Braze-On Lookers

A new

2012-02-16T16:29:00.002-08:00

A new bike tour along the Southern Tier. I first mentioned this tour to other cyclists in 2010. Perhaps actually doing it will make me look more committed to serious life choices. I leave Chicago in April/May. Then I'll travel home to Cleveland for the blessings of my loved ones. Cleveland, a town of tallish building and many of my family members who I'd like to see before I leave for(ever?) a long time. After Cleveland, I'm going to New Orleans, where I'll have letterpress access, and will make and make and make. I've currently been working on personal maps. I've mostly been tracing old city maps and inserting text. While on tour, I'm going to make intimate maps of the places I stay. These will become small, 3 x 3 inch, books of no more than a couple pages- compact, private, informational. I'm going to sell these books to cover the cost of bike tour. And who knows, maybe I'll make a large multi-state map. For now, I'm working on intersections. To the right is a flier I made for an upcoming poetry reading at my house. It's my intersection and other geography.

I sincerely apologize.

2011-11-10T19:31:00.000-08:00

It's been a while. I meant to say something earlier. I didn't want to interrupt. Or to make this awkward. I've been busy. You'd like the other things. Maybe I should've told you about them. I mean. Maybe. You don't really mind, right? I had that bike job. I just got fired. Have been living at a space with people and shows and such. I just don't want this to be weird. Did a race. We got drunk instead of going to the afterparty. Yeah. Same old, same old. I mean, we didn't get drunk. We just had a couple drinks. Who wants to sit in a super-sized lot on the north side when you want to go home, slip into your sleeping bag infront of the space heater, and wait for a cat to find you? We're all caught up. Except, I'm leaving Chicago soon, and I want to see you before I go. There's a reading/show. I'll be reading from a piece. It's not about you. It's newer. See you then.

http://www.facebook.com/events/#!/event.php?eid=204220006312957

I was biking over the River and that guy by the Metra

2011-03-03T14:42:00.000-08:00

station was drumming on a bucket something drum-buckety, hollow from the material but quick because that's how the drum bucket guys play, and he said something about Rahm Emmanuel. There were all these people herding toward the train out of the loop. I was with them. Not in a train car or on the sidewalk, but I was commuting out of the loop in the same direction that they were commuting out of the loop. And thought something wistful like, I live here, or, I'm here now. That feeling was short lived. I fall out with this place a lot. I need to work on the relationship. I try new things. I stay away from the things that make me stray. I even got a bike job. A job on a bike. And like other jobs, it pays. Also like other jobs, it pays poorly. Feel like I'm losing it to a thing that's not there, a sentiment, an idea of location. Feel like I thought I would come here and just be here. Instead I've been me and also here. The sun was shining yesterday. That was nice. There was a race last Saturday. That was nice. I got lost and unlost a lot. I placed second to last. Second to totally losing it. There is no valor in second to last. There's a race this coming Saturday, and I'm going to do it because eventually I will know where I'm going. When I know where I'm going, I'll be able to navigate myself out of here.

cool.

2011-01-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

With the inception of the word fixie, came a twisted mouth and the loss of coolness. It was cool, right? Like slap bracelots in the nineties, pulled off the market because they were cutting writsts. Cool like pogo sticks, or neon, or powdered sugar flavored like a fruit. What makes cool, cool (I realize it is very uncool to investigate this. Although I'm pretty sure uncool is cool)? The Online Etymology Dictionary says the verb kele was used by Shakespeare, but has been assimilated to an adjective. Cool was used in 1728 to give emphasis to large sums of money. In 1825 it was used to mean "calmly audacious" (the website doesn't cite where this occured). This brings us to the current usage of the word cool, popularized by the jazz saxophonist, Lester Young, to mean "fashionable".

People who have fashion are noted by it. They are fashionable. They are able to determine if a thing or a person is also fashionable. Not everyone is fashionable. It is something to covet and something that lurks. The word fixie plops out of the mouth, and may come with spittle, depending on your palate. It is not secret or stealth or fashionable. It is commonly used. This does not make it fashionable. Rather, this makes it -un.

I bought a Mercier Kilo TT because it was cheap. I put my brooks on it, detaped and degooed the bars, and replaced the clipless pedals. I had to tape one of the nylon straps to prevent the buckle from hitting the crank arm. My whip is kind of sweet. It's also kind of hip. Whatever. I don't have anything to prove. I'll be the chick discreetly doing trackstands, pretending not to see who's looking.

And look at that beer! It's at walgreens with an abv of 4.5. Pretty sure that's cool.

new year, new post

2011-01-20T10:14:00.000-08:00

I'm still here Chicago. Not going anywhere. Just waking up every weekday for my customer service job that I need to shower and wear clean clothes for. Then I answer five part questions presented as one part questions by someone who really couldn't give a shit how polite I am, but I figure, it's my job to be polite. I'm servicing the customer, which sounds elicit. It's not. I would make more money if it was. I wasn't making any money while I was stinky and terse and homeless. With the completion of 365 days, we call it a new year, and it is. It's a new year. Thank God and thank not. 2010 was the year that I would/wouldn't ever want to repeat. Too many firsts and lasts. I made amense with all my exes of the past couple years. It just happened. Who cares. I guess I do. Not about them being exes. It's just an example of beginnings and ends. I needed completion. I felt renewed. I feel renewed, but not like before. Again, I'm living in Chicago with my sister. That's her pictured. Imagine us getting ready to go out on a Friday night. I'm sitting somewhere in the small but nicely tiled bathroom with a setup similar to many others in Chicago. There's a shower/tub, sink, and toilet, with enough room leftover to fit shelving underneath appliances or stacked up walls. Hygiene products expose the tenet. Imagine that after my sister applies the last strike of blush to my cheek, she pronounces the word "perfect". Imagine that I look really pleased by this, but more delighted than just pleased. I look pretty and nice and ready. Wherever I am going, I have never arrived. We never do that. On Friday nights, we're on the couch watching a new sci-fi mini series from netflix broadcasting from the TV that Christina has named our "new brother". She says 'ew' everytime I fart, and complains when her cats sit closer to me than to her. I get a little drunk on cheap wine, but make sure to eat with the antibiotics I take for my skin. That's Friday folks. I still bike about ten miles a day. I still read a couple hours a day. I still think about the writing I should be doing daily. I still think about biking mountains. I'm fixing up a Mercier to ride fixed. I miss track stands and stinking and hills. I thought I'd get over that stuff. I thought I'd become someone who liked to wakeup and jog. Instead I think about calling someone to go out, but sit at home on the fart couch watching global domination by robots. I'm flying to Oakland in mid-March to sleep in a tent in my old backyard.

Single Display Train Car in New Charleston & Loose Ends

2010-10-20T11:48:00.000-07:00

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.

The little Scum Bag that could

2010-10-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-10-08T13:42:00.000-07:00

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.

Oh Shit

2010-10-05T13:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Signs without Maps

2010-10-03T05:27:00.001-07:00

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.

Blog Log

2010-10-01T10:07:00.000-07:00

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.

Cari http://squidonabicycle.blogspot.com/

Charles http://ghostofphaedrus.tumblr.com/

Taylor http://tdrouetcoast2coast.blogspot.com/

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

"What age are you Living in?"

2010-10-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

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.

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

2010-09-28T13:35:00.000-07:00

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.

A Post About Places

2010-09-25T10:02:00.001-07:00

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.

Does Anyone Read This?

2010-09-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

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?

Mouthing Kansas

2010-09-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

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?

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

2010-09-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

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.

Another Tour

2010-09-17T10:57:00.001-07:00

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.

computors and blogging after the train

2010-09-15T20:49:00.000-07:00

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.

Oakland and Leaving

2010-09-13T12:08:00.000-07:00

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/

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

2010-08-30T11:16:00.000-07:00

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

Blurrrr

2010-08-26T17:10:00.000-07:00

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.

near creeks and other larger bodies of water

2010-08-24T08:57:00.000-07:00

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.

New Tour on the One

2010-08-21T14:11:00.000-07:00

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.

August 2- Say Summit ten times fast

2010-08-02T14:38:00.001-07:00

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

2010-08-02T14:24:00.001-07:00

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

2010-08-02T14:05:00.000-07:00

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).

Rest time

2010-07-30T16:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-30T16:31:00.000-07:00

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?

Holy Boulder

2010-07-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

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.

Torrey is my Haven

2010-07-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-27T11:48:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-27T11:37:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-27T11:27:00.000-07:00

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.

Hanks for nothing, Hanksville

2010-07-27T11:03:00.000-07:00

Literally, nothing. There's a dirty river, a couple gas station (one is a "hollowed out mountain," but more like a large rock that happens to cover a convenient store) to get groceries, and an unfinished park. We slept in the unfinished park.

We snuck into the RV park across the street and used the shower. Apparently, almond Dr. Bronner's is a mosquito attractant. We ran, slapping ourselves, over to the half finished park, put up the tent, took sleeping pills, and woke up many times to the sound of moving gravel.

Date-Up

2010-07-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

I keep calling Utah, Iowa in my head, which I feel reflects on my ideas of both states. Or because the only book I have, Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson, which I have read twice now, is set in Iowa. Anyway. We slept at Lake Powel during the Morman Fourth of July, AKA, Founders Day. No one set off fireworks, or even a single bottle rocket out of some drunk guys pants.

Nice fourth of July, Mormans. Not only do you not know how to get festive, but your beer sucks. By request, I bought a Polygamy Porter, and it tasted like smokey water. THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE BEER IN THIS BEER. You just can't have a porter with an ABV of 4.0. As I have told Ariel, the beer tastes too hydrating to drink. I'll be drunk, I mean, in Nevada in a week.

Side note- Lake Powel is a hundred dregree plus during the day, and at least twenty degrees cooler at night. We went night swimming. I just kinda floated on my back and fought a current a bit, kicking my legs every now and then. There aren't as many stars in utah as I thought there'd be. Instead, the moon is a spot light. It's weird. Can anyone explain that?

Easy Peasy

2010-07-23T15:54:00.000-07:00

I"m officially blogging in addition to Michelle. Two heads and hearts might paint a more thorough picture of this adventure.

Yesterday was amazing, as Michelle said already, after climbing about 1,000 ft to lizard head pass and getting our pictures taken by some "real bikers", (they're everywhere- huge gangs of loud stinky motorcyclists, but they like us and flash us the peace sign when they pass us so it's okay) we had almost 45 miles of downhill into the tiny town of Dolores, Colorado- about 30 miles from the Utah border. With a population of close to 700, it was quite quiet and quaint. It was so nice to relax after dealing with 10 mile long hills and thunder storms. We happened to intercept 3 other touring cyclists who came from the west and headed to the east. We exchanged stories and tips, and watched them do push ups and talk about sketchy campsites. They also have a blog. It was nice to wake up at 530am and see 3 other sleepy heads in the kitchen this morning leaning over bowls of cereal and cliff bars. Side note: Our gracious host was super wonderful and accommodating and owned a number of ferrets who began to nibble at my toes while I sat, which I found amusing.

Today we headed out for a short 57 mile ride today. Just a few rollers, but I met a roadie in his seventies who was emulating the miles of the tour. For today's stage he was riding 136 miles, and had been doing this since the tour started! He barely asked me where I was headed or what I was doing, but that's okay we need guys like this inspire us to ride centuries back to back to back in our seventies.
So we landed in Monticello (pronounced 'Montisello'). With a tip from the chicks we get to sleep next to some real chicks in this cafe owner's yard. Horah! We got in so early today I even got a nap in. Might drink some wine, take a swim and do it all over tomorrow. What a day

Tomorrow's destination is Natural Bridges State Park

Hello, Monticello

2010-07-23T15:37:00.000-07:00

We are in Monticello, Utah. That's right. We biked through the state of Colorado. It took us 500 miles, thigh blisters, and a bug bite of some sort that Ariel puts "salve" on. In order to commemorate our entrance, I put a little something on the ol' Hillborne.

What's the difference between straw and hay?

2010-07-22T17:53:00.000-07:00

We didn't climb a twenty foot stack of straw outside Montrose.

Tellyourride We'll See You Later

2010-07-22T17:11:00.000-07:00

There've been all sorts of bad puns on Telluride. What do you call Telluride in the winter, Tellurglide. What do you call Telluride at the end of an argument, Tellurwrong. There really isn't a supreme Telluride pun yet. They're all bad.

So Telluride happens to be beautiful, much like every other mountain town we've encountered. The difference between Telluride and most of those other towns, is that Telluride is full of healthy athletic white people, which is alarming. I'm not sure why, and am generally not comfortable around people that look like they're succeeding in being earnestly happy. I mean, they win. That's the point of life, right? To be happy, and beautiful, and wear breathable-hundred-dollar-mesh-long-sleeve shirts. And to be caucasion. I'm pretty sure that's apart of happiness. A happiness that I'd never measure up to. I mean, how could I. I'm thinking about all this while climbing Lizard Head Pass, blissing out. The thousand foot climb looks like it's about to end, and when it doesn't, I think, 'thank you. I am so blessed to be able to climb this beautiful mountain.' And I realize that I'm white, in athletic clothing, mostly muscled and tan. Despite the evidence, I don't think Telluride would let me in their club.

Less Sleep than Summit

2010-07-21T16:32:00.001-07:00

If I don't start getting more than six hours of sleep a night, I'm going to scream. I'll do that thing that the people in the park with the matted hair and pet rodents do. That is, I'm going to randomly accuse strangers of whatever, or ask them for money. While one sounds cathartic, the other seems resourceful. I'm not sure which is which. We were climbing another huge landmass today, and I started thinking, 'multiple personality seems like a really reasonable way to cope.' Instead of doing something completely harmful, you retreat to another self. I was very close to retreating somewhere during our ten mile thousand foot climb.

at this place

2010-07-20T21:34:00.001-07:00

And I hopped in this truck

2010-07-20T21:30:00.000-07:00

I Stole a Shirt Too

2010-07-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

Rim the Rumble Strip

2010-07-20T21:02:00.000-07:00

Did more climbing and descending today. It was also around a hundred degrees today. I got a little more red-turning-into-a-tan today. Ran into the rumble strip a handful of times today. Broke into an abandoned motel today.

My First Post

2010-07-19T20:28:00.000-07:00

So. Hello. I'm going to update you on the tour. I've been blogging on Facebook, which I'll continue to do. Although this will be a way to rant in a little more detail. Here's the recap:

July 15

Dear Denver, thanks for the lesson in lung capacity. nude midnight swimming in the creek with the villa villa kula house was nice. I owe you a punch in the lungs.

July 16

Dear Colorado Springs, you accomodated us like the south platte river trail accomodates retirement communities.We were housed well, were given a guided tour of the area, but were surprised by your need to be the home of right wing military officials. Sorry to that old lady with the visor that didnt see me on the path. Thanks for the 80 mile ride. XOXO-Michelle K

July 17

Dear Canon City, you are the lush home of seven prisons, one of which is maximum security, and a river that freely flows over rocks and knocks down small children. You are also oppresively hot at 102 degrees. Thanks for accommodating Ariel, myself, and seven other cyclists in the backyard of Spencer's bike shop. The fi...fty mile ride was worth the river alone. XOXO- Michelle K

July 18

Dear Salida, we found you along the arkansas river seated fifty some odd miles from our last stop. you gave me a free cup of coke. i believe there`s a coke song about giving the world a free beverage. i can assure you that the world would be a better place. thanks for letting us sleep in that barn. XOXO -Michelle

July 19

Dear Gunnison, WE CLIMBED A MOUNTAIN TO GET TO YOU. and what do you give us in return? forty miles of head wind. You have convinced Ariel that there were human pelvis bones on the side of the road. You can`t fool me Gunnison. I am not swayed to delirium by your coquettish mountain charm. The 70 mile ride seemed like a test. of what? i`ll get back to you on that, Gunnison. XOXO -Michelle K