10.20.2010

Single Display Train Car in New Charleston & Loose Ends


So. I'm here, in Cleveland. I'm sittiing in my sister's nicely furnished livingroom within close proximity to a candy jar. I eat red meat once a day. If I wake up before ten, it is no more than a minute till I fall back asleep. I still ride my bike. I still look forward to that feeling after the lactic acid breaks downs and body and bike are more unified than the knee waiting in its socket wrapped in enough mucles to tear one, or get pretty close, and still be able to bike. I got a ride from Columbus to Cleveland. Was feeling moody the day I arrived in Columbus. Wanted to scream. And I was thinking, 'what is wrong with me?.' Turns out my eyes were watering. My knee wasn't swollen. It kinda itched. It also kinda stabbed and throbbed. Uh. Mind over matter is only helpful when the matter isn't the soft tissue of your knee ripping. I'm fine. Feel like a weenie for getting a ride. I was afraid I would permanently damage my knee otherwise. I've been riding about twenty miles a day. Have also been eating like a viking. Trying to see family and friends before I leave Cleveland. Saying my 'hellos, how're you?, you seem well, I'm just visiting, goodbyes.' Trying to plan the next six months of my life. Have a craigslist ride to Chicago tomorrow.

10.12.2010

The little Scum Bag that could







Still surprised that I'm doing this. I've almost done it. I'm in Columbus. I biked to Ohio. Now all I have to do is make it home. I'm really overwhelmed. Having a hard time forming sentences out of my thoughts. Here are some pictures of my feet. They helped get me here.

10.08.2010




Still here. Dropped this apple and felt great sympathy. Foraged walnuts. Met a man by the river and drank his Keystone Ice. Now in Eastern Standard Time zone. Reading the Twilight series. Feeling too much. Someone should stab Stephenie Meyers in the eye. Not that that would do anything. Looking feral. Smelling homeless. Which I am. Feel like circus music should burst from the bike. People stare. At my butt, mostly, which is looking phenominal these days.

10.05.2010

Oh Shit




It's cold. That's the Ohio River on the Illinois side. I slept in my sleeping bag under a picnic table that night. Stupid. I slept in a tent the next night. This proved to be a better decision. Feeling rested, although very cold, and am able to bike a full day. Desperately need tights (do not have pants or full tights) and full fingered gloves. Frost bite could be an issue. Thanks Kentucky.

10.03.2010

Signs without Maps




I'm in a room heated to roughly seventy degrees in a nicely decorated home in Murphysboro, Illinois. The bed I have been sleeping in has more than two pillows on it. My hosts have been accommodating and enjoyable. The dog mounted my head. That's what dogs do when they like you. Seems like Murphysboro has taken a liking to me as well. I've been stuck here waiting for my maps. I left them at my last stop in Farmington, Missouri, which is a hundred miles from here. I was pretty tired then. Was considering taking a train to Chicago. Was considering it. Felt like I was untying a knot with my head. Feel like I'm making the best decision (for myself). Feel like leaving my maps and being forced to rest was a gift. Or a sign. I was just exhausted. Now I have to push on. Thanks again Heather & Jared for the Murphysboro welcoming.

10.01.2010

Blog Log







Met some folks. Here are their blogs. One of you jerks I already knew, but the rest were strangers. I Feel a great affection for all you. You're amazing.












Zach & Jordan & Jeff http://biketocuba.com/



"What age are you Living in?"


some kid oggled out the window of an SUV. That was the first time someone talked shit. We were in Missouri. Granted, we look like the cast for a movie about inter-galactic adventures in the eighties. We're still fit and healthy and determined and why would you say that anyway? Passed this river a couple days ago. A tributary of the Mississippi perhaps. I liberated the Urtle that day as well. Felt like oppressor. Tried to think of a more native name for the Urtle, but don't know what turtles speak. Pulling hundred mile days through the Ozarks. Getting getting getting. there or going. And if you look real close you'll see a grasshopper.

9.28.2010

I'm in a Library in Missouri that prohibits Facebook usage











and have done sixty of the hundred miles I hope to bike. I'm kind of tired. Feel obligated to blog. Have met a couple other cyclists. Currently at the library with one of them. She has a blog. I'll post her blog when I take a better picture of her. She is eating lunch. I should not have interrupted her. Appears the food is going to spill from her mouth. I also met a Turtle, which I call by many names. It lives on the back of my bike. Last night it snuggled into my armpit while I slept. In about two hundred miles, my route deviates from the other cyclists. So it'll be me and Urtle. I've also included a picture of a man walking from the library. He shall be known as Missouri Walking. This is the last I saw of him, Missouri Walking.

9.25.2010

A Post About Places

So. I don't really talk about biking. This is a biking blog. I intend for it to be more about all the other stuff, leaving you to figure out the rest. Well. I'm tired. And I was going to call this blog post Blown Around Kansas. Feeling Blew. I did not. This is not a journal. So, in summation, I am feeling icky, and I'm going to talk about all the icky parts of the ride. First night I stayed in Haswell, Colorado. I was kind of creeped out. There were many abandoned buildings in the middle of a town with a pop. of a hundred. The next night I stayed in Tribune, Kansas. The town square played country music ALL NIGHT and the town was named after Horace Greeley, the agrarian socialist founder of the New York Tribune. Did I mention that country music played all night? Day three was Scott City. I tracked a demolition derby for hours, but never found it. Day four was Rush Center. I dumpstered pizza and steak here. Day five was Larned. Got stuck in 40 mph wind. This town was ok. I drank a Mickeys here. Day six was Hesston. More dumpstering here. Rode over a hundred miles that day. Got called an asshole for awhile as a motorists idled next to me on a dark road. Day seven was Toronto. The storm that brought the heat and wind for a week came in that night. I was under a pavillion at a campground. Was delivered fried fish around ten by another camper. Played on the unicycle of yet another camper. Great Camp. Day eight was Immanuel Lutheran Church. A parishoner stopped me on the road and drove me there. I had this whole church area to myself, so I walked around in my underwear and ate last weekends leftovers from the bakesale. Day nine will be, who knows. Pretty sure I'm breaking a fever. Mere miles from Missouri. So somewhere in Missouri. Wait. Today is day ten. I missed a day. I MISSED A DAY. I don't really miss that day. PS- I haven't found your fushia crayon yet Dewey.

9.23.2010

Does Anyone Read This?


If you do, say something. Uh. I'm alone in Kansas. The most engaging thing I do each day is find a library, and read part of a book in silence for a couple hours. Maybe ask me to find something, like a blue midget, and i'll take a picture of me and the blue midget. Here's a photo of an old motel sign. I like it. Do you?

9.22.2010

Mouthing Kansas







Yesterday was a great day in Kansas. There were trees and farms and grass and twenty miles of protected wetlands with oil rigs and I thought, 'gee. Kansas isn't all that bad.' I'm getting used to twenty mph crosswinds that are at times headwinds. I'm starting to enjoy these little towns in central Kansas with their trees and waving hands and smiles. And I'm loving these cows. I even said that out loud (perhaps because I've been alone for a week). I said, 'ohh. I love you cows.' Then later that day (my first hundred-mile-day since day one) I dumpstered deli beef sticks. Score. But what about the cows? Can I not love beef sticks and cows?

9.20.2010

I get it Kansas, it's like baren here or something







This is a cute sign. It's still windy. The towns are small, and not really that cute. The cowboys are oggling me. One of them tried to marry me off this morning. After learning that I'm the over ripened age of twenty-five, he recommended I hook up with a widow. This police station looks like a strip club.

9.17.2010

Another Tour




Did my first full day yesterday. 95 miles. stoked. Also found a lake to bath in and even out my tan. I'm going to push 100ish mile days till I'm out of Colorado.

9.15.2010

computors and blogging after the train




There may or may not be three posts similar to this one on the blog. Having a hard time. It may or may not be because of the train wine or because of the thirty hour ride where I met Tom. He rides a Schwinn Mirada and is a good guy. Somehow that photo came out blurry. Here's another one. I leave for my bus in an hour, and get to Pueblo, CO at three in the morning. It'll be a nice twenty mile ride until I find someone else to take fuzzy photos of.

9.13.2010

Oakland and Leaving


I've been home long enough to both, want to bike two thousand miles, and build a shack next to the garden in my backyard. It helps that I keep running into friends that are traveling as well. This is Bobby. He biked cross-country and is now biking (via motorcycle) down the Pacific coast. I met him in Colorado on my first tour. He had a freshly shaved mohawk and a Kona with a double on the front. It's nice to see travelers while I'm home. It's a reminder that home is just a place to feel good stopping. At this point, it seems like anyplace could be home. Maybe that's what I'm looking for, a new place to stop for awhile. Maybe that's what everyone traveling is looking for. Maybe Bobby answers that question in his blog. Check him out @ http://www.crocsandsocks.posterous.com/

8.30.2010

I had to get a library card in San Clemente even though I'm only using a computer and I'm pretty tired and just need to ride for a while then sleep


I'm tired. I've been smoking a lot. I'm pretty sure I could be a candidate for scurvy. I'm getting a ride back to Oakland tomorrow. Then I'm buying a train ticket to western Colorado. Then I'm biking to Cleveland. Then I'm going to get a ride to Chicago. First I need to sleep for a while and eats salads. Pretty sure the Canadians are in the same boat. They started in Vancouver, Canada and said the word 'eh' with emphasis. They also did the whole trip fixed. I'm not sure why they have their fingers like that. I rode with them for a couple days, mashed up hills, took smoke breaks, and drank too much. Feeling kind of nostalgic. Also pretty excited to shift into my granny gear without feeling like an asshole. Check out their website @ http://coastnocoast.com

8.26.2010

Blurrrr


My eyes have taken on rosey fractals. I can't see the scenery with my sunglasses on and the sand acts like sand flying into my eyes off trucks and trees and other stationary moving objects. I don't think it's from stress, but certain things appear more, like, in another dimension. This field was so orange it looked like I was on drugs. I wasn't. It was more orange than candy or coloring or any other marigold field I've ever seen. And some things are just like that. They are too vivid. And my eyes are still irritated, and I can't feel my left pinky, and I wasn't quite sure where those kids went that I met in Monterey. The Marigolds are orange. The feeling eventually comes back to the hands. I met them again outside of Santa Barbara.

8.24.2010

near creeks and other larger bodies of water

I've been sleeping near creeks and wasting my time by a large body of water, the Pacific, which isn't overwhelming me with any romantic notions of beauty. Nor am I filled with the transient idea of water moving indefatiguably. I just need somewhere to hang out. There's water everywhere. And every watery nook is beautiful. This place didn't even have a drinking fountain, just a creek. I almost drank from it, but the idea of peeing through my ass stopped me.

8.21.2010

New Tour on the One


I'm afraid my mother doesn't know about this one. For good reason. It's a harrowing ride with little to no shoulder and I'm broke. It seems like people can tell when you genuinely need help. Perhaps the only way to get help is to need it. I mean, really need it. I'm not sure if people help out of obligation. Telling themselves, 'this might be the last time someone sees her before she bikes off a cliff because it is dark and this road is winding and who knows what someone would do to her. She's all alone. She could get mauled by a mountain lion or my uncle Bill that drives this road a little too drunk a little too late at night.' This is how I met Cindy. I would've biked another twenty miles in the dark, but she chauffeured me to an inlet in the bay with all this nautical junk, some trailers, and some dogs. It looked gathered and organized by a tweeker. She was not a tweeker. She was house-sitting. The tweaker junk was rad. And she was lonely. And I listened. And then I left.

8.02.2010

August 2- Say Summit ten times fast










sounds like submit. I've summited six times in the past couple days. I will summit another time today. That's Nevada. I am also biking centuries across the state. Dan is going to bike centuries and some change. Why? A number of reasons. I'm not going to bother validating any of them. Dan is a beast. Dan is also a continuing member of the clean plate club and the eats-full-meals-instead-of-the-snacks-I usually-eat club. Bye Dan.








August 1- NEVADA


Entered into Nevada today.


















and the desert looks like this. Except there's lots of dirt and small shrubs, but the moutains are always in the distance, and every now and then you see a tree, like a big one, near some sort of abandoned structure with a wooden fence near it that looks like a trail of fallen dominos. I have decided my subconscious looks like the desert.

July 31- A New

I got a new touring partner, started a new map for a new state, and am donning a new accessory, further pushing me into the category of 'feral'. Before Ariel got on the GreyHound, we gave each other hair wraps. At the end of each is a feather from the genea hens at the Berkeley's house in Salida, CO (side note: I didn't wear spandex for a week because it was making me smell like plastic and sweat. Started wearing it again today, and the situation hasn't changed.) My new touring partner's name is Dan. Met him ten minutes after seeing off Ariel. He's British. He biked from Virgina. He's kind of a beast. In a good way.


This is Dan and myself hanging out in a pavilion in Milford, Utah, where we slept the first night. The sprinklers came on in the middle of the night and soaked our tents. WHY WERE THERE SPRINKLERS IN A PARK IN SW UTAH? This astounded us. So much so, that we turned into teenage girls (found this picture on a library computer in Ely, Nevada).

7.30.2010

Rest time

We made it. We finished 2 ACA maps and rode close to 1,000 miles. We ate probably 70,000 calories, saw at least 30 small towns, and met a ton of crazy and non-crazy people. I have tan lines on my legs, face, hands, and arms. Its pretty hawt.

Last night we camped at Panguitch Lake, halfway up our 10,000 + ft summit to Cedar Breaks Monument. It was incredibly beautiful up there, but I started to feel short of breath again. I don't really understand how I can acclimate in 3 days (in Denver), ride up to 11,000 on day 4 of bike tour, not descend below 5,500 for two weeks, and still feel short of breath at 8,000. Its like my body just doesn't understand the physics of mountains and lung capacity. I'm sure some doctor friend out there could illuminate this. Anyway, we made it here and its hott and feels great to rest a while.

Also, there's a number of things I've been thinking while I'm on the bicycle for hours and hours that I wanted to share with you:
1. Why is it that when you're not on biketour all you can think about IS biketour, and then when you ARE on biketour, all you can think about is eating icecream in a clean bed and watching bad movies on cable tv?
2. As one progresses through a number of climbs up hefty summits like we have, you would think you'd get stronger, more ready to tackle the next one. Your body is saying "more climbing, you're a beast!".
Wrong: As time progresses you may be getting stronger, but you also become more exhausted from the "barely sleep, unpack panniers, wake-up at 5, pack panniers, bike 8-10 hours, find place to sleep" cycle. I'm ready for a real rest.

And tomorrow on Greyhound will probably not be it. I'm signing off for now, Michelle is taking the reigns, I"ll be back in a week. Stay tuned!

July 30th- new heights



I'm really over caffeinated right now. Here's a photo of this place I biked past.

Here's another photo that was taken very close to place I took the initial photo.

This was taken at an altitude of eight-thousand feet. For some reason, at this exact height I start to feel altitude sickness. I get spinny, and numb, and nervous. We were going to climb to the top of whatever landmass we were set to climb, and couldn't because Krivanek can't handle altitude. Bummer. So we stopped after climbing about twenty-five-hundred feet, which isn't meager since we climbed fifteen-hundred additional feet earlier in the day. It's a good thing the climbs in Nevada only go to about eight-thousand.

I think the altitude is getting to my head. Why did I just drink coffee at 5 pm in ninety degree weather?

7.28.2010

Holy Boulder

Who knew a tiny town nestled below the Staircase National Monument would be the home to so many sweet young people who like touring cyclists? Boulder, Utah is like summer camp ALL YEAR ROUND. We woke up this morning surrounded by canyons and walked the half mile through a washed out muddy road back to our bikes that we left next to the cute hippie cafe.

We had the best pancakes 8 bucks could by this morning and proceeded up a mountain to this road called "the hogback". It's a 3 mile stretch with not much shoulder and often no guardrail surrounded by steep canyons on either side. Super scary and exhillerating at the same time to ride across. As the name so aptly describes, "the hogback" it the ridge of a mountain with views on either side for miles, of canyons upon canyons upon mountains. Utah is amazingly beautiful. Today I almost felt proud to be American. I always thought we destroyed the beautiful parts of our country for industry, capitalism perhaps got the better of our judgement in terms of natural resources. But the last few days in Utah have proved some of that incorrect.

Im sitting in a cafe in Escalante, left my camera cable in Torrey, bummer. Be in henrieville tonight. Hopefully it wont rain.

July 28- Boulder & precision


It has occurred to me that I never factor in numbers of any sort, such as, the date, the exact amount of miles we rode, elevation, calories in that brownie I just ate. This bike trip is an opportunity for me to allow numbers to have a narrative, take on another meaning, become the more than 500 calories of pure sugar, and into fuel for that mountain. So I am going to include more numbers (I just ate a brownie and assume it had around 500 calories, which will fuel me up the climb of about a thousand feet, which is on the shorter end of the what we climb at one in a day.)
I've also been hating on Utah. Sorry Utah. I mean it. You are the home of five national parks, and none of them are lame. By that I mean, none of them are just, like, parks where you might eat a sandwich wrapped in plastic with a friend who has a medium sized dog that chases after the frisbee. You have to climb to get to them. While you climb to the spot of your choosing, there are creeks, and it smells like pine, and a little like fruit candy, and all the drivers are polite, and the Europeans on their rented motorcycles wave or flash the peace sign (which is so nineteen-nineties). And you don't feel healed. You feel anointed.

7.27.2010

Torrey is my Haven

We made it through Capital Reef state park to Torrey yesterday. It was only 50 miles from Hanksville! Too bad we had to climb half a mountain to get to it. (yah, i said only half). (other half is today). Torrey is like a cute little town out of a storey book. We shelled out for a real room in a cute cabin off the main drag, (and by main drag I mean there's a general store and 3 restaurants, some motels and a lot of trees). And it was worth every penny. Most people stay in crappy motels because they don't plan to spend much time in the actual room. Michelle and I used every hour up in that room watching bad cable tv in our towels and eating oreos. I got a serious amount of sleep (10+ hours), a swim, free breakfast, and a hot shower.

Torrey looks like something out of Robinson Crusoe. Thanks for the peace Torrey. If only you had fruit in your general store. We're on to Boulder, Utah next. It's supposed to be similarly cute, and much cooler. Hopefully we won't get caught in the lightning storm (mom-disregard that).
Stay tuned for future updates and thanks for following our journey!

Dead Stuff

Next Stop: Hanksville. Hanksville was far from "Danksville" except for that awesome burger shack. All I can say is I got attacked by mosquitos and slept terribly. Oh and ate a sandwhich that almost make me puke called " A big Az sandwhich". no joke. It was big. It had 2 eggs and bacon and sausage and cheese in it. Almost like a manwhich. The food situation in Utah has become dire.

I wanted to illuminate those who don't traverse the highway via bicycle as to what's often on the side of the road in Colorado and Utah. You got your normal stuff like beer cans, soda cans, candy wrappers, and dirty undies, and then you got your dead stuff. Dead deer, squished squirrels, skunks, snakes, rabbits, lizards, etc. Then you got your usable stuff like bungee chords and unopened boxes of donettes. I have yet to find a pot of gold or something of any real value, but in pre-bonking fantasy land, I'm wishing for a pegasus bearing icecream. So can someone make that happen? Next time I pass a pile of bones, I promise to stop and grab some for those bone necklaces Michelle and I keep talking about.

100's of hundreds

We've been "in the sticks" so to speak and haven't had access to the world wide web via computer or our handy touch phones. We rode 100 miles from the small town of Montisello to
Natural Bridges state park (50 miles)- then to lake powell (50 more miles). It was extremely hott. There was no shade, but okay, it was pretty. We made it to the park in time to take cover from a serious rain storm and the nice ranger gace us matches to make coffee on our camping stove outside the visitor center. Many a German tourists stared.

Then we rode to Lake Powell. Holy Hott! I've been there before, but only by airconditioned vehicle. Dang. Thank the lord we got there as the sun was setting and there was a large body of water to swim in. Night swimming is better than daytime swimming. Nothing but rocks and the sky and the current, oh yah and that Effing spotlight of a moon that kept waking me up. We slept in the desert. Everytime I woke up, I kept thinking "turn off that damn streetlight, oh wait. thats the moon". You never think about how the moon rotates the earth like the sun. This was the first time I ever really thought about it. I woke up and it was north of me, then above me, then south of me. That streetlamp kept moving. Needless to say, it was more like moonwatching than sleep. I'm glad I experienced it.

Oh Torrey



Torrey is a little gem in the middle of the petrified turd known as Utah (a note from future Michelle, I'm going to take this back really soon). It is so incredible, it has changed the way I ride. Why wear a tiny bike cap with a small brim, when I can wear this?


Torrey has had such a profound effect on Ariel, that she has decided to scrap cycling altogether, sit on this chair, and read for the rest of her life.