Blake on 2 Wheels

Trans-America Ride 2009 Video

2009-09-10T17:03:00.003-04:00

Watch.Experience.Enjoy.

The Ombrophilous, Obeliscolychny and Oneiric Oregon Coast

2009-08-31T18:01:00.001-04:00

I've spent that past two days exploring the Oregon coast on my bicycle, which has been ripe with gorgeous sea vistas, foggy mornings, delicious seafood, and a considerable amount of overweight white tourists. I've only seen brief glimpses of this rugged coastal region in classic Hollywood films like "The Goonies," "Kindergarten Cop," "Point Break," and "Free Willy." Having spent only two days on the coast, I wish I could have another week to take in the sights, smells, and sounds of this beautiful area. Nevertheless, I am also very grateful to return home very soon. My flight lands in Boston on Tuesday evening, but I'll be away from Quincy for most of Wednesday. I hope to find time to catch up with you all and hear about your very own adventures soon! Until then, I hope you enjoy these photos:

Day 60: Eugene, OR to Florence, OR (83 Miles)

2009-08-29T19:46:00.007-04:00

I woke up this morning feeling rather melancholy. I knew today would be the grand finale, culminating with a simple dip of a front tire into the Pacific Ocean. I was excited to finish this journey I've been on these past two months; however, I'll certainly miss the sensation of traveling into the virtual unknown, meeting new people and finding temporary places to call "home" for the evening. To get through this day in a good mood, I had to remind myself that every journey's end is also the beginning of another. With that in mind, I rode on through the nearly abandoned streets of Eugene. The morning was cold and quiet, with a thick morning mist shrouding and muting my surroundings. This busy college town now took on the ethereal quality of a ghost town... in spite of this being the most populated city on the Trans-America.

I took a pleasant bicycle trail out of town and snacked on a few apples I took from the motel breakfast. This first section was very flat, but I still had the pleasure of climbing the Coast Range. With a much lighter bike, I rode on at a quick pace and stopped at a small gas station in Low Pass. There I met a very talkative and friendly lady who told me stories of several Trans-America cyclists stopping in at her store. I chatted with her for a while and they warned me of the next hill up the road. Feeling I had something to prove to myself, I sprinted up this final ascent over the Coast Range and kept up this sprint all the way to my lunch stop in a train-themed diner in Mapleton.

The majority of the morning was spent riding along the Sluslaw River, and the growing presence of brackish water smells motivated me on riding faster and harder. In terms of speed and time, this was definitely the quickest ride of my trip. I must had ridden about 70 miles in just under four hours. Now, of course, this was with a lighter load... but it almost motivates me in trying out for a cycling race of some sort back in Massachusetts (and I'm not even a competitive person!).

I was hoping the morning fog would lift and the overcast sky would give way to warm, delightful sunshine. I ordered a fish sandwich ("just for the halibut") and kept my eyes on the sky outside. Too excited to wait around for better weather, I headed out to finish off my last 15 miles to Florence. Then, not unlike my ascent over Hoover Pass in Colorado, the sun soon began to break through and enlighten my surroundings. I finally rolled into Florence at approximately 1:45PM and stopped to ask where I could find the nearest beach access. The shopkeeper said I would have to ride five miles North of town to find actual beachfront that was open to the public. Another 5 miles felt like nothing, so I headed into the Northern wind and came around a bend to be blasted with the wind and smells of the Pacific Ocean.

I almost immediately began to tear up. I wasn't necessarily crying, but my eyes were filled with enough to tears to make riding difficult. Dabbing my eyes, I pressed on to find a small private road that led me to the beachfront. I won't attempt to explain what was going on in my head and I probably won't comprehend this sensation for many days to come. I only remember being composed enough to ask a local scuba diver to take a few photos of the ceremonial dip and then made a few phone calls. I then just sat and watched the ocean mist flowing over the water, thinking of absolutely nothing.

Realizing I needed to get to a bike shop before it closed, I headed back to town and asked one of the bike mechanics about boxing up my bike and shipping it back. She first told me that the box was about 10 dollars... OK, I can do that. Then she told me that they would charge me extortionist prices to box it up and ship it for me. Thinking that up to $250.00 was not worth it, I started to brainstorm other options. I decided that I would wait for Monday, seeing that I want to use my bike to explore the coast for the next few days, and try to find a cheaper alternative with UPS or USPS. I then found the cheapest motel in town, which wasn't very cheap, and checked in for two days.

So as I sit in my motel room, I can only think of those who have helped me get here...

First, I must thank the kids of Montaña de Luz for giving me the inspiration to step outside of my comfort zone and live my life with a new sense of purpose and joy.

Thanks to those who donated their hard-earned money to the MdL fund raiser and not only made it just a success, but exceeding expectations of how much you will give for a great cause. I am forever grateful for your generosity.

Many thanks to my parents for supporting me on this endeavor. I know they weren't very happy to first hear that their son was going to ride alone across the country, but they were still quick to assist me in anything I needed.

Thanks to the fellow cyclists that befriended me and helped to create a small community on the road. The Loughborough Boys (Chris, Callum and Dowds): You guys gave me so many things to laugh at and definitely motivated me in becoming a stronger cyclist. I hope you guys find the West Coast to be very kind to you and I hope you'll find your way to Boston one of these days in the future. To Lady Chris and Lad Chris: you guys made Kentucky and Wyoming bareable and your generosity was very refreshing. Saz and Aaron: You guys were not only good for a laugh, but you were also ripe with great conversation and fun stories. Thanks for that.

Special thanks to Jonathan, who took off a week in his busy life to ride with me through Kentucky. It was great watching small dogs chase you and sharing in that entire experience with you. I know you only joined me for a week, but it was the perfect time. I don't know how I would have handled Kentucky without you, man. Also, many thanks to Greg for driving Jonathan down from Ohio and hanging out with us in Breaks. It was great to see you.

Thank you to my friends who helped me feel connected to home via phone conversations and emails. Matt, Jesse, Ashley May, Alex, Katie, Jessica, Anne, Kelly, and the many others who kept in touch with me: You guys were always there with me.

Thanks goes out to the Ralphe family, who took me into their home, fed me, and entertained me. That one day in Colorado Springs may have been my last rest day of the trip, but it certainly was enough to sustain me for the next month of riding. Give Buttercup and Geronimo a kiss for me!

Thanks to Dave Mann for his expertise in bicycle maintenance and sharing it with me. Without Dave, I'd be broken down on the side of the road somewhere outside Jeffrey City right now. Now I just have to pass on this karmic debt that Dave so generously handed down to me.

Thank you to those who wrote on my blog and left so many encouraging comments. From family to friends, you guys kept me motivated in sharing this experience with you all. It feels great to know that you all experienced this journey with me somehow, and that I'll be able to recall so many memories from looking back at this blog.

Thanks to those many, many faces that smiled at me on the road, to those who welcomed me into their homes and businesses, to those who waved or gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Lastly, thanks to God for keeping me safe and allowing me the oppurtunity to experience life in this way. I look forward to the next time I can be so thankful as I am right now.

Clemmie, I'm coming home!

Day 59: McKenzie River, OR to Eugene, OR (58 Miles)

2009-08-28T15:15:00.001-04:00

I woke up several minutes before my alarm clock this morning. Judging by my lively movements without the accompaniment of caffeine, I could tell that I'm very excited about these next few days. I threw everything together and made it out of the door by 7:00AM and pedalled ferociously to Vida, for a quick breakfast stop. Knowing I only had about 40 miles left until Eugene, I ate a very small portion and got back on the road in no time. As I got back onto my bike, I began to notice that my rear rim was rather untrue. I stopped for about 15 minutes and trued the wheel as best as I could, only to find that it was rather fruitless. Upon closer inspection I had found that my rim was done for. I had fractures in several sections on the rim and I just hoped I could make it to Eugene without the wheel falling apart on me.

I pushed forward with great rapidity, all the while looking very awkward with my wobbly rim. I made it into the outskirts of Eugene by 11:00AM and quickly found a UPS Store to ship my excess baggage back to Massachusetts. I said "goodbye" to my pannier bags, filled with many cumbersome items, and said "hello" to a faster, more agile bike. This newly unencumbered bike also made the presence of my wobbly wheel feel much more apparent, therefore I set my eyes to the nearest bike shop. Riding to the shop, I was treated to nice bicycle lanes and I started to notice cute girls with library glasses and others with dreadlocks. They all were riding bikes that were equally attractive as them. I then thought to myself: "This is my kind of town..."

I found a gem of a bicycle shop called "Paul's Bicycle: Way of Life." I was helped in figuring out the cheapest opportunity of replacing the rear rim and I'll be pleased with anything that gets me to the shore by tomorrow evening. As I left the shop, I realized it was too early to look for motel rooms, so I headed next door to "The Beanery." There I had a delicious Panini and some iced coffee. There I also witnessed a very adorable event. An older lady had tied her pet Beagle's leash to a patio chair outside the shop. While she was waiting in line, the Beagle proceeded to drag the chair into the store and knocked over several items. This precocious pup eventually found it's way to his surprised owner. Everyone in attendance had a good laugh.

It's starting to rain, and the forecast calls for better weather tomorrow. I'll be glad to have good weather on my final day. But that's not to say I'm complaining about the rain. I mean, what would a trip to Oregon be like without any rain? I plan on spending the rest of the day catching up with people on the phone and planning my next few days. I think I'm going to be in Florence until Monday, exploring the coast as much as possible. Anybody familiar with the Oregon coast in the area surrounding Florence? Let me know of anything worthy of a bike trip. Thanks!

Day 58: Redmond, OR to McKenzie River, OR (67 Miles)

2009-08-27T21:02:00.005-04:00

When you find an incredibly cheap motel, you usually have an "ah-hah!" moment that explains why you paid so little for lodging. I had thought I found a gem of a motel last night, with new sheets, a clean bathroom, and functioning appliances. I went to bed last night, fully pleased with not having such a moment. However, I woke up at 2:30AM to (surprise, surprise) have such a moment, indeed. A road work crew outside the motel was hard at work, drilling furiously into the ground. They were kicking the crap out that cement! If the heavy drilling sound was constant, it could have lulled me into a deep, fulfilling sleep. But no, it was sporadic and changed enough to bring enough attention to it's unnecessary loudness. Don't city laws restrict such loud activities near residential areas? But is a motel to be considered a residential building or commercial? In any case, the moral of the story is: I didn't get enough sleep last night.

I reset my alarm to 8:00AM and reluctantly began packing my stuff up and left the room within the hour. It was already warm and I was upset to miss out on the cooler early morning temperatures. Sweating more than I'd prefer to, I pushed uphill to Sisters and stopped for an early lunch at Subway. Sisters seemed like a cute little town, but I had a mountain pass to conquer! I was feeling very motivated to get this last mountain range behind me and cross over into "Western" Oregon. The dissimilar climates separated by the Cascades are worlds apart and I'm not too fond of the dry, arid climate I've been riding through for the last few weeks.

As I rode up towards McKenzie pass, I was motivated by other cyclists riding up with their carbon fiber bikes. I kept pace with these riders and found myself at the summit before I knew it. I stopped and spoke with a few cyclists and they told me interesting information about the area. The summit featured several volcanic magma flows and a beautiful 360 degree view of the "Three Sisters" and Mount Washington. I also met a few riders who were riding from Astoria, Oregon to Missoula, Montana. They informed me that I had a thrilling 20 mile descent, equipped with sharp switchbacks and freshly paved segments. Excited to experience this ride down from the pass, I rode on around the many bends on the pass and finally began my descent. Without hyperbole... I must say that this was the most enjoyable cycling experience I've ever had. Without a doubt, I will let any of my cyclist friends know that the descent of McKenzie pass is thoroughly enjoyable and equally thrilling. And that they need to ride this before they can't pedal anymore in their old age. It's just a damn shame that this road is closed 9 months out of the year!

The ride down from the pass also introduced me to the wet, fruitful climate of the Pacific Northwest. The astonishing tree canopy consisting of Western red cedar and Pacific silver fir provided for shade from the blistering sun. The sights and smells of the forest almost felt like a baptism from the dry and brutal climate of the Columbia Plateau. The drop in elevation was also very drastic. Within twenty miles, I dropped from over 5,000 feet down to 1,500 feet above sea level. All in all, I'm very glad I didn't have to take the alternative, less scenic route through the Santiam Pass.

I had the ambitious idea that I would reach Eugene by the end of the day, but my late start made me second guess this plan. The presence of powerful headwinds at the base of McKenzie sealed the deal in calling it a shorter day. I continued down Route 126 and found a gas station to stop in. I asked about places to stay for the night and the teller recommended the motel 3 miles down the road. I rode by a camp site and debated stopping there, but the temptation of a hot shower and a cool bed was too tempting. In terms of finances, I've done pretty well. I've spent more than I should have on this trip, but I still have a good portion of the money I saved... hence my weakness for motels. However, I must say that I will definitely be more frugal on my next journey and will hopefully not depend on currency as much as I have on this trip.

My plan for tomorrow consists of getting up early and riding 60-something miles to Eugene in time for lunch and attempt to ship back a good portion of my gear. I'd like to mail most of my heavy stuff back to Quincy and have a very light load for the ride to the coast. A fully loaded bike compared to just carrying field repair gear, water bottles and a few snacks makes a world of a difference! With that plausible scenario in mind, I'll have no trouble with the last 70-something miles to Florence. We'll see how that goes! I also found out that my parents purchased a flight for September 3rd, but I could attempt to change for an earlier flight so that I can attend the service for George on the 2nd. I also spoke with Kelsey, my boss, and she told me that I can get back to work on the 7th, which will be wonderful for getting back into my "regular" life and have time for catching up with friends. I'm positive that I'm going to miss this cyclical renewal of new adventures, faces, smells, sights, and sounds... but I'm strongly looking forward to getting back home!

Day 57: Mitchell, OR to Redmond, OR (73 Miles)

2009-08-26T22:20:00.000-04:00

They are not Henry. That's Rich and Rob, two really nice photographers who gave me a wealth of knowledge regarding Portland. I'm really excited to spend some time in the city; however, I need to get to the coast first!

That's Henry. He's overweight and bored. Please save him. Anyone interested in the "Free Henry" cause, please travel to Mitchell, Oregon with a pair of wire clippers and a good pair of running shoes...

I wasn't necessarily looking forward to riding this morning. This feeling usually accompanies the fact that I have to face a mountain ascent. This morning featured such a climb up to Ochoco Pass. This would be a 2,000 foot climb in just under 10 miles. On the other hand, the morning is the best time to conquer such climbs, due to cooler temperatures and stronger muscles. I stopped a few times to eat some "complimentary" muffins I took from the hotel and chug down some water. The climb went by a lot faster than I was dreading and I was already heading down from the Blue Mountains and towards the Cascades.

The descent wasn't as enjoyable as it should have been, due to a strong enough headwind that made the ride feel like a slight uphill. A strong wind during descents is quite the insult, but I didn't let it get to me. I thoroughly enjoyed the smell of pine and the breeze kept me from sweating too much. I noticed small forest fires on the horizon, which the photographers had warned me of. Apparently, these fires are so common, that you could be stopped by local firefighters and given a shovel to help out in deterring the fires. I'm sure these winds are quite the nuisance to firefighters as well. I passed Ochoco Lake and found myself in Prineville for lunch. I stopped at a Quizno's and studied the maps. I planned to try to make it to Sisters, with a quick stop at a bike shop in Redmond to look at my slowly deflating front tire. As I turned up a bend on Route 370, I soon faced a terrible, terrible wind.

The ride to Redmond was far more challenging than I had envisioned. The slight uphill, matched with very strong winds, made for a slow, dreadful crawl. The sun also began to bare down on me and by the following picture, well... you can see how I was feeling...

I made it into Redmond a little after 3:30PM and I decided to call it a day. I found a place called "Trinity Bikes" and found a shop run by some young kids. They definitely knew their bike stuff and we took a look at my front tire. Due to the longer Presta stem, I had caused a small puncture near the stem and we replaced the inner-tube, one with a smaller stem. Problem solved. I hope.

Tomorrow features the last major climb of my trip, McKenzie Pass. This pass is located near Mount Washington (7,794 ft) and Black Crater (7,251 ft). This pass is typically shut down up until July, due to snow. This is the doorway leading into West Oregon and a very wet climate. As you can tell, I've grown tired of arid climates and I'm really excited to delve into this final stretch of Oregon. I'm almost there... almost there.

In response to Ashley May's request, I'm going to do one better than my last post and attempt to explain why I'm riding...

I think I'm riding for the sole reason to better myself. It would be disingenuous of me to say I'm solely riding for the kids of Montaña de Luz. The fundraiser is just an amazing side-effect of this selfish act I've set forth and I'm forever grateful to those who made this an outstanding success. I'm riding to remove myself from the things I take for granted... my apartment, my friends, my job, my dog, etc. I'm riding to remove myself from any form of complacency and giving myself over to the hospitality and kindness of other people. I'm riding to cleanse myself of unhealthy habits and for a renewal in energy... a high colonic of the soul, if you will. I'm riding for the adventure. I'm riding to make new life-long friends and to spur on others to share in this universal experience. There's an unknown "something" about riding that I've seen in the eyes of fellow travelers, a twinkle of pure joy that goes unspoken. I'm riding because I can and I'm already longing for another experience just like this.

Here's the reason... I'm riding, because it's life amplified to it's fullest extent.

Day 56: Prairie City, OR to Mitchell, OR (84.5 Miles)

2009-08-25T21:37:00.026-04:00

The temperature decided to dip down into the upper 30's last night and made my tent seem all the more worthless. They should include a caveat when selling this tent: "Eureka Single Season Tent: Not Applicable to the NorthWest." Falling out of my tent, I walked over to the bathroom and came upon a small family of deer. There's a lot of wildlife out here. I heard an interesting trifecta of canine noises last night... an eclectic mix of long wolf howls, short coyote calls, and rapid domestic barks. I wonder if they all understand each other or they're just trying to out-shout the other like O'Reilly and Olbermann?

I broke camp and got on the road by 7:30 and began a pleasant ride to John Day, only thirteen miles away. I made it to my breakfast stop within 45 minutes and found a nice little restaurant to serve me a very delicious french toast breakfast. They not only had great food... they also supplied free WiFi, so I hung around for a bit updating the travel blog and checking emails. I had a short day planned, so I was in no hurry to get back on the road. However, I soon became bored with the internet world and quickly got back on the road. I noticed that my front tire had a very minuscule puncture and I decided to see how long it could last with each inflation. I stopped again in the town of Mount Vernon to send off my last batch of post cards and was assaulted with questions by a group of curious children. "Where are you from?" "Where are you riding to?" "Why are you riding?" The last question actually stumped me... maybe there are too many reasons or just one simple, yet allusive, reason?

I arrived into Dayville a little before noon and I instantly realized I couldn't just stop here for the day... in spite of a free stay at the local Presbyterian Church. I stopped in at a gas station, purchased some junk food and looked over the maps. The next stopping point was about 40 miles away and included a 2,000 foot climb up to Keyes Creek Pass. My legs were feeling just fine and the afternoon heat was somewhat tolerable due to some prevailing winds, therefore I quickly decided to keep riding. Little did I know that I was in for a very scenic, albeit challenging, afternoon of cycling.

The climb up from Dayville was very gradual and surprisingly enjoyable. Within minutes, I was riding towards the John Day fossil bed area. The gorge was very scenic and very windy. As I've written before, these narrow valleys and gorges funnel down winds and concentrate them into steady deterrents for cyclists. The next trip I do, I'll be sure to check out trends in wind patterns and will hopefully not have as many headwinds as I've had on this trip!

This section of the ride featured a multitude of snakes. The sight of slithering creatures makes on think they're seeing mirages. It's only when you ride up on to a nasty rattle snake, do you quickly recognize that threat and try to bike around them. Now, I have the knack for being susceptible to stereotypical phobias, poisonous snakes being one of them. It's not the bites or the creature that scares me, it's what they violently send into your bloodstream. The conscious awareness of a deadly substance traveling through your body is not very desirable. With that in mind, I was very aware of my surroundings when I stopped to take pictures or to eat a snack. Blake no like snakes!

As I was riding upward, my phone began to rang. Apparently, I had turned it on during my stop in Dayville and forgot to turn it off. The voice on the other hand was Chris Holmes (one of the lads) and he told me that he, Callum, and Dowds had met up to ride with the Chrisses, the Bernsteins, and Matt from Manchester. I would have loved to be riding with these guys, but I was happy to be this far along (I'm about 3 days ahead of these guys). I told Chris to send everyone my love and got back to the road. The ride up from the gorge was thrilling and beautiful, but I was not rewarded with my climb up into the high plains. I hit more winds and slowly inched forward as best as I could. I stopped to change out water in my bottles and then noticed a tree full of shoes. If I had an extra pair, I would have loved to build upon this beautiful work of art...

At about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I finally climbed over the pass and headed down towards the town of Mitchell. This descent was still slow, due to the omni-present headwinds. When I finally did pull into town (if you could call it one), I had to look hard for a person to ask about lodging/camping. I found a big bear of a man (who, ironically, takes care of a bear) and he told me that the local hotel offers a bunk and shower for 15 bucks. This sounded like a deal and I headed across the street to check in. After dealing with a very rude/impatient lady, I carried my junk up to the room and found two men already claiming their bunks. Robert and Rich were out from Portland on a photo expedition. I chatted with them a bit, took a shower, and headed next door for a bite to eat. I had the greasiest food and was attacked by flies and promptly paid the bill. It was probably the quickest dinner I've ever had. The waitress was nice, but she showed me a crazy picture of her feeding the local bear, "Henry." In one hand she was holding the large carrot into Henry's mouth and in the other hand, her baby. Good parenting 101. Oh, and I also met another Brit who was riding from Portland to Chicago. I told him what to expect and he headed off into the blazing late afternoon heat... I did not envy him. I'm going to head back to the room to hang out with the guys and hopefully talk more about photography. G'night!

Day 55: Baker City, OR to Prairie City, OR (69 Miles)

2009-08-24T21:45:00.001-04:00

I got a late start this morning. I had to wait around for the local "Flagstaff Sports" shop to open so that I could use their truing stand and purchase some more inner tubes. The guy was a little late to open the shop, but he arrived on a bike followed closely by his faithful dog. The mere presence of a dog can make me forget about trivial issues such as "time." I never caught his name, but the employee seemed like a really nice guy and we chatted it up a bit when looking over my tire. I spent about an hour in the shop and finally got on the road. By the sweat already accumulating on my skin at such an early hour, I could tell it was going to be a hot one...

The day's ride was going to be a challenging one. I had the option of either riding over three mountain passes and conquering the Elkhorn range in one day, or stealth-camping somewhere after the second pass and saving the last climb for tomorrow morning, and cooler temperatures. Suffice it to say, I chose the former option over the latter, in spite of a scary dehydration-situation... but I'll get to that soon enough...

As I rode towards Sumpter Pass, the first climb of the day, I witnessed something straight out of a BBC Planet Earth special. I saw a hawk swoop down to pick up a critter, I'm assuming it was either a fat chipmunk or some sort of prairie dog. As it had it's prey in it's talons, a smaller black bird flew down and began assaulting the hawk. The hawk subsequently dropped it's potential breakfast and it bounced once and ran off to the nearest hiding place. It was the most fascinating display of nature I've seen on the trip thus far, and I imagined the sultry voice of David Attenborough narrating the scenario in my head (which makes things all the more interesting).

Anyways, I rode over Sumpter Pass with relative ease, but I noticed that I was getting low on water. Checking the maps, there was a whole lot of nothing until Austin Junction, which was beyond Tipton Pass. I decided to reserve my energy on the next climb and try to drink more conservatively from then on. In spite of these efforts, I already took down my last drop when about half way up Tipton. The challenging climbs mixed with the 95 degree weather made me sweat enough to make my mouth go dry and coarse in moments. I took my empty water bottle and would shake it out upside down at RV's and cars that passed by, but no one stopped. I actually fulfilled the desert movie cliché and whispered "water" from time to time. I've passed out from dehydration/heat stroke before. Once when I was mountain biking with a friend and another when I rode from Rome to Naples. Thinking the third time might be the charm and finally get me, I kept my mind awake and took breaks to stave off the act of passing out.

Salvation came in the form of a small pipe, spewing forth the sweet nectar of life. Luckily, there were a few farmers at the spring and they told me it was definitely safe to drink. I quickly filled my spare liter bottle and drank it down within seconds, then proceeded to repeat this action. Dehydration was my biggest fear when preparing for this trip and I was relieved to overcome this dire situation I found myself in. I'll have to stop in the next town and purchase another spare liter water bottle, for the purpose of not repeating the same mistakes.

I rode a few more miles to find a gas station/cafe/grocery store at Austin Junction, and not much more. It was only 3:30PM by the time I reached this potential stopping point, so I grabbed my map and thought it over with a milkshake. Feeling that I had enough energy to make it over Dixie Pass, the third and final pass of the day, I pumped myself up and climbed over my last ascent in the Elkhorn Mountains. Before I knew it, I was quickly riding down a thrilling descent into a beautiful valley. Within minutes, I was pulling into Prairie City and quickly found a place to pitch my tent. I'm camping near a defunct railroad depot and will be eating crappy Ramen noodles tonight (for the sake of saving money). Looking over the map, I'll probably have a shorter day and stop in Dayville, where there's a Presbyterian Church that offers "hostel-like" accomodations. I'm getting close now... I can nearly smell the ocean!

Day 54: Oxbow Dam, OR to Baker City, OR (71 Miles)

2009-08-23T20:29:00.002-04:00

I hit a wall today. I had pushed my body so much the day prior, that my mind could not compensate for the anguish of today's ride. On the map, it looked like a feasible 70 miles up through Hell's Canyon and into a large valley next to the Elkhorn Mountains. Conversely, this was to be the most painful and dreadful section of the trip so far...

I woke up well before my alarm clock and got to work on repairing my tires. It appeared that the front tire had deflated entirely overnight, while the rear tire was still holding about 30 psi. Deciding to see how long I can last on the rear tire, I only took care of the front tire. I also attempted to true the rear rim, but I only saw minor improvements. After patching the front tube, I packed up myself and said goodbye to the Hell's Canyon Angels and got on the road by 8:00AM. The morning climb out of Oxbow was going along pretty well, until my stomach began to sound off rumbles of fury. I stopped for a granola bar, but found that this was not going to do the trick. I kept pressing on and debated taking a 2 mile detour to the town of Halfway, but decided to press on towards Richland.

Seperating my hungry stomach and a diner in Richland, was a beast of a hill. This 1,000 foot climb was rather steep and this is when I began to feel the ramifications of yesterday's ride finally catching up with me. My left knee was periodically jolting with pain and my stamina decreased rapidly. After taking a break and keeping my eyes open for rattlesnakes, I finally got over the summit and began the ride down to Richland. I knew I was in for a treat, when a horrible side wind pushed me several feet as I was riding down at speeds above 30mph. Sadly, the winds were coming from the direction I must next face, the West. As I hit flat land, the next mile to lunch was almost unbearable. The wind was thrown at me so fierce, I almost broke down into tears. Hell's Canyon is certainly living up to it's name.

Looking over the maps, I debated riding further to Baker City. There was nothing for the next 50 miles except the wind, heat, and rattlesnakes. This desert climate can certainly get to you, and it got to me today. I first got the idea of hitching a ride, but Richland took on the resemblance of a ghost town on a Sunday afternoon. About 10 miles out from town, I began to notice my rear tire was deflating rather quickly. I stopped, pumped it, and rode another mile to find it deflated completely. I tried replacing the inner-tube, and periodically "thumbed it" when trucks and SUV's drove by. After realizing that I didn't have the patience and energy to force the wheel off my rear rim, I broke down and started looking for a cab service. Much to my chagrin, the cab service in Baker City consisted of only one man with a broken down Ford Pinto, so I kept "thumbing it" until a nice elderly couple pulled up in a smaller sedan. I explained to them my situation, and they told me they were on their way back from church and will return with a pickup truck in another 20 minutes or so. Looking at my surroundings, this sounded like the best plan in the world!

The Sholds welcomed me into their home and fed me a delicious lunch. We sat at their table, telling stories of shared experiences from Honduras and life in general. It was really refreshing to see a family bring in a complete stranger and make him feel at home. I also played around with their Border Colley, who was bitten in the face twice by a rattle snake. The dog had the last laugh, though... having killed it as retribution. After playing with a puffy-faced dog (from the venom) and thanking them, Steven offered to drive me further to Baker City. Feeling I had no other options, I graciously accepted his offer. In return, I offered to pay for gas... saying "Hey, I've made it this far without gas!" Now most people will stop and say: "Hey! Isn't hitch-hiking considered cheating?" First off, I've made so many side-trips on this journey, that I'd have to hitch a lot longer than 30 miles to not make up the miles. Secondly, I'm not doing this trip for the "accomplishment factor" alone, (technically, I've ridden enough miles to be in the Pacific Ocean by now)... No, I'm riding for the adventure and for the kids of MdL. I could quit right now, without ever having seen the ocean and still walk away from this experience with a sense of fulfillment that I've never had before. The more I convince myself that this trip is about milestones and achievements, the more it will delude me from what this experience is really all about.

Day 53: Riggins, ID to Oxbow Dam, OR (127.5 Miles)

2009-08-22T22:02:00.005-04:00

I forgot to mention a funny story from yesterday. I was riding through the various bends leading from the town of Kooskia and I began hearing the sounds of gunfire. As I turned one bend, I found a man firing a sniper rifle into a large embankment. I wanted to stop and take a picture, but then again... Who fires a sniper rifle at the earth on a Friday morning? Idaho provides a host of interesting sorts, including a drugged out individual who saluted me with a very passionate "Aye-aye captain!" I'm assuming he lives in a place much akin to this following Waco-esque homestead:

Idaho is beautiful, but I was getting quite antsy when straddling the border of Oregon for so long; therefore, I channeled my inner Kevin Costner from American Flyers and put in some solid mileage to make it to the Oregon border. On top of the miles, I also had about 4,000 feet of climbing to do throughout the day...

In spite of steady climbing, I was keeping very good pace and made it to New Meadows for a quick lunch. At this time, I decided that I would only stop in Cambridge for dinner (my initially planned stopping point for the day) and keep riding over a 4,131 foot pass and back into Hell's Canyon. Luckily, the winds were weak enough for me to keep a good momentum and push through several challenging climbs.

I was extremely motivated to make it to Oregon, realizing that this was a very important benchmark. I couldn't wait to cross into my tenth and final state.... I kept repeating "Oregon, Oregon, Oregon," when I began to grow tired of cycling through narrow roads. In spite of it being a weekend, the traffic was very manageable and there were very few 18-wheelers on the road. Just adjacent to route 95 was the Weiser River Trail, an unpaved trail that use to be a railroad line. If I had thicker tires, I would have definitely taken advantage of this beautiful trail! Here's the trail's website: http://www.weiserrivertrail.org/.

I stopped in Council for a chocolate milk and a candy bar, then pushed on to Cambridge for dinner. I got into a conversation with the diner owner and she explained to me the details of the climb ahead. It sounded like it was going to be challenging, but I would be rewarded with the thrilling seven mile descent into Hell's Canyon (which would be my second ride back into the winding canyon). Excited to get into Oregon, I paid the bill and headed back into the afternoon heat.

After a slow crawl up to the pass, I was rewarded with a thrilling descent; however, I began to notice my front tire was losing air at a rapid pace. By the time I crossed the Brownlee Reservoir Dam and into Oregon, I noticed that not only my front wheel had a puncture, but my rear tire was bouncing. Expecting the worst, I found an air bubble between the tire and the tube. Having never seen this before, I was quite baffled. I removed the sharp rock that had caused the small puncture and the bubble dissipated. I pumped up both tires and rode another 20 miles up the canyon towards Oxbow. I found that the front tire's leak was far more serious, but my rear rim had become warped, or "not true." I was losing daylight, so I pumped up the front and made the final climb up to the Oxbow Dam camping area.

As I pulled in, I asked a drunk elderly couple where I could find water and they pointed me in the direction of the camping area. I rode to the nearest green patch and threw my bike against a tree, when a nice lady approached me with a drink. She then invited me over to meet her friends and then proceeded to feed me. These friendly families were from Portland, and were going to raft down the Snake River for the next week. We sat for a while and swapped some fun stories... it was a fantastic way to end a long grueling day. I thanked them for everything and proceeding to pitch my tent, take a shower, and fall asleep. I've decided to wait for tomorrow morning to deal with my tires. I'm only hoping that this is the most trouble Oregon throws my way... oh well, at least the people here are great!

Day 52: Kooskia, ID to Riggins, ID (77 Miles)

2009-08-21T22:15:00.021-04:00

These odd time zone changes have been throwing my eternal alarm clock for a loop. I woke up way before Jon and spent the morning looking over my maps. I'm still needing to average about 70 miles a day to finish in Florence by August 31st, not bad considering I've had an accident in the Appalachians and fierce winds have been thrown my way. After crunching numbers and making cheap motel coffee, I said my goodbyes to Jon and hit the road. I'm glad I stopped in Kooskia, because the climb up to Grangeville would have been horrific in the afternoon heat.

I climbed about 3,000 feet and found myself eating a horrible breakfast at "Hillside Cafe." I could tell that the waitress really disliked her job and her bad mood was cast over the entire room. Negativity spreads like the H1N1 Virus through gringos in Cancun. I was actually glad to leave this place and get back into the heat. The ride over Old White Bird Hill was gradual enough and the trees provided some shade, which was greatly appreciated. I could tell from the livestock finding shade under trees and those lying close to the ground, it was going to be a scorcher.

A scorcher it surely was... it got up to a sultry 102 degrees and I was descending into the fittingly titled "Hell's Canyon." This canyon is deeply carved with steep walls lining the entire way. The canyon follows the Snake River, a popular rafting destination. The ride down into the canyon was the most thrilling experience of my life. The descent was a seven mile steep ride down a series of switchbacks carved on the side of a mountain. Again my hands were aching from breaking so much, but I didn't mind... the scenery was breathtaking and there was no traffic on Old Highway 95. I quickly reached the bottom and grabbed a quick snack from a general store in White Bird... Yellow Gatorade and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, part of this complete snack break.

The rest of today's trip was hardly enjoyable. I had to ride on the broken shoulder of Highway 95 and dodge recreational vehicles and 18-wheelers, all the while wiping the stinging sweat from my eyes. Today was certainly the hottest day of my trip. Luckily, I had an extra stockpile of water and this kept me energized to reach my final destination of Riggins. Feeling frugal, I checked a local RV park and their costs for camping and showers were borderline absurd... so I rode down further to find another cheap motel. The more I sleep in these motel beds, the more cumbersome and unnecessary my camping gear becomes. Here's to hoping that Oregon is more camper-friendly than Idaho and Montana has been...

Before I crossed into Riggins, I went back into "Mountain Time," losing an hour. This route has put me in a strange time paradox. And, if I'm looking at my maps correctly, I'll cross back into Pacific Time Zone when I cross into Oregon.... strange.

I spent the good portion of tonight talking on the phone with my dad, who informed of some sad news that I'll address at the end of this entry, and with friends. The more I speak with these people, the more I long for the end of this journey. I'm sure this is an unhealthy desire and will only distract me from the beauty of these last few days. But it's true.. I long for returning to my apartment, to be with my dog, to work at a job I truly enjoy, and to be with people I truly love. If this trip has taught me anything, is that I have a great life to return to.

Lastly: I'm sorry to write that today the world has lost a very great man. George Mitchell passed away this afternoon amongst family and friends. Known for being the life of every party, his laughter could be heard for miles around and his enjoyment of life was truly palpable. He was the first person to ever give me a nickname that stuck, "Joe Cheeseburger Blake." I loved George, and my heart goes out to the Mitchell family. I'm sorry I could not be around during this difficult time... but please know that I'll be thinking and praying for you guys while I ride. God bless!

Day 51: Lolo Hot Springs, MT to Kooskia, ID (110 Miles)

2009-08-20T20:23:00.022-04:00

Another cold night followed by another cold morning... it's time to say goodbye to Montana. I climbed over Lolo Pass and crossed into a new state and a new time zone. My introduction to Idaho was very enjoyable. I spent my first few miles riding down from Mount Fuji and into the Lochsa River Basin. This was a very scenic and quiet ride, fully accompanied with docile deer and warming sunshine. Before I knew it, I had already arrived to my morning breakfast stop, the Lochsa Lodge...

Pulling into the lodge, I spotted a cyclist loading up his bike. I approached him and Brendan introduced himself. It turns out that he's from Marshfield, MA and was riding with another neighbor. Jenna came out of the lodge and we all got to talking. Jenna and Brendan were riding in memory of their friend, and Jenna's fiancé, who was killed in a kayaking accident. They have a facebook page called "TOUR DE HUNTER" and a website as well. They're riding into Missoula and spending some time there, and will eventually end up in Massachusetts by late November. We chatted some more and eventually parted ways and I made my way towards eating a scrumptious breakfast. Idaho knows how to do breakfast and this french toast plate was, by far, the best morning meal I've had all trip.

Fully satisfied, I rode on with the Lochsa, enjoying the smells of fresh pine and the sounds of waterfalls. The temperature was increasing dramatically and I was prepared to face "near record high temperatures" later in the afternoon. I was feeling good and made it an effort to keep a good momentum until a lunch stop in Lowell, and this meant no stops for photos or pee.. the latter fact has been easier to do now that I've perfected my cycling-while-urinating technique (don't worry, I don't pee all over myself). This momentum was going well until a large 18-wheeler drove me off the road. Luckily, I fell onto some soft sand/gravel and was not seriously harmed. The trucker was not fully at fault... route 12 is much akin to a super model... very curvaceous, narrow, and features tiny shoulders. The trucker probably did not see me until it was too late and his exuberant horn usage was probably not malicious.

My momentum began to slow down when I hit road works in process for the next 26 miles. To make things easier, I met a new friend. Jon's from Bristol, UK and is riding from New York City to Seattle. Here's his travel blog. We spent the next 20 miles riding behind pilot cars and sharing stories. Jon and I then stopped in Lowell for food and milkshakes. I've found that these sugary treats are quite delicious and great for energy. I didn't realize it, but I had already ridden close to 80 miles by lunch time and we decided to call it a day in Kooskia, a town located in the Nez Perce reservation.

Surprisingly, I could have ridden for longer... but my new hungover friend was keen on sharing the expense of a cheap motel room. Feeling like 100+ miles was a long enough day, I gladly complied. We checked into a dive, showered, and quickly gravitated to the nearest cafe for more milkshakes. Jon commented on how it's a shame we had to ride in separate directions the next day (he's riding West into Washington and I'm riding South towards Oregon) and I agreed. Riding alone has very few benefits, and I'm very fortunate for the times I've shared the road amongst new friends. When riding with fellow cyclists, you develop a sense of camaraderie... a universal appreciation for a fellow adventurer and a comforting acknowledgement that you're not all alone out there on the road... they're a Godsend.

Day 50: Stevensville, MT to Lolo Hot Springs, MT (70.5 Miles)

2009-08-19T20:01:00.020-04:00

I did not want to leave the hotel this morning. It was, by far, the most luxurious and comfortable room I've ever stayed in... and the price was a steal! I got up around 7:00AM and lounged around with breakfast and coffee. In terms of total distance, I didn't have a long day planned... but, the majority of the day would be spent climbing. The maps have you ride 15 miles off route and into Missoula, solely to visit the headquarters of Adventure Cycling Association, a non-profit cycling organization. I got onto the road around 8:30AM and the majority of the morning was spent on a pleasant bike trail that kept me away from the nasty four lane highway; however, I had to rejoin the highway to get into Missoula.

With the amount of debris (i.e. glass, shredded tires, metal shrapnel, etc.) on the small shoulder, I was genuinely surprised I never got a puncture. On the other hand, I almost urinated myself with a few close calls with semi trucks and dump trucks... It really reminded me of my prior highway predicament outside of Naples, Italy... only I could understand the obscenities being shouted at me.

Dear Adventure Cycling: Please raise some funds to create an easier/safer alternative route to get to your headquarters. The most unpleasant experience of my trip was riding to and from your location. This is a big no-no, guys.

I did make it into town and by the amount of hipsters giving me judgemental glances, I could tell I was in a college town. Missoula seemed like a cool enough place to waste some time, and that's exactly what I did. I stopped into the first bike shop I came across and replaced my rear breaks and had a technician look at my squeaky headset. I then rode towards the Holy Mecca of cycling, the Adventure Cycling Association headquarters...

At first glance, the headquarters looked exactly like a church. This, I found out later, is not far from the truth. The building used to be an old church and was renovated into an office/complex. Much akin to a church, they welcomed me in with great hospitality. I was treated to ice cream and "pop." A younger lady gave me the grand tour and I was almost overwhelmed with the amount of history that covered the walls of the building. I spent a lot of time just looking at photos and reading articles. The bike in the photo below took part in the 1976 ride and belonged to a cartographer (a guy who works on maps).

I also found a wall of 2009 cyclists. Most were taking part in smaller tours (like Seattle to Denver, or Missoula to Chicago, etc.), but there were a lot of Trans-Am riders that I recognized. I later had my photo taken and took my humble place amongst these amazing people...

Realizing I could have spent all day here, I decided to finish my Dr. Pepper and hit the road. On my way out I met Dale, a Seattle native riding to Florida. Dale was riding an old Schwinn Varsity and is lugging all of his stuff in a dog trailer. Dale's adventure can be followed from the following website: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/rideout. I spent some more time hanging out with Dale and then heard my watch ringing off it's noon o'clock alarm, thus I had say my goodbyes and began riding out of town...

I stopped for a burrito, which subsequently gave me stomach problems for the rest of the day. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that the temperature had increased dramatically and was in stark contrast of the last few days. I took off any unnecessary layers and slowly rode towards my final destination, Lolo Hot Springs, which was located right near the Idaho border. I decided not to ride any further than that, mainly due to a 66 mile stretch past the border that featured nothing more than trees and assorted wildlife. The afternoon ride was slow and painful. My left leg has been acting up more and I definitely felt it during the climb up from Lolo. Pain aside, it was a beautiful route that brought me through a narrow valley with river streams on each side. I'm sure this area had inspired a local author, David James Duncan, in writing novels such as The River Why and The Brothers K. I'm currently sitting in a bar, snacking on an appetizer and debating my options for the night... it seems they're not many. Hmmm... should I get stung with exorbitant prices from one lodging place or bike across the street and get ripped off by them? Hmmm...

Day 49: Wisdom, MT to Stevensville, MT (94 Miles)

2009-08-18T20:38:00.001-04:00

Last night was a pretty low-key affair. I got some dinner at Diane's restaurant, played with some local dogs and went back to the cabin to pop in a VHS tape. After some debate, I finally decided on the 1983 film entitled "The Big Chill." What? A movie with Jeff Goldblum AND William Hurt? Sold! All in all, it was a solid film that portrayed a pretty realistic depiction of friends and it made me long for the days of hanging out with the old "gang." It's a shame that distance and time can seperate people like Alex Limage, Jonathan Youngman, and Greg Lanham from my life. I love these guys and it pains me to think that I'll only be able to spend short vacations with them. Oh well, it can only make me appreciate those in my currently in my life all the more greater.

I got on the road around 7:30AM, but had to swing by the restaurant to drop off the keys to Diane. She persuaded me to eat, like any good mother would do... mainly because there wasn't any other stops for the next 40 miles or so. After quickly eating a breakfast sandwich, I said goodbye to Wisdom and hello to Chief Joseph Pass, the last time (I think) I will pass over the Continental Divide. The pass was at 7,241 feet, but had a nice 3,000 foot descent into a valley. The climb up to the pass was gradual enough to convince me to muscle up the entire way. I reached the top without a need for a break and quickly rode down to the other side. The descent had a quick stop and turn onto Highway 93. As I was turning right, I did a double-look and noticed a "Welcome to Idaho" sign about 50 yards off to the left. I hadn't realized that today's trip would bring me so close to the border. Not feeling like backtracking, I'll save my crossing over into Idaho for tomorrow...

The ride down to Sula was thrilling and semi-dangerous. There were several switchbacks, with fallen rocks on the shoulders and I'd have to decrease speed drastically to avoid them. On my way down, I saw a mother mountain lion and her two cubs running across the road and quickly disappearing behind a guardrail. Sadly, I was too mezmerized and had too much momentum to stop and get my camera out... which is a common theme. These photographs are only poorly timed glimpses of the beauty that surrounds me. They fail at portraying the sense of scale and majesty of mountains, valleys, and forests. They capture smiles, but not the voice or soul of that person. It's quite the fool's errand to fully illustrate this experience via photographic evidence, so I hope that my words can somehow help fill this gap.

I spent the majority of the afternoon riding at high speeds, in spite of a slight headwind. I felt energized enough to challenge myself and push my muscles to their quasi-maximum potential. I also only stopped in a few towns for a chocolate milk and snack. Before I knew it, I was already close to my final destination at 3:00PM. I had made good time. But then it hit me, I had completely forgotten a good portion of the last three hours. I had been focusing so much on pushing myself, that I had forgotten to stop and appreciate the beautiful Bitterroot Valley I had ridden through. It's strange how single-track a mind can be...

I arrived into Stevensville at 3:30 and was told to check out the Stevensville Historic Hotel. A local lady with a tie-dye shirt said they had special deals for cyclists and that sounded mighty-fine to me. I found the restored building and walked into the lobby. By the look of things, I instantly thought this place was above my pay grade. Fortunately, it wasn't... I got a room, with a huge bed, and an amazing bath tub with jacuzzi jets! I think I'm gonna soak in this thing for a long time and relax in the bathrobe they supplied (I've never worn a bathrobe before... it's like a comfortable hospital gound, but I have to remember the opening is in the front this time!)

Day 48: Dillon, MT to Wisdom, MT (66.5 Miles)

2009-08-17T20:13:00.004-04:00

So much for that epic 160 mile day I had planned. For some odd reason, I thought I could wake up early enough and have enough energy to conquer three passes and make it into Stevensville by sundown. This, obviously, has not come to fruition. For one, I did not go to bed at a proper time. I hung out with the motel clerk, Cassie, last evening and got into bed around midnight. Therefore, I rolled out of bed at 7:30AM and took full advantage of the continental breakfast. After such a lackadaisical morning, I already resigned myself to a more moderate goal for the day. Looking over the maps, it looked like the town of Wisdom was the only logical stopping point, leaving another 90 miles or so to go for the following day. I had no idea why I thought I could conquer three mountain passes and pull in that many miles. Maybe I've grown too confident?

I initially thought the town of Dillon was rather small and depressing; conversely, I had only stopped just on the outskirts of the town and realized I missed out on the "heart" of the town completely. "Oh well," I thought and I kept on riding. There's not much thinking going on when cycling. I saw this trip as an opportunity to think, but most of my philosophizing occurs when I'm off my bike. I mostly just sing songs in my head or just repeat "wow" when looking at beautiful vistas. For a Monday, the traffic was very light... though I believe this is because I'm riding through very rural areas. The majority of the day was spent riding through Badger and Big Hole passes, with not much in between. I stopped a few times to chew on some old beef jerky and I found a pack of brown sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tarts, which gave me way too much excitement over such a sugary treat...

In contradiction to the local weatherman proclaiming "warmer weather," it was still a chilly day. I sporadically took off clothing during climbs and quickly donned them again on top of breezy mountain passes. I strolled into Jackson, home to more natural hot springs, and found another rider. For the life of me, I can't remember her name.. but we spent an enjoyable lunch together. She was riding from Wisdom and thinking of calling it a day in Jackson. She had originally planned on riding cross-country; however, she's run into so many "side-adventures," (such as boating down Snake River with complete strangers in Idaho) that she's altered her plan to end the trip in Denver, CO. Eager for more company, she begged me to stay in Jackson for the night.. but I had to keep riding and ride I did.

Facing the wind again, I rode on towards Wisdom. This latter section of my trip went by fairly easy and uneventful, with the glaring exception of some insect stinging my neck.. which friggen hurt, man! I arrived into town some time after 4:00PM. I was told by locals that it had gotten down to 29 degrees last night. Realizing that my single season tent would fail miserably at protecting me from these frigid conditions, I began my search for a roof to put over my head...

As it turns out, an Adventure Cycling group of cyclists were staying in town for the night and they had booked all the motel rooms available. A lady then told me to head over to Big Hole Restaurant and talk with Diane, the owner. I met Diane, a lady with an infectious smile, and she threw me the keys to her cabin. Expecting another place to sleep not unlike Guffy, CO... I found really nice lodging and for a cheap price too! - This is a good thing, if this cold weather keeps up, I'll be lucky to have enough cash to buy my bus ticket to Portland!

Now, if you'll excuse me.. I'm gonna go play with some puppy-wuppies!!!

Day 47: Ennis, MT to Dillon, MT (76 Miles)

2009-08-16T19:22:00.020-04:00

I woke up this morning to find a chilly 35 degrees of frigid temperature outside the door. I wasn't prepared to encounter such coldness, so I decided to wait until 9:30AM to leave. I met a local guy last night at Subway and we talked it up a bit about how some drivers can be really rude to cyclists around here. I told him I've yet to run into any of these encounters... it seems I spoke too soon. I had about seven notable "rough encounters" with other automobiles. Most of them consist of laying on their horns and giving me only inches of clearance... and each time there was no shoulder and no oncoming traffic. I try my best at not being visibly angry, to not even give them the pleasure. But it does put me in a funk. I become perplexed with how and why anyone would do something like that? Such blatant disregard for human life... and for what? A laugh? It's not like I'm making some political statement they can disagree with... or that I'm inconveniencing them in any way... then what is it? Sadly, I think human nature is open to inexplicable crudeness to the other for no just reason... not race, not ideologies... just "because."

This morning was spent climbing over 3,000 feet from Ennis to Virginia City. The climb was long, but not very difficult. I was proud to note that I didn't have to switch into "granny gear" and I never stood up the entire ascent. I also limited myself to one picture/water break, and that was only a minute. I can't wait to get back to my little 25 mile loop through Quincy and see how well I manage. I also can't wait to get back into running. I feel like I've built enough stamina to overcome the "hump" of getting back into the hobby (I often become extremely discouraged when barely surviving a three mile jog) and now it seems all I need is some new running shoes (May, if you're reading this.. maybe we could go shopping for some when I get back?).

I rode down a thrilling and very fuh-fuh-fuh-freezing 7% grade descent into Virginia City, a cool little tourist town that was once a mining village. I stopped into a small diner for breakfast and had a long conversation with the owner. She was very supportive of what I was doing and told me that she had MS, and that a few riders came through and it touched her greatly. I also interacted with an interesting fellow who is a self-described retired cowboy, tourism guide, and aspiring television narrator. He told me he has "work" on PBS and is working on getting some work with the History Channel. We then talked about inflection, tone of voice, and accents. I wish I could've talked for longer, but I had miles to bike. Today's riding wasn't very thrilling, besides the aforementioned "rough encounters" I had with a few cars. It mostly consisted of riding through a large valley and, yes, against the wind. To make things more tolerable, today's wind only ranged from 5 to 10 mph and for that I was thankful.

I stopped again in Twin Bridges for a taco salad. The service here was slow and I was antsy to get back on the road. The last 25 miles or so were the most challenging. The wind became more consistent and resistant. I rode up to a scenic overlook area and the couple there said they had met me at Old Faithful. It clicked and we had a "small world" moment. They told me I must've been "hauling it" to make it here, and I assured them I've certainly been trying.

I rode into Dillon at 4:30PM, feeling rather tired. I couldn't find any place for WiFi.. so I'm here at McDonald's, getting nickel'd and dime'd with their charging for internet, sauce packets, etc. First they indoctrinate you to obesity at a young age with their "Happy" Meals and then they have the gull to charge you for internet! Damn you, Ronald.

There's a small cineplex in town that's playing Michael Mann's "Public Enemies." I might see this film, despite mixed reviews, and call it an early night. I'd love to put in a long day tomorrow, God willing, and make it into Stevensville; however, two passes and the wind may have something to say about that. Wish me luck!

Day 46: West Yellowstone, MT to Ennis, MT (74 Miles)

2009-08-15T19:21:00.003-04:00

I got a late start this morning. I looked over the elevation chart and was relieved to find that today's ride was going to be non-taxing on my body. There was a gradual decline of 2,000 feet down to Ennis, my final destination. In theory, this would be an almost effortless day of cycling. This, obviously, turned out not to be... but I'll get to that later. I spent the majority of the morning updating the last of the blogs and eating "complimentary" breakfast foods. I finally got out of the room by 10:00AM and was on the road shortly thereafter. The ride out of West Yellowstone was nice enough, albeit colder than I expected from a mid-August day. The highs never got over 60 today, therefore I was bundled up pretty well. About 10 miles into my journey, I noticed an absurd amount of Montana highway patrol cars driving by at high speeds. I then spotted a collection of people waiting on the side of the highway. I stopped and asked a few guys what was going down. They informed me that President Obama's secret service/motorcade was coming through. It was only minutes when the fast moving black SUVs filled with bald guys with glasses came rolling through. They drove in an interesting/impressive zig-zag formation. I was only able to snap this uninteresting photo:

After the motorcade passed through, I chatted with the guys and they believed Obama was being flown into the local airport by helicopter and these cars just obtained his entourage. They then joked about the overt amount of police in the area and commented that they should be "back east, robbing every bank they could find." I wished them luck and turned left onto route 287. It was then I faced a headwind that would stay with me to the final destination of the day. My plan for a leisurely ride went out the window in that very moment.

I rode against the wind and stopped at RV park store for a Heath bar and some potato chips. Today was going to be another snacking day, with no planned stops for lunch or dinner. I then continued on up the Madison River and rode over the Hebgen Dam. Riding down into the Missouri Flats, I was hit with winds that almost sent me off my bike.

The feeling of having to push yourself down a hill is the worst feeling a cyclist could ever have... well, I guess saddle sores are worse. Anyways, I kept pushing and found a rest stop to give my legs a break. I sat down at a picnic table next to two motorcyclists, a father and son from Utah, and began chatting with them about the wind. They explained that the wind even pushes them around, especially when riding by trucks. We talked for a while and decided to get back on the road again and back into the wind.

My last stopping point was going to be the small town of Cameron, which turned out not to be a town at all... just a post office and a closed restaurant. About five miles out from the town, I began noticing dark and ominous clouds coming over the mountains to the West. It was only moments later when it began to rain, then hail. These hail pieces were only the size of small pebbles, but man-oh-man... did they hurt. It was like being pelted by paint balls, except very cold paint balls. The hailstorm only lasted about 10 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I spent the whole time slowly riding with my head titled down at the road. The hail really stung my face, especially my nose... so it was not easy riding. The hail then turned back into cold rain and I pressed on to my final destination.

Ennis is a nice little town at the base of a 3,000 foot climb I must face in the morning. I could have rode over this and ended the day in Virginia City, but the wind definitely changed my mind on this. The scenery today was not any less spectacular than prior days; however, my appreciation for these settings was dwindled due to the abysmal elements I had to face. I think I've been spoiled by the near-perfect weather I've had during this trip. Sure, the wind has not been friendly... but I couldn't complain about anything else. If I had to ride in the rain for the rest of the trip, I'd say it would be fair enough. Alright, the Subway dude just gave me a look that said: "Dude, this not a library and/or Internet Cafe," so I should go! Peace, peace, and chain grease.

Day 45: Colter Bay, WY to West Yellowstone, MT (91.5 Miles)

2009-08-14T23:07:00.001-04:00

An impressive display of nature came rolling through our campsite last night. No, sadly, it was not a stampede of elk or a family of bears... it came in the form of a fast-moving thunder/hailstorm. It rocked our tents and came through within a few minutes. After the storm passed, I looked out to see clear skies again. Chris woke me up around 5:30AM and I started making some coffee. I was feeling very groggy and moved slower than the others. I realized that I needed to pick up the pace when Chris and Aaron were already done breaking camp. I told them to not wait around for me and I'd catch up to them. A half hour later, I was finally on the road.

I first caught up to Saz and successfully "scared the crap" out of her. I then found Aaron overlooking a beautiful panoramic of the Tetons over Jackson Lake. We stopped and just looked on in complete silence... I rode on ahead and found signs saying "Loose Gravel Road Next 8 Miles" and "Pavement Ends 500 Feet." Expecting another free ride in a pilot car, we had no such luck. It was a slow crawl up to the pass and a scary descent. By the end of my slow ride down, my hands were aching from pressing firmly on the brakes for 30 minutes or so. I looked back and saw that I had left Aaron and Saz behind and it was the last I saw of them.

I never saw Chris and Chris either... I'm assuming I passed them somewhere in the park. I had to pay twelve dollars just to ride through. The Yellowstone National Park represents the best and worst things about National Parks. For one, they have great preservation efforts and have great hiking trails. However, they also carve roads through a pristine area and allow for RVs and SUVs to drive through at all times. I think I saw one "fuel-efficient" vehicle in about 100 gas guzzling beasts. I actually saw one RV hauling a Hummer behind it. I'm glad my friend Matthew Reginald LeBlanc wasn't there to witness this, otherwise I'm sure he would've caused a scene. The first part of my trip was plagued by these large vehicles careening by me at high speeds. There were no shoulders for most of the ride through the park and really kept my eyes turned away from the scenery and focused on not getting hit by tourists.

I had to keep good pace through the park, in spite of the heavy climbing. I crossed the Continental Divide three times in just under an hour, and still had time to wait for Old Faithful to blow. Along the way, I met another rider named Mike. He's riding with two other guys from Texas and I'll probably see them along the way tomorrow.

Leaving Old Faithful, I had an impressive tailwind that made me average about 27mph, even going uphill. However, my luck changed and it quickly turned into a crosswind, then a headwind. I started feeling the miles and contemplated camping in Madison, but snacked some more and rode towards the Montana border.

The last 20 miles were rather difficult, as I rode along Madison River I was hit with headwinds that would really kill any momentum I tried to build up. On the bright side, these winds slowed me down enough to enjoy the views and witness some wildlife. I saw buffalo, elk... but no bears. I was hoping to see a Grizzly from afar, but no such luck! I've heard from some locals from Montana/Oregon and they informed me that I still can see Grizzlies outside of the park.

I came across the very humble Montana state sign and rode into West Yellowstone. Not feeling like riding through town to find a campsite, I spoiled myself and found a motel room. I spent the rest of the night trying to update the backlog of blog posts I had, in spite of spotty WiFi. Not wanting to leave the comforts of the room, I also ordered a pizza and ate it in bed. It was a hard day of riding, but I feel like ending the day with a little luxury is more than welcome. Now I'm in Montana, and I'm going to sleep thinking of Montaña.

Day 44: DuNoir Creek, WY to Colter Bay, WY (61.5 Miles)

2009-08-14T22:25:00.020-04:00

Back home, waking up at 7:00AM feels very early. On the road, I felt guilty for sleeping in so late. According to Aaron and Saz, there was a meteor shower last night. They were hanging out with a moose and saw a few fall from the sky. It's a shame I missed this. In any case, we got moving and helped with breakfast. I didn't eat too much, learning well from last night's mistake. We then packed up, posed for pictures, and hit the road. I left a few minutes before the others and kept a good lead during the climb up to Togwotee Pass, the second highest pass of the Trans-Am (9,658 ft). The ride up to the pass was pretty gradual and my legs were feeling great. I stopped for some chocolate milk in a general store about 10 miles before the pass and the counter had a bumper sticker saying: "What's the similarity between Obama and God? They both weren't born in the United States. The difference? God doesn't think he's Obama." Oh, you silly red states.

Much like a previous red state (Kentucky), my opinion of the state greatly improves as you move further West (or in this case, Northwest). The scenery has drastically improved and the people's demeanor has changed for the most part, but then again.. it seems everyone near the Teton and Yellowstone Parks are from other states/countries. Towards the top of the pass, I found signs warning me of construction and telling me "Be Prepared To Stop." I was fine with stopping after climbing for the last hour. Luckily for Eastbounders, there's road construction on the Western side of the mountain and require you to throw your bike into a pilot car (or in this case, truck) and ride for a few miles. Unfortunately for me, I had to forgo the thrill/satisfaction of riding down the mountain I just climbed. Instead, I had to hold on for dear life and bounce around with my bike on bumpy dirt roads.

I was hoping I'd run into Chris & Chris on the top, but I never did. I headed down the rest of the mountain towards Moran Junction and found an impressive first view of the Grand Tetons. Accompanying this view, was an incredible headwind that would bring my fast descent to complete stops. I used these breaks in momentum as opportunities to snap photos. And snap photos I did! I'm apologizing right now for the overt amount of photographs I've taken today and will, most likely, tomorrow. I'm just afraid that these beautiful scenes of majestic nature will coax you to promptly leave your jobs/families and head west in a personal manifest destiny. Actually, who am I kidding? I want you to do just that!

I met Chris and Chris at a diner and we tried to stomach more food. I couldn't finish the fries I was eating and donated it to my friends. Fighting the wind again, we took into the valley and headed into the Grand Teton National Park. The Grand Tetons, when translated from French, virtually means "Big Breasts." Either the French were as immature as those who changed the rocks to "Fart Washakie," or they really thought it was a fitting name. I don't know.. all I know is that I was witnessing the most majestic/impressive mountains I've seen in my life (yes, they ousted the French Alps).

In the park, we found a campsite near Colter Bay. In spite of the extortionist price of 12 dollars per cyclist, we got a site and read up on the "Be Bear Aware" pamphlet the park ranger gave us. They have bear boxes for each site, where you place all your belongings that may attract a hungy grizzly or curious black bear. Unfortunately, the site they assigned to us had no such box! Therefore, we had to utilize a nearby site. The funny thing is, there were no other occupants all around us in the hiker/biker site, with the exception of a few curious deer. Christopher and I gathered sticks for firewood and pitched our tents. We later met Aaron and Saz and left to check out the local scene.

We hung out in the bay for a bit and took a few photos. Feeling the hunger pang, we headed to a somewhat poshy restaurant with horrible service. Aaron and I ordered eggplant pasta dishes with garlic bread, but our bread came in the form of two little stubs that resembled croutons. The waitress was somewhat sympathetic and helped us get a proper meal. With full stomachs, we hung out and chatted for about an hour. Finally, we setted back to the campsite and roasted some marshmellows.

It felt like a good night to end my ride with these guys. I'm heading all the way through the Yellowstone and into Montana tomorrow, while the rest of the guys are going to spend the next three days in the park. Chris and Aaron are going backcountry hiking/camping and the girls are going to relax with spa-like luxuries. I wish I had the time to stop and truly enjoy the scenery; however, I've made a plan and I've got to stick to it. Good night, and don't let the bears bite!

Day 43: Lander, WY to DuNoir Creek, WY (88 Miles)

2009-08-12T23:10:00.022-04:00

The small village of tents had grown even larger after I fell asleep. Amongst these new tents were three very familiar ones. I concluded that they probably concealed three tired Brits. After brushing my teeth, I walked over to their tents and put on an official voice and said, "Excuse me... this is Lander police, we've had reports of non-US residents camping on the grounds. Please come out from your tents with identification." I then found Dowds and Chris looking rather confused. We had a good laugh and apparently they had partied with the "artist" in Jeffrey City and then decided to ride all the way to Lander for the night. They got into the park well past their bedtime. Dangerous? Yes... nevertheless, it was good to see the lads one more time.

We also spent a bit of the morning with another Brit, Matt. We chatted for a bit and planned on meeting up again later in the day. Aaron and Saz were slowly waking up, but we also planned on ending the day in the same place, so we said our temporary goodbye's. We left Lander behind us and rode into Fort Washakie, a reservation town. We grabbed some chocolate milk and donuts. As we left the town, we also noticed that someone changed the rocks in the formation spelling "Fort Washakie" and changed it to "Fart Washakie." Immature? Yes. Funny? Yes.

The morning ride was nearly perfect. There was hardly any wind and the temperature was simply serene. Sure, we were still running over thousands of grasshoppers.. but we felt good. When we stopped in Crowheart for the essentials from the local store... Gatorade, candy bars, hunting rifles, horse saddles... (you name it, they've got it), I commented to Christopher: "It's amazing, this is the first day without wind in Wyoming!" I should have bit my tongue.

Within a few miles of Crowheart, we began to encounter a fierce headwind. The wind was so strong, that we struggled to bike down a hill leading into a river basin. Now, I should have seen this coming... especially considering the river is called "Wind River." We later found that this stretch towards Dubois is notorious amongst Westbounders and have left grown men crying. I could only laugh. We made very slow time, but finally made it into Dubois and met Matt for an early dinner.

We debated riding 10 miles out of town, but hearing that the KOA charged $27.00 for a campsite sealed the deal that we would be moving on. After stomaching more greasy, nasty diner food... we kept riding against the wind... and wind it was. I was getting more confident in my strength/stamina; however, this wind made me feel weak and incompetent. Anyways, we finally arrived at a dirt road leading to a house owned by Dave and JoAnn. A lovely old couple, they offer "hostel" services to bikers on the Trans-Am and the Great Divide Trail. As we began to turn, we noticed Aaron catching up to us. We asked where Saz was and Aaron informed us that she hit a wall... the wind and heat was too much for her. I could relate. She got a ride to the hostel and was already waiting for us. After a short ride up a dirt road, we were home for the night.

Dave, JoAnne, Wrigley (their dog), and Saz were waiting for us and kindly showed us our sleeping quarters. Aaron and Saz were sleeping the log cabin, while the Chrisses and I were bunking on cots in their garage. We were then informed to be careful, because two moose were around the back of the house. We then flocked around to the back porch to get a look. Christopher was glad to have finally seen a moose, and now they "officially exist." We washed up and used their outhouse, while JoAnne prepared a wonderful pasta dinner.

It was a great dinner... but, I ate way too much. I didn't think this would be possible on this trip, but the second helping finally put me over. Not wanting to think about food, the rest seemed excited about the prospect of sleeping in and having breakfast at 8:00AM. I was more focused on keeping my stomach from imploding... I'll just have to be careful not to bump into a moose when stumbling through the dark in search of the outhouse.

Day 42: Jeffrey City, WY to Lander, WY (58.5 Miles)

2009-08-11T22:09:00.016-04:00

Waking up in the creepy motel, I decided I wanted to leave Jeffrey City ASAP. I took off by 7:00AM and found that Chris & Chris had already broken camp and left before me. I'm assuming they had a very interesting night and came to the same conclusion this morning. I rode by Aaron and Shaz's tent and headed West. The morning was crisp and chill, therefore I had to layer it up. I found the Chrisses at small rest stop near "Sweetwater Station." There were no restaurants all morning, so we just snacked as we rode...

The highlight of the morning came in the form of long 6% grade descent down into a beautiful valley. We rode down to find a Biblical amount of grasshoppers lying on the shoulder. Like a wave of green, they would try to avoid our bikes; however, we must have run over thousands of those little buggers. Lady Chris isn't the biggest fan of these little creatures and would get pretty annoyed if any bugs tried hitchhiking on her bike/trailer. I would often hear her beckoning to Christopher, "Get it off!!!"

Christopher was fiending for coffee, so we tried to stop at a small diner near the Little Popo Agie River. It turned out the restaurant was closed for renovations, but the lady let us sit in the shade and use their bathrooms. We talked with her for a bit and she explained that her daughter and son-in-law had purchased old buildings from a ghost town and renovated them into cabins. Sadly, it didn't look like it was the most successful business endeavor... mainly because it was smack-dab in the middle of nowhere! As Chris and Chris looked over the maps, I played with the local dogs, including a precocious little three-legged Chihuahua.

Snacking again, we made the short ride into Lander by noon. It felt great to get all my riding in within the morning. In addition, this place turned out to be the nicest town I've found in Wyoming. It's described as an "outdoorsy" type of place, and I could really tell by the quality of the city park. They allow for overnight camping and it was by far the nicest place I've pitched a tent in, and this includes all those 10-20 dollar campsites! We found a bike shop and I purchased some long trousers to keep me warm at night and for future use when riding in the cold Boston winter. Christopher bought some warm gloves and we rode down to the camping store so that Chris could find a better portable pillow. We grabbed some lunch and then split up to run some errands.

I spent some time updating blog posts in the fantastic town library. Aaron and Saz made it into town and also came to library to update their blog. We then talked about how it takes as much effort to keep a blog going then it is to keep biking. After sitting for hours infront of a computer, I felt really irritable and needed to relax. So I headed to a nice little pub/restaurant with the Chrisses and took in some more biking fuel. There were so many attractive young people all around and it really felt like I was back home. Sadly, we had to leave this place in the morning and so we headed back to our tents.

When we arrived back to our tents, we found a new community of tents that popped up within a few hours. Hiding in one of these tents was Matt, a Manchester fellow that rode along with the Chrisses through Kansas. We also saw the Bernstein siblings, who had to share a small tent because Saz somehow lost her tent poles! There was a softball game at play in the adjacent field, but it ended early and now it's time for sleep. Let's see if these new warm-pants do what they're advertised to do!

Day 41: Saratoga, WY to Jeffrey City, WY (110 Miles)

2009-08-10T21:44:00.022-04:00

I woke up this morning with a cloud of ambiguity hanging over my head. Normally, I'd have a plan devised for rest stops and final destinations. Conversely, I had no plan for today and decided I would just ride until I got tired. I got out of the room by 7:30 and rode North towards US Interstate 80. I actually had a slight tailwind during the first 20 miles or so; however, it was so subtle (10mph) that it did not affect me as much as I would like... yet it still felt very nice. I kept looking back to see if the lads were following me, but I did not see them at all today...

I arrived to Walcott, a town of 30 people, and purchased some chocolate milk and other snacks for the road. I rode onto Interstate 80 to find a decent shoulder. But within miles, the shoulder began to disappear due to road work taking place. The road turned into a nasty grooved pavement and soon became unbearable to ride on. I also noticed that the directional cones were getting uncomfortably close to the shoulder, making it virtually non-existent. I saw an opportunity to dart across the lane and ask a road maintenance worker what to do and he recommended walking over to the Eastbound double lane highway and ride on the freshly paved, blocked off lane. I did this and it saved me a lot of time and effort and, quite possibly, my life.

After receiving awkward “Umm, are you sure you're supposed to be riding there, buddy?”-type looks from oncoming traffic, I sprinted across the highway again to get off at Sinclair, an armpit of an industrial town. I stopped in at a highway diner and ate a late breakfast. The waitress was very nice and talkative, and was almost taken back with my “polite” disposition. Apparently, the people of Wyoming are not very cordial or friendly, at least this is coming from the nice waitress lady. Yesterday's interaction with the disgruntled pickup truck driver can only support her hypothesis.

I waited around a little bit with the expectation to see three smelly Brits pull into the parking lot, but this never came to fruition. Therefore, I set off again and rode toward Rawlins. The wind, of course, was daunting and kept fighting me the entire time. I entered town a little before noon and looked for the nearest bike shop. I received directions from a few locals, but I couldn't find the place. I even tried calling and the phone kept ringing. Realizing I'd have to true my tires myself within a few days, I decided to save the cash/headache and ride on to Lamont for a late lunch.

When I arrived into Lamont, I found absolutely nothing... just abandoned buildings and tumbleweed. Realizing I'd just have to snack it for the rest of the day, I chowed down on some granola and beef jerky as I rode against the wind. I eventually came to a small shop at the “Muddy Gap Junction.” I bought some water, Gatorade, and a snack. I then sat down in the shade and was greeted by a man falling out of his van. His name was Kieth. He's originally from Florida, but, unlike most retired people, he left Florida in favor of exploration and adventure. He first bought a sailboat and sailed around the Gulf of Mexico. After getting bored of that, Kieth bought a van and hit the road with his old dog (“The only thing my wife left me!”). We chatted a bit about politics and how Kieth thinks we're all turning into crazy Pinko's.. thus, I decided to leave, knowing full well that I didn't have the energy/patience to engage in a serious conversation about politics.

Looking at the map, then the sun, then the map... I realized my final destination of the day would be Jeffrey City. Now, let me preface my description of this town with a few stories. I read once that a rider saw a drugged out individual set his roof on fire. I also heard from a nice couple that they saw a bloody bar fight in the local saloon. I also read that there's only 100 people living there now, when it once was a booming uranium mining town. There were a lot more cautionary tales of this town, but I'll just tell my anecdotal account: When I pulled into this “town,” or a series of unkempt buildings, I first noticed the motel. Thinking it to be abandoned, I biked up to a man. It turns out he's the owner... and he's got the mouth of a sailor. He said he might have one “clean F'ing room, but they might've not have F'ing cleaned it.” We found that this room wasn't cleaned, but only one bed had been slept in and one towel had been used. He offered the room to me for 20 bucks, “take it or F'ing leave it!”.. and I reluctantly obliged.

I wish I hadn't though, because the room is barely worth five dollars and then I later found Chris and Chris at the local bar/diner. There were chatting with two other Westbounders, a brother and sister from New York.. I believe their names were Aaron and "Shaz." They're going to camp outside some local “artist” workshop, where the “artist” said they could light a fire and get “mad high, man and do some things, ya know?” I'm beginning to think this is the guy who set his own roof on fire... Come to think of it, it was exactly then when I noticed that the town's inhabitants looked oddly familiar and then I realized they reminded me of Tom Hank's neighbors in the classic 1989 horror/comedy entitled "The 'Burbs." -Quite fitting, really.

I sat down to chat with them and I asked the lady at the bar if they served food. She moaned... waited a minute and said “it's kind of late.” I looked at the clock and said, “Oh, it's only seven o'clock.” She then let out a large sigh and said “Ok.. all we got is burgers, you want one?” I nodded and proceeded to chat more with my fellow riders. I was then treated with the worst meal of my trip, but I didn't mind. I might be in the middle of the craziest town of America... but these fellow riders are sure to keep me sane. Good night and, please oh please, "don't let the bed bugs bite!”

Day 40: Walden, CO to Saratoga, WY (68 Miles)

2009-08-09T22:02:00.001-04:00

This is not Henry David Thoreau's Walden. It's quite the unnatural human construct... a blip of civilization appearing in the midst of barren wilderness. I didn't hear any coyotes or wolves singing their primal howls, but I did have the privilege of listening to a small dog bark throughout the night. Feeling groggy, I coaxed the lads to wake up and get moving. We decided we needed breakfast in town, due to little-to-no services for the next 50 miles or so. We ate some more diner eggs and toast. I'm actually getting tired of eating. I can barely stomach diner food anymore and I long for the day I can return to my strict diet of spinach wraps and burritos...

We made it to the Wyoming border without viewing one moose, in spite of what many Eastbounders informed us. The only moose I glimpsed was the large plastic monstrosity hanging out on Main Street in Walden. Dowds won the sprint to the border, continuing his perfect record. We met Chris & Chris there and they took a few photos of us and took off. The moment we rode into Wyoming, a horribly strong headwind kicked in full force. The sign in the photo should say "Welcome to Windy Wyoming." I've heard stories about Wyoming's winds and for just reasons. It actually took a lot of effort to ride downhill. As I was riding into Riverside for lunch, I was honked at by a fat man in a red pickup truck. He then sheepishly flipped me the middle finger. "Welcome to Windy, Unfriendly Wyoming."

With powerful winds fighting us all day, we chain-ganged it for another 30 miles and called it quits in the town of Saratoga. Where, unlike the resort-like Hot Sulphur Springs, had a natural and FREE hot spring. It flowed into a nearby river and mixed well for comfortable soaking. We relaxed there for a bit and said our goodbyes to the Chrisses, who were riding an extra 30 miles out of town. We later rode around and found a laundromat. No longer smelling like wet dogs, we found a place for dinner. Callum got another flat and he fixed it while we were enjoying ice cream at a small shop. The shop was run by a sweet Italian lady and I shared with her my stories from my summer semester in Rome. She was very nice and enjoyable to chat with.

Still feeling tired from a night of non-sleep, I decided to leave the shop early and set up my tent near the river. I stopped at convenient store and began chatting with a girl sitting outside and smoking a cigarrete. I told her what I was doing (riding my bike a lot) and she told me she's the daughter of the motel owner across the street. She then told me she could get me a "sick deal" and I followed along with her. In spite of her nasty smoking habits, she was pretty cute... so I kept tagging along. Before I knew it, I was in a room and calling the guys to tell them of my good luck. Sadly, the room was too small for a sneak in and I told them I'd see them tomorrow. I'm sure they won't mind, especially considering that they're camping outside a beautiful, natural hot spring.

Day 39: Hot Sulphur Springs, CO to Walden, CO (62 Miles)

2009-08-08T22:57:00.022-04:00

It got cold last night... very, very cold. I woke up often to find myself shaking and my visible breath denoted that I needed warmer sleeping gear. I had exchanged my Kelty 20 degree down "mummy" bag for Jonathan's lighter bag in favor of weight, but I had no clue it would get into the 30's anywhere in August. Feeling industrious, I quickly ran out to grab more clothes from my front pannier and fashioned makeshift trousers using extra underwear, shirts, and socks. This kept me warm enough to sleep through the morning. The lads needed to wait for 9:00AM, so that Callum could recieve a package containing his entire identity (that he somehow left back before Guffey) and I was glad to sleep in as well, especially considering how inconsistent my sleep was during the cold night...

We broke camp a little before 9:00AM and rode down the dirt path to find the local post office. Much to Callum's disappointment, the package had not arrived. I left them to figure out what to do and headed back to last night's diner for breakfast. I scarfed down some french toast and eggs and went to pay for my breakfast, hoping to get an early start before the guys. However, my card had apparently been blocked and was not working. Thinking it to be a simple glitch, I paid in cash and rode down to the next gas station to try out my card there. After attempting to buy some water and a Payday, my card was still getting rejected. Next, I tried the ATM... rejected! I then spent a good half hour on the gas station lady's phone with Bank of America, trying to figure out the problem. They said it should work and I hung up to promptly find my card still rejected. Realizing this was too much of a headache to deal with before a day's ride, I called Sands (aka "The Best Damn Dad on the Planet!") and informed him of my situation. He said he would call them back and try to fix the problem... a big problem, considering I only had about 20 dollars in cash and I couldn't access any money from my account. I didn't have cellphone reception anywhere in the mountains, so I decided I would try my card at the next store I could find...

Setting off, I began my long ascent up to Willow Creek Pass. As I was huffing and puffing up the mountain, I bumped into Rob, a weekend rider from Denver. Rob shared with me information about sites to see in Wyoming and Montana and let me draft off him as well. With well wishes, he then pressed on ahead of me towards the summit and I lost sight of him within moments.

The climb up to the pass felt great. I could definitely feel my muscles have gotten stronger and my stamina has increased dramatically. Thinking I would wait on top of the pass for the lads, I started to hear some panting/grunting coming from behind me. I looked back to find Callum pressing upward with great ferocity, then followed by Chris. We met Dowds at the top and posed for a few pictures. There wasn't a great view from the top, but the promise of a thrilling 14 mile downhill ride into Rand was pleasant enough for us.

After eating some snacks, we grabbed our cameras and began videotaping our descent. It's thrilling to ride down a mountain at 38mph, let alone with a camera in your hand. We stopped temporarily to meet a nice Dutch couple and they warned us with stories of Grizzlies in the Yellow Stone / Grand Teton area. This scared Callum a bit, considering he's mortified of crickets, let alone bears. Mountains temporarily defeated and footage taken, we were then greeted by an incredible crosswind that nearly blew me off my bike. There were signs saying "Warning: Powerful Wind Gusts Next 20 Miles".. and they weren't kidding. As we rode on past the Arapaho National Wildlife Refuge, we saw a large herd of buffalo grazing in a field. It was my first time seeing these large, impressive creatures.

We eventually called it a day in Walden, a non-descript "last stop" town before entering into Wyoming. After finding my card still not working, I finally got cell phone service and talked with another Bank of America lady for a good half hour. It turned out some "glitch" had removed my checking account from my card access and with a few clicks of a keyboard computer, it was fixed. With a slide of plastic and the printing of a receipt, I was no longer broke. I met the guys in the local park, but I was warned that it was going to be another cold night and that the park sprinklers go off at 3:00AM. Deciding it would be better to share a motel, we set off and found the cheapest of the lot. We ended the night with a big meal and journaling in the room. We've got another 50 mile stretch of nothing tomorrow morning, so I think we're going to catch breakfast again in town. Well, it's getting late and Chris wants to upload some funny video. G'night.

Day 38: Frisco, CO to Hot Sulphur Springs, CO (63.5 Miles)

2009-08-07T22:23:00.003-04:00

I started late again today. I was on the road by 8:30 or as the Brits would say "half eight." The morning held the most delightful riding experience of my journey thus far. I rejoined the bike path and headed North towards Silverthorne and was treated with spectacular views complimented by beautiful weather. The path was a little confusing to follow and the Adventure Cycling maps do a semi-adequate job of explaining where to go. Luckily, I ran into some locals that knew the path very well and they set me off on the right direction. Much like the previous day, everyone on the path were smiling and very hospitable.

After a thrilling switchback climb down from the Dillon Reservoir, I found myself again in another bustling mountain town. I was a little turned around and finally discovered that the busy intersection around the gas stations was in fact route 9, the route I needed to follow. After grabbing a quick "brekkie," I began an effortless descent down the road next to the majestic and flowing Blue River. You know that you're in for an enjoyable ride when the adjacent river flows in the direction you're heading. As I was gaining momentum down the gradually declining hill, I came across this sign...

Apparently, a semi-truck had a nasty accident and they cleared off route 9; however, this turned out to be a mixed blessing for numerous reasons. For one, I was actually sent in the right direction according to my maps (that I would've easily overlooked) and made me follow Route 30 towards Heeney and the Green Mountain Dam. This was very scenic, albeit hilly, and was quite busy due to the detour. The downside to this path was that, somehow, I received my second puncture of the trip...

After crossing the dam, I noticed I began to feel a bouncing sensation coming from my rear tire. I reluctantly stopped and checked the tire and found it to be losing pressure rather quickly. I pulled over to a dirt path and began weighing my options. The past attempt at replacing the rear inner tube led to much cursing and head aches outside of Hutchinson, KS. I looked ahead on the map and found that there was another bike shop in Kremmling, about 12 miles out from where I was. I decided to pump up the tire and ride it as far as I could.

It only took a couple of pump breaks to make it into town. It was there where I found a nice little shop, run by a really personable owner and his dog, Bopper. (See Photos Below). In place of pain and effort, I just relaxed with a fun little pup and let the owner of the shop have the privelage of replacing the tube. Even he, the expert, took about 20 minutes to properly replace the stubborn thing and then he asked for 5 dollars. It was the best 5 bucks I've ever spent.

After having lunch in Kremmling, I only had 17 miles to get to my final destination. It went quicker than expected due to a pleasant tail wind (the irony of this is that I was heading East towards Hot Sulphur Springs). I've heard stories noting that heading West would not necessarily put me into the wind, but I'd beg to differ! In any case, I traversed a gorgeous canyon that led into town. I arrived shortly after lunch and had a lot of time to spend. I pitched my tent off a dirt road about a half mile towards the river and rode around the town looking for water. According to the locals, the water source has been contaminated, therefore water is sold by the gallon at most shops. I bought some water, checked some emails, played with some dogs, and caught an early dinner.

As I was enjoying my taco salad, Chris and Chris knocked on the window next to my table. It was great to see them, which I hadn't since Carbondale, IL. We chatted and hung outside a local shop and shared some stories and drinks. It was then when Callum, Chris, and Dowds showed up in all their smelly glory. It felt like a reunion. We hung out for a bit and I followed them to another diner for some free water and conversation. I took off early to leave them with their food and headed over to the "Hot Sulphur Springs," a series of pools the town was virtually built around. The natural springs heat up pools of water (that smell of rotten eggs) and are very therapeutic.. the springs were originally utilized for medicinal purposes. I soaked in these hot springs and were later joined by the lads. It was nice; however, the springs were less "natural" than I expected and there were a lot of annoying elderly couples commenting on how "faaaabulous" one spa was in comparison to another... but it was well worth the 11 dollars I'd spent. Chris and Chris opted for an early night and I hope to meet up with them in the next town on the map.

Feeling refreshed, I utilized my headlamp and rode back to my tent. The guys later joined me and set up their tents in very close proximity to mine. Apparently, setting up a tent in the dark is not the best idea due to Callum's bemoaning the slant of rocks and twigs he was trying to lay on. It's going to be a cold night and I don't have any trousers/slacks. I've heard people saying it will get into the 30's and I'm hoping that my non-3-seasons tent will hold in some warmth through the night. I can't believe it's August!

Day 37: Guffey, CO to Frisco, CO (76.5 Miles)

2009-08-06T22:12:00.007-04:00

Waking up in Guffey is like waking up after a long night of drinking. Now, I'm not an advocate for alcoholic binges; conversely, I'm an advocate against such self-destructive behavior. But the disorientation of waking up in a creaky cabin, using an outhouse, and passing small cabins filled with all sorts of rarities can only resemble the feeling of waking up after your own bachelor party. With that said, sleeping next to a stuttering Scotsman can only make for a more interesting morning...

To make things even more disorienting, it was cold... very cold. I wasn't used to riding in 40 degree temperature, thus my fragile skin needed extra layers of clothing protection. Feeling somewhat chipper after a restful spell, I rode back onto the route and headed North towards Hartsel. The majority of the morning was filled with panoramic views of mountains. I didn't realize it, but I was slowly climbing up a high valley that would culminate with the climb over Hoosier Pass. With the exception of a few steep inclines, the morning went along at an easy pace. I stopped in at a local diner for breakfast in Hartsel and struck up some conversations with the locals. A biker (of the motor variety) came in and asked if the bar was open... it was 10:00 in the morning. After eating a very filling mushroom omelet, I set onward into the wind to Fairplay.

Along the way, I saw majestic views and wildlife that one could expect to see watching BBC's "Planet Earth." I saw elk running in packs and a distant brown animal wading through a river, which I suspect was a bear... or a very fat beaver. Riding along a ridge line, I could see the far off town of Fairplay. Within an hour, I arrived into town and found a very hippy-esque Cafe/Deli run by an all-early-40's-female staff. I ordered a delicious panini and an iced mocha. An older man saw my bike and talked me up for a good hour about his "hay-days" in cycling and warned me about riders passing out when climbing up Hoosier Pass. The mountain pass, at an elevation of 11,542 feet, is the highest point on the Trans-Am. At that elevation, the air is very thin and an non-acclimated rider could very well get horrible migraines, shortness of breath, or... just pass the hell out. I didn't mind the man sharing his stories... I wanted to rest a bit before attempting this ascent.

After the old man left, I checked some emails and then headed towards the base of the pass, Alma. A thin, bumpy bike path led the way between the two towns. The elevation chart shows a decent climb up to Alma from Fairplay, but it either felt flat or downhill to me... because I made it there very quickly. Not stopping in Alma, I pressed on to find the sign noting "4 Miles To Hoosier Pass." This marked the beginning of my climb. Now, just like in the movies, a horrific thunder storm came rolling as I rode up the mountain. What started as a sprinkle and distant thunder, soon grew into a rain that flew in from my side and visible lightening strikes... too close for comfort. The rain cooled me down, but almost too much. At this elevation, it was an uncomfortable 50 degrees. When wet, I really began to feel the chill of air around me. As time grew on, I felt the rain starting to dissipate and the clouds began to thin. And, again, just like in the movies... the sky opened when I reached the summit.

When I reached the top, I quickly changed out of my wet clothes and into some warmer gear. I found the sign that signified my accomplishment and waited for a nice family to take some pictures. The father offered to take my photo and I told them about my trip. They were very nice and talkative. Apparently, they were on vacation from Wales and wanted to see the majestic Rockies. Hoosier Pass was a good vantage point for such views. Albeit windy and cold, it was a very wonderful place to be. This space marked the highest point in my journey and also promised a good continous 60 miles of downhill grades. The most aggressive of the descents was right infront of me. After taking more photos and enjoying the view, I headed down a series of switchbacks that would lead me into Breckenridge.

The ride down was less enjoyable due to the slick roads due to the recent downpour. My hands held firmly onto the brakes, so much so that they began to ache with each passing switchback. Nevertheless, I made into the ski resort town of Breckinridge within 30 minutes. It felt like a good stopping point for the day, but the hotels were too expensive for my liking. So I called ahead to the town of Frisco and asked around for rates. The "Snow Shoe Motel" had rates more to my liking, so I pushed on to the next town.

Also to my liking, the areas between Breckenridge and Silverthorne are connected with a series of bike/recreational pathways. I found these to be the most maintained and enjoyable paths I've ever had the pleasure to ride. I rode at a good pace and slowed down to smile and greet local riders. Everyone on the path had a huge smile and were either commuting back from work or just enjoying an afternoon's ride. It was a lovely experience and I'm sad that only the richer tourist-driven towns can afford such "luxuries."

From time to time, the path would break away into the woods and one led into the town of Frisco. There I asked directions to the motel and found it conveniently located on Main Street. I walked into the lobby, looking like dirt, and the man said he could only get me a 2nd floor room. Also, the rate was 10 dollars more than the other guy told me on the phone. Knowing it would be fruitless to argue, I paid up and grunted my way up the steps with a 125 pound bike on my shoulder. I subsquently took a long, hot bath and made a few phone calls informing relatives and friends of my living status. Afterwards, I headed down the street to find a place to eat.

The first restaurant I walked into was too posh for my taste. In fact, the hostess seemed to ignore me and gave me a look saying: "Really? You're going to walk into here, looking like that???" I asked to look at the menu, instantly saw some egregiously high prices and handed it back over with a smile and left. I found a more moderately priced place and sat down to speak with a very flirtatious waitress. She recommended a pasta dish with both Marinara and Alfredo sauces... which sounded perfect after a long day of riding. I sat on the patio overlooking a nearby mountain, enjoying a wonderful dinner. It was the perfect ending to an arduous day of riding.

Day 36: Pueblo, CO to Guffey, CO (89.5 Miles)

2009-08-05T22:07:00.020-04:00

It feels strange falling asleep in the same place twice, but it was a comfortable sleep nonetheless. Much like the prior morning, I was greeted with another large breakfast. As I dug into the waffles and eggs, a groggy Nate came down to join me for breakfast. This was an unusual time for Nathan to be awake and moving, but he got up so that he could drive me back down to Pueblo. I said my goodbyes to the family and, most importantly, the dogs. I was sent off with a "crowd wave" by Greg and Leslie... it was invigorating. As we drove south, Nate and I jammed to some Yes and folk music. During the ride back to the Trans-Am, I must admit that I didn't want to get back on the road. I had enjoyed the comforts of a home, so much so that it actually made me long for the end of this journey. This feeling was diminished almost immediately after I gave Nate a hug and rode towards the beautiful Rockies.

The morning was spent in pure, unadulterated heat. Pueblo was having "near-record highs" and I was feeling the heat, even in the early hours. I went through my water very fast and was in dire need of more H2O. I stopped into Wetmore, and not befitting to it's name, had no place open and no dripping faucet in view. I stopped at a local diner and as I was checking the store hours (which said: "We open around noon, and we close later") and a piece of wood fell from the awning about two feet away from me. I snuck around a back alley to find the town library. It was closed, but I snuck into a side door and found a conference room with jugs of water near a coffee maker. I helped myself to this would-be-bad-coffee-water and hit the road again.

I spent the majority of my day looking behind my back and expecting to see the "lads on tour," but I never did. I rode into Florence, an area lousy with prisons and correctional facilities and got myself a cheap lunch. The heat was borderline unbearable, but I kept pushing on. The worst part of today came in the form of US Highway 50. It was a slow, hot crawl upward and my lungs were filled the exhaust of the numerous RV's flying by me at high speeds. I later found that US 50 feeds to the Holy Mecca of plastic camping. Yogi Bear's "Jellystone National Park" looked like a Disney Land camp site for fat tourists with Hawaiian shirts. "Hey kids, want to go camping?" "No? They've got mini-golf and astro-bowling!" Feel allergic to Hummers and funnel cakes, I decided to keep on riding into the mountains. I did a lot of climbing today.... more than a vertical mile, to be exact. Thankfully, the grades are more gradual than the Appalachians, but the ascents are still very challenging.

I set my eyes toward the town of Guffey, where I've heard they had elected a cat as the town mayor. It was getting late and the sky was growing dark due to afternoon storm clouds. Thunder ricocheted amongst the mountains around me and I knew I had to maintain a quick pace to get into town before dark. During one brief downhill section, I saw a deer running at full speed clear two barb-wire fences and dart across the road in front of me... it had to be going at least 30 miles per hour... impressive, to say the least. Anyways, I pulled into Guffey around 6:30PM and was instantly taken with it's unique charm.

Guffey is the home of about 30 people, but attracts many lost tourists who were looking for astro-bowling. I asked around for a place to camp and I was told to visit Bill, a local shop and hostel owner. Bill turned out to be the nicest person in the world. He set me up with a bunk in a small cabin, fully equipped with an outhouse. After hanging with Bill for a while and sharing stories, I walked down to the restaurant to catch some grub before they closed. There I met Iain, a self-proclaimed Scottish "Fat Man on a Trans-Am." Iain started his trip in Washington and will be finishing in Boston in September. A good place to end, if you asked me!

I'm going to bed early because today was exceptionally exhausting. I will also need to have the energy to climb Hoosier Pass, the highest point on the Trans-Am. Maybe the Brits will catch up with me tomorrow? In any case, I really enjoyed riding alone and seeing fields full of grazing alpacas and the mountains... oh, the mountains. Did I mention how gorgeous they are? I'll save you the inevitable hyperbole and just go to bed with this following quote by Ansel Adams:

“No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied - it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.”

Day 35: Family Day in Colorado Springs, CO (0 Miles)

2009-08-04T22:56:00.014-04:00

Good morning, Colorado Springs! After sleeping in the most comfortable bed in recent memory, I was greeted with a wondrous breakfast, courtesy of Aunt Leslie. After stuffing my face and taking in their morning view from their back porch, we packed up the car with the dogs and headed to park. Geronimo and Buttercup are adorable, fun-loving dogs. They thoroughly enjoyed swimming and chasing sticks. It made me feel like Clementine is only partially dog. Sure, she hunts squirrels and stuff... but her phobia of water and other dog-like activities leaves me feeling slightly inadequate as a dog owner.

Leslie and I hiked around the park and talked a bunch. It was great getting to know family more and this instance really helped me appreciate my aunt all the more. After the dogs began to dry, we drove into town to find the nearest bike shop. At the shop, we heard news about a bear running wild through the adjacent building complex. Sadly, I wasn't able to witness this chaos; however, I was pleased to only pay 40 bucks for peace of mind. The "cranking" sound I was hearing was my bottom bracket coming loose. The technician also overhauled my front wheel hub and now the Volpe rides like a dream.

Afterwards, we ran over to an apparently bear-free grocery store and Leslie, the sly, swiped her card like a ninja and paid for my hygienic products! This was one of many examples of how much I was spoiled today. I felt like I was taken away from boot camp and thrown into a luxurious spa. For that, I can only thank the Ralphe family for their hospitality and loving kinship!

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading excerpts of books and admiring their bookshelf. A typical thunder storm rolled through and I found Geronimo hiding in the shower (apparently, he does this often). Greg came home from work and looked over the maps with me. He's the go-to-guy for everything Colorado. He filled me in on what kind of weather, topography... (you name it) I'd be facing. Nate then drove down from Boulder and we had a fantastic burrito dinner followed by ice cream! Stuffed bellies, we lounged around with the dogs and I headed to bed early. I really enjoyed my short time Colorado Springs. The weather was fantastic and the views were outstanding. It was certainly my best "rest day" of the journey. Thank you Leslie, Greg, Amelia, and Nate for taking in a smelly, unshaven drifter and making him feel at home. I love you guys!

Not to bring down the mood, but I was checking my emails before falling asleep and I just received this email from Vicki Rush, coordinator of Montaña de Luz and all-around-awesome-lady:

"Dear Friends,

The current political unrest in Honduras has resulted in the cancellation of July and August mission/service groups and we are unsure of when trips will be able to resume. That translates into a loss of nearly $60,000 in support, both immediate and long term, also impacting the vital work these groups accomplish for the good of Montaña de Luz.

Please continue to join us in our hopes and prayers for a peaceful resolve in these unsettling times. Your consideration in making a donation at this time of need is also appreciated. Know that your support means the world to the children and mission of Montaña de Luz."

This is unfortunate news; however, I hope we can continue to help MdL with this fund raiser, so keep your friends informed and let them know about this great foundation. Thanks, guys!

http://www.firstgiving.com/blakeon2wheels

Day 34: Eads, CO to Pueblo, CO (105 Miles)

2009-08-03T22:09:00.008-04:00

Callum likes his toast. It seems that it's easier for me to delay the waking up process when I have others around me who are doing the same thing. When I sleep alone, I shoot up out of my sleeping quarters the moment my wristwatch begins to exalt it's morning song. Like four confused bears waking up after heavy tranquilizing, we slowly made our way towards dressing ourselves and speaking in complete sentences. Being the "morning person" of the group, I walked over to the nearest gas station and brought back some donuts. I found that there was a diner opening at 6:30AM, so we walked over to this establishment for more calories and carbs. We knew today was going to be a long one (113 miles in total), so we promptly took in all sorts of greasy diner breakfast food.

Today was a long, long day. Luckily, Chris lent me an audiobook version of "A Walk In The Woods" by Bill Bryson. It provided for hours of entertainment and giggles; however, I was filled with a sense of melancholy... I had a sobering realization that I will never be able to write with such wit and charm as this man can do with such ease and prowess. Knowing my limitations, I'll just stick with internet web logs for the time being. I made the decision today to not murder my left knee and let the Brits go ahead at their triathlete pace. So, the good part of this morning was filled with complete desolate isolation... oh, and head winds too! The problem with these high plains, is that there is not a single tree, hill, or man made structure to resist and/or subdue the wind from gaining momentum. A single puppy fart in Eastern Colorado can perpetually grow and turn into a ravaging tornado in Western Kansas. Oh, I finally saw a few prairie dogs in a field to my left and I got far more excited about this fact than I should have. I stopped into a small gas station in Haswell ("Home of the World's Smallest Jail Cell") and as I was grabbing a few drinks and a candy bar, the station clerk shouted, "That's enough, Blake!" It took a little bit to figure out she was addressing her son about using a remote toot machine, juxtaposed to chastising me for my dietary habits...

I spent the rest of the day just riding along an adjacent train track filled with Union Pacific freight cars. I'm assuming they're either abandoned or just seasonally used. In any case, there had to be at least 20 miles worth of cars sitting idly on those tracks! I saw a lot more interesting breeds of road kill (or as I heard one TransAm'er lovingly refer to them as "sleeping animals with bad breath") today than I have in any other stretch of my trip. A baby owl was the worst of them and I had to compose myself not to break into tears in the middle of Nowhere, CO. On the topic of road kill, I stopped in for some lunch in Sugar City and had a few laughs with the snarky owner, mailed some post cards kept moving forward. As I got closer to Pueblo, the majestic Rocky Mountains came into view and then immediately obscured by ominous storm clouds. Most of the storm cells missed me, but the winds kicked up towards 40mph and I had to stop for 10 minutes during one section and just sit down in a ditch. I could barely keep my bike up, let alone move forward... so sitting amongst discarded fast food containers sounded like a better option.

(Courtesy of Leslie Ralphe)

On the outskirts of Pueblo, I was ecstatic to see some more familiar faces. My aunt Leslie and cousin Amelia had driven down from Colorado Springs to relieve of my frantic peddling in high winds. I had been in communication with them for some time and I decided that it would be a nice reprieve of riding and spend a rest day amongst family. Also, I had planned on taking my bike to be serviced at a local shop and this works out great too! Nevertheless, I've arrived into Pueblo 2 days short of my target and this will make me pull in some more 100+ days when I see the opportunity to do so. Leslie and Amelia helped me take off my panniers and load my bike onto their car rack and, for the first time in a long time, I was riding at high speeds in a car. It felt so odd to be traveling so fast... I think driving all the time really makes you trivialize and depreciate the time and effort it takes to travel long distances. I can only imagine what it felt like to see the first Model-T driving through downtown and startling your horse and buggy, let alone yourself. In any case, I was grateful to be traveling at high speeds and in the company of family.

Leslie drove us to their hometown, Colorado Springs. It seemed like a very nice progressive city, filled with cool businesses and restaurants. The city also overlooks Pike's Peak, an impressive display in mountain design, if I do say so myself. I then was treated to a wonderful dinner at one of their favorite pub/restaurants in town. We took in some delicious food (this is one thing I can't recommend about Kansas: Their food. It's horrible... drippy... and just plain bad. And this is coming from a non-picky eater!) And after dinner, we drove to their homestead on the outskirts of town and was lovingly greeted by Uncle Greg and their adorable dogs. I'm feeling really pampered right now and, normally, this would send me into throws of guilt... but I think one pampered day in Colorado Springs won't hurt my pride too much! Cheers and g'night!

Day 33: Leoti, KS to Eads, CO (79.5 Miles)

2009-08-02T19:41:00.001-04:00

MORE WIND!!! I was hoping that I'd get at least one day of tailwinds through Kansas; conversely, I faced headwinds/crosswinds with a minimum of 20mph every day throughout this flat, hot state. Oh well, this just means I can't have any more rest days and I'll have to hoof it through the Rockies at the fastest pace I can manage. When I told Alena that I only had two months, she was almost shocked with the pace I had to keep. It never really bothered me until now. Everyone I've met, with the exception of Carbon Fiber Jeff, usually has to average either 60 or 50 miles a day. On the bright side of things, I was just informed by my parents that they are purchasing my flight back to Boston... which is so thoughtful and amazing of them!

I left Leoti after chowing down on some free "continental" breakfast foods, leaving my mates behind to chat with some locals. I kept good pace, in spite of the wind, and crossed over into another time zone... but there's no mountains yet! I then met up with the guys in Tribune for lunch at a local "Kwik Stop" gas station (almost all businesses out here are shut down on Sundays). After taking in some more unhealthy food, I set off towards the Colorado border and then across the most desolate section of my trip yet. There was absolutely NOTHING for the next 60 miles. Well, there was a closed rest stop that provided some shade, but the majority of my surroundings were barren fields of dust and locusts. I kept pace with Chris, Callum and Dowds... but finally let them "chain gang" their way into Eads towards the latter section of the trip. I put on some music podcasts onto my iPod shuffle and sang my heart out. I think I disturbed the local insects/snakes/rabbits.

I arrived into Eads shortly after 5:00PM and found the guys hanging out at a local gas station. Apparently, every restaurant was shut down for Sabbath... so it looked like it was another night of eating crappy foods filled with high fructose corn syrup and God knows what else. Callum and I then went and got a cheap room for an insomniac hotel desk clerk and snuck the fellows in afterwards. I've got quite the headache right now and I'm pretty sun burnt. The temperature got up to a sultry 97 degrees and it's supposed to reach triple digits tomorrow. I'm covered in the dry sodium my body kicked out of me and I'm longing for the cooler temperatures of higher elevations. On that note: I'm at the highest elevation of the trip thus far (4,000 feet above sea level) and it's been the flattest section of the trip. No wonder they call this the "high plains," eh?

We're going to grab some "dinner" food from the local gas station. I'm getting sick of this fake food stuff... I haven't had a proper meal in days! Oh well, Ghostbusters 1 & 2 is on the television right now and that'll hopefully keep my mind off the hunger pangs.

P.S. This was quoted at least once today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80lM8ukLDns

Day 32: Ness City, KS to Leoti, KS (80.5 Miles)

2009-08-01T22:21:00.001-04:00

More wind today... but it was certainly more manageable than yesterday. Unlike yesterday, the wind wasn't always constant and switched sporadically from cross winds to head winds. I left Ness City around 6:30AM (an hour later than I wanted to), but it was still dark when I departed. I'm assuming it's because the days are growing shorter now and that I'm about to cross another time zone tomorrow. In any case, the wind was the strongest during these morning hours and made the first 30-something miles to breakfast all the more difficult. I was pleasantly surprised to find the wind had dissipated a bit afterwards and I was able to convince myself in putting in some serious miles today. At breakfast in a bowling alley, I met Alena (pictured below) and it was nice to crack some jokes with another person that shares the same sense of humor. We shared some stories over pancakes and cinnamon buns and then we were off!

Just outside of Dighton, I met two other Eastbounders and surprise, surprise... they're Brits! They seemed like a lovely couple and they reassured me about how close I was to getting into the Rockies. Today was spent on the same road... Route 96, which I'll be riding for the next few days as well. The road is so straight and the terrain so flat, I can see the town I need to arrive for breakfast/lunch/dinner/sleep from 10-15 miles away. The water towers always remain on the horizon and it makes you feel like you're slowly crawling along at a snail's pace. I didn't stop for a proper lunch today, thinking I'd find something in Leoti for an early dinner. However, when I arrived into Leoti, I was told that the restaurants were all closed due to a "Wichita County Fair" that was occurring this very weekend. The prospect of no food for another 30 miles and the promise of shelter/carnival food/air conditioning convinced me into staying here for the evening.

I checked into another cheap motel just a little after 3:00PM and showered off the smells of the high plains (I've decided that Kansas is my motel-state... the camping areas are virtually non-existant and/or inhospitable and the motels are so incredibly inexpensive! Plus, it's great riding in a larger pack and being able to share the expenses). I passed by a lot of livestock "farms" (I use quotations because they're all just thousands of square feet of cows standing/lying in their own fecal matter, surrounded by barbwire pins). It was such a contrast, seeing these animals in a drab Jersey-esque industrial setting and across the road was an open field with several cows grazing freely... it was like the difference between a Mexican resort and the tin-shack towns that surround it. Most of you know I was a vegetarian for a few years before the few months leading up to this trip, and I'll definitely stop eating meat the day this journey ends... the ethical/moral reasons are just too powerful to ignore. (Sorry Sands!)

So the guys arrived a little after 6:00PM and we walked over to a local Mexican food restaurant, but found that their queue was far too long of a wait. We were informed that they had loads of food over at the fair and that there was a rodeo starting at eight o'clock. We shuffled over and ate some greasy food and found our seats at the rodeo. It started out innocent enough, with hilarious falls off of bucking broncos; however, I started to feel a little uncomfortable when they started lassoing cattle and snapping their necks with great ferocity. I couldn't stomach anymore and decided to leave early to catch a few non-vomit inducing rides like the Ferris Wheel and left my British counterparts to enjoy the infamous "riding of the bulls." The treatment of the cows was just far too much, especially after seeing what I had saw earlier. Maybe I'm too much a softy to be a cowboy... Do cowboys eat veggie burgers and cry while watching movies?

Day 31: Larned, KS to Ness City, KS (66 Miles)

2009-07-31T18:38:00.002-04:00

If you've been around me in colder temperatures and if it was a particularly windy day, you'd probably know how explicitly I despise wind...

I had planned on riding close to 100 miles today, yet 25-35mph winds made me cut my day short in Ness City. I left the church at sunrise and the wind wasn't very noticeable. By looking at the maps, I realized I was heading north for the first 30 miles of the day and it was only when I turned left outside of Rush Center did I realize there was a strong South by Southwest wind blowing through the Kansas sky. It was like riding into a wall of sound and fury. It kept all my effort to keep my bike from tipping over and whenever a large truck would drive by, it would whip up a mini-tornado that could kick me three feet from one side to another. I attempted an experiment on a slow downhill to not pedal and my bike came to a complete stop within 10 yards. It was a hellish wind, indeed.

To make matters worse, the economy has greatly inflicted the small town diners and motels along my route. I was planning on stopping in the first two towns on the map for a late breakfast; however, they were all closed amongst the other abandoned buildings along the town center. I rode along under the sole influence of Pop-Tarts and granola bars until I found a rest stop. I then took out my maps and struggled with the wind and finally decided I would have to make it a shorter day, for the sake of not murdering my legs. I only rode 66 miles today, but it felt like I rode at least 100. This is quite discouraging because I had wanted to get into Pueblo, Colorado by Monday. If these winds keep up, I'll be lucky to get there by next weekend!

I've checked into a cheap motel and I plan on relaxing for the rest of the day. I need to ride to Leoti or Tribune to get back on semi-track, which is another 90-100 mile day. I'm going to meet the guys for dinner / ubiquitous ice cream trip, and then I can hopefully fall asleep early enough to wake up at 4:00AM. I've heard the winds really kick up around mid-day, so I'm going to try to fit in as many miles as possible before noon. I'm assuming the lads will get on the road a bit later than me and catch up in no time (hung over or not).

Logistics aside, I've realized now that it's been a month since I dipped my rear tire in Yorktown. I left the familiarity of my parents and my friends & home before that. I'm at a middle point now, and my imminent return to the life I've left behind me will crystallize before I even realize it. The only word that explains my life as of now is "surreality." From the disorienting moment I awake in a new place, to the quiet mornings and the long shadows, to the blank stares I receive when I walk into a local diner... it's all so very surreal. I'm sure I will look back on these moments with fondness; nevertheless, I can only meet every day with a naive disposition. What will this latter half reflect upon the first? How will it set itself apart? I can only look forward now.

Day 30: Hutchinson, KS to Larned, KS (77 Miles)

2009-07-30T20:54:00.006-04:00

Today was boring.

That's right, you heard me correctly. Even the most profound journeys must have their dry spells, and I'm assuming I'm going through one now. Maybe's it my mood, inflicted by disappointment in someone on the home front, or maybe it's the dull, flat landscape? I did sleep in and went to the post office with the guys... but as we were pulling out of town, Dowds broke one of his Shimano pedals. We decided to catch breakfast in town and wait for the bike shop to open at 9:00AM. When all was said and finished, we finally began to ride North to get back on route. However, as we left the shop, one of the workers commented that there was an unusually strong North by Northeast wind. We soon found out how strong.

The wind constantly pushed against us with such force, that it constantly felt like we were going uphill. It was a long, slow, and dreadful ride. I let the quicker-paced Brits ride ahead and I tried to keep my mind off of things by listening to podcasts, but it was hard not to notice the complete isolation that surrounded me. There was a stretch of 60 miles with absolutely no sign of human life... with the rare exception of a few road signs, barb-wire fences and anti-abortion billboards. I met the guys at a local pool around 4:00PM and they told me they sorted us a place to sleep for the night, a local Presbyterian church. We're going to grab some food and I'm going to bed early with the hopes of a less-windy day.

(P.S. I somehow lost all my photos taken today. They weren't particularly exciting, so don't think you're missing out on anything.)

Day 29: Rest Day in Hutchinson, KS (0 Miles)

2009-07-30T20:13:00.008-04:00

Sleeping in can be delightful. I slept until 8:30-ish and felt well rested and ready for the day of non-riding. Well, that's not all true. I had to ride from the shop (where the mechanics did a poor job of “fixing” my bike, but I'll get into that later) to the post office to pick up my new ATM/Debit card. My dad had mailed it “General Delivery” and I called beforehand to make sure they had the package. When I arrived, a confident USPS worker walked back into the stock room and emerged a minute later saying “there's no mail under that name, sorry!” I then explained that I had just called and they told me the package was there. He then walked back for another minute and emerged with a box containing my sole lifeline to American currency. After activating the card at the nearest ATM and destroying my temporary card, I rode over to meet the guys at a local diner for breakfast. I had a good time watching the waiter attempt to understand Callum's odd requests and then we took off to the Hutchinson Cosmosphere.

At first glance, the museum was not much to look at. However, we soon realized that they had quite an extensive museum stocked full of interesting information/artifacts. The planetarium show lulled a few of us to sleep, but the OMNIMAX presentation of “Beavers: The Biggest Dam Movie You'll Ever See” was beyond fantastic. Beavers are very impressive creatures and I emerged with a new level of respect for these resilient engineers of the wild. We also took part of a fun little lab experiment show called “Dr. Goddard's Laboratory.” It was rather boring save for a few small explosions. I left the museum a little early to make some phone calls and catch up with some friends. It's great to hear familiar voices and share stories with them. I feel like I've always had great appreciation for my friends and loved ones, and this trip only bolsters that sentiment.

After chatting on the phone for a bit, I rode over to the laundromat to give my stinking clothes a good soaking. Dowds and I watched some crappy local television as Chris did some math while looking at the maps. He did a rough estimate that I need to average at least 70 miles a day for me to make my deadline. I'm hoping this won't be a problem; however, I do want to spend a rest day with family in Colorado Springs and that will most likely decline my average. I might as well try to make the most out of these flat terrains while I can... let's just hope there's not a lot of wind holding me back! I am a little worried about my crank/bottom bracket, though. I told the guys to fix the clanking/shifting sound of what appears to be the front cassette slowly breaking... but they said they found nothing wrong with it. I'm assuming it only occurs when the bike is fully loaded, so here's hoping that I can make it to another shop in Pueblo, CO without any significant problems.

After laundry, we decided we wanted some Italian food... so we shuffled into this very nice restaurant, looking like four smelly, unkempt drifters. We raised a few eyebrows, but we could have cared less as we gorged ourselves on fine Italian eatery. We were surrounded by two large tables full of middle aged women asking us questions and making all sorts of high-pitched sounds. It was quite the evening. I'm debating sleeping in and going with the guys to the post office at 7:30 or leaving early... I'm assuming the temptation of sleeping for another few hours will most likely win me over.

P.S. My netbook has been acting strange and has been importing only some of my photos... so, sadly, I'm not able to share with you all that I can/want to (I only realize this after deleting the photos from my flash card). I'll try to be more diligent in figuring out the source of this problem.

Day 28: Newton, KS to Hutchinson, KS (38.5 Miles)

2009-07-28T21:27:00.010-04:00

I was having a rough night, then came the entertainment. Instead of a pack of coyotes, I was woken at 1:00AM by three saucy Brits. I was informed that Dowds was passed out on the lawn near the highway and Callum Reid then proceeded to drop trow and jump into the adjacent bed with his helmet and biking cleats still on. I asked Chris how many pints they had, and his retort was something along the lines of: "For f***'s sake, Blake... we're British!" Callum then continued to proclaim: "I ain't fussy, bruv!" over and over again and Dowds, when able to speak, kept calling me Brent. I didn't mind being coaxed from my bed... I wasn't sleeping very well and was rather depressed. I won't lie - There are times where I'm overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness and a want for home. This sentimental feeling is quite sporadic though, because I'm only inflicted at certain moments and in certain places. Conversely, when I'm on my bike and looking out over the Kansas horizon... the vast openness and impressive display of nature (via storm clouds, mostly) keep me grounded and in the moment.

(Courtesy of Chris Holmes)

Today was supposed to be a short ride into Hutchinson, where we'll have our nice long rest day. It took a long time for Dowds to wake up from his alcohol-induced coma and we finally got onto the road by mid-day. We rode slowly along highway 50, receiving subtle boosts of wind by trucks passing by at 70mph. I started to slow up and began to notice that my rear wheel was losing air drastically. I soon found my first puncture of the trip! I guess I'm pretty lucky not having one until 2,000 miles into my trip. I had no problems getting the tire off and replacing the tube; however, the wheel was nearly impossible to get back onto the rim. Chris and I struggled with it for a few minutes and Dowds was able to work the bead away from the valve and eventually solve the problem. As I was replacing the tube, I noticed that my "Marathon" tire was pretty worn from all the weight, especially compared to the front tire. Thus, I made the decision to have it replaced when we reached Hutchinson.

We did make into town by early afternoon and I was pleased to finally find sidewalks in Kansas! We rolled into Harley's Bicycle Shop and picked up the key to the local hostel, located at the Zion Lutheran Church. We dropped off our panniers and surveyed the basement: Air mattress? Check. Shower? Check. Kitchen? Check. It's a nice hostel and I'm sure we'll leave them some donations before we leave on Thursday morning. Taking off on lighter/speedier bikes, we rode back to the shop and explained our requests. We then walked over to Wendy's for some WiFi and drinks, then to the library to waste an hour or so.

We walked the "downtown" strip, but couldn't find much in terms of nourishment/entertainment. We decided to settle on a cheap Mexican buffett (the people of the Mid-West sure do love their comida Mexicana.) I think we're calling it an early night tonight, just hanging out watching VHS tapes like "100 Greatest Sports Bloopers" and listening to Chris play away on the church piano... that boy is one talented musician. It's going to feel great to sleep in and just relax all day. I think we're going to visit the local Space Museum, it's pretty much the reason this town gets any visitors, so we'll be happy to oblige their tourism industry.

Day 27: Toronto, KS to Newton, KS (102.5 Miles)

2009-07-27T21:26:00.014-04:00

I was rudely awaken a little after 2:00AM by a small pack of coyotes sniffing away at my pannier bags. I quickly utilized a tactic involving a headlamp and shouting to scare away the mongrels from my Ramen, rice, and assorted granola snacks. It was then I noticed the large shivering dots surrounding my tent. A large colony of spiders decided that my tent would be a solid foundation for setting up their nightly food traps. I attempted to fall back asleep, but the thoughts of rabid beasts and arachnids crawling all over my tent were not conducive to sound sleeping. After one restless hour, I cunningly avoided the spiders and broke camp at 3:00AM. I made the semi-conscious decision to ride to Eureka and find the boys in the motel. It wasn't until I was a half mile down a dark road, with no moon in the sky, that I realized my decision was a bit odd.

Nevertheless, I rode along Route 54 towards Eureka and experienced a peaceful, albeit spooky, ride. Using my mounted lights and headlamp, I saw many sets of eyes staring at me from the side of the road. I took one turn out and saw many sets, only to find a new litter of kittens hanging out in the street. I had to scare one particular feline from it's snugly bed in a pothole, for fear that it may not wake fast enough to hear approaching vehicles. But I digress... So I arrived into town around 4:30AM and began calling out on the walkie-talkie in a feminine voice: "Heeeelllloooo? You boys awakey-wakey?" I then received a retort from Chris saying: "Blake... is that you? Are you mental?" I then found their room and tried to sneak into bed with Callum. I had to wake him to get the pillow he was spooning; however, it really startled him and he woke up violently/confused with a clinched fist and wide eyes. Chris and I laughed as he held this pose for 10 seconds and then he muttered some obscenity and quickly passed out again.

After sleeping in til 7:30AM, we had to get up and get going to the local post office to pick up a general delivery package for Dowds. We snuck in some breakfast and headed westward a bit before 10:00AM. Like an efficient team, we kept very good pace and only stopped to meet a few riders heading in the opposite direction. We met one fellow from the UK and another retired couple from Washington. It's really wonderful to share stories and give warnings/recommendations for the road ahead. We also met two young ladies who can be followed from this blog: (http://anadventurecalledbicycling.blogspot.com/). It seems like Kansas is the best place to meet riders, because there's not too many places they can hide!

Jumping off that last statement: There's not much to Kansas... or at least the Kansas I've seen. You'd be hard-pressed to find a local store in most towns and there are stretched for up to 40 miles without any services whatsoever. I guess the one positive aspect would be that there are many motels and they're cheap... dirt cheap. After my episode this morning, I'm most likely to not camp again until Colorado! Anyways, I think I'm checking into a motel tonight and getting some good sleep in before a short ride into Hutchinson, KS. The boys and I are having a day off on Wednesday to rest our legs, visit a bike shop, and for me to pick up my new debit/credit card. It'll be a long while since I've had a rest day (18 days to be exact) and my body could use some non-cycling. It's not just my legs that cease to function, but my entire body becomes so weak. For example, I had to clip my fingernails using my teeth... because I didn't have enough strength in my fingers to clip down. I'll tell you there's one thing that I can definitely do without much fuss... sleep. G'night everyone!

Day 26: Pittsburg, KS to Toronto, KS (97.5 Miles)

2009-07-26T20:30:00.004-04:00

We met a father and his two sons at the Chinese buffet last night, they're traveling from Washington and had some funny stories to share. One of these stories involves a crazy old lady coming to them the day before their trip (she had heard about their Trans-Am-plan on the television) and asked them to carry the ashes of her daughter. Not knowing what to say and/or do, they reluctantly agreed to her macabre request and she plopped down the gigantic bag of ashes (an extra 10 pounds for the trip.) The father had a terrific sense of humor and joked that they lost some from a tear in the bag and they had to use campfire ashes as a replacement. Well, I'm assuming he was joking? He continued to tell us that he wanted to do this trip all his life and then his first son was born... then he vowed to do it once he was of age to join him... then his second son was born... He's seventeen.

Knowing we had a big day ahead of us, we tried to get started early... but you know how that goes. As began to feel our momentum, Cal noticed a strange feeling in his strokes. We found that he had broke a chain link and Dowds replaced the bugger in no time. We got back on the road and finished our 35 mile trip to breakfast in no time. It's great traveling in flat country (well, we're still riding in the Flint Hills) with a larger group of people. My new friends are not only great people to hang out with, but they're fantastic cyclists. We normally average 20mph in a group and take turns drafting/leading. There are times where I feel like we're in a marathon race... against what though? Time? Kansas? Obesity? (At least 75% I've seen in Kansas have tipped in the scale of morbid obesity... maybe because there's only Pizza Huts and Sonic Drive Inns in every town.)

As the day wore on and the miles began to awaken more pains from my left knee cap, I decided to fall back from the group and set my slower pace into Toronto. The heat really started to bare down on me as I rode towards the campsite. In my sweaty delirium, I attempted to contact the guys via a cheap Wal-mart walkie-talkie, but could not raise them. I turned into the campsite and reserved us a spot of land. I subsequently ate an non-fulfilling dinner provided by the local concession stand, showered amongst spider webs, and set up my tent...

As I was trying to get a signal on my cellphone, a mini-van drove towards me with a smiling bearded man staring at me. He arrived with a note from my friends, saying they decided to push on to Eureka to find a motel and they couldn't contact me on the radio. I thanked the man and zipped up my tent with a sense of loneliness. Callum finally reached me on my cell to apologize about the lack of communication (Chris had left his cellphone in a motel about 120 miles away) and I told him not to sweat it. I had paid for the site (8 bucks) and the thought of breaking down my tent and riding an extra 25 miles was not alluring in the least. Now I'm just waiting for the hot Kansas sun to set, so that I may get some sleep and reserve some energy for another long ride through eastern Kansas. There's no place like home... there's no place like home...

Oh, I should also mention that I have been listening to many podcasts during these boring/flat spots... most of which consists of Filmspotting, Stuff You Should Know, This American Life, The Smodcast, The Moth, 60 Minutes, and several NPR programs. Not the least of which is "All Songs Considered" that featured a song that's been stuck in my head for days. It's entitled "The Gardner," performed by a Swede called Kristian Matsson (aka "The Tallest Man On Earth"). Quite the lovely song. Here's a youtube link.

Day 25: Everton, MO to Pittsburg, KS (63 Miles)

2009-07-25T21:56:00.000-04:00

I think I can sleep more soundly in a tent now as opposed to a warm, comfortable bed! The hunting dog kennel was just outside my window, so I would wake up to each howl and bark they directed toward nocturnal creatures. I moved my sleeping bag onto the couch of the lodge and was rewarded with a few hours of solid sleep. I awoke to Dowds informing me that an ominous thunder squall was coming in our direction. I sat on the back porch and watched the furious storm roll towards us and the others woke up to the rolling thunder shaking the lodge. With crusty eyes and frequent yawns, we slowly went along in preparing our breakfast. Chris decided to try making American pancakes without milk, which proved to be a difficult and somewhat successful process.

Deciding to wait out the storm before heading out, Dowds and Callum went back to get their sleep in and I popped in a quail hunting safety/instructional video... enthralling entertainment. It began to lighten up around 10:00AM and I took off towards Golden City, home of Cooky's Cafe and the "best pie on the Trans-Am Trail." The ride towards town was initially hilly and wet; however, after climbing over one crest, I finally reached the flat lands of the Midwest. I arrived into town a bit before the rest and hurried down some lunch. Callum, Chris and Dowds arrived in style and we had a good time flirting with the waitress and eating loads of pie. Callum and I departed short after 1:00PM, leaving Chris and Dowds to eat more slices of pie.

Oh, and as we were flipping through the cyclist log book at Cooky's, we stumbled upon this fascinating entry:

Feeling great with flat lands ahead of us, Callum and I raced toward the Kansas border (hoping we'd beat Dowds across the border). We came across signs noting that our route was closed in 6... 4... 2 miles. We were warned of this detour and were told it's best to just walk the 200 yards and cross the highway. We promptly got off our bikes and quickly noticed the wet mud/clay mixed together to create a quicksand concoction that stopped out bikes in their tracks. It became nearly impossible to push the bikes along and we were forced to press onward with periodic intervals of picking up the bikes and dragging them along in the mud. After we reached a certain point, we noticed that the mud pile had a drop off leading onto the highway. We had to backtrack to the side and then we noticed Chris and Dowds had caught up with us.

We spent a good 30 minutes trying to get the gunk from under our fenders, forks, and brakes. We then noticed there was a 20 yard ditch/run-off between us and the highway. Seeing no other alternative, we sucked it up and pushed forward through the waist-high brush. I went first and blazed a trail for my friends, but I took on the brunt of the pricky bushes and I emerged with bleeding legs. We then jogged across four lanes of fast moving traffic and cleaned off our bikes yet again. What should have taken us 60 seconds to ride across 400 yards of road, ended up taking us over an hour. It was quite the ordeal.

Finally taking off again, we ran into another east-bounder and we shared tips about places to stay, what to expect, etc. As we said our goodbyes, Callum and Dowds darted for the state border. Chris and I were the only ones carrying the map and we knew that there was at least 8 more miles until the border, therefore we just smiled and let these two fools sprint for Kansas. They kept a good 25mph pace until the border and we found them rather spent, but not too much to pose for this picture...

Day 24: Marshfield, MO to Everton, MO (57 Miles)

2009-07-24T20:26:00.002-04:00

Somehow, I slept in this morning. I'm not sure if I consciously ignored my alarm clock or I accidentally muffled the noise with a shirt or pillow... in any case, we got started a little later than I would have liked. Knowing we had a shorter day, we decided not to sweat it too much. I took off a little early to fulfill my coffee fix and use a public restroom. I took about three sips of java before it tumbled onto the the sidewalk. Not caring too much, I found it to be a sign to get biking.

I caught up with the boys for breakfast in Fair Grove, where a transvestite waitress served us. She really took a liking to Callum and I, touching us on any given chance. After downing some eggs and being groped by a transgender, we rode onward towards Everton. In spite of the promise of a short ride, I found the day to be very challenging. The last hills of Missouri was laid before me and my muscles decided that they didn't want to cooperate in my journey west. I lost pace with my friends from across the pond and the heat decided to shift from moderate to oppressive. I stopped at a family-run diner in Walnut Grove and hid in the shade for a while longer. Feeling somewhat refreshed, I continued my excessive perspiration. Along the way, I ran into two riders from Colorado, Kristen & Mark (who had striking resemblances to my friends Sarah Campbell and Justin Coffey). They're biking for Invisible Children (http://www.biking4invisiblechildren.com/index.html).

Crawling into Everton a bit past tea time, I asked a local mechanic where I could find the local hunting lodge. He directed me down a mile of precarious dirt roads to find an oasis in the middle of Nowhere, MO. The Running Spring Farm really reminds me of Mee Maw and Pop Pop's place on Lake Gaston, NC. I found the boys relaxing and enjoying the luxuries provided. It only costed 20 dollars for the night's stay and this was a steal, to say the least. Dowds cooked us a delicious pasta dinner, Chris made us some dessert, and I did the dishes. We're going to spend the rest of the evening relaxing our muscles, chatting, and playing checkers.

Day 23: Houston, MO to Marshfield, MO (65 Miles)

2009-07-23T19:33:00.012-04:00

Last night's sleep went quite well, save for one instance when a group of teenagers were performing drunken acts on the playground nearby. I decided to sleep in a little bit and walked over to the Moose Coffee to update previous blog posts. It's quite the time-consuming task and I found myself leaving close to 9:00am... a late start, but I had a short day planned. The boys and I were going to bike to Marshfield for the day and the topographical charts showed that this would be the last 'hurrah!' of the Ozarks. Good riddance, I say (although I know the flatness of Kansas will make me long for the good ol' days in the mountains).

(I also wanted to add an apology to all those who have written/called me and I haven't replied... it's nothing personal and I'm thankful for all your support. I'm just very hard-pressed to write these words on the blog, let alone call/write everyone who contacts me. I'm spending most of my time breaking camp, eating, biking, eating, biking, resting, setting up camp, and so on & so forth, thus not allowing me the time I want to reply to you all. Please know that I'm very pleased to hear from you all and please continue to leave messages/write emails/etc... it helps me a lot!)

The morning ride was quite stunning, with the roadkill becoming equally interesting. The Appalachians featured such creatures as rattlesnakes, raccoons, and possums... while the Ozarks feature the always-hilarious armadillo and giant lizards. The ride was going along quite swell, until I began to notice signs saying: "WARNING! Loose Gravel and Oil." For a good majority of the afternoon, I was riding along sticky/rocky roads, with the heat baking into my skin from below. The fumes got to me and I had to pull off the road to catch a few breaths of fresh air before trudging along again.

I met the fellas for lunch and headed off again to find more construction. Only this time, I was caught behind "sweepers" or giant machines that kick up clouds of dust. I had to keep a good 50 yards between us, otherwise I'd suffocate in the ominous cloud of now-flying sediments. The major problem was that these infernal machines inched along at a crawl and I couldn't pass them. The Brits somehow got past them and found themselves waiting for me in the cool confines of a local pool for at least an hour. I finally arrived and we washed up, pitched our tents outside the pool area, and headed into town for laundry/food.

I'm looking forward to a nice morning ride into Fair Grove for breakfast. We've decided it best to sleep in for a few hours and catch up on some much needed sleep. I've been functioning well on an average of 6-7 hours of sleep, but it will be nice to have those extra hours... I'm sure they'll go a long way.

Day 22: Centerville, MO to Houston, MO (84 Miles)

2009-07-22T20:48:00.011-04:00

This is never a good sign...

Today was hilly and probably the most challenging ride since I left the Appalachians. As I write that, I realized not much has changed since I left Kentucky. I was hoping for a drastic change in culture; however, the southern accents remain, the pickup trucks get louder, and the country music continues to annoy. I'm writing this from "Moose Coffee" in Houston, MO and I just heard a country song say something along the lines of (mind you, this is not verbatim): "My daddy wore the white cloth, but my daddy was a good man!" And now the radio station is having a "party line," where callers talk about politics and their bigotry/banter is flirting with the Autism spectrum. For some odd reason, I thought crossing into Illinois would be like moving from Hillbillyville, KY to Chicago, IL. But, alas, Confederate flags are still waving around in the Missouri wind.

We did end up sleeping inside the thrift shop and I'm very thankful to Paula for her home cooking and kindness. I took off a little earlier than my mates and eventually caught up with them around lunch time. The Ozarks are difficult to ride due their steep grades and inconsistent nature. Unlike the Appalachians, the climb up to the ridge is not rewarding because there are steep "roller coaster" hills along the ridge. As I rode towards Summersville, I heard a primordial howl (much akin to what I think Buck sounds like in Jack London's "The Call of the Wild"). Fully expecting a wolf or coyote to appear, a skinny and tired stray dog ran out towards me. I gave it some love and began to ride off. It followed me for about two miles and I decided to stop to give it the rest of my beef jerky and some water.

The poor dog followed me again until the trio caught up with me. We stopped at a lookout tower and my new friend waited for me at the bottom. As we climbed to the top, the whole structure began to sway and shake with our movements. I figured the sign saying "Climb At Your Own Risk!" was put there for a reason. About a hundred feet above the tree line, I finally got a cellphone signal and made a few phone calls to inform my parents of my well-being. We then slowly climbed down (Dowds and Callum have a phobia of heights) and found the dog waiting for me again. Knowing this persistent dog would follow me like the previous dog in Kentucky, I had to really pedal to lose him. And much like the prior dog story, this one ended the same. The same brown dot, running slowly along the blistering pavement. And again, I was filled with a powerful sense of sorrow.

We then stopped in at Summersville to use their library and grocery store. I took off before the other guys and was almost hit by an 18-wheeler. The driver laid on his horn and didn't budge from the (almost non-existent) shoulder, in spite of having no traffic coming from the other lane. Seeing the first few wheels pass by violently only two feet away, I pulled over and fell over into a bush. It was a scary, albeit maddening, moment. Why do truckers hate us cyclists so much? We can't kill them. All we can do is slow down their day by 30 seconds or so. It should be the other way around, but... as I cycle through these places, I'm finding it harder to hate (even with dissimilar cultures/values).

Not knowing at the time, but we decided to honor the death of the Taco Bell dog by eating their crappy food. Houston has a nice little town park where we're staying for the evening, but there are no showers. I've gotten pretty proficient with bathing myself in sinks and with wet wipes... but a nice hot shower is certainly alluring. I'm hoping that the next town park has some facilities that favors us smelly riders. Tomorrow should be a shorter ride... we're trying to break a ride to Everton into two days, because Bob Stoner informed us of a fantastic hunting lodge. "If you want to spend 20 bucks for a night of luxury, go to Running Spring Farm Hunting Preserve and Inn."

Day 21: Ozara, MO to Centerville, MO (79.5 Miles)

2009-07-21T20:31:00.000-04:00

One cramped motel room filled with four riders can develop quite the concoction of potent smells. After sleeping soundly next to the warmth of Dowds, I was rudely awaken by the beeping of my wristwatch. I contemplated sleeping in and I should have seen this as proper insight of a forthcoming day of liquid discomfort. Callum decided to join me for the morning ride so that we could stop in at Farmington for a good long breakfast-break, where Chris and Dowds would soon join us. The sky this morning was outstanding, yet I should have know it was the only time I'd see the sun all day.

I started to become aware of the darkening sky around us and promptly put on my rain covers and jacket. Within minutes it began to drizzle and then develop into a consistent blanket of wetness. The Brits, with their racing mentalities, pushed onward as I kept my slow and/or steady pace. The ride was filled with more steep climbs and disappointing descents (the rain stings at high speeds and slick roads make for precarious turns). After a few close calls with lumber trucks, dodgy potholes, and abysmal shoulders spread along highways, I finally pulled into Centerville, a short time after 3:00am. I found the boys eating/sleeping at “Paula's Home Cooking,” and I joined them for a late lunch/early dinner.

I think we're setting up our tents outside the courthouse in town (there's not much here besides this restaurant, gas station, and a post office), unless it continues to downpour, because Paula offered for us to sleep in her adjacent (temporarily closed) thrift shop. I'd much prefer this option; however, the rain seems to be lightening up and I think we're going to be outside for the evening. In any case, I'm just very hopeful for a good night's rest, because the toughest climbs of the Ozarks lie ahead of us tomorrow.

Day 20: Carbondale, IL to Ozora, MO (72.5 Miles)

2009-07-20T22:18:00.020-04:00

I muffled my alarm clock, yet my biological clock still kicked me out of bed a short time after 5:00am. The motel bed was far from comfortable (I'd much prefer my roll-up mat) and featured moth holes in the sheets. Feeling somewhat productive, I walked down for breakfast and grocery shopping. I came back to the room to pack everything up and there was a documentary on HBO entitled "The Gates," which focused on the interpretation of a temporary art exhibit in Central Park, NYC. As I watched, a commercial came onto the telly and, in a haze, I thought I just saw my good friend Marvelyn on a HBO commercial. Making sure I wasn't losing my mind, I checked the world wide web and found it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJdp-NQclhw ... good job, Marv!

I checked out of the motel and rode down to the friendly, bearded mechanics at Bike Surgeon. I had them throw on a new chain, true my front wheel, and give it all kinds of mechanic lovin'. Dowds rolled in a few minutes afterwards and had his front wheel replaced. Callum and Chris decided to sleep in and took off from Carbondale with us. As we rode through Murphysboro, Dowds was riding ahead of me when we heard the "pop." Instantly noticing the wobble of his rear tire, we knew that he had broken another spoke. Realizing there wasn't another bike shop until we reached Kansas, he decided to ride back to the shop and he'd play catch-up later.

We then rode onward to the flattest part of our journey thus far, the Mississippi Levee. It was nice and flat; however, the roads were unsigned and confusing in their layout. In one instance, we stopped to check for directions, only to notice a jeep for sale that we had seen about 30 minutes earlier. I never thought we'd get so lost that we could ride in circles, but my navigating prowess understands no boundaries. Eventually, we pulled into the town of Chester, "The Home of Popeye." In spite of some cute parks and statues, Chester was just another Midwest town with one McDonalds and a Wal-mart. Today was a horrible day for my stomach... I ate fast-food for all three meals and I'm feeling the ramifications as I type this.

Leaving Chester, we found the bridge leading over the Mississippi River and gateway into Missouri. In place of a rewarding feeling of crossing over into another state, we were filled with fear of a narrow bridge riddled with potholes. About a mile in, we received a call from Dowds... informing us that he's already in Missouri and is about an hour ahead of us. Chris and Callum informed me that his goal was to beat his mates across every state border and he was able to accomplish this even with a broken spoke/new rim replacement. Impressive.

The beginning stretch of Missouri was very nice, scenic, and most importantly, flat! Yet, I knew the Ozark Mountains lied ahead of us and within minutes we were peddling up the foothills. We finally pulled into Ozara around 6:30pm and found Dowds waiting for us. We walked over to a truck stop for dinner and the owner said we could eat up in the "trucker lounge." We walked up some narrow stairs and found a room filled with tables, arcade games, couches, and a fully-operational shower. It's good to know that some places have these things, in case we're camping in a town park and need to continue our semi-hygienic practices.

Dowds got us a room at the local "Family Value Inn," but we needed to sneak in two of us. After some covert ops, we were able to get into the room without incident. A few minutes later, a clueless Callum walks in with the owner of the motel to complain that we didn't have any bath towels. Equally clueless, the manager didn't seem to care that he had four smelly cyclists in one of his rooms... in fact, he seemed to be happy to see us. I'm sure he was happy to have paying customers, because the shower looked unused for years and the exhaust fan sounded like a jet airliner. Callum and I are going to get up early tomorrow so we can have a proper breakfast break and enjoy the sights/sounds of the early morning.

Day 19: Golconda, IL to Carbondale, IL (71.5 Miles)

2009-07-19T23:19:00.002-04:00

Yes, I ate all of that...

I left San Damiano at sunrise and felt my legs failing me within the first 25 miles. As I traveled along the Trail of Tears, I set my eyes toward Eddyville, IL. Upon arrival, it looked like the gas station/store was closed. Everything is takes on the look of a ghost town on Sundays. On one hand, it's great having very few cars on the roads; conversely, it's dreadfully difficult to find places for water/food/rest. I pulled up to a man apparently sleeping in his truck, and he told me of the Shawnee Restaurant and Lounge. I went there and ate the biggest breakfast I've ever consumed. It helped. Pushing on again, hoping that I'd run into Chris & Chris, I stopped to chat with these three fellows from Syracuse, New York. I warned them of rabid dogs, soul-wrenching switchbacks, and lack of bike shops in Kentucky. In return, they warned me of insect swarms, shady campgrounds, and more steep hills.

I stopped in Goreville for lunch and found a gem of a restaurant called Delaney's. The owners sat with me and shared stories and offered me free pie. Feeling stuffed, I had to decline the pie, so they gave me apples instead. After some brief picture taking and thanksgiving, I took off towards Carbondale. I wanted to end my day there due to numerous bike shops (my Bianchi needs a tune-up something fierce) and hopefully catch Chris, Callum, and Dowds.

The road to Carbondale was nice and rural, with plenty of farms stretched along the way. As I approached town, I could see the signs of a college town emerging. Keywords like "organic," "interfaith," and peace flags made me felt welcome. It's sad that I'm here during the summer, because I'd like to see this town in it's element, say during October or April. Anyways, I found a super-cheap motel ("The Heritage") just outside of town and spoke for a bit with a very eccentric, maybe drunk, owner.

I then received a call from the Brits and they informed me they were staying in the EconoLodge on the other side of town. They were stranded here due to a mishap of knife blade meeting rubber. Dowds somehow stabbed his front tire whilst putting on a new computer onto his Trek outside a Wal-Mart parking lot. I also ran into Chris & Chris, who stealth-camped in Elizabethtown last night, and they checked into the same motel as me (where they found a colony of bugs infesting their room). After sharing our wretched stories of the prior evening, I headed east of town to meet up with the trio. I soon found them topping off copious amounts of beer (which seems to be a running theme with these guys). We hung out outside their motel and shared some hilarious stories. Then we went out for some pasta and met up with Chris & Chris for a late night of conversation. I got in a little before midnight, feeling completely exhausted. I'm meeting Dowds outside Bike Surgeon at 10:30am tomorrow morning and we'll try to catch up with Chris and Callum in Ozora, Missourri. I just hope I can keep pace with my triathlete friend.

Day 18: Sebree, KY to Golconda, IL (78 Miles)

2009-07-18T20:40:00.001-04:00

Today was a difficult one... not physically, but emotionally. After slowly waking up and not feeling motivated to move, we headed down to the local dairy bar for breakfast and goodbye's to Jonathan. It was really tough to see him go. I had become very comfortable with the idea of having a riding buddy, to share in the beauty and disasters on the road. It was also great to switch off drafting one another and helping each other in the little things. In any case, with a hug and wave... he was gone.

Feeling a little somber, I rode on with Chris and Chris during the morning. We kept good pace until we arrived into Clay, KY. Apparently, I must have not heard them stopping and I rode on ahead. Realizing I was alone, I stopped for a pee-break and hung out for about 5 minutes. After no signs of my friends, I reluctantly pushed on alone. It was quite the melancholy morning. It was actually cool and I wore my windbreaker throughout sections of the trip. I stopped at a Subway in Marion, KY for some luncheon and free WiFi. It turns out there's a motorcycle convention in the area, so the entire parking lot was filled with leather-clad people on Harleys, Hondas, Yamahas, BMWs, etc.

After spending a long time updating some blog stuff and slowly eating my sandwich, I packed everything up and headed north towards the Illinois border. To get out of Kentucky (which I was more than glad to do), I had to cross the Ohio River on a ferry. The ride was free, but the wait was long. After loading onto the ferry with motorcyclists giving me strange looks, we slowly floated towards Cave In Rock, Illinois. It felt great to be done with another state and the ferry ride was a refreshing break from riding across benchmarks. After some extremely tough/steep hills, I turned off to my final destination of the day (or so I thought), Tower Rock Recreation Area. When I rode down an extremely steep hill towards the site, I found a small sign reading that the campgrounds was closed due to an “ice storm.” So I'm assuming that either Illinois gets some nasty freezing rain in July or the park management is really lazy... who knows?

Climbing/cussing up the toughest hill of my trip, I turned my eyes towards Elizabethtown. Feeling exhausted from three prior substantial rides, I finally reached town only to find “No Vacancy” in either the Hotel or B&B. After talking with the sweet lady at the Rose Hotel and explaining my need for a place to stay for the evening, she called ahead to San Damiano, a Catholic retreat center outside of Golconda. She also recommended picking up a deli sandwich at the shop next door, because “there's nothing out there.” I did and feeling a little refreshed, I headed west along IL 146.

After feeling helplessly lost for about an hour, I finally found San Damiano and was given shelter in a small cabin overlooking the Ohio River. This place is both exquisite and incredibly creepy. The cabin I'm staying in features a small television that only shows static channels, a dripping sink, blinking lamps, and dark/scary colors. I'm feeling very alone right now and a bit scared. I miss home. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss my dog. I can't call anyone because Sprint doesn't have coverage for this area and there's no internet either. I just want to hear a familiar voice or read a letter from a friend. This was a difficult day...

Day 17: Big Clifty, KY to Sebree, KY (96 Miles)

2009-07-17T22:56:00.002-04:00

An incredible thunder storm woke me up a little after 4 in the morning. I could hear the distant thunder and I kept watching the semi-constant flickering of distant lightening. Minutes later, the wind began to shake my tent... so much so that it felt I was going to fly away with it. Luckily, I kept my tent grounded and then the torrential downpour and close lightening strikes had me curled into the fetal position inside my sleeping bag. Thankfully, the storm began to pass when my wristwatch alarm clock began beeping. All four of us instinctively grabbed our stuff and tents and brought them under the store awning. As we finished our groggy morning activities, another storm cell came rolling through.

Arnold came around at 6:00am to open up the shop and to cook some delicious morning biscuits. We hung out with the locals for about an hour and took off together. It was nice to ride with Chris & Chris, considering we've spent almost a week hanging out in the evenings/mornings. We were aware that today's trip was going to be a long one, so we kept a nice steady pace throughout the morning. We stopped in at a breakfast diner in close proximity to a large dam and gobbled down some eggs, hash browns, biscuits, etc., and got back on the road promptly.

Earlier in the day, we met a retired couple riding eastbound and they explained that they first hiked the Appalachians when they first retired and this was the next logical step. Good on them, I say! So, as we were finishing out the early morning climbs east of Utica, my chain kicked out as I was switching into my smaller ring. I stopped to put the chain back on and next thing I knew, there was a tongue frantically licking my nose and forehead. I looked up to find an adorable lab/mutt-mix, which had to be only 8 or 9 months old, staring at me with a crooked smile. I hung out with the pup for a few seconds and gave it a good petting. After I started to bike away, I looked back to find the dog jogging behind me up the hill. As I came upon the crest and descended the next hill, I looked back to find the dog running in full sprint behind me. This persistent pup kept with me for at least 3 miles until I found Chris, Chris, and Jonathan waiting for me. I fed the dog some granola and attempted to tell him to go home (if he had one, that is.)

After realizing he wasn't going to give up his friendly pursuit, we had to bike fast in the attempt to lose the dog. After sprinting for a half mile, I looked back and saw this little brown dot about 500 yards running at full sprint... until finally, I couldn't see him anymore... it was quite the sad moment. I could tell by the way it approached my cycling friends, that it had to be mistreated by its owners. I keep thinking about this dog and my precious little time with it. It's been on my mind all day. I hope it made it home or, better yet, found a new loving family on the road...

Anyways, we stopped into Whitesville and took full advantage of an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. With full stomachs, we were excited to finish out the day on the (relatively) flat landscape leading into Sebree. However, a strong headwind of 15mph, with gusts up to 20mph, slowed us down considerably. Every time we attempted to create momentum on short downhills, the wind would stop us in our tracks. What could have been an easy 2 hour ride into Sebree, turned into a grueling 3 hours of fighting the wind. I'm hopeful that Kansas won't have these kind of winds, but the realist in me knows that it's highly probable. In addition, we met another rider heading east by the name of Bob Stoner (that's his real name). He warned us of bugs in the Ozarks and some steep, crawling climbs. For some odd reason, I thought the majority of climbs was behind me until I arrive at the glorious Rocky Mountains. Oh well, each tolling ascent has it's exciting descent.

To make things more challenging, I developed a painful cramp on my upper left leg. Pushing with mostly my right leg, I began to trail behind the rest of the group. I told them to take off ahead and I kept up my steady/painful pace. After a long and windy straight crawl into town, I pulled into the Baptist Church parking lot to find the pastor talking with my friends. We found an amazing place to stay for the night and all we had to pay for was by listening to the pastor's evangelical spiel and read some tracts. I've realized that Southern Baptists try to evangelize a lot more than others I've stayed with (Methodist, Presbyterian, etc.). Anyways, it was well worth it because we were given shelter, mattresses to throw our sleeping bags on, and the biggest meal of the trip! The pastor's wife cooked the biggest spread I've seen, even compared to most Thanksgiving dinners. After stuffing our faces and getting to know the family, we finished drying out our damp tents, washes some clothes and called it a night. Jonathan is leaving tomorrow morning to head towards Indiana to catch a greyhound bus home. I'm going to miss my drafting/singing buddy.

Day 16: Bardstown, KY to Big Clifty, KY (71.5 Miles)

2009-07-16T21:14:00.009-04:00

I sure reckon' we were gonna have a better day, but it so has it when we took off from Bardstown, I find my front wheel a-wobblin'. Turns out I had done broke a spoke! Ooooh boy! Jonathan sure fixed it something real good. I brought me some spare spokes and fixed her up, in less than thirty buddy. Oooh lawdy.

Sorry, I'll try to stop writing like that. I'm writing this from “Double L's Country Store,” which is located somewhere near the border of Breckinridge County... which also marks the change over to Central Time Zone. I'm surrounded by the locals: Arnold, Floyd, and Carl... good people. Their thick accents have definitely rubbed off on me. Instead of asking: “Hey Arnold, how much are those biscuits?” I'm more inclined to ask: “Hey man, how much them biscuits?” We're fixing up some dinner and camping outside the store tonight. It's a nice end to a hot/humid day. I now understand why they call it bluegrass: the oppressive humidity makes everything have a blueish hue.

This morning began with a broken spoke (something I had hope I never run into on the road), yet it was a perfect time to fall upon this misfortune. Jonathan, being the bicycle mechanic enthusiast he is, was able to fix and true the tire on the field in just under thirty minutes. It would have taken me twice as long and caused much stress/anger. It was heaven-sent to be able to hand the problem over to a confident friend and simply let go. After some work, we were back on the road and left Bardstown by 9:00 AM (which is a very late start).

We kept good pace for the morning, with the overcast sky shielding us from the scorching sun. After a while, we began to hit a strong headwind that slowed us down considerably. In spite of a few serious climbs, the rest of the day was filled with rolling hills (or “roller-coaster hills,” if you prefer), which are quite fun to ride and physically taxing. We met up with the Chrisses along the way and rode with them to our final resting point. All-in-all, it was quite an uneventful day of riding.. especially in comparison to yesterday. Nevertheless, the evening was quite remarkable and memorable.

Pulling into Double L's, you'd wonder why the map I'm following lists this as a campsite/hostel. It looks like a small county store. However, upon closer inspection you'll find that the owner, Arnold, is the funniest/kindest man you'll meet in Kentucky. He loves meeting cyclists and allows them to use his shower in the back, lounge around, and even cooks food for them. Tonight was no exception. Jonathan, Chris, Chris, and I were treated with a wonderful dinner and a game of “Corn Hole.” I've never played the game before, but took an instant liking to the sport. We played late into the evening, truly not caring about our 5:00am wake up time.

It was great getting to know these complex people and their stories in the midst of “simple” settings. How often do you stop and get to really know a stranger? If you answered: “Often!”... then you are blessed, my friend. I'm beginning to wonder why people are so closed within the privacy of their daily lives, yet it takes silly things like riding your bike across a continent or walking over mountains to allow for people to become so open and loving. The hospitality and genuine kindness I've seen on the road has been incredible. My only hope is to return the favor in kind by opening myself and home to those outside my comfortable circle of friends. Jonathan had a great idea: “Dude, when we retire from whatever it is we're doing, we should move out on the Trans-Am and set up a really nice hostel/bike shop/community home where's it needed the most.” “Great idea,” I said.

Day 15: Berea, KY to Bardstown, KY (90 Miles +18 Off Route)

2009-07-15T21:51:00.005-04:00

"Problems galore." - This was the catchphrase for today. After resting easy in a Motel 8, Jonathan and I took off towards Bardstown (90 miles away). Realizing it was going to be a moderately challenging day, we were pumped to get going early. However, we were so motivated... that we didn't realize we were riding 9 miles off route. Reading the map, we had though we were heading on Route 595, but we were actually riding along Route 21. We then took another miscalculated turn and traveled south through Paint Lick and finally ran into two locals who explained we were heading in the wrong direction... this was soul-wrenching.

After doubling back, we couldn't find any place for a hot breakfast... so we had to sustain on peanut butter crackers and granola. After stopping at a local store outside of Kirksville, Jonathan then realized his rear tire was incredibly low in pressure. We soon found that a bent sewing needle had found its way into his inner-tube. After cursing for the next 5 minutes and fixing the tire, I commented to Jonathan: "You know, these things come in three's." We then began to brainstorm what else could go wrong...

After riding another 10 miles, Jonathan's rear tire began to deflate again. After riding for another 30 miles with pump-breaks, we decided that it was best to patch both tires. Jonathan, the smart kid he is, only brought one spare tube and no patching kit. So I lent him my kit and I then took off 4 miles ahead to find a place to rest and possibly intake some food. After arriving, I felt a few rain drops and called Jonathan to inform him of the approaching wetness. Before I knew it, an epic thunder storm was directly over head. Poor Jonathan, frantically patching his tires and dodging lightening bolts, finally arrived to Burgin to join me for lunch. Laughing at this predicament, we thought our problems were over...

We met another rider, Josh, a special education teacher in Brooklyn, NY. Josh was riding an all-carbon fiber bike (super light) with nothing but a backpack. He's staying in motels/hotels every night and allows for him to keep a steady pace of 100 miles a day. He's planning on arriving into San Francisco by August 15th. We rode with Josh for the rest of the afternoon. We rode through the Lincoln Homestead Park, which is now modified into a posh golf course. Go America!

As we pulled onto highway 555, we then began to become swarmed by bugs of Biblical proportions. As we rode down through hills, a literal wall of these nats would be there to collide with out faces, shirts, bikes, etc. I must have swallowed a hundred bugs. We pulled intoBardstown a little bit before 8:00pm, covered in bug guts, sweat, and tears. We grabbed some Chinese food and then met Chris & Chris at "My Old Kentucky Home" State Park and set up our tents, showered, and collapsed.

It's the morning after and I'm in a McDonalds right now, having to pay 3 bucks for internet! Damn capitalism! To add insult to injury, this paid-for WiFi won't allow me to upload images via blogger (I'll try to upload some later) and there's country music blaring over the house speakers with lyrics like "I love mustard on my fries and, hell yes, I love my truck, but not as much as I love you," and "No shoes? No shirt? No problem!" Jonathan's in the bathroom using their sink to fix up his other tube and I'm glad this day is finally behind us. Here's to a better day!

Day 14: Booneville, KY to Berea, KY (56 Miles)

2009-07-14T18:49:00.001-04:00

Looks like today was a "Plan B" kind of day. In spite of breaking camp early and getting some caffeine into our systems, we still met a few steep climbs that sapped us of our energy. Jonathan didn't get a good night's rest and was really struggling the entire morning. We stopped often for some granola and fruit; however, we didn't find some warm food until 10 miles out from our final destination!

The highlight of today was the final downhill ride out of the Appalachians. It probably only lasted 5 minutes, but it felt like a splendid eternity. Knowing that the long and grueling climbs around steep switchbacks are now behind me is a blessing, to say the least. The rest of the morning was spent cruising along Madison County (sadly, we didn't cross any covered bridges) and taking intermittent breaks for Jonathan to coax his legs into functioning more. We soon realized that Berea was going to be our final destination. About 10 miles out from town, we stopped in at a local gas station & hot/cold deli for an early lunch. Jonathan chowed down on a humongous double bacon cheese burger... it was impressive. About 20 minutes later, Chris and Chris joined us. We then called around for rates of local motels and found a pretty inexpensive option just west of town.

We rolled into Berea at noon and noticed the stark contrast of this progressive little town compared to the outskirts leading up to it. It's fascinating what a small liberal arts college can do to transform the culture of an area. Anyways, we said our (temporary, I'm sure) goodbyes to the Chrisses and planned on meeting up with them again in Bardstown (they're having a long day today, and a short one tomorrow.) On our way to the motel, we marked any interesting points to check out later. We then checked in, showered up, and I began the long process of updating old blog posts into this here website thing. Jonathan relaxed and put on a ridiculous movie on the telly. Afterwards, we headed into town for dinner and met up with some eastbound riders that gave us a few tips and we tried our best to return the favor. After walking around the campus and finding that the camera battery died out on us, we headed back to the room. Jonathan's out right now looking for a grocery store and I'm trying my best to frantically update this quickie-post and finish up some Kentucky-centric post-cards.

Tomorrow shall be long and grueling, so I'm calling on all forces of air conditioning, soft sheets, and warm dreams of lovers past and future to lull me into a deep and recovering sleep! G'night.

Day 13: Hindman, KY to Booneville, KY (65.5 Miles)

2009-07-13T20:53:00.009-04:00

There was no bed... but, oh, there was a breakfast! We walked down from the greenhouse at 6:00am to find his patio table absolutely covered with fruits, cereals, juices, etc. It was a feast. We joined Chris & Chris for our morning intake of energy, then thanked Dave for his wonderful hospitality and took off close to 7:00am. The morning ride was nothing but perfect: a gradual downhill grade through foggy cliff sides. The traffic was light and we shared the road, drafting off one another and talking about the "old times." Our ride was rudely interrupted when we joined onto Route 80, a.k.a. the worst road in Kentucky. It was a four lane, 65 mph highway with a shoulder littered with broken glass, metal, litter, and rocks. It really reminded me of "Hell's Highway" in the outskirts of Naples, Italy... only more hilly. We probably only spent 45 minutes on this road, but it felt slow and miserable.

Routes 80 and 15 were not enjoyable in the least bit, but the rest of the ride through Chavies ("We got a nasty case of the Chavies") was nice and rural, albeit mountainous. We stopped in at a diner in Buckhorn for some lunch and a power outlet to recharge my camera battery. Afterwards, we set off through a river basin that led us into our final destination of the day, Booneville. We found a place to camp behind the Presbyterian church just outside of town, used their water spicket to shower, and then stuck around for the arrival of Chris & Chris (who had taken off from Hindman about an hour after us). We then walked down to the public library, conveniently located in a shopping mall right next to the Family Dollar Store. We then ate at a small smokey diner (I guess they don't have public smoking laws in Kentucky) and lounged around for the rest of the evening with the Chrisses.

Our plan for tomorrow is this: Either we: (A) Bike an excess of 90 miles to Harrodsburg, or (B) take an easy morning ride to Berea. Depending on the last remnants of the Appalachians, we'll have to see how we're feeling by the time we get to Berea. Reading the maps I've been using, it informs the reader: "Berea is the Trans-America Trail's gateway to the Appalachians." The maps cater towards east bounders more than those who travel west, so I must conclude that Berea will be the final exit of steep mountainous terrain (for the time being, at least).

I hope you all appreciate these blog posts... the last thing I want to do after a long day of riding is taking out this little netbook and utilizing my soar little piggies to write these words to you all. Also, I should apologize for the inconsistency of updating these posts... most places here in Kentucky are allergic to technology... oh, there I go again... bashing Kentucky (In all actuality, I've heard the further west you ride, the nicer the state becomes). Dave was mentioning that their "dry counties" are usually the worst in terms of crime, poverty, and drug use.... interesting correlation, eh?

Day 12: Breaks, VA to Hindman, KY (69.5 Miles)

2009-07-12T21:54:00.005-04:00

Breaking camp before dawn is the last thing you want to do to start the morning. Therefore, I brewed some coffee that motivated us enough to get moving and ready for the road by 6:30AM. We gave our hugs of goodbye to Gregory and departed from the hilly confines of Breaks Insterstate Park. We began to descend down a mountain with the sun beginning to cut through the morning fog -- it was a great introduction for Jonathan. Before we knew it, we arrived at the Kentucky border.

Listen, I don't like to vilify an entire state, but Kentucky is a horrible place. Within miles after crossing the border, people became less hospitable/friendly, roads became far more rough with broken pavement, the trucks became louder with Confederate flags adorned proudly, and the weather became far more muggy. Jonathan and I commented that the topography, road-side brush fires, and copious amount of litter reminded us of the outskirts of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. There's no leash laws in Kentucky, which wouldn't be a problem if their owners didn't train them to be very angry beasts. I'm a dog lover and it breaks my heart to have to frantically avoid bite marks on my legs. Of course, there were exceptions... including this friendly pup pictured below. In spite of their intent (innocent or malice), I haven't "sprayed" a dog and don't plan on doing so. I shouldn't punish the dogs with deterrent pepper spray, I should spray their owners for lack of proper pet stewardship!

Today and tomorrow are the last days of facing the challenging climbs that are the Appalachian Mountains. We spent the morning on a relatively flat area, taking turns drafting one another and stopped in at a small grocery store for some hot biscuits and orange juice. We ran into 5 very challenging climbs and the brutal steepness of these roads were extremely unforgiving. Jonathan had a very moderate gearing ratio, which did not allow for him to take on climbs at a slower pace, thus making his climbs more challenging. Luckily for Jonathan, his load is much lighter due to his one week stay on the Trans-Am Trail. In addition, his faster climbs enabled him to take a nice breather at the top and wait for my slow-butt moving up hill like molasses in January.

I plan on only taking four days to travel through Kentucky, but we'll see how that goes. The eastern portion of this state is just as hilly and challenging as Virginia, but with less bike shops (none for 300 miles) and questionable motels. Speaking of which, I was given an early warning from Chris (of the British trio) not to stay at Motel 80 in Hindman, because it's apparently raided often for drug dealing and gunfire is also very common. Seeking an alternative, we called ahead to "Knott County Historical Society B&B." The owner answered and said the B&B was under construction, but we could set up a tent in his greenhouse. Seeing no other better alternative, we hoofed it towards Hindman.

On our way, we decided to "eat fresh" at Subway and stop for a little breather. Jonathan picked up an issue the "Lonesome Creek Times," and I'd like to share this article with you (it may give you an idea how things are done in Kentucky!): And I quote: "HINDMAN MAN INJURED IN ATV ACCIDENT: An ATV accident occured (sic), Sunday, July 5, leaving a man injured after falling off a four-wheeler. The accident occured (sic) on Middle Fork of Quicksand in the Laurel Fork area. According to Ball Creek VFD Chief David Slone, Elmer Bolen, a middle-aged man with no legs and only one arm, was riding an ATV when he fell off..." It goes on, but I think that helps provide a taste of what the local flavor is like.

Like a diamond in the rough, we stumbled upon the Knott County Historical Society B&B, only to find Dave, an eccentric home owner with many, many cats. I'm assuming the "Historical Society" part is for tax exemptions, but apparently he's the owner of it... what ever said "it" may be. In any case, we found this to be the perfect stop for the evening. After climbing up the ungodly steep hill to the B&B (without the first B), we were greeted by Dave and two ice cold sweet teas. We were soon joined by a couple from Framingham, MA. Chris and Chris. He's from London, she's from Vermont. They're a really nice couple and are riding non-touring bikes, but pulling B.O.B.'s, which are essentially trailers dragged behind the bike. Their blog can be followed here: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?o=3Tzut&doc_id=5336&v=2c. Jonathan and I had a great time getting to know them, sharing dog stories, and looking over each other's gear.

After a delicious pizza dinner, followed with an ice cream sundae, Jonathan and I headed to the greenhouse for some shut-eye. Along the way, we found a raccoon eating our leftover ice cream and Dave warned us with stories about poisonous snakes and how Kentucky is horrid with carrying anti-venom in local hospitals. Fun stuff! We plan on riding over the last mountainous area tomorrow and getting into Booneville for another well-earned rest. Sweet dreams!

Day 11: Friends Day in Breaks, VA (0 Miles)

2009-07-11T21:35:00.004-04:00

After resigning myself to not hearing from Jonathan, he rang my motel room (Sprint service is virtually non-existent out here) and told me that Greg wanted to drive him down the next day, but spend an evening at the park. Thus, I had to delay another day on the road and stick around waiting for my friends to arrive from Ohio. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, considering Breaks Interstate Park is a beautiful area and I was more than happy to loaf around in these surroundings all day. I spent the morning washing off my bike and repacking things for equal leverage. I then reserved a camp site for the evening and subsequently pitched my tent, threw my bags in it, and took off for an early afternoon of hiking along the park's many scenic trails.

On the way to trail, I stumbled upon a an old-fashioned car show. Most of the attendants at the show scoffed at my non-combustion engine contraption between my legs; however, it didn't stop me from admiring their beautiful peaces of machinery. After staring at antiquated shiny automobiles, I headed onto the trail and saw many beautiful scenic overlooks and spooked some deer from time to time. After arriving back to my site, I hung out and got to know the very friendly Steffey family (Brian, Karen, Kathleen, & Benjamin). They let me borrow their cell phone to ring Greg and Jonathan when they were running late and offered for me to stay for dinner. I would have gladly accepted, but finally the Ohio boys arrived and we took a walk down to the local restaurant for a later dinner.

It was great to see some familiar faces, especially considering I hadn't seen Greg since Easter and Jonathan since two summers ago (right after our epic Cape Cod bike trip). Jonathan pitched their tent and we walked a few miles to get some grub and got caught in a thunder storm on our way back to the campsite. We stopped in at a little shop for some Klondike bars, and Jonathan purchased a tarp for the sole purpose to cover our bikes at night, yet it came in handy as we walked under this portable canopy all the way back to the tents.

As we began to wind down after several hours of conversation/catching up, I warned Jonathan that I needed to make up this lost time and he said he was "game." Tomorrow looks to be the last of serious Appalachian mountains we'll face, so it'll be a good test for him. I hope to make it into Hindman by lunch time, but we shall see how that goes. Good night and remember to brush your teeth!!!

Oh, I almost forget to mention that there have been reports of black bears roaming the campsites at night, so I'm keeping my knife ready in case I'm able to fufill my ultimate destiny (much akin to Brad Pitt's destiny in "Legends of the Fall").

Day 10: Damascus, VA to Breaks, VA (78.5 Miles)

2009-07-10T20:43:00.001-04:00

"There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive."

- Jack London

Today marked the most physically excruciating and painfully beautiful day of my trip. I had another night of semi-sleep after lulling myself to sleep on the back porch with a book. Dan, a 70-year old retiree, bunked in the same room as me and his sleeping sounds did not allow for me to have a solid night's rest. I slowly packed everything and headed out of town during sunrise. The morning fog started to give way to reveal picturesque views. I was feeling very weak and decided to pull into "Little Diner" in Meadowview, just outside of Hayters Gap. I met some really nice people there and the waitress told me 3 funny looking Brits came rolling through yesterday morning... I laughed and explained that I was going to ride with them for a while, but had an accident. After a hearty breakfast, I took off towards the pivotal climb of my journey.

Along the way, I ran into this puppy. He may look intimidating, but I assure you: he's a real sweetheart. I stopped and played with him for a bit and then took off, with my new friend in tow. He jogged along with me for about a half mile, staying within 2 feet of me the entire time. He then became interested in smelling a fence post and I bid my farewell to my travel companion. With this distraction, I then noticed I was already close to facing the climb out of Hayters Gap. I began my ascent around 10:00am and I slowly pushed upward around every steep bend. After 45 minutes of profusely sweating, I reached the summit. As I sped down the other side, I passed a few cyclists and reassured them that they were close to the top. I reached another steep climb outside of Honaker, and another outside of Council. In fact, I kept running into very steep climbs every hour or so. It really put a toll on my legs/soul. The topography in Western VA is not very cyclist-friendly, with many steep climbs that just appear out of nowhere!

As I finally came into a series of downhill miles that led into Haysi, I was then greeted with a downpour. I threw on my rain covers and jacket and booked it into town. After some close calls with a few deep puddles, I decided to pull under some shelter outside an abandoned grocery store (there are a lot of closed businesses out here). It was then when I was greeted by George Washington Jackson, who told me his life story and the story of the town. He warned me of the climb towards Breaks, with stories of his brother getting hit by a coal truck and other motor vehicle related accidents. Shaken, but not stirred, I decided to press on when the rain began to lighten up. My body started to give out on me again; however, I finally pushed myself upwards into Breaks Interstate Park... also known as the east coast's Grand Canyon. It features some amazing rock formations that are 200 million years in the making. That stuff takes patience.

Exhausted and smelly after riding my mobile torture device for 12 hours, I decided that I needed a long shower and a soft bed. I found a pretty cheap room at the lodge with an amazing view. After freshening up as best as I could, I biked down to the park restaurant for some delicious pasta and garlic bread. Biking without the panniers on makes the Bianchi feel like a stranger to me, as if the bike will fly out from under me. Sadly, Jonathan was unable to get down this evening and we're still finding the best way to meet tomorrow. I don't have any cellphone service down here and I'm hoping to hear from him before passing out. I might sleep in a little bit tomorrow... I think I deserve it. =)

Day 9: Wytheville, VA to Damascus, VA (62 Miles)

2009-07-09T16:32:00.006-04:00

I must apologize for the complete lack of interesting photos in this blog entry. I came into contact with several thunder storms throughout the day, and for fear of destroying Nicole's camera (unnamed as of now) I decided it be best that it not be wet & wild (and by wild, I mean broken... and by wet.. I mean wet).

My plight for a good night's rest was not heard by the management above, as I tossed and turned all the live-long-night. I also kept hearing coughing and vomit sounds coming from somewhere in the near distance, but I never became interested enough to check it out. When I was leaving in the morning, it appears the culprit was a poor homeless soul wrapped in a blanket under a park gazebo. I dropped him a couple of dollars and took off around 6:30am (I was slow moving this morning).

The majority of the morning was spent climbing towards Mount Rogers (5,729 ft), and I was feeling a bit weak after an non-fulfilling night's rest and smaller dinner. So for fuel, I pulled into a breakfast diner outside of Rural Retreat and attempted to translate a conversation between two farmers. Their southern "twang" (dialect) was so thick, I could only comprehend a few words in each sentence... mostly curse words. After finishing the plate (well, except the "gravy biscuit," that I dared not try), I took off again feeling more full of energy. The climb towards Troutdale looked daunting on the elevation chart, but I'm either getting stronger or the mountain has shrunk since this map was published... I'm assuming it's the latter.

The road to Damascus, in the words of McCartney, was long and winding. There was a trail called "The Virginia Creeper Trail" that followed parallel to my route and looked like a very scenic/enjoyable ride. There were buses with trailers hauling tourists/bikes up the mountain and I almost got pretty intimate with one barreling around a corner at high speeds. It began to rain for the first downhill section, but lightened up as I approached town. As I was gaining momentum around one corner, a construction crew began to block off traffic. The man with the walkie-talkie decided it'd be ok if I passed and I dodged some heavy machinery and headed downward towards Damascus. It was great having an open road behind me so that I could hog the lane and not worry about soft shoulders and other forms of broken pavement. The ride was full of winding turns, high speeds, rivers, waterfalls, and tears of joy.

I pulled into town in the early afternoon and felt alright with stopping at the signs of rapidly approaching thunder storms. I asked around for places to stay, and most told me there were Beds & Breakfasts scattered all around town. Seeking a cheaper alternative I found "The Place," a hostel for Appalachian Trail hikers and Trans-Am cyclists. It's a nice little house, fully equipped with showers, bunks, books, and a back porch. I showered up and then found that one of my shampoo bottles was not fully sealed and had leaked all into my toiletries bag. I then washed/aired everything out and then met a few hikers and shared some stories. I asked if there was any free WiFi around town, and they recommended me going to the small library downtown. So, I'm tucked away here now and waiting out the rain. I've got a difficult day tomorrow. Hayter's gap lies ahead and I'm going to try to make it to Breaks Interstate Park to meet Jonathan & Greg (who are driving down from Ohio) and set up camp there. I'm looking forward to biking beside a friend, I'm getting a little tired of talking to myself.

Day 8: Blacksburg, VA to Wytheville, VA (64.5 Miles)

2009-07-08T21:56:00.003-04:00

I'm on the road again and man, does it feel good! I turned off my wrist watch alarm clock so that I could sleep in until checkout, but my eternal alarm clock kicked me out of bed by 6:00am. I spent the morning writing postcards and watching bad infomercials. After another long shower, I packed everything up and rode my wobbly bike down to East Coasters. I left my stuff there and walked over to a cafe for a morning bagel and coffee. At around noon, the new rim came in and Ian started working on attaching it to the hub they had in stock. After some stress testing, the wheel was good to go. I gave my thanks Hudson, Ian, and the rest of the friendly people at the shop and finally got back on the road at 12:30pm.

It felt great to be back on a properly functioning bike. Even though I was a day and a half behind schedule.. I felt good. The majority of the day was filled with gradual climbs up to 4,000 feet through narrow valleys. The more I ride, the more I become familiar with the road. I can tell you how different types of cement/pavement affects the ride; and I can tell you what type of road kill lies 20 yards ahead, whether it be domestic or wild, fresh or decaying, etc. - Sure it's worthless knowledge to most people, but I've put it to good use.

I stopped at a Sonic Drive-Inn for lunch. It was my first time there and I was a bit disappointed when my waitress did not arrive on roller skates. It was then when I discovered the best alternative to soda for cycling... sweet tea. It's got all the sugar you need and it doesn't dehydrate you and gives you a little caffeine boost. So, I slurped up some iced tea and gobbled down some more unhealthy food and got back on the road in no time. Riding through the afternoon heat is not desirable. Luckily, I picked a relatively cooler day to do so. After about 6 hours of riding, I pulled into a small mountain town called Wytheville. It was already getting dark, so I went over to the local police department and asked if I could set up a tent in their town park. They not only said "Yes, you can." But they also gave me a key to the bathroom, which I found to be quite disgusting... I can stomach most things, but the condition of this restroom was much akin to the jail cells during the Irish hunger strike. Ick.

Anyways, I pitched up the tent in a little spot near a creek and tried to get some shut-eye. After realizing I had set up the tent over a small tree root that enjoyed wedging itself into my back, I decided it was not worth the effort of moving the tent. Now I'm hoping the babbling brook will lull me into a deep sleep, so that I may rise early for my ride into Damascus. G'night.

Day 7: Stranded in Blacksburg, VA (0 Miles)

2009-07-07T17:38:00.007-04:00

And on the seventh day... Blake was stranded.

I was awoken this morning with Hudson's cat sporadically assaulting my tent. I was a bit groggy waking up, in spite of getting to bed at a decent time. I hung out with Hudson for a bit last night and he gave me a little tour of his stomping grounds. It's a college town, a little college known as Virginia Tech. Maybe you've heard of it? Sadly, it became widely known after the school shooting of 2007, a time in which Hudson describes as “a really, really horrible time.” Anyways, I didn't want to burden my new friend on his day off from the bike shop, so I packed up my tent early and headed down to a local cafe to wait around for my check-in time at a cheap motel. Another town, another Red Carpet Inn.

I'm not too worried about my budget, despite this accident costing me well over a hundred bucks to fix and the extra cost of eating, sleeping in a bed, etc. I feel like I've set enough aside to account for these mishaps. Conversely, I am starting to worry about my time frame. I would have liked to be closer to Kentucky by now, but I'm at least 3 days out. I'm hopeful that my pacing will pick up once I get out of the Appalachians. From reading the elevation charts, it appears that the most difficult climbs still lay in front of me. One particular climb out of “Hayter's Gap” has me climbing 1,500 feet in under 5 miles. Yikes!

I also met a lovely girl at the cafe named “Matty” and she helped me with directions to the motel. We talked for a bit and she wished me well on my journey. Matty, if you're somehow reading this.. you're very kind and beautiful. I wouldn't say that to your face, but my internet honesty/machismo is second to none!

I checked into the motel some time around noon and took a pleasant shower. I then walked around for a few hours. I spent some time at the dollar store, where I picked up some shoe laces, fingernail clippers, and more granola bars. I then walked over to a sporting goods store and spent more money than I should have on some other camping “essentials.” Following that, I spent a few hours in a Barnes & Noble-esque store, judging books by their covers and sipping on a frozen treat. I found many modern classics as you can see below...

I then started an epic search for post-cards... which proved to be more difficult than I had imagined. I searched grocery stores and pharmacy stores alike. Finally, I was tipped off by a kind lady that the Virginia Tech bookstore might carry some. I then took a nice 3 mile walk to the store... and it was nice to utilize other muscles for a change. Uncle Jamie gave me a ring and it was nice to talk with him. After the postage cards were purchased, I headed back to the room to watch the Michael Jackson music video marathon on BET and to sort out my gear. As I was putting in the new/proper coffee filter in the lightweight mug May lent to me, I found it was destroyed in the accident yesterday. I'll have to run back to the sporting goods store before dinner... maybe I'll call for a hooptie ride?

Day 6: Lexington, VA to Blacksburg, VA (86 Miles +7 Off Route)

2009-07-06T18:23:00.027-04:00

I'm not a superstitious person. Nonetheless, I still think my birthday is cursed. I've always had the worst birthdays, well not always - but at least they've been plagued by some mishap or the other. I figured I could outsmart fate by not riding at all yesterday; however, fate is very patient and always waiting for you. I'm writing this entry from "Mill Mountain Coffee & Tea" in Blacksburg, VA... via a undesirable circumstance. Blacksburg isn't on the route... in fact, it's a nice 2,000 ft climb off the route. I'm here because of great misfortune, but I'll get to that in a bit.

I could hardly sleep last night. Maybe it was foresight of disaster? Or maybe it was the crappy Chinese food I had before falling asleep. In any case, I decided to not wait for the alarm and left the motel room around 5:15AM and put my lamps to good use. It was a nice ride out of Lexington (the morning is by far the best time to ride). There were gradual descents through a narrow valley, allowing for me to make good time before the midday heat started baring down. My morning was complete with a field of cows running alongside me and a quick stop for a breakfast biscuit at a Buchanan Ma & Pop Store which resembled a house, fully equipped with a stove top that she cooked on in the kitchen.

It was starting to be a nice day and then it happened... I was coming down Gravelly Ridge, right outside Daleville, and a blind turn appeared as I was traveling around 35mph through a bend. I tried to hit my brakes gradually to slow down, but I made the mistake of attempting to turn and my back tire began to fishtail. Next thing I knew, I was sliding across the cement towards the edge of the road (where there was a nasty drop off). Luckily, I stopped sliding after about 20 yards and tried to collect myself. I remember saying to myself: "Get up, man... you're alright. Get up!" I then began to survey the damage. I had some pretty harsh road rash on my left leg and arm, a broken shoe lace, and a ripped rear pannier. "Not bad," I thought and then I attempted to push my bike to the side of the road.

That's when I heard the squeal. My rear tire was jamming up against the brakes... something I thought could be fixed by just readjusting the quick release. I soon realized the tire was completely bent. Several of the spokes were completely loose and the tire was jammed against the frame of the bike. After some maneuvers, I was able to get the wheel loose and I began trying to "true" the rim as much as possible (this means to straighten the outer rim by adjusting the tension of the spokes). After about a half hour of work and little improvement, a sweet couple riding a tandem bicycle came across the scene of the accident. They were just starting a week tour and were quick to help me. After another 20 minutes of working the tire, we were able to make the wheel somewhat rideable. They took off and I attempted to fix the "bounce" of the tire... which, to my surprise, actually worked.

I then set off (awkwardly) towards an area with cell phone reception (there's many places without any service what-so-ever). The major problem with the rear wheel was the complete absence of rear brakes. Thus, I had to become more conservative with my momentum and made climbing hills all the more difficult. After another 30 miles, I was able to contact "East Coasters Bicycle Shop" in Blacksburg, VA. Had I known that Blacksburg was on a mountain ridge, I probably would have reconsidered varying off route. After more panting/sweating, I pulled in at around 4:30 and handed my bike over, expecting a full-recovery of the Bianchi.

However, in spite of having some of the nicest people on the planet, they were unable to fix the rim and/or supply a proper rim. After some brain-storming, Hudson decided we could build a Frankenstein wheel... made of several different parts. But, here's the clincher: a crucial part would not arrive until Wednesday. So, until then I am stranded in Blacksburg. It's a major disappointment to me, because I wanted to get a lot of miles behind me these next few days... and possibly ride along with Callum, Dowds, and Chris as well. Nevertheless, Hudson offered for me to camp in his backyard and I kindly took him up on his offer. I then rode over and met "S***rock," their mo-hawked cat. I'm a dog person, but man... this cat is a fantastic creature. I've never met such a friendly, curious, and bike-friendly cat ever. I then set up my tent, washed up real quick using their sink, and headed into town for a bite and some WiFi.

I could be angry with the way things went today, but I'm trying my best to roll with the punches. Hopefully, I can make the most out of my unintentional stay in Blacksburg and not mope all day tomorrow. I figured I would meet trials and tribulations on the road... just not this early.

Day 5: Rest Day in Lexington, VA (0 Miles)

2009-07-05T17:03:00.012-04:00

Looks like I picked a good day for stopping... it's raining felines and canines outside. I (relatively) slept in late this morning and hung out in the motel lobby for a bit, where the owner said "Happy Birthday" to me and gave me a donut. I spent a good amount time uploading yesterday's blog and talking with friends/family on the phone. Afterward, I met three guys from the UK who were taking 3 months to bike from Maryland to California. Chris, Dowds, and Callum are attempting to average 60 miles a day and can be followed from this here web log: http://transam2009.com/. They're friends who met at University and are on summer break and are biking for the fun of it, oh and for Motor Neurone Disease. It was nice to meet others to swap stories from the road and talk over logistics.

Oh, and as a matter of coincidence: Callum's birthday is today as well.

I spent the rest of the morning watching some silly movie with Jack Nicholson as a werewolf, tweaking my front derailleur and waiting out for the rain to shift from torrential to sprinkles so that I could ride out into town this afternoon. I got bored/hungry and ordered in some Chinese food, just about the same time Chris came by and told me they were walking over for the buffet. I didn't mind the bad timing though, I'm not one for walking down busy streets in the midst of rain storm. After a full belly, I took an obligated post-feast nap and woke up to surf some channels and I discovered something. I think I now know why FOX News is labeled "America's #1 Trusted News Source." Apparently, it's the only news source available on most television sets I've encountered in the south. Flipping through, I noticed the complete absence of competition. Sounds pretty unfair and unbalanced, doesn't it?

Anyways, political tirade aside... the rain gave up it's relentless attack on the ground towards the evening and the fellow cyclists and I took a walk down to the local theater to catch a flick. Sadly, the only films being shown were Michael Bay's masterpiece "Transformers 2," Sandra Bullock's swan song, and the numberless sequel to the "Ice Age" franchise. We chose the lesser of the evils and watched the animated film. It was pretty harmless, albeit anachronistic, and the always reliable Simon Pegg brought on a few laughs. Afterwards, we stopped off at Parking In Rear, but they stopped serving food right before we arrived... then I called it an early evening to return to my room for leftovers as the trio went in search for food. On my walk back to the motel, I was treated to a beautiful natural fireworks display beside a creek. Hundreds of fireflies sporadically infused their bulbs in synchronous fashion. It was a wonderful end to a good birthday. Now I'm going to pack up before falling asleep, so that I may get off early (I've got many miles to cover tomorrow). Cheers!