Finally! Another chance to update! I would explain but, I mean, it's rural Kansas. I'm sure you can imagine that the internet is a rare commodity.
That's not to knock rural Kansas at all. Our time out in America's geographical heart has been absolutely lovely. The mornings have given way to beautiful sunny summer days, and the wide, open, rolling hills of wheat and wildgrass, sprinkled with the occasional fence, tractor, and herd of cattle, make it profoundly clear that we are, suddenly, out of nowhere, in the mighty West.
Clay Center wasn't exactly full of hustle and bustle, but that was great because it kind of forced people to stay in, chill, and bond. I actually wound up discovering one of my new favorite movies that night: "Into The Wild". Jen, Heather, Raleigh and Jesse all insisted since the start of the trip that I would love it, and loving it might still be an understatement. It was a really well-done film. It romanticizes travel, adventure and people in a way that makes me want to keep moving at a pace like this for the rest of my life, and it reaffirms my faith in the positive spiritual power of nature and exploration. Also the soundtrack is really good, and it's peppered with these great quotes from the transcendentalist era, which I'm all for. I even enjoyed the ending. Really I found it just more...powerful than sad.
After the screening of Into The Wild the night gave way to a fantastic cuddling session. Bike & Builders are an affectionate bunch.
So then there was the ride to Beloit the next morning, which was filled with the iconic images I've grown accustomed to thinking of when I think of this state. Moving across this part of the country actually feels a lot more like sailing than biking. First of all, we are at the mercy of the wind, and many times over the last few days I've found myself hooting, hollering, and in weaker moments swearing as we get tossed around by the unforgiving headwinds. If I wasn't before, I'm now a big believer in wind power. Not only do the windmills out here look awesome, but there's just so much raw power out here that can be utilized. Second, the seemingly endless horizon and rolling golden waves of grain. It's like an ocean, and we are like little ships, moving from island to island, treated on occasion to the images of nature's splendor but for the most part left to ponder and reflect as we cross the landscape.
Hay bails dotted the countryside and the team now has some really fantastic requisite On-Top-Of-Hay-Bails photos. After most people started rolling away I layed out on m back and just stared up at the sky for a few minutes. Thinking. Appreciating. being aware and feeling free. It was summer defined.
For the ride to Beloit we agreed as a team to mix it up and ride with folks we usually don't ride with, and I had the privilege of riding with Sarah Crawford, who I always suspected was a really good person, but am absolutely certain after that ride. We had a great talk. About some pretty profound stuff. It came at the perfect time because to be honest I've been in an inexplicable funk for the last few days, and I think it's because I have allowed myself to get complacent and stop searching for the spiritual value in this trip. Now that part's entirely recharged, though. I'm moving with purpose. I'm listening for direction. I'm allowing this trip to really change me and it feels good.
So that's half the inspiration for the title for this update. I've been feeling a little lost and distracted, but the magnitude of this state and journey has helped me rediscover why I'm doing this. I joined this trip because I felt compelled and was looking for growth through challenge. I'm now recommitted. I haven't felt this good about myself in a long time.
The second bit of inspiration for the title is that I saw it on a shirt in the town that night. "Beloit, Kansas: Gently Resisting Change Since 1830!"
Folks really cling to tradition out here and I think it's because it's been proven to work. It's also a means by which to honor a person's roots. These towns have been quaint and quiet and charmingly conservative. We enjoyed some delicious malts and floats at the soda fountain in Beloit and I felt like I was part of a way of life that stretched back for decades. We meandered over to the municipal center to get our showers and I was pulled to inspect this collage of portraits of all of Beloit's mayors. Jesse and I decided, based off their portraits, which one was the evil one, the one every body wishes was still mayor, the mysterious one, etc. The first mayor of Beloit, a man by the name of Hersey, looked and dressed like Abraham Lincoln, but his beard was even more serious business. History's neat. People are neat. And, on a shallower level, mid-to-late 19th century fashion rides this awesome line between "sharp" and "hilarious".
having seen all of Beloit I needed to see I returned to the church and enjoyed a nap on an actual cushion. Another rare commodity. I literally slept until I was shook awake for dinner. I groggily fumbled for my laptop because that night I was meant to give my Affordable Housing presentation to the group. I was prepared like a month ago when we started the trip, but a month of non-stop motion and 1700 miles under my wheels led me rushing to refamiliarize myself with the information.
I got lucky though. Someone caught wind that Toy Story 3 was playing at the local theater, and the excitement of going to see the movie spread like wildfire. It didn't take much to persuade the leaders to postpone presentations. By 7:15 we were out the door, moving as a massive pack towards a theater that was literally the size of a small barn. The movie was great. I highly, *highly* recommend that people go see it, but especially folks of my generation. The story, especially the ending, is really catered to folks like me who grew up spell-bound by the original two Toy Story movies. It was satisfying, inspiring, and just downright entertaining. I even shed a tear at the end. Disney is great.
The next morning was the ride to Phillipsburg, which aesthetically isn't really notably different from the ride in between Clay Center and Beloit. Still wide. Still rolling. Still colorful. Still stunningly beautiful. During the morning I was part of a massive pace-line. Traffic was calm enough to where we were able to do a double-line, both lines at least eight riders strong. We moved fast and with tremendous purpose, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of Team. This team is great, these people are great, and we have already accomplished some great things. It's an honor to ride with these folks and share this experience. I've never felt so close to a group in just over a month, and they've taught me that with the right friends on my side I really can do anything I set myself to do.
So we rolled as a mighty herd of bikers across the plains. For those first 19 miles we hummed. Our destination was Phillipsburg, but the whole team was dreaming of Cawker City, home of the World's Largest Ball of Twine.
At mile 20 Derrick excitedly screamed and pointed out the ball, which was under a gazebo just off the road. I can't lie. That was certainly a big ball of twine. According to the sign it was started in the fifties, and the total length of the twine used to make it was about 1500 miles, just a little less than the distance we've biked. *That* was a cool thought, reflecting on all of our work and seeing it physically symbolized in this enormous ball of twine. Naturally we all climbed it and took pictures. We all got ironically excited. I signed the guest book and met Lettie, keeper of the ball, and a woman name Linda, her accomplice, who let me add a piece of twine to the ball.
That was also a surprisingly cool moment. I walked around the ball, adding my string, and thought about all the other people and stories which have gone into creating that big smelly ball. People are neat.
We danced around the ball and Derrick led us in a very New Age session in which we drew power from the ball and exerted it out into the world. After we were wholly satisfied we moved along and cranked it to lunch. Many of us got a kick out of watching Britt, who has been riding in the van for the last few days do to a spill she took which banged up her hip. She was totally content at the time though, buzzing on percocet and drawing interesting images in the road with our chalk.
After lunch I rode with Emily, Jesse, and Kristen, and we passed the time by doing "Top 5" lists. My favorite was the Top 5 ridiculous action movies list I tossed back and forth with Jesse. Nothing beats Indiana Jones. That's science.
Before we knew it we were in Phillipsburg, and we enjoyed a celbratory round of burgers and fries at a local institution called the Chubby Pickle. Now, there are many different ways a hamburger can be delicious. There are the grilled burgers with families, the gourmet burgers at upscale restaurants, but the best is the greaseball burger, and Phillipsburg's "Super Chubby" is one of the best I may ever have. It was just all kinds of satisfying. Nothing fancy, just a really good burger with fries and a cold root beer. I was left totally satisfied, and also scored a really amazing shirt. The logo is great, with a creepy pickle mascot waving out to you, and the city name and the name of the highway we've been biking through Kansas on. The real clincher though is the color, which can only be described as "Neon Glow Stick Yellow". I swear this shirt actually radiates light. It's absurd. It's the best souvenir I've maybe ever gotten.
I fell into my traditional afternoon nap and again was only stirred awake when dinenr rolled around. This was a new host in Phillipsburg, so we had the privilege of introducing them to all things Bike & Build. Dinner crew gave a great presentation and I cameo'd to describe my outfit from Dia de los Locos. The congregation was all kinds of sweet, especially an older woman named Eve who insisted on giving us all hugs, and another woman who, inspecting Heather's tattoos, folksily commented her belief that "If God wanted me to have funny pictures all over my body I figure he'd've put 'em there. But heck, it's a new generation".
We had another great Town Hall meeting, all of us sharing our highs and lows, reading warm fuzzies, and this time also each confessing to something, because we're now officially comfortable with each other to a fault.
Then today we rode to Oberlin! The morning started off with jazz, a hot breakfast, and some coffee, so by the time I hopped on the bike I was beyond ready to roll. I rode at my own pace for most of the morning, which was uncharacteristically fast, but I didn't see a reason to slow down. I cranked through a great headwind and continued to soak in the countryside. My favorite moment of the morning was when I rode past a group of cows, and they all at once decided to run alongside me. They didn't keep up for long becase, well, they're cows, but it was a cool little connection. I found myself exploring the fascinating cultural perception of cows. In the States, they're considered pretty low animals. In India, they're sacred. Every creature is sacred, really.
Lunch was right across the street from a Dairy Queen. Since the temperature was supposed to work up to over 100 by the afternoon many of us decided to wait around, nap, and wait for the DQ to open to get some ice cream. I enjoyed a fantastic banana split and discussed plans for the "Brolympics" with Joe and Will. That's a story for another post. Get excited.
Not much new to speak of for the ride into Oberlin. More sun, more wheat, more fields, more cows, more of that wide open space and that sense that I'm no longer anywhere close to home, and I'm truly working along the frontier. The way the hills are laid out here you could see Oberlin from 5 miles away, which was a very cool sensation. Like Zach said at dinner, I felt like a cowboy working across the frontier, riding on my iron horse into a new town to write a new story.
So tonight I gave my presentation on Rent Control and was happily surprised by how much the group enjoyed it. I had a few people come up to me afterwards and tell me that not only were they impressed at how easily I broke down the idea of price ceilings and supply and demand, but it was evidence that I woulf be a great teacher some day. Tht was great for my ego.
Aaaaaaaaand that's about all I have to say. I didn't realize how packed these days were until I saw how long this post was just now. These have been good days. For now I will sleep to prepare for my sweep day into St. Francis tomorrow. Colorado in two days! Denver on Monday! Whoa!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Day 35: Clay Center, Kansas: "Floodgate"
Sleep in Lawrence was maybe the worst I've had on the entire trip. It started off promising, but we hit a big snag at around 1:30 in the morning when Mark opened the hallway door to go use the bathroom, and wound up setting off the high school's alarm system. At first it seemed manageable. Every 5 seconds or so it would briefly beep, and then go perfectly silent. Mark and Sharif were trying to hush it but there wasn't much of a rush.
Then that alarm kicked into a whole new gear, and it sounded like the world was coming to an end. It was actually really funny in hindsight. As it sped up and got louder, I heard the whole team release a collective groan. Fortunately, the teacher who was in charge of hosting us lived right across the street, and was over in no more than 5 minutes. During those five minutes however I was in a dark place. I knew it was gonna be a long ride to Manhattan and this was the last thing I wanted to happen. Life's funny that way though.
So we all grudgingly stirred from sleep bright and early to take on the day. It was difficult to stay angry for too long, though, considering how beautiful the morning was, and the fact that our first day off was waiting for us on the other side of the ride. We worked back onto the state highway and hugged the shoulder all day. In turn we were treated to another gorgeous Kansas summer day. We were promised another dire storm but only rolled under a few gray clouds. Our rain jackets wound up being totally unecessary. After that, they day broke away to reveal a gorgeous day, cruisy flat roads, and a delicious tail wind that let us practically glide to Manhattan.
I don't know if this makes perfect sense but I feel obligated to discuss the Kansas sky. It's enormous, because there aren't any mountains or trees to obscure the view. You can see up and out for miles, which makes for some pretty surreal sights. On one side there might be a thunderstorm raging, which abruptly ends overhead to reveal a stunning, pure blue sky. There was a really cool part of the ride where you could actually see the rain falling like a misty waterfall out of a cloud. The drops were lit up from behind by a blue sky in the distance. It was both bizarre and beautiful, which I think just about sums up Kansas as a whole.
That tailwind and flat allowed us to absolutely fly as well. I averaged a good 20 miles without any serious effort. that's nothing compared to Noah, however, who actually got up to 49.8 mph at one point. On a bike. Can you imagine? Talk about a rush.
So before we knew it we were in Kansas, and we had the next 24 hours ahead of us in which to do whatever the heck we wanted. We joke on BNB that at any given point we are either eating, sleeping, biking, or building. Since we couldn't bike or build, that left us with a lot of eating and sleeping, and people celebrated the day off accordingly.
Manhattan's great. It's the Little Apple! Kansas State University's located there, so it's dripping with Cool College Town goodness. Our first night there we went downtown to explore the bar scene and were left wholly satisfied with the scene at the Last Chance Saloon. The team enjoyed much revelry and stayed out later than any Bike & Builder should, but too many good times were had to peace out early.
I spent the next full day just soaking in the accommodations at our host site, which was the very best one we've had on the entire trip. The best way to describe it is what Laura said at dinner the first night there: it was as if some eccentric billionaire just gave us the keys and unrestricted access to his fabulous mansion. There were enough couches and secluded rooms for everyone to sleep like babies. The youth room, in the basement, was packed wall to wall with awesome stuff, including a ping pong table, a flat screen TV, and Rock Band. I spent the morning excitedly watching the World Cup. It was a smalltime match, Chile vs. Switzerland, and it was on telemundo so I couldn't understand the sportscasters, but it was the fact that I was actually watching a game that got me thrilled. After that Joe, Britt, Andy, Carboni and I traded licks on the church's copy of Rock Band and had some pretty fantastic sets. Emma's vocals for "Man In The Box" by Alice In Chains was easily one of my favorite things ever. Without knowing Emma or the song I guess it's kind of hard to appreciate on the same level, but basically imagine the smallest, spaciest, most adorable girl on the trip singing one of the angriest songs you can imagine, without knowing any of the melody, and making no effort to learn it.
After Rock Band I took a 4 hour nap. I haven't slept that well in at least a month.
We ate with the church members at dinner and enjoyed a feast that is perhaps only paralleled by the feast from "How The Grinch Stole Christmas". Hot dogs soaked in beer broth, asian salad, home-made enchiladas, chips, salsa, baked beans, and for desert I had an innappropriately large serving of jello salad. It was pick and fluffy and life-changing. After dinner we worked out our food babies with a stomach-stretching/head-scratching party, which was delightfully peaceful, but we can only go so long without a ruckus being raised on Bike & Build.
Out of no where, from the other room, Jesse Young and Will Green ran in, shirtless, with the biggest ball I've ever seen. It was easily 4 feet in diameter, if not more. Naturally this became the center of attention, and we made a fabulous game out of trying to ride the ball like a bull, and timing how long we could stay on it before it flung us onto the carpet. I did not win. I did reopen the scab on my knee. But hey, I wasn't out to prove anything.
We had another excellent night of sleep and woke up this morning to take on the ride into Clay Center. At 40 miles, it was nothing short of a joke. It was, however, a beautiful joke. The entire team made it here by noon, with enough time to invade the local Wendy's for frosties. I took advantage of the extra time today to catch up on my trip homework. Now that it's out of the way, and now that I'm over-caffeinated because jen made some exquisite coffee, I suppose it makes sense to finish this post, log off, and go have some fun with my pals.
So, overall, with the day off in consideration, mission accomplished. I feel totally recharged on every level from the physical to the spiritual, and I'm ready to push through this state and into the true West.
Then that alarm kicked into a whole new gear, and it sounded like the world was coming to an end. It was actually really funny in hindsight. As it sped up and got louder, I heard the whole team release a collective groan. Fortunately, the teacher who was in charge of hosting us lived right across the street, and was over in no more than 5 minutes. During those five minutes however I was in a dark place. I knew it was gonna be a long ride to Manhattan and this was the last thing I wanted to happen. Life's funny that way though.
So we all grudgingly stirred from sleep bright and early to take on the day. It was difficult to stay angry for too long, though, considering how beautiful the morning was, and the fact that our first day off was waiting for us on the other side of the ride. We worked back onto the state highway and hugged the shoulder all day. In turn we were treated to another gorgeous Kansas summer day. We were promised another dire storm but only rolled under a few gray clouds. Our rain jackets wound up being totally unecessary. After that, they day broke away to reveal a gorgeous day, cruisy flat roads, and a delicious tail wind that let us practically glide to Manhattan.
I don't know if this makes perfect sense but I feel obligated to discuss the Kansas sky. It's enormous, because there aren't any mountains or trees to obscure the view. You can see up and out for miles, which makes for some pretty surreal sights. On one side there might be a thunderstorm raging, which abruptly ends overhead to reveal a stunning, pure blue sky. There was a really cool part of the ride where you could actually see the rain falling like a misty waterfall out of a cloud. The drops were lit up from behind by a blue sky in the distance. It was both bizarre and beautiful, which I think just about sums up Kansas as a whole.
That tailwind and flat allowed us to absolutely fly as well. I averaged a good 20 miles without any serious effort. that's nothing compared to Noah, however, who actually got up to 49.8 mph at one point. On a bike. Can you imagine? Talk about a rush.
So before we knew it we were in Kansas, and we had the next 24 hours ahead of us in which to do whatever the heck we wanted. We joke on BNB that at any given point we are either eating, sleeping, biking, or building. Since we couldn't bike or build, that left us with a lot of eating and sleeping, and people celebrated the day off accordingly.
Manhattan's great. It's the Little Apple! Kansas State University's located there, so it's dripping with Cool College Town goodness. Our first night there we went downtown to explore the bar scene and were left wholly satisfied with the scene at the Last Chance Saloon. The team enjoyed much revelry and stayed out later than any Bike & Builder should, but too many good times were had to peace out early.
I spent the next full day just soaking in the accommodations at our host site, which was the very best one we've had on the entire trip. The best way to describe it is what Laura said at dinner the first night there: it was as if some eccentric billionaire just gave us the keys and unrestricted access to his fabulous mansion. There were enough couches and secluded rooms for everyone to sleep like babies. The youth room, in the basement, was packed wall to wall with awesome stuff, including a ping pong table, a flat screen TV, and Rock Band. I spent the morning excitedly watching the World Cup. It was a smalltime match, Chile vs. Switzerland, and it was on telemundo so I couldn't understand the sportscasters, but it was the fact that I was actually watching a game that got me thrilled. After that Joe, Britt, Andy, Carboni and I traded licks on the church's copy of Rock Band and had some pretty fantastic sets. Emma's vocals for "Man In The Box" by Alice In Chains was easily one of my favorite things ever. Without knowing Emma or the song I guess it's kind of hard to appreciate on the same level, but basically imagine the smallest, spaciest, most adorable girl on the trip singing one of the angriest songs you can imagine, without knowing any of the melody, and making no effort to learn it.
After Rock Band I took a 4 hour nap. I haven't slept that well in at least a month.
We ate with the church members at dinner and enjoyed a feast that is perhaps only paralleled by the feast from "How The Grinch Stole Christmas". Hot dogs soaked in beer broth, asian salad, home-made enchiladas, chips, salsa, baked beans, and for desert I had an innappropriately large serving of jello salad. It was pick and fluffy and life-changing. After dinner we worked out our food babies with a stomach-stretching/head-scratching party, which was delightfully peaceful, but we can only go so long without a ruckus being raised on Bike & Build.
Out of no where, from the other room, Jesse Young and Will Green ran in, shirtless, with the biggest ball I've ever seen. It was easily 4 feet in diameter, if not more. Naturally this became the center of attention, and we made a fabulous game out of trying to ride the ball like a bull, and timing how long we could stay on it before it flung us onto the carpet. I did not win. I did reopen the scab on my knee. But hey, I wasn't out to prove anything.
We had another excellent night of sleep and woke up this morning to take on the ride into Clay Center. At 40 miles, it was nothing short of a joke. It was, however, a beautiful joke. The entire team made it here by noon, with enough time to invade the local Wendy's for frosties. I took advantage of the extra time today to catch up on my trip homework. Now that it's out of the way, and now that I'm over-caffeinated because jen made some exquisite coffee, I suppose it makes sense to finish this post, log off, and go have some fun with my pals.
So, overall, with the day off in consideration, mission accomplished. I feel totally recharged on every level from the physical to the spiritual, and I'm ready to push through this state and into the true West.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Day 32: Lawrence, Kansas: "Scott Podsednik Vs. The Apocalypse"
I loved everything about our hosts in Kansas City except for one small thing: the Creepiest Painting I've Ever Seen. It took the breath out of all of us while we passed it to drop our bikes off in the hallway. Derrick was, in fact, speechless.
So there's this clown. You know he's a clown only because he has clown makeup and a bowler hat on. Other than that, from the neck down, he's dressed like Carl from "Aqua Teen Hunger Force". For those of you who don't want to run that image search, we're basically talking sweaty, hairy, pot-bellied dude in a wife-beater. And he has clown makeup on.
The scene: Carl the Clown is sitting on a cloud in what I can only assume is Clown Heaven. The clouds are puffy white collections of the faces of other clowns, and two Clown-angels are attaching wings to Carl's back.
Somewhere my Mom is screaming.
I honestly went into Kansas City with pretty low expectations but found myself incredibly surprised. As it turns out KC has a lot of What's Good, and also a healthy amount of Good People. Our two Build Days with KC's Habitat were the team's very favorite Build Days thus far. We drove over after sleeping in 'til 7 and met the staff, then meandered over to the work shop and got to work. We spent those two days constructing walls from scratch, which is some of the most satisfying/team-oriented construction work you can ask for. There's something for everyone: wood-cutting, hammering, measuring, and as a cherry on top people have to cooperate as a giant lift to push the wall up to a standing position.
So the work was in and of itself fun, but so was everything else about those Build Days. We were in a shady workshop, which was truly a blessing considering the heat index in KC jumped to 105 by noon both days. Also, there was delicious barbecue. Also, there was an adorable puppy named Daisy. Daisy's owner was the foreman, a big burly dude with a big burly personality named Jeff. Jeff was huge, bald, bearded, muscled, and his hands and mind were worked raw from decades of construction work. The kind of guy you go fishing with, or to a biker bar. He was eager to meet everyone on the team and got a big kick out of all of us, and we, in turn, got a big kick out of him. With Jeff's excitement and our sheer man-power we accomplished a considerable amount. We threw up all the walls for the first story of a house, with enough time left over for an epic impromptu dance-party in the workshop and time to construct two respectable dog houses for the future resident's pets.
So in summary our building time was a hoot, and, as I wound up saying in a speech to our hosts during a presentation that night, it really reaffirms my commitment to this trip and my general faith in humanity and service.
And KC didn't stop being awesome once we got off site. Emily, always the charmer, made some calls and managed to score the entire team free tickets to a Kansas City Royals baseball game. Now, normally I'm not a huge Royals fanatic, nor a huge follower of baseball, nor, to carry on, a big sports fan, but I am a huge fan of free things, and that night solidified my notions that there is a profound difference between just watching a game on TV and actually attending it.
Our seats were great. We were right behind home plate, and just high enough to be able to see the entire field but not so high up that we couldn't see the ball. Zach, who actually *is* a huge baseball fan, said we were in the ideal spot because that's where all the kids sit, and kids get really into baseball. It was really a perfect baseball experience, and we hit all the stops. Those of age got beers, those not of age got hot dogs. it was a perfect temperature and the sky over the field was a perfect shade of orange as the sunset. I bought a KC Royals hat and I must say I look darn good in it. The air was filled with cheers, the sounds of the game, and that iconic organ. There was a 7th inning stretch featuring a stadium-wide sing-along to "I've Got Friends In Low Places". Zach and I got goofy and came up with some fantastic commentary to yell out to the players. We couldn't stop laughing at the name of one of the Royals, Scott Podsednik, who incidentally hit a homer which led to the Royals actually winning the game. It's been almost three days now and almost every time we see each other we still yell "Podsednik!"
Scott Podsednik. What a hero.
Our second night the team had a Town Hall meeting, which is *supposed* to be when we heir grievances and work out team business, but, in the nature of everything else CUS'10 does, we've turned it into something fun and happy. My new favorite team tradition, second only to the 20 seconds of '80s dancing we do in the mornings, are the Warm Fuzzies we read during Town Hall meetings. We keep a box in the van in which anyone can write a supportive message to anyone else on the team, and all of them are read aloud. There are many snaps, many laughs, many hugs, and many tender moments. I'm such a sucker for it, you don't even know.
I'm also a huge sucker for our KC hosts, who planned to pray for each of us individually today. So sweet.
And we definitely needed it, for today's ride will live in infamy.
I don't think it's possible for a route to turn so many times on its own head as the one from KC to Lawrence did today. The madness started right away when we hopped on to the Indian Creek biking trail. We were all stoked for it, because according to the local yokels it was paved and beautiful. They we right in these regards, but I seriously doubt it was really designed with bikers in mind, or at least bigger bikers like myself. The turns are sharp and blind. mega-steep climbs creep up on you in a second. Also, it apparently had flooded about a week ago, so not only were we dealing with the sudden trail spasms, but we also spent a good deal of the morning dodging downed trees, patches of mud, and fish which had washed up onto the path. There really was no room for goofing off or losing focus as we weaved through all those obstacles as well as all the other pedestrians on the trail. But, with all that being said, it really was a great time, because my team is full of crazies. At one point I was in a pace-line about 20 strong, and the air was peppered with songs, chants, and animal noises as we worked our way through that shady obstacle course.
Lunch came up on us earlier than my body expected. I filled up on Triscuit crackers and rolled out in relatively short time because we were hearing rumors about a storm system coming right for us from across the prairie.
The entire nature of the route abruptly changed after lunch, going from hectic suburban park trail to a nasty, dusty, hilly, miserable stretch of gravel. Everyone was hurtin' from the gravel, and it shook all of us up thoroughly, but we had no choice but to carry on for, lo and behold, right over the horizon was the storm that would turn that gravel into an unrideable river of mud.
As for the storm itself, probably one of the most dramatic scenes from my entire life. I understand I'm prone to exaggeration on this blog but, for real, that cloud was the epitome of ominous visuals. It was a deeper, darker gray than the freshly paved road we were riding on, and it cut across the beautiful blue sky, turning what was otherwise a lovely Kansas afternoon into a scene from Revelations. Jen rode with me (which always seems to be the case when the elements rage), and only added to the apocalyptic nature of the scene when she told me that this was exactly out of a dream she had not but 3 or 4 days ago. She said she'd dreamed that we were all fighting through an epic Kansas storm, and that it was the one thing on the trip she was most scared would happen.
I did my best to be reassuring. We did some deep breathing. We sang the Wicked Witch's theme from the Wizard of Oz. But mostly we gazed in silent wonder at the system raging just over our heads. The system had coagulated into one massive, coal-black cloud, which stretched out in all directions like a flood of smoke. In every direction, right along the edge, we could see the clear day, but the distance and light-bending made it look as if in each direction there was a great wall of orange flame. A cold front swept through and we immediately started chattering.The prairie was silent, save for the breeze, which was eerily calm. I've rarely felt so small and vulnerable. It was like in a fairy tale where the hero has to sneak past the sleeping giant to escape to safety.
And of course it would be right when we were working through this system that the team got detoured. A man on a motorcycle, coming from the opposite direction, flagged us down and told us that the bridge ahead was out, so we worked out a detour which would add about 10 miles to our route. As a full team we hammered across the prairie, when the storm seemed to finally make up its mind. Thunder in the distance grew louder and louder. Then there was the drizzle. Then there was the rain. Then there was the heavy rain that wailed on our skin like hail. In 2 minutes we were soaked to the marrow, and the cloud fanned out to engulf the entire skyline, leaving us with no apparent end in sight.
We soldiered on for as long as that remained a good idea, which wasn't terribly long. A lighting strike in a field just over from us led to Jen, Sarah W and I deciding to take shelter on the porch of a prairie house. We knocked on the door and were greeted by two little girls, alone on a summer afternoon, who were all too enthusiastic to get us out of the rain. They brought us towels and RC Colas, and let us play with their adorable puppies, which their dog had given birth to about two months prior.
Puppies make everything better.
Eventually we flagged down Jesse, Kristen, and Derrick, and Derrick kept us laughing with his commentary on the storm and his extrapolations. We played with puppies until the brunt of the storm subsided.
Back on the road, in no more than 5 minutes, we then found ourselves in the middle of the most beautiful prairie summer day imaginable.
I've never been to Kansas before, but *this* was the Kansas I always imagined. The colors were soft and warm. As Sarah said, the sky was so pretty it looked fake. The horizon was speckled with barns and windmills, and the road, flat and wide, stretched out for as far as the eye could see.
This is how we were greeted when we rolled into Lawrence. Satisfied with the day and thoroughly exhausted, I napped a mighty nap.
As far as what's good in Lawrence: lots. After my nap I wandered out with Mark, Caroline and Laura to the bike shop because the day's ride convinced me it would be wise to invest in a good raincoat in case Kansas had any more curveballs to throw at us. The shop we hit up, Cycle Works, wound up being easily the coolest bike shop I've been in. Usually when I'm in a bike shop I just feel overwhelmed and under-qualified. I'm biking across the country, yes, but I'm still very much a cycling noob, and that's hard to hide in an all-cycling environment. But this place didn't have that same intense atmosphere. It was more the kind of shop I'd run: casual but knowledgeable and friendly. The shop itself was a celebration of cycling culture, with all sorts of awesome old bikes and bike art decorating the walls. It was like a museum, and Gary, the kindly old moustachio'd manager, was like the curator. I really appreciated the windchime made from bike frame pieces outside, and the toilet paper roll made from a bike fork in the bathroom. The store had one of the cycles used in the '96 summer olympics hanging from the ceiling. There was also this amazing old bike from the '50s that can only be described, aesthetically, as the Bike of Tomorrow. It was jet black and weird and curvy, like a bike George Jetson would ride.
Gary also showed us a ten-speed he made for a little person who used to work as the janitor at the old location. It really was I think a simultaneous testament to Gary's knowledge and to the friendship he'd made with that man. The bike was a complete custom job, built entirely from scratch from individually ordered parts. The janitor had apparently asked him a long time ago to build him a ten-speed, and, when it was finished, that man would do rides in it from Lawrence to Kansas City and Topeka. Unfortunately, the man eventually was diagnosed with cancer and passed, but he left eh bike with Gary and asked him to save it for another little person some day. It's a story that really just melted my heart. People are awesome.
Now I'm back at the high school gym in which we're staying tonight. It's close to bed and the team is split right down the middle between the group that's trying to get rest for the 100-miler we have tomorrow, and the folks who're too excited to sleep. I want to bring my A-game to tomorrow's ride, so I think I'll join the former, but I'll compromise by eavesdropping a little.
So there's this clown. You know he's a clown only because he has clown makeup and a bowler hat on. Other than that, from the neck down, he's dressed like Carl from "Aqua Teen Hunger Force". For those of you who don't want to run that image search, we're basically talking sweaty, hairy, pot-bellied dude in a wife-beater. And he has clown makeup on.
The scene: Carl the Clown is sitting on a cloud in what I can only assume is Clown Heaven. The clouds are puffy white collections of the faces of other clowns, and two Clown-angels are attaching wings to Carl's back.
Somewhere my Mom is screaming.
I honestly went into Kansas City with pretty low expectations but found myself incredibly surprised. As it turns out KC has a lot of What's Good, and also a healthy amount of Good People. Our two Build Days with KC's Habitat were the team's very favorite Build Days thus far. We drove over after sleeping in 'til 7 and met the staff, then meandered over to the work shop and got to work. We spent those two days constructing walls from scratch, which is some of the most satisfying/team-oriented construction work you can ask for. There's something for everyone: wood-cutting, hammering, measuring, and as a cherry on top people have to cooperate as a giant lift to push the wall up to a standing position.
So the work was in and of itself fun, but so was everything else about those Build Days. We were in a shady workshop, which was truly a blessing considering the heat index in KC jumped to 105 by noon both days. Also, there was delicious barbecue. Also, there was an adorable puppy named Daisy. Daisy's owner was the foreman, a big burly dude with a big burly personality named Jeff. Jeff was huge, bald, bearded, muscled, and his hands and mind were worked raw from decades of construction work. The kind of guy you go fishing with, or to a biker bar. He was eager to meet everyone on the team and got a big kick out of all of us, and we, in turn, got a big kick out of him. With Jeff's excitement and our sheer man-power we accomplished a considerable amount. We threw up all the walls for the first story of a house, with enough time left over for an epic impromptu dance-party in the workshop and time to construct two respectable dog houses for the future resident's pets.
So in summary our building time was a hoot, and, as I wound up saying in a speech to our hosts during a presentation that night, it really reaffirms my commitment to this trip and my general faith in humanity and service.
And KC didn't stop being awesome once we got off site. Emily, always the charmer, made some calls and managed to score the entire team free tickets to a Kansas City Royals baseball game. Now, normally I'm not a huge Royals fanatic, nor a huge follower of baseball, nor, to carry on, a big sports fan, but I am a huge fan of free things, and that night solidified my notions that there is a profound difference between just watching a game on TV and actually attending it.
Our seats were great. We were right behind home plate, and just high enough to be able to see the entire field but not so high up that we couldn't see the ball. Zach, who actually *is* a huge baseball fan, said we were in the ideal spot because that's where all the kids sit, and kids get really into baseball. It was really a perfect baseball experience, and we hit all the stops. Those of age got beers, those not of age got hot dogs. it was a perfect temperature and the sky over the field was a perfect shade of orange as the sunset. I bought a KC Royals hat and I must say I look darn good in it. The air was filled with cheers, the sounds of the game, and that iconic organ. There was a 7th inning stretch featuring a stadium-wide sing-along to "I've Got Friends In Low Places". Zach and I got goofy and came up with some fantastic commentary to yell out to the players. We couldn't stop laughing at the name of one of the Royals, Scott Podsednik, who incidentally hit a homer which led to the Royals actually winning the game. It's been almost three days now and almost every time we see each other we still yell "Podsednik!"
Scott Podsednik. What a hero.
Our second night the team had a Town Hall meeting, which is *supposed* to be when we heir grievances and work out team business, but, in the nature of everything else CUS'10 does, we've turned it into something fun and happy. My new favorite team tradition, second only to the 20 seconds of '80s dancing we do in the mornings, are the Warm Fuzzies we read during Town Hall meetings. We keep a box in the van in which anyone can write a supportive message to anyone else on the team, and all of them are read aloud. There are many snaps, many laughs, many hugs, and many tender moments. I'm such a sucker for it, you don't even know.
I'm also a huge sucker for our KC hosts, who planned to pray for each of us individually today. So sweet.
And we definitely needed it, for today's ride will live in infamy.
I don't think it's possible for a route to turn so many times on its own head as the one from KC to Lawrence did today. The madness started right away when we hopped on to the Indian Creek biking trail. We were all stoked for it, because according to the local yokels it was paved and beautiful. They we right in these regards, but I seriously doubt it was really designed with bikers in mind, or at least bigger bikers like myself. The turns are sharp and blind. mega-steep climbs creep up on you in a second. Also, it apparently had flooded about a week ago, so not only were we dealing with the sudden trail spasms, but we also spent a good deal of the morning dodging downed trees, patches of mud, and fish which had washed up onto the path. There really was no room for goofing off or losing focus as we weaved through all those obstacles as well as all the other pedestrians on the trail. But, with all that being said, it really was a great time, because my team is full of crazies. At one point I was in a pace-line about 20 strong, and the air was peppered with songs, chants, and animal noises as we worked our way through that shady obstacle course.
Lunch came up on us earlier than my body expected. I filled up on Triscuit crackers and rolled out in relatively short time because we were hearing rumors about a storm system coming right for us from across the prairie.
The entire nature of the route abruptly changed after lunch, going from hectic suburban park trail to a nasty, dusty, hilly, miserable stretch of gravel. Everyone was hurtin' from the gravel, and it shook all of us up thoroughly, but we had no choice but to carry on for, lo and behold, right over the horizon was the storm that would turn that gravel into an unrideable river of mud.
As for the storm itself, probably one of the most dramatic scenes from my entire life. I understand I'm prone to exaggeration on this blog but, for real, that cloud was the epitome of ominous visuals. It was a deeper, darker gray than the freshly paved road we were riding on, and it cut across the beautiful blue sky, turning what was otherwise a lovely Kansas afternoon into a scene from Revelations. Jen rode with me (which always seems to be the case when the elements rage), and only added to the apocalyptic nature of the scene when she told me that this was exactly out of a dream she had not but 3 or 4 days ago. She said she'd dreamed that we were all fighting through an epic Kansas storm, and that it was the one thing on the trip she was most scared would happen.
I did my best to be reassuring. We did some deep breathing. We sang the Wicked Witch's theme from the Wizard of Oz. But mostly we gazed in silent wonder at the system raging just over our heads. The system had coagulated into one massive, coal-black cloud, which stretched out in all directions like a flood of smoke. In every direction, right along the edge, we could see the clear day, but the distance and light-bending made it look as if in each direction there was a great wall of orange flame. A cold front swept through and we immediately started chattering.The prairie was silent, save for the breeze, which was eerily calm. I've rarely felt so small and vulnerable. It was like in a fairy tale where the hero has to sneak past the sleeping giant to escape to safety.
And of course it would be right when we were working through this system that the team got detoured. A man on a motorcycle, coming from the opposite direction, flagged us down and told us that the bridge ahead was out, so we worked out a detour which would add about 10 miles to our route. As a full team we hammered across the prairie, when the storm seemed to finally make up its mind. Thunder in the distance grew louder and louder. Then there was the drizzle. Then there was the rain. Then there was the heavy rain that wailed on our skin like hail. In 2 minutes we were soaked to the marrow, and the cloud fanned out to engulf the entire skyline, leaving us with no apparent end in sight.
We soldiered on for as long as that remained a good idea, which wasn't terribly long. A lighting strike in a field just over from us led to Jen, Sarah W and I deciding to take shelter on the porch of a prairie house. We knocked on the door and were greeted by two little girls, alone on a summer afternoon, who were all too enthusiastic to get us out of the rain. They brought us towels and RC Colas, and let us play with their adorable puppies, which their dog had given birth to about two months prior.
Puppies make everything better.
Eventually we flagged down Jesse, Kristen, and Derrick, and Derrick kept us laughing with his commentary on the storm and his extrapolations. We played with puppies until the brunt of the storm subsided.
Back on the road, in no more than 5 minutes, we then found ourselves in the middle of the most beautiful prairie summer day imaginable.
I've never been to Kansas before, but *this* was the Kansas I always imagined. The colors were soft and warm. As Sarah said, the sky was so pretty it looked fake. The horizon was speckled with barns and windmills, and the road, flat and wide, stretched out for as far as the eye could see.
This is how we were greeted when we rolled into Lawrence. Satisfied with the day and thoroughly exhausted, I napped a mighty nap.
As far as what's good in Lawrence: lots. After my nap I wandered out with Mark, Caroline and Laura to the bike shop because the day's ride convinced me it would be wise to invest in a good raincoat in case Kansas had any more curveballs to throw at us. The shop we hit up, Cycle Works, wound up being easily the coolest bike shop I've been in. Usually when I'm in a bike shop I just feel overwhelmed and under-qualified. I'm biking across the country, yes, but I'm still very much a cycling noob, and that's hard to hide in an all-cycling environment. But this place didn't have that same intense atmosphere. It was more the kind of shop I'd run: casual but knowledgeable and friendly. The shop itself was a celebration of cycling culture, with all sorts of awesome old bikes and bike art decorating the walls. It was like a museum, and Gary, the kindly old moustachio'd manager, was like the curator. I really appreciated the windchime made from bike frame pieces outside, and the toilet paper roll made from a bike fork in the bathroom. The store had one of the cycles used in the '96 summer olympics hanging from the ceiling. There was also this amazing old bike from the '50s that can only be described, aesthetically, as the Bike of Tomorrow. It was jet black and weird and curvy, like a bike George Jetson would ride.
Gary also showed us a ten-speed he made for a little person who used to work as the janitor at the old location. It really was I think a simultaneous testament to Gary's knowledge and to the friendship he'd made with that man. The bike was a complete custom job, built entirely from scratch from individually ordered parts. The janitor had apparently asked him a long time ago to build him a ten-speed, and, when it was finished, that man would do rides in it from Lawrence to Kansas City and Topeka. Unfortunately, the man eventually was diagnosed with cancer and passed, but he left eh bike with Gary and asked him to save it for another little person some day. It's a story that really just melted my heart. People are awesome.
Now I'm back at the high school gym in which we're staying tonight. It's close to bed and the team is split right down the middle between the group that's trying to get rest for the 100-miler we have tomorrow, and the folks who're too excited to sleep. I want to bring my A-game to tomorrow's ride, so I think I'll join the former, but I'll compromise by eavesdropping a little.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Day 29: Kansas City, Missouri: "Keep On The Tightrope"
Not to start this entry on a low note but I gotta vent: Missouri, your drivers are rude. You win (or perhaps lose?) at having the meanest drivers of any state I've biked through so far. Seriously, I'm 5 and 0 as far as getting yelled at on the road, and it's not because I'm being a dumb biker. Far from it. I'm hugging the shoulder every day for fear of getting smacked by a truck. Bikers are just not part of the equation for drivers here.
THAT BEING SAID, our hosts have been delightful. I enjoyed sleeping on my couch in Washington and felt quite refreshed and ready that next morning for our ride to Jefferson City, the state capitol. Our route was very similar to the day before. We basically spent the entire day on the Katy Trail.
Overall the team is over the trail, and I can understand the frustration. The gravel's a bit annoying, and if we stopped pedaling mosquitos would swarm on us like in a D-List horror movie. There was actually a moment straight out of a cliche when I was having a great talk with Joe. He catches a flat and I stop with him. 30 seconds later, there's buzzing all around my head, and I'm slapping myself to avoid the legitimate threat of death from blood loss. Joe said "just go on without me!", so like any good horror movie protagonist, I did exactly that. When I saw Joe's back at lunch I felt very guilty, however. His back was like a topographical map of Indonesia.
I had a lot of things on my mind that day and tend to do my best thinking alone in the woods so I made an effort to break away from the group and get some time to myself. I was the first to finish lunch, and hopped back on my bike a good 20 minutes before anyone else, which left me alone to enjoy the tranquility of the trail and to reflect. To quote Kerouac (who's work I've been reading to keep myself in the traveler's mindset), my one and noble function was to move, and I moved. I took the things the were laying heavy on my mind and put all of it into pedaling my bike. I was getting dog tired but didn't want to stop. That day was a day for pushing. I thought of the adventures I was having, about the adventures yet to come, and I thought a lot about all the times I doubted myself, or when other people in my life told me I wasn't capable of something. I wish they could've seen me then. I was gritting my teeth, pedaling like a maniac, making myself fly through the forest.
Then I caught a flat and was forced to mellow out a bit.
By the time I changed out my tube, Will Green and Derrick caught up with me. They're both fast riders, so I settled for the goal of just keeping up with them. We strolled down the rest of the trail and joked, and celebrated when we eventually saw Jefferson City's skyline through the trees. After a brief but hectic hop over the highway we made it to our host. I helped myself to their lovely piano.
Our night in jeff City was relatively mellow. I did enjoy some great pizza, which is something I've sorely missed out on the trail, and a few friends built a fort and snuggled inside.
We all got great sleep and sprung into action the next morning to head out to Sedalia, the home of the Missouri State Fair, which is apparently a very good one. before we left Jeff City, however, we made sure to swing by the state capitol to admire the architecture. Greco-Roman style buildings are so awesome. They get me innappropriately excited about things like democracy and legislation. There was also an impressively tall, though not very flattering, statue of Thomas Jefferson on the steps of the capitol. Being a UVA boy I got to thinking about the amazingly broad impact one man could have on a nation. over 1000 miles away from Virginia, jefferson's legacy is still fully intact. It was one of those moments where I appreciated that despite how huge and diverse this country is we're still the United States for a reason. We have shared heritage, and it's great to celebrate it.
Our time traveling to and living in Sedalia was like a sandwich with really good bread, but on the inside there was gravel. The morning started off smooth and pretty, as I traveled with Jen, Jesse and Heather and Jesse and I swapped hilarious stories.
Then I ran over a staple and caught a flat. I changed the tube.
A quarter mile later my tube popped. I switched out the tube again.
A quarter mile later my tube popped again. Sweeps (Sarah Crawford and Lindsey) caught up with me and helped me make light of the situation.
I changed my tube and tire, but just before I rolled off I noticed that the supposedly new tire had a huge gash in it where the tube was poking out like a scared little turtle.
So we called Sharif and shared life stories a little bit. It was borderline farcial. inside 24 hours I had to change out either my rear tube, tire, or both 5 times. Sarah and Lindsey were great though, and their lives are so interesting. Sarah wants to work non-profits, and Lindsey works publicity for NBC out in LA, so she's met lots of famous people. She told us who was awesome to work with (Tina Fey) and who was crazy (Chevy Chase), and we kicked back and enjoyed some subway while we waited for the van to bring a new tire.
I should stop to mention one other thing: The Subway where the three of us got lunch was (pardon the pun) sandwiched in between two franchises of the exact same gas station. For real. There was a Phillips station, then the Subway, then another Phillips. It was like that bit Lewis Black has in his standup routine about the place in Texas where there are two Starbucks franchises right across the street from eachother. I can't help but ponder the relationship between those Phillips stations. Like, are they bitter rivals, or are they united in the campaign to peddle gas to the people of Missouri? Which has better candy? Which has stickier floors? It boggles the mind.
Once I finally fixed my tire I got to roll over some good ol' fashioned Missouri-style humid-windy-rainy-hills. At this stage, though, when we hit stuff like that, all you can really do is laugh. Whether you're high or low, as Janelle Monae says, you gotta keep on the tightrope. I wound up singing that chorus a lot, in between the moments where the nasty-smelling animal trucks would blaze right past me.
So I made it to Sedalia and then immediately turned around to do laundry, which is part of my chore group duties this week. Lemme tell you, doing laundry for 30 athletes and one Will Paradis is an adventure. A little girl in the laundromat was speechless when she saw the tarps full of sweaty stanky clothes we brought in. We wrangled it all into the machines, and then I sat down to watch some cartoons while Laura and Jesse read.
After laundry we came back to the best spaghetti I've had on the whole trip, which is really saying something when, like, every other host decides to make spaghetti for us. I also had an awesome conversation with a church employee named Tom. I played a little guitar after dinner and we got on teh subject of classic rock, which is a topic I haven't gotten to really explore with anyone for a long time, so I immediatley perked up and got to sharing the passion with him. He lamented about how there aren't any good bands out there these days. Naturally I told him to check out My Morning Jacket and assured him that, while they were certainly modern, they're keeping the faith. He told me he'd look into them and email me with his impression. I'm very excited to hear back. But that was only the start. Are you ready for this?
The church hired out a masseuse and a chiropractor to work adjustments on the whole team. I got my first chiropractic adjustment ever, and it was hilarious and fascinating. I felt like if the Doctor wanted to he could've just as easily permanently disable me. There was one moment where he looked me in the eye, grabbed boths sides of my head and, without warning, twisted my neck and cracked apart years of bad posture. I swear my life flashed before my eyes. And then, to top it all off, when I walked back into the dining room there were fresh, warm brownines and vanilla ice cream in little bowls waiting for all of us.
We all worked to get good sleep for todays ride to KC. At 93 miles, it was our longest yet, but it was also the loveliest piece of Missouri we've gotten to roll through.
I feel like in the last several entries I've brought up how flat the heartland is without really expanding on the idea.I understand that the idea of biking through fields for two weeks sounds boring, but the views really our breathtaking. The sheer magnitude of these wide open spaces quiets the soul and forces a man to listen and think. There were points in todays ride where you could look all around and see so far out on the horizon that the clouds were rising and setting. The colors were also breathtaking: the golden wild grass, the emerald green trees, and a sky of the most perfect shade of blue. The only sounds were that of the crickets, the cows, the birds, my wheels, and my breath, which came in deep and slow to soak in the sights.
The ride basically stayed that beautiful all day. At first lunch we found a shady park to eat in, and at second lunch I napped in the shade of a Masonic hall somwhere in the 'Burbs of Kansas City. I also stopped in a gas station at one point to get candy bars and wound up having a 20 minute conversation with a lovely elderly cashier named Betsy. She totally dug the idea of Bike and Build and told me about how badly she wished she could take an adventure like this one day. I told her the key is to just stop thinking about it and go one day. I really hope she takes that advice to heart. It sounds naive, but it's true. Bike & Build's teaching me that life's too short to be reserved. This might be all we get and you gotta get the most you can out of it.
I really hope she at least goes to Colorado. Her eyes lit up at the very idea. She was a very sweet woman.
And then after a little more biking we got here! I was dreaming of mexican food all day and it seems my wishes did not fall on deaf ears. The church provided a full taco bar and I ate a pretty disgusting amount but GUESS WHAT?! It's cool 'cause I weighed myself in at the Y and, while I don't like being the guy who brings up sich things, I've lost 40 pounds since I started training for this trip.
So go me.
We will be spending the next two days in KC volunteering. I'll be sure to keep you posted!
THAT BEING SAID, our hosts have been delightful. I enjoyed sleeping on my couch in Washington and felt quite refreshed and ready that next morning for our ride to Jefferson City, the state capitol. Our route was very similar to the day before. We basically spent the entire day on the Katy Trail.
Overall the team is over the trail, and I can understand the frustration. The gravel's a bit annoying, and if we stopped pedaling mosquitos would swarm on us like in a D-List horror movie. There was actually a moment straight out of a cliche when I was having a great talk with Joe. He catches a flat and I stop with him. 30 seconds later, there's buzzing all around my head, and I'm slapping myself to avoid the legitimate threat of death from blood loss. Joe said "just go on without me!", so like any good horror movie protagonist, I did exactly that. When I saw Joe's back at lunch I felt very guilty, however. His back was like a topographical map of Indonesia.
I had a lot of things on my mind that day and tend to do my best thinking alone in the woods so I made an effort to break away from the group and get some time to myself. I was the first to finish lunch, and hopped back on my bike a good 20 minutes before anyone else, which left me alone to enjoy the tranquility of the trail and to reflect. To quote Kerouac (who's work I've been reading to keep myself in the traveler's mindset), my one and noble function was to move, and I moved. I took the things the were laying heavy on my mind and put all of it into pedaling my bike. I was getting dog tired but didn't want to stop. That day was a day for pushing. I thought of the adventures I was having, about the adventures yet to come, and I thought a lot about all the times I doubted myself, or when other people in my life told me I wasn't capable of something. I wish they could've seen me then. I was gritting my teeth, pedaling like a maniac, making myself fly through the forest.
Then I caught a flat and was forced to mellow out a bit.
By the time I changed out my tube, Will Green and Derrick caught up with me. They're both fast riders, so I settled for the goal of just keeping up with them. We strolled down the rest of the trail and joked, and celebrated when we eventually saw Jefferson City's skyline through the trees. After a brief but hectic hop over the highway we made it to our host. I helped myself to their lovely piano.
Our night in jeff City was relatively mellow. I did enjoy some great pizza, which is something I've sorely missed out on the trail, and a few friends built a fort and snuggled inside.
We all got great sleep and sprung into action the next morning to head out to Sedalia, the home of the Missouri State Fair, which is apparently a very good one. before we left Jeff City, however, we made sure to swing by the state capitol to admire the architecture. Greco-Roman style buildings are so awesome. They get me innappropriately excited about things like democracy and legislation. There was also an impressively tall, though not very flattering, statue of Thomas Jefferson on the steps of the capitol. Being a UVA boy I got to thinking about the amazingly broad impact one man could have on a nation. over 1000 miles away from Virginia, jefferson's legacy is still fully intact. It was one of those moments where I appreciated that despite how huge and diverse this country is we're still the United States for a reason. We have shared heritage, and it's great to celebrate it.
Our time traveling to and living in Sedalia was like a sandwich with really good bread, but on the inside there was gravel. The morning started off smooth and pretty, as I traveled with Jen, Jesse and Heather and Jesse and I swapped hilarious stories.
Then I ran over a staple and caught a flat. I changed the tube.
A quarter mile later my tube popped. I switched out the tube again.
A quarter mile later my tube popped again. Sweeps (Sarah Crawford and Lindsey) caught up with me and helped me make light of the situation.
I changed my tube and tire, but just before I rolled off I noticed that the supposedly new tire had a huge gash in it where the tube was poking out like a scared little turtle.
So we called Sharif and shared life stories a little bit. It was borderline farcial. inside 24 hours I had to change out either my rear tube, tire, or both 5 times. Sarah and Lindsey were great though, and their lives are so interesting. Sarah wants to work non-profits, and Lindsey works publicity for NBC out in LA, so she's met lots of famous people. She told us who was awesome to work with (Tina Fey) and who was crazy (Chevy Chase), and we kicked back and enjoyed some subway while we waited for the van to bring a new tire.
I should stop to mention one other thing: The Subway where the three of us got lunch was (pardon the pun) sandwiched in between two franchises of the exact same gas station. For real. There was a Phillips station, then the Subway, then another Phillips. It was like that bit Lewis Black has in his standup routine about the place in Texas where there are two Starbucks franchises right across the street from eachother. I can't help but ponder the relationship between those Phillips stations. Like, are they bitter rivals, or are they united in the campaign to peddle gas to the people of Missouri? Which has better candy? Which has stickier floors? It boggles the mind.
Once I finally fixed my tire I got to roll over some good ol' fashioned Missouri-style humid-windy-rainy-hills. At this stage, though, when we hit stuff like that, all you can really do is laugh. Whether you're high or low, as Janelle Monae says, you gotta keep on the tightrope. I wound up singing that chorus a lot, in between the moments where the nasty-smelling animal trucks would blaze right past me.
So I made it to Sedalia and then immediately turned around to do laundry, which is part of my chore group duties this week. Lemme tell you, doing laundry for 30 athletes and one Will Paradis is an adventure. A little girl in the laundromat was speechless when she saw the tarps full of sweaty stanky clothes we brought in. We wrangled it all into the machines, and then I sat down to watch some cartoons while Laura and Jesse read.
After laundry we came back to the best spaghetti I've had on the whole trip, which is really saying something when, like, every other host decides to make spaghetti for us. I also had an awesome conversation with a church employee named Tom. I played a little guitar after dinner and we got on teh subject of classic rock, which is a topic I haven't gotten to really explore with anyone for a long time, so I immediatley perked up and got to sharing the passion with him. He lamented about how there aren't any good bands out there these days. Naturally I told him to check out My Morning Jacket and assured him that, while they were certainly modern, they're keeping the faith. He told me he'd look into them and email me with his impression. I'm very excited to hear back. But that was only the start. Are you ready for this?
The church hired out a masseuse and a chiropractor to work adjustments on the whole team. I got my first chiropractic adjustment ever, and it was hilarious and fascinating. I felt like if the Doctor wanted to he could've just as easily permanently disable me. There was one moment where he looked me in the eye, grabbed boths sides of my head and, without warning, twisted my neck and cracked apart years of bad posture. I swear my life flashed before my eyes. And then, to top it all off, when I walked back into the dining room there were fresh, warm brownines and vanilla ice cream in little bowls waiting for all of us.
We all worked to get good sleep for todays ride to KC. At 93 miles, it was our longest yet, but it was also the loveliest piece of Missouri we've gotten to roll through.
I feel like in the last several entries I've brought up how flat the heartland is without really expanding on the idea.I understand that the idea of biking through fields for two weeks sounds boring, but the views really our breathtaking. The sheer magnitude of these wide open spaces quiets the soul and forces a man to listen and think. There were points in todays ride where you could look all around and see so far out on the horizon that the clouds were rising and setting. The colors were also breathtaking: the golden wild grass, the emerald green trees, and a sky of the most perfect shade of blue. The only sounds were that of the crickets, the cows, the birds, my wheels, and my breath, which came in deep and slow to soak in the sights.
The ride basically stayed that beautiful all day. At first lunch we found a shady park to eat in, and at second lunch I napped in the shade of a Masonic hall somwhere in the 'Burbs of Kansas City. I also stopped in a gas station at one point to get candy bars and wound up having a 20 minute conversation with a lovely elderly cashier named Betsy. She totally dug the idea of Bike and Build and told me about how badly she wished she could take an adventure like this one day. I told her the key is to just stop thinking about it and go one day. I really hope she takes that advice to heart. It sounds naive, but it's true. Bike & Build's teaching me that life's too short to be reserved. This might be all we get and you gotta get the most you can out of it.
I really hope she at least goes to Colorado. Her eyes lit up at the very idea. She was a very sweet woman.
And then after a little more biking we got here! I was dreaming of mexican food all day and it seems my wishes did not fall on deaf ears. The church provided a full taco bar and I ate a pretty disgusting amount but GUESS WHAT?! It's cool 'cause I weighed myself in at the Y and, while I don't like being the guy who brings up sich things, I've lost 40 pounds since I started training for this trip.
So go me.
We will be spending the next two days in KC volunteering. I'll be sure to keep you posted!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Day 26: Washington, Missouri: "Gateway"
The last time I went to St. Louis I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. I'm certain that my parents showed me a great time when we went, but all I remember from that trip is going to a science museum and touching one of those big glass balls that make your hair stick up.
Sarah Graham, one of our proud St. Louis residents, assured us from the start of the trip that there was so much more to the city. There was talk of sight-seeing, bar-hopping, and delicious food, and the morning we woke up in Greenville we all were raring to get there asap.
The start to that morning's ride was lovely. We traveled at a very healthy pace and enjoyed the quiet farmland of Illinois. As I've said many a time, the land out there is flat, which doesn't leave much in the way of exciting details to blog about, but I'm starting to understand the kind of effect it has on the heartland psyche. It makes a man quiet. Reflective. I was left on that morning with a lot of time to process my thoughts, to reflect on why I'd joined this trip, and what I wanted to ultimately get out of it.
When we weren't thinking to ourselves, Sharif, Jen, Heather and I played word games to pass the time, and of course yelled at cows whenever we saw them. Before we knew it we had hammered halfway to lunch, because hey, there's nothing to really do but go fast. We happened upon a really sweet little farmer's market and I excitedly sprung for some cream soda and Georgia peaches. Also, if perhaps only for their novelty, I bought I jar of pickled eggs for lunch, because I figured I was on Bike & Build to expand my horizons. When i ate them about 15 miles later, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by how edible they were. I and a couple other brave souls scrafed some food down and, though a nap was tempting, decided to keep moving to get to St. Louis and its goodness as soon as possible.
Full of pickled eggs and marshmallows, I hopped back on the bike, and the route did an immediate 180. We went from a morning of quiet farms to an afternoon of hectic windy highways and terrifying traffic. Illinois State Highway 3 may be the absolute worst road for biking on the entire route. The only thing it has going for it is that it's overall flat, but it's windier than a hurricane and crowded from side-to-side with drivers who are not accustomed to bikers or sharing the road with them. Trash littered the shoulder so we spent a lot of time dodging debris, pounding headfirst into the wind, and swearing. There was a lot of swearing.
After a good 6 or 7 miles of that ruckus, our morale was drastically low, and the only thing that was keeping us pedaling was the idea that we would soon *bike* across the Mississippi River. Before we headed West to cross the border we stopped in a gas station. It wasn't much, but I managed to talk the manager into donating a huge powerade for each of the folks I was biking with, and that at least helped restore the team's faith in humanity. We drank to the death of Illinois, and then rolled down the road to the Chain of Rocks Bridge.
It's really hard to put into words the immediate transition to a sense of accomplishment and elation when We hopped on the bridge and began rolling over the Mississippi. Creedance Clearwater Revival's "Proud Mary" was the jam we howled as the water roared under us, and the team stopped for many pictures and a much-needed and much deserved break as we saw Illinois behind us and the skyline of St. Louis before us.
The celebration was short-lived, however, as we rolled into the insane traffic of East St. Louis. It was a real test of our road safety skills, awareness, and communication, and we made certain to stick together. Everyone made it safe to UMSL, our host for the night, but we were all certainly frazzled by that time.
The only proper recovery plan was a good shower and a nap. Following that, Sarah Graham's parents came and cooked dinner, and I discovered one of my new favorite foods: pork steak. It's a St. Louis favorite. Imagine, if you will, a rack of perfectly cooked barbecue ribs. How can this be improved, you ask? Take the bones and just replace it with more delicious rib meat. I ate an inappropriate amount, and then the team prepped to head into town.
Christina's dad drove us in a bus to the Arch, which is, in fact, even more impressive than I imagined. It was impossible to get the entire Arch even inside one picture shot, but even if we could, it wouldn't do the architecture justice. The sun made the entire arch glow orange. I picked a spot right in the middle of the arch to sit down, stare up, and, again reflect.
I think the symbol of the Arch as the "Gateway to the West" carries extra weight when you see it on your way from coast to coast. Suddenly, three and a half weeks into this trip, I'm in the heart of this country, and the pace I've been traveling at has allowed me to learn more about the land and people than I think most of us can ever hope to. It's fascinating to see what makes each American citizen and state similar, and to appreciate the subtle differences that make you realize you really are moving. this country, as it turns out, is big, and despite the best efforts of pop culture, we're still very much a patchwork of smaller cultures. St. Louis is certainly a world away from, say, Marlinton, West Virginia, or Virginia Beach, or Nowhere, Illinois. Every day has led to a new adventure on this trip, and seeing the Arch, and passing through it into the West, only gets me more excited for what lies ahead.
The next day in St. Louis was a Build Day. We volunteered with Rebuilding Together and I spent the majority of my morning powerwashing a porch while the resident's grandson, watching from the kitchen window, kept shouting words of enthusiasm and encouragement. "Awesome! What is that thing?!"
That was a great boost of morale, because while the first five or six minutes of powerwashing were filled with excitement and novelty, it started to wear off after I shot my third or fourth yellow jacket out of the air.
That afternoon I helped another team of BNBers lay down a new floor in a house down the block, and during breaks, when we'd wait for another team to cut wood, I huddled around the radio with about 10 other folks and a few of the residents to listen to the World Cup.
I love the idea of the World Cup a lot. Soccer (or football as the rest of the world calls it) really is a universal game. It was awesome to imagine that I was sharing listening in on this much-anticipated game with potentially billions of strangers, including Steve, a dude from the neighborhood, who was quite the character, but a nice guy nonetheless. Steve had a spacey demeanor. He asked us how Africa was doing, and he predicted that America would rush England because our players were healthier. This side sportscasting only enhanced the experience for me.
Once again a thunderstorm cut our work short, but it was perhaps for the best because the humidity was getting to all of us. We went back to UMSL, enjoyed the pool, and then enjoyed a quiet night at the university. I spent some time beginning work on a song for Bike & Build, which I had been commissioned to write by Sarah Crawford. I'm not gonna get ahead of myself, but I am actually very excited about what I have so far, so we'll see where it goes.
Then today's ride. As it turns out, the best way to bike out of St. Louis is along a ten-lane highway. We hugged the shoulder and the traffic definitely woke us up. By the time we reached the fabled Katy Trail, we were all wired and ready to get off the highway and onto a biker trail.
I really recommend riding the Katy Trail if you're ever in the St. Louis area. The Mississippi Delta swamps and hills are lovely, though I also must advise that you don't rest in one place for more than around 30 seconds, lest the mosquitos swarm on you. I rolled with a group that made the humidity and mosquitos more fun to ride through. Even Emily, the team vegan, was smacking mosquitos, saying it was alright because "mosquitos aren't animals. They are from hell."
Along a more secluded portion of the KT we did something secret and awesome. I can't write about it, but if you're curious, ask me about it some time in person.
We got into a great rhythm on the KT and hummed along for a good 20 miles or so before we finally started feeling the heat sink in. Relief was sorely needed, and it was answered by a sno cone stand right along the trail. Out of no where the forest opened up into a quaint little shady farm. A man who looked like a more sun-dried version of Jeff Bridges sold us sno cones at half price and we enjoyed them as we listened to the Peter Frampton drifting through from his radio.
That little sugar rush helped us push about another ten miles when Zach excitedly saw signs for a trail-side beer garden. We all stopped at least for some shade, and weighed our options. Those over age were jonesing for a good beer, and the laughter and sweet music floating from the garden certainly didn't help things, but Bike and Build understandbly frowns upon BUIs. Fortunately, as Caroline put it, those of us who are underage are not plagued with such moral dilemmas.
We all decided to just settle for a picture of us looking sad in front of the sign, and the hammered out the last ten miles to Washington to constructively channel our frustration.
We celebrated finishing up that nasty hot ride with a round of cherry limeades from the local Sonic. After that I napped for 3 and a half hours. I sat down on a couch in the church and suddenly couldn't even find the strength to get back up and shower.
After that glorious nap was dinner. After dinner was a hilarious round of a game Kristen brought called "Curses". The basic idea of the game is people take turns drawing cards which prompt them to do challenges like "Demonstrate how to surgically remove an appendix". After you complete a challenge, you pass on a curse card to someone, which they must carry out for the remainder of the game, for example "talk with your teeth constantly clenched", or "you're not allowed to move your elbows". By the end of the game everyone is cursed and each challenge is like watching some horrible street performance.
And that leads me to right now. I literally have one minute until lights out so I should definitely go, but things, as you can see, have been as great and as eventful as always.
Sarah Graham, one of our proud St. Louis residents, assured us from the start of the trip that there was so much more to the city. There was talk of sight-seeing, bar-hopping, and delicious food, and the morning we woke up in Greenville we all were raring to get there asap.
The start to that morning's ride was lovely. We traveled at a very healthy pace and enjoyed the quiet farmland of Illinois. As I've said many a time, the land out there is flat, which doesn't leave much in the way of exciting details to blog about, but I'm starting to understand the kind of effect it has on the heartland psyche. It makes a man quiet. Reflective. I was left on that morning with a lot of time to process my thoughts, to reflect on why I'd joined this trip, and what I wanted to ultimately get out of it.
When we weren't thinking to ourselves, Sharif, Jen, Heather and I played word games to pass the time, and of course yelled at cows whenever we saw them. Before we knew it we had hammered halfway to lunch, because hey, there's nothing to really do but go fast. We happened upon a really sweet little farmer's market and I excitedly sprung for some cream soda and Georgia peaches. Also, if perhaps only for their novelty, I bought I jar of pickled eggs for lunch, because I figured I was on Bike & Build to expand my horizons. When i ate them about 15 miles later, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by how edible they were. I and a couple other brave souls scrafed some food down and, though a nap was tempting, decided to keep moving to get to St. Louis and its goodness as soon as possible.
Full of pickled eggs and marshmallows, I hopped back on the bike, and the route did an immediate 180. We went from a morning of quiet farms to an afternoon of hectic windy highways and terrifying traffic. Illinois State Highway 3 may be the absolute worst road for biking on the entire route. The only thing it has going for it is that it's overall flat, but it's windier than a hurricane and crowded from side-to-side with drivers who are not accustomed to bikers or sharing the road with them. Trash littered the shoulder so we spent a lot of time dodging debris, pounding headfirst into the wind, and swearing. There was a lot of swearing.
After a good 6 or 7 miles of that ruckus, our morale was drastically low, and the only thing that was keeping us pedaling was the idea that we would soon *bike* across the Mississippi River. Before we headed West to cross the border we stopped in a gas station. It wasn't much, but I managed to talk the manager into donating a huge powerade for each of the folks I was biking with, and that at least helped restore the team's faith in humanity. We drank to the death of Illinois, and then rolled down the road to the Chain of Rocks Bridge.
It's really hard to put into words the immediate transition to a sense of accomplishment and elation when We hopped on the bridge and began rolling over the Mississippi. Creedance Clearwater Revival's "Proud Mary" was the jam we howled as the water roared under us, and the team stopped for many pictures and a much-needed and much deserved break as we saw Illinois behind us and the skyline of St. Louis before us.
The celebration was short-lived, however, as we rolled into the insane traffic of East St. Louis. It was a real test of our road safety skills, awareness, and communication, and we made certain to stick together. Everyone made it safe to UMSL, our host for the night, but we were all certainly frazzled by that time.
The only proper recovery plan was a good shower and a nap. Following that, Sarah Graham's parents came and cooked dinner, and I discovered one of my new favorite foods: pork steak. It's a St. Louis favorite. Imagine, if you will, a rack of perfectly cooked barbecue ribs. How can this be improved, you ask? Take the bones and just replace it with more delicious rib meat. I ate an inappropriate amount, and then the team prepped to head into town.
Christina's dad drove us in a bus to the Arch, which is, in fact, even more impressive than I imagined. It was impossible to get the entire Arch even inside one picture shot, but even if we could, it wouldn't do the architecture justice. The sun made the entire arch glow orange. I picked a spot right in the middle of the arch to sit down, stare up, and, again reflect.
I think the symbol of the Arch as the "Gateway to the West" carries extra weight when you see it on your way from coast to coast. Suddenly, three and a half weeks into this trip, I'm in the heart of this country, and the pace I've been traveling at has allowed me to learn more about the land and people than I think most of us can ever hope to. It's fascinating to see what makes each American citizen and state similar, and to appreciate the subtle differences that make you realize you really are moving. this country, as it turns out, is big, and despite the best efforts of pop culture, we're still very much a patchwork of smaller cultures. St. Louis is certainly a world away from, say, Marlinton, West Virginia, or Virginia Beach, or Nowhere, Illinois. Every day has led to a new adventure on this trip, and seeing the Arch, and passing through it into the West, only gets me more excited for what lies ahead.
The next day in St. Louis was a Build Day. We volunteered with Rebuilding Together and I spent the majority of my morning powerwashing a porch while the resident's grandson, watching from the kitchen window, kept shouting words of enthusiasm and encouragement. "Awesome! What is that thing?!"
That was a great boost of morale, because while the first five or six minutes of powerwashing were filled with excitement and novelty, it started to wear off after I shot my third or fourth yellow jacket out of the air.
That afternoon I helped another team of BNBers lay down a new floor in a house down the block, and during breaks, when we'd wait for another team to cut wood, I huddled around the radio with about 10 other folks and a few of the residents to listen to the World Cup.
I love the idea of the World Cup a lot. Soccer (or football as the rest of the world calls it) really is a universal game. It was awesome to imagine that I was sharing listening in on this much-anticipated game with potentially billions of strangers, including Steve, a dude from the neighborhood, who was quite the character, but a nice guy nonetheless. Steve had a spacey demeanor. He asked us how Africa was doing, and he predicted that America would rush England because our players were healthier. This side sportscasting only enhanced the experience for me.
Once again a thunderstorm cut our work short, but it was perhaps for the best because the humidity was getting to all of us. We went back to UMSL, enjoyed the pool, and then enjoyed a quiet night at the university. I spent some time beginning work on a song for Bike & Build, which I had been commissioned to write by Sarah Crawford. I'm not gonna get ahead of myself, but I am actually very excited about what I have so far, so we'll see where it goes.
Then today's ride. As it turns out, the best way to bike out of St. Louis is along a ten-lane highway. We hugged the shoulder and the traffic definitely woke us up. By the time we reached the fabled Katy Trail, we were all wired and ready to get off the highway and onto a biker trail.
I really recommend riding the Katy Trail if you're ever in the St. Louis area. The Mississippi Delta swamps and hills are lovely, though I also must advise that you don't rest in one place for more than around 30 seconds, lest the mosquitos swarm on you. I rolled with a group that made the humidity and mosquitos more fun to ride through. Even Emily, the team vegan, was smacking mosquitos, saying it was alright because "mosquitos aren't animals. They are from hell."
Along a more secluded portion of the KT we did something secret and awesome. I can't write about it, but if you're curious, ask me about it some time in person.
We got into a great rhythm on the KT and hummed along for a good 20 miles or so before we finally started feeling the heat sink in. Relief was sorely needed, and it was answered by a sno cone stand right along the trail. Out of no where the forest opened up into a quaint little shady farm. A man who looked like a more sun-dried version of Jeff Bridges sold us sno cones at half price and we enjoyed them as we listened to the Peter Frampton drifting through from his radio.
That little sugar rush helped us push about another ten miles when Zach excitedly saw signs for a trail-side beer garden. We all stopped at least for some shade, and weighed our options. Those over age were jonesing for a good beer, and the laughter and sweet music floating from the garden certainly didn't help things, but Bike and Build understandbly frowns upon BUIs. Fortunately, as Caroline put it, those of us who are underage are not plagued with such moral dilemmas.
We all decided to just settle for a picture of us looking sad in front of the sign, and the hammered out the last ten miles to Washington to constructively channel our frustration.
We celebrated finishing up that nasty hot ride with a round of cherry limeades from the local Sonic. After that I napped for 3 and a half hours. I sat down on a couch in the church and suddenly couldn't even find the strength to get back up and shower.
After that glorious nap was dinner. After dinner was a hilarious round of a game Kristen brought called "Curses". The basic idea of the game is people take turns drawing cards which prompt them to do challenges like "Demonstrate how to surgically remove an appendix". After you complete a challenge, you pass on a curse card to someone, which they must carry out for the remainder of the game, for example "talk with your teeth constantly clenched", or "you're not allowed to move your elbows". By the end of the game everyone is cursed and each challenge is like watching some horrible street performance.
And that leads me to right now. I literally have one minute until lights out so I should definitely go, but things, as you can see, have been as great and as eventful as always.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Day 23: Greenville, Illinois: "All Things Go"
Apologies for making you guys wait a few days for a new entry but 1) internet has been extremely scarce for the last few days and 2) interesting things have been even more scarce.
We reluctantly left Bloomington and rolled into Terre Haute, home of no less than 4 colleges, so there were a few things to do, but the team pretty much only had the energy to surf the internet at a coffee shop down the block. We patronized them thrice inside of 18 hours.
I will say our shower situation there was hilarious. Showers weren't on site, which usually means we ridein the van to wherever we need to bathe, or we walk if it's close. We decided to walk to our showers, but, as it turns out, the distance was horrendously undercalculated. Without really even trying, I practically streaked Indiana State University's campus with Joe and Mark. Imagine, if you will, three grown men in nothing but spandex bike shorts meandering around a college campus asking where the showers were. At one point we got so lost we legitimately considered bathing in the fountain, but, after weighing the legal consequences, decided to soldier on. 20 minutes later we found the rec center and enjoyed a BNBer's dream shower: one with sufficient heat, pressure, and privacy. Such a shower is rare on the road.
After bathing and eating dinner, the team screened "Stepbrothers" and, as much as that movie cracks me up, I decided to duck out with a few folks to enjoy some wifi and tea. At the shop Jen showed me a program that actually might surpass Bike & Build in its insanity: BOSS, the Boulder Outdoor Survival School.
The idea of BOSS is pretty simple. You go out into the American outback of Utah for 28 days with nothing but a knife, a poncho, and the clothes on your back and, as you travel with a small group, you learn how to survive in the most extreme of conditions, with little food, water, or shelter. Jen said she could see me doing it, which is flattering, buuuuuuuuuuut I'm gonna just focus on finishing up *this* life-changing adventure first.
From Terre Haute we crossed the state line into Illinois, and celebrated our first ride into a new time zone. The group I biked with was great, and we stopped for many pictures, and adorned ourselves with flowers in our helmets for celebration.
Once we hit Illinois it was obvious that we were in the Heartland. The route was flat, fieldy, windy, and pretty bare save for corn and tractors. We cranked out the first half because really there was nothing better to do, and then after lunch basically the two big highlights were me saving a turtle that was trying to cross the highway, and the group playing travel games, including "Would You Rather". My personal favorite: would you rather your arms be an extra pair of legs, or your legs be an extra pair of arms.
We rolled into Effingham, Illinois last night, which, according to Bike & Build's page on the CUS route, is "effing awesome". It's home to a giant metal cross, and thaaaaaat's basically it. The team was really beginning to miss Indiana. We went from the coolest state we've rolled through to basically one giant farm. It was frustrating.
As such, we started on a fantastic idea.
Inspired by Jesse Young's pair of wings, which he fashioned from his jacket and a stick to serve as a wind-breaker for the girls riding behind him, we decided we would all dress up and adorn ourselves with ridiculous accessories, to become the most interesting thing in a 250 mile radius.
Thus "El Dia de los Locos" was established, and today's ride featured the team blazing across the Heartland in some seriously fierce costumes. A few folks wore all their gear backwards. Joe and Will Green dressed up like Turkish horsemen. Many of the girls wore their hair through their helmets. Kristen Dyke had a huge biker mustache, which is hilarious considering she's the tiniest, sweetest girl on the trip. And as for myself? I left my undershirt in my duffel, left my jersey zipped open to expose my manly physique, rolled up the sleeves of my bike-shorts to speedo-level height, and covered my body in sharpie tattoos and glitter glue. The best was when we stopped for lunch. I was bent over my bike, adjusting my water bottle cage and singing "come on feel the Illinoise" while a trucker, driving by, stared at me with mouth agape as he rolled past at about 5 miles an hour.
And now we're here in Greenville! It's pretty much a carbon copy of Effingham, so I'm not anticipating a lot of craziness. Tomorrow, however, we're rolling into St. Louis!
And this is where the fact that I'm on Bike & Build is really starting to sink in. I'm now legitimately out West past my home. Beyond that, I biked here, and I have what's apparently an exceptionally awesome team t enjoy this adventure with, as evidenced today.
Even when the scenery doesn't step up its game, every day is a great day with Bike & Build and these locos.
We reluctantly left Bloomington and rolled into Terre Haute, home of no less than 4 colleges, so there were a few things to do, but the team pretty much only had the energy to surf the internet at a coffee shop down the block. We patronized them thrice inside of 18 hours.
I will say our shower situation there was hilarious. Showers weren't on site, which usually means we ridein the van to wherever we need to bathe, or we walk if it's close. We decided to walk to our showers, but, as it turns out, the distance was horrendously undercalculated. Without really even trying, I practically streaked Indiana State University's campus with Joe and Mark. Imagine, if you will, three grown men in nothing but spandex bike shorts meandering around a college campus asking where the showers were. At one point we got so lost we legitimately considered bathing in the fountain, but, after weighing the legal consequences, decided to soldier on. 20 minutes later we found the rec center and enjoyed a BNBer's dream shower: one with sufficient heat, pressure, and privacy. Such a shower is rare on the road.
After bathing and eating dinner, the team screened "Stepbrothers" and, as much as that movie cracks me up, I decided to duck out with a few folks to enjoy some wifi and tea. At the shop Jen showed me a program that actually might surpass Bike & Build in its insanity: BOSS, the Boulder Outdoor Survival School.
The idea of BOSS is pretty simple. You go out into the American outback of Utah for 28 days with nothing but a knife, a poncho, and the clothes on your back and, as you travel with a small group, you learn how to survive in the most extreme of conditions, with little food, water, or shelter. Jen said she could see me doing it, which is flattering, buuuuuuuuuuut I'm gonna just focus on finishing up *this* life-changing adventure first.
From Terre Haute we crossed the state line into Illinois, and celebrated our first ride into a new time zone. The group I biked with was great, and we stopped for many pictures, and adorned ourselves with flowers in our helmets for celebration.
Once we hit Illinois it was obvious that we were in the Heartland. The route was flat, fieldy, windy, and pretty bare save for corn and tractors. We cranked out the first half because really there was nothing better to do, and then after lunch basically the two big highlights were me saving a turtle that was trying to cross the highway, and the group playing travel games, including "Would You Rather". My personal favorite: would you rather your arms be an extra pair of legs, or your legs be an extra pair of arms.
We rolled into Effingham, Illinois last night, which, according to Bike & Build's page on the CUS route, is "effing awesome". It's home to a giant metal cross, and thaaaaaat's basically it. The team was really beginning to miss Indiana. We went from the coolest state we've rolled through to basically one giant farm. It was frustrating.
As such, we started on a fantastic idea.
Inspired by Jesse Young's pair of wings, which he fashioned from his jacket and a stick to serve as a wind-breaker for the girls riding behind him, we decided we would all dress up and adorn ourselves with ridiculous accessories, to become the most interesting thing in a 250 mile radius.
Thus "El Dia de los Locos" was established, and today's ride featured the team blazing across the Heartland in some seriously fierce costumes. A few folks wore all their gear backwards. Joe and Will Green dressed up like Turkish horsemen. Many of the girls wore their hair through their helmets. Kristen Dyke had a huge biker mustache, which is hilarious considering she's the tiniest, sweetest girl on the trip. And as for myself? I left my undershirt in my duffel, left my jersey zipped open to expose my manly physique, rolled up the sleeves of my bike-shorts to speedo-level height, and covered my body in sharpie tattoos and glitter glue. The best was when we stopped for lunch. I was bent over my bike, adjusting my water bottle cage and singing "come on feel the Illinoise" while a trucker, driving by, stared at me with mouth agape as he rolled past at about 5 miles an hour.
And now we're here in Greenville! It's pretty much a carbon copy of Effingham, so I'm not anticipating a lot of craziness. Tomorrow, however, we're rolling into St. Louis!
And this is where the fact that I'm on Bike & Build is really starting to sink in. I'm now legitimately out West past my home. Beyond that, I biked here, and I have what's apparently an exceptionally awesome team t enjoy this adventure with, as evidenced today.
Even when the scenery doesn't step up its game, every day is a great day with Bike & Build and these locos.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Day 20: Bloomington, Indiana: "A Tale of Redemption Involving Swords, Beasts, Winds, and Hoosiers"
Yesterday morning we woke up to Radiohead's "Kid A" and for unexplainable reasons I was bursting with energy. I sprang up out of the crib I'd made from two pews, and immediately exclaimed "let's go to Indiana!" as people were rubbing sleep from their eyes.
We packed like fiends and hit the road around 6 after one final delicious meal from Chef Mark. Today was going to be our longest ride yet at 86 miles, so I stuck with a group that was planning to go at a slow pace. We rolled out of the church and across the 'burbs of Cinci and, of course, 5 miles later found ourselves caught in a thunderstorm. We found shelter and waited it out. Well, we found shelter, but I spent a lot of that time out in the rain being one with nature and letting the drops fall on me. I was convinced today was going to be a great day. With so many miles to cover it was bound to be.
After the storm calmed down we worked our way to the Indiana state border, and admired the many bordertown shops that lined the roads. Personal highlight: The Workin' Man's Fireworks Store, because of course the standard fireworks store doesn't understand how to cater to the tastes of the average American working man.
We crossed a bridge to take us into Indiana when I did something really stupid. Yep. Really stupid in hindsight. See, there was this little toy foam sword on the side of the road, and, me being a giant child, I excitedly turned around to try to get the the sword. This resulted in Jen, who was riding behind me, saying "AGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" and me, after thinking quickly, deciding to continue to slow down and start swearing. The result: a minor collision in which no *people* were hurt, but Jen's wheel rammed a good number of the spokes of my back wheel, leaving the wheel totally unridable.
So I sat right on the bridge on the border between Indy and Ohio questioning whether this toy sword was *really* worth the risk. Probably not at all, but it is an awesome sword. Aileen drove by and provided me with a spare wheel, and I rolled into lunch presenting said sword to Jen for putting up with my spontaneous nature.
After lunch we still had about 50 miles to cover, so the group I was traveling with proceeded to hammer vigorously. Fate decided to sidetrack us, however. Jesse saw a sign that just said "Bears in three miles". Eager to get out off of the windy prairie road for a bit, we decided to investigate this place, and happened upon the coolest ranch ever. Circle S Ranch. Somewhere in southern Indiana.
One of the volunteers, Scott, was awesome enough to offer us a free tour after hearing about Bike & Build's story. It. Was. Awesome. We got to pet camels, and feed water buffalo raw corn. We fed a baby bison milk, and held a baby deer that was three days old. We took a pic-a-nic basket to the pair of black bears and got to feed them, and the definite highlight, I think for everyone, was the baby tigers.
Our timing was impeccable. If we'd been there a week earlier, we couldn't have fed them. If we were a week later, we legally could not come within a certain distance of them. But it was perfect. One of the owners was keeping a pair of baby tigers in a baby pen in the living room of their apartment. So there we were, in middle-of-nowhere Indiana, rolling on the floor of some person's apartment (with the Christmas tree still up, might I add), playing with tiger cubs.
No big deal.
We spent an inappropriately long time at Circle S, and wound up having to positively hammer the last 30 miles to make it in time for showers. Jesse and I tag-teamed leading the lines to block the women-folk from the harch prairie winds. We're such men like that. We also started freestyling a power love-ballad about Indiana, which was really, really funny.
Sadly we didn't make it in time for showers and had to resort to a hose shower in the church parking lot in front of a pack of bewildered Hoosiers. I hopped into my PJs, and the day ended with a team-screening of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure on the church TV (again, major props to Mom).
Anyways today was the ride into beautiful Bloomington, the home of Indiana University and, subsequently, the coolest town in all of Indy. Today’s ride, especially in relation to yesterday’s, was incredibly easy, at a mere 40 miles. We woke up at around 7, got on the road around 8, and, since all of us were eager to just get to a Cool College Town, we wound up cranking out the first 20 miles without pause.
We managed to reach Nashville, Indiana in time for Second Breakfast. For those who haven’t been to Nashville, it’s certainly worth an afternoon’s rambling. I’ve actually been there once before, with my family, for Christmas. It’s basically a very small artist’s colony sprinkled with the occasional coffee shop and bed-n-breakfast.
Our team invaded one of the coffeehouses, the daily grind, and raised a ruckus in that modest establishment. The owner, Hal, was a big jolly hoot in a Green Bay Packer’s hat and he was endlessly fascinated with what we were doing, and of course grateful for our business. I enjoyed a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and delicious Kilimanjaro coffee, and then we all stepped outside for a great picture with Hal for the local paper, who caught wind of the horde invading Nashville.
We made a stop for some fudge, and then proceeded to Bloomington after we had sufficiently dug Nashville’s quaintness.
We rolled through some lovely hills and forest, which was a delightful change from yesterday’s stupid hot windy fields. Over-caffeinated and overwhelmed with the natural splendor of Brown County, Indiana, I found myself bursting into a constant stream of song. All of us belted out Beatles songs as we did climbs, and when I started drifting ahead of my pack I busted out a few My Morning Jacket tunes to myself.
The stream of song carried on for a good half hour until I saw yet another unleashed dog making a b-line for the team. My experience with dogs over the last week has hardened me in a big way, but this one was an especially close call. He was a scrappy boxer with a sizable jaw, and it took the very best of my barking to get him to back off of me, but of course as soon as I shook him off he made a line-drive to Jen and was, without exaggeration, probably a foot away from her heels.
That’s when the hero instincts kicked in. Somewhere in the back of my head the Popeye themesong started playing. I swerved to the side, hit my breaks, told Jen to book it (though she probably didn’t need that advice), and then immediately cut 90 degrees at ramming speed towards the beast. The translation of my barking is undoubtedly not suitable for some members of my audience, but I can assure you it was earth-shattering.
So Rover, in a split-second, went from chasing a girl’s heels to doubling over himself into a patch of gravel and high-tailing it for the forest. As we rolled up the hill I stared him down and just said “DON’T. YOU. DARE.”
So that was how I redeemed myself for yesterday’s idiocy. Jen agrees I’m at a net positive, and we told the story to the rest of the team when we rolled into lunch.
I’M SUCH A MAN RIGHT NOW. That dash of testosterone is probably going to translate into a serious performance boost for the beard-off.
After lunch was an incredibly pleasant ride through the rest of Brown County, with more singing and much admiration of the countryside. Ten miles later, we were rolling through the heart of Bloomington, screaming like the excitable children we are.
We stopped at a really sweet fountain at IU, and, in a burst of primal excitement, stripped down to our shorts and undershirts and frolicked through the water for a good 20 minutes.
Following the fountain extravaganza we hit the town. I stopped at a bike shop to pick up a few energy bars and a new reflector, and then we went to an awesome restaurant about a block away from the church. It’s called Little Tibet, and, as one can guess, they do great Tibetan food. It’s also owned by the Dalai Lama’s brother, so that’s really boss. To add to my manly agenda I had a hearty meal of The Spiciest Thing They Could Make and some Tibetan style butter-based tea. It was divine.
The mother of a Bike and Build alum provided a barbeque dinner for us at a lovely town park, and then I rolled back into town in the hopes of actually finishing this entry. So here I am! Here’s this entry! Don’t tell Kentucky but Indiana has been… surprisingly awesome.
We packed like fiends and hit the road around 6 after one final delicious meal from Chef Mark. Today was going to be our longest ride yet at 86 miles, so I stuck with a group that was planning to go at a slow pace. We rolled out of the church and across the 'burbs of Cinci and, of course, 5 miles later found ourselves caught in a thunderstorm. We found shelter and waited it out. Well, we found shelter, but I spent a lot of that time out in the rain being one with nature and letting the drops fall on me. I was convinced today was going to be a great day. With so many miles to cover it was bound to be.
After the storm calmed down we worked our way to the Indiana state border, and admired the many bordertown shops that lined the roads. Personal highlight: The Workin' Man's Fireworks Store, because of course the standard fireworks store doesn't understand how to cater to the tastes of the average American working man.
We crossed a bridge to take us into Indiana when I did something really stupid. Yep. Really stupid in hindsight. See, there was this little toy foam sword on the side of the road, and, me being a giant child, I excitedly turned around to try to get the the sword. This resulted in Jen, who was riding behind me, saying "AGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" and me, after thinking quickly, deciding to continue to slow down and start swearing. The result: a minor collision in which no *people* were hurt, but Jen's wheel rammed a good number of the spokes of my back wheel, leaving the wheel totally unridable.
So I sat right on the bridge on the border between Indy and Ohio questioning whether this toy sword was *really* worth the risk. Probably not at all, but it is an awesome sword. Aileen drove by and provided me with a spare wheel, and I rolled into lunch presenting said sword to Jen for putting up with my spontaneous nature.
After lunch we still had about 50 miles to cover, so the group I was traveling with proceeded to hammer vigorously. Fate decided to sidetrack us, however. Jesse saw a sign that just said "Bears in three miles". Eager to get out off of the windy prairie road for a bit, we decided to investigate this place, and happened upon the coolest ranch ever. Circle S Ranch. Somewhere in southern Indiana.
One of the volunteers, Scott, was awesome enough to offer us a free tour after hearing about Bike & Build's story. It. Was. Awesome. We got to pet camels, and feed water buffalo raw corn. We fed a baby bison milk, and held a baby deer that was three days old. We took a pic-a-nic basket to the pair of black bears and got to feed them, and the definite highlight, I think for everyone, was the baby tigers.
Our timing was impeccable. If we'd been there a week earlier, we couldn't have fed them. If we were a week later, we legally could not come within a certain distance of them. But it was perfect. One of the owners was keeping a pair of baby tigers in a baby pen in the living room of their apartment. So there we were, in middle-of-nowhere Indiana, rolling on the floor of some person's apartment (with the Christmas tree still up, might I add), playing with tiger cubs.
No big deal.
We spent an inappropriately long time at Circle S, and wound up having to positively hammer the last 30 miles to make it in time for showers. Jesse and I tag-teamed leading the lines to block the women-folk from the harch prairie winds. We're such men like that. We also started freestyling a power love-ballad about Indiana, which was really, really funny.
Sadly we didn't make it in time for showers and had to resort to a hose shower in the church parking lot in front of a pack of bewildered Hoosiers. I hopped into my PJs, and the day ended with a team-screening of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure on the church TV (again, major props to Mom).
Anyways today was the ride into beautiful Bloomington, the home of Indiana University and, subsequently, the coolest town in all of Indy. Today’s ride, especially in relation to yesterday’s, was incredibly easy, at a mere 40 miles. We woke up at around 7, got on the road around 8, and, since all of us were eager to just get to a Cool College Town, we wound up cranking out the first 20 miles without pause.
We managed to reach Nashville, Indiana in time for Second Breakfast. For those who haven’t been to Nashville, it’s certainly worth an afternoon’s rambling. I’ve actually been there once before, with my family, for Christmas. It’s basically a very small artist’s colony sprinkled with the occasional coffee shop and bed-n-breakfast.
Our team invaded one of the coffeehouses, the daily grind, and raised a ruckus in that modest establishment. The owner, Hal, was a big jolly hoot in a Green Bay Packer’s hat and he was endlessly fascinated with what we were doing, and of course grateful for our business. I enjoyed a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and delicious Kilimanjaro coffee, and then we all stepped outside for a great picture with Hal for the local paper, who caught wind of the horde invading Nashville.
We made a stop for some fudge, and then proceeded to Bloomington after we had sufficiently dug Nashville’s quaintness.
We rolled through some lovely hills and forest, which was a delightful change from yesterday’s stupid hot windy fields. Over-caffeinated and overwhelmed with the natural splendor of Brown County, Indiana, I found myself bursting into a constant stream of song. All of us belted out Beatles songs as we did climbs, and when I started drifting ahead of my pack I busted out a few My Morning Jacket tunes to myself.
The stream of song carried on for a good half hour until I saw yet another unleashed dog making a b-line for the team. My experience with dogs over the last week has hardened me in a big way, but this one was an especially close call. He was a scrappy boxer with a sizable jaw, and it took the very best of my barking to get him to back off of me, but of course as soon as I shook him off he made a line-drive to Jen and was, without exaggeration, probably a foot away from her heels.
That’s when the hero instincts kicked in. Somewhere in the back of my head the Popeye themesong started playing. I swerved to the side, hit my breaks, told Jen to book it (though she probably didn’t need that advice), and then immediately cut 90 degrees at ramming speed towards the beast. The translation of my barking is undoubtedly not suitable for some members of my audience, but I can assure you it was earth-shattering.
So Rover, in a split-second, went from chasing a girl’s heels to doubling over himself into a patch of gravel and high-tailing it for the forest. As we rolled up the hill I stared him down and just said “DON’T. YOU. DARE.”
So that was how I redeemed myself for yesterday’s idiocy. Jen agrees I’m at a net positive, and we told the story to the rest of the team when we rolled into lunch.
I’M SUCH A MAN RIGHT NOW. That dash of testosterone is probably going to translate into a serious performance boost for the beard-off.
After lunch was an incredibly pleasant ride through the rest of Brown County, with more singing and much admiration of the countryside. Ten miles later, we were rolling through the heart of Bloomington, screaming like the excitable children we are.
We stopped at a really sweet fountain at IU, and, in a burst of primal excitement, stripped down to our shorts and undershirts and frolicked through the water for a good 20 minutes.
Following the fountain extravaganza we hit the town. I stopped at a bike shop to pick up a few energy bars and a new reflector, and then we went to an awesome restaurant about a block away from the church. It’s called Little Tibet, and, as one can guess, they do great Tibetan food. It’s also owned by the Dalai Lama’s brother, so that’s really boss. To add to my manly agenda I had a hearty meal of The Spiciest Thing They Could Make and some Tibetan style butter-based tea. It was divine.
The mother of a Bike and Build alum provided a barbeque dinner for us at a lovely town park, and then I rolled back into town in the hopes of actually finishing this entry. So here I am! Here’s this entry! Don’t tell Kentucky but Indiana has been… surprisingly awesome.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Day 18: Cincinnati, Ohio: "Mama! Ooooooo!"
I honestly expected my first night in Cincinnati to be a let down. We weren't staying in Cincinnati proper. We were deep in the suburbs. This meant the only interesting thing to do would be to walk to a bar, and, being under 21, this meant I'd probably just spend a lot of my night sipping water.
Oh. Oh how wrong I was.
For one thing our host here is a trained chef, so the food was absurd. For example, for breakfast this morning there was an omelet bar. Eggs? Veggies? ACTUAL CHOICE?! I could hardly handle it.
After last night's equally awesome meal I decided it was better to sip water in a bar with friends than mope in the church so I meandered over to Sydni's Saloon with the rest of the gang. The look on the bouncer's face was one of terror and amazement. Out of no where 30 hip, young college aged kids were invading this small time bar. We all got what we needed and, to our tremendous excitement, found that the bar had an exquisite karaoke machine with a very enthusiastic DJ.
Jesse kicked it off with Bruce Springsteen's "Thunder Road". I soon followed, upon insistence from the team, to sing "Man Of Constant Sorrow" because there's a line about being from Kentucky. This was my first ever karaoke performance and, I have to say, I rocked the house, but really out did myself when I belted out "Statesboro Blues" about 10 songs later. Seeing the other Jesse do Devo's "Whip It" was a hilarious highlight, as well as Dave doing "Big Papa" and Sharif doing "Short Skirt, Long Jacket". The very best, though, was a tie between the team doing "God Bless the USA" (screaming "from sea to shining sea"), or about 6 of us practically chewing on the mic while we sang Guns 'n' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine".
After much ruckus was raised in the quiet outskirts of Cinci the team mosey'd back home and enjoyed a sleep-in 'til 6:45. Today was our Build Day, and it was super fun. We worked on three houses in one of the oldest neighborhoods in town, and this time the team was all at one site. I spent the majority of the day monkeying up and down a bunch of scaffolding, constructing a 30+ foot tower and muscling huge pieces of metal up with rope as I balanced over wooden floorboards about a foot wide.
I'm such a man.
And after building was one of the biggest highlights of the trip. My sweet, wonderful mother came to visit, and brought a batch of her Kitchen Sink Cookies, 2% milk, and general motherly love for the entire team. We had a wonderful visit and I got to show off all my wonderful new friends to her. They, in turn, were so overwhelemed with her awesomeness that they gave her an enormous group hug before she left.
I really have an amazing Mom. And Dad. And Little Bro.
5am wake-up tomorrow. Off to Indiana. New day, new state, new adventures on the horizon once again.
Oh. Oh how wrong I was.
For one thing our host here is a trained chef, so the food was absurd. For example, for breakfast this morning there was an omelet bar. Eggs? Veggies? ACTUAL CHOICE?! I could hardly handle it.
After last night's equally awesome meal I decided it was better to sip water in a bar with friends than mope in the church so I meandered over to Sydni's Saloon with the rest of the gang. The look on the bouncer's face was one of terror and amazement. Out of no where 30 hip, young college aged kids were invading this small time bar. We all got what we needed and, to our tremendous excitement, found that the bar had an exquisite karaoke machine with a very enthusiastic DJ.
Jesse kicked it off with Bruce Springsteen's "Thunder Road". I soon followed, upon insistence from the team, to sing "Man Of Constant Sorrow" because there's a line about being from Kentucky. This was my first ever karaoke performance and, I have to say, I rocked the house, but really out did myself when I belted out "Statesboro Blues" about 10 songs later. Seeing the other Jesse do Devo's "Whip It" was a hilarious highlight, as well as Dave doing "Big Papa" and Sharif doing "Short Skirt, Long Jacket". The very best, though, was a tie between the team doing "God Bless the USA" (screaming "from sea to shining sea"), or about 6 of us practically chewing on the mic while we sang Guns 'n' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine".
After much ruckus was raised in the quiet outskirts of Cinci the team mosey'd back home and enjoyed a sleep-in 'til 6:45. Today was our Build Day, and it was super fun. We worked on three houses in one of the oldest neighborhoods in town, and this time the team was all at one site. I spent the majority of the day monkeying up and down a bunch of scaffolding, constructing a 30+ foot tower and muscling huge pieces of metal up with rope as I balanced over wooden floorboards about a foot wide.
I'm such a man.
And after building was one of the biggest highlights of the trip. My sweet, wonderful mother came to visit, and brought a batch of her Kitchen Sink Cookies, 2% milk, and general motherly love for the entire team. We had a wonderful visit and I got to show off all my wonderful new friends to her. They, in turn, were so overwhelemed with her awesomeness that they gave her an enormous group hug before she left.
I really have an amazing Mom. And Dad. And Little Bro.
5am wake-up tomorrow. Off to Indiana. New day, new state, new adventures on the horizon once again.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Day 17: Cincinnati, Ohio: "Free Puppies, Power Metal, and A Yard Sale"
Since Charleston was shut down for Memorial Day, Huntington, West Virginia wound up being the jumpinest place we'd stayed in for at least a week. We all were eager to get out and explore the city, what little of it there was, and while it wasn't a terribly exciting night it was a welcome change of pace from the small town scene.
We went to Huntington's Kitchen, an institution started by Jamie Oliver, made famous by "Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution", in which Jamie, a big time English chef and health-food advocate, worked to transform the eating culture of Huntington, America's most obese city. So that was neat to see. We had coffee and hamburgers, and I walked to the other side of town with Kristen, Andy, Brit and Emma to see the city rose garden, which was lovely. The night ended back at the church with Jesse and I watching Animal Planet and placing bets on the elephant seals duking it out while David Attenborough narrated. Sidenote: elephant seals are maybe the goofiest looking animals ever, especially when they fight.
After Huntington it was time to say goodbye to West Virginia and move on to Ohio, our third state, and a new adventure.
Here's my overall take on Eastern Ohio. It has a few things in terrific abundance:
1) American flags. When you are in Ohio there is absolutely no way to get confused about what country you are in. It easily has the highest concentration of American flags I've seen so far. Their own flag is just a knock-off of the country's. Even their license plates are red, white, and blue.
2) Unleashed dogs. The hills constantly echo with barking as you roll through the foothills. Sometimes you get chased by them. I got really good at scaring them off for the most part. I took Zach's advice: act like the biggest, meanest dog you can. For the most part this strategy worked pretty well, as I'd bark and growl while I was riding by. Sometimes, however, those packs got a little too out of hand, and I knew the better option was to just book it.
3) Sneaky uphills. Dear Appalachia, we're breaking up. I'm sorry if that's hard for you to grasp, but following us into Ohio is just uncalled for. You gotta watch for these hills. You may spend a whole morning, like us, cruising over the flat farmland only to have the steepest hill of the entire trip sneak up on you.
4) Subsequently, terrifying downhills. Four of us, myself included, all ate it on this one insanely sharp, wet hairpin. One girl got a concussion. She's fine now, but it'll be a few days before her face stops swelling. As for me, I was very lucky. Just some scrapes on my knee, elbow, and bottom. I knew this was gonna be part of the territory, so I'm not making a big fuss. Although, I never quite realized how much I used my elbow until I can't use it at all.
We spent our first night in Ohio in a very sleepy town called Portsmouth. Working off the timeless phrase "when in Rome", I napped for 3 hours, had dinner, and then right back to sleep.
The ride from Portsmouth to our next town, Georgetown, was a day of highs and lows. On the standpoint fo lows, this was the day where we all ate it. However, on the high side, I crossed the Ohio to tag Kentucky, and had a wonderful moment hugging the state sign, and then singing "My Old Kentucky Home" as I crossed back over the river. The farmland out here was also beautiful. The fields looked like something from a Van Gogh painting, while the people were more like the characters from the Andy Griffith Show.
Our hosts in Georgetown were lovely, and I spent the afternoon playing poker with Jesse, Joe, Zach and Will Green, using skittles instead of chips.
Then today was the ride into Cincinnati. The suburban sprawl didn't make for much in the way of an exciting ride, so Jesse and I spent the morning making up 80's powermetal songs. Our mega-hit was a 9-minute anthem called "Cincinnati" which sounded like it belonged in Top Gun. It was a blast cranking through the outskirts of Cincinnati, screaming these lyrics, and it was especially great when Jesse, Laura and I all started to take a lead guitar solo at the same time. It was like "Free Bird", only better, because we understood, unlike Lynyrd Skynyrd, how ridiculous we were.
When we got to Cincinnati we immediately biked to the nearest Skyline Chili to partake in the local cuisine. I had a 5-Way (Chili, onions, cheese and beans all over spaghetti) and some delicious fries, while Zach regaled us with a story from his college days involving cookies, Disney's Bambi, the police, and the hospital. I'll leave you to fill in the blanks.
Then all of us hit the Cincinnati YMCA and its amazing pool. We had a nice cool-off and showered up.
...and now here I am back at the church! It's dinner time so I should go.
We went to Huntington's Kitchen, an institution started by Jamie Oliver, made famous by "Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution", in which Jamie, a big time English chef and health-food advocate, worked to transform the eating culture of Huntington, America's most obese city. So that was neat to see. We had coffee and hamburgers, and I walked to the other side of town with Kristen, Andy, Brit and Emma to see the city rose garden, which was lovely. The night ended back at the church with Jesse and I watching Animal Planet and placing bets on the elephant seals duking it out while David Attenborough narrated. Sidenote: elephant seals are maybe the goofiest looking animals ever, especially when they fight.
After Huntington it was time to say goodbye to West Virginia and move on to Ohio, our third state, and a new adventure.
Here's my overall take on Eastern Ohio. It has a few things in terrific abundance:
1) American flags. When you are in Ohio there is absolutely no way to get confused about what country you are in. It easily has the highest concentration of American flags I've seen so far. Their own flag is just a knock-off of the country's. Even their license plates are red, white, and blue.
2) Unleashed dogs. The hills constantly echo with barking as you roll through the foothills. Sometimes you get chased by them. I got really good at scaring them off for the most part. I took Zach's advice: act like the biggest, meanest dog you can. For the most part this strategy worked pretty well, as I'd bark and growl while I was riding by. Sometimes, however, those packs got a little too out of hand, and I knew the better option was to just book it.
3) Sneaky uphills. Dear Appalachia, we're breaking up. I'm sorry if that's hard for you to grasp, but following us into Ohio is just uncalled for. You gotta watch for these hills. You may spend a whole morning, like us, cruising over the flat farmland only to have the steepest hill of the entire trip sneak up on you.
4) Subsequently, terrifying downhills. Four of us, myself included, all ate it on this one insanely sharp, wet hairpin. One girl got a concussion. She's fine now, but it'll be a few days before her face stops swelling. As for me, I was very lucky. Just some scrapes on my knee, elbow, and bottom. I knew this was gonna be part of the territory, so I'm not making a big fuss. Although, I never quite realized how much I used my elbow until I can't use it at all.
We spent our first night in Ohio in a very sleepy town called Portsmouth. Working off the timeless phrase "when in Rome", I napped for 3 hours, had dinner, and then right back to sleep.
The ride from Portsmouth to our next town, Georgetown, was a day of highs and lows. On the standpoint fo lows, this was the day where we all ate it. However, on the high side, I crossed the Ohio to tag Kentucky, and had a wonderful moment hugging the state sign, and then singing "My Old Kentucky Home" as I crossed back over the river. The farmland out here was also beautiful. The fields looked like something from a Van Gogh painting, while the people were more like the characters from the Andy Griffith Show.
Our hosts in Georgetown were lovely, and I spent the afternoon playing poker with Jesse, Joe, Zach and Will Green, using skittles instead of chips.
Then today was the ride into Cincinnati. The suburban sprawl didn't make for much in the way of an exciting ride, so Jesse and I spent the morning making up 80's powermetal songs. Our mega-hit was a 9-minute anthem called "Cincinnati" which sounded like it belonged in Top Gun. It was a blast cranking through the outskirts of Cincinnati, screaming these lyrics, and it was especially great when Jesse, Laura and I all started to take a lead guitar solo at the same time. It was like "Free Bird", only better, because we understood, unlike Lynyrd Skynyrd, how ridiculous we were.
When we got to Cincinnati we immediately biked to the nearest Skyline Chili to partake in the local cuisine. I had a 5-Way (Chili, onions, cheese and beans all over spaghetti) and some delicious fries, while Zach regaled us with a story from his college days involving cookies, Disney's Bambi, the police, and the hospital. I'll leave you to fill in the blanks.
Then all of us hit the Cincinnati YMCA and its amazing pool. We had a nice cool-off and showered up.
...and now here I am back at the church! It's dinner time so I should go.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Day 14: Huntington, West Virginia: "By God"
I must apologize profusely to my audience for the recent lull in updates. West Virginia is stunning, and the people have been wonderful, but internet hubs are far and few between.
Oh, I'm in West Virginia by the way.
And where to begin on regaling my adventures through the Appalachian State?
Last time I updated I was in Lexington, Virginia, recovering from a day long battle against the mountains and the elements. We got to sleep in that morning 'til 5:30am, and at our route meeting Sharif told us we could expect more of the same that day. The ride from Lexington to Marlinton was also very trying. The morning was lovely and cool, and I was starting to get the hang of the little hills at least. i've found the trick is all in the momentum. I try to build up as much as possible before the hill starts, then I shift down into lower gears as needed to get to the top. This trick was building my confidence up, but I was still not ready when we hit our first serious mountain that day, Warm Spring.
The ascent of Warm Spring was brutal. Lunch was waiting for us at the very very top of a three mile climb that was at least a 30 degree steepness at certain points. By the time I got to it I simply didn't have the fuel to take on that mountain. i was running out of water and it took the energy of three (yes THREE) Snicker's bars to get me to lug my bike, on foot, through the heat, to the top of Warm Springs.
The view from the top, however, was literally and figuratively breathtaking. I hammered down some lunch and dozed off to recover, and then proceeded down the other side.
The downhill from Warm Springs was amazing, as is all the downhill. There was a point during the descent where I was going just as fast as the motorcycles in front of me. It was a short-lived moment in a long day, but it was enough of a morale boost to keep me going.
I dug deep enough on the next mountain to bike at least half of it. The fact that I was closing in on the border with West Virginia kept me moving. Coasting through that third valley nature began to call in a big way. I stopped in a gas station in a small town, only to be told by a sweet woman who sounded like she’d been smoking 6 packs a day since the age of 4 that the next working bathroom was 7 miles away. Therein lay a dilemma, because the West Virginia border was 6 miles away, and I didn’t want to be clenching my butt cheeks as I crossed my first state line.
So I did my business in the woods. Perhaps that’s TMI, but I honestly am not ashamed. It was liberating and exhilarating. I felt at one with nature, giving back to the circle of life.
I alternated between walking and climbing up the third mountain and, soon after the crest, I did it. I rolled into West Virginia. A new state. A new story.
I couldn’t help but reflect on how much just the first state was transforming me. I mean, I’m certainly no athlete, but I did something I never thought I could do. I’ve started making friends with some really amazing people, and I’ve been at least a very, very small source of inspiration for a large number of small-towners, church-goers, and Habitat affiliates. These have been good days. Very, very good days, and though being in better shape may help me through the das a little more, I’m still out here, I’m still trying my hardest, and I’m still doing something I’ll be able to brag to my grandkids about.
I soloed the first 5 or so miles of WV and then caught up with a small group of bikers. Together we peddled into Marlinton, WV, and then cranked up that last hill before we reached our host. My legs were giving out, and I fell behind at that last hill, but once I hit the crest I coasted into town, rolled into the church driveway, and felt great for getting there. 77 miles. Much of it hiked, but I did it nonetheless.
I rushed to get a shower, and then lined up with the rest o the team for what’s easily been our best dinner so far. The folks at this church went all out. Literally too many good items to fully fit into my field of vision. Some dishes of note were Salisbury steak, meatballs, buns, mashed potatoes, lasagna, and pineapple upside down cake. Oh, and coffee. Real coffee.
I sat with the pastor and his wife and we eventually got on the subject of music. As it turns out the pastor had been playing bass for years, and loved to play gospel. He suggested a jam, and I almost exploded with excitement.
So after dinner the pastor showed me the stage, where the church kept a fully stocked set of band instruments. An electric guitar, a bass, a drum kit, a keyboard, bongos, mics, and tambourines.
One of the church members hopped on the keyboard and taught me some gospel, and we started singing loud and proud to anyone who entered into the church. Eventually the majority of the team was in there, and about ten of us eventually found their way on stage to sing, drum, play tambourine, or just danced. It. Was. A. Blast. A few songs in our set of note were “I’ll Fly Away”, “This Little Light of Mine”, and “Praise Him”. The whole crowd joined in for the faster ones and there was a great deal of stomping, clapping, and general merriment. After about an hour of this, we agreed to rock one last song, one of my personal favorites, “Country Roads”, which seemed all kinds of appropriate for our first night in a new state.
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong.
West Virginia! Mountain Mama!
Take me home, country roads.
After that beautiful rest in Marlinton something seemed to drastically change overnight. I really surprised myself on the ride into Summersville, and managed to bike the entire route across some serious, serious mountains.
The morning started right away with a 4 mile climb out of the Marlinton valley. Seeing the foggy forest all around me and feeling my blood pumping almost out of my legs, I found myself humming Led Zeppelin's "Misty Mountain Hop", and it became an anthem for the day. When I reached the top of the first mountain I and a group of about 6 other bikers enjoyed the remarkable view. Within the first 2 hours we had climbed 3000 feet (our max elevation for the day was 4545 feet). Looking out over that misty valley, which we'd biked out of, was beyond rewarding. The mist filled in the valley for miles, to where it looked like an enormous white ocean, and we were watching the waves from a sheer cliff.
After sufficient time was spent appreciating this first view, we enjoyed some downhill and then took on the beastliest climb in all of Appalachia. A FIVE. MILE. ASCENT. It certainly wasn't pretty, but I made it to the top on my bike, and the endorphin rush was indescribable when the road flattened out finally. At this point I was rolling with Jen and Brit across the mountaintop, which opened up to a stunning panoramic view of Appalachia.
Eventually we started returning from the clouds and I was humming along to lunch when from behind me I heard "WILL! GRAVY TRAIN! LATCH ON!"
The experienced bikers, who were behind me at the time (from stopping in a gas station, not from my skill) had formed what's known as a slip-stream, a train of bikers which creates a beautiful pocket of calm air for everyone behind the front rider. It allows a team to soar. We were eventually flirting with about 40 miles an hour and only stopped because we knew if we didn't lunch would once again be too far out and there may have been a riot
So we found an amazing lunch spot next to a river, and I enjoyed a swim and a PB&Salisbury Steak&Stuffing sandwich before moving on.
The other mountains after lunch were trying but not nearly as bad as what I'd taken on, and that kept me going. Even when I saw the sign for Summersville, turned around the corner, and saw I had one more nasty climb before I made it into town, I rolled with the punches and made it into the host site. It was a tremendous sensation of accomplishment. We celebrated by traveling to the local lake and enjoying an incredibly refreshing swim.
At this point we'd made it over the peaks of the Appalachians, and the next two days' routes were pretty much all downhill and delightful. From Summersville we coasted into Charleston, that is until the last hour, when we had to climb once more. And, as luck would have it, a thunderstorm rolled in right when the route really started to tense up
We took shelter under a porch and began watching the splashes that passing car made to keep ourselves entertained. Once the storm calmed down enough Jen and I decided it was game time and immediately hopped on the bikes. We battled rain and mountain, and were rewarded with the most remarkable view of Charleston, right as the storm cleared and the sun shined off that golden capitol building dome.
Sleep in Charleston was well earned, and today's route was a welcome break. We did a brief tour of the city and explored the capitol building, which is truly beautiful, and frankly blows Kentucky's capitol out of the water. There were gilded roofs and ceilings, and statues to prominent West Virginian figures like Abraham Lincoln, who granted WV statehood during the Civil War, and Robert Byrd, the "West Virginian of the 20th Century". I couldn't help but wonder who will eventually fill the vacant statue spaces for the West Virginian of the 21st Century and 22nd Century.
The ride from Huntington was easy, if a little boring. Route 60 is certainly not the prettiest part of West Virginia. It's basically just a lot of franchises and angry drivers, but company was good and the route was stupid-fast, at only 49 miles.
So now we're in Huntington, and excited to be in an actual city again. Being in Charleston during Memorial Day didn't do any favors for my perception of Charleston as being a ghost town. Tonight however there's talk of restaurants, bars, and general exploration that will make for a welcome change from the slow smalltown lifestyle we've been taking in for the last few days.
And that's about all there is of note to the ride through West Virginia. In summary, lovely people, lovely land, brutal but rewarding routes, and of course progressive bonding with the team, and newfound appreciation for small-town America. Tomorrow we'll be crossing the border into Ohio and whole new adventures will begin!
Oh, I'm in West Virginia by the way.
And where to begin on regaling my adventures through the Appalachian State?
Last time I updated I was in Lexington, Virginia, recovering from a day long battle against the mountains and the elements. We got to sleep in that morning 'til 5:30am, and at our route meeting Sharif told us we could expect more of the same that day. The ride from Lexington to Marlinton was also very trying. The morning was lovely and cool, and I was starting to get the hang of the little hills at least. i've found the trick is all in the momentum. I try to build up as much as possible before the hill starts, then I shift down into lower gears as needed to get to the top. This trick was building my confidence up, but I was still not ready when we hit our first serious mountain that day, Warm Spring.
The ascent of Warm Spring was brutal. Lunch was waiting for us at the very very top of a three mile climb that was at least a 30 degree steepness at certain points. By the time I got to it I simply didn't have the fuel to take on that mountain. i was running out of water and it took the energy of three (yes THREE) Snicker's bars to get me to lug my bike, on foot, through the heat, to the top of Warm Springs.
The view from the top, however, was literally and figuratively breathtaking. I hammered down some lunch and dozed off to recover, and then proceeded down the other side.
The downhill from Warm Springs was amazing, as is all the downhill. There was a point during the descent where I was going just as fast as the motorcycles in front of me. It was a short-lived moment in a long day, but it was enough of a morale boost to keep me going.
I dug deep enough on the next mountain to bike at least half of it. The fact that I was closing in on the border with West Virginia kept me moving. Coasting through that third valley nature began to call in a big way. I stopped in a gas station in a small town, only to be told by a sweet woman who sounded like she’d been smoking 6 packs a day since the age of 4 that the next working bathroom was 7 miles away. Therein lay a dilemma, because the West Virginia border was 6 miles away, and I didn’t want to be clenching my butt cheeks as I crossed my first state line.
So I did my business in the woods. Perhaps that’s TMI, but I honestly am not ashamed. It was liberating and exhilarating. I felt at one with nature, giving back to the circle of life.
I alternated between walking and climbing up the third mountain and, soon after the crest, I did it. I rolled into West Virginia. A new state. A new story.
I couldn’t help but reflect on how much just the first state was transforming me. I mean, I’m certainly no athlete, but I did something I never thought I could do. I’ve started making friends with some really amazing people, and I’ve been at least a very, very small source of inspiration for a large number of small-towners, church-goers, and Habitat affiliates. These have been good days. Very, very good days, and though being in better shape may help me through the das a little more, I’m still out here, I’m still trying my hardest, and I’m still doing something I’ll be able to brag to my grandkids about.
I soloed the first 5 or so miles of WV and then caught up with a small group of bikers. Together we peddled into Marlinton, WV, and then cranked up that last hill before we reached our host. My legs were giving out, and I fell behind at that last hill, but once I hit the crest I coasted into town, rolled into the church driveway, and felt great for getting there. 77 miles. Much of it hiked, but I did it nonetheless.
I rushed to get a shower, and then lined up with the rest o the team for what’s easily been our best dinner so far. The folks at this church went all out. Literally too many good items to fully fit into my field of vision. Some dishes of note were Salisbury steak, meatballs, buns, mashed potatoes, lasagna, and pineapple upside down cake. Oh, and coffee. Real coffee.
I sat with the pastor and his wife and we eventually got on the subject of music. As it turns out the pastor had been playing bass for years, and loved to play gospel. He suggested a jam, and I almost exploded with excitement.
So after dinner the pastor showed me the stage, where the church kept a fully stocked set of band instruments. An electric guitar, a bass, a drum kit, a keyboard, bongos, mics, and tambourines.
One of the church members hopped on the keyboard and taught me some gospel, and we started singing loud and proud to anyone who entered into the church. Eventually the majority of the team was in there, and about ten of us eventually found their way on stage to sing, drum, play tambourine, or just danced. It. Was. A. Blast. A few songs in our set of note were “I’ll Fly Away”, “This Little Light of Mine”, and “Praise Him”. The whole crowd joined in for the faster ones and there was a great deal of stomping, clapping, and general merriment. After about an hour of this, we agreed to rock one last song, one of my personal favorites, “Country Roads”, which seemed all kinds of appropriate for our first night in a new state.
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong.
West Virginia! Mountain Mama!
Take me home, country roads.
After that beautiful rest in Marlinton something seemed to drastically change overnight. I really surprised myself on the ride into Summersville, and managed to bike the entire route across some serious, serious mountains.
The morning started right away with a 4 mile climb out of the Marlinton valley. Seeing the foggy forest all around me and feeling my blood pumping almost out of my legs, I found myself humming Led Zeppelin's "Misty Mountain Hop", and it became an anthem for the day. When I reached the top of the first mountain I and a group of about 6 other bikers enjoyed the remarkable view. Within the first 2 hours we had climbed 3000 feet (our max elevation for the day was 4545 feet). Looking out over that misty valley, which we'd biked out of, was beyond rewarding. The mist filled in the valley for miles, to where it looked like an enormous white ocean, and we were watching the waves from a sheer cliff.
After sufficient time was spent appreciating this first view, we enjoyed some downhill and then took on the beastliest climb in all of Appalachia. A FIVE. MILE. ASCENT. It certainly wasn't pretty, but I made it to the top on my bike, and the endorphin rush was indescribable when the road flattened out finally. At this point I was rolling with Jen and Brit across the mountaintop, which opened up to a stunning panoramic view of Appalachia.
Eventually we started returning from the clouds and I was humming along to lunch when from behind me I heard "WILL! GRAVY TRAIN! LATCH ON!"
The experienced bikers, who were behind me at the time (from stopping in a gas station, not from my skill) had formed what's known as a slip-stream, a train of bikers which creates a beautiful pocket of calm air for everyone behind the front rider. It allows a team to soar. We were eventually flirting with about 40 miles an hour and only stopped because we knew if we didn't lunch would once again be too far out and there may have been a riot
So we found an amazing lunch spot next to a river, and I enjoyed a swim and a PB&Salisbury Steak&Stuffing sandwich before moving on.
The other mountains after lunch were trying but not nearly as bad as what I'd taken on, and that kept me going. Even when I saw the sign for Summersville, turned around the corner, and saw I had one more nasty climb before I made it into town, I rolled with the punches and made it into the host site. It was a tremendous sensation of accomplishment. We celebrated by traveling to the local lake and enjoying an incredibly refreshing swim.
At this point we'd made it over the peaks of the Appalachians, and the next two days' routes were pretty much all downhill and delightful. From Summersville we coasted into Charleston, that is until the last hour, when we had to climb once more. And, as luck would have it, a thunderstorm rolled in right when the route really started to tense up
We took shelter under a porch and began watching the splashes that passing car made to keep ourselves entertained. Once the storm calmed down enough Jen and I decided it was game time and immediately hopped on the bikes. We battled rain and mountain, and were rewarded with the most remarkable view of Charleston, right as the storm cleared and the sun shined off that golden capitol building dome.
Sleep in Charleston was well earned, and today's route was a welcome break. We did a brief tour of the city and explored the capitol building, which is truly beautiful, and frankly blows Kentucky's capitol out of the water. There were gilded roofs and ceilings, and statues to prominent West Virginian figures like Abraham Lincoln, who granted WV statehood during the Civil War, and Robert Byrd, the "West Virginian of the 20th Century". I couldn't help but wonder who will eventually fill the vacant statue spaces for the West Virginian of the 21st Century and 22nd Century.
The ride from Huntington was easy, if a little boring. Route 60 is certainly not the prettiest part of West Virginia. It's basically just a lot of franchises and angry drivers, but company was good and the route was stupid-fast, at only 49 miles.
So now we're in Huntington, and excited to be in an actual city again. Being in Charleston during Memorial Day didn't do any favors for my perception of Charleston as being a ghost town. Tonight however there's talk of restaurants, bars, and general exploration that will make for a welcome change from the slow smalltown lifestyle we've been taking in for the last few days.
And that's about all there is of note to the ride through West Virginia. In summary, lovely people, lovely land, brutal but rewarding routes, and of course progressive bonding with the team, and newfound appreciation for small-town America. Tomorrow we'll be crossing the border into Ohio and whole new adventures will begin!
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