Homeward Bound

This might be useful for someone who recently moved to the Takoma Park/College Park area.

Proteus Bicycles. 9217 Baltimore Blvd. College Park, MD 20740. www.proteusbicycles.com A nice hometown bike shop. Interested in promoting small brands. Quite friendly and social, though I haven’t checked out a Thursday-night pot-luck dinner yet. Even so, you can end up wiling away the afternoon looking for a replacement chain ring. The only real problem is getting there on a bike, especially if you live west of Route 1.

College Park Bicycles. 4360 Knox Rd College Park, MD 20740. www.bike123.com If you’re into bike messenger chic with attitude, this is the place for you. I used to feel obligated to patronize this place in order to support the local business, despite the charming attitude of the workers. But things finally reached a breaking point when, after struggling for the attention of a cashier, I was overcharged a whole freakin’ dollar for a replacement tube.

REI. 9801 Rhode Island Ave (Hollywood Plaza) College Park , MD 20740. www.rei.com/stores/27 Compared to the grunge on Route 1, this place feels kind of like shopping with your successful yuppie older brother. You get more attention than at Walmart, but it’s not quite as cheap either.

The Bicycle Place 8313 Grubb Rd, Silver Spring, MD. http://www.thebicycleplace.com Conveniently located along the Georgetown Branch Trail / pseudo Capital Crescent extension-to-be – if the Purple Line doesn’t get it first! Ha ha ha ha ha!

05-05 Convalescing in Coalinga (San Francisco to Coalinga, CA)
05-12 The Great Escape (Coalinga, CA to Ely, NV)
05-14 Utopian Utah (Ely, NV to Milford, UT)
05-18 Sunshine and bumpy roads (Milford to Moab, UT)
05-23 Rocky mountain (hot and) high (Moab, UT to Boulder, CO)
05-28 The Long Road to Infinity (Boulder, CO to Omaha, NE)
06-02 A singular nonsingularty (Omaha, NE to Anamosa, IA)
06-05 The heart of the heartland (Anamosa, IA to Chicago, IL)
06-08 Swimming (Chicago, IL to Indian Lake, OH)
06-13 Something smells familiar… (Indian Lake, OH to Chambersburg, PA)
06-16 Splashdown! (Chambersburg, PA to Rehoboth Beach, DE)

Alexandria, VA. Whew! Crashed into Rehoboth Beach at about 5 pm yesterday. Quarantined in Alexandria for a few days before being released into what they call the real world.

Monday (6/13). (Breezewood to Gettysburg, PA, 77.9 miles). Silly me, blew off the early afternoon diddling around on the internet, while the humidity built up into scary storm clouds. Started pouring about 10 minutes after I left Chambersburg. Hid out in the awning of an evangelical chruch til the rain slowed. Within a few more miles and without much of a climb, I crossed the Appalachian Trail (appropriate that it was drizzling, since my memories of hiking it often involve rain). Had to keep Hulk from charging off into the woods. Descended down into Gettysburg, town of many, many military monuments. Hung out a bit with Abraham Lincoln. It was getting late, so I stopped at Little Round Top, the cheapest of the outrageously expensive campgrounds in town (most expensive: 37 bucks! I got away for a mere 18).

Tuesday (6/14). (Gettysburg, PA to Elk Neck, MD, 118.2 miles). Guess what? It was really hot and steamy again. Gentle ride through farmland to Hanover, home of the Utz snack factory. Celebrated with the purchase of potato chips. Then off into surprisingly rugged terain in the southeast corner of PA. Farms still, but also some nice tree-lined roads. Somwhat dramatic descent to the Susquehana River, which was surprisingly rocky and gnarly, even close to where it forms the head of Chesapeake Bay. Didn’t realize that they were so widespread, but I still had to keep an eye out for those danged Amish crossing the road. Turned south and things started getting gentle. Just before entering Maryland, crossed my favorite highway in the world, Route 1. Soon after got some advice on camping from a conspiracy theorist and biking afficinado, Lewis (We rode together for about 5 miles and chatted about a wide range subjects. I encouraged him to go bike touring in the desert because you’re generally safe from most sinister forces there.), who sent me to Elk Neck State Park. Down a road which was too narrow for him because he was paranoid about being hit. The park itself was had the feeling of the bayou. No hot water in the shower actually felt kind of good. Dinner accompanied by the whining overtone that can be created only by 1000 mosquitos buzzing around your head.

Wednesday (6/15). (Elk Neck, MD to Rehoboth Beach, DE, 124.7 miles). Up early for the final push to the beach! Another hot day, but a nice breeze blowing from the NW–a perfect tailwind to end the trip. Soon out of the park, minor adventure getting across a six-foot drop to a stream where the bridge was washed out. Breakfast at a trendy bagel shop in Elkton (they had spinach herb bagels), a city that was (I hear from my mother) a popular place to elope. I guess that explains the bridal elk statue on Main St. Crossed the Chesapeake and Delaware canal over an impressive bridge and soon after crossed into Delaware. Delaware is remarkably flat and looks pretty much like this everywhere (corn & chickens). They also have a bad habit of not labeling roads very well. My attempt to follow DE-15 south degenerated into using the direction of the sun to aim southeast across a network of tiny roads. That strategy seemed to work better. Somehow also managed to underestimate the distance I had to go by about 30 miles (or maybe I entered some sort of spatiotemporal distortion field? Who knows? Delaware will forever remain a mystery). Final 25 miles charged down DE-1, dodged rush hour traffic and cruised down Rehoboth Ave to the Atlantic Ocean! (Have I changed very much since I left? Maybe a bit more facial hair.) Greeted by my mother, her friend Pat, and a newspaper reporter from the Cape Gazette. Possibly they’ll have something about my adventures soon.

Total mileage: 4122.5

So anyways, I guess that’s about it. One and a half months on the road. Done. If I can ever get a grip on all the voices in my head, maybe I’ll try to put together a more succinct commentary on what works and what doesn’t work on a long bike trip. In general, I’m happy with the course of my blind plunge eastward and wouldn’t change much.

Now a slow drift away from a sunrise to sunset schedule, a continuous flow of scenery and sweat, frequent introspection on the nature and many subtleties of pain, and uninhibited gorging. Hopefully also the callouses on my rear end will not remain permanently (though then I would be able to proudly adopt the nick name “monkey butt"). Not sure what else there is to do, but I plan to spend the next couple years talking to a bunch of ferrets and see what they have to say.

Chambersburg, PA. I don’t know what it was exactly. But I can point to the moment–leaving Urhichsville, OH–when all of the sudden things started looking familiar. Maybe it was the smell of honeysuckle growing from the cracked ruins of houses in little towns? The re-appearance of hills? Woods? That special red-neck accent that seems to flourish in the outskirts of the Washington area? I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I’m getting back somewhere.

Oh, and I apologize. I’ve been a bit misleading about where I’m actually going. It’s easy to say “Washington DC” when you’re in Utah, but the truth is I’m actually headed toward Rehoboth Beach, DE, where I’ll ride full speed into the ocean (er, something like that). I’ll ride back to DC in luxury with my Mom.

Thursday (6/9). (Indian Lake to Millwood, OH, 88.5 miles). Enjoyed a nice breakfast with Jean & Ron (with the lake behind them). Dropped back off by Ron exactly in the grocery store parking lot where they found me (true bike tourist ethic!). Almost immediately found myself at the top of Campbell Hill, the highest point in Ohio (and home to a vocational school). Wandered over more farmland and into the area near Newark, where another great neuroscientist and karaoke star (and also my girlfriend!) Kathleen Hansen spent her early years. It appears that there are two essential ingredients to a good life in that part of the world: live bait and cold soda.

Friday (6/10). (Millwood to Steubenville, OH, 120.9 miles). It seemed like every day was slightly steamier than the previous. Woke up in what felt like 110% humidity. Wandered through the misty Mohawk Valley, which is used to contain spring flooding and thus not farmed or anything. Very pretty. Through Coshocton and Uhrichsville, with smatterings of Amishness here and there. Like I said, sudden feeling of joy and giddiness around Tappan Lake. Back in the hills. Strangely invigorating. Like my legs were asleep on the plain. At the top of hill number 4 or 5 was New Rumley, which seems to exist only because Gen. Custer was born there. Crazed with energy, rolled over many more hills and finally down to Steubenville on the bank of the Ohio. Minor adventure there. No official campground and all the motels were full. The security at the Franciscan University refused to let me camp there (because conference was going on… which is also why all the motels were full!). Staked out the monastery and asked a brother about it. He told me that it was ok to camp there as long as I didn’t get caught.

Saturday (6/11). (Steubenville, OH to Mt. Pleasant, PA, 92.9 miles). Woke up before any of that dawn stuff and escaped successfully from my campsite. Crossed the Ohio into West Virginia somewhat foolishly under cover of darkness. Only about 10 miles in WV and was soon in Pennsylvania. Ah, so much more rough and tumble than well-groomed Ohio. A new and popular lawn ornament is the gazing ball-headed angel. Oh, and another thing that happened soon after I got into PA is the hills started in earnest. Up, down, up, down. Crossed the Monogahela River (which feeds the Ohio in Pittsburgh) in the town of Monogahela. Expecting a nice little river town (foolish desert dweller that I have been out west). Actually a sort of grimy industrial town, but with a cool set of bleachers painted like an American flag overlooking the river. Soon after passed what appears to be somewhat common in southwest PA, a valley of dead cars (the roads are kind of steep and windy, so maybe that have a big supply). Got hit by a thunderstorm in the afternoon. Decided to splurge and live it up at the R & R hotel in Mt. Pleasant (cheap!).

Sunday (6/12). (Mt. Pleasant to Breezewood, PA, 88.6 miles). Seems like the thunderstorm did a bit to clear things up a bit. Paralelled the PA turnpike on little roads. A beautiful day to beat the hell out of your leg muscles. Hulk wasn’t wavering and charged over the hills happily. Somewhere in the blur of ups and downs, I think I crossed the Mississippi/Atlantic divide. Maybe on Allegheny Summit? Things eased up almost magically about 20 miles west of Bedford. My warmest appreciation to the PA highway builders who stuck the PA Turnpike along the one valley that runs E-W for about 40 miles. In Bedford, saw what seems to be the core of Pennsylvania’s spirit, steep mounds of rocks and patriotism. A nice gentle ride to Breezewood, where there’s a nice, cheap city campground behind the fire station. Picturesque sunset made it hard to believe that it was the same town (at the junction of the turnpike and I-70) that takes pride in its wealth of souvenir stores and fast food places.

Today (6/13). Man, it’s steamy again! Broke off from the Turnpike on US-30. Doesn’t mean the hills are quite over. And wow… Now I remember life on the east coast: Beads of sweat accumulating on your skin. Field of the day: Look at how big the corn is!. Coming soon are some great crossings: the Appalachian Trail, I-95, US-1. And I think I’m almost there!

Indian Lake, OH. Out of the frying pan and into the boiler! Yes, I survived the escape from Chicago. It wasn’t actually to bad getting out to the south, if you don’t mind a car here and there.

But man, it’s warm! Frederic Theunissen pointed out that I could plan my trip to follow the 70-degree isocline across the country. If you averaged the daily high across my entire trip, you’d probably get something like that, but every day seems to either be 50 or 90. I’m in one of those 90 sections now. And (welcome back to the east coast) I am rediscovering what it means to be humid.

Here are some pics from before: Thursday Peaches are in season in Cedar Rapids!, Field of the day: Waves of grain (or grass?), Sunset over the Mississippi near Sabula. Friday Patriotism in Leaf River, IL, Field of the day: Houses!. Saturday At the beach in Chicago. Sunday: Andy and Leila at the 57th St Art Festival, Michael, Joyce and Sophia at home.

Monday (6/6). (Chicago, IL to Bass Lake, IN, 98.8miles). The key to getting out of Chicago is to go straight south and cut east to Indiana only when you’re safely out of the industrial/poverty-stricken zone. Basically, from Hyde Park, I rode south. Whenever a road ended, I’d jig west til I could go south again (Cottage Grove to MLK to IL-1 eventually). There was a bit more broken glass on the ground than usual. And the sights were kind of sad. For instance, at this road construction site, they didn’t seem to have the lane change arrow working, so they used tape to make an arrow instead. I even found a bike path for part of the way (Samuel Taylor trail, maybe?). Once on IL-1, passed lots of steel mill related stuff and weird things like what looked to be the Hell’s Angels, Chicago Headquarters (the front of the building was a cinderblock wall). In Chicago Heights started heading east. Crossed into Indiana soon after. Man, I apologize to Iowa. Indiana has an even greater charm. Of course, it was also ridiculously hot and humid from 10 am on. In Crown Point, they spruced things up with bulldog statues all over the place. Otherwise, flat, farms, pickup trucks, suburban houses. Made it to Bass Lake to camp. Swim was wonderful. Field of the day: It was nice and sunny

Tuesday (6/7). (Bass Lake to Oubache S.P., IN, 108.4 miles). If there’s one thing Indian does have, it’s churches. If you’re a student of contemporary architecture, you might be interested to see how they can vary from low-budget to funky and modern. Zagged mostly east but a little south when I could find diagonal roads the right way. Lots of Menonite-looking people. Chatted with one woman in N. Manchester. She seemed pleased to see a young modern person biking. Huntington was scary. Is that where Dan Quayle is from? They have something called the “Dan Quayle Museum". A couple towns over, the welcome to town sign adverstised all sorts of groups (Elks, Masons, etc) including one called “Tri Kappa” I don’t know what that is, but I didn’t see any minorities wearing T-shirts advertising it. Made it to Oubache State Park to camp (that’s “Wabash” to many of us). Felt like 85 degrees after sunset. Got harrassed by racoons all night. Nearly lost my bread when I went to get water. Had to horde all the food inside and listen to sniffing noises all night.

Wednesday (6/8). (Oubache S.P., IN to Indian Lake, OH, 92.9 miles). Still hot! Crossed over into Ohio pretty early. Found myself in Auglaize County, the homeland of reknowned karaoke star and neuroscientist, Ryan Prenger. What you might not know, is that it’s also the birthplace of Neil Armstrong. Go Ohio! So proud of its children. Didn’t have a chance to go to Minster (Ryan’s hometown) but I did enjoy the sights of St. Mary’s and New Knoxville. (Oh, I had the opportunity to visit, Dull, OH, on the way in, but decided it wasn’t worth the detour). What else is exciting about Ohio? The hay bales are square! (rather than rolls, as in Iowa and west). Slow afternoon. I think it’s the heat. Drinking like a fish. Little bit of rain but nothing serious. Scary crackling noises from power lines. In Bellefontaine stopped to see the site of the world’s first concrete paved street. Then at grocery store I met a really nice couple, Ron and Jean, who have done a bunch of touring (including cross country). They invited me to stay at their place. Fed me much tasty food. Swam in the lake behind their house and looking forward to a comfortable bed tonight!

Tomorrow: Into the depths of Ohio! Circle north of Columbus.

Chicago, IL. Somehow feels like I made it somewhere. I think my sense of space and time was really starting to dissolve in those plains states. But yesterday morning, as I navigated potholes (coming east) and rollerbladers (coming south along the lake), Chicago arrived with a dramatic bang. Made my way to Hyde Park, where I’ve been taking it easy for the past day and a half with Michael (my brother), Joyce, and their daughter Sophia. Apologies, we’ve been so busy relaxing, I haven’t had time to do any photo processing. But worry not, I’m sure the riches of the eastern lands will provide.

Recently, I’ve noticed a change in my interactions with strangers. In the past, when I’d chat it up with a gas-station attendent or farmer enjoying an ice cream break, they’d ask what I was doing and–when I’d told them–they’d look at me kind of the way you look at a sick dog. But now when I say I came from San Francisco they give me a look like I’m supposed to spout off great words of wisdom or something. Of course, the greatest wisdom I can think of is “exert cognitive control over your desire to overeat” or “don’t feel guilty about tailwinds.”

Thursday (6/2). (Cedar Rapids to Sebula, NE, 93.2 miles). Ug. Aside from my two-hour internet break in Anamosa, it was a cathartic day of manure-soaked headwinds and endless rollers (plop, plop). Fueled by a huge starchy breakfast of make-it-yourself waffles from the Quality Inn, I felt a strength that lasted a few hours. Decided to brave some state highway riding. Caught IA-64 east out of Anamosa and followed that for the rest of the day. Traffic wasn’t too bad and there was even a shoulder for a bit. Energy started lagging by the time I made it to Maquoketa, where I got to watch preparations for a tractor show. But onward I struggled. The greatest moment of the day came around 8 pm. It was getting late, but I was determined to make it to the Mississippi River (and border of Illinois). Fields, hills, wind, fields, hills, wind. Then suddenly, I dropped through a gap between two hills, like a rabbit hole. Downhill for a whole mile (! long for Iowa) and suddenly I was in a swampy green netherworld. I had arrived at Sebula–the only island town in Iowa. It was strangely ecstatic. New stimuli everywhere. Cute little campground right on the banks of the Mississippi. Barges traveling up the river. River otters. The people even seemed a little rougher and meaner.

Friday (6/3). (Sebula, NE to Elgin, IL, 111.5 miles). Toward the big city. Nice little cruise on a causeway through the river island/canal region. Across the Miss. to Savanna, IL. Then back up to farmland that looked strikingly like Iowa but with slightly gentler hills. Got an alarmist bike map that made every state highway in Illinois look like instant death. Found a few nice back roads, but they kind of meandered. Wound my way to Forreston and finally decided to brave the state highways and found that they weren’t actually that bad. Caught IL-72, pretty much a direct shot east to Chicago. As usual, wind was blowing from the east, but there were a lot more trees around to break it. So going was pretty good. By about Genoa, started seeing crops of young housing developments. Was tempted to camp out in some woodsey spot (not much in the way of legitimate campgrounds ’round here but there are a bunch of tempting forest preserves). But then threat of rain made a motel seem more appealing. Found refuge in a Super 8 in Elgin, with I-90 humming by a couple blocks away.

Saturday (6/4). (Elgin to Chicago, IL, 61.6 miles). Into the urban jungle. I’d been having discussions with a few people about how to actually approach Chicago from the west. As far as I can tell, there’s no “right” way to do it, and most ways are kind of wrong. Worked my way over to IL-52 (Golf Rd), which was big, but had a decent amount of space. Back on IL-72 for a while but then got lured off onto a bike path around some cute little lakes that just brought me south (for some reason, all the pleasant, quiet roads go north/south). IL-29 got me to O’Hare Airport. Then things got murky for a bit. Potholes, baseball fans, etc. No rude comments, strangely. And only for a few miles. Once I got deeper into Chicago, I got into the rhythm of the traffic and had no problem working over to the lakeshore. South along the shore toward Hyde Park. The bike path along the shore was nice and sunny and crowded with weekenders. Slow cruise. Stopped to dip my feet in the water at the beach and tried what Chicago calls a “smoothie” (ice with some mysterious fruit juice from a carton blended in. “All natural” … Offensive to the Californian portion of my soul). About 20 blocks north of Hyde Park the sky suddenly got very dark and got hit by a torrential thunderstorm. Pretty crazy. Convenient way to test out heavy water exposure on my gear, since I would be able to dry off at Michael and Joyce’s. Turned out that things (other than me) didn’t get that wet. And the wonder of synthetic fabrics is that I was dry about 30 minutes after the sun came out.

Sunday (6/5). (Chicago, IL, 0 miles). Enjoyed a lazy day in the city. Went to the 9:00 service at the grand Fourth Presbyterian Church in downtown. Then back to Hyde Park for the annual 57th Street Art Festival. Met up with my friends Andy and Sarah and their daughter Leila (I rode with Andy through British Columbia and the Yukon up to the Artic Circle in 1997). Wanted to see some of Kathleen’s haunts from her undergrad days. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) her dorm was torn down because it was ugly and UC needed a new business school. Boy, it’s kind of hot and humid. More rain in the afternoon. Good day to take off! M & J’s friend Sam came over for dinner and had a few suggestions for how to get out of the city. Strangely only now has it dawned on me that getting out of Chicago to the south is probably a harder problem than getting in from the west. My plan is to look tough and mean and to avoid Gary, IN.

Anamosa, IA. It really struck me as I pulled into Aurora, NE. The town had a town square that was remarkably similar to Minden (cobblestones rattling bike, courthouse in center, surrounded by half-open little stores, grocery store off one block to the NW). It was eerie. But I guess that’s what this part of the world is like. Well-planned, few surprises and no cataclysmic weird things (eg, Badwater, the continental divide, etc.). That’s not to say Nebraska and Iowa are uniform! A quick look at the map shows a smooth increase in desnsity of roads as you move east. The hills come and go (Iowa is surprisingly hilly!). New convenience stores appear and disappear (My current favorite is “Quik Star", which has a much better bakery and coffee selection than “Kum & Go” or “Casey’s General Store"). Pioneer Village is kind of singular, but weirdly, it celebrates all those mass-produced things that make life in the U.S. so predictible. Well, I guess that’s what infinity is like. Lot’s of time to develop my obsessions with food, wind, and pavement.

Oh, and for those of you who were commenting about knee-related issues. I realized in Omaha that my seat was about an inch too low. Oops. Knee pain be gone. Now it’s just tired muscles.

Saturday (5/28). (Minden to York, NE, 101.4 miles). Storm dodging. When I emerged from my extended break at the Hastings library, the world had turned a bit sinister. It had clouded up, and was scary looking to the south but clear to the north. Slight drizzle, so I decided to make a break north, rather than continuing east on US 6. Rode up to the other side of I-80 (which I crossed a few times over the next couple days) to Aurora (sight of deja vu nonsingularity experience). Passed a train carrying coal. Trains all over the place around here. Coal trains run full to the east and empty to the west.

Sunday (5/29). (York to Omaha, NE, 101.4 miles). City life. More clouds at dawn, which turned into a slight drizzle in a couple hours. That turned on and off over the day. East toward Lincoln. Nebraska isn’t all wheat and corn! Saw some social alpacas (?) and lots of cemeteries (quite decorated for Memorial Day, which seems to be celebrated pretty consistently around here). Got hilly and a bit headwindy, but eventually made it to Lincoln, where the state capitol loomed like a giant grain elevator. Sort of slow going in the rain and stopped frequently. Not used to all the traffic. Hulk took advantage of an opportunity to nuzzle up against a Sinclair dinasaur. Eventually made it to the Omaha metro area. Kind of crazy traffic and construction (apparently it’s activity expanding west). Passed “Boy’s Town". Soon after was standing around at one of the uglier intersections (Dodge and 114 St) looking for a motel when passing car asked if I needed directions. The driver, Pete, turned out to be an avid cyclist. He offered to let me crash at his place. Wow! A home! Gorged on pizza and passed out. Field of the day: Crispix! (Wheat on one side, corn on the other).

Monday (5/30). (Omaha, NE to Hamlin, IA, 86.8 miles). Into the hills! Rode with Pete through Omaha (nice to have an escort through a big city!). Met up with his friend Steve downtown (Steve on L, Pete on R). Steve is a native and resident of Iowa, but manages to over-look his differences and get along peacefully with Pete, a native of Nebraska. And both are active members of the Omaha Pedalers. Coffee and looked around a bit at Ford-oriented-hobbiest autoshow (people like their cars around here!). Pete took off for Memorial Day activities, and I rode with Steve semi-legally across the Misouri River into Iowa on I-480. Rode up north with Steve to his hometown Neola (where he was observing Memorial Day), and then set off into the countryside with much useful information about navigating the sometimes hostile road network in Iowa. They don’t pave their shoulders traditionally, so it’s best to stick to back roads with little traffic. The rest of the day was full of little hills (“rollers”, a name which for some reason makes me think of turds and laugh). Speaking of scatology, the wind has been blowing in my face for the past four days (though apparently the wind NEVER blows from the east around here, says everyone). Often I’m downwind from cows and/or fertilized fields. Sort of like the state of Iowa is passing gas in my face. Ok, it’s not that horrible. Look, I even saw a little bunny hop across the road. In a kind of empty area, but a guy in Hamlin let me pitch my tent in his back yard. Really felt like the middle of nowhere. The cats there were all aggressive and tried to steal doughnuts from me. Field of the day: Corn (Iowa is ALL corn). (Notice hilliness and funny inverted pattern. Corn hasn’t grown and is brown, but the grass around the edges forms kind of nice looking green rims.)

Tuesday (5/31). (Hamlin to Coho, IA, 115.4 miles). Wind, rain, wind, rain. Woke up to a nice headwind and light drizzle. Kind of like riding through spittle. Stopped to warm up in Guthrie, a kind of sad little town. Soon after the sidewall on my tire spontaneously blew out. Uk. Luckily I had my heretofore retired front tire to use as a spare. Decided to alter my route to go up to Ames, IA (home of Iowa State University, which will be hosting next year’s Odyssey of the Mind! It looks like a nice town, though not surrounded by moutains like boulder). Replacement tire (another Panasonic folding tire. Much better than the damn Continental that died. This is an official un-endorsement of Continental tires.) Ever wonder where your Barilla pasta comes from? I guess it’s Ames, not Italy. Wind, wind, wind. Tired. Stopped at an RV resort just short of State Center (a real town). Cute little resort complete with petting zoo (where goats frolic peacefully with chickens and pigs) and a kind of murky paddle boat pond.

Wednesday (6/1). (Coho to Cedar Rapids, IA, 115.4 miles). Wind, sun, wind, sun. Dawn came with rosy fingers. Now I feel a kinship with Odysseus and his obsessions with the wind. The wrong wind for too many days in a row really wears on you. Even tempts you to eat the cattle of Hyperion, the sun god. Luckily, I’ve avoided doing something so foolish thus far. Also slightly frustrated with the scenic, though meandering and poorly paved back roads of Iowa. Decided to take a little short cut along US-30. Man, that’s scary. It started off innocently enough (they’re expanding it and adding a shoulder). But after I passed the local tribal gaming casino (in Tama), it reverted to it’s classic zero-shoulder, two lane state. Man. Scylla the trucks and Carybdis the gravel. In Toledo, escaped back on to the winding, windy side roads. Trudge trudge. Goats. Discovered I was in an area with a substantial Czech heritage. Tired muscles. Decided to treat myself to a motel in supposedly nearby Cedar Rapids. In Palo asked a grizzled old mechanic where the nearest motel was. He kind of laughed and sent me off on a 15 mile trip to the far side of the city (which apparently was the nearest place for motels). Sun was getting low as I crossed the Cedar River. Finally made it to a Quality Inn and managed to negotiate down to half price (! made me feel proud). Dinner set out to find the limits of my stomach capacity at the Granite State Brewery. Tasty meatloaf and beer and salad and cake. Literally thought I was going to enter a coma by the end of the meal. Field of the day: Last year’s corn.

On my way out of Cedar Rapids now. Hopefully I will make Illinois tonight!

Hastings, NE. If you’re like me, you have a thing for functions with nice asymptotic behavior. Well, I have to say, coming out of Boulder was certainly a lot like riding along a really slow underdamped oscillator (ie, exp(iwx-ax), where x is about 2pi/4 miles and a is about 200 miles. There’s a trend and some noise in there too, of course.) That is, the world has gotten flatter and flatter as I’ve come east from Boulder.

Things also change at a different pace. From SF through the Rockies, it felt like a stream of sensory overload. One new thing after another. Now the farm fields roll along slowly. To give you a sense of the new environment, I’ll offer a “field of the day” picture.

Tuesday (5/24). (Boulder to Fort Morgan, CO, 106.8 miles). Wind, flat tires and hail, oh my! It all seemed nice enough on the way out of Boulder. Navigated the network of bike paths against what passes for morning rush hour (mostly a large number of satisfied-looking cyclists). Then due east on CO 52. Celebrated crossing I-25 with a McGriddle. Yum. But on about lunchtime in Prospect Valley, things got a little hairier (sp?). Wind picked up, clouds blew in. On the way out of town, I got a flat tire on my 4000-mile old front tire. Thorns, dammit. Decided it was time to replace it with my nifty foldable tire hidden in my paniers. Scary looking storm clouds appeared to the north and south. By the time I turned toward Wiggins, I encountered one of the nastier hail storms I’ve ever seen (good call, Hank). Now I know how Odysseus’ ships felt as the Laestrygones destroyed them with a barrage of rocks. Blind and welted, I hid behind a barn (that was weirdly playing classic rock on some outdoor speakers, though noone was around) until it passed. Limped along for the rest of the day to the kind of sketchy town of Fort Morgan. There was a FREE park there where you could camp. Lots of low-riders cruising around. Weirdly, no water. Had to bum it off a kindly woman working the concession stand at a baseball game. Here’s the field of the day: Wheat.

Wednesday (5/25). (Fort Morgan to Haxtum, CO, 87.1 miles). Wind. Man, from the very start of the day it was a struggle to move forward. Picked up US 6 and followed it NE. Scenery was nice, despite the blasting wind. Little resevoir along the S. Platte River. Every town basically since getting out of the Fort Morgan area has had its own grain elevator. Wind made me so hungry that I took advantage of a second 1/3 lb. hamburger for $1 (yum!) at a restaurant in Sterling. Turned E away from the Platte and things got a little better. I learned not to judge a town by the size of its grain elevator. Little Haxtum had a free campground in the rodeo area beneath their’s. Also discover a new food: eggs! A dozen was only 57 cents! The kindly checkout woman at the grocery store was shocked when I only bought six (23 cents). Field of the day: More wheat..

Thursday (5/26). (Haxtum, CO to McCook, NE, 124.7 miles). Sailing over the plains! Didn’t quite know what to expect about my first couple harsh days on the plains. Scary clouds at dawn. But what do you know? The wind had changed directions and was blazing out of the NW. Cruised like there’s no tomorrow over the Nebraska border and along the Frenchman River. Passed Waunita ("halfway between here and there"… I guess so!) Didn’t know what else to do, but ride. Sailed into McCook, where I found another FREE campground. This one had showers. Good thing, because not having bathed since Boulder, I was more like McFunk. Field of the day: Even more wheat!

Friday (5/27). (McCook to Minden, NE, 100.3 miles). Sailing and sunshine. The good winds continued. Morning brought me to what I expected to be the cute college town of Cambridge. Instead I found Trojans! Uh oh. Managed to sneak in, eat breakfast at a cafe with a bunch of farmers and escape unnoticed. Smooth sailing east along US 6 over surprisingly hilly landcape. Later in the day, strange knee pains. Decided to slow down a bit. Stopped pretty early in Minden, which gave me time to visit the exciting Pioneer Village! Collections of everything: cars, bikes, salt and pepper shakers, you name it! Of course, heading homeward and east, I feel more like an anti-pioneer. Field of the day: Corn(?)

Saturday (5/28). (Minden, NE to ??). Normalcy? Well, the wind ain’t quite so crazy and the Mem. Day weekenders are starting to come out, but I continue to push E on US 6. Certain critics might complain that Nebraska isn’t exactly the most exciting state on my cross country trip. But there are so many exciting things! Just this morning I saw an irrigation device that looked like some sort of scary monster. Soon after, I discovered a patch of crappy old road where each cement panel in the road had a number stamped in it (in this picture, you can also observe a particularly crappy section of shoulder at the top: black tarry gravel. Usually it’s not this bad). More things to count on the way to infinity! Field of the day: More corn? (Note lack of clouds! It’s sunny!)

Boulder, CO. Whew! The race was on to make it to Boulder in time to catch my niece, Noora, perform in the Odyssey of the Mind international (?) finals. Kind of a strange contrast from racing 300 miles across the Rockies in three days to a college campus full of 1000’s of children running around and participating in strange rituals. So I’m taking the day off to watch the competition (and soak my knees in the hotel hot tub and do some laundry in the UC dorm basements).

Colorado has provided a climax to the mountain wildness. (The Odyssey is currently recounting the imprisonment and psychotic antics of the cyclops. Somehow seems parallel.) The change from struggling to survive wind and chills in Nevada has turned into a blazing heat wave. The continental divide (Monarch Pass, 11300 feet) provided an interesting experience in oxygen deprivation.

(Oh. The CD I had made in Moab had some messed up files. Here are a few old highlights that I recovered when I re-burned the pictures today: Sunrise at the abandoned motel in Currant, NV. Snowy pass above Ely, NV. “Whoa” sign near the UT border. Sunset at the Wah Wah mountains. Shafts of sunlight after escaping the hail storm near Beaver, UT.)

Thursday (5/18). (Moab, UT to the UT-CO border, 52.4 miles) Into the hills! Moab with all its craziness was starting to get to me, so I had to escape to a quieter place. On the way out saw some crazy mountain biking gathering that involved heavily armored people riding down the wall of the canyon that sits on the edge of town. Ridiculous. Rode south through quaint Spanish Valley past some pet bison and the old airport-turned anarchic free campground and then south on US-189. Hole ‘n the Rock was an intriguing roadside attraction. Happened to be infested with caterpillars that were everywhere (including on me after I sat there for a few mintues eating lunch). Only time I’ve every walked down a sidewalk with the sound of millions of caterpillar droppings crunching under my feet. Soon after turned east (nice feeling) up to La Sal national forest. Big snow-capped mountains. Then down again toward Paradox Valley. Camped hidden in a grove of oaks. Used an old washing machine as my picnic table. Bathing and laundry in a nice little stream.

Friday (5/19). (UT-CO border to Ridgway, CO, 103.7 miles). Colorado weirdness. Ups and downs through Paradox Valley. Excited to get to Naturita, CO, because I figured, being “natural", they might have a supply of good-for-the-environment campsoap for sale, which I was greatly in need of. Instead, as I sat for lunch I got to overhear a rather hoochily-dressed young woman (for southern CO, at least) complain on the phone about how someone was trying to kill her and she had violated parole. Then realized that the town next door was called Nucla and was the site of massive uranium mining in the 50s and 60s. (Also realized that the stream I bathed in the previous day flowed out of this area. Oops. I don’t think I’m glowing.) What is a Tri-state “nucla” station anyway? Passed through farmland dotted with strange metal sculptures. Up along the San Miguel River and then a long but decently graded climb over the Dallas Divide. Finally riding among snow-capped Rockies. Very scenic. Camped down at the bottom, near Ridgway.

Saturday (5/20). (Ridgway to Gunnison, CO, 90.1 miles) Starting the climb. Buzzed down the Uncompagre River to Montrose. Nice little farm and ranching valley. Enjoyed the civilized feeling of a latte at Starbucks (which did most of its business drive-thru). Then picked up US 50 and started a climb over a series of passes that would lead eventually to the continental divide. Boy, it was a hot one, especially on the long uphills. Sweat in the eyes and hot in the head, adopted an alternative headgear inspired by passing motorcyclists. After a couple passes, rode along Blue Mesa Resevoir for about 20 miles. Ended up the day in Gunnison. Nice wholesome town. Decided to splurge and stay at the Super 8. It was some sort of 4-H ritual weekend. Lots of tall skinny, neatly groomed young men and women wandered around looking scared (by me?). Everyone had big bright belt buckles. Seems that jeweled studs are the in thing with women now. Pretty cool. Got dinner at a family restaurant that (gasp!) didn’t serve beer. But they did serve Rocky Mountain oysters. Sandwiched on the menu right between chicken-fried steak and meatloaf. Didn’t quite have the “cojones” to order them though. Har har har.

Saturday (5/21). (Gunnison to near Fairplay, CO, 107.0 miles) Crossing the great divide! Refreshed by the real bed, early start up the Tomichi Creek. Valley narrowed into a canyon. After Seargents (8500′) started the serious climb to Monarch Pass (11,300′), where I crossed the continental divide. Yee haw! The fact that there was a heat wave going on made it nice up there. Long downhill past old mining sites. Before Salida turned north on US 285. Ug. Lots of rolling ups and downs. Kind of worn out. One more big climb, over Trout Creak Pass (9300) and was rewarded by a beautiful valley (9000′ at the base, surrounded by 14000′ mountains, including Pike’s Peak). Camped at a little National Forest Campground and stared somewhat dazed at a little fluffy cloud at sunset. The only other people at the campground was a moutain biking family from Colorado Springs. Roasted marshmallows with them at their campfire. As most Colorado residents I have met, they were super gung-ho about everything Coloradan. If California is cool, dude, then Colorado rocks, man!

Sunday (5/22). (near Fairplay to Boulder, CO, 115.0 miles) The race for Boulder. Awe man, it was Sunday morning, and Noora’s performance was Monday at 11 am. Boulder was something more than 100 miles away. Starting out was bizarre. Riding for an extended period at 9000 feet means not much oxygen. Legs not moving very well. Passed a bunch of grazing creatures including perhaps an elk? Ground slowly past towns of giddy people, including the site of South Park. Finally crossed Kenosha Pass (where the aspens didn’t have leaves yet). Then it was about 20 miles of downhill. Hurray for oxygen! Things got a little rougher as I got close to Denver. Traffic picked up (roar roar roar. Each car with its own distinct exhaust smell). And the mountains turned into a series of steep hills. Very scenic though. Red rocks near Red Rocks Amphitheater. Slow crawl through outer western suburbs of Denver. Passed Golden, where I found a grand-opening Seven Eleven that was selling hotdogs for 39 cents! Oh yeah. After brief orgy, braved the final 20 miles north to Boulder.

Monday (5/23). (Boulder, CO. 0 miles). Rest! Hanging out in Boulder. It’s such a bike friendly town. Reminds me of something you’d find in Europe. Watched Noora’s Odyssey of the Mind team compete. Strange combination of dressing up in costumes, acting out drama, and trying to get mechanical cars to climb over and around obstacles to pop balloons. Now sitting in a nice dry hotel as thunderstorms pass by. Good day to take off. Hopefully it’ll clear up and cool off tomorrow. Tomorrow, by the way is downhill and to the east! No more of those damn mountain things for a while!

Moab, UT. Sunshine, yes. Lollipops and rainbows, no. But Utah is full of surprises. Been making good time, averaging about 100 miles a day. Knees a bit sore. Thus a break in Moab. Crazy overgrown city with tons of traffic and terrible roads. Culture shock to see so many people. And they’re all freaky crazy outdoor adventure sport types (tatooed shaved heads, etc.). Nice to have a latte and relax though. Enough civilization to affirm that I’m still happy wandering about in the isolated wilderness.

Been eating well. In reading the Odyssey, I notices that Homer spends a lot of time talking about food. Recently rediscovered mega-super-trail mix. Basically a high calorie combination of all those things you love to snack on (granola, nuts, dried fruit, m & ms, chocolate chips,…). (Originally perfected on a trip in British Columbia with Kristen. So great it had to be photographed.) Can basically use it like fuel. Otherwise, diet is lots of oatmeal, tortillas, bread, cheese, meat, pasta, cookies, chex mix, power bars, pop tarts, apples, any other fruit possible, and a burger at pretty much any burger-selling place I pass.

A couple shots from the 167-mile Tonopah to Ely netherworld: Tonopah’s pride and joy, entrance to the rocket testing range.
Smooshed cars at abandoned Warm Springs.

Saturday (5/14) continued. Lucky dodge. Sunny, warm going through the ranchlands and pig farms of western Utah. Hit I-15 at Beaver when dark stormclouds appeared in the east and south (the two possible directions that I might go). Brief investigation revealed that the direct east road was still buried under about 10 feet of snow, which made the decision simpler. After dallying aimlessly for a bit (as you might do when your future leads you into a scary storm), headed south along I-15. Had to actually get on the interstate for 3 miles. Not so crazy, except that it started hailing about 1/2 mile before my exit for UT 20. Trudged uphill. Miraculously after three miles the rain stopped, and it cleared up. Made it to Buckskin Valley, about halfway over the pass and decided to pull off down a dirt road. On the way in, encountered a VERY friendly extended family that was on the way back from a weekend at their anscestral homestead cabin. They were freaked out that I was camping up there and gave me water and firewood. Chatted with Blain, the acting family elder (though he seemed to be about 25) for a while. He’s studying to be a wildlife counter person.

Sunday (5/15). Dawn in Buckskin Valley. What a nice day! Bit chilly getting up, but managed and early start and decided to tackle the ambitious ride to Capitol Reef National Park. Cruised over to US-89 and headed north. Stopped in Circleville ("Founded in 1864. And again in 1874″ says the official sign) and ate a huge breakfast at Butch Cassidy’s Hideout Cafe. Continued north. Beautiful sunshine along the raging (because of all the rain) Sevier River up to Otter Creek Resevoir. North on UT-24 to Koosharem. On the way, passed some loud lambs in Greenwich. Koosharem was kind of weird. It being sunday, the whole town was closed down. Got water at a drug rehab camp (it happened to have cars parked in front of it). Chatted with some 10-12 year-old boys who were shoveling coal. Not for fun. Apparently this was their job. They were there for “mental stuff", not drugs. From there, a bit of a climb to Fish Lake pass (8400 feet!). Fun ride down on some “Hoop-dee-hoops” to Loa (rollercoaster-like ups and downs. See if you can go 40 mph down and maintain 20 over the top of the following hill. Learned their name from a couple teaching their daughter to ride her bike. They gave me a Poweraid and I taught the daughter how to ride in circles). Nice downhill cruise to Torrey. Found a hostel there and decided I had done enough and didn’t need the last 10 miles to Cap. Reef. Plus they had showers and they let me use their grill to cook a steak (yum). The proprietors, btw, don’t buy meat. The guy hunts all his. Last year he lived on 1 1/2 elk, 1 antelope, 1 dear and some parts of pig (remaining parts given to friends and family).

Monday (5/16). Dawn came with her rosy fingers. I set out across the beer-brown desert. Refreshed from sleeping on a bed, downhill to Capitol Reef. The top part, descending into Fremont Canyon, looked surprisingly similar to it’s fall appears (I passed here on my last trip to Utah). There were some flowers scattered among the red rock. Cruised through a more lush Fremont valley and was surprised to find carpets of flowers in the Cainsville badlands just outside of the park. Stopped at an organic farmstand restaurant for some tasty bread and OJ. The proprieters were feisty city folk trying to stop locals from riding their motorcycles and scarring up the badland hills. The tracks are kind of ugly. Also met a National Geographic photographer, Franz, who was doing a shoot on the Colorado Plateau. Nice job eh? Sat around chatting. Felt like some parlor chat from the turn of the century. Then up into the desert. Burger in Hankville and then caught a craaaazy tail wind north through the desert. Made 50 miles in about 2 hours. Found a neat shortcut that bypassed a stretch on I-70 on an old road. Passed some cattle along the way. Green River was weirdly suburban feeling. Camped next to a golf course and a somewhat sewagy-smelling Green River.

Tuesday (5/17). Arches! For some reason all the gay men in Green River like to hang out at the one coffee shop. Chatted with a few about mountain biking adventures and then set up for Arches N.P. Beautiful ride along the frontage road along I-70. Rolling green hills. Passed a shooting range and old missile test site. Then hit I-70. After the previous day’s shortcut luck, decided to risk and old dirt road again. Unfortunately this one was a bit worse for the wear and not as well signed. Ended up kind of overshooting a turn. Luckily met some ATVers who pointed me in the right direction before I wandered too far into the unknown canyonlands. Road was crappy, but nice and traffic-free. Lunch on the rim of a canyon by some rock formations. Bumped out to US 191, luckily with no damage to Hulk. Decided that’s enough off-roading for me. A taste of Moab (the mountain biking Mecca), I guess. Quick ride to Arches. Thought I would take an easy day, but of course instead decided to ride all the way into the park (20 miles each way, over some hills). Hike at the end through Devil’s Garden was nice. Saw Landscape arch and got a chance to record my beard growth. Getting late. Road out of Arches as the sun was going down. Nice on all the red rocks. Down into Moab. Got a room at the hostel (only 9 bucks) and collapsed.

Wednesday (5/18). Lolling about in Moab. Gonna head out toward La Sal this PM and Colorado tomorrow!

Wow… It’s only been two days since my last post. Kind of over-doing it, I know, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to color in a new state. The transistion from Nevada to Utah was surprisingly strong. Baker, NV, was home to old mining shacks and tell-it-like-it-is people who looked and talked like cowboys. Seven miles away, Garrison, UT, featured a tidy little church, and well behaved young men who spoke with midwestern accents.

The weather has warmed up. Utah seems greener and slightly more populated. Birds are chirping. Flowers are blooming. New pasttimes include dodging cow patties that have been deposited on the road by the free range cattle and counting the number of pickup trucks carrying ATVs that pass by.

Here’s my route for the past couple days.

Thursday (5/12). Ended up hanging out in Ely for the rest of the day for some R & R. It was cold and the RV park looked a bit ratty, so I decided to splurge for a $30 motel room. Right in downtown! Free margarita at the Hotel Nevada was exciting. Actually the casino was one of the more depressing places I’ve seen. About 5 people playing blackjack and 20 others at the slots. Slept well! Warmth!

Friday (5/13). Sunshine! Woke up to discover that the clouds were mostly gone. Got a quick start by about 7. The country is a bit higher elevation east of Ely. Crossed a couple passes over 7000 feet, but the grades were nice. The valleys in between were beautiful. Green grass at the bottom with snow-capped peaks along the side. Zoomed down toward the border (nearly 5000 feet). At the border I had to make a last-minute decision: head NE and stay on US50/6 on a relatively well maintained but roundabout route or SE on UT-21 through something resembling a void. Ended up going with the latter; the winds (from the N) kind of tipped me in that direction. Met my first bike tourist soon after… Robert, who is heading from Atlanta to Seattle and then to Sacramento. He gets 4 months! Lucky guy. Anyways, cruised a bit further through pastures and past mesas. Got about halfway up the Wah Wah Mountain pass and decided to camp behind a little hill. Finally a nice calm, reasonably warm night! Sunset was great.

Saturday (5/14). Woke up late (but I’m in a new time zone, so I’m not sure if 6 is late or not). Warm start! Could wear short sleeves within about 45 minutes! Couple of nicely graded passes, including Frisco Pass, which goes right by the old ghost town of Frisco. Not quite as successful as SF. Now I’m down below 5000 feet. Soon going to cross I-15 and then have to figure out how to negotiate my way across the state to Moab. Should be able to reestablish contact there.

Ely, NV. Yes, I am still alive. I’d have written earlier, but the prophecy about limited internet access in Nevada came true.

Getting out of California did feel sort of like escaping from prison. Of course, Nevada isn’t quite home. Empty. Gear seems to be holding up for the most part. It’s colder and wetter than I expected. These spandex legging things are great (keep your knees warm). Tent is slowly being ripped to shreds by all the wind, but still standing. And nothing has actually blown away. Stove is operating on unleaded gas. Eating like a wild animal. Not scaring away people when I find some to talk to. Thanks for all your comments! (My yellow band is attached visibly to bike, btw. I stare at “LIVESTRONG” when I’m riding along steep grades–strong–with small shoulder and trucks whizzing by–live).

Figured out a way to get photos off my camera. Used one of those card reader/CD burner things at a grocery store in Tonopah. The real starting photo. And culture in Coalinga. Apologies if the quality ain’t great.

Anyways, I’ll just dump out a record of what happened. It’s been an exciting week for me.

Thursday (5/5) cont. For those of you who happened to be keeping track of the weather in California, the weather didn’t quite clear up after my last post. Ride out of Coalinga was nice for about an hour. Cruising across the big, flat central valley. Then clouds descended. Darkness. Wind. Rain. Hail. Sought shelter in the fine town of Corcoran. I thought Coalinga was sketchy, as its major industries seem to be oil, cattle and a prison. Corcoran seems to make due with just a prison. Dried out in a cheap motel. Weirdest event there was eating at a restaurant (attached to my motel) called “Angel’s” where all the Indian (south Asian) employees wore white shirts and all the Mexican employees wore black shirts.

Friday (5/6). I thought I was dry! Started southeast with a nice tailwind. Passed some photogenic cows. Then of course more dark clouds. To the east and to the south. But not to the southeast. Kind of dodged in a zig-zag pattern (since all roads in the central valley go N-S or E-W). Barely squeezed by with a brief drenching right near Earlimart, where I crossed CA 99. Then it was up into the foothills of the Sierras! Seems to be going well til Fountain Spring where I discovered a pass (not on my map) was snowed in. Oops. Took a detour further south toward Greenhorn Pass over some merciless grades to Glennville, about half-way up. Stopped at a bar there, where some locals told me that the pass was snowy, windy and generally not a nice place to go. They suggested a plan to stop early and “kick it” for the day and then tomorrow “make like hell” before the next storm came in. So I did. Clung to the side of a hill at 4000 feet fearing the arrival of more rain.

Saturday (5/7). Woke up in a chilly, foggy Shangri-La like atmosphere (clouds surrounding moutaintops). Wasn’t exactly bright and sunny. But over the pass (finally!) found Lake Isabella basking in the sun. The heart of recreation in Kern County (famous for power scandals and being republican). In Kernville, they were having a hot-rod festival. One of my favorites inspired me to rename my bike “Hulk". Hey, he is green and strong. Hasn’t failed me so far. (Random was a dumb named based on the lettering that happens to be on the frame.) They also featured an Elvis impersonator. Thought it made a striking contrast to the art car parade in Berkeley. Rest of the day was beautiful and sunny. Blessed with a nice tail wind cruised over Walker Pass and into the desert! Camped at an RV park in Ridgecrest.

Sunday (5/8). Into Death Valley. Up at sunrise. Rode through un-scenic Searles Valley and into much nicer Panamint Valley. A bit toasty. But nice and empty and lined with colorful mountains. Telescope Peak still had snow. From Panamint Springs turned up the big, scary Towne Pass (5000 feet from 1000 feet and back down to 0 feet at the Death Valley side). Whew! Hot! Tired. The wildflowers started chatting and kept me company. Down at the bottom, camped at Stovepipe Wells. Kind of a weird corporate atmosphere. During the night the wind went kind of crazy (think this was from the storms elsewhere), came very close to losing my tent. And to add insult to injury some animal snuck in and stole a loaf of bread during the night.

Monday (5/9). Through Death Valley. Maybe the stolen bread worked as an offering to the gods. Not sure. But I had a great wind all the way through the valley. Turned north and rode under a few puffy clouds, passing many mountains, including the Cottonwoods. The wind was crazy, actually. 20-40 MPH. Luckily at my back. Siesta at Mesquite Spring (it was hot!). Stopped at Scotty’s Castle to stock up on supplies. Suddenly realized that I was about to enter a very desolate area and was kind of low on food (esp since the Coyote or whatever stole my bread!). Muffins, apples, whatever they had. Wind followed me up the canyon to Scotty’s Junction. Felt like I was being pushed up the hill. Crazy. And all of the sudden I was in Nevada! Really felt like nowhere. Definitely a good place to cross if you’re on the lam. Got to US 95 (kind of a crappy ride. Two lanes and lots of triple-trailer trucks, etc). Cruised north, still with tailwind and camped off the side of the road. Tent almost blew away again. Man, I was longing for the days of a nice, calm camp experience.

Tuesday (5/10). Wind. Ug. Woke up at sunrise. Nice breeze turned into the nightmare I had feared. The winds from the day before had turned around. Trudged north at a snail’s pace. Learned that the only civilization anywhere near me was the “Cottontail Ranch", an honest-to-goodness brothel (which also explained why there was no casino greeting me at the border, since counties can only do one or the other). Worried that I would run out of food because I was moving so slowly. Goldfield Pass was one of the more excruciating experiences (sand pelting face, etc). But then oh joy! Goldfield is a real town (I’d been told it was a ghost town). The waitress who served up the 2 x 2 x 2 breakfast seemed like the goddess who gave Odysseus her scarf while he was bobbing helplessly in the waves, having been tossed off his raft. Somewhat energized managed to trudge futher to Tonopah. Despite the wind, it was nice out. Restocked on grocerices (yum!) and attempted to attach to the internet. Unfortunately their receiver had been knocked down by the storm. No luck. Camped at a biker-friendly campground (you know, the Harley kind). The manager kind of mocked my blue rain jacket, but promised not to keep any written records of my visit, in case anyone came looking.

Wednesday (5/11). Emptiness. The 167 miles from Tonopah to Ely doesn’t have much in terms of civilization. Dude at the Tonopah hardware store implied there’d be nothing. No water, food, etc. Uh oh. Was a little worried, so I filled up my two extra water skins (ok, they’re plastic, and this isn’t ancient Greece) and set out. Such a beautiful ride. 7 passes with huge open valleys in between. Passed the “Extraterrestrial Highway” at an abandoned hot spring resort. After a while the scrub bushes seems to be dancing around. It was weird. Toward the end of the day, discovered that actually there was a place to stop (Blackrock Station, near Blackrock Pass). The guy there welcomed me with “Let me guess, you’re biking across country?". I guess all the bicyclists stop there, since it’s the only place. He apparently makes most of his money selling beer to Indians. At that point it was starting to get cloudy and scary rainwise again. He mentioned an abandoned motel about 20 miles down the road (in what was a town called Currant). Might run into some drunken “Injuns” but should be safe. Managed to dodge the rainclouds (you can see a long ways off around here) and found the motel. Inside was a but musty, so I camped in the backyard.

Thursday (5/12). Snow? Woke up nice and early and even rested (no horrendous winds or anything overnight). 50 miles to Ely. Two somewhat rough passes (7000 and 7300 feet) with snow at the top. During the period in between (White River Valley) finally felt settled into the trip. It’s nice. Now I think I’m going to go eat a huge cheap buffet and maybe press on a bit further. Tomorrow I should make it to Utah!

Oh dearest Chevron-Texaco oil pumps! Beacons of warmth and safety! Well, the convalescence is more psychological than physical. My grand entrance to the Central Valley was greeted with a driving rain. (First time I’ve had to ride in the rain for about 10 years, so I guess my karmic cycle was due) During the past three days, I ventured further and further away from civilization. Here at the Coalinga public library I’m becoming reacquainted with this thing called society.

Monday (5/2) cruised down the coast along the Great Highway, through Pacifica, over Devil’s Slide. Took it easy, not wanting to injure anything quite yet. Hung out on the beach for a while and then stopped to camp at Half Moon Bay. So luxurious! Camped under a little cyprus about 100 feet from the beach. Hung out with aging yuppies to watch whales swim by and the sunset.

Next day (5/3) continued down the coast. Great tailwind made the 58 miles to Santa Cruz seem like nothing. My one casualty so far happened then. Rearview mirror fell off on a bump and shattered. Oops. Picked up a replacement in S.C. Ahh. The sun, the surfers. I heard the song of Big Sur beckoning me to stay on the coast. But, no, I resisted the Siren’s call and turned inland at Watsonville. Passed through seemingly endless strawberry fields, full of migrant workers picking (this what John Lennon had in mind?). Started drooling at the thought of a strawberry snack. Unfortunately there were no functioning fruit stands and the supermarket I checked didn’t have any for sale. Weird, I guess they’re too valuable to waste in the local markets where they’re grown. Anyways, up past Hollister. And to the Hollister Hills SVRA (State Vehicular Recreation Area). Not exactly the quietest place to camp, but they do have showers. My neighbors were one of those weirdly wholesome families that sits around the campfire in body armor. Got some tips on the road south and ate a huge quantity of Annie’s shells.

Wednesday (5/4). Happy birthday Dad!

South into the void that exists between US 101 and I-5. The most noteable feature on a map is the “Asbestos Hazard Area". I made it about five miles from there but didn’t see anything intriguing. No fires, either. The stretch from Hollister to Coalinga is amazingly uncivilized. Basically ranches (that’s where all the cows in Kettlemen City come from, I think). Met a father and son out for a day ride and they pointed me on a side road (off of CA 25 which was averaging about one car every 20 minutes, Coalinga Rd got about one car and hour. Most of them was a park ranger going back and forth). Followed the San Benito river up. Got water at a fire station (the closest thing to a commercial establishement all day) Beautiful valley. Even some open range with no fences. Got my butt kicked on a pass but then it was all downhill to Coalinga. Followed Los Gatos creek down. Pulled off in a random spot to camp (no “no trespassing” signs). Nice to get clean by swimming in a creek.

Thursday (5/5). Started raining overnight. Oops. Made me realize how underprepared I am for that moisture stuff. Save on sunscreen, at least. Managed to keep moving. 20 miles down to Coalinga started getting a bit loopy. ‘Specially when I smelled all those oil pumps. The town itself was flooded and I had to ford about a foot of water to get to breakfast at “Perkos". But damn, that was a tasty omlette.

Now I’ve got an easy day an a half to get across the Central Valley. Gonna try to cross the mountains up by Lake Isabella and face the desert beyond. With all this moisture here, that sounds great.

Still haven’t figured out the camera upload procedure, but here’s a picture of my bike from a couple years ago. Looks much the same, except it’s kind of wet now:
Random

Ok, there’s been change in plans. Miraculously, it seems that all business has taken care of itself, and there’s nothing left to do in Berkeley. It’s time to go. I’ve shaved for the last time, and packed everything up. In an hour or so I hitch a ride over to Ocean Beach with Kathleen. Dip as much of Random in the water as seems prudent and then head south. Planning to take a relatively modest day and aim for Half Moon Bay.

Then further south along the coast. Somewhere around Monterey, cut inland toward Hollister, Pinnacles NP and south through the coastal range.

This is Ocean Beach last time I was there (that’s the Cliff House up on the hill):

I’ve got most of my things packed and stored away at Kathleen’s house. Front/rear racks, new chain, back tire and rearview mirror are installed on Random (my bike). 40 mile test ride this morning went without a hitch. So all systems are looking good.

36 hours to liftoff!

Now you can watch my progress in real time! The little map at the upper right hand corner shows which states I’ve made it through. Progress may be a bit slow at first. … All those monsterous western states! But I didn’t quite have the wherewithall to do it county by county.

Departure day: Tuesday, May 3. As soon as rush hour permits, I’ll be loading my bike on BART and crossing to the Civic Center stop. From there I ride west to to Ocean Beach where I’ll attempt to dip my tires in the water. Then I’m off! South along the coast toward Half Moon Bay and beyond.

Rig

• 1 bike
• front and rear racks
• 2 front and 2 rear paniers
• handlebar bag
• several bungee cords
• helmet
• odometer
• 2 water bottles and holders
• rear-view mirror
• U-lock
• (new tires, brake pads, chain)

Camping gear

• tent (with new stakes and to have seam-sealer reapplied!)
• dropcloth
• sleeping bag
• inflatible mattress
• headlamp
• little backpack
• sunscreen
• lip-protecting substance
• bug repellent
• sun glasses
• band-aids
• toothbrush, paste
• TP, trowel
• soap
• gauze, tape
• anti-bacterial cream
• ibuprofen (and something stronger if lucky)
• vasoline (against saddle soreness, really!)

Clothing

• 2 pairs of bike shorts
• legging bike-short extenders
• 2 synthetic biking shirts
• 2 pairs socks
• long-sleeved biking shirt
• gel-padded bike gloves
• poly-pro long-sleeved shirt
• long johns
• camp gloves
• wind/rain pants
• rain jacket
• fleece
• knit hat (thanks, k!)
• wool socks
• sandles
• normal shorts
• cotton t-shirt
• camp undies
• towel

Food supplies

• stove
• fuel tank
• lighter
• pot
• mug
• sharp knife
• spoon
• spices
• cooking oil
• sponge
• water pump/filter
• 2 2-liter water bladders

Tools & Spare Parts

• 6 inch crescent wrench
• metric allen keys
• stubby little 2-way Phillips/flathead screwdriver
• 3 tire levers
• chain tool
• spoke wrench
• 2 tube patch kits
• 2 spare inner tubes
• spare folding tire (700 x 32 c)
• brake cable
• derailleur cable
• 6 spare spokes (sized for both sides of rear wheel–I hope!)
• magic chain link
• chain lube
• duct tape

Civilized things

• book (The Odyssey) for read & trade (Thanks, t!)
• maps. many maps.
• camera
• cell phone (and charger!)
• journal
• pen
• stamps

Ooops. I guess a little planning is a good thing.

Turns out Tioga Pass is not going to be clear of snow for another month or two. So chances that my initially planned route will work are pretty slim. Tioga is the furthest pass to the south on the north end of the Sierra. There are a few passes slightly north (Monitor, Sonorra, …?) that may be clear, but that would take me a bit too far north (and chilly). Instead, I’m thinking swinging south and crossing the Sierras near Lake Isobella. I’ll probably follow the coastal range south for a while before crossing of the Central Valley near Bakersfield.

The departure date for my bike trip is approaching rapidly! Things are still on track for me to head east from San Franscisco on May 1.

I haven’t worked through all the details yet, but my basic route is solidfying: Head east from San Francisco and cross the Sierras through Yosemite. Cross Nevada somehow toward Arches NP in Utah. Head northeast through Idaho and Wyoming to Yellowstone. Then turn south east, through Chicago. And finally east at whatever pace is necessary to make it to Washington DC by June 15.