distance. Most of us thought they were clouds at first. It was funny; I forgot my camera in my duffel in the morning, so I didn't have it with me all day, but I'm almost glad that I went without. It made me scrutinize the environment more than I would have if I'd been peering at it through a 2" screen. I was totally consumed by the Tetons, the jagged teeth in the "maw" that I mentioned a few days ago. It was staggering. Pictures don't work. Words don't either, apparently.
All that said, I'll be stealing pictures from other riders. And I'll be back here again, I promise.
Elle and I had a great sweep tenure, helping with flats and sharing chocolate and waiting for the van with a big ol' group and Lauren, who'd fallen on the way down from the pass because her seat bolt freakin' sheared off. It's a 1-in-10,000 flaw, I think, and we're all profoundly grateful that she emerged with a touch of road rash and nothing more severe.
The rest of the ride was mostly downhills and flats, cruising through the Snake River valley and into Jackson. From the valley floor the Teton Range marches southward. The mountains are close enough to loom but far enough away to resist comprehension. Valleys and peaks and snow-filled couloirs all seem tossed together haphazardly. The Tetons tumble up into the sky until they're lost in the low-hanging clouds. Tourists fall out of minivans at view spots, stare agape along mountain flanks, then clamber back in for another mind-numbing stretch of road. We bikers were lost in the landscape, specks in the tourist flood.
Our build day today in Jackson was great-- we worked on two Habitat homes in Jackson's South Park neighborhood, about 10 minutes south of downtown. The median home price here is $1.7 million. Habitat builds 2-4 homes a year, with an average cost (land/supplies) of about $150-200,000, a whole lot more than other cities. But in a place where a 1/4-acre lot can go for over $100k on the open market, that's pretty damn good. We worked alongside Americorps Vista volunteers, fellow college- and post-college students working for a year or two in the area on service projects. They were great, and our boss Trace was also great-- as Tommy put it, he had the "walking around, cracking jokes, and making everyone feel good" thing down, which is essential for Habitat crew-chiefs. We did some finish work and driveway-forming on a house that's being dedicated next Tuesday and most of the ladies in the group worked on a "Women's Build" site across the way.
We were also pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ken and Lisa Pelotti, who we'd met in Lander a few days earlier. They're the owners of Muscle Works (www.rebuild2.com), a sports/training supplement company based in Texas, and after they heard about our trip they both encouraged Elle, Bronwyn, and I to try their muscle recovery and electrolyte boost pills/powders. Today they pulled up to our build site with two boxes full of freebies, an invaluable gift for us, and for our muscles. I'm excited to see how the Rebuild helps with my recovery-- I'm expecting big things. Ken and Lisa: you guys rock!
According to Tommy, tomorrow will be our definitive climb-- we're going up about 4,000 vertical feet in 5 miles. For those of you who'd like to simulate this experience, try this:
1. Find your heaviest rolling pin.
2. Straddle a well-used sawhorse.
3. Start bouncing up and down on it.
4. Pummel your thighs spiritedly with the rolling pin for about an hour.
5. (Advanced) If you really want the whole package, have a friend flick flies into your mouth as he pours hot, salty water over your head.
Just kidding.
Kinda.
Once again, I'm creepily exhilarated to go up another honest-to-god mountain.
Wow, this post just crossed the line into loooooooooong territory. Sorry for the reading fatigue-- I'll upload more pictures shortly and I'll also be sure to fill you in on the spaceship-like organ from my previous post. That was quite the night, let me tell you.
All the best from 6200'
-Sam
Yesterday we rode over the continental divide from Dubois (pronounced DOO-boys by the locals) in to Jackson. I swept with Elle. The day dawned bleak, with clouds and rain showers, and 50% chance of thunderstorms, all day. According to all the locals we talked to, this was TERRIBLE news-- we would miss the storied "300-mile view" from atop the Rockies, and the ride would be marked by muddy work zones and irate RVers.
Thankfully, all that talk was unfounded. When we left, the weather was indeed funky, with scattered sprinkles and a mountain-y bite to the air. But we had bellies full of good coffee (thanks to "Kathy's Koffee" in Dubois) and everyone in front of us seemed giddy and ridiculous, always a good mental state to be in when you're about to climb over the Rockies on a bike.
The first 30 miles were almost entirely uphill, and we had to be ferried over a 4-mile stretch of intense construction (absolutely NO bikers allowed, so we didn't feel like big cheaters). At about mile 30 we officially hit the continental divide, at the top of Togwotee Pass. We had cold pizza for lunch under a "BEAR AWARE" sign warning us about over-friendly grizzlies and then got ready for the descent.
Note (forgive the hyperbole, it's the only thing that works): for much of this ride I was overcome with an overwhelming, transcendent euphoria. It was probably the altitude, some 4,000 feet above our starting point, and the lack of food, and the residual caffeine in my system, but I was never desensitized to the surrounding landscape. I've seen big mountains before, but these were unreal. When we crested the pass, the valley opened onto the Grand Tetons, a vast purple wall in the distance. Most of us thought they were clouds at first. It was funny; I forgot my camera in my duffel in the morning, so I didn't have it with me all day, but I'm almost glad that I went without. It made me scrutinize the environment more than I would have if I'd been peering at it through a 2" screen. I was totally consumed by the Tetons, the jagged teeth in the "maw" that I mentioned a few days ago. It was staggering. Pictures don't work. Words don't either, apparently.
All that said, I'll be stealing pictures from other riders. And I'll be back here again, I promise.
Elle and I had a great sweep tenure, helping with flats and sharing chocolate and waiting for the van with a big ol' group and Lauren, who'd fallen on the way down from the pass because her seat bolt freakin' sheared off. It's a 1-in-10,000 flaw, I think, and we're all profoundly grateful that she emerged with a touch of road rash and nothing more severe.
The rest of the ride was mostly downhills and flats, cruising through the Snake River valley and into Jackson. From the valley floor the Teton Range marches southward. The mountains are close enough to loom but far enough away to resist comprehension. Valleys and peaks and snow-filled couloirs all seem tossed together haphazardly. The Tetons tumble up into the sky until they're lost in the low-hanging clouds. Tourists fall out of minivans at view spots, stare agape along mountain flanks, then clamber back in for another mind-numbing stretch of road. We bikers were lost in the landscape, specks in the tourist flood.
Our build day today in Jackson was great-- we worked on two Habitat homes in Jackson's South Park neighborhood, about 10 minutes south of downtown. The median home price here is $1.7 million. Habitat builds 2-4 homes a year, with an average cost (land/supplies) of about $150-200,000, a whole lot more than other cities. But in a place where a 1/4-acre lot can go for over $100k on the open market, that's pretty damn good. We worked alongside Americorps Vista volunteers, fellow college- and post-college students working for a year or two in the area on service projects. They were great, and our boss Trace was also great-- as Tommy put it, he had the "walking around, cracking jokes, and making everyone feel good" thing down, which is essential for Habitat crew-chiefs. We did some finish work and driveway-forming on a house that's being dedicated next Tuesday and most of the ladies in the group worked on a "Women's Build" site across the way.
We were also pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ken and Lisa Pelotti, who we'd met in Lander a few days earlier. They're the owners of Muscle Works (www.rebuild2.com), a sports/training supplement company based in Texas, and after they heard about our trip they both encouraged Elle, Bronwyn, and I to try their muscle recovery and electrolyte boost pills/powders. Today they pulled up to our build site with two boxes full of freebies, an invaluable gift for us, and for our muscles. I'm excited to see how the Rebuild helps with my recovery-- I'm expecting big things. Ken and Lisa: you guys rock!
According to Tommy, tomorrow will be our definitive climb-- we're going up about 4,000 vertical feet in 5 miles. For those of you who'd like to simulate this experience, try this:
1. Find your heaviest rolling pin.
2. Straddle a well-used sawhorse.
3. Start bouncing up and down on it.
4. Pummel your thighs spiritedly with the rolling pin for about an hour.
5. (Advanced) If you really want the whole package, have a friend flick flies into your mouth as he pours hot, salty water over your head.
Just kidding.
Kinda.
Once again, I'm creepily exhilarated to go up another honest-to-god mountain.
Wow, this post just crossed the line into loooooooooong territory. Sorry for the reading fatigue-- I'll upload more pictures shortly and I'll also be sure to fill you in on the spaceship-like organ from my previous post. That was quite the night, let me tell you.
All the best from 6200'
-Sam
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A Photo Blog, for now
Too tired to write much now, so I'm showing, not telling. Will have more details tomorrow, or the day after, upon arrival in Jackson (I can't WAIT)...
Monday, July 23, 2007
The Foot of the Rockies
Yup, here they are, as expected: looming at the end of a long, flat, hot road. Bronwyn and I crested a hill at about 9:30 this morning, and she shouted "I think I see snow!" The morning was hazy, so I held my judgment until we were a lil' bit closer. But she was right. There they were, the snow-covered peaks of the Wind River range (the start o' the Continental Divide) and they were there all day, at the edge of the horizon. The plains started rolling and bucking as we got nearer, then lay down worshipfully before them.
We're here in Lander, Wyoming, an awesome little town. It's home to NOLS headquarters and an avidly outdoorsy population. They've also got a few great little coffee shops (I scoped 'em all out) and an awesome local bar/grill where we got lunch at noon, upon rolling in.
The ride yesterday was a grueling litmus test of our cycling ability: 103 miles, at about 105 degrees, across Wyoming's high desert. We passed through "Hell's Half-Acre," a profound depression at the top of a plateau where they filmed Starship Troopers (whoop-dee-doo...). It was very cool-- see pics. That was our First Lunch stop, and we hung out for a little while before the intensity of the high-noon sun forced us back on our bikes. The rest of the ride consisted of a 40-mile cruise along long, gradual downhill canyons and then a grueling fight against a 10-mile headwind maelstrom in to Shoshoni. Ironically, the last riders and the sweeps were caught up in a brief rain shower and then coasted into town at 30 on a rain-cooled tailwind. Karma, I guess. Or another iteration of the Tortoise and the Hare (thanks for that one, Dad).
Our ride today was a much more pleasant affair, though I felt the entire time that I was willfully riding towards the maw of some gargantuan, cyclist-eating beast. The jagged peaks of the Tetons rise up behind the gentler, grassier Wind River mountains, and at the very top of a few there's the gleam of summer snow. Tomorrow's ride will be marked by a few climbs, but the next day's features a THIRTY MILE CLIMB over the top and down into Jackson.
You heard me right. Thirty Miles. Not three, not thirteen, but thirty. And it's my sweep day. I'm actually thrilled about it. Don't ask me why, b/c I couldn't really explain it. But the euphoria's there.
Tonight we're going for a BBQ furnished by a local community church and then splitting up to spend the night in actual homes! It really caps a funny three-night experience-- last night we stayed in the Shoshoni Volunteer Firehouse, and the two nights before we were in Casper's Drum & Bugle Corps HQ and offices. People slept in the Boardroom. Ah well. Anywhere there's a floor works when you've got a Thermarest, I guess.
Enough for now. I might write a bit more later, if I find another WiFi connection.
-S
PS-- Here's a nice note to end on. I was worried I'd be picked off by a sniper on the roof, but luckily I escaped from my act of insubordination unscathed. Apparently most of the folks in Casper don't think too highly of Dick C either...
Friday, July 20, 2007
Cowboys 'n Jackalopes
Howdy y'all,
I'm in Casper, Wyoming, a city of about 50,000, with one glaring claim to fame (aside from a Friendly Ghost); Dick Cheney's from here. We got to ride by Halliburton plants and the Dick Cheney Federal Building in town. Both experiences made me seethe with unadulterated liberal rage.
Despite being Satan's birthplace, Casper seems like a great little city, with a few nice coffee shops, a few nice breweries, a jazz club (!?!?!) and Taubert's Western Store, which boasts 9 floors of the finest cowboy boots $400 can buy. Just take a look at these babies:
The rides over the last 2 days have been easy, fun, and rewarding: 56 and 54 miles, with a slight tailwind, over amazing terrain, with amazing views. The sandhills of Nebraska have given way to buttes and the slightly imposing Laramie Range in Eastern Wyoming. The plains are uniformly khaki and seem to stretch out to the hazy horizon, and in places the sky seems imbued with bands of faded reds and greens. The train conductors lead mile-long coal trains and wave/sound their horns liberally. I realized a few weeks ago that all of the trains sound a major 6 chord-- I think it's a C chord, second inversion. For those of you who care (at all), that's also an A-minor 7, third inversion. Sometimes it's encouraging, other times mournful.
We've seen jackrabbits and buffalo and antelope ("Where seldom is heard a discouragin' word...) and even a few living and dead rattlesnakes. We rode through Glenrock, WY, which boasted (naturally) Glen Rock, a great sandy outcropping featuring hundreds of carved names and dates from Oregon-bound settlers throughout the ages. I distinctly remember seeing a scene like this in Oregon Trail, the computer game we played incessantly during indoor recess in 3rd grade. It seems everyone on the trip has fond memories of fording rivers and hunting for bears and buffalo until the game grew disgusted with their excess and cut them off.
Oh, speaking of excessive, here's a few of our state sign pics in Wyoming and looking back into Nebraska. This is but a taste of the ridiculousness that takes place at every Bike & Build state sign photo-shoot.
We're spending the next day-point-five here in Casper, and working on a Habitat site tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it-- it's been a while for some of us (half the group was rained out in Ames) and my knee's bothering me, so it'll be good to let it rest a bit. Most of us are freaking out about being in Wyoming-- it feels a little too close for comfort to Seattle. After being embedded in this routine, anything else (AKA the real world) seems downright terrifying.
Aight, enough from Casper. I'm glad so many people are reading and enjoying this blog (and Terra's) because I'm having fun writing it and sharing this crazy experience with all of you sane folks back home. I'll leave you with a few more pics, because sometimes those work better at conveying this place, and its space.
-Sam
I'm in Casper, Wyoming, a city of about 50,000, with one glaring claim to fame (aside from a Friendly Ghost); Dick Cheney's from here. We got to ride by Halliburton plants and the Dick Cheney Federal Building in town. Both experiences made me seethe with unadulterated liberal rage.
Despite being Satan's birthplace, Casper seems like a great little city, with a few nice coffee shops, a few nice breweries, a jazz club (!?!?!) and Taubert's Western Store, which boasts 9 floors of the finest cowboy boots $400 can buy. Just take a look at these babies:
The rides over the last 2 days have been easy, fun, and rewarding: 56 and 54 miles, with a slight tailwind, over amazing terrain, with amazing views. The sandhills of Nebraska have given way to buttes and the slightly imposing Laramie Range in Eastern Wyoming. The plains are uniformly khaki and seem to stretch out to the hazy horizon, and in places the sky seems imbued with bands of faded reds and greens. The train conductors lead mile-long coal trains and wave/sound their horns liberally. I realized a few weeks ago that all of the trains sound a major 6 chord-- I think it's a C chord, second inversion. For those of you who care (at all), that's also an A-minor 7, third inversion. Sometimes it's encouraging, other times mournful.
We've seen jackrabbits and buffalo and antelope ("Where seldom is heard a discouragin' word...) and even a few living and dead rattlesnakes. We rode through Glenrock, WY, which boasted (naturally) Glen Rock, a great sandy outcropping featuring hundreds of carved names and dates from Oregon-bound settlers throughout the ages. I distinctly remember seeing a scene like this in Oregon Trail, the computer game we played incessantly during indoor recess in 3rd grade. It seems everyone on the trip has fond memories of fording rivers and hunting for bears and buffalo until the game grew disgusted with their excess and cut them off.
Oh, speaking of excessive, here's a few of our state sign pics in Wyoming and looking back into Nebraska. This is but a taste of the ridiculousness that takes place at every Bike & Build state sign photo-shoot.
We're spending the next day-point-five here in Casper, and working on a Habitat site tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it-- it's been a while for some of us (half the group was rained out in Ames) and my knee's bothering me, so it'll be good to let it rest a bit. Most of us are freaking out about being in Wyoming-- it feels a little too close for comfort to Seattle. After being embedded in this routine, anything else (AKA the real world) seems downright terrifying.
Aight, enough from Casper. I'm glad so many people are reading and enjoying this blog (and Terra's) because I'm having fun writing it and sharing this crazy experience with all of you sane folks back home. I'll leave you with a few more pics, because sometimes those work better at conveying this place, and its space.
-Sam
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Through Nebraska on The Westward Ho
Yup, that's my bike name. The Westward Ho. Punny and marginally offensive, just like me.
I'm in Lusk, WYOMING at the moment, sheltering from the heat in an original Carnegie Library (which we've all come to regard very highly) on a computer donated by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation to the town. It's an interesting confluence of philanthropy: the old money and the new, two different eras that boomed in their own spectacular fashion, and two controversial figures who gave a whole heckuvalot of money to a whole lotta people.
But enough on that. I'm in freakin' Wyoming. And I rode a bike here. With 29 other crazies. I believe that I'm really pushing this point because, for me, the West, as in Manifest Destiny-Trail of Tears-Yellowstone-Cowboys 'n Indians really starts here. The landscape, as you'll see in the next post (coming as soon as I get my own computer outta the van) is rolling and ridiculous-- buttes and prairie and tumbleweeds (yup, even saw one roll across the highway this morning) and bison! And we're at 5015' at the moment. Some people think the air feels thinner. I can't really notice a difference, but I might have grown accustomed to the lightheadedness and shortness of breath that a day's worth of riding in sun and heat brings no matter what the elevation.
I've really enjoyed Nebraska: the people have, as usual, been unfailingly generous and welcoming. An old-timer in Valentine (where all the street signs have hearts on 'em) gave me the baseball cap off his head: the "Buffalo Roundup" from South Dakota. He also told me we'd just missed the Rocky Mountain Oyster festival in town. For those of you who don't know, do yourself a favor: search for Rocky Mountain Oysters online. Lemme put it this way: I can't say I'm too disappointed that we missed the festival.
We also ran into two cross-country walkers: one doing it backwards (Mr. Bill, from Brattleboro VT no less-- I think he's a kook, but he CAN do 78 two-finger pushups in a minute) and another doing it forwards (http://walkforprogress.blogspot.com). Both had different reasons for doing what they do, but the mutual respect we all shared for one another was encouraging and exhilarating.
Today's ride was marked by a badass 1500-2000' climb over 4 miles into Nebraska's high country and a few ridiculous coal trains heading alongside the highway we were riding. We also took some humorous state sign pictures (as per usual) and generally freaked out about being in Wyoming already. It's a big country, but it feels like it's really flying by.
Tomorrow we head out of Lusk and to Pastor Struck's Ranch, about 50 miles away. We'll be riding horses and playing in a "water park" (I'm expecting a home-made slip 'n slide, but I'm secretly hoping for more elaborate structures) and then spending the night out there on the range. With the deer and the antelopes. The next day's another 50ish ride with a build day waiting at the end. We're all staring down the barrel at the Rockies, but the upcoming shorter distances are more than welcome. My next sweep day will be a ridiculous climb up to Jackson. I can't wait to see the views from the top.
All the best from the West,
Sam
I'm in Lusk, WYOMING at the moment, sheltering from the heat in an original Carnegie Library (which we've all come to regard very highly) on a computer donated by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation to the town. It's an interesting confluence of philanthropy: the old money and the new, two different eras that boomed in their own spectacular fashion, and two controversial figures who gave a whole heckuvalot of money to a whole lotta people.
But enough on that. I'm in freakin' Wyoming. And I rode a bike here. With 29 other crazies. I believe that I'm really pushing this point because, for me, the West, as in Manifest Destiny-Trail of Tears-Yellowstone-Cowboys 'n Indians really starts here. The landscape, as you'll see in the next post (coming as soon as I get my own computer outta the van) is rolling and ridiculous-- buttes and prairie and tumbleweeds (yup, even saw one roll across the highway this morning) and bison! And we're at 5015' at the moment. Some people think the air feels thinner. I can't really notice a difference, but I might have grown accustomed to the lightheadedness and shortness of breath that a day's worth of riding in sun and heat brings no matter what the elevation.
I've really enjoyed Nebraska: the people have, as usual, been unfailingly generous and welcoming. An old-timer in Valentine (where all the street signs have hearts on 'em) gave me the baseball cap off his head: the "Buffalo Roundup" from South Dakota. He also told me we'd just missed the Rocky Mountain Oyster festival in town. For those of you who don't know, do yourself a favor: search for Rocky Mountain Oysters online. Lemme put it this way: I can't say I'm too disappointed that we missed the festival.
We also ran into two cross-country walkers: one doing it backwards (Mr. Bill, from Brattleboro VT no less-- I think he's a kook, but he CAN do 78 two-finger pushups in a minute) and another doing it forwards (http://walkforprogress.blogspot.com). Both had different reasons for doing what they do, but the mutual respect we all shared for one another was encouraging and exhilarating.
Today's ride was marked by a badass 1500-2000' climb over 4 miles into Nebraska's high country and a few ridiculous coal trains heading alongside the highway we were riding. We also took some humorous state sign pictures (as per usual) and generally freaked out about being in Wyoming already. It's a big country, but it feels like it's really flying by.
Tomorrow we head out of Lusk and to Pastor Struck's Ranch, about 50 miles away. We'll be riding horses and playing in a "water park" (I'm expecting a home-made slip 'n slide, but I'm secretly hoping for more elaborate structures) and then spending the night out there on the range. With the deer and the antelopes. The next day's another 50ish ride with a build day waiting at the end. We're all staring down the barrel at the Rockies, but the upcoming shorter distances are more than welcome. My next sweep day will be a ridiculous climb up to Jackson. I can't wait to see the views from the top.
All the best from the West,
Sam
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
So, this happened...
Okay, so we've been tossing around the idea of mohawks for a week or so now, and yesterday in Gordon, Nebraska, we finally got around to it. We'd ridden for 8 hours from Valentine, NE; we left at 4:30 AM Central Time to avoid the heat and we crossed into Mountain Time Zone about 30 miles in to the 94 mile day. Most of us finished the near-century before noon, leaving ample time to appreciate the two businesses open on Sunday: a gas station and a grocery store. We all swam in the public pool, and then when we got back from the pool decided to follow through on the mohawk option. Each looks different: Logan looks very 80's rocker, Derrick 90's club-goer. Nate's pulling off the emo look very well, and Amelia looks like a badass biker chick. Greg looks like he's always had one. And, as you can see, I'm rocking the "real" fauxhawk. I think we were all inspired by the extremity of our 600-mile week, and exhilarated by the prospect of a 46-mile ride into Chadron, NE the next day. I know I was ready to let off some of the anxiety built up from the week of 90+ degree weather and intense distances.
I'll include a more detailed before/after series, but the internet here in the Chadron Public Library is painfully slow. Here's a shot for the ages, though...
Top Row (L-R): Me, Greg, Nate, Logan. Bottom: Derrick, Amelia.
Gnarly. Later.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
My entry from the bike 'n build site
This has been lifted directly off www.bikeandbuild.org...
I'd write more, but this is about how I feel about the day. Hope y'all enjoy...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007, was a day that will go down in many a P2S07er’s memory as a day of toil and reward, drudgery and joy. It would be easy enough to convey the experience in traditional prose, as seen in other entries. But I think an exploration of multiple writing styles will be the most fitting way to communicate our ride. And yes, I was an English major.
Enjoy. And hang on to your saddles.
1. Statistics
Mileage: 100-103 miles, depending on detours
Vertical feet of climbing: 7,200
Elevation change: -140 feet
Calories burned: 8-10,000
Lunches consumed: 2 by each person (except Pat, who unknowingly blew by second lunch); one at mile 45, another at mile 68
Number of people in van with stomach flu: 2 (Tommy/Derrick)
Number of people in van with possible early carpal tunnel syndrome: 1 (Katie)
Number of people in van, driving: 1 (Sarah)
Miles run by Katie at second lunch, because she felt like it: 14
Miles ridden by Candace after severe cookie-tossing: 30
Pat’s arrival time: 3:45 pm
Arrival time of sweeps: 8:30 pm
Exhilarated, exhausted, extremely full riders at day’s end: 30
Earliest bedtime (Bridget): 7:25 pm
Latest bedtime (Emily): 10:30 pm
2. Superlatives
Most miles ridden to date
Most vertical feet to date
Most on-bike hours to date
Most chamois cream used to date
3. Haiku
One more day awake
To five a.m. shoulder pokes
And bitter coffee.
On to the bikes now,
With jaws set determinedly
And some well-lubed butts.
Lunch came late that day—
Abuzz with expectation
We wanted our food.
Kittens at first lunch
Were friendly, mewling, waifish
And climbed in baskets.
More hills now,
And so many hills later.
But fields from Ireland.
4. Limerick
There once was a ride towards Nebraska
It may as well have been Alaska
We went over the hills
And had just one spill,
But everyone felt better afta.
5. Free verse
These roads look like a rolling, rumpled ribbon
Draped across a twisting quilt
By some punitive, sadistic toddler. In Vermont
The roads are routed ‘round the mountains, but in Iowa
Civil engineers seem to enjoy straight lines. I say
Put ‘em on a bike and let them ride those roads. They’ll think
Different next time.
Raps and songs and primal screams were the plan of attack,
Exhaustion caught us all off-guard and threw us all on track.
Harry Potter fans cast spells against the wind
And curses on last night’s midnight showing.
Cresting a hill we saw a fertile valley, awash in afternoon light,
Verdant, deep, and, crucially,
flat.
Upon descent, the road pulled right, the headwind died,
And then we saw a hill.
And then the road went over it.
Why, Iowa?
Why.
Why, oh why.
Why-o-wa.
My thoughts, over those last 13 miles.
6. Food
Burgers
Pizza: Pineapple, Pepperoni, Plain
Salad
Crudites
Beef Stroganoff
Soy-meat Stroganoff
Black-bean salsa
Chips: Tortilla, Potato (plain/BBQ), Sun (multi-grain/cheddar)
Watermelon
Honeydew
Cantelope
Brownies
M&M Cookies
Chocolate Chip Cookies
7. One more haiku
We sleep thoroughly,
Afloat on our Thermarests.
The day's marks will fade.
I'd write more, but this is about how I feel about the day. Hope y'all enjoy...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007, was a day that will go down in many a P2S07er’s memory as a day of toil and reward, drudgery and joy. It would be easy enough to convey the experience in traditional prose, as seen in other entries. But I think an exploration of multiple writing styles will be the most fitting way to communicate our ride. And yes, I was an English major.
Enjoy. And hang on to your saddles.
1. Statistics
Mileage: 100-103 miles, depending on detours
Vertical feet of climbing: 7,200
Elevation change: -140 feet
Calories burned: 8-10,000
Lunches consumed: 2 by each person (except Pat, who unknowingly blew by second lunch); one at mile 45, another at mile 68
Number of people in van with stomach flu: 2 (Tommy/Derrick)
Number of people in van with possible early carpal tunnel syndrome: 1 (Katie)
Number of people in van, driving: 1 (Sarah)
Miles run by Katie at second lunch, because she felt like it: 14
Miles ridden by Candace after severe cookie-tossing: 30
Pat’s arrival time: 3:45 pm
Arrival time of sweeps: 8:30 pm
Exhilarated, exhausted, extremely full riders at day’s end: 30
Earliest bedtime (Bridget): 7:25 pm
Latest bedtime (Emily): 10:30 pm
2. Superlatives
Most miles ridden to date
Most vertical feet to date
Most on-bike hours to date
Most chamois cream used to date
3. Haiku
One more day awake
To five a.m. shoulder pokes
And bitter coffee.
On to the bikes now,
With jaws set determinedly
And some well-lubed butts.
Lunch came late that day—
Abuzz with expectation
We wanted our food.
Kittens at first lunch
Were friendly, mewling, waifish
And climbed in baskets.
More hills now,
And so many hills later.
But fields from Ireland.
4. Limerick
There once was a ride towards Nebraska
It may as well have been Alaska
We went over the hills
And had just one spill,
But everyone felt better afta.
5. Free verse
These roads look like a rolling, rumpled ribbon
Draped across a twisting quilt
By some punitive, sadistic toddler. In Vermont
The roads are routed ‘round the mountains, but in Iowa
Civil engineers seem to enjoy straight lines. I say
Put ‘em on a bike and let them ride those roads. They’ll think
Different next time.
Raps and songs and primal screams were the plan of attack,
Exhaustion caught us all off-guard and threw us all on track.
Harry Potter fans cast spells against the wind
And curses on last night’s midnight showing.
Cresting a hill we saw a fertile valley, awash in afternoon light,
Verdant, deep, and, crucially,
flat.
Upon descent, the road pulled right, the headwind died,
And then we saw a hill.
And then the road went over it.
Why, Iowa?
Why.
Why, oh why.
Why-o-wa.
My thoughts, over those last 13 miles.
6. Food
Burgers
Pizza: Pineapple, Pepperoni, Plain
Salad
Crudites
Beef Stroganoff
Soy-meat Stroganoff
Black-bean salsa
Chips: Tortilla, Potato (plain/BBQ), Sun (multi-grain/cheddar)
Watermelon
Honeydew
Cantelope
Brownies
M&M Cookies
Chocolate Chip Cookies
7. One more haiku
We sleep thoroughly,
Afloat on our Thermarests.
The day's marks will fade.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Wow.
102 miles.
7200 vertical feet of climbing, with -140 feet elevation change.
7.5 hours spent on a bike seat, between the hours of 7 am and 5 pm.
Carroll to Sioux City, IA.
I'd say more, but I'm too beat to think clearly right now. I hope your heads are screwed on better than mine right now...
More soon... bed now.
7200 vertical feet of climbing, with -140 feet elevation change.
7.5 hours spent on a bike seat, between the hours of 7 am and 5 pm.
Carroll to Sioux City, IA.
I'd say more, but I'm too beat to think clearly right now. I hope your heads are screwed on better than mine right now...
More soon... bed now.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Oh, one more thing...
Sorry, pics are gone. They might not have been the most appropriate posting material. But thanks for the comments!
More to come soon...
More to come soon...
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Iowaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaguuuuughghghhgh
So, turns out "IOWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" makes for terrific primal scream material-- I've done my best impression above, and I did it a lot over the course of our ride through the headwindy hills of this great state. Today marks the culmination of some of the most intense riding we’ve done so far, as well as the most miles we’ve ridden consecutively. Today was only about 45 miles (which, ironically, was the longest ride I'd ever done before this trip), but yesterday was an 82-miler, the day before I rode 102, and the day before THAT was 93 or so. And Iowa, despite all initial speculation, is HILLY. Like, 4-5,000 vertical feet of climbing per-day hilly. And windy, like, feels like you're going uphill when you're flat, and feels like you're flat when you're going down. It cancels out gravity out here. Yesterday I was riding downhill, hands-free, and started decelerating. It was eerie. It was frustrating. But we got it done.
So far, though, Iowa's been a pleasant, welcome surprise. In an earlier post, I alluded to a popular belief that these four states or so would be like one big, boring, flat state. And despite the fact that it's been a big, flat, boring ride at times, the people and places have been absurdly welcoming and generous. And beautiful. See attached pictures.
We spent the day after our first "century" in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, which is an awesome little city with a killer farmer's market and a really good bike shop, where I got a cushy pair of Nike spandex (turns out they're the best. I've come to agree...). I was in Cedar Rapids till about 10:30 AM with Bronwyn, Win, and Chantel, waiting for Win's bike to be fixed, and then had to deal with a "76 mile" day which turned out to be 82, featuring 14 miles on GRAVEL ROADS. I'm not talking about pleasant hard pack, either, I'm talking about the kind I'd feel comfortable on with a mountain bike. Maybe. The leaders used four sources to check the directions, all of which indicated that the roads we'd be following were "two lane blacktop," and "well-suited for bicycles." Win and I had a 10 mile shiatsu butt-massage thanks to those darn "blacktop" roads, in 92-degree heat, with a 25-mph headwind. Up hills.
I'll stop bitching. Incredibly, we maintained a positive attitude through all of this sadistic washboard, and after "first lunch," (on 90+ degree or 90+ mile days we get TWO lunches, which is unbelievably exciting) we managed to actually have fun. Lauren was insane, and chanting "Push it, Push it" up hills, and we (Bridget, Win, Lauren, Eric, Carrie, and I) all had an impromptu primal scream session at about the mid-point of a terrible, wind-ravaged plateau. My internal monologue, unprintable in this forum, was hysterical by then. It normally consists of three- and four-letter words that I blush about, but yesterday it was far worse-- strings of said words, creatively arranged, ending in "hills," or "wind." Or "leaders," though I'm not proud of that one.
All of that aside, on days like that I keep in mind that, no matter how much it sucks, it'll pass. And we'll make it, and it'll feel great to make it. We had no showers, and cold pizza, but the ice-cold, Marines-style shower I took was about the most satisfying one I've had in a while. We're in Ames, Iowa tonight, after a real nice 44-mile jaunt over some hills and against the wind. I like it here. More to come soon.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Fun Stuff
So, I’ve been writing a lot about my daily routine, but there’s some other stuff I thought I’d share with you about my day-to-day experience.
1. I’ve been doing a lot of biking, but I’ve also been doing a lot of eating. We burn 3500-4000 calories each day we ride, on top of the 1500-2000 we spend just breathing and thinking. So that takes a lot more consumption. I’ve lost about 15 pounds, despite eating more than I’ve ever eaten, aside from Wocks trips to Wes’s. Heck, we all eat a lot, leading to these alternate titles:
-Bike & Binge
-Bike & Bulimia
-Bike & Filled
-Bike & Blah
-Bike & Killed
-Bike & Barf
-Bike & Burp
2. I’ve also been playing a lot of music. Almost every night I pull out the ol’ geetar (Ah, if this ol’ geetar could talk… ‘Duh.’) and play for at least a half-hour. My finger pickin’s getting stronger, as well as my knowledge of the Beatles songbook (thanks for “I Will,” Bronwyn) and my ability to play bedtime music for sleepy riders. Turns out it’s easy to put people to sleep with an acoustic guitar when they’ve just come 92 miles by bike.
And almost every church we stay in has at least one piano (more like three…) so I’ve been getting in my required piano time. And I’ve been playing a lot more original stuff, since I don’t have my Real Book (sheet music). I’m thinking I’ll start recording some of them, as an alternate way to remember the trip.
It’s cool that an experience that I thought would be detrimental to my musicianship has actually been both inspiring and good for my technique.
3. I’ve been to three driving ranges en route, in Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Ohio.
Turns out the stiff plates in the bottom of bike shoes also make them really good golf shoes. My stroke’s back, and I can hit 250+ yard drives now.Tiger, watch out. You too, Dad.
4. The post-college “what am I gonna do with my life?!?!?” anxiety wasn’t really there too intensely post-Brown, but it certainly occupied a corner of my mind. It’s lessened considerably over the last month (this is our TWENTY-SEVENTH DAY together!) because I’ve seen such happy, generous, caring people in small communities living such respectable, ordinary lives across this country. The whole “I need to end up in New York with a career” train of thought suddenly seems quaint, or at least panicky. I’ll be happy somewhere, doing something cool, somehow. Could be Charlotte, NC. Could be Wellsboro, PA. Could be Seattle.
5. My Vermont-instilled belief that peeing outside is rewarding and enjoyable has been strengthened. As noted by all of my fellow riders, cornfields make great pee-stops. Also, roadside shrubbery, but it’s not nearly as fun.
6. State signs make for fun pictures. Thus far, poses have included:
-Thrusting bikes victoriously in the air, partially obscuring the state name itself
-Flexing arms, legs, and grimacing
-Spelling out state names YMCA-style
-Climbing up supporting poles like monkeys
-Climbing up onto the TOP of the state sign and laying out like a pin-up
-Mooning oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding indecent exposure charges
-And, of course, grinning like an idiot because you’ve just ridden through 7 states, more than 1300 miles, on a bike.
*Note: I have participated in some, but NOT ALL, of the aforementioned actions. I promise.
7. Everyone in America knows how to make Pasta Salad. Variations include: color of mayonnaise. Temperature of salad. Red peppers. Type of pasta used.
8. The most offensive thing to do to a biker riding across the country is to honk from 20’ back, drive by three inches from their handlebars at 65 mph, holler something about “nice shorts!,” and flick them off immediately after tossing an empty cigarette pack in their general direction. Bonus points for revving the engine as you accelerate into the distance. Bonus points for narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic as the driver swerves to investigate the resulting withering look.
9. The most satisfying way to respond to the gesture mentioned in item 8 is to smile, wave, and loudly thank the offending motorist as they disappear over the hill you’ve been climbing for 14 minutes. Trust me.
10. Declan/Maya/Nan/Bevin/everyone: there is NO SUCH THING as bulletproof tires, but the ones I bought are nearly puncture-proof. I hope. And there are 30 riders in the group, now that Derrick's back. My brain's not in a blender, and I can't wait to see you guys!
11. More to come, and more pictures. I’m out of stuff to talk about for the moment. Tomorrow’s the fourth of July, though, and promises to hold many hysterical games and escapades. Huzzah, and Happy Independence Day!
Monday, July 2, 2007
Lafayette-Gilman
Today was an exhilarating day—we rode really fast, with a tailwind, for about 44 miles, and then waited for lunch behind a truckstop diner, with a tilting incinerator and a towering turbine and a grease dumpster.
In the sun.
It was actually a very pleasant lunch spot. Perfect Americana. People kept going in to the diner for slices of pie (pecan, peach, strawberry-rhubarb, and blueberry, I think, though there were more cooling) and when the van got in, finally, from Lafayette, we feasted on donated Subway coldcuts and Panera baguettes, which I think is against sandwich chain rules or something. And it was 72 degrees, and cloudless.
After lunch we got the inside scoop from Ed, a really nice electrician who told us that Route 24, which we were planning on taking, was the state’s official thoroughfare for wide-load trucks. And that we’d be better off taking “1700N,” which was apparently a paved backroad through the cornfields, to Gilman. If you’ve never seen a state map of Indiana or Illinois, they look like checkerboards. Or circuitboards. All the roads go in straight lines, all oriented in cardinal directions, around gigantic corn- and soybean-fields. So all we had to worry about was that, once we got going, rights were North, and lefts after that were West. So we tried to take a few rights, and a few lefts, and make it in one piece to Gilman. Marie and Courtney both had cheapo drugstore radios, so they tuned to the same station for much of the ride, and we all danced/rode along. One of the stations had a “Sugar Ray Greatest Hits” playlist or something, which, unfortunately is just two songs. But they’re great songs, especially for the summertime.
We all agreed that the cornfield roads were like 2-lane bike paths, like limbo on two wheels. There could have been no time, or hours could’ve passed; no miles, or hundreds. The whole crew was struck by the same simultaneous euphoria, again and again.
We made it into Gilman after crossing a state line (many hilarious pictures) and a time zone, Eastern into Central. Every state that we enter since Pennsylvania will be a new one for me. Despite my earlier, somewhat grumpy blog post, OhIndianIllinoIowa reminds me a lot of the Connecticut River Valley—fertile soil, friendly people, and no pretensions. And lots, and lots, and lots, of corn. And soy.
All for today. More to come tomorrow.
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