Thursday, July 22, 2010

Day 65: Ontario, Oregon: "Family"

This blog has to start with my thoughts on Paige Hicks. For those of you who haven't been on Bike & Build's website in a while, the organization has been hit with a terrible tragedy. Paige, a rider on the Providence to Seattle team this year, and an alumna from last year's Providence to San Francisco team, was victim of a tragic cycling accident and passed away three days ago, on July 20th.

It's something you simply never expect to happen to yourself or someone you know at this age. It's confusing, it's sad, and the entire Bike & Build community is in mourning over the loss of such a fantastic person of tremendous promise. I personally never knew Paige, but I get the sense that I do *know* her. Her and I have shared in a distinguished life-changing experience. We've shared a passion for adventure, for service, and for life and have pursued these passions while biking across the country, taking every mountain, fighting every headwind, enjoying the connection we make with each person, enjoying the love and laughter made every minute.

The most positive perspective I've been able to find amidst this tragedy is that it has given my team and the rest of the community, all seven other routes and seven other years' worth of other routes, a chance to demonstrate the love and support we have for each other. Because of the shared experiences, its easy to feel like this organization is one giant family. Without knowing anything else about me, alumni have welcomed me into their home and given of themselves tirelessly to support me and my cause. Now that we have lost one of our own we're steeped in sadness, but I have also been completely blown away by the support and love that has risen out of the woodwork in the last few days. No matter what happens, no matter how much time or how many miles separate us, we have each other, and we have each other for life, because we have all changed our lives together.

I want to extend my deepest condolences to Paige's family and her team. I want them to know that I ride for Paige and that her memory lives on in the very soul of our team. I know that she would want us to keep ridong, no matter what, and to keep celebrating the gifts of this journey. As such, I will move on, for now, to describe my adventure between Idaho Falls and hearing the news of her passing...

The last time I updated this blog Idaho was a brand new state for me and I didn't know what to expect. As it turns out there's been a little bit of everything, with a majority of it being surprisingly awesome.

For our build day in Idaho Falls we hopped on the bikes and rode across town to the swank new location for the local Habitat affiliate's ReStore. It's a serious upgrade. They're going from some dilapidated old house in the church district to a refurbished consignment store in the heart of town. The affiliate's new director, a woman named Karen, has a lot of ambitious goals for the chapter and their new ReStore is the crux. When we rolled up 31 volunteers strong, she was thrilled but also nervous, telling us she'd never worked with such a large group before in her life. The whole job was a new adventure for Karen, since she'd only started a few months ago, but she was positive and jumped into the day with both feet.

Karen provided enough work for each of us to feel useful the entire day. I wound up freelancing since there were so many different jobs. I started by painting the outside of the store with a paint-sprayer, which is a crazy-fun power tool. It basically shoots out high-pressured clouds of paint, and you can cover a wall in about a 6th of the time it would normally take with rollers. not to mention it's just fun to wield. It looks like some kind of crazy sci-fi weapon! So I played with that for a while, then hung out on the roof helping Andy and Sharif remove the old consignment store sign, which wound up being a sketchy venture to say the least, with Andy 20 feet up in the air unsrewing 100-pound pieces of wood out of a billboard and trying as best he could to drop them gently. Eventually I wound up being a fifth wheel there, so I did some trim-work in what is going to be the main showroom for the new ReStore. The day ended with us painting the showroom, and by 3 you could really appreciate the amount of work the team had put into the building that day. It really did transform before our eyes, and Karen was elated. I'm proud to say she was also pleased with the exciting paint-pattern I placed on the center shelf. I get an eye for design from my mom I s'pose. Ya know.

After a full day of putting in the hours for Habitat we were cordially invited by the pastor of our hosting church to a cook-out at his home outside of town. Man. Little did we know.

For one thing, Pastor Dennis has a lot of toys. Not one, but *two* grills, a beautiful backyard with a volleyball court, and these crazy heater-things that shot up open flames. Dennis said during the winter, when you turned them on, you could grill outside in your shorts and not notice a thing. But wait! There's more! The whole team got to admire his ginormous-screen TV, and watch two local news stations cover our build day from just a few hours before. He also had two beautiful toys in his garage. One was an early-60s Harley Davidson motorcycle that looked like something you'd ride on the way to Woodstock. The other, a 1965 Ford Mustang. I don't know a lot about cars, but I know that car was awesome. It looked like the bat mobile, and Pastor Dennis had kept it in such incredible condition that it made me wonder what year it was.

So the team chilled in the back yard, mingling with the congregation and enjoying a quiet cook-out in suburbia. I should also mention that Dennis made the best sausages I've ever had, and burgers which came close to making me reevaluate my own recipe. It was fun talking about grilling with him. That's something I miss. That's gonna be good to get home to. But, then again, I'm not in any hurry.

Passing into a very respectable food coma, the team was ferried back to the church for bed time. Sadly I didn't get to ride in the Mustang, but I did get to talk to Karen some more about the exciting plans she has for Idaho Falls Habitat. I wish absolutely all of the best for her. She has a great vision.

So we slept. Then we woke. From Idaho Falls the plan was to hit up Arco, the first city in the world to be lit with nuclear power! Bet you didn't know that, huh? Sarah Crawford and I had the privilege of sweeping that day and it was perfect. The ride was smooth and surprisingly windless all day, and certainly the prettiest part of Idaho we'd seen at that point, with the Rockies, an ever-present force in our lives these days, sneaking back up over the horizon to show their mighty snow-capped peaks and pose their challenges. Swept up in the fever of excitement for nuclear power, a good half of the team stopped by EBR-1 (Experimental Breeding Reactor 1), the first nuclear power plant in the WORLD. Bet you didn't know that, huh? Sarah and I took a tour of the factory and learned more about nuclear fission than I certainly ever expected to on this trip. The old plant was so cool. There were computers the size of refrigerators and huge metal drums which stored coolants and carbon rods and the like. It was like a scene from the original Star Trek series. But the highlight was definitely the manipulator station. So you know in movies when you see scientists controlling robotic arms to work with dangerous materials? yeah, we got to play with those arms. And I was really good at them thanks to my 15 or so years of videogame-playing. I stayed at that station way longer than any 20-year-old should, but I did make a pretty impressive pyramid of blocks.

When we were finished running through the factory Sarah and I continued on our journey to Arco, admiring the mountains and talking about everything important, which is our way. She has a tendency to pull my deeper side out of me, and we had a great dialogue about life, religion, love, politics, fate, adventure, and everything in between. I love being able to have those kinds of one-on-ones with folks on this trip.

And as for Arco it definitely had this air of 1950s-nuclear-boom-town. There were atomic symbols everywhere, and the town was holding a festival called "Nuclear Days", but most of us were to tired to actually attend (though I could hear the live music from the window next to my sleeping-quarters that night). Something else I found really interesting: There's a butte overlooking the town covered in painted numbers. A member of the church we stayed with that night explained that the local high-schoolers, sometime in their senior year, have a tradition of sneaking up to the mountain and lowering someone over the ridge in a tire tied to a rope with a paint brush. The rambunction teens paint their graduating year on the side of the mountain, and then disappear into the night. They've been doing it for at least 50 years. It's a fascinating, quaint little piece of history. I never caught the man's name, but his whole family was great. The wife cooked us spaghetti with an elk-based meat sauce, and his two sons, one five and the other 9 months, delighted the team with their adorableness. The 5 year old, Jonathan, developed a keen fascination for my macbook and we hung out playing with the different visual effects on photoshop until it rolled around to his bedtime. Ours wasn't too far behind his.

Next was our ride to Challis, in which we would cut into the Rockies, once again, to enter the mountainous heart of Idaho, the Sawtooths. For whatever reason I flew that morning along the flat leading up to the mountain, and was actually out in first for the first 25 miles or so, finally backing down to break for streching and a sorely-needed Clif bar. When I jumped back in the road it wasn't long before the Fast People (Noah, Zach, et al.) to catch me, and they were kind enough to invite me into their paceline, which I enjoyed for all of 5 minutes before deciding it put to much stress on me. I breaked along the road right in between and beautiful mountain range to my right and a lake to my left, and when I hopped back on joined a paceline that was a little better suited. Still a good challenge, though. It's very satisfying to be able to comfortably ride in the middle-front of the pack, and we, by which I mean myself, Emma, Derrick, Emily, Caroline, Dave, and Will Green, had great laughs rolling into lunch.

After lunch the laughs died down for a good portion and things got real. Really, riding through the Sawtooths is like a fun house, nothing is quite what it seems. Our first solid evidence would have to be from when Zach and I placed a bet on how far down the road ne particular mountain was. It turned out to be 7 or so miles, but it was an exhausting 7, with heinous headwinds mocking our efforts and a road that was going uphill just enough to look flat but to inexplicably take all of our energy out of us. We kept our minds of the road by geeking out, which is something I thoroughly enjoy doing with Zach. We talked about Joss Whedon's "Firefly", talked about who on the team would be which characters from "Firefly", etc. (I'm Wash, and I'm happy with that).

I had to break to knock back a packet of "gel" because the wind was really killing me. Incidentally, mocha-flavored "gel" is nasty. It's like eating really thick chocolate icing. It'd also been in my back pocket in the desert for 3 hours so it was warm, which you may think would make mocha taste better but no. But I'll be darned if it didn't do its job! There was a mountain. I climbed it. Then I enjoyed 20 miles of steady downhill, the highlight being a pass through Grandview Canyon. In another moment of geeking out, Will Green said it was like pod-racing from the new Star Wars trilogy. For those on which that reference is lost, the more romantic description would be like biking through the ruins of some ancient civilization. There were towers of sanstone which had wrinkled, buckled, and toppled over time to create this wild, rugged city of bright orange rock. Truly beautiful.

With the tough portion of the day behind us, the ride into Challis was a cinch, and our host was amazing. We stayed at a retreat center in the foothills outside of town and I spent the afternoon exploring the hiking trails, reading by the koi pond, and napping next to a babbling brook. We ha a team meeting that night and, after 8 long weeks, finally held elections for King of the Beard-Off. I'd shaved my beard into lightning-bolt sideburns for the occasion and we all catwalked to give our last impressions. I placed a solid 4th. Andy got length, and Jesse got both volume and style, having shaved his beard into an exact replica of the beard from the villain from the movie Wild Wild West. I sugggest you look it up. Words don't do it justice. there are just so many angles!

Afterwards Jesse, Laura, Raleigh and I played doodling games until we laughed ourselves to tears. I slept outside and, for the umpteenth time, admired the mountain stars until my eyes got too heavy.

The next day was a stunning ride through the Sawtooths to Stanley, Idaho. I rode with Jesse that day and we spent about 5 hours of our ride cracking each other up. He's a good bro. The scenery really stole the show, though. Pinetrees all around, the Salmon River roaring on our left side, the mountains looming overhead, and, rolling into Stanley, we had a perfect frame of William's peak and the surrounding range.

We camped out that night and celebrated two birthdays, since it was both Alyson's 25th and Kristen's 21st. zthose of age went into town to raise a ruckus and I stayed back and played guitar by the moonlight. When they returned I got a kick out of the stories from the night and then went to bed.

Sleeping outside that night, however, was a huge mistake. It. Got. Cold. It was like Mother nature was nagging and screaming in my ear the entire night. My sleeping bag retained just enough warmth to keep me alive but not asleep, and I tossed and turned for a good two hours cursing myself for not claiming a spot in one of the tents. Eventually my body dealt, but there was a *lot* of character building that night, and, subsequently, a lot on today's ride.

Today was worked across 93 miles of legit Rockies. We woke up at 5 to take on the day and it was farciacally cold. Those of us who weren't working on morning chores took shifts running laps around the field and, when it was finally time to leave, the first thing half the team did was roll into town and invade the local coffee shop. I had a mountainous scramble and two cups of very strong coffee, and, sufficiently warmed and wired, sopped out with Jesse again. We freestyled an hour. Long. Power ballad about Idaho and also had good talks. Our first climb was a total breeze and was followed by 9 miles of descent to our first lunch stop. We thought we had the day in the bag.

But in the Sawtooths (or is it "Sawteeth"?) nothing is as it seems. The segment in between our two lunches was brutal. A 10-mile climb that took its sweet time getting over the mountains. there were at least 5 or 6 instances in which I thought I'd made it to the top only to see, around the corner, that I was no where close. By the time I got to second lunch I was livid. My blood was boiling and I was ready to descend. Sadly, though, we had much more mountain to cross. Every time it seemed like we finally founf the descent, we'd go for maybe a quarter mile only to find we had to climb back up another half mile. We rolled through valley after valley. It was beautiful but maddening. But also a gift. It's exactly what I needed these days. I've proven myself physically, and now I'm working into the psychology of biking, and enduring all those climbs and frustrations that come with it. But I succeeded! it was a long, long day but I never let it break me. There were points where I came close, but I would always envision myself 20 feet ahead, and convince myself that I can *always* go another 20 feet. It worked great and I battled my way across the mountains with a smile.

And in comparison to the other rides as of late, the ride into Boise with an effing cakewalk, at a mere 40 miles, with nearly 3/4s of it downhill. I rode with Kristen and we had great talks about service and saving the world. That girl's going to do amazing things and change lives. I can just tell. She cares too much to *not* make a difference, and she inspires the rest of this team with her compassion. Anyways, we rode to Boise. The last section i enjoyed in particular, a beautiful, sun-baked orange canyon with lichen crawling up either side. We made it into Boise before 11am, hich gave us ample time and reason to have second breakfast, and it was the best of the entire trip. Maybe even in my top 3 breakfasts ever. After biking across a super-tough state, few things could have satisfied me as much as the omelet, chorizo, potatoes and fresh coffee I had that morning with good friends like Jen and Jesse and Zach. I don't know if you're aware of this but Boise also has the highest Basque population outside of Spain, and it reflects in the city's restaurants, shops, architecture, and handsome waiters which left the womenfolk of our team swooning and tipping inappropriately large amounts.

We received word about Paige's passing that first night in Boise, and the mood immediately changed. It was utterly shocking. We were left frightened, sad and stunned, but it was a very emotionally powerful night for the team. We all stayed in, had a group hug/prayer in the church courtyard, and then spent the rest of the evening just being there for each other.

I expected to be as shaken the next day as I was the first, but I had a realization over the night: a Bike & Builder, like Paige, would want us to keep riding, literally and figuratively. The fact that I'm alive at all is a blessing, and there's no denying that. Moreover, I'm surronded by amazing friends, and on the adventure of a lifetime. With these realizations in consideration, I have a sense of recommitment to everything important about this trip and about life, and I have Paige to thank for it.

That evening we all sat in a circle with a ball of tie-dyed yarn, which we passed around to make bracelets, since Paige often wore tie-dye. As the yarn was passed, we each had a chance to speak our mind to the rest of the team, and I said three major things. First, there was a chance, even in these sad times, to see the love and support BNB has. Second, every time I look at my new bracelet, I will think of Paige, think of this trip, and think of how lucky I am to be alive, and to experince all that life has to offer. I will aim to be more aware of the blessings I've been given, and not squander my relationships with other people. Third, I told my team that I respected them all for who they were, loved them deeply, and was a better person for having them in my life. It's something I wish to say to all the family and friends in my life at some point, and it's something I'll say to the audience of this blog. It's sad that it sometimes takes something this sad to awaken us to these truths, to make us aware and grateful to be alive, but if I and others are left inspired to live a fuller life, than perhaps this is a fine way for Paige's legacy to live on.

Today we crossed the border into Oregon. It's our final state. Our final leg of the journey. Our final chance to get the most we can out of this trip, this journey that has already transformed me in more ways than I can fathom, let alone describe to you. I'm thankful to be here. I'm thankful to be *here*. And, as all the riders will say, I now ride for Paige Hicks.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Day 57: Idaho Falls, Idaho: "Forever West"

I'll tell you, one of the coolest sights in my entire life has to be seeing the snow on top of the Grand River Mountains of Wyoming while biking across the dusty Wyoming desert.

Such was the scenery of the ride from Rock Springs to Pinedale, our second century which, in relation with the one to Denver, was a serious breeze.

For starters I can finally tell that I'm getting stronger. I talked a lot in my last entry about how I've found my rhythm. I've figured out how I like to ride, how much resistance I like to give, and where I need to push myself. And, above all else, I look realy good in my cycling gear. The goal for this second century was to keep at a steady pace and ride with other friends, and I, fortunately, excelled at both.

The leaders also came up with a brilliant way to help us all pass the time and make something fun out of the century. Are you ready for this? Photo scavenger hunt. We were mixed up into teams, and mine was obviously the best. I was with Alyson, who played the role of team safety-monitor, Mark, our risk-taker, Caroline, our brains *and* muscle, and Kristen, our social leverage as "the cute one". And me? I was the wild card. In these types of events I excel at two things: coming up with ridiculous (though not necessarily feasible) ideas, and being willing to do anything. We were stacked. We were strong. We were ready to roll.

In a rut of early-morning lack of creativity the team settled for the name "Team USA", but it grew on us. After all, who could argue with America? And *no one* could argue with our team spirit as we rolled past other teams and threw out obnoxious chants, the others already bickering and forming rifts due to their artistic differences.

The photo prompts were filled with the classic staples. Get a picture with a stranger. Spell out a word cheer-leader style. Get a shot of two riders holding hands while on the bikes. Etc. Etc. We played it conservative with a lot of our shots and this was perhaps our downfall, but each one was at least a *good* shot in its own right. We had a shoot out at the gas station a la "Zoolander". Our "scenic shot" was a close-up of Mark's toned biker butt. Our best though definitely had to be our double, in which we checked off both "Lady Gaga Pose" and "Picture with the van driver" by getting Kristen to hand-feed a Derrick a Honey Bun. For those, like me, who don't have terribly extensive knowledge of Lady Gaga this is a recreation, and I will say an *awesome* one, of the scene from the music video to "Telephone", in which Lady Gaga breaks out of prison and, driving away with Beyonce, is fed a Honey Bun. Derrick is a sucker for all things Gaga. Having Kristen play the part of Beyonce was the clincher.

As we rode along the desert to Pinedale, whilst hunting down good scavenger hunt shots, Team USA also took advantage of the chance for good conversation. We played a game of Sarah Graham's invention: going through the alphabet, players take turns thinking of things that inspire them which correspond with the letter. For example, I got "H", and chose to talk about my little brother, Hank. Aw. It was cool hearing that side of the rest of the team, and, as a bonus, it kept us both occupied and inspired as we worked our way across the beautifully oppressive desert.

Soon enough the Rockies reappeared on our right. Pinedale was nigh and things were going smooth. Unfortunately, the Weather Gods decided things were perhaps going *too* smooth, and decided to send a nasty desert rain our way. Folks around here insist that the weather has been especially bad this year. Lucky us. The temperature dropped about 50 degrees in 10 minutes, and we all found ourselves scrambling to throw on our extra layers and debating whether to ride through the hail or wait it out in a huddled mass. Riding on proved to be the better decision, though the wind whipped us and we all wound up with mud splattered all over our faces and gear by our wheels.

This was made better by lamas. We came across a farm and a very friendly ranch-hand named Karen invited us closer up to watch as she fed them treats. She explained to us the intricacies of lama-farming and lama-packing. I was impressed by how smart they were, and how adorable the babies were. We were in the exact kind of Wyoming I'd always imagined; farmland sandwiched in between desert and mountain, filled with the best kind of quirky folks: adventure-seekers, nature-worshipers, and folks of the soil. Karen was a delightful combination of all three and our conversation with her was a hoot.

Eventually we managed to peel ourselves away from the lamas and started on the last leg of the century into town. What should have been a 30 minute ride wound up being at least double, maybe more, thanks to the 35mph headwind that blew perfectly in our faces. Working my way to the front I volunteered to pull for the folks I was riding with. With Alyson, Jen, and Kristen at my tail I used my...prodigious girth...to block the wind and keep us all rolling at a steady pace. To keep myself sane I started belting any song I could think of that occurred to sing. It was a feat of strength. Breathless and roughed up from a long day on the road, I sang at the top of my lungs in defiance of the elements and their rage. I was traveling just fast enough to get about one song in per mile. Right as my repertoire of My Morning Jacket tunes was getting exhausted we finally arrived into Pinedale and I, caked in a thick layer of mud and boiling with testosterone, threw my gear to the side, rushed through my shower, climbed into my sleeping bag, and immediately powered down. I only woke up when I was kicked awake to come grab a plate of dinner, and ate like a viking. The rest of the evening was spent reading and participating in a head-scratching train. 'Twas good.

Being on team breakfast, from a chore group standpoint, is usually stupid-easy. After you wake up you roll into the kitchen and pull cereal and fruit out of boxes. Afterwords you do a few dishes and then leave the rest of the clean-up for trailer crew. The only people who have it easier in the mornings are team dinner, who literally have to do *nothing*.

Jesse and I made history, though. We were the first, possibly ever, to actually break a sweat doing work for breakfast crew. Our host was kind enough to leave us with the raw ingedients for a Breakfast of Champions: Bacon, eggs, pancakes, coffee, all awesome. The problem was they didn't line anyone up to actually cook all this food. This became the job for jesse and me. So we woke up early (about thirty minutes), rolled up our sleeves, mae breakfast for 31 people, and all the while cracked our usual jokes. 'Twas good.

From Pinedale we rolled to Jackson Hole, where we were to enjoy yet another day off. In between these two towns was, in my humble opinion, the most beautiful scenery of the entire trip. As we weaved through Teton Court, we enjoyed the mountains at their loveliest. Goldenrod scattered along the rolling foothills. The mountains towering overhead like fattened sky-scrapers, with bare patches of brilliant orange sandstone punching its way out. Evergreens further up the sides. Birds circling overhead. The Snake River, green as the trees themselves, bubbling along the side. It. Was. Gorgeous. And every color of the rainbow at some point fund its way into the frame.

The ride even had the promise of being a cake-walk, since we were following the Snake down into Jackson Hole. We did not, however, anticipate the headwinds. Headwinds so brutal, in fact, that, even on the steep declines, we were forced to hammer, in our lowest gear, to keep moving at a pace of 3, maybe 4 miles an hour. It was a tremendous tease. So much delicious downhill and it was as if we were biking upstream through the river instead of downstream and along its side. It punished us and wore away at our psyches. Many of us allowed ourselves to work out an outburst, myself included. We yelled at the wind itself.

I asked it who it thought it was. I asked it who it thought I was. I told it I was Will Paradis, and that I didn't climb over the Appalachians, ascend Trail Ridge Road, do two centuries and camp in the cold desert to throw in the towel over some egomaniacal breeze. It didn't seemed impressed and continued to wail. So I continued to pedal. We all did. And, eventually, we won out, and it only made the fact that we had a day off to look forward to all the more sweet.

And oh man, our hosts in Jackson Hole! So. Awesome.

So three summers ago this lovely elderly couple, the Amblers, heard about Bike and Build through their church's news bulletin and out of the blue called up he leaders and offered them a place to stay. Three summers later, they're still in the habit of hosting a horde of 30+ cyclists over the summer for reasons which escape my reasoning and understanding. Jim and Emily are great, and their house is beautiful. Specifically their back yard, which is edged up right against state conservation property, meaning it will never ever be developed on. In the foreground we could watch the wild horses roam this field. In the middle ground, a highway displayed the people passing through Jackson Hole but, being just far enough away, we were relieved of the noise of the highway and left only to enjoy the sights. In the background was a perfect, perfect, PERFECT view of Grand Teton peak, looming over the valley like a watchful guardian. I spent at least 90% of my day off on the Ambler's back porch sipping coffee, reading John Steinbeck, and just soaking in that view. At night we laid out in the backyard and admired the stars. Sprinkled in between during my stay I would have conversations with Jim in which we would celebrate life, the West, and the future. It was restorative from my bones to my soul.

And then today, hopping back on the bikes, we hit another major milestone. We climbed. Teton. Pass. Easily our steepest climb, and nothing to sneeze at from the standpoint of length, the Teton Pass was a test for all of us. We climbed at an average gradient of 10%, which is, to be blunt, a lot. But we proved ourselves.

I really wanted to push myself and this was the perfect chance, and so I committed. I promised myself that, no matter how hard the climb got, I would not stop until I reached the peak. No breaks, no snacks, just the steady rhythm of a climber. During Trail Ridge I proved I was physically capable of conquering a mountain. It was time to move into the far more difficult test, that of the psyche. It was literally me vs. me, and as I struggled up the mountain I could feel my brain splitting in half with one half shouting "STOP" and the other urging me to keep going, to imagine the feeling I would have upon reaching the top, to appreciate the challenge and to prove myself. There were moments when my legs felt like jelly and my lungs felt like they were on fire, but every time I felt like stopping, I looked back, saw how much I'd already climbed, and told myself if I could do that I could do the rest. One pedal at a time. One foot in front of the other. One two three four. Inch by inch.

Finally reaching the top was a million times more satisfying than I'd even manged to convince myself. On the last leg, with the wind whipping and the van blaring music, I pumped up to meet the group of bikers who had made it up before me, each shouting my name, each urging me to finish strong. I was hurting but I was still grinning from ear to ear when I rolled under the tunnel of arms made by my team members. I had made it. I hopped off my bike, took a breather, soaked in the moment and then joined in the fun as we celebrated each team member making it to the top. When we were all there Sarah switched the iPod over to the Killers' "All These Things I've Done", BNB's unofficial themesong, and we raved like maniacs, bouncing to the beat and screaming "I'VE GOT SOUL BUT I'M NOT A SOLDIER" in unison for the whole world to hear. We got several pictures and videos of us dancing and finished with our strongest haka yet. If it was any sort of prelude to Cannon Beach things are gonna get ridiculous. I love my team. So. Much.

The rest of the day was a cake walk, almost as if the route itself was celebrating our accomplishments. We crossed the state line into Idaho and then invaded a soda fountain in Victor which has acheived a world-renowned reputation for its huckleberry milkshakes. We pounded those back and proceeded along the plateau, enjoying delicious, windless flat for the rest of the day.

And now we're in Idaho Falls! We have a Build Day tomorrow and we're staying in a super swank church. I've staked out a couch for sleep tonight, and our hosts have been incredibly sweet to us. These days I'm riding as much of a Bike & Build high as ever. It's gonna be great to do some volunteering tomorrow and it's gonna be great to see how the rest of this trip plays out.

PS, my first meal in Idaho? A baked potato. Go figure. Turns out some stereotypes are true.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Day 53: Rock Springs, Wyoming: "A Small Town With Long Roads"

The time since Vernal has been filled with two days of hard, hard biking. When we're not rolling across the harsh desert, we're climbing some epic mountains. Sometimes we do both at once. But hey, it's cool 'cause we're Bike & Build.

From Vernal we finally took that turn and started proceeding North, North towards the line with Oregon and our eventual destiny. The ride was 37 miles, which may *sound* like a joke in comparison with some of the other rides we've done on this trip, but it was no picnic.

Flaming Gorge, as it turns out, is surrounded on all sides by sheer walls of red sandstone mountains. They are nothing short of stunning, particularly in the morning when the sky is still gold and the sun hits on them, making them look like they really are on fire. Ten miles out of Vernal we hit our first of these mountains. Our mission was simple: climb the 5 miles of 8 to 10% gradient to the top. The way the climb was set up allowed for us to break this down into psychologically manageable chunks. 10 swithbacks along the mountain edge acted like steps, as if we were climbing a giant stair case, and every time I turned around to look at the valley below me I was exponentially blown away by the view. They just don't make nature like this back East. The humungous burnt-red mountains lounge along the desert plain like sleeping giants, and in one eyeful it's easy to see sand, snow, red stone, green plants, and bright blue sky. Imagine, if you will, biking along the edge of a Martian canyon. "Other-worldly" is truly the word.

So I spent my morning out of Vernal on that epic climb feeling beaten and broken but thrilled with life when I reached the top, which was a whole other world to itself of lush green-grassy peaks on either side of me and high-top fields of wind-whipped and sun-bleached trees. That afternoon we worked our way across the highlands and, with the hard part of the day's ride behind us, found ourselves at our campsite around noon or so.

Camping in Flaming Gorge was a bit of a let down because we were still a good 5 or 6 miles from the actual gorge and couldn't spend the afternoon exploring it. That's kind of been the team's luck with Utah in general. The best analogy for Utah is like that pretty girl who seems really awesome but just doesn't give you the time of day. You're just kind of left admiring everything from a far! There was Flaming Gorge Lake! Just down the mountain! It was right there! So close, and yet so far.

So we found other ways to kill time. The guys timed eachother at the showers to see who was fastest, and I one by a solid 2 minutes. I can assure you I smell just as good as the next guy on this trip, I just don't dilly-dally. Man showers. Thank you Camp Carolina. After that man shower I celebrated with a four hour nap in the tent.

By the time I woke up the rest of my tent had been up and at it for hours. I was sharing a tent with basically all the tiny women on the team, by the way, because we devised a perfect system. They all pck in like sardines at the back vertically, and I lay horizontally at the front door to act as a windshield/bear guard. It means that during the night no one is really at risk of getting stepped on, and it means I don't have to wake up with frost on my pillow in the mornings. Everyone's a winner!

So they were all awake and reading the headlines from a Time magazine, which was great because we really are in a very protective mobile bubble on this trip. Incidentally, I'm sure this goes without saying but the Gulf Oil Spill depresses me to no end and I just wish it could be fixed.

Then there was dinner, then after dinner a fire and a Town Hall Meeting where, following tradition, we talked about our highs and lows, read Warm Fuzzies to each other, and ended with a group hug. I love my team.

Several of us stuck around the fire afterwards and conversation drifted to hilarious stories from our childhood, climaxing with Zach recounting the better stories from when he was 12 and had a Bad Influence/Best Friend named Trevor Bennett. We all loved that name. Can't you imagine our mother warning you to "stay away from that Trevor Bennett"? It's perfect!

People started drifting off to bed, but my four hour nap let me feeling quite alert at 11, so I stayed up a little later and did some star-gazing with Kristen again. Granby was fantastic, so when I say that the stars that night were ten times better I want you to appreciate the full meaning of those words. I saw the entire band of the Milky Way, from one side of the horizon to the other, totally unbroken, and it left the both of us simply awestruck. The constellations jumped out at us, and it became all too apparent to me in that moment why humans practically worshiped the stars in ancient times. Out there, without pollution or city lights, they literally commanded your attention and seemed filled with ancient truth and beauty.

So we stayed out there, talking about everything and nothing and admiring the stars until it became too difficult to keep our eyes open. By the time I made it back to the tent all the girls were sound asleep and filling the night air with a chorus of congested snoring. The night never got terribly cold, and sleep was delightful.

The morning I woke up to Sharif's speakers and the girls discussing things very unbecoming of ladies. I have to say it's gonna be weird going back to "real life" and not being around people who constantly discuss their most private of bodily functions, discomforts, and the like. Really there is no boundary this team hasn't violated right now. You can't take us anywhere.

So we packed and dressed and ate and started the ride with a brilliant roll down into the gorge. The gradient was very steep and I effortlessly flirted with 40mph as the tree line gave way to a stunning view of the lake and the enormous pile of bright red sandstone from which the gorge derives its name. We crossed over the Flaming Gorge Dam and stopped along the edge to hang over the side, easily 200 feet tall, and soak in the scope of our surroundings. We had just enough time to "ooh" and "aw" before a policeman rolled up and whisked us along.

Working through the sandstone canyons with relative ease we found ourselves crossing our next state line into Wyoming! And what incredibly beautiful country it is! It started with another climb, and my goal for today, in the interest of continuing to push myself over this summer, was to climb the entire mountain without taking a break. I could go at whatever pace I desired, but I couldn't stop.

This goal seemed all the more daunting once I actually saw the mountain we intended to climb. In most cases the tree line manages to keep us guessing but after we rounded the corner and saw the mountain our view of the road was unbroken. Working up the side, I could see trucks as far as 10 miles away, humming along up the side. But, as I've said before, the thing abut Bike & Build is that there's only one route to take. Instead of figuring out a way around the challenges, you have to learn how to deal, and it makes the end result all the more rewarding.

So I dug deep, enjoyed my last minute of coasting, and started to climb. At first it was hard to work out of the mindset that I could stop when I wanted. Everytime I wanted to stop I just gave one more push. Four pushes with the right, four with the left, four pulls with the right, four with the left. Repeat forever. It seemed unending, but about half-way up I smashed through the wall. Today I discovered my true biking rhythm, and when I did, the climb became a breeze. I don't know how to describe it. It's like pedaling became as involuntary as breathing or letting my heart beat, just something my body would do. I entered a state of Zen never before experienced on the bike, in which, with my rhythm unbroken, I could completely live in the moment and appreciate the incredible scenery opening up around me as a ascended out of that mountain valley. Soon enough I was cresting. I passed a community college class with a professor giving a lecture on rock formations and layers, but felt it would be impolite to barge in. Also, as it turns out, lunch was literally 300 feet past that lecture. But I made it! Without breaking! Even the experienced cyclists said it was a tough climb, but for me it was just exhilerating! I found my rhythm, and that made today a great day!

Even after lunch when we were working through a 30mph direct headwind, the discovery of my Rhythm allowed me to blast through the wind like I never have before, and I was comfortably riding with the semi-fast people, which is a huge step for me. And as for the view around me? Stunning. That climb led us on a run right through the heart of a mesa top. In the foreground on every side were rolling fields of green pasture, not unlike Western Kansas, but instead of simply carrying on they dropped in the middle ground to reveal ancient canyons and in the background rose the sisters of our own mesa. At that elevation we mingled with the shadows of the clouds and, with the wind whipping around us and the sun beating down over this canyon-network of indescribable scope, it was exactly what I imagined Valhalla to look like. Every field, every valley, every mountain pulsated with an ancient and wild power. Truly it was a place where the gods mingled with the mortals, and, in the spirit of battle, we pushed against those winds until they finally gave way.

Right before our descent we all stopped at an overlook to admire one canyon of particularly vibrant color and massive scope. I have never been to the Grand Canyon, and I don't know how this one compared, but it was still enough to take my breath away. We all sat, quiet, reflecting on the ride. Did I mention we got here from the Atlantic Ocean on bikes? You know. It's what we do, apparently.

The descent led us into true desert. Oppressively hot and dry, bright, bleached, quiet in a beautiful barren sort of way, with huge canyon walls on other side of us. Then, for the first time in two long days, we started seeing the signs of civilization. The ride into Rock Springs was...confusing, which was surprising considering the size of the town, but we made it and I excitedly recovered with a Big Mac and a quart of chocolate milk. Then a nap, of course.

The host we're staying with tonight is a new one, and with that being said, they already know exactly how to treat us weary travelers. We enjoyed the first meal we didn't have to prepare for ourselves in 9 days, and feasted excitedly. Later I had the privilege of speaking with a woman named Donna who talked exactly like I imagined the spirit of the West would. Frank, lively, and with a heaping helping of hospitality and adventure. She had lived in Wyoming all her life, growing up on a ranch, and happily told us what we could look forward to from her home state. We thanked her for her hospitality and she explained that it was just the way people lived out here. The barrenness and lack of civilization has made Wyomingans (if they're called that) learn to rely on each other. Out here it's just a necessity as a traveler. You roll along the desert all day and take whatever bed and food you can get from strangers. People have counted on each other out here for centuries, and it's amazing to see it resonate so soundly to this day.

And now if you'll excuse me I'm going to head upstairs. Donna and her husband were kind enough to leave us with a mountain of snacks and the pastor has set up the projector with Harry Potter playing for us. I love people. I love the West. And tomorrow I can look forward to seeing more of it and falling deeper in love.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Day 51: Vernal, Utah: "Cowboys and Dinosaurs"

Our day off in Steamboat Springs gave me a chance to catch up on some work and give myself a little peace of mind, which has been very handy for the last few days. After the last blog entry I stocked up on some bike stuff, namely tires and degreaser, and simultaneously admired the Orange Peel, the local bike shop, a modest establishment in a wild teepee-shaped building. After that I got a grip on my things and sent a handful of items home in the post to make room in my bag. It was tough. A few of the women-folk were on hand to make sure I was thorough, and when I couldn't bare to part with something they were unforgiving in their insistence. It's allowed me to have to worry about less Stuff, which is awesome, since a reason I wanted to do Bike & Build in the first place was to get over my pack-rat tendencies and learn how to live a simpler lifestyle.

I can only be responsible for so long, though. After I made my trip to the post-office the team had dinner and the real day off finally began with a trip to Steamboat's fabled Strawberry Hot Springs, famous for their luxurious swimming pools and "clothing-optional" policy after dark. Several of us hopped in the van and Sharif ferried us over the mountains. One thing that I found remarkable of Strawberry Hot Springs was how secluded it was. The roads leading to it were poorly paved at best, and took a good 20 to 30 minutes to traverse. We listened to Beatles songs as we admired the afternoon turning to dusk along the edge of the aspen-covered mountains. A truly beautiful, little-disturbed piece of nature. When we finally arrived at the Hot Springs we were greeted by a manager who, based on the delivery of the spiel he gave us, had been working there for at least four decades. After being warned to not sneak in bottles, or leave our stuff unattended for college students to steal, we frolicked down to the waters.

At Strawberry the Hot Springs meet up with a cold stream of melt water. These pools mingle to provide a wide selection of temperatures ranging from boiling hot to freezing cold. It was a facility that rewarded exploration and experimentation. The pools themselves were fit from local stones, and the water, fresh from the stream, was dark green from the sulpher and other minerals. Lining up on an especially cozy piece of stone wall, I threw my arms over the side, kicked my head back, and let the water work its magic. I calem my mind, reflected on the trip, and allowed myself, after a day of errands, to let the day off catch up with me. We mingled and played in the pools well into the sunset, and several of us got a kick from alternating between the hottest pool and the coldest. I've been told this method gets the most blood pumping to your muscles and helps clear the toxins out of your body. However it worked, I felt pure, refreshed, and invigorated, my muscles totally cleansed after 2000+ miles of hard work.

Lo and behold just around sunset the clothing-optional policy came into effect. A man who was easily 60 years old came running from the edge of the pools, naked as a jay-bird, and cannon-balled into the warmest one. Not so much out of prudeness but out of readiness to sleep a handful of the team strolled back to the van for the journey back to our church. Sidenote: Fleet Foxes is pretty much the ideal music for driving through a forest at night. The echoes and harmonies add to the eeriness of the scenery in a very beautiful way.

I crashed on the couch I claimed at the beginning of our stay in Steamboat and fell asleep listening to a mix on my iPod. Sleep was absolutely grand. In fact, perhaps too grand, because I found myself pulled right out of REM sleep the next morning and couldn't have felt groggier if I tried.

Since the previous day had been spent being responsible I was pretty much the first person ready to roll out of Steamboat and on to Maybell. I hopped on a gravy train with Jen, Kathryn and Heather but wound up being to antsy to ride at their speed. Fortunately, the Fast People came right by as this thought occurred to me, and I excitedly latched on to them, making a game out of keeping up with them.

The thing about it is if I wasn't much of a cyclist before, I am out of sheer necessity, and it's becoming more rewarding to push myself. I've grown a lot on this trip for sure, but I fear becoming complacent. As soon as I do, it means I've stopped growing, which means I find myself often these days proactively pushing myself out of my comfort zone.That morning I did my best to keep up with the Fasties, and did a good job with it for the most part. Something that really blows me away concerning Mark's technique is the fact that he in fact *speeds up* when he hits hills. Instead of kicking back he makes an effort to climb as fast as possible, which took the breath out of me to say the least. I lasted for about 20 miles with them before I felt the need to stretch, so I stopped to do that and just hopped on with the next train to roll through, which was still traveling at a healthy pace and full of folks that I don't ride with often.

We hit up lunch in a ghost town and I removed my base layers, now that we were getting out of the mountains and the sun was finally starting to warm up the land. The afternoon, from the standpoint of scenery, was much the same. It was obvious that we were on the other side of the Colorado Rockies at this stage, and it was starting to look a lot more like Western Kansas, with its rolling green pastures and big sky. About 4 miles outside of Maybell Raleigh and Andy flagged a few more of us down for a swim in the Yampa River and, warm as it was at that time, we happily obliged. So we played in the mountain water, skipping stones, splashing around, cracking jokes, and marveling at the fact that anything, let alone crabs, could live in those cold Yampa waters.

Crossing that river really did radically change the scenery almost instantly as well. Out of no where, we were in a Sergio Leone film, and Jen and I rode together to Maybell, fantasizing about all the Western cliches we might be lucky enough to come across. We hoped for a shoot-out, an Indian raid, or at least a saloon.

That night we made our home in the town of Maybell, population 70. It featured a Sinclair station, which we hit up for Gatorade, and a modest diner called Lou's, where a sweet old waitress served me the most epic post-ride meal ever: a local, grass-fed rib eye, fries, texas toast, and a root beer float. Afterwards we meandered to our campsite and I slept for 2 hours in the sun.

I was only woken abruptly later on to the talk of rain possibly coming in. Seeing that everyone's stuff was strewn about the campsite, and that everyone was off doing their own thing, and that there was in fact an omninous looking cloud rolling in from the West, I sprang up and got to work securing the camp for the down pour. Joe and I tried to make a lean-to for the team coking dinner. It last all of 5 minutes due to the duct tape failing under the immense power of the desert wind, but it was worth a try. Instead we threw as many things, and then as much of Dinner Crew, into the trailer as possible and then used the tarps to cover the bikes. At this stage the wind was getting wild, and it took 5 of us just to hold the tarp down over the bikes long enough to bungee it to the trees, fence, rocks, playground equipment, and bikes themselves.

We all migrated over to the bathrooms to take shelter from the wind and cold, and the team did, in fact, eat all of dinner in the women's room of this campsite. Dinner was laid out in pots over the sinks and, all lined up with plates in hand, we worked past the stalls and filled up on hearty bowls of Leftover Stew, which was a serious adventure in itself. Dinner Crew, in an effort to clear the coolers, had basically poured everything canned into one pot. There were peas, carrots, corn, potatoes, noodles, onions, peppers, and chicken breast to name only a handful of the ingredients. Derrick insisted on adding in yellow and dijon mustard for flavor. It was certainly...different, but surprisingly good. Really at this stage we're pleased to get any calories we can. We all ate our fill under the bathroom awning. A park ranger came by and told us it rarely ever rains in the desert. Just our luck.

After the rain cleared and we had our fill we all climbed in our tents at hit the hay. We all expected a cold night and a long day today, and really, there was nothing that excited us all more than the idea of sleep.

I did in fact sleep in a tent this time and, while I'm partially disappointed in myself for not braving the elements, I must admit that I slept like a baby in relation to Kremmling. Things like a dry floor and human body heat do wonders for my sleep cycle. It made getting out of bed this morning almost impossible, but it's what we do. I have to move with the current.

this morning we hopped out of bed at 5am. Well, I say that, but it took a good 15 minutes of playing "just one more minute" with my brain before I finally hopped out to face the day. We dressed in the heated bathrooms, had cold bagels and peanut butter for breakfast, and were ready to bounce by 7.

Today was a long day at 91 miles, but it wa *stunningly* beautiful. The area along the Utah-Colorado border is literally exactly like the backdrop of a Clint Eastwood movie, and I soaked in the sights and sounds of the desert, which is rare for me indeed. Back East I'm used to everything in the summer being a very lush green, which is beautiful in its own right, but the gradient of colors out here is spectacular. The soil, mostly sand, is a deep golden hue, and it peers out of the fields and hills from among the thickets of desert shrubs, which range from a deep blue-green to purple when their leaves have dried away. Off in the distance, seemingly no matter where you are, are stunning mountain ridges, their layers exposed to the elements and the history of the valley tucked away among the lines of gray and burnt orange. The ridges cut across a wide blue sky, filled with lazy clouds. The dryness leaves everything looking clean, almost bleached in color, and the quiet of it is probably exactly what made cowboys so stoic. I may or may not have whistled the Good, The Bad, and The Ugly theme a few times, as I soaked in the sights, riding solo, fantasizing about being the cowboy modern society would never let me be.

First lunch was right along the road, overlooking a vast desert plain which ended, abruptly, with a beautiful red ridge, standing in opposition like a wall, against what I'm uncertain. The scene was further enhanced by Sharif's selection of Rodrigo y Gabriela, a spanish guitar duo with immense talent. After I was satisfied with my meal I rode out alone, inspired by the music, wishing the rest of the team a safe journey and, as I rode out into the West, yipping and firing an imaginary gun into the air. Today was a great day to solo and I enjoyed it for an extended period of time. Eventually the cold started to wear off so I removed my layers, and was caught by Andy and Kristen, but I was ready for company at that stage. Kristen and I discussed "Ishmael", a book she and Jen insisted I start reading back in Steamboat. without giving to much away I will say that I've appreciated it deeply for its presentation, its frank criticism of civilization, and the author's earnest desire to enlighten readers and inspire people to save the world. It made for a good talk along the road at the very least.

Around this time we started seeing signs for the Dinosaur National Monument, which had been on the team's mind all morning. Apparently we are biking right through fossil central, and the surrounding towns ejoy banking on these finds. there is, in fact, a Dinosaur, Colorado right on the border and Jesse and I got great pictures of the mega-cheesy dino-sculptures in town, right of "Brontosaurus Boulevard" if I'm not mistaken. We stopped by the Dino-Monument information center and were crushed to learn that the park's museum was closed because it was, ironically enough, built on unsturdy Earth which eventually caused the entire building to collapse. Jesse, who had been dreaming of seeing this museum since the age of 3, was especially crushed, but we got good pictures.

Moving on we enjoyed lunch number 2 right at the border into Utah. Their state sign wins. It has an Allosaur imposed over the phrase "Welcome to Utah", and we have an amazing picture of Derrick riding the Allosaur wearing an American flag cape.

Crossing the border into Utah I noticed right away that it seemed devoid of color in relation to Colorado. the scenery was still stunning, but everything seems just more bright and white out here. Beautiful nonetheless, in that surreal Georgia O'Keefe sort of way. I definitely got a kick out of the dried-out giant rock formations jetting out of the sand like shark-fins.

And so we worked through the desert into Vernal, the self-titled "Dinosaur Capitol of the World". A 30-foot tall cartoonish pink brontosaur with moving eyes greets you as you roll into town, which is pretty great, and there were advertisements for the Dinosaur Rodeo all over town today, though sadly we were too exhausted and underprepared to check into it, and we've just enjoyed a quiet evening at the church.

It's late now and I should be asleep. We bike Flaming Gorge tomorrow! It's supposed to be very tough but very, very pretty. I'm excited as always. I'm just livin' the dream out here.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Day 49: Steamboat Springs, Colorado: "Boundaires of Life"

A lot of life has been lived between Boulder and Steamboat Springs, dear readers. We've cut through the mighty Rockies and I'm a new man. There's much to discuss. I'm certain you'll understand if this entry is...immense.

Our morning out of Boulder marked a major milestone. Leaving the rolling fields of America's Heartland behind us, it was time to finally start climbing the Rockies, and roll across the ceiling of America. We were all naturally a little nervous. No matter how much prep work you do you're never going to be *entirely* ready to cross these mountains. But we were all very excited. The Flatirons, looming over our heads, would be made our playground by the day's end.

Aunt Kate and Uncle Dave were kind enough to not only wake up early to see me off, but prepared an AMAZING lunch for the entire team, to give us warrior's strength for the day ahead. Faces lit up with excitement at the idea that we would get a break from peanut butter to enjoy, among other things, turkey, roast beef, pesto, roasted vegetables, and ridiculously good bread. We loaded it all in the trailer, did our morning routine of bike-cleaning, cheering, and '80s dancing, and then hopped on the bikes before anyone had the time to think of what was about to happen. Jesse and I rolled out of town together and said our goodbyes to Boulder, the indomitable mountain of granola, and proceeded Westward and upward.

My first great surprise of the day was seeing Kate and Dave one more time. They had parked the van right at the foot of the mountain to wish one final round of good luck. Hugs were exchanged and I left them with a little bit of my sweat as a memento. I then kicked Fritzelicious into gear and began the climb, undoubtedly looking a little wild and crazy, hooting and hollering as I hammered up the hill.

Three and a half states of Flat had made my legs grow complacent. To my muscles mountain climbing was some antiquated concern from ages past. And then out of nowhere we cut into the Rockies?! They were more than a little...upset. I kept going, though, breaking when I needed to and focusing on working one muscle group at a time: push with the right, push with the left, pull with the right, pull with the left.

By mile 10 I was already exhausted, but the view was nothing short of absolutely breathtaking as we climbed. The morning sun reflected off the red sandstone to fill the entire countryside with a warm orange glow. The scent of pine was in the air. Canyon-like walls of carved rock jetted up on wither side. Flowers of blue and yellow were strewn along the roadside. I soaked in the fresh air and admire how close I was to the clouds. Tired, but reminded in an instant of what makes a good climb so rewarding.

And it was like that for the next 10 miles or so. I slowly but surely pushed up, passing the occasional mountain town and enjoying the scenery. I was alone most of that morning, and enjoyed the solitude and quiet splendor of these mighty mighty mountains. And I knew this was only the beginning, the "footmountains", if one will allow. I was just cutting in and already mesmerized.

Right before the top of the second climb which would put us on Peak to Peak Road I stopped and saw a woman on the side of the road with her bike flipped over. I asked if she needed help and as it turns out she needed a lot. Turns out her tire was flat and she had no idea how to change her tube. Turns out I was more than qualified to help with that.

Oh how the tables have turned.

A mere 50 feet afterwards I was on Peak to Peak. The road flattened out and I felt great about life as I coasted for the first time in about 2 hours. Just around the corner was lunch and I went to town on the spread that Kate and Dave made for us. Two sandwiches, both impressive in their own right, along with fresh cantelope, hard-boiled eggs, and some Gatorade to wash it all down. Those of us at the lunch stop gushed over the meal and the scenery. We were really earning it all that day.

From lunch the ride was much easier. Peak to Peak is an awesome road, featuring just about every iconic image of Colorado you can imagine. Huge red rock walls, colorful flowers, eagles overhead, sun-soaked valleys off to the side and, off in the distance, the first of the serious mountains, where the peaks are bare and covered in a permanent blanket of snow.

Rolling through a town along the road we saw another group of college-aged bikers and naturally stopped to see what the deal was. As it turns out there's another cross-country biking NPO, 4K for Cancer, and one of their routes was to overlap with ours for the next few days. I rode for a while with an older member of their team named Abhishek, who studied economics at Johns Hopkins and was going to start his first classes as a fledgling professor in the fall. We swapped stories and information about our programs and routes, and it was fascinating to hear about another group of go-getter college kids biking around the country to do some good. It was also wild imagining how different and similar thigns would be if, say, I'd discovered 4K instead of Bike & Build. And of course that got me thinking about fate. But I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit.

The ride along Peak to Peak ended in the most fun descent of the entire trip; about 5 miles of totally unbroken downhill, leading into Estes Park, the town we'd settle in for the night. Rolling out of the mountains and into that valley I was, for like the hundredth time that day, feeling great about life, soaring down that mountain and allowing the view of the mountains west of Estes Park to take my breath away. Still riding solo, I rolled to our host sight, which was about 3 miles away from the actual town.

I didn't know what to make of Eagle Rock school at first. For starters, our hosts told us that once we actually arrived on campus, we were not to leave the gym we were sleeping in. The ride in itself also had this feeling of seclusion and isolation. Their driveway alone was a good mile and a half, over foothill and along a ridge which overlooked a stunning desert valley and, of course, Eagle's Rock itself, a majestic pillar of sandstone which seemed to stand in the sunlight almost in defiance against the elements and their erosive forces. When I finally caught my first glimpses of the school things started making more sense. There were buildings which were obviously intended to be dorms, though they were much cozier-looking than the word "dorm" implies. In the gym where we were to stay was a very impressive rock-wall, several colorful murals, and, my personal favorite part, a wall of tiles which, from what I could tell, was a sort of graduation board. Each individual student painted/decorated their own tile and it was placed into the wall, creating a mosaic of hopes and dreams, as it were. I started picking up good vibrations from the place, and, as an aspiring teacher, I hoped to learn more when we met our hosts at dinner.

The teacher who ate with us, Ryan, didn't disappoint in the least. He was a friendly-looking twenty something with a pony tail, chacos, and a Bon Iver shirt, i.e., someone I could easily get along with. When we started asking questions about the school Ryan opened up and explained Eagle Rock to us, and it's all kinds of good. As it turns out the school is funded by Honda (yes, the car company), and their mission is to provide a free, high-quality education for engaged-but-troubled students. The students there have fantastic potential but for whatever reason, be it financial, psychological, behavioral, etc., they are unable to get a sufficient high school education where they live. Many of them are held back or drop out, and Eagle Rock makes it their mission to help them finish with a high school degree. Many go off to college, and all are put through a curriculum which stresses developing the students as good citizens. There are traditional classes taught alongside a service learning curriculum, as well as any random class a teacher might want to give. For example, Ryan teaches a class on gardening.

So, to sum it up, small, engaged community. Alternative curriculum with a stress on service and citizenship. Offered for free to students in need. And it's in Colorado.

You might be thinking "Will, this sounds perfect for you!" and you are not alone in this thinking. The entire team is convinced at this point that I was, on some level, meant to find Eagle Rock, and I'm excited enough to entertain this idea. I probed Ryan for information on their fellowship program and certainly plan to keep it on the radar. The future is so exciting!

There was much to think about that night but I knew sleep was important. That next day promised to be the most brutal of the entire trip. That day, however, wound up being one of the best of my very life. Gather round and I'll tell you the tale:

So I reluctantly rolled out of bed and stuffed my face full of leftover burritos and granola. The morning conversations were a mix of anxiety and excitement for the ride, and anticipation for the Prom which the team had been planning, which would be waiting for us on the other side. Knowing I needed something to look forward to and feeling the timing was perfect I snuck off, plucked a mountain flower, and busted out a poem I wrote in front of the whole group, asking Kristen, consistently recognized as the most adorable and nice girl on the team, to be my prom date.

Before I reprint my poem I want you to understand what I was competing with. The team went all out. Sharif wrote a giant note in chalk on our ride to St. Francis for Heather, complete with the "Check yes or no". Britt asked the team to sing "Sweet Caroline" to Caroline. Sarah got asked out right as we crossed into her home state. Noah picked a bouquet of flowers and left it next to Emily's bike. This was my competition, and so I knew if I was going to ask someone to prom, I'd have to make it good or just go stag. So I did some brain massaging. I sat down with my notebook, channeled the medal-winning writer Will Paradis of my highschool years, and produced this...

"You're attention please, Ms. Kristen Dyke,
Before you leave to ride your bike,
I have a very modest request
An my sincere hope is that you'll say yes.
As I'm sure you're well aware
The scent of Prom is in the air!
Tonight we'll dance and get our thrills
With outfits purchased from Good Will.
(Team laughed here)
And with the whole team in a fuss
It's sure to be ridiculous.
So, I know I'm asking late
But, to be blunt, I need a date.
(Team laughed here)
And you'd be a fine date, it's easy to see
You're fun and cute and super sweet,
And though it might seem like I'm rolling the dice,
You won't reject me because you're too nice.
(Big laugh from the team here)
So I know this poem's a little dumb,
But I'll make up for it by being fun
And so I ask, Ms. Kristen Dyke
Will you be my date tonight?"

Thunderous applause from the women-folk of the team. Derrick compared the move to something Michael Buble would do. Kristen happily said yes. It was great for the ego.

And then the ride. This was the gist of our ride to Granby: We would wake up at 5, pack up, roll out, and work into the Rocky Mountain National Park. We would then head west and follow Trail Ridge road, the highest continually paved road in the entire United States. Our climb would get steeper and steeper until it peaked at approximately 12,500 feet above sea-level, and we would then coast down the mountain into Granby. 70 miles, about 4500 feet of mountain to climb, and the weather report said the peaks were likely to have tempertures as low as 40 degrees.

Best believe I was terrified, and I woke up that morning with my head spinning. Was I gonna make it? It had the promise of being one of the hardest things I've done in my entire life. but the beauty of being on Bike and Build is that we have no time for hesitation. You wake up, you pack up, you eat and then you ride before you allow yourself the chance to call it quits. I knew I had to do it, and I knew that, no matter the outcome, I would be proud if I just tried my hardest.

The morning consisted of 20 miles of straight ascension. It was tough, but the ride was actually much easier than that to Estes Park. My muscles were beginning to remember how to climb. I was mingling with good friends and making pans with my prom date. And the scenery was stunning. It's definitely not just coincidence that the native Americans took such a liking to these mountains. They pulsate with the raw power and energy of the Earth, and all the colors, the yellow grass, the red and gray stone, the green trees and white snow, the blue sky, mingles in a way so beautiful that it borders on the surreal. With all this in consideration instead of feeling winded I felt invigorated, and worked my way up the trail ridge, past the snow line, up where the winds whipped. Soon enough we past a sign that marked us being 2 miles over sea level. We stopped, took pictures, and chatted it up with a park ranger named Don who bragged about having the most beautiful office in the country. I have to agree. We turned a corner and finally saw the peak, still about 2000 more feet of climbing. Up there the wind started beating down on us and, unfortunately, while Trail Ridge is supposed to be the highest continually paved road in America, it was under construction, so the roads were rough and the dust blasted in our faces. I was determined at this stage, though. I was 10500 feet above sea level, what was another 2000? I gritted my teeth, yelped and hollered, and pushed myself up as the Fourth of July traffic whizzed past me effortlessly. I biked past a herd of elk and admired them as the powerful animals they are. 300 feet from the top Sharif was dancing on the hill to the right of me, banging the team drum and yelping like a native American shaman. The breathtaking splendor of the distant peaks all around me kept my spirits high and, cresting that peak, finally, I felt a surge of accomplishment rarely experienced before.

I stopped and looked all around me, admiring the Rockies. They truly are one of the most awe-inspiring sights in nature, their scope, size and splendor radiating the power of the Earth itself. I reflected on this power, on the glory of these mountains, and then on the fact that I'd conquered one. I can't describe the transformative effect this has had on me. I've never felt so proud of myself in my life. With enough time and determination I can, in fact, move a mountain under my wheels. I am on the same level as these mighty giants. I am a mountain. A mountain man.

Dwelling on these thoughts I started the coast back down to Earth, and rolled into the lunch stop, about 500 feet below me, with so much emotional energy that all i could do was yell for about five minutes. I jumped off my bike, faced the peaks, and, despite the thin air, roared a mighty haka. We danced to the music from the van. The Killers, Sandstorm, "Take On Me", and a rendition of the Beatles "Let It Be" that reduced my to tears of pure joy. I had broken through a boundary, one placed there by my own mind, and one torn down by my very spirit. I was literally higher than the edge of life itself as it's known on our planet. I felt mighty.

And when I rolled down I belted Jimi Hendrix's "Voodoo Chile" as the wind whipped past me and I effortlessly flirted with forty mph

"Well I'm standin' next to a mountain
I'll chop it down with the edge of my hand"

Riding high on the day's accomplishments our night in Granby was nothing short of epic. Prom was one giant hilarious blur of tacky outfits, Gatorade, and giddiness. At one stage we all took the blinkers off of our bikes, went up on on the school stage, and all stepped behind the curtain where they stored all the gym mats during the summer. With our blinkers making a mind-numbing strobe effect the whole team bounced around the mats to Lady Gaga and Flo-rida. All of us were exhausted by midnight thanks to our biological clocks. The night ended with some slow-dancing to Bob Marley and then Kristen and I took our sleeping bags outside to admire the stars and celebrate the day. Truly a Day. One of the most challenging, rewarding, and memorable days of my entire life.

We all slept in 'til 11. Prom will take that our of you, for starters, but we also only had a 26 mile ride, our shortest of the entire trip. Jeff, my old counselor, joined up with us for the ride and brought his amazing mountable video camera to get shots of the ride and interviews from the team. The ride to Kremmling was all downhill. There was admittedly a nasty headwind but it was, pardon the pun, a breeze in relation to Trail Ridge.

And Kremmling, population 1200, is where we spent the Fourth of July. We camped (our first time on the entire trip) outside of town at a trailer park, where I met a 65 year old man named Tom who was actually also on a cross-country biking trip with his wife. I hope I'm that awesome when I'm 65. We strolled downtown at around 9 and the town put on a great fireworks show, shooting enough off the cliffs to the north of town to light up the entire town in a sea of colors. The tream played with sparklers, huddled in the cold, and as I watched the fireworks I realized I've never been more proud to be an American. I'm a witness to the generosity of these people, the stunning beauty of the countryside, and the amazing things people do here every day. So Happy Birthday, America.

After a quick stop at the gas station for late-night post-fireworks snacks we walked bak to the rv park and I, once again, camped out under the stars. There was frost on my pillow the next morning but I felt free, refreshed, and pleased with life in general.

Yesterday's ride across Rabbit Ears Trail was as beautiful as the rest of Colorado, and I surprised myself with how nonchalantly I climbed and descended that mountain, but it was only a 1000-foot climb or so. No big deal.

And today we're in Steamboat Springs, our base of operations of our second day off. I'll save all that we've done here so far for the next blog update. For now I'm going to knock back a cup of Joe and then go exploring. I've an insatiable appetite for adventure after all we've gotten up to, and it's time for a little R&R on my terms.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Day 44: Boulder, Colorado: "Century, Centennial"

Colorado! Whoa! I'm so excited to be out here and I have so so so so so much to report! I gotta start by finishing up my report of Kansas, though.

Our last day/night in Kansas was a really great one. Really. The ride from Oberlin to St. Francis was beautiful and made all the better by the fact that I was sweeps that day, so I was forced to take it slow and chill, and got to spend the whole morning discussing life with Christina. We made sure to stop for coffee and ice cream at every chance we got and told life stories. The ride itself was very cruisy with nary a headwind, and we made it to the Methodist church in St. Francis with plenty of time for a powerful nap.

The night in St. Francis was equally great, starting with the best spaghetti we've had on the whole trip. Period. It reminded me a lot of my grandma's recipe so I think it struck a chord with my inner child, but it was gooooood. The pastor was also very friendly and one of the members of the congregation brought her 5 year old daughter and 2 year old son, so naturally as soon as I was done eating I joined them in a rousing game of "run around the room screaming" while I acted like a dinosaur. I have loved my experience with BNB, as I hope is evidenced by this blog, but I've also been missing the chance to work with kids. I was a camp counselor for the last three summers prior to this trip, and I have to say it's been the most rewarding work in my life. Seeing those kids grow up has been a privilege, and I sincerely hope they're all doing well.

Anyways, I realize I promised an explanation in the last update as to the nature of the Brolympics. Right. Here goes. There are some serious bromances on this trip, i.e., friendships between the dudes on this trip that border on the creepy and inappropriate. Dave and Mark do raps together, Jesse and I constantly make Top 5 lists and throw obscure quotes in each other's direction, Andy and Jesse Young ride fast, Joe and Will have been best friends since their freshmen year of college, and Noah and Zach are our token cool west coast guys. The team, growing very aware of these budding bromances, naturally got to talking about which one was the best. Thus, the Brolympics were devised; a series of manly competition between bros spanning from now to the trip's end. The events we have lined up are nothing short of absurd. I can't wait to tell you about them, but I'll report them as they come out.

Our first event, in St. Francis, was a round of "Browling" at the Cheyenne Bowl, which was kind enough to offer the entire team free unlimited bowling. Working as teams the event's winner would be determined from the score. Jesse and I finished in a solid 5th place. It wasn't pretty, and it was doubly embarrassing when Jesse Y and Andy, showing up 2 hours late to the event, doubled our score in their first game. I'm not terribly concerned though. The summer is long, and there were many great moments. Zach and Noah dancing to Boston's "More Than A Feeling", for example, made the fact that they were killing us a complete non-issue.

Returning home I climbed into bed and spent most of the night tossing and turning for what was to come next. Colorado. At one point merely an idea, it was finally really coming. The Centennial State. The Rocky Mountains. The Hippies. The Best State In The Entire Union (with Kentucky being the best Commonwealth).

We jumped on our bikes the next morning all itching to leave Kansas behind and cross a state line. We put 20 miles behind us in know time and soon enough we were all stopping for pictures at the "Welcome to Colorful Colorado!" state sign. I was s giddy I hugged the sign and just kind of squealed for a few minutes. We took an inappropriate amount of pictures and then got back to humming.

Here's how perfect ths state is. Almost as if nature herself were rolling out the welcome wagon, we got our first tailwind in weeks. Without any effort we were blowing across the highway at 25 mph, laughing, living, and loving where we were. It was still just as flat as Kansas, but we could feel the very vibe in the air changing.

We spent that night in Anton, Colorado, population 40. Forty. Four-zero. Literally in the middle of no where. For real, it would've been borderline farcical were I not seeing it with my own eyes. The church was surrounded in all directions by Nothing. Eventually the fields just stopped and the sky started. It was quiet, but truly powerful in it's utter emptiness. I never knew that a place like that could actually exist.

The congregation was very sweet and I'm starting to learn something: The population of a town is inversely related to the size and quality of the free meal we get. Much like way back in Marlinton there was more food than could be fit inside my field of vision, and I chowed down on pork as I talked about the history of the land and the industry with some of the old farmers who ate with us. After dinner we all gathered outside to watch the sunset, which was truly breathtaking. There are a few pictures on facebook but they really don't do the scene justice: all of us lined out on the road, staring out to the West, not a worry in the world and nothing to enjoy but each other's company. It was the spirit of Bike & Build defined, and it's an image I'll carry in my heart for a long time.

We all opted to call it an early night to get good sleep for the ride into Denver the next day. That day and ride wound up being one of the most emotional of my entire life, and I'll now proceed to break it down for you.

It started with Bon Jovi. Sharif's iPod started blaring at 5am, and we all were pulled from our sweet sweet REM sleep. There was a brief moment in which you could feel the anxiety and fear in the room. That day would be our first 100+ mile ride, across harsh terrain. Motivation was slow to come for all of us, save for Mark, who immediately sprung out of his bag and yelled "Denver!!!" This immediately changed the entire Team's mood. We all sprung up and started singing "Half Way There" in our groggy voices, getting ourselves ready for the day an the task at hand.

After a modest breakfast we all went outside for our pre-ride route meeting, and were greeted by our leaders, who insisted we all lined up. From behind the van Sharif appeared, his unitard stretched over him like a toga, as some epic music, akin to the soundtrack of Braveheart, blared from the van speakers. Sharif read a speech full of cliches to get us pumped. By god if it didn't work. "100 is just a number, a number is just a limit, and perfection has no limitations!"

Jazzed and ready to ride out of Anton and into Cowtown I hopped on the road with Jen, Alyson and Jesse. We were immediately greeted by 5 miles of cold unforgiving headwind to get back onto the highway which would lead us to Denver. Our legs immediately had their work cut out for them, but we made it and enjoyed being in a simple 15-mph crosswind once we got back onto highway 36. The sky ws finally turning from orange to blue, and we were already pushing across the plains to glory.

That's when I got a flat.

I can't describe my frustration. This flat not only through me off what little groove I had, but it left me alone on our longest ride. Sweeps eventually shoed up, helped my replace the tube, and I managed to get to first lunch just before the bonking set in. Since I was next to last, I helped myself to all the food scraps, because I knew calories would be precious that day. Cold baked beans, potato chips, honey, pickles, candy, cereal, cookies, all of these fund their way into my stomach. I wanted warrior's strength. I wanted to ride like a champ into Denver.

I rolled out of lunch with confidence but this soon was blown away by the wind and the loneliness. I allowed the sinkin' thinkin' to sink in. I questioned whether I could really do what I was doing for 75 more miles. It was hot, I was thirsty, I was tired, I was working across an endless sea of rolling hills, I was breathing in the dust kicked up from the tractors, I had a horrendous headwind that refused to show me any mercy, and, worst of all, I was alone. I felt weak and scared and as powerless as I've ever felt on this trip. I only kept going because I knew I had to, but the reasons as to why i had to were fading fast. I toyed with the idea of giving up. I started getting mad at myself, at my circumstances, at the higher powers that be which led me out to that patch of windy hot dusty flat to fight alone.

Utterly alone. I was at my breaking point.

And then I saw the Rockies.

In an instant everything changed. I crested a hill which had been chalked with a giant arrow and the word "Look!" Over the horizon I finally saw a blue outline of the beautiful mountain line. To the north I saw snow and to the south I saw the blue fading into that majestic pewter gray. And I wept. I wept as I rolled down the other side of that hill because that was one of the greatest sights of my entire life. It was as if God had made good on a promise made long ago. It was tangible physical evidence that my effort and sacrifice meant something. It filled my heart with absolute joy to see those mountains, and it filled me with the intense desire to continue moving, to see what secrets and adventures they held and, eventually, what lay West of them. In an instant I was recharged. I rolled over those foothills with tears in my eyes and a smile in my heart. I reflected on how far I'd really come, and how far I will go. It was truly a special moment in my life, and the best part is that it could only be enjoyed at that level *because* I was riding by myself. It was a gift.

2 miles before second lunch I caught up with Jesse. He was in a bad way and was not interested in moving another inch. On the other hand, at this stage, I was overjoyed to share my enthusiasm with someone, and got him to move with me. We made it to lunch, refueled, and rededicated ourselves to the ride and to doing something we never thought we could do, over 100 miles in one day. That afternoon was filled with our usual report. We discussed best Disney movies, plans for Denver, and our hopes for the Bike & Build prom which is fast approaching.

Before we knew it we saw the Denver skyline. We rolled into the city and triumphantly pounded back icecream bars on the steps of our hosting church. Dinner with the congregation totally rejuvenated us, and that first night was spent with Bike & Build alums who lived in the city. The entire team was thrown a house party and we all celebrated accordingly. What had gone from one of the lowest points in my life ended in a night of unbridled celebration and excitement for Denver. Before bed we hit up a bar called Sputnik for Second dinner, and a beautiful waitress served me fries and green chili. Life was grand.

And it proceeded to get grander. The next day in Denver was *technically* a day off, but doubled up as a fundraiser for Bike & Build. The first of its kind. A woman named Donna Lynch, involved with the Colorado Affordable Housing Coalition, had organized a lunch and series of talks for us, hosted by Breckenridge Brewery in downtown Denver. This was followed by a ride around town on Denver's amazing public bicycles, in which we took tours of various Housing projects across town and soaked in the sights. Coorsfield, the bike trail along the Platte river, and a happy hour back at Breckenridge to finish up the day, in which I gorged myself on a free bottomless supply of buffalo wings.

The talks given by the guests at the fundraiser were incredible. A woman named Joanie, who was reduced to homelessness by her abusive ex-husband, gave an incredibly inspirational testament to the programs which helped her. A gentlemen named Chris Parr, director of Denver's affordable housing effort, gave a talk on the city's efforts which left me inspired, excited, and truly ensured that, not only is this a worthy cause to pedal for, but the right resources, people, and level of hard work can really pay off. I also had the privilege of eating with a woman named Sarah who served as a lobbyist for the affordable housing coalition. She was full of sass and passion. Her eyes had fire in them and she was so well spoken that I was, for once in my life, utterly silenced and simply engaged in listening. People can make a difference. I'm certain. It happens all the time. All it takes is hope and effort.

Dinner was immediatley followed by a trip to buy new bike things, with priority one being better tires, because I'm done catching flats right before I hit big cities. I traveled back across town by myself and did some people watching, reflecting on the future and how exciting it would be to call Colorado home one day.

Later that evening as I was doing repairs on my bike I had the pleasure of catching up with my friend and former camp counselor, Jeff. He's been really supportive of my efforts and, since he lives in Colorado, he wanted to visit and congratulate me in person. It was a treat. He wants to visit when we camp in Kremmling on the 4th and since this entry is already stupidly long I'll elaborate on him later.

So that was our time in Denver, and as if that wasn't good enough, next came Boulder. We rode a beautiful bike trail out of Cowtown and were all mutually stunned by the view of the Flatirons as we enjoyed an easy roll into Boulder. I immediately celbrated by hunting down a giant burrito with friends.

Later on I had the chance to meet up with my Aunt Kate, Uncle Dave, and cousin Jeanne, my exquisite Boulder family. They were kind enough to take me out on the town, which began first with an exploration of Pearl street and all that's good. If nothing else the performances all along the street were amazing. A woman named Hazel Miller, a local town favorite, sang gospel and soul and channeled Aretha Franklin. We soaked in the sound and I enjoyed my first live music in lord knows how long. We then hit up Rio, a restaurant with an amazing view of the Flatirons, and I scarfed down a bowl of green chile as I caught up on life with the fam.

Right as i was being dropped off the team started heading out to Pearl so I figured it was good enough to do twice and was certainly not disappointed. I saw a man break out of a straight jacket, saw another perform nothing short of miraculous magic with juggling balls, sat in on an acoustic performance of a few Beatles songs, and people watched in front of a 5-man drum-circle. Raleigh described Boulder as like a never-ending music festival with paved roads and buildings instead of tents and I must concur. There was even the iconic gorgeous hippie girl with a flashing neon hula hoop.Scientific fact: this town is filled with a dangerously high concentration of women who I would date without knowing anything about them. And next to her an old man in a tie dye shirt dancing with his walking stick. Next to him a father in dreadlocks playing with his daughter, named Evening Star. Boulder. Pure Boulder.

And that leads us to today, which was a fabulous Build Day with the Flatiron Habitat affiliate. We worked on a quadplex in the northside of town and I spent the day putting bracers on walls and rocking the nail gun. I worked alongside a man named Max, a charming Brazilian dude who kept apologizing for his English, which was a million times better than my Portuguese. The foreman, a man named Phil, gave a presentation that beautifully broke down Habitat and it's efforts. Like m lunch with Sarah, I could have listened to him speak for hours. He was engaging, excited, full of great information and answers, and made me believe in what I was doing. he also had a great voice, like a lion's, if it could speak.

I met up again with Uncle Dave afterwards. We explored Boulder along the public bike paths then went back to his home for a visit with everyone else, and a desperately needed shower for me. I hit the town with Kate, Dave, Jeanne and my cousin Matt and we, again, discussed life and all of the exciting things it has to offer. I was also treated to some remarkable sushi alongside the great conversation. Truly delicious. And their company out here is a true blessing. Seeing familiar faces utside the BNB bubble is a true treat, and it challenges me to remain aware of the goal I've commited myself to accomplishing. Much as I love Boulder, folks are counting on me to keep moving.

With that being said it is way past bedtime. Tomorrow we begin working our wa into the mountains. It will test my metal, and it probably won't be terribly pretty, but I'm ready to jump in with both feet.

Go Colorado.