Today we both woke up with colds, or just horrible allergies, and jello legs, so we decided to stay.
Big news: after 1,000 miles, we finally washed our clothes today! It's the little things.
Photos: watching the Olympics, a few of the gang, and a Missouri morning
65 ridiculously hilly miles. Missouri is not fun.
We met for breakfast with Promise, Whitney, and 2 other cyclists we recently met, Brian and Stephanie. They are a young couple from Cali that didn't have any cycling experience prior to this ride. I'm still so impressed at the amount of people who decide to ride cross country, and hadn't even owned a bike.
Seriously Missouri, we need to break up already. I know it's only been a few days, but you are KILLING me. The climbs are just getting more absurd and I'm feeling suffocated by your intensity.
We rode on and off all day with the 4 others, it was such a blast having a train of women and one dude. Promise is the fastest, so she was the conductor, and the rest of us took turns swapping places. Riding with others makes me feel like I'm a part of something bigger than just me, it is so neat. Also, I think our new friends came along at just the right moment, because we all struggled through today.
After stopping at a convenience store to find a "Closed" sign on the door, morale sunk even lower. It was hot, and all we wanted was a cold drink. Terry, a local guy, stopped in for the same reason and ended up chatting with us for a while. He mentioned passing through Houston later in the day, so I jokingly told him to have some sandwiches and soda ready for us when he passes us on the road. Well, a few miles later, there was Terry! He had a cooler full of cold drinks and all the fixings for sandwiches. That was so much needed and SO much appreciated. Terry said we looked like we needed it badly, I think he saw the delirium in our eyes.
I think we are taking tomorrow off to hang out with Wags, a friend from the AT. Looking forward to resting, I am beyond exhausted and McKinley also looks like she could use a day to recoup.
120 miles. Exhaustion.
Yesterday as we left town, a very rotund, shirtless man in blue jeans and suspenders shouted to us across 4 lanes of traffic, asking us where we were from. I don't know why, but I thought it was funny. He followed up with a "Good Luck" as we pedaled by.
A few miles later, we finally left Kansas, for the hills of Missouri. At the Missouri sign, we met up with a family from Long Island that we met 2 days earlier. One of the young boys took our photo and said they hoped to see us again; they were so adorable! We also met Rob, on the fast track to finish in 2-3 weeks.
In true cyclist form, we had a big lunch at the infamous Cookys Cafe, and ordered 4 slices of pie for dessert. Yum! My favorite was dutch blueberry, but we also had pecan, mocha, and peanut butter.
Missouri has some of the hardest hills I've ever climbed. We are working harder than we did climbing the Rockies, because we are either going up or down, there is no in between. The uphills are so incredibly steep, I can't even guess the percent of the grade. Basically, all we do now is climb; the downhills last only seconds, not minutes. My legs feel like jello and I am exhausted.
Since Oregon, we kept hearing about 2 girls that were just ahead of us. We finally met them today; Whitney and Promise are best friends from home, and are from all over the country. Shockingly and awesomely, Promise is 31 years old and only rode a bike for the first time 3 months ago. One drunken night for them resulted in deciding to bike cross country. I think that is super badass. And now Whitney is living a summer of sobriety and says this has been the best summer of her life.
McKinley and I got a hotel room to watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Basically, we're in hog heaven, watching tv and drinking beer in our beds. I live for the Olympics! Yep, I'm a Dork, but so is McKinley; she is just as much a junkie as I am. For 2 weeks, the whole world unites, that is so neat!
Time to get serious about my Olympics watchung.
15 measley miles. Because it is one million degrees.
This morning, we rode passed 4 or 5 boys playing on their front lawn. As we rang our bells and waved, one boy shouted, "Nothing to see here, just a few kids playing" all nonchalant and grown-up like; we couldn't stop laughing at A) the fact that he used that line, and B) how natural it flowed out of his mouth. I'm still laughing.
We went straight to the bike shop to check our chains and cassettes. A chain has a life of about 1,500 miles before it has stretched and damages the cassette. Luckily, I needed nothing replaced, and McKinley only replaced her chain, even though she was 1,500 miles over life. Phew!
On our way out of town, we went to Braums for ice cream. Well, we loitered long enough to answer at least half a dozen peoples questions, score free limeades from an employee, chat for an hour with a local man having a birthday banana split, and get hungry enough to eat another meal. After a little number crunching out of the heat, we decided to stay in town, rather than die in the death sauna that is Kansas. So, Missouri, and the Ozarks, will have to wait until the morning.
Please, oh please, turn down the heat. McKinley says, "It feels like I'm choking and a heater is blowing on me." Bleck.
Also, we realized today that we haven't washed clothes in one and a half states. That's a long time.
Oh, I don't know, 150+ miles?
Toronto was an odd town, but we had the comfort of sleeping in a church again. Donna, a woman on the board for the church, took us to the local campground to take showers. She was amazing, a pistol for someone in her mid 70's. My favorite thing she said was, "It's hard to hit a moving target!" in regards to her abundance of energy.
Today we rode 85 miles in 102 degrees, went to Sonic for dinner, and ate cheese burgers. McKinley was a vegan before this trip, in which she refers to it as her non-vegan adventure, and I had been a vegetarian for 3 years. I plan to resume that status once I hit Virginia.
McKinley and I are asked repetetive questions on a daily basis by random locals. While I'm usually happy to answer those questions, it is often exhausting. There's the verbal answers, and then there's the actual internal answers; here's a few examples:
1 - How are you handling the heat? (this is my favorite new one)
Verbal answer- We ride really early in the morning and quit around noon.
Internal answer- Uh, Kansas is a sauna of death, but actually, I wish it could be hotter! (it was 85 degrees and very humid when we left at 4:30 this morning)
2 - How many miles do you do a day?
Verbal answer- 60-80 miles.
Internal answer- I can go no further, it's insanely hot, I'm going to lay in the gravel and wait for death. Do you have a pick up truck?
3 - How can you afford to do this?
Verbal answer- I saved money and have summers off
Internal answer - Why is my financial situation your business? Hey, how much do you get paid?
4 - So what route are you taking?
Verbal answer - Oh I'm not sure, our maps tell us where to go.
Followed by the person telling us which way we should go, rather than follow our maps.
Internal answer- I paid a lot of money for these bicycle maps and will follow the established route. Unless there's a road closure, I'm not going your way, because I have no idea how to find my way out of it if we get lost, or if we would even pass a town to fill up our water bottles. Again, I paid for these maps, so I'll stick to my planned route.
*Disclaimer: We are always very polite to everyone, but sometimes it's frustrating when it's one million degrees and we are overheated, and are asked the same questions 15 times a day.
We took a detour off route, but will be back on the TransAm tomorrow.
Today ended up being a very restful, unplanned day off. It involved a lot of sleeping, eating, and a trip to the theater to see the new Batman movie. McKinley swears I was sawing logs for most of it, but contrary to popular belief, I did see most of it. Yay for a movie on a rest day!
Kansas: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
So far, Kansas has some of the most curteous drivers that allow us all the space we need, and beyond. We've been honked at once, and it wasn't even a super angry horn, just a "get out of the road" little honk. I was still slightly miffed, but I'm liking Kansas drivers. Two thumbs up to that, Kansas!
The golden wheat fields and green corn fields, backed up against a powder blue sky, is just beautiful. At sunrise and sunset is when the fields are most magical.
Speaking of sunset, there's a benefit to night riding: lights! For being in the middle of nowhere, there sure are a lot of lights on the horizon. Mostly, they belong to factories, but they give the illusion of a city skyline, so it doesn't feel so barren and lonely in the night. Hooray for lights to perk up a night ride!
I'm convinced that Kansas is the armpit of America. It is, by far, the worst-smelling state I've ever visited. There's a plethora of oil drills lining the wheat fields, with ginormous holding tanks nearby; I didn't realize how putrid oil smells in mass quantities. They are everywhere! And then there's the smell of cattle between oil drills; sometimes there isn't any cattle in sight, but the smell is so overwhelming it practically knocks you over. I think farmers must use cow dung to fertilizer the land. Now, add in the 100+ degree heat and that really ups the stink factor; cattle, oil and extreme heat, my favorite combination!
So, that's my take on Kansas: great folks, pretty scenery and hideous aromas.
25 miles. We were chased by a coyote.
Yesterday, we napped on and off all afternoon in a basement classroom of United Methodist Church in Leoti. We had decided to sleep all day, and ride all night. Mike, an employee of the church, invited McKinley and I to dinner, post nap. We happily accepted his offer and made our way over to his home once we gathered ourselves.
We were greeted by Mike, his daughter Beth, and her not-so-shy 8 year old daughter, Madison; Everett, her 5 year old, wasn't too keen on visiting with us...yet.
Mike and Beth prepared a fabulous one-dish taco meal that was outstanding; I ate 3 helpings, plus all the side dishes.
After dinner, Madison brought us downstairs to their play room to watch a movie in their newly-constructed fort of blankets and pillows. It was full of pinks and purples, and ultra cozy. We all chose Monsters Inc and settled in under the fort.
Well, Everett decided it was time to warm up and hang out with his new friends. He wedged himself between McKinley and I and giggled his heart out, while Madison requested Beth to deliver us 4 root beer floats on trays; she said, "Mom, could you bring down root beer floats on a tray, and 2 for the girls?" What a little comic!
After the movie, we packed up and left. The kids were disappointed we were leaving, but it was their bed time and we had to make some miles. After taking a huge interest in McKinley's squeaky horn and posing for photos, Madison and Everett gave us the best send-off we've had yet; Madison blew a string of bubbles for us to ride through, and we rang our bells and horns for as long as we could see them. I think they loved it.
We loved our dinner and movie date, it will surely be difficult to top that one.
Night riding was rather unsuccessful. We rode 25 miles to the next town, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Also, we had been chased by an unknown animal; we couldn't see it since our lights point forward, but we heard it running at us and making an odd barky, yippie, howly noise. Eventually, he dropped off and we just kept pedaling. Once we arrived in town, Ted, a police officer, stopped to talk to us. When we described the noise, he confirmed it to be a coyote. So that just upped our badass level, we got chased by a freaking coyote! And that's the end of our night riding career.
Here's hoping this heat wave breaks.
Oh, how exhaustion has won again.
McKinley and I set our alarms for 4:30 am, but since our dumb (smart)phones never reset to Central Time, we woke up an hour late. During breakfast, neither of us could keep our eyes open, I could barely function; we decided to go back to sleep and just bang out a big day tomorrow. Big days are usually the plan, though we often do not make it quite as far.
New plan of action: get the entire riding day done by lunch, instead of trying to sleep in 100 degree shade to then continue riding into the night, never gaining enough sleep. Every day we seem to scheme up a new plan to avoid heat and exhaustion; we're still learning, apparently.
This rest days topic: the people of small-town America.
The majority of towns we pass through have a population of 300 or less, many being well under 100. When we hit a town with a population of over 500, it feels like being in the Big Apple. Excitement pours over me, knowing there might be options, as far as eateries and groceries go.
Anyway, back to the people. Towns are small, rugged, blue-collar communities with, typically, a one-stop shop. Everyone knows everyone, naturally. In small towns, there is a ton of pride. Every person knows the history of their community, which is something to be said, because after living 31 years in the same town, I couldn't give such a detailed description. At first glance, I would think some of these towns we're unsafe, when in reality, I've met some of the kindest, most generous and interesting people who probably do not even lock their doors. Every person who has chatted us up about our trip has been generally interested in what we are doing, and concerned for our safety. They give us road descriptions, and tell us where to watch out for crazy drivers. Small town America is much friendlier than any city I have ever been in, and I often feel more comfortable rolling through a town of 53 than 5,000; it just frustrates me, sometimes, to be limited to pre-packaged sandwiches and a lack of produce and fresh food.
This trip has made me more comfortable in these tiny, quiet towns, rather than in large, bustling communities.
Photo: spread night! We finally found a regular grocery store with produce...PRODUCE!
A bunch of miles that I lost track of. The plains are downright hot!
I'm starting to get behind with all this night riding to avoid the heat.
The last few days, in summary:
We rode out of Olney Springs at 4 am to make miles before the 100 plus degree heat smacked us. After a long, mid-day siesta, we finished riding at night. It's the only way to combat the heat.
Riding with the sunrise and sunset has been beautiful. The early mornings are cool and peaceful, and there's barely a car on the road. I'm so glad we started doing this, because it's my favorite time of day. As the sun comes up, the sky turns a vibrant pink, and as it sets, the sky has an orange hue to it. Everything just looks prettier and more interesting.
Yesterday we stopped in at a Bible Church to rest and wait out the heat. I lost all energy and had nothing left to give, so we ended up rolling out our sleeping bags and calling it a day. It was cozy and clean, and we had a huge kitchen to cook in. I even played a little ditty on the piano for kicks.
Earlier in the morning, we met 2 families of 12 on 6 tandems, riding west. I have never been more impressed to see young kids piloting tandems, clipped into the pedals, and very seasoned riders. One young fella about 13 seemed way beyond his years, as we talked about saddle sores and Gold Bond powder. An 8 year old let me test out her saddle and told me how great it was. And one other young girl checked to make sure everyone had enough water. I still can't get over how impressed I was; most young kids would rather be home horsing around all summer, but these kids were spending their summer on a bike with their parents. What incredible lessons they are gaining so early in life.
Today, we entered our 6th state, Kansas. We rolled up to the border just beyond sunrise and did a little jig of happiness. Kansas is flat, hot, dry, and full of corn and wheat fields. We're going to make some miles!
Just beyond the border, we met Tyler, a face I know from the Crazy Guy on a Bike site. He just graduated from high school and is now on his third tour, the first being the whole TransAm when he was 16. Neat.
Oh, and we are now more than half way to Virginia. Yep, we are awesome.
Ok, off to jump in the pool and cool down. Riding a bike is tough.
40 miles. Hot, hot heat.
Keeping it short, I'm exhausted.
We rode 20 miles, took a 3 hour break and watched 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea at Larry's (a retiree that likes to take care of cyclists), rode another 5 miles, sat under a tree for 4 hours, than started riding again at 7:30 pm. It was over 100 degrees in the shade, holy shit.
New plan of action from now on: wake up at 3, hit the road at 4 and pack in as many miles by lunch. If we get a lot of miles in, we will stop for the day, otherwise, we will finish at night. Repeat. It's the only way to beat this insane heat.
Ok, that is all. Oh wait, Bill left us this morning; I already miss his humor! Now I must call it a day, I'm waking up in 5 hours.
Photo: riding away from a beautiful sunset. The perks of night biking.
Zero miles. Happy birthday, McKinley!
After driving all over Colorado, I'm tired. Bill took us up to Colorado Springs, Denver, and a stop at Garden of the Gods. It's been a long day. Oh, and we both now have Keen bike sandals.
I said I would write about other things on off days, so I'll continue the trend.
Lately, I've been thinking about how long distance hiking and biking differ. One major difference on a bike, is that you get to experience a variety of places and landscapes in a short time. Hiking allows you to see a chain of mountains, beautiful vistas, and occasionally a town, but not see much beyond the mountains. On a bike, the ground beneath your tires is constantly changing. Being so mobile, you get to see a more expansive view of what each state has to offer. Though I'm only riding a thin ribbon through each state, I feel like I'm still seeing more of a variety via bicycle, than on foot. Not to discount hiking, it's my first love, but I'm just detailing a difference that I enjoy.
What I love about bike touring, is that I'm seeing so much in one short summer. I already can't wait for the next bike adventure.
Tomorrow, it's back to businesses, and by business, I mean biking and siesta-ing. Now that we're lower in elevation and hitting the plains, it's insanely hot. Hello, night riding!
We're off route for the night. Back to Pueblo tomorrow.
Exciting stuff, we're losing elevation all the way to Kansas! I'm supremely excited to be through with climbing for a few weeks, my legs demand a break. Now we will just have heat and headwinds, minus hills. Cool!
This mornings fun project entailed taking apart Bills bike and boxing it up to ship back to TN. Teamwork at its finest.
Super cool moment: drafting a van for 10 whole miles. Vans block way more wind than people do! I wouldn't trust just anyone as the driver, but I trust Bill 100% to drive as we drafted less than a foot behind the bumper at 18-25 mph. Also, mine and McKinley's handle bars were no more than 4" apart, side-by-side. That's trust.
As we move into eastern Colorado, the landscape is looking more like Wyoming: barren, dry and brown. Now that we lost about 6,000 feet of elevation, the mountains are disappearing and the land is flattening out. It feels strange to look into the distance and not see a string of peaks; it's been a month and a half of being sandwiched between gigantic mountain ranges. Kansas has a bad wrap, however, I'm looking forward to possibly seeing things others do not. We should be there in a few days.
Tomorrow is a big day: McKinley's birthday! I'm not sure what the day will entail, but Bill is going to take us to some bike shops to find bike sandals. Maybe we will ride, maybe we won't. I like winging each day, I feel so free of stress right now.
60ish miles. With 8 that don't count.
This morning gifted us the worlds most confusing bike path from Silverthorn to Breckenridge. The path itself was a lovely change from traffic, but the signage was poor, so we ended up going 4 miles in the wrong direction. So we lost a bit of time, but music made things better.
As we zipped down the path, I noticed a few people with ultra light packs on; they were CDT hikers! I stopped to talk to GI Joe and Dove Bar, and was able to give some trail magic in the form of a banana. We chatted a bit, and then McKinley and I continued down the confusing path to Breckenridge.
News flash: we conquered Hoosier Pass, the highest point on the TransAm! The climb wasn't as rough as I had expected, but I froze my ass off until the sleet and wind stopped
Towards the top of the pass, the switchbacks got tighter and steeper, and the trucks seemed to give us less room. Once I arrived at the top, McKinley and Bill were standing there with smiling faces. McKinley was so overjoyed; summiting Hoosier Pass means no more climbs until Missouri. Hooray! Admittedly, I was grouchy from being cold and wet, but I sure was excited to have ridden my bike up and over the Rocky Mountains. There haven't been many grouchy moments out here, but when there are, it's always weather-related.
Well, a goal of coasting down Hoosier was beating my max speed. Check. I clicked into the big ring, tucked in tight, and cranked on the pedals with everything I had to give; I watched my computer hit 44.6 mph! It was a long downhill, and I think I only touched my breaks 3 times around a few curves. McKinley hit a whopping 46.5, dang!
It's been a long day. We are sharing a dinner table with Doug and Jen, Great Divide riders, and calling it a day. I'm whooped!
A lot of miles (too tired to compute). Altitude is plagueing us.
Yesterday, Bill caught us almost at the top of Willow Creek Pass, so we dumped all of our gear in the van and finished the climb, moving a few mph faster. Let the sagging begin!
At the top of the pass, we met a few girls riding the Great Parks Loop. I guess I can't complain too much about all of this climbing, their whole trip seems to be a string of passes. Yikes, it sounds like an uber exhausting route, but beautiful.
Swiffer, a trail buddy from the AT, joined us to camp. It's been exactly 2 years since I last saw him, so it was great to catch up over a beer. The last time we hung out, he took me backpacking in the Rockies and taught me how to fly fish. Swiffer is quite the outdoorsman.
Today I felt more exhausted than ever on this adventure, I barely had any energy. At one point, I dropped a hand signal to McKinley that I had to pull over, and stopped just before a guard rail. For the first time, I cried a few tears of pure exhaustion. I think the quick elevation gain over the last few days is making us feel shitty; we both have been off our game a bit, even with barely any weight on our bikes, which is moderately insulting.
Towards the end of the day, McKinley started to feel awful; we seem to take turns. So, we did what any normal person would do to remedy that: headed directly to Target to go shopping! I bought new ipod speakers so we can jam out on rough days.
Tomorrow, we finally go over Hoosier Pass. Once we cross over, we will be on our way out of the Rockies, and back down to a much lower elevation. I'm ready to stop climbing hills for a while, it's exhausting the crap out of both of us. Bring on the flat plains!
Photo: the best sign a cyclist will ever see
So after breakfast, neither of us felt good and didn't want to ride, so a day of napping and tv was in order. I'm not sure if it's altitude-related, but we both had horrible headaches and just generally felt crappy.
Being that there's nothing to talk about on days off, I'll talk about other random things. Expect some ranting.
Cars: I've become unsympathetic to anyone with a motor (until I start driving again, of course). I'm not sorry that I may be out in the road and have delayed you .3 seconds. I'm not sorry that when the shoulder is actually more dangerous than the road, I take the lane. If you have to swerve around me and into the oncoming lane on an endless, and virtually car-less road, I don't feel bad that I've pissed you off to the point of honking at me. What's the big deal, we're in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
Horns: We've been honked at and flipped off many times since Idaho; I either wave in response, or just let it go. Nearly 1,700 miles later, I finally lost patience. After riding on the worst road yet (heavy traffic, semi's, and a shoulder that was un rideable and dangerous) I was feeling tense and aggravated. We had no choice but to ride in the lane, with semi's passing at supersonic speeds. When a car laid on its horn right next to us, I didn't hesitate to raise my arm and middle finger, and shout a big "FU." And that was the theme of the day. The road went from deadly to moderately deadly (pretend you didn't read that, mom). The shoulder had a rumble strip, then snakey tar patches that catch your tires and threaten to make you crash, and then gravel. Normally, the shoulder is safe and roomy, that was an exception.
And speaking of honking, I wish that I could blow a horn in a motorists ear. Honking a horn when you're 2 feet to my left is just downright terrifying. So, to anyone who honks next to a cyclist: it's extremely loud and jarring, please refrain. Would you like a horn blown into your car window?
End rant.
What's it like to ride a bike, day after day? Awesome! I love bike touring! I'm exploring so many places at a slow enough pace to see a lot in a short amount of time. I meet new and interesting people every single day, from all walks of life. I've gotten to experience different landscapes, weather and towns. I've traveled through larger cities, and I've traveled through towns as small as 35 people. I've notice that small town America works very hard at their blue-collar jobs, and has a lot of pride in their tiny communities. As much as I love hitting a big town with food options, I think I love these small towns even more. There's typically 1 or 2 stores that are multi-purposed. And everyone knows everyone. Small town America is just incredible.
I've learned so much already, and have been able to teach a thing or 2. I'm comfortable enough to ride a bike anywhere, and I'm confident enough to walk out my front door with just a road map, and wing a bike trip to anywhere. I was never nervous traveling all alone, and I wouldn't have an issue taking another trip alone. However, finding a riding partner was definitely the best thing that has happened to me out here, and traveling with friends is always more fun. Plus, talking to animals just gets old. McKinley and I often chat while riding, but we also ride in a comfortable silence. Sometimes we sing, sometimes I play a harmonica (horribly), sometimes we moo at cows and laugh. It's comforting knowing there's always somebody there, even if we go a few miles, just listening to pedal strokes.
And that's all the random thoughts I feel like writing about for now. Maybe I'll continue the theme on the rest of my off days. TBD.
111 miles. Welcome to Colorful Colorado, as the sign says.
We biked most of the way, but as the sun was lowering itself in the sky, we decided that biking in the pitch black wasn't safe. Up went our thumbs, and the first car pulled over; it was a pickup truck hauling a trailer with another pickup. Perfect! They were a friendly couple in their 50's from Astoria, OR, where this grand adventure began.
We left Rawlins at 6 and cruised most of the morning. Around 9:30, we came upon a sag vehicle for a group of young 20 somethings, riding across the US to raise money for young adults with cancer. They had all the van doors open and were blasting hip hop music; I shook my booty a bit and we all chatted with the riders. Most were from Baltimore, but they were from all over. And they fed us, so it's always a plus running into a supported ride.
In passing, we met Don and Dottie, a very chipper couple in their early 60's, riding the TransAm west-bound. Dottie had a smiley face slinky hanging from her shifter. When she's having a rough day, she looks at the smiley face and it cheers her up.
After lunch, we were smacked with another strong headwind. Gahhh, it is so frustrating to push the pedals hard on a downhill. We tried drafting, but the crosswinds made it difficult. Maybe Colorado will have more trees to block the wind? Oh, and it is colorful - green grass!
We cooked dinner in the city park where we are camping. Broccoli cheddar rice was my gourmet dinner, with roasted almonds as an appetizer. There's a few other cyclists here too, going west on the TransAm. One fellow is from NY and maintains a section of the AT, just north of Pawling, NY.
The below photo is of Bill helping McKinley see if she needed to make any saddle adjustments. I was being sneaky, waiting to capture a fall, but alas, it didn't happen :)
Oh, and that was my disgusting lunch of champions, from Family Dollar.
35 miles. Don't judge.
Since McKinley and I are feeling stressed to make up miles and Bill is ready to stop biking, he's going to sag us for a bit. We plan to do all centuries (or more), back to back. That should help us get through Colorado quickly, and straight into the flat, hot plains of Kentucky.
I am certain I will be the first person to cross the country by bicycle, and actually gain weight. Is that even possible? I mean, we bike all day, so how am I sporting a gut? Once we hit va, I'm going on an all-vegetable diet, so I may be found passed out on the side of the road, starved and malnourished.
Not to keep complaining about head winds, but when will we get a tail wind? When the wind is in our favor, it lasts maybe a mile or 2, and turns around to smack us in the face or side. We are constantly in a head wind; It's tough, mentally, to want to keep riding all day. Today, I fought to pedal at 8 mph on a downhill. That's slow.
Tomorrow we are going to push as far as we can, hopefully 90-100 miles. Once Bill gets a rental car, he will meet back up and start sagging. For now, he's going to figure out how the heck to get out of the middle of nowhere. Apparently, Rawlins has lots of fast food, but no way to leave unless you have a bike or your own car.
Wyoming has been hot, virtually cloudless, and treeless. It is desert-like, dry, and brown with specks of a sage green. Today, I found a cactus when attempting to hide behind a 1 foot tall shrub to pee; the desert is not conducive to a female peeing roadside. Though Wyoming sounds ugly and boring, it has been beautiful. I am, however, looking forward to some new roads and landscape.
50 miles. I'm sleeping in a teepee.
We planned to get to Rawlins today, but got derailed first thing this morning by a beefy breakfast, served up by the Mormons. They were some of the nicest people that were so welcoming and were generally interested in what we are doing.
There were probably 100 people, re enacting the pilgrimage of their ancestors to Salt Lake City, Utah. Part of the reason they do this, is to not only honor their ancestors, but to teach their children that life can be difficult and there will be many hardships. I never spent any time with Mormons before now, but most were just normal, everyday people. And no, none were polygamists, which surprised me.
Today, I finally put some of those skills to good use that Andy taught me, and I'm now thankful I'm carrying a heavy chain whip. Bill broke a spoke, so I had the job of replacing it and truing his wheel. I was so excited that, for the first time with no help, I used my mechanical skills. Also, I was able to teach McKinley in the process; I love being able to pass on knowledge that I know will get used.
I have no idea how to explain the place we're camping. It's a bicycle camp on the property of a very sweet woman, who is apparently a hoarder. There's shit everywhere, we barely had any room to roll our bikes through the driveway. She had us help her drag a shitty old bed into a teepee and do some minor construction to the bed frame. Bill swung a hammer while McKinley and I gave each other the "wtf" look. So weird. She does have a super awesome dog, Maggie, who wags her tail incessantly. If I could keep her, I would; I love her personality. The cats, however, are giving me a raging allergy attack.
Ok, I must eat my free ice cream before bed. It would be a crime to not have my second helping of ice cream for the day!
2 days of adventure. Fourth of July parades are awesome.
My phone potentially ate my last entry, and I'm not retyping it.
Here's the last few days in a nutshell: visited Sackajaweas grave site, celebrated the 4th of July in Lander by bicycling in their parade (we didn't ask, we just jumped in), drank a few beers at Lander Brewery, biked a little, and melted from extreme heat. So I ate a lot of ice cream!
McKinley and I have decided to buy a tandem to take on our next tour. We bike at the exact same pace and are always in the same gear, so how neat would it be to be on the same bike?! The only downside would be that we ride side by side as often as possible to chat, and we wouldn't be able to on a tandem. Basically, I've met my perfect cycling partner; we are both still amazed that we have the same pace and riding style (a million breaks and siestas).
Switching gears. (Will, this is for you). So I was asked for a gear review, so all non cyclists could fast forward through this.
Panniers: love my ortliebs, though my left one now has gashes in it from my fall off of Lolo Pass. They truly are waterproof, and have enough room to fit all of my gear.
Pedals: love love my Shimano spd's and mountain bike shoes. I'll probably switch to keen spd sandals after the rockies though, my feet get overheated easily. The pedals are holding up great.
Tools: I haven't needed more than a multi tool...yet...but I'm loving my topeak tool. It also has a chain tool, which I did use once to remove links/give a lesson on removing pins
Tires: schwalbe marathon plus, and not a single flat...yet. hoping to keep it at zero. McKinley has the stock tires (continental city contact) that mine also had, and she has had 5 flats.
Rear rack: topeak something or other, I forget the model name. It was not my original rack, but so far its held up great. I'm still waiting on my box to return home and get my Tubus cargo rack to finish the trip.
Front rack: a crappy aluminum converted rear rack, which typically only carries 5 lbs max and is doing just fine. Not my first choice, but it gets the job done.
Pump: topeak road morph-don't leave home without it.
Saddle: Brooks Flyer S. Even thouh it has nearly 2,000 miles on it, its still not soft enough. But I love it and I'm very comfortable on it. Next tour I may choose something with a center cut out for less squash.
Next tour I will get small, cheap front panniers to stabilize the bike. McKinley and I swapped bikes for a few miles so I could feel the difference, and it definitely helps to have weight in the front.
Hope that helps, Will! :)
Shooting for Rawlins tomorrow, bigish day.
65 miles. A million cyclists.
Today brought us a huge climb up Togwotee Pass. About 5 of the 20ish miles had to be in the back of a pickup due to massive construction. There's a road crew that shuttles cyclists through the disaster zone, and acts as the pilot car, leading a line of traffic up the pass. The section we were shuttled up, luckily, was the steepest. I couldn't complain.
We were passed by 60 cyclists on road bikes, all being sagged across the US. Wimps! Kidding. But there's nothing like a self-supported adventure.
We took a long siesta at a lodge half way up the pass, and napped on their porch. McKinley and I arrived an hour before poppa McKinley, so we got pizza and beer while we waited for Bill.
This morning as we turned away from the Tetons, we kept getting distracted with taking pictures. Photos will never capture the magnitude of the mountains, so it almost feels pointless to try, but I couldn't stop. They are some of the most beautiful mountains I've ever seen.
Speaking of mountains, we are now riding through the Wind River Range. The mountains are pink sandstone, perfectly striped with ribbons of white. They look like the Painted Hills in Oregon, though I didn't go off route to see them.
We need to start figuring out how we are getting around the wild fires in Colorado, because I heard a few passes we cross are closed. I sure hope Hoosier Pass is clear, it's where we cross the Rockies and is the highest pass on the TransAm, reaching nearly 12,000 feet. I've been excited about it since I started planning this adventure.
Bed time, my eyes are sleepy.
40 miles. Happy to be out of Yellowstone!
Today, we were tailgated by rv's going downhill at nearly 40 mph. I loathe rv's. And I loathe that they fill the roads of a national park. We are so, so happy to be out of the park; it made McKinley and I equally miserable to travel through such an overly populated place.
Leaving the park brought us into the outer edges of Grand Teton National Park; holy beauty, I couldn't believe that what I was seeing was real. We rode alongside jagged, snow-capped mountains that rise 12,000 feet above the ground. The mountains seem to go on forever. I always think I've seen the most magical place ever, and something always supersedes it.
As we rode along the Tetons and a lake that I cannot recall it's name, aspen trees were in abundance. I remember them from hiking in the Rockies 2 years ago, and fell in love. The white bark looks similar to a paper birch, but it does not peel. There was also lots of Indian Paint Brush along todays route.
We made friends with Ben, a guy from upstate NY riding the Great Divide mountain bike route. Our routes paralleled for a handful of miles. Ben Is an adorable soul with a contagious laugh, and riding a single-speed mountain bike with extreme minimal gear. He also hiked the AT in 2003. Small world, I keep running into AT hikers out here. Somewhere along the road of life, I hope to connect with Ben again; he had a catchy, happy personality.
Towards the end of today, the forest looked and smelled like Maine. I inhaled deep breaths of warm, springy alpine air, and smiled at the memories that flooded my brain. Certain scents will always remind me of specific places on the trail.
Some days are harder than others, and the last few have been a bit frustrating. But, I'm riding a bike across the freakin United States. Life doesn't get much better than that.
40ish miles? Yellowstone, we need to break up.
Yellowstone is beautiful, but I don't think I'll ever bike through here again. Every other vehicle is an rv, usually towing a car, and there are thousands of people everywhere. And not only did I pay an entrance fee, but then there's a camping fee. And a shower fee. And then you have to stand in line for 30 minutes to take a shower. I miss small town America already. Get me OUT of here!
Today was hot and hilly, so we took lots of breaks. We ran into some girls we met at the ACA, and they're now traveling with Ben, a cyclist mapping his own route.
A few highlights of today: a family of bison, crossing the Continental Divide 3 times, getting fed sodas, shrimp, fruit and cheese by a traveling family (one from NJ), hitting my max speed of 40.3 mph on a sweet downhill, and seeing the majestic Tetons on that very downhill. That view made today's challenges almost seem insignificant.
It's been a day. I'm looking forward to leaving the park tomorrow and getting back to some quieter roads with less traffic.
