Epilogue

Well, we're done. You'd think that after six weeks (it took us exactly 42 days) of biking the finale would be more satisfying. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to reach our goal; however, there was also a part of me that felt a little melancholy. As I've said before, the lifestyle of bicycle touring is a blast. You wake up, get on the bike, and go. You're a wanderer on wheels.

So let me give you the details on the last few days of our ride. From Marion, we hit Wytheville, where a multitude of friends and family met us, and a couple joined us for the last leg of our journey. Lee's parents and his brother, Adam, our friend Josh and his mother, and a childhood friend of mine, Chad, all converged on the city. Chad and Adam became participants in our biking fun for a few days (Chad for two days and Adam finished with us).

We set out from Wytheville with our new companions, now, instead of a measly three cyclists, a staggering five. We were more like a gang than tourers. From Wytheville to Lexington, our ride consisted almost solely of country roads, and it was some of the most enjoyable terrain of the trip. Our last climb of the trip took place on July 4th as we climbed up to the Blue Ridge Parkway on our way to Charlottesville. We spent the 4th in Charlottesville, and on the 5th made our 126 mile push to Washington D.C. But hey, what would our final day be without some bicycle trouble?

About 30 miles into the day, Lee's gear cable for his rear derailleur broke. In other words, Lee could not shift out of his highest rear gear, which makes any hill difficult to climb. Instead of being able to enjoyably shift down and easily pedal up the hill, he had to stay in the high gear, and pump up the hill standing on his bike and putting all his energy into it. Sure, it made him move up the hills at a nice little clip, but it's an incredibly tiresome way to ride. Well, luckily the terrain was not too hilly, so he was able to limp it in to a bike shop in Fredericksburg. We rode from Fredericksburg to D.C. on Route 1 and made it across the Potomac and into the city at sunset...our journey complete.

That was Monday, the 5th, and now it's Saturday. I'm sorry for the delay, but laziness got the better part of me. So what's happened since our finish? The Herald Dispatch in Huntington did a story on us, front page I might add. Adjusting to normal life has not been too difficult, but it hasn't been too easy either. Now instead of being happily unaware of Lebron's Decision, the oil spill, and the economy, it's all you hear about. Well, c'est la vie (I speak French in Russian).

As is probably readily apparent, adventure's like this are as much about the journey as they are about the accomplishment. The stories you hear and share, the people you meet, and the places you stay along the way are as important as the place you end up. The nice thing about cycling is that it forces you to slow down. When we remove ourselves out of the rat race we call life, it's amazing what you see. I'm gonna be honest, there are tons of ways to do this, cross country bicycle journeys is only one (and an extreme one at that). Chill under a tree or on a bench or walk in the woods and take a second to enjoy the places in between.

So I guess if this were a book, this post would be the epilogue, so that's my title. I will try and link some more pictures to this page, but this is the last post. I'd like to thank all of you that have been following us on here and keeping us in your thoughts and prayers. You're comments have been encouraging and hopefully reading this hasn't been too much of a drag.

There's No Place Like Home

It has been 10 days since my post from Missouri and life has continued to be just grand. From Missouri, into Illinois, on to Kentucky, and now we're in Marion, Virginia, the last state of the trip and it still hasn’t sunk in as to how far we’ve come or really what we’re doing.

Things have been kind of eventful. After we finished up at the library in Houston we went to a movie, The A-Team. Liam Neeson and Bradley Cooper managed to keep us awaking with their performances, which I should say is a challenge any time you give us a dark room and comfy chairs. The next day we hit Centreville where we camped in the city park and met a group of 25 supported riders that were biking to raise support for multiple schlerosis research (check them out at http://biketheusforms.org/).

Then we hit Illinois. Crossing the Mississippi was fairly epic, more so because of the honking semi’s than the actual crossing. But seriously, we biked that far from San Francisco and they really expected us to not get a picture? We stayed that night in Chester, IL, at the Fraternal Order of the Eagle. FOE is well, hard to describe. I guess it’s like a fraternity (hence the name) for people not in college. Anyhow, they had an air conditioned bunkhouse and shower for cyclists to use, so we took advantage of the (free) accommodations they offered. The “bunks” were 8 slabs of wood, with no mattress. They weren’t incredibly comfortable, but it was air conditioned and free…you know what they (the Lebanese that is) say, "What's better than the most expensive honey? Free vinegar." The next day we headed to Carbondale, about 45 miles away, and stayed there for the night and had our bikes tuned up. We wandered the city at night, and walked through Southern Illinois University. The library at SIU was magnificent. It was honestly fun to just walk into and out of it.

Well, from Carbondale we hit Elizabethtown, IL and waited until dark and pitched our tent behind the high school there. Public high school equals public property right? From Elizabethtown, IL, we rode to Cave-In Rock, boarded a ferry at 6:30 a.m. and crossed the Ohio into Kentucky. We then made our way to Whitesville where we spent the night in the city park. We headed toward Howardstown, but ended up taking a detour.

Back in eastern Colorado we came across some fellow eastbounders riding to raise money for Alzheimer's Research (this is their web address if your interested in their project http://fijisacrossamerica.com/). They were being supported by the parents of one of the riders for one week, until the regular driver of their support vehicle could return to his post. Wayne and Lori, the substitute drivers, told us to call them when we got to Elizabethtown, KY.

On our way to Howardstown, we came to a junction with Route 62. We stopped at a gas station there to take a break and shelter from a thunderstorm. We got out the maps and noticed that 62 would cut out about 20 miles of our journey to Bardstown, so we decided to take it. We then saw that Elizabethtown, KY, was on our way now, so we gave Wayne and Lori a call. They invited us over and of course we accepted. They ordered us pizza, let us do laundry, stay in their basement, and in the morning made us breakfast. Yeah, taking Route 62 proved to be the smart choice. Thank you Wayne and Lori.

From E’town (as it is fondly abbreviated by Kentuckians) we headed to Berea, via more shortcuts which cut out another 20 miles and allowed us to meet up with the mothers of Wes and Lee. They put us up in a hotel, took us to dinner and breakfast. Ah, the life of luxury we lead.

Berea to Chavies, which is the epitome of a coal town. We stayed in a car port next to a gas station (with permission from the owner of the place). That night turned out to be a circus. Apparently everyone in town comes to the parking lot of Quik Mart to hang out at all hours of the night. First, the five people trying to get a car started, then boisterous social club that meets on the front steps on a nightly basis…even the dogs in town came out. Fun times.

The next day we headed to Elkhorn City, KY. Let me give a shout out to the dogs in Kentucky. They’re energetic, playful, and will chase you to no end; however, they are not the hardened killers the riders heading west made them sound out to be. We (I specifically) did have a little run in (literally) with a dog this day.

We were riding, myself and Wes ahead of Lee a little ways, when a couple dogs started chasing Wes. I was catty-corner behind him on the right side, about 15 feet back. A dog was on his right hip chasing and barking. Well, all of a sudden the canine decided to turn and jumped directly in front of me. Now I have lightning fast reflexes….but I could do nothing. I hit the dog square in the side at 15 mph. I don’t know if you know this, but it is possible to actually ramp off of live beings, and that’s what happened. My bike and I went flying through the air and onto the pavement where my fall was broken by my hip and elbow. The dog ran away and is hopefully okay, although I don’t think he’ll be chasing cyclists for a while. I got some cuts and bruises, but all-in-all, it could have been much worse. No serious injury to me or my bike, and hopefully the dog.

Well, we made it into Elkhorn where we enjoyed the soft grass of another city park and now we’re in Marion, VA, where my parents have met us. We’re staying in a hotel, and had dinner last night, and getting ready to head to breakfast now, so I better wrap this up soon.

We’re in the home stretch and this will probably be my second-to-last post. Don’t worry avid readers there will be a final chapter! Anywho, when we planned the trip, we decided to go West to East for a number of reasons, but the biggest one was simply the fact that we would be biking home, and it has made all the difference. It’s like a marathon where you have a friend run the last few miles with you to keep you motivated. It has allowed us to meet up with parents and friends (today we’re meeting more in Wytheville). The best part of any journey is the homecoming. Sure, the adventures are fun, the experiences are great, but when it comes right to it, the feeling that you’re headed home beats them all.

Am I sad for this trip to end? Definitely. I love the lifestyle of city park sleeping, pop-tart eating, bike riding wanderer. But to end with a classic, “There’s no place like home.”

That's Where You Are

It's only been four days since my last post, but I figure why waste the wonderful facilities at the Texas County Public Library in Houston, Missouri.

Yes, we are now in Missouri and we have left the windy plains of Kansas. Flat tires have now surpassed a bad hair day on Wes's list of things he hates most in life and the heat that was with us in Kansas has followed us here (heat index of 105). For the past week the NWS has issued heat advisories for Kansas and Missouri, telling people it would be wise to remain indoors. Pfft, heat advisory. We've been averaging 100+ miles a day. Yeah, it's okay, you can say it, we're pro (and kinda stupid).

As I mentioned before we've begun meeting many bikers heading west. We pull to the side of the road, chat for a few minutes exchange stories and warnings of what lies ahead of each other then continue on. It's a nice break from riding and great to meet other cyclists on the route.

Many of the warnings we've received have had to do with one of three things, the Ozarks, the Appalachians, and mean dogs. Well, we're in the Ozarks, and I can say that those warnings were an exaggeration, but we're talk about that in a second. As far as the Appalachians, I'm sure their tough, but we're gonna be so close to the end at that point, I can't see "tough" keeping us from pushing on. And lastly about the dogs...well, we'll see. We've actually heard some pretty bad stories, but no one we've met has gotten bit, just chased.

We left Newton and headed to Toronto Lake a little over 100 miles away and camped at a great campsite there. From Toronto Lake we pushed to Pittsburg where we stayed at a great city park and went swimming at the city pool. Yesterday we crossed the Missiouri border, and stayed the night in Fair Grove at the Fair Grove Historical Society's facilities (they allow bikers to stay for free). We met three cyclists heading west who were also staying in Fair Grove who we chatted with for quite a while. It was an American, an Englishman, and an Australian, who had met up on the road and continued biking together. They pointed out places on the map where there might be some dogs on our route today and techniques for dealing with them (dismount and pet, ride for your life, throw rocks, pepper spray...personally I thought the pepper spray a little too much). Now we're in Houston, we decided to make it an easy day and only do 78 miles.

Now let's talk about the Ozarks. The best way to describe them is a rollercoaster, but better because you're driving and you don't have to worry about the 12 year old sitting behind you who may have had too much cotton candy. Once you get up the first hill, your momentum usually carries you up the next and so on and so forth.

While biking today, we came up to a place on the map where our friends from last night had said there was the potential of a dog attack. We usually ride a couple miles apart, each kinda maintaining their own pace, but we decided to group for this portion of the journey. We rounded the curve where the beast was supposedly lying in wait. For effect I cried, "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more," figuring Shakespeare was appropriate (I'm a little strange). I think we all had images of the dog from Sandlot in our heads. We got all psyched up for nothing, our progress remained unimpeded, and we were disappointed. We even tried whistling to see if that would bring out the hound, but alas nothing.

Each day brings it's own trouble, whether it's bad wind, flat tires, mean dogs, or just terrible heat. At times you find yourself thinking that if it just wasn't so hot, the day would be perfect. We humans spend a lot of time worrying about the things that go wrong and how they ruin our potentially perfect day. No day will ever be perfect. If life were perfect, there would be no need for heaven. Nah, better to enjoy where you're at. Contentment comes a lot easier than perfection, I think that's the thing I've been learning the most this trip.

I'd like to leave you with a two quotes. The first, I read on a wall in a Mom & Pop Restaurant: "No matter where you ride, that's where you are." The other is from one of my favorite authors, "People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they dont deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things. I don't recall I ever give the good Lord all that much cause to smile on me. But he did."

The Gun Show

Greetings from Newton, Kansas. We are still cycling on and now that we're out of the mountains and onto the plains, the mileage is coming a lot easier.

After our relaxing time in Montrose with Lee's aunt and uncle, Linda and Bob, we rejoined our beloved Route 50 and pushed on to Sargents about 100 miles away. That set us up perfectly for our biggest climb of the trip, Monarch Pass, sitting at a pretty 11,312 ft. The climb was actually not that bad and we were on the downhill before noon. Route 50 (now a not so lonely road) led us into Arkansas River Canyon. If you're in Colorado and someone says you should go on Route 50, in the Arkansas River Canyon for a pleasurable bicycle ride, don't believe them because they are actually trying to kill you. The shoulder was approximately 3 inches wide, with careening semi's and sightlines that were never adequately long enough to make you feel comfortable that the Chevy Suburban coming up behind you could actually see you. To make matters worse the wind was coming up the canyon, making our lives fairly miserable for the afternoon. However, things did look up when we left Route 50, and we found ourselves in the pleasant town of Westcliffe, CO for dinner (and the night).

We had dinner at the Feed Store Restaurant and then decided we should find a spot to camp for the evening. On the way out we were grumbling about our situation, as it looked like a storm was coming. The owner of the restaurant heard us and said she knew of a good Bed and Breakfast (she owned that as well). We replied that that was a little out of our price range. She asked us what our range was, and Wes replied, "It would be offensive if we told you." She insisted, so we told her we try to stay below $40 if we're going to stay indoors. She went and had a chat with her husband and came back and said we had a room.

The next day, Lee dropped by the Restaurant to settle our account for the room. It came up that we were planning on watching the U.S. vs. England soccer match. The owner (the husband this time) said to just watch it at their house on their large flat screen tv, so we cheered on the U.S. to a tie in style.

Well, we decided we had to leave the comfort of Westcliffe, or else we may never leave, so that afternoon we headed out over our last range of the Rockies and into a storm. Biking up the mountain was no problem, but biking down about froze our hands and feet off. The temperature had dropped into the low 40's and it was sleeting. We made it 25 miles to a town fittingly name Wetmore (the mountain's name was Wet Mountain). At a general store there we changed clothes, and discussed what are next move would be. It seemed suicidal to try to make it to Pueblo, the next town, but we also didn't want to set up camp in the rain. Thankfully we were provided with a third option which we took. The owner's of the store said we could sleep on the floor in the back. They had a t.v. with satellite hookup and so we enjoyed watching the latest James Bond movie. The coolest part was that we were allowed to eat anything we wanted, we just had to save the wrapper. It was like paradise...movies, unlimited food, it could only have been better if they had a masseuse as well at the store.

On to Pueblo the next morning. When we arrived there, I realized my rear derailleur (the part of the bike that moves the chain over the rear gears) was broken. No idea how it happened, but it need to be fixed. We went to a Vance's Bicycle World, got a new part, and then got other problems we've been having with our bikes taken care of. All-in-all we spent about 3 hours there. It was three when we finally left, and we thought we could still get out some good miles.

Five miles out of town, Wes's rear tire went flat. So we spent another thirty minutes on the side of the road changing it, because our spare tube had a problem, so the original tube had to be patched. Back on the road.

Dinner.

8:30 in the evening, 5 miles outside of Ordway, the town we had chosen to stay in for the night. Wes's front tire goes flat. Another hour spent, because we had to search in the dark for the hole to be patched.

We made it into town (miraculously having completed 81 miles even with all our problems) and met another biker who was camping in the city park (I guess I should mention that all the towns in Eastern Colorado and Kansas are incredibly cycler friendly and allow free camping in all their city parks). It was nice to chat with him, as he was coming from the East. We shared stories and then finally went to bed.

The next day we pushed hard to try to make up some of the ground we had lost. We met a group of supported tourers going west to east. It was fun to see them gaulk at our mileage especially as all their gear was being carried in their support car, while ours was on our bike. They shared their food with us and let us use their pump to top off the air in our tires (our frame pump is a pain to get to high psi's). We got to Sheridan Lake, CO (pop. 66), about 90 miles from Ordway when a storm caught up with us. It looked like something from the movie Twister, minus the flying cows. The town had a church whose pastor graciously allowed us to stay in their nursery. We cooked spaghetti and Mac 'n Cheese and had a good night sleep.

The next day we set out at 6:00 a.m. with a sweet tailwind. Let me explain how a wind works with biking. Headwind equals worst situation possible. It's something like trying to ride directly into a wall (not something I have much experience with, although as a child I did once have some when switching from pedal brakes to hand brakes that resulted with me riding into a wall, but I digress). A tailwind is heavenly and crosswinds aren't as bad as a headwind, but they too can be annoying as it takes extra energy to keep the bike on the road and you often find yourself riding sideways.

The tailwind helped us to a fast 30 miles in less than 90 minutes. We stopped in for breakfast, and got back on the road. By 3:00 p.m. we had done 101 miles. We stopped for a late lunch/early dinner, took a break, and did another 32 miles, which put us in Ness City with our longest day yet, 133 miles.

While we were riding, Wes had two more flats, and we actually had to limp it in to Ness City, periodically pumping his front tire. Well, in Ness City we met Keith and Jan. Keith is riding cross country as well, with his wife supporting him with their truck/camper. Well, we got to talking at the city park where we were all camping for the night and he hooked us up with some tubes for Wes's bike. Well, we were thankful to say the least. We took pictures together, chatted some more and then split up for the evening.

The next day, Keith caught up to us 12 miles in and we rode together the rest of the day to Larned. Wes was having an incredibly unlucky week with his bike. On the edge of Larned his rack on his bike collapsed (we each have a rack on our bike that carries all of our gear). Well, we had planned on going past Larned, since it only put us at 66 miles. We ended up staying the night in the city park. Keith and Jan saved us once again. They offered to carry our gear the 58 miles to Nickerson in their truck, where there was a bike shop within 10 miles, and then drive us to the bike shop. Well, that sounded just about perfect so we stayed the night in Larned, got up rode with Keith to Nickerson, got the ride to the bike shop, got a new rack for Wes and other needed items.

Let me talk about Keith and Jan. They were awesome. Keith helped us out with our bikes doing various repairs, Jan fixed us some wonderful meals. If you guys are reading this, well, know that we won't forget the kindness you showed to us. (By the way Keith's blog is crazyguyonabike.com/keithgiezentanner).

Well, from Nickerson, we biked another 48 miles to Newton. On our way into town, a guy pulled over to the side of the road and gave us some water. Further on our way we pulled over on the side of the road to take a picture with us flexing with a sign for a gun show (I know right? Sorry, the picture didn't turn out well). Well, another guy pulled over, and asked if we'd like a roof and some showers. You need to know that we've really been blessed on this trip, but showering has been something that we have been lacking. We took him up on it, so that's where we are right now. At D.J.'s house, in Newton, full of pizza, showered, with our stuff in the laundry.

If you watch the news, the world seems like a terrible place. Cynically (and as a protective measure too I think) we tell ourselves that people are mean, out to get us, and always have an angle. I used to believe as much. You do something like we're doing, and experience things that we're experiencing, it's impossible to maintain that attitude. I don't know, I guess what I'm trying to say is quit watching the news and do a bike trip, or just keep following this blog.

Well, tomorrow is gonna be another 100 mile day, so I better get to bed. Our goal is to be done by the 4th of July, so we have some tough days ahead of us. Also, we've begun meeting quite a few cyclists heading the opposite direction, they say that we're some of the first "eastbounders" they've seen.

In God's Country

As we have continued this adventure of ours, something odd has stood out to me. Time and places really have no meaning. Let me explain. If you had asked me this morning what day of the week it was, what the date was, or even what time it was, I couldn't have really told you (unless I asked Lee who's handy Ironman watch could give you those sort of details). The days run together and as we go further on, the towns we ride through do the same. The one thing that does distinguish one day from another and one place from some other place are the people you meet.

My last post left off in Escalante, as we were attempting to escape some of the 100 degree heat in the area. Later that night, we pulled into Boulder right around dark, with no place to sleep and no food to eat (obviously determination and not foresight is our strongpoint). As we rolled into town, we met a lady on horseback, who's first question to us was, "You boys have a place to stay tonight?" We gave the negative reply, and she then invited us to camp on her farm, as long as we didn't mind the horses and cows, about a mile down the road. Things were already looking up. Next to attend to our hunger. We went to the grocer, but it had just closed, next a diner, but it too was closed, we finally pulled up to another diner, which was to be open for 2 more minutes. Instead of shooing us away, they welcomed us in and gave us a 10% discount on our meal. Life was good, could it get better?

The next morning after waking up amidst the mooing of cows, neighing of horses and quacking of a goose (apparently keeping them in a hen house is a deterrent for foxes), we made our way back to our friendly diner from our fortuitous evening before. We ordered breakfast which was by no means small (I feel compelled here to note that the meals which we partake of could probably feed six normal people, I for example had a veggie omellete, a fruit dish, hash browns, two pancakes, and an english muffin, and my compatriots meals were of similar sizes). As we were eating a gentleman approached and began chatting with us about our trip. This has actually become fairly commonplace to us. At almost every stop we make at least one, and usually two or three people, will talk to us about what we're doing. What happened later was less than commonplace. I had removed my self from the table to attend to some other business.....anyhow, on my return Lee and Wes explained to me that the guy who had talked to us had also picked up our ticket (again, think back to the amount of food x 3). We spent at least five minutes trying to figure out how to thank him without being awkward, and finally settled upon a direct approach. He was incredibly gracious and wished us luck and said he was happy to be a part of our journey. Yeah, life is good, and keeps getting better.

Well, we hit out from Boulder, climbed a 10,000 ft. mountain and headed Hanksville. Life was good, but it was about to get a little tricky for the next couple days. We had been trying to avoid the heat as much as possible, but there was no avoiding the heat wave that hit us after we left Hanksville. Let me give a little info first on what lay ahead of us, or I should say what didn't lay ahead of us. For the next 124 miles there was nothing. Well, there was one gas station located 50 miles in at Lake Powell (a reservoir for the Colorado River) Ranger station, however, the gas station thought it was to maintain hours only from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. Well, we set out from Hanksville at 7:30 a.m. and biked the fifty miles to the gas station/ranger station. Now we were in a pickle. By 9 that morning temps had reached well over 90 and by 11, when we arrived at the station the thermometer read 105 in the shade. It was pretty hot. Not only that, but the next 74 miles were uphill almost the entire way. Well, we restocked at the gas station, gorged ourselves on microwaveable burritos and then decided on a plan of attack. We would sleep/rest/stay in the shade all day. And that we did. from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. we did not leave the ranger station (which fortunately had a sheltered picnic area where we set up camp along with another bicyclist named Chuck who was in a similar situation as us). Chuck, our new found friend was a middle school teacher from Durango who did solo tours during the summer for fun. He had arranged for someone to give him a ride to Blanding (our destination as well). He shared his dinner with us while we waited and was fun to talk to (I think all three of us were excited about a fourth person for conversation). Well, his ride came, and we stayed there until 8. That's when our fun began.

We had decided to ride through the night to Blanding, and that we did, not the whole way but within 18 miles of the town. The ride was incredible. Tiring, mentally exhausting, but incredible. Our location of "in the middle of nowhere" made our view of the stars spectacular. We counted more than 20 shooting stars, and that was just during our break time, during which we would lie down on the road and just look up (don't worry, we were passed by two cars the whole evening, and could hear them well before we could see them). We pulled over to the side of the road at 2:00 a.m., threw the tarp on the ground and went to sleep. The next morning we woke up at 6, biked into Blanding, then pushed on to Dolores, Colorado (Yep, new state!). Getting to Dolores put us at 304 miles in three days, through probably the toughest terrain we will face. We felt accomplished, but exhausted.

Dolores was two nights ago. Now we're in Montrose, CO, enjoying the generousity of Lee's aunt and uncle, who have put us up in a hotel and taken us out to dinner, all the while making us feel like we were the ones doing them the favor. Yeah, life is good.

Utah and Colorado (at least what we've seen so far) have provided sights that are beyond description. At times, when rounding a bend in the road and you see a canyon, a mountain, or mesa, your mouth goes dry and you realize that you're jaw has been open at about a 120 degree angle for the past five minutes. The rock formations in Utah seemed almost painted and the mountain ranges in Colorado seem out of some western flick. You feel as though you're cycling through a John Wayne film, and at any moment the Duke himself may ride up and say something fitting for the scenery...this of course doesn't happen.

When we first rode into Utah, we came to a scenic overlook parking lot. We stopped to take a picture and asked a lady if she would mind taking one of the three of us. She obliged and asked us if this was our first time in the area. We said yes and she replied, "Well, welcome to God's Country."

If God did have a country, I don't know if Utah would be that place...I just can't make that type of claim with such surety nor back it up with any sort of evidence. However, if I was to make a top ten list of places that might be "God's Country," Utah and Colorado would be on that list. Not only because of the beauty of the area, but because of the people. It wouldn't take too much to convince me that some of the people we've met have been angels...and where else would you find angels than in God's country?

Lonely Roads, Take Me Home

Ernest Hemingway said (and I paraphrase) that it is by riding a bicycle you learn a country best, not because you are moving slower than you would in a car, but because you feel the country...and by feel I believe he is refering to pain. Nevada and Utah are riddled with mountain ranges, each one having to be crossed by us on our journey back east, and each one leaving its imprint in our memories (specifically our muscle memory). Nevada could be incredibly beautiful, but also incredibly boring. In between each of these ranges that had to be crossesd are valleys 20 miles wide which also would have to be crossed. Now you might think that after climbing up a mountain pass and flying on the downhill, a 20 mile crossing of a valley would be no problem right? Wrong. Because at the end of the 20 miles crossing is another mountain pass that has to be climbed, looming ahead. Boredom also plays a roll. You can see your destination at the end of the valley, whether it be another mountain pass or a city, but despite your efforts, it never seems to get any closer. It is only by putting your head down for one or two hours, and then lifting it that any difference seems to have been made in the distance traveled.

You would think after reading the above paragraph that this bike trip has been miserable, but far from it. Nevada served us with some of the most beautiful country anyone could desire and the people there were great. We followed Route 50 through practically the entire state. It is aptly named "The Loneliest Road in America." Stretches of 60, 70, and 80 miles with nothing...nothing but the sagebrush (which provided an interesting smell as you passed it). We often would ride at intervals of 100 yards or even more apart, as getting lost would take incredible talent. Minus the passing of our tires on the pavement and the occasional deep breath, cough, or swig of water, the land was silent. At times it could be eerie, but it could also be peaceful. The unusual weather that had hit us in California continued bringing cool weather to a part of our ride that we thought would be the hottest stretch.

Camping in Nevada was no problem. We made use of any location that was fairly protected from view of the road. Once we did stay in an official campsite at Middlegate Station. Middlegate was the epitomy of a western saloon/RV heaven. Free camping out back and good food inside. Located literally in the middle of nowhere, it was an oasis. The rest of our time in Nevada was spent camping on the side of the the road. On Memorial Day we had an easy day in which we did 47 miles, then got a motel in Ely where we washed our clothes our clothes in the sink and then dried them with a blow drier.

Now we're in Escalante, Utah, waiting for some of this 100 degree heat to subside before we push on another 25 miles to Boulder. Utah has brought more mountains to climb, but also some incredible scenery. Unlike Nevada, where valleys break up the mountains, in Utah you're continuously in the mountains, canyons and hills. It has brought the toughest climbs of our journey as of yet, but it is our favorite state so far.

Good People, Bad Weather

Greetings from Carson City, NV. Our journey began Monday night in San Francisco with an easy 15 miles before making camp. The next day we woke early and began biking. By 11:30 we had covered sixty miles and arrived in Davis, the bicycling capitol of the world. Lee's rear wheel was off it's true, so being in such a cycling friendly place worked very nicely. After dropping off his bike at a local shop, we grabbed lunch at an all you can eat Indian buffet (not the wisest choice of food when doing heavy exercise). The bike was ready by the time we had finished eating so we were on our way again by 1. We made it into Sacramento, where we were met with rain. For the next 30 miles we biked through a steady drizzle until we reached Folsom. We got a cheap motel and had a fairly comfortable and dry evening. The next day brought intermittent showers and elevation gain from 0 to 5000 ft. What California lacked in pleasant weather it made up for with the hospitality of it's people. We made it to Cook's Station where the owners were incredible, giving us food on the house and had a cheap campsite behind the restaurant. The night was cold, getting below freezing with sleet and rain,but we were well-protected. In the morning we decided to attempt Carson Pass 30 miles away (8500 ft and our entrance to Nevada), however after 10 miles we ran into snow and freezing rain and had to turn back to Cook's. There some fellas offered us a lift, and after talking it over we decided we'd take it as snow was forecast for the next couple days and we'd be stranded. Their ride knocked 30 miles out of our way, and we were able to bike another 55 to our present location in Carson City. We're going to try to be a little better about keeping up with this blog, but as you can see the last few days have been a little hectic.