yesterday i smelled the salty atlantic for the first time in more than three months. yesterday i swam in the atlantic for the first time in years. yesterday we hit the jersey shore and immediately began our westward return, of course, by way of maine. right now i tend to think of the last few months of riding as a succession of more than fifty bike rides, and not really "one big ride." as i was riding to the motel, still wet and salty from the sea, the only thoughts i had revolved around showering, eating, doing laundry, and how to get from point A to point B the following day. needless to say, we are creatures of habit, the routine i've fallen into while daily on-the-go will linger for some time.
with all of that in mind i have to re-pack for the remainder of the trip, getting things in order to be shipped back to oregon. it is a strange feeling for me, shipping things to oregon permanently.
i must thank those of you who read along, those who gave encouragement, aid, assistance, help, a place to stay over the last few months. thank you all so much.
may fair winds fill your sails with joy,
ross
Monday, July 14, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
one more ride
It's hard to believe it, but today will be our final ride to the Atlantic ocean. We're getting a ride over the Delaware Memorial bridge into New Jersey and will then ride to the Atlantic City area and the Jersey shore. And then we'll be done...
I must say that the riding we have done in the last week has been pretty much fantastic. The rides we did through the Appalachians were certainly difficult, they were hot, humid, and steep. I could definitely go back to WV and ride more, preferably not on a fully-loaded bike. We only briefly dipped into Virginia proper before heading for Maryland. I must admit that Maryland was a wonderful surprise. The roads were nice, the scenery lovely, and the rolling hills virtually endless. Oh, we were able to meet my old friend Tulley and her fiancé Frank for dinner in Frederick, too. I ended up getting my rear wheel warrantied in Westminster, we stayed in a backyard in Monkton, I managed to pick about a quart of rather unique wild raspberries, and according to my dad, had the best vegetarian meal ever all in one day!
Anyways, we're off to the shore in about an hour and I still need to pack, eat, and get moving.
Cheers to Les Leach and Kathleen, our host in Wilmington, DE and shuttle-drivers.
I must say that the riding we have done in the last week has been pretty much fantastic. The rides we did through the Appalachians were certainly difficult, they were hot, humid, and steep. I could definitely go back to WV and ride more, preferably not on a fully-loaded bike. We only briefly dipped into Virginia proper before heading for Maryland. I must admit that Maryland was a wonderful surprise. The roads were nice, the scenery lovely, and the rolling hills virtually endless. Oh, we were able to meet my old friend Tulley and her fiancé Frank for dinner in Frederick, too. I ended up getting my rear wheel warrantied in Westminster, we stayed in a backyard in Monkton, I managed to pick about a quart of rather unique wild raspberries, and according to my dad, had the best vegetarian meal ever all in one day!
Anyways, we're off to the shore in about an hour and I still need to pack, eat, and get moving.
Cheers to Les Leach and Kathleen, our host in Wilmington, DE and shuttle-drivers.
Friday, July 4, 2008
the wheel of fortune, or, as luck would have it?
Tucked away somewhere I have a sticker I picked up years ago showing an inflated bike tire and a flat tire. Underneath these are the words hope and despair, respectively. Time and time again I have entered into towns (and occasionally cities) leaving my fate to fortune, always hoping for good tidings, yet prepared for a less than clime. Luckily I have never experienced despair on this odyssey of sorts, but there have been those times when we’ve had to ride further than we would have liked to find a place to sleep, or food to eat. Nevertheless, today, we’re spending our first nigh in West Virginia.
The last time I wrote was my first morning in St. Louis. That feels like eons ago, but I guess it has only been a few weeks. So, fortune: the day we crossed into Missouri from Atchison, Kansas was unpleasantly hot and a bit confused. We’d battled an unrelenting and wholly unsympathetic headwind for much of the day and lost contact with each other in the afternoon. I entered Missouri in search of a place to stay, and opted to stay on route and forego a campground a few miles in the wrong direction—I rode to Rushville hoping to find at least a convenience store and a faucet and a place we could pitch our tents for the night. I arrived and found a post office and a bank and a church. I’d been sitting on a few postcards so decided that in my bleak situation the best thing to do was to send off a few little notes, admittedly describing my predicament. I think I wrote something to the effect of, ‘Hi, it’s really hot, I’m really tired, just got into MO, no food, no place to stay, guess I’ll figure something out.’ After sending those off I spoke with the lady at the post office and she let me use her phone to call my dad, just before doing calling him a fellow came into the post office and upon hearing about my desperate situation told me that we could sleep in the church that night, so I called dad and told him to pick up some grub and go to the Rushville church. When I got outside the post office the guy, Tim, said he’d do one better and offered up his house to us. We ended up staying with Tim, Rita, and their son Caleb that night in little Rushville, MO. How strange a turn of events…I write to friends of my dire situation only to be relieved moments later.
The first day I was in Ohio I rode into Cincinnati and was looking for a motel we could use as a launch-pad for an early start the following day so we could get through unscathed, to avoid the horrendous city traffic. I never found one and wound up weaving my way through on bad neighborhood after another, eager to find a place to stay. I didn’t, not exactly. I did stop a couple out for a walk (in a better neighborhood) to ask for directions to the nearest motel, they mentioned a few possibilities that were not really options I was eager to consider seriously, and then they offered their backyard which was only a block away. That was a lure I bit promptly. We ended up picking my dad up outside the city to save him the hassle of riding the streets I’d already traveled. And in the end he and I crashed on their floor and made an early start the next day to avoid the traffic. As a brief aside, a few days later in Piketon, OH we were in the barber shop getting haircuts and there was a show on the television describing a murder case, a murder case around the street we’d ridden to get out of Cincinnati!
And today, our first day in West Virginia, a day of rain and drizzle, one of those green-grey days that I am ever so fond of, our fortune was gilt. Early in the ride I had to take a detour to meet someone at a bike shop in Vienna, WV to buy a new saddle and a few tubes since mine was bust, something I noticed last night. I made some arrangements over the phone to meet someone there today, July 4, a day that probably ever bike shop is closed on…I had a great time talking with Yvette at the shop, Vienna Bike, and then got on the road to catch dad who by that time was ahead of me. I caught him outside Parkersburg and we found a great little town store for lunch, it just happened to be open today. After lunch we parted and made our way for West Union. Our plan was to take a rail-trail from Elenboro to West Union and then on to Clarksburg the following day. The North Bend trail is touted as having many long tunnels along its length…I got to Elenboro and jumped on the trail and was awarded with puddles and a very bumpy ride, initially. Then it smoothed out, and then it became more of a mountain bike ride than anything else. I rode that trail for 17 miles today, more out of stubbornness than anything else I suppose. I did call dad early on and tell him I was getting off of it ASAP, then I texted saying I’d ride it, after ten miles I called and told him to stay as far away from it as possible. I should have taken my own advice. It was more bad than good today. With all the rain the grassy sections were water-logged and sloooow. With all the rain there were countless puddles and sections more than 100 yards under 6+ inches of water. Then there were the tunnels. I rode through three of them. The first was about 500 ft. long, a little bumpy, dark enough that I got out my headlamp (useless in the foggy darkness) and managed to tentatively pedal through. I realize that some of you don’t think I know how to pedal with caution having seen me mountain bike, but I can, and do from time to time. Anyways, tunnel two was about 700 ft. long, darker and wetter with water on both sides of the bumpy, crowned center. Tunnel three was diabolical and about half a mile long, it went from bad to bearable to abysmal amidst the cool, dank air at the heart of a mountain that closes on you in an inescapable embrace. At the mouth of the tunnel water was pouring down onto the trail from both sides into a formidable puddle on top of an already thick layer of brown, sludgy mud that extended into the tunnel an indeterminate distance. I got off my bike and began what I figured would be a long, slow slog through the tunnel. I was not thrilled. So I marched in. The water abated, then there was another large puddle, then the trail was more or less dry so I climbed on my bike and pedaled on in darkness entertaining myself by hooting and hollering, as you do. Shortly after seeing the first light at the tunnel’s end I saw what looked to be a large pool of water and I considered turning around with images of myself trying to wade through some murky tunnel, heavy and loaded bike somehow overhead swimming in my mind. Of course I didn’t turn around. Surely the water couldn’t be so deep that I couldn’t ride through. Surely. Surely. Right? The lake came and I sallied forth, and then there was the sensation of sinking. I dismounted and picked my bike out of the water which was more than a foot deep and begin the final march to the end of the tunnel. The first pavement I hit after that felt as it must while floating on a cloud. I got to West Union and found nothing at all, really. Well, I found a bit of despair. We were supposed to be able to get lodging here, according to the pamphlet for the rail-trail. I stopped a guy and a girl walking down the street and they told me I’d have to go another thirty or so miles to find anything like a motel but that I could ask the folks down the block sitting out on their porch since they were local. So I did, of course. Before I even had told them my name I was sitting at the dining room table with a plate of food in front of me! Not only did they feed me but they did find us a place to stay with a couple who lets travelers stay with them from time to time. Oh, how fortunes swing! To Lois and her family we are indebted, for dinner and putting us in touch with Sharon and Paul, and of course to Sharon and Paul, here in West Union, OH.
We’ve decided to head for Atlantic City, NJ. I guess we’ll get there, ship our bikes back to Oregon. Then we’ll head for New York City, Boston, and then Maine. So, if you’ll be in NYC or Boston in about ten days, drop me a line or give me a call, I’d love to see you if I can.
With that, I’m beat and ready for bed.
Happy Fourth of July!
The last time I wrote was my first morning in St. Louis. That feels like eons ago, but I guess it has only been a few weeks. So, fortune: the day we crossed into Missouri from Atchison, Kansas was unpleasantly hot and a bit confused. We’d battled an unrelenting and wholly unsympathetic headwind for much of the day and lost contact with each other in the afternoon. I entered Missouri in search of a place to stay, and opted to stay on route and forego a campground a few miles in the wrong direction—I rode to Rushville hoping to find at least a convenience store and a faucet and a place we could pitch our tents for the night. I arrived and found a post office and a bank and a church. I’d been sitting on a few postcards so decided that in my bleak situation the best thing to do was to send off a few little notes, admittedly describing my predicament. I think I wrote something to the effect of, ‘Hi, it’s really hot, I’m really tired, just got into MO, no food, no place to stay, guess I’ll figure something out.’ After sending those off I spoke with the lady at the post office and she let me use her phone to call my dad, just before doing calling him a fellow came into the post office and upon hearing about my desperate situation told me that we could sleep in the church that night, so I called dad and told him to pick up some grub and go to the Rushville church. When I got outside the post office the guy, Tim, said he’d do one better and offered up his house to us. We ended up staying with Tim, Rita, and their son Caleb that night in little Rushville, MO. How strange a turn of events…I write to friends of my dire situation only to be relieved moments later.
The first day I was in Ohio I rode into Cincinnati and was looking for a motel we could use as a launch-pad for an early start the following day so we could get through unscathed, to avoid the horrendous city traffic. I never found one and wound up weaving my way through on bad neighborhood after another, eager to find a place to stay. I didn’t, not exactly. I did stop a couple out for a walk (in a better neighborhood) to ask for directions to the nearest motel, they mentioned a few possibilities that were not really options I was eager to consider seriously, and then they offered their backyard which was only a block away. That was a lure I bit promptly. We ended up picking my dad up outside the city to save him the hassle of riding the streets I’d already traveled. And in the end he and I crashed on their floor and made an early start the next day to avoid the traffic. As a brief aside, a few days later in Piketon, OH we were in the barber shop getting haircuts and there was a show on the television describing a murder case, a murder case around the street we’d ridden to get out of Cincinnati!
And today, our first day in West Virginia, a day of rain and drizzle, one of those green-grey days that I am ever so fond of, our fortune was gilt. Early in the ride I had to take a detour to meet someone at a bike shop in Vienna, WV to buy a new saddle and a few tubes since mine was bust, something I noticed last night. I made some arrangements over the phone to meet someone there today, July 4, a day that probably ever bike shop is closed on…I had a great time talking with Yvette at the shop, Vienna Bike, and then got on the road to catch dad who by that time was ahead of me. I caught him outside Parkersburg and we found a great little town store for lunch, it just happened to be open today. After lunch we parted and made our way for West Union. Our plan was to take a rail-trail from Elenboro to West Union and then on to Clarksburg the following day. The North Bend trail is touted as having many long tunnels along its length…I got to Elenboro and jumped on the trail and was awarded with puddles and a very bumpy ride, initially. Then it smoothed out, and then it became more of a mountain bike ride than anything else. I rode that trail for 17 miles today, more out of stubbornness than anything else I suppose. I did call dad early on and tell him I was getting off of it ASAP, then I texted saying I’d ride it, after ten miles I called and told him to stay as far away from it as possible. I should have taken my own advice. It was more bad than good today. With all the rain the grassy sections were water-logged and sloooow. With all the rain there were countless puddles and sections more than 100 yards under 6+ inches of water. Then there were the tunnels. I rode through three of them. The first was about 500 ft. long, a little bumpy, dark enough that I got out my headlamp (useless in the foggy darkness) and managed to tentatively pedal through. I realize that some of you don’t think I know how to pedal with caution having seen me mountain bike, but I can, and do from time to time. Anyways, tunnel two was about 700 ft. long, darker and wetter with water on both sides of the bumpy, crowned center. Tunnel three was diabolical and about half a mile long, it went from bad to bearable to abysmal amidst the cool, dank air at the heart of a mountain that closes on you in an inescapable embrace. At the mouth of the tunnel water was pouring down onto the trail from both sides into a formidable puddle on top of an already thick layer of brown, sludgy mud that extended into the tunnel an indeterminate distance. I got off my bike and began what I figured would be a long, slow slog through the tunnel. I was not thrilled. So I marched in. The water abated, then there was another large puddle, then the trail was more or less dry so I climbed on my bike and pedaled on in darkness entertaining myself by hooting and hollering, as you do. Shortly after seeing the first light at the tunnel’s end I saw what looked to be a large pool of water and I considered turning around with images of myself trying to wade through some murky tunnel, heavy and loaded bike somehow overhead swimming in my mind. Of course I didn’t turn around. Surely the water couldn’t be so deep that I couldn’t ride through. Surely. Surely. Right? The lake came and I sallied forth, and then there was the sensation of sinking. I dismounted and picked my bike out of the water which was more than a foot deep and begin the final march to the end of the tunnel. The first pavement I hit after that felt as it must while floating on a cloud. I got to West Union and found nothing at all, really. Well, I found a bit of despair. We were supposed to be able to get lodging here, according to the pamphlet for the rail-trail. I stopped a guy and a girl walking down the street and they told me I’d have to go another thirty or so miles to find anything like a motel but that I could ask the folks down the block sitting out on their porch since they were local. So I did, of course. Before I even had told them my name I was sitting at the dining room table with a plate of food in front of me! Not only did they feed me but they did find us a place to stay with a couple who lets travelers stay with them from time to time. Oh, how fortunes swing! To Lois and her family we are indebted, for dinner and putting us in touch with Sharon and Paul, and of course to Sharon and Paul, here in West Union, OH.
We’ve decided to head for Atlantic City, NJ. I guess we’ll get there, ship our bikes back to Oregon. Then we’ll head for New York City, Boston, and then Maine. So, if you’ll be in NYC or Boston in about ten days, drop me a line or give me a call, I’d love to see you if I can.
With that, I’m beat and ready for bed.
Happy Fourth of July!
Monday, June 16, 2008
life outside the fast lane
Yesterday was Father's day and we made St. Louis. It's been a few weeks since I last sat a computer and had a chance to update this and check my e-mail. I guess the last time I said anything here we were in Oshkosh, NE dodging storms. The storm dodging business continued all the way through Nebraska and into Kansas, we actually dipped into Kansas a little earlier than we'd originally intended to hopefully avoid "tornado alley" and have fairer winds. I suppose we were successful on both accounts, more or less. We were never hit by any tornadoes, and the wind was never so bad that we couldn't ride...
I've had a plethora of ideas running through my head the last couple of weeks and now, here, I am plagued by the same question I always am, do I write about the daily grind or a few choice events? It doesn't really matter this time, I'm not rushed and know that I'll be here for a week- plenty of time.
I'll backtrack a bit, first. We deviated from our route to Colorado in Lander, WY to head for the Platte river in hopes of finding flat roads and ethereal winds. It was not without reluctance, of course. I love pancakes but not necessarily landscapes as such, that said, our decision to take the quick path to the plains was more in the interest of time than anything else. So we headed east across WY anticipating a topographically mundane Great Plains. Let's just say that the plains aren't planar. From a few hundred feet in the air you could probably see across the entire state of Kansas, but on the surface, it ain't flat. Neither is Nebraska. Well, at least the parts we rode across. The ground undulates predictably, as tides ebb and flow. The grasses and wheat fields rustle in waves as a wind driven sea. We crossed that sea tracing the arches of some prehistoric sea-monster's back, climbing out of and descending into the waves. What a wild ride. Admittedly, I was a little frustrated at first, 30, 40, 50 miles of that was unnerving, that old jigsaw puzzle of expectation and disappointment. But once I accepted the fact that no holy grail of a flat road and perfect tailwind was in store I enjoyed the rolling landscape and curious wind. In these states the grass cannot hide the wind direction, unlike the sage of the high desert.
I'm getting hungry now and will have to sign off. I'll get back to this soon enough though. I did say that we managed to avoid dangerous weather, but in our first evening in Kansas, in Oberlin, a storm passed over that dropped golf ball size hail. Who knew that hail could bounce?
Have Fun.
I've had a plethora of ideas running through my head the last couple of weeks and now, here, I am plagued by the same question I always am, do I write about the daily grind or a few choice events? It doesn't really matter this time, I'm not rushed and know that I'll be here for a week- plenty of time.
I'll backtrack a bit, first. We deviated from our route to Colorado in Lander, WY to head for the Platte river in hopes of finding flat roads and ethereal winds. It was not without reluctance, of course. I love pancakes but not necessarily landscapes as such, that said, our decision to take the quick path to the plains was more in the interest of time than anything else. So we headed east across WY anticipating a topographically mundane Great Plains. Let's just say that the plains aren't planar. From a few hundred feet in the air you could probably see across the entire state of Kansas, but on the surface, it ain't flat. Neither is Nebraska. Well, at least the parts we rode across. The ground undulates predictably, as tides ebb and flow. The grasses and wheat fields rustle in waves as a wind driven sea. We crossed that sea tracing the arches of some prehistoric sea-monster's back, climbing out of and descending into the waves. What a wild ride. Admittedly, I was a little frustrated at first, 30, 40, 50 miles of that was unnerving, that old jigsaw puzzle of expectation and disappointment. But once I accepted the fact that no holy grail of a flat road and perfect tailwind was in store I enjoyed the rolling landscape and curious wind. In these states the grass cannot hide the wind direction, unlike the sage of the high desert.
I'm getting hungry now and will have to sign off. I'll get back to this soon enough though. I did say that we managed to avoid dangerous weather, but in our first evening in Kansas, in Oberlin, a storm passed over that dropped golf ball size hail. Who knew that hail could bounce?
Have Fun.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Big Hail small Towns
We finally made it out of Wyoming.
there were many miles of riding beside a rumble strip, so many that i really wanted to write Wyoming off as the rumble strip state but so far it's no different in Nebraska...dad wants to say that Wyoming's motto ought to be "take it or leave it" and that is accurate. at least a few times were we told that we were in Wyoming and things are different in Wyoming, sometimes it was put nicer than others. it is a pretty country though. given all the ranches, cowboys, and talk of the pony express i began to wonder whether or not i could trade my beloved leather bicycle saddle for the horse mounted variety. at any rate, we seem to have left the mountains for good which i'm not entirely happy about but have accepted. we were hoping to make better time on the plains with prevailing winds coming from the west but that hasn't been so. i'm sure many of you have heard about the high tornado count in the midwest this year, apparently wind from the southeast means bad weather in these parts and yesterday was good evidence. we rode about 63 miles from McGrew (pop 99) to OshKosh (pop 966) with a headwind that only relaxed when the coal trains would pass by and buffer the wind. of course, the trains that were traveling in our direction did this, those passing the other way only increased the apparent strength of the wind. some matters of checks and balances don't really figure into the sensations felt in your legs after hours and hours of riding, on a very base level a reprieve is a reprieve.
as i was saying, the wind was out of the southeast all day yesterday and we were following the Platte, heading southeast. i got to OshKosh around 12:30 and got us a cheap hotel ($38) as planned. just as dad was due to arrive i flipped on the weather channel to see what the brewing, brooding dark clouds had in store: golf ball sized hail and the potential for a tornado, in southern Garden County and only 6 miles south of OshKosh! as luck would have it a sever storm watch crew picked dad up and ferried him in the last 4 miles to town. luckily the storm never really came to fruition but there are more and more and more on the way i guess. really, i'm just hoping for a flipping of the wind! or maybe just a break from it...
yesterday was supposed to be an easy 60 miles since the previous 5 days had been longer than average for us. it didn't turn out that way at all, they were 60 grueling miles, though i did rescue 6 box turtles from the road and coaxed a 6ft. bull snake off the shoulder, too. so, we stayed in OshKosh another day for rest up and prepare for another day of fighting the wind.
all in all, we're doing well and planning on making it to St. Louis with a little time to spare before the wedding. that means more bike riding, but unloaded! these loaded bikes are so sluggish, taking the front panniers off makes them feel twitchy and almost unpredictable, but a dream to ride.
i hope that the weather improves for everyone unhappy with theirs, the grass stays green and soft, and the news be good.
have fun,
ross
there were many miles of riding beside a rumble strip, so many that i really wanted to write Wyoming off as the rumble strip state but so far it's no different in Nebraska...dad wants to say that Wyoming's motto ought to be "take it or leave it" and that is accurate. at least a few times were we told that we were in Wyoming and things are different in Wyoming, sometimes it was put nicer than others. it is a pretty country though. given all the ranches, cowboys, and talk of the pony express i began to wonder whether or not i could trade my beloved leather bicycle saddle for the horse mounted variety. at any rate, we seem to have left the mountains for good which i'm not entirely happy about but have accepted. we were hoping to make better time on the plains with prevailing winds coming from the west but that hasn't been so. i'm sure many of you have heard about the high tornado count in the midwest this year, apparently wind from the southeast means bad weather in these parts and yesterday was good evidence. we rode about 63 miles from McGrew (pop 99) to OshKosh (pop 966) with a headwind that only relaxed when the coal trains would pass by and buffer the wind. of course, the trains that were traveling in our direction did this, those passing the other way only increased the apparent strength of the wind. some matters of checks and balances don't really figure into the sensations felt in your legs after hours and hours of riding, on a very base level a reprieve is a reprieve.
as i was saying, the wind was out of the southeast all day yesterday and we were following the Platte, heading southeast. i got to OshKosh around 12:30 and got us a cheap hotel ($38) as planned. just as dad was due to arrive i flipped on the weather channel to see what the brewing, brooding dark clouds had in store: golf ball sized hail and the potential for a tornado, in southern Garden County and only 6 miles south of OshKosh! as luck would have it a sever storm watch crew picked dad up and ferried him in the last 4 miles to town. luckily the storm never really came to fruition but there are more and more and more on the way i guess. really, i'm just hoping for a flipping of the wind! or maybe just a break from it...
yesterday was supposed to be an easy 60 miles since the previous 5 days had been longer than average for us. it didn't turn out that way at all, they were 60 grueling miles, though i did rescue 6 box turtles from the road and coaxed a 6ft. bull snake off the shoulder, too. so, we stayed in OshKosh another day for rest up and prepare for another day of fighting the wind.
all in all, we're doing well and planning on making it to St. Louis with a little time to spare before the wedding. that means more bike riding, but unloaded! these loaded bikes are so sluggish, taking the front panniers off makes them feel twitchy and almost unpredictable, but a dream to ride.
i hope that the weather improves for everyone unhappy with theirs, the grass stays green and soft, and the news be good.
have fun,
ross
Thursday, May 29, 2008
that old wind again
so often i sit down at the computer, when i get to one, and don't really know what to write. i always figured that i'd have something to say, lots to say, whenever i would get to one, but i'm finding it to be otherwise. tonight we're in Douglas, WY and it's about as windy as i've seen it so far this trip. i just talked to dad about an hour ago and he said he'd been blown UP a hill at 35mph! i didn't get that kind of wind on my trip in, oh well. we've got 1-2 days left in Wyoming and then it's into Nebraska for a bit, and then on to Kansas, i guess.
we seem to be out of the major rains for now, just some thunderstorms that roll through rather quickly.
as i rode over what was likely our last mountain pass for a long, long time i was both happy and sad. i'd definitely rather ride up and down mountains for the duration of the trip, but mountains usually mean shorter days. so leaving the mountains means we should be able to move a little further across the map each day, and if the winds are favorable we'll inch along that much quicker, or at least with a little more ease.
a few nights ago we were in Jeffrey City, an old uranium mining town about 60 miles outside Lander, on the way to Rawlins or Casper. what a place that was. i met an artist-fellow who'd just bought a building and lot for $5000 and had to put a roof on the place that cost another $10K, twice the cost of the building and lot! anyways, the town population once was about 3-5000 and is now about 50. at the bar/cafe they won't take a credit card and charge $2.25 for a glass of whisky (Jack or Jim), everything else is cheap too and the breakfast was HUGE! i suppose it's the kind of place your could escape from the world, there's ranches, sage, some granite (i think) and that's it. no gas, no groceries, just about no nothing. oh, there's pronghorn deer too.
i'm sitting at this computer at the KOA and it's running SUSE Linux, what a surprise. and since i'm at a KOA i'm heading for the shower to wash away today's salt/sweat accumulation...i guess that last night we were camped at one of the premier river trout fishing in the country on the North Platte outside Alcova, fyi.
ok. be well,
ross
we seem to be out of the major rains for now, just some thunderstorms that roll through rather quickly.
as i rode over what was likely our last mountain pass for a long, long time i was both happy and sad. i'd definitely rather ride up and down mountains for the duration of the trip, but mountains usually mean shorter days. so leaving the mountains means we should be able to move a little further across the map each day, and if the winds are favorable we'll inch along that much quicker, or at least with a little more ease.
a few nights ago we were in Jeffrey City, an old uranium mining town about 60 miles outside Lander, on the way to Rawlins or Casper. what a place that was. i met an artist-fellow who'd just bought a building and lot for $5000 and had to put a roof on the place that cost another $10K, twice the cost of the building and lot! anyways, the town population once was about 3-5000 and is now about 50. at the bar/cafe they won't take a credit card and charge $2.25 for a glass of whisky (Jack or Jim), everything else is cheap too and the breakfast was HUGE! i suppose it's the kind of place your could escape from the world, there's ranches, sage, some granite (i think) and that's it. no gas, no groceries, just about no nothing. oh, there's pronghorn deer too.
i'm sitting at this computer at the KOA and it's running SUSE Linux, what a surprise. and since i'm at a KOA i'm heading for the shower to wash away today's salt/sweat accumulation...i guess that last night we were camped at one of the premier river trout fishing in the country on the North Platte outside Alcova, fyi.
ok. be well,
ross
Monday, May 26, 2008
more and more and more
we left Jackson the other day, I guess it was Friday?
Saturday we climbed over Togwotee Pass on our way to Lander.
We woke Saturday morning to a temperature of 37F and a light rain/mist, I over fueled with the end of a bag of cereal, whole milk, and a brownie I'd picked up the day before at Dornan's at the entrance to Teton National Park as I was on the lookout for fuel and elk and bison. After less than thirty minutes of climbing I was overheating despite the lower temp of 34F and rain that had given way to falling snow. While pedaling upwards and into that grey horizon I was wondering at the absurdity of some of these endeavors so many of us embark on, oftentimes knowing full-well what is in store. I don't necessarily think the experience is always pleasurable during, but afterwards when out of the elements while eating and drinking, warm and dry, the unsavory becomes savory. But I also realize that I was at the foot of Memorial Day weekend, a weekend that has been notoriously bad for members of the OMC (Oregon State University Mountain Club) and mountains. We lost some dear friends one year, and dear toes another. Cornelius's smile was never out of my periphery that day. As many mountaineers and climbers will tell you, it is oftentimes the descent that wreaks the most havoc. This rang true for me that day. I was hot with sweaty and snowy clothes as I crossed that 9658Ft mountain pass and began the thirty mile drop to Dubois. At first the cold was an afterthought, but after a few miles at more around 30mph in driving 35F rain I was freezing...luckily, just as my teeth began to chatter I came upon the Lava Mountain Resort where I dripped, drank cocoa, tucked into some chili, and warmed slightly. I left and a few miles down the road the rain gave way to a luxurious tailwind and it was smooth sailing across the Wind river and into Dubois. Behind me my dad was having his own adventures in the snowy pass, the lucky bugger got to see a moose while eating a burrito at Togwotee Lodge, I only saw a few mule deer that day, looking less comfortable than I must have on the descent.
Yesterday we rode out of Dubois and into Lander, the sun was shining but the wind was unfavorable for the last 60 or so miles making the trek seem more difficult than usual, probably we were jaded by the first fifteen miles with a ripping tailwind. In Lander we set up camp at the city park and narrowly escaped an exciting hailstorm, we now know what it sounds like inside a popcorn popper! The storm eased long enough for us to cook, but then it picked up again and rained all night and was still going strong this morning, POURING this morning. So we checked in for the day, did laundry, dried everything, and are anticipating more rain tomorrow. Tomorrow we ride, however.
It is looking like we're in for a change of route. We'd planned to head for Rawlins and then trend south into Colorado but now think we'll head for Casper and follow the Platte river into Nebraska and then make our way into Kansas.
Mom, I'm sending more stuff home. Don't worry, you won't need the gas mask this time. Speaking of sending, send me your address (any of you) and maybe I'll get a postcard off to ya'.
I guess we went from unseasonably dry and hot conditions to the opposite, cold and wet, maybe it's a Wyoming thing? One thing is for sure, this weather doesn't often bring out the best in a person and we've had our spats, thankfully no hard feelings have lingered. Speaking of the weather, I'm a little nervous to head to the plains since they're getting nailed by tornadoes and I really don't want to have to deal with those sorts of winds...
And one last thought to any of you biking around in the rain, just be glad you're not loaded down and riding in it all day long. I assure you that you'll get to where you're going a whole lot faster than we will. I sound like I don't like riding in the rain, some of you know that's not entirely true as I've dragged more than one unknowing soul on bike rides in diabolical weather. Be comforted in the knowledge that you are with me on this ride, too.
ta-ta for now,
ross
Saturday we climbed over Togwotee Pass on our way to Lander.
We woke Saturday morning to a temperature of 37F and a light rain/mist, I over fueled with the end of a bag of cereal, whole milk, and a brownie I'd picked up the day before at Dornan's at the entrance to Teton National Park as I was on the lookout for fuel and elk and bison. After less than thirty minutes of climbing I was overheating despite the lower temp of 34F and rain that had given way to falling snow. While pedaling upwards and into that grey horizon I was wondering at the absurdity of some of these endeavors so many of us embark on, oftentimes knowing full-well what is in store. I don't necessarily think the experience is always pleasurable during, but afterwards when out of the elements while eating and drinking, warm and dry, the unsavory becomes savory. But I also realize that I was at the foot of Memorial Day weekend, a weekend that has been notoriously bad for members of the OMC (Oregon State University Mountain Club) and mountains. We lost some dear friends one year, and dear toes another. Cornelius's smile was never out of my periphery that day. As many mountaineers and climbers will tell you, it is oftentimes the descent that wreaks the most havoc. This rang true for me that day. I was hot with sweaty and snowy clothes as I crossed that 9658Ft mountain pass and began the thirty mile drop to Dubois. At first the cold was an afterthought, but after a few miles at more around 30mph in driving 35F rain I was freezing...luckily, just as my teeth began to chatter I came upon the Lava Mountain Resort where I dripped, drank cocoa, tucked into some chili, and warmed slightly. I left and a few miles down the road the rain gave way to a luxurious tailwind and it was smooth sailing across the Wind river and into Dubois. Behind me my dad was having his own adventures in the snowy pass, the lucky bugger got to see a moose while eating a burrito at Togwotee Lodge, I only saw a few mule deer that day, looking less comfortable than I must have on the descent.
Yesterday we rode out of Dubois and into Lander, the sun was shining but the wind was unfavorable for the last 60 or so miles making the trek seem more difficult than usual, probably we were jaded by the first fifteen miles with a ripping tailwind. In Lander we set up camp at the city park and narrowly escaped an exciting hailstorm, we now know what it sounds like inside a popcorn popper! The storm eased long enough for us to cook, but then it picked up again and rained all night and was still going strong this morning, POURING this morning. So we checked in for the day, did laundry, dried everything, and are anticipating more rain tomorrow. Tomorrow we ride, however.
It is looking like we're in for a change of route. We'd planned to head for Rawlins and then trend south into Colorado but now think we'll head for Casper and follow the Platte river into Nebraska and then make our way into Kansas.
Mom, I'm sending more stuff home. Don't worry, you won't need the gas mask this time. Speaking of sending, send me your address (any of you) and maybe I'll get a postcard off to ya'.
I guess we went from unseasonably dry and hot conditions to the opposite, cold and wet, maybe it's a Wyoming thing? One thing is for sure, this weather doesn't often bring out the best in a person and we've had our spats, thankfully no hard feelings have lingered. Speaking of the weather, I'm a little nervous to head to the plains since they're getting nailed by tornadoes and I really don't want to have to deal with those sorts of winds...
And one last thought to any of you biking around in the rain, just be glad you're not loaded down and riding in it all day long. I assure you that you'll get to where you're going a whole lot faster than we will. I sound like I don't like riding in the rain, some of you know that's not entirely true as I've dragged more than one unknowing soul on bike rides in diabolical weather. Be comforted in the knowledge that you are with me on this ride, too.
ta-ta for now,
ross
Thursday, May 22, 2008
inevitibility
I guess that it was inevitable that we'd get hit by some rain, though we haven't ridden in any yet, we'll be in it tomorrow. the sun was blazing as we made our way across Idaho and even our first day in Wyoming as we rode from Alpine to Jackson two days ago. Yesterday was our designated rest day in Jackson, it rained and rained and rained and rained all day today as well, so we opted to stay put and wait for warmer temps (it's supposed to be 50F in Jackson tomorrow and still wet). The potential for snow on the roads was the real deciding factor for us.
We met so many nice folks in Idaho. In Fairfield, up on the Camas Prairie we were taken in by a family, they gave us their lawn for the night, washed our clothes, allowed us to shower (or maybe insisted on it due to our collective odor), and cooked us dinner and breakfast the next morning. Dad had a tire blow out the following day, just as I had reached him after hanging back in town for a little while. I was convinced that after our little fiasco with thorns upon entering Idaho would be the first chapter in a novel of disasters, how wrong I was, and how thankful I am for that.
I must admit that over the years I've not given the Idaho landscape the credit it deserves. It is not as varied as Oregon but is stunning nonetheless. I'd love to go back someday and tour the mountains. The roughly thirty miles of climbing out of Mountain Home was such a delight! Thankfully there's more climbing to come. I must admit that I'm a little worried that Nebraska and Kansas will make me a batty.
We're staying in Jackson with a friend from Orono and a few other mainers which is nice. As strange as it was to sleep indoors the first night here it's amazing how easily I have welcomed it. I am getting a little stir-crazy having not ridden for two days now but when I look outside and the water dripping off the roofs it's real easy to stay put a little longer. This extra day in town even gave me the opportunity to bake some bread! It just came out of the oven and looks pretty good, unfortunately one of the loaves stuck to the pan and has a motley bottom.
I guess that tomorrow we'll have to head out, I think we're both ready to move on. Then again, staying in Jackson with Ronnie, Kyle, Dan, and Chris would be nice, it has been awesome.
I'm finding that my mind is wandering less and less as all I am concerned with these days is taking care of my physical needs. Riding, eating, and sleeping. And that's about it.
Ride On.
We met so many nice folks in Idaho. In Fairfield, up on the Camas Prairie we were taken in by a family, they gave us their lawn for the night, washed our clothes, allowed us to shower (or maybe insisted on it due to our collective odor), and cooked us dinner and breakfast the next morning. Dad had a tire blow out the following day, just as I had reached him after hanging back in town for a little while. I was convinced that after our little fiasco with thorns upon entering Idaho would be the first chapter in a novel of disasters, how wrong I was, and how thankful I am for that.
I must admit that over the years I've not given the Idaho landscape the credit it deserves. It is not as varied as Oregon but is stunning nonetheless. I'd love to go back someday and tour the mountains. The roughly thirty miles of climbing out of Mountain Home was such a delight! Thankfully there's more climbing to come. I must admit that I'm a little worried that Nebraska and Kansas will make me a batty.
We're staying in Jackson with a friend from Orono and a few other mainers which is nice. As strange as it was to sleep indoors the first night here it's amazing how easily I have welcomed it. I am getting a little stir-crazy having not ridden for two days now but when I look outside and the water dripping off the roofs it's real easy to stay put a little longer. This extra day in town even gave me the opportunity to bake some bread! It just came out of the oven and looks pretty good, unfortunately one of the loaves stuck to the pan and has a motley bottom.
I guess that tomorrow we'll have to head out, I think we're both ready to move on. Then again, staying in Jackson with Ronnie, Kyle, Dan, and Chris would be nice, it has been awesome.
I'm finding that my mind is wandering less and less as all I am concerned with these days is taking care of my physical needs. Riding, eating, and sleeping. And that's about it.
Ride On.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
marching on [thorns]
we crossed into idaho two days ago. oregon wasn't easy at all. i don't think they know how to build a flat road in the state. i'm not complaining, but i'm saying...we move at a relatively slow speed. the first few days i pushed too hard and have payed for it with a nagging knee pain ever since. having slowed down the pain seems to have abated, more or less. there's a great story about a simultaneous double-flat that we brought upon ourselves by crossing over some horrendous patch of roadside thorns. it all ended with the application of about ten patches on four tubes, three broken valve stems (he did it to all three), only three working tubes for two bikes (four are required), and two nights in a small motel in Parma, ID. we lived to tell the tale and i'm sitting here in Murphy, ID about 53 miles from Parma. i got into town and discovered the only store here is closed on tuesdays (it's tuesday, by the way) and that we can camp on the museum lawn but the sprinker system might come on at some point (that already happened to us once so it shouldn't be too much of an issue).
we just keep rolling along and are having a great time. as we wander the roads so too does my mind--to many familiar places, voices, and faces.
on a lighter note, i can't say i miss sitting in front of a computer all day. i can say that i miss you all, however.
no epiphanies or profound realizations, i did read an old Kung Fu book and have rolled this around in my head: suffering is as private as death. but that's not at all relevant to our journey.
oregon is amazing, i hope i feel the same about the rest of 'em.
have fun and much love,
ross
we just keep rolling along and are having a great time. as we wander the roads so too does my mind--to many familiar places, voices, and faces.
on a lighter note, i can't say i miss sitting in front of a computer all day. i can say that i miss you all, however.
no epiphanies or profound realizations, i did read an old Kung Fu book and have rolled this around in my head: suffering is as private as death. but that's not at all relevant to our journey.
oregon is amazing, i hope i feel the same about the rest of 'em.
have fun and much love,
ross
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Prologues
Yesterday I pedaled from my hometown of Silverton out to Neskowin beach. The weather was lovely, albeit breezy (though not nearly as bad as those blustery spring afternoons in Maine). There is something unique to riding a bike to the ocean. For me, pedaling to the sea feels like pedaling to the end, from which there is nothing but an undulating body of water unawares the human condition. It's especially nice to arrive at the Pacific as golden waves crash upon the endless, sandy beach--the alternative being a driving rain brought forth by an angry Poseidon.
Somewhere along the way amidst the past few years my home became Maine. I was beginning to forget some of the not so subtle details of the Oregon landscape. As I rode through the coastal mountains yesterday I couldn't help but stare at the moss covered trees crowding the slopes or the tributary streams snaking through the valleys; at times I am convinced there remain places forgotten by Time.
I guess that tomorrow we begin our journey East, it'll be interesting riding with all this extra junk. Sure, I've ridden plenty of miles with stuffed jersey pockets but now having four bags to put too much miscellany into is proving to be something of a conundrum. I cannot seem to resist the temptation to stuff them to the brim unnecessarily...So long as there's room for a bottle of beer and a loaf of bread I'll manage!
So, that's me, for now.
Have Fun,
r
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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