On Saturday September 19th I rode into the Atlantic Ocean completing my bicycle trip from Portland, OR to Portland, ME. The trip took me a total of 3 months and 7 days, however I was only riding for 60 of those days. My total mileage was just over 4800 miles leaving me with an average of 80 miles per day, the high end of my original goal.
Before leaving I wrote some of my expectation in the blog:
Chaffing - I think that is an understatement
A few bad stomach aches - I only had 1 stomach ache but it was REAL bad!
Weight loss - I gained 5-10lbs and I finally have an ass that can hold up my pants without a belt.
Sunburn - Check. I also have the best farmer's tan in the world on my thighs.
Adventure - See previous 30 pages.
There are several questions that everyone seems to ask me:
What was the best part:
Even compared to all of the beautiful sights, interesting towns, and the joy of riding with a tailwind, the people that you meet are easily the best part of the trip. A fellow tourist said to me, "If you want to hear about all of the bad shit and terrible people in the world, read the newspaper or watch the news. If you want to meet some of the friendliest people in the world take a bike tour." I found this to be true everywhere I traveled. Sure there are always the jerks that pass as close as they can to you, and the idiots that shout things at you as they drive by, but for the most part everyone else is very kind. The best times were when people would take me into their homes, help me out when the unexpected happened, or just friendly conversation. It is surprising how much you look forward to any bit of human interaction when you are traveling alone.
Aside from the people, I would say the little pleasures in life were the best part. Things like a cool breeze and an ice cold Pepsi in the middle of a hot day, finding a place that will satisfy that ice cream craving you have had for the past 40 miles, a tail wind as your climbing a big hill, and of course, the rare moments when you manage to step out of bike touring mode and fully appreciate the world around you. I can list several specific examples of this, but my favorite was probably the first time it happened. On my 3rd day of riding, just after the sun broke through the rain clouds and I finished climbing my first really big hill of the trip(I believe it was called Mt. Manzanita), I stopped to look out at the Pacific Ocean and a small town below. Alone, sitting on the edge of this hill looking out at the sight in front of me, I felt a deep sense of appreciation for where I was, what I was about to do, and everyone that had encouraged and supported me. I remember feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. It was almost as if I was content stopping right then and there...but that couldn't happen. Another part of the trip that I loved was realizing that as others were busy dealing with the daily grind, while I was leisurely rolling through a remote part of the country with no obligations other than enjoying life and the world around me.
What was the hardest part of the trip:
Being isolated from the world and night. Before leaving, I remember being excited to be in the middle of nowhere all by myself. It was enjoyable. Some of my favorite times on the trip were when I was riding solo through Nowhere, USA, but that time only lasted until I had to get off the bike or stop riding for the night. Stopping in an empty campground or park and sitting alone night after night leaves much to be desired. Reading, writing, and updating a blog can only entertain for a short while. When you have empty hours each night and nobody around you become anxious for human interaction and in a weird way, frustrated with yourself. Some of the loneliest and most painful nights of my life were experienced on this trip, and not for any reason other than loneliness. Going to bed hopeful to talk or spend time with someone and finishing the next day without much more than a, "Hi there," is depressing to say the least. The first nights alone after riding with someone or taking a day (or 3 weeks) off and seeing family and friends were the hardest. Once you get used to being alone, you don't realize how out of touch you are and you forget about the loneliness. Physically, a solo bike tour is very easy; almost everyone can ride a bike and touring is just about persistence. Its only a matter of time before you get where you're going. Mentally/Emotionally though, bike touring is the most challenging thing I have ever done. We spend our entire lives learning how to fit into society, but rarely choose or even have a chance to spend days at a time isolated from the world. It was an especially drastic change for me, coming straight out of college where I was constantly surrounded by my best friends and in a place that became as familiar as the room I grew up in, then all at once I was alone in a part of the country that I had never been to. Its like preparing for a silent retreat by partying and going out to clubs, it is a refreshing welcome change at first and then just becomes scary. I guess the inverse would be preparing for a marathon by reading and discussing running for weeks. I have to thank everyone that was following my blog, keeping in touch with me, and supporting me in anyway along the ride, without you or the knowledge that you were supporting me, I would never have made it. Seriously, thank you!
What would you have done differently:
I would have trained more, found a riding partner, bought beefier wheels, brought a smaller tent, brought more money, brought something to play music on, picked out sites that I wanted to see and researched towns before visiting them.
To everyone I told I had been training prior to my start, I am sorry to say that I lied to you. I was NOT in shape before I left for Portland and the first few days proved that. My muscles ached a deep ache and for the first week or more I had a hard time standing up in the morning...seriously. The only real training I did before leaving was a 35 mile ride with no weight and and 66 mile ride with just the back panniers the 2 days before I left on the train. I did manage to get in shape pretty quick, as anyone would if the only thing you did was ride your bike, but it was not a sweet time.
The lonely times were rough and the time riding with people passed the miles much faster. I would definitely find someone to ride with on the next trip. Riding alone is a learning experience but a lesson you don't need to learn more than once.
I broke more spokes and wheels than I had flat tires. I did not meet a another person touring that had broken a single spoke or had any real trouble with their wheels, but I had at least 50 lbs on all of them and I like to think that I ride harder than most(Machismo!!!). Valid explanation or not, breaking a wheel or spoke has a special way of ruining your day. Next time I will ride with motorcycle wheels if I have to, but I do not want to repair/replace anymore wheels.
The tent I brought was a 3 person dome tent that I had from before I planned my trip. I figured it was big enough to throw my stuff in if I needed to and I didn't see a single person tent that I thought I would fit in without having to curl up. Truth was, I touched either end of the 3 person tent even when laying on a diagonal and I never brought more than a book and a extra layer in the tent with me. The extra space just turned into extra weight and probably contributed to my wheel troubles.
Concerning money. Being unemployed and a recent grad, money was in limited supply. All I have to say about this is thank you for all of the generous graduation gifts and I couldn't have finished (or made it more than half way) without you Mom and Dad! Thank you!
I missed music. I had some music on my phone, but using the speaker drained the battery fast and finding places to charge it was as easy as finding a comfortable way to sit on the chaffing sores that, like water, covered 8o percent of the surface area of Uranus...or Myanus. Thank God for Chammie butter and padded bike shorts and damn me for thinking I could make it through the trip without them. Butt seriously, music would have been nice.
I crossed the country, visited 17 states, and aside from The Grand Tetons and the filming site of the Goonies had no idea where I would be passing through. I am sure that I passed some interesting historical sites or other random things that I would have been interested in, but I had no idea what was around me at any given time. With more research on where I was traveling, I feel that I would have had a better feel for the places that I rode through.
Was it what you expected:
Yes...to the 10th power. Everything seemed exaggerated. The good times were amazing and the bad time were MISERABLE. The climbing and headwinds were endless and the fulfilled food cravings were bliss. The country is a lot bigger than I ever imagined and stereotypes of people and places generally seem true. The West is massive and the people are accepting and considerate. The Midwest was boring but definitely had the friendliest and most accommodating people. The East is beautiful and full of itself. The common assumption that the wind generally blows West to East is false. From the start of Kansas to the Atlantic, I recorded only 7 days with a tailwind, and 2 of them were days I was riding North. Myth Busted!
What did you think about:
Yes, there is a LOT of time to think. You think about anything and everything but mostly nothing at all. Certain images might bring up memories of family and friends, familiar sights, and home, but for the most part you think of absolutely meaningless stuff. You make plans in intricate detail of what you will do, create and recreate experiences, and talk to yourself in every different voice you can make. I have planned every single detail of the house that I want to build someday and imagined how German's would perceive me different if I was David Hasselhoff. I have decided that if I was a superhero I would be Omega Red, picking up chicks (and life in general) would be a whole lot easier if I had a UPS uniform, my favorite food is donuts, Pepsi, boxer-briefs, if I had a million dollars I would go to the Zoo, my biggest fear is being paralyzed, this bike trip is the craziest thing I have ever done, and I share the nickname "Big Red," with 1% of the people on the planet, I am an endangered species, if I could be a mythical creature I would be a Gargoyle or a Gryphon, and finally, after much deliberation, my bike's name is Wilson. Yes this is a cliche name for the bike but I really like it.
Since I have completed what I set out to do, this will be my last post. I realize that many of you will have to find new things to read and ways to kill time at work, sorry. I will be joining you soon...I hope. That being said, I am selling a 2008 Jamis Aurora with just under 5000 miles on it. Thank you to everyone who has been following my blog and keeping up with me, I would have quit after the first week if it wasn't for you.
Billy Thorpe: For helping me to tune and clean Wilson before leaving
Keith Kleinfeldt: For telling my mother that I would be fine riding alone
Jerry Cuzella: For convincing my Mom that I would not be attacked by a bear
Bob and Claire Weaver and Hannah Callahan: For the amazing send off
Kathryn Redmond and Christie Costello: For a surprise package full of bricks...I mean books
Ed Kranz: For keeping encouraging me to keep riding
Chris in Eugene: For putting me up for a night
Gabe, Clay, and Tyler: for keeping me sane through Idaho
Barb, Steve, and Emma Kerr: For putting me up and the great advice on bike shorts and Chammie butter
Hyde Park Bike shop: Wheel set #2
Mike, Andrea, Kyle, and Cash in Lander, WY: For the most fun I have ever had with a bunch of strangers
Deedah: For finding my missing blog posts
Dorf: for the stove and headlight
Tim: for the pillow and the book
The Etzkorn Family: for a few delicious meals and a warm bed
Kevin, Fink, and Berg: for showing me all that St. Louis has to offer
Patty and Terry: for the cold beers and showing me egg and cheese sandwiches
Francis and Kevin: for the peaches
Kate McShea: for a fun weekend and taking me around to restock
Hannah and Jordan: For putting me up for a night
Ann and Stu: For the night's stay and helping me find a wheel
Keith: for letting me camp in your yard
Joy, Bill, and Tilly: For the hot dinner and restful sleep that carried me through till the end.
Most importantly thank you to my entire family and all of my friends for supporting and encouraging this ridiculous idea. I really would not have made it without all of you. I realize that my parents are included in that last group, but thank you to my mom Karin and my dad Charlie who were there for me in the through all of the good and bad and made sure I had the everything I needed to be successful on my trip.
Finally...I need a job. If anyone can find use for a fit and determined college grad, or knows of someone that can - Trucc903@gmail.com or (630)303-1635
I may even be willing to shave my beard...
I love you all!
Sincerely,
The Red Rider
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Final Days
Just before crossing the border into New York, we (Michael and I) came across a couple riding with trailers. We stopped to talk with Katee and Bob who were just beginning their trek from Rochester, NY to Portland, OR. We were shocked that they were starting their first bike touring trip so late in the year, but the shocking news continued. They were on their way to Erie, PA that night (after going through Erie, it is not the kind of town you would want to find a yourself camping in) and when I suggested that they might not want to camp their, they said they were going to call an old friend that they hadn't talked to in a couple years and try to stay with them...Bold. Finally they said that they started the trip with two dogs! I can't imagine riding with more stuff than I have, let alone more stuff that is for an (most likely) unappreciative, non-pedaling, drooling member of the trip. I will never be a Sherpa for my dog. To top it off, the dogs were 40 and 80 lbs!!! There is a thin line between bold and stupid. Katee and Bob tripped over that line when they began the trip with the dogs. They stumbled through the first 2 days when they realized it wouldn't work out with the dogs and finally caught their balance again when they sent them home. You can read about the adventures of Bob and Katee here: http://pedalingwestwithdogs.blogspot.com/
Recently I have been using warmshowers.org to find a place to stay. Its a directory/network similar to couchsurfing.com; people place profiles and contact info online and you can send them an email requesting to stay with them for a night. During one of my stays with someone from Warmshowers.org, I was hanging with a guy I will call Larry. Due to the nature of his actions I will not give his real name or where he lives. Before heading to the grocery store he asked if anyone needed anything. "Really anything at all, I don't pay for it, so if you need it, say so." To which I replied "what do you mean, you don't pay for it? You just steal it?"
"Yeah."
"You just walk out of the store or what?"
"Yep. Well, you can only do it at this specific store, because the doors aren't behind the registers. Also, my girlfriend used to work there and said that the workers are instructed specifically not to do anything except go find or call a manager if they suspect someone is stealing."
It turns out that Larry has not paid for a single item of food in the past 8 months! I had to see this to believe it, so I went with him. Just like he said, he just went and picked up the things he needed and walked out casually as if nothing was wrong. The security guard behind the registers didn't notice and neither did the cashiers, the guy mopping the floor, the cart boys, or the guy in front of the building on his smoke break who looked like the MOD. It wasn't just little stuff either, Larry walked out with a full weeks worth of food: juice, eggs, fruits and vegetables, spaghetti, cereal and even a 6 pack. When I asked him if he felt bad about it or if he thought it was wrong, he replied, "nobody is hurt by what I do except the corporation that owns that store. Yes, stealing is wrong, but its not like the people working in the store aren't going to miss next months rent as a result." I am simply impressed that it has been 8 months and nobody has noticed or done a thing. This is another scenario that flirts with the Bold vs. Stupid line.
About 40 miles outside of Rochester, while riding with Michael, we had a bit of a collision. We were riding side by side when my back panniers (bike bags) linked up with his front panniers, some how causing him to wipe out and me to get pushed off of the rode. As I looked back to find him on the ground, I saw a car miss hitting him in the head by about a foot or 2. Even after swerving the car just drove away, didn't stop to see if he was alright or anything. Aside from a sore wrist, Michael was uninjured. I was fine as well but I found out later that my bike took the hit for me. I managed to crack a second rim sometime during the crash, leaving me with 40 miles to the nearest bike shop on one terribly out of true wheel. 40 miles is a long time with a crooked wheel. During the ride to the bike shop/Rochester I was listening for more cracking and rode as cautiously as possible, fearing the wheel would fold in half at any minute. Despite my worrying, I made it into town just fine. We had been contacting people on warm showers the day before and had managed to secure a place to stay for the night in Rochester. When we arrived at the house we would be staying at, we received a warm welcome by Ann and Stu. They were a very friendly and hospitable people. Ann's son did his first bike tour this summer and she has signed up to host people to ensure good karma. As soon as we arrived, Stu took me over to a bike shop to see about a new wheel. The nearest place only had one wheel and it looked as if I could destroy it in about 3 miles of casual riding. Noticing my hesitation, Stu offered to check out a couple other places. We called up a couple other shops and all of them were closed. We went back to the house to eat a wonderful dinner and a homemade cherry pie for dessert. It was great! Every time that I have stayed with people on this trip I am surprised by how generous they are. I woke up the next morning to a fresh hot cup of coffee and a gloomy, rainy autumn sky. Coffee tastes best and has the most noticeable effect when you haven't had it in about a week. The last time I had coffee before this was in Cleveland nearly a week before, so it was a welcome treat. Just before the stores opened up, Ann and Stu took us out for a delicious breakfast, which was followed by trips to other bike shops. Eventually we found a shop with a strong rim but the wheel would have to be rebuilt, which would take a day. Stu and Ann put us up for another night and I was able to do exactly what I had wanted to do after waking up that morning, sit around and watch TV.
Along the ride in NY I kept seeing signs that said "blind person area" or "deaf person area." For some reason every time that I saw one of these signs, I imagined blind and deaf people walking around in big open fields. In my head, the deaf people were always playing tag or games that blind people would be terrible at. Meanwhile the blind people were talking smack about the deaf and trying to convince them to go to the pool so they could play Marco Polo or some other game that deaf people would be terrible at. I want to see a conversation between a blind and a deaf person. I realize that this sounds awful and I don't intend to be cruel or laugh at others misfortune, but these are just the sorts of places that my head would wander to in the loneliest reaches of New York state...the fields of the blind and deaf.
Speaking of the lonely reaches of New York - just before riding into the Adirondack mountains, I stopped at a gas station in a small town for some water and a bite to eat. There was a high school kid working there who was curious about where I was going. When I told him I started in Portland, OR he looked at me blankly and said "where's that?" I said "The state of Oregon, right below Washington..." Nothing. "I started at the pacific ocean." The guy freaked out! He started bouncing around and said "wow" and "oh my god" and "holy shit" several time very enthusiastically in that order. I started laughing somewhat uncomfortably because he was bobbing around in a motion similar to a kid that has to pee really bad. (I encountered another person on the train home that was unfamiliar with the geography of the US. This woman was talking with another when she said she was headed to Kansas. The other woman asked, "where's that? Missouri, Illinois?" "No its a state.") After the kid in New York managed to calm down, he started telling me that I was in the middle of nowhere and I was in for a lot more nothing. If he had only seen Idaho or Wyoming. He was right, there wasn't much until I arrived at Blue Mountain Lake, NY...
In Blue Mountain I met an interesting and very different guy. His name was Charlie and he was visiting his parents from Troy, NY where he did work on hardwood floors. He said he is 50 years old but looked a bit younger. He was clean cut and wearing a backpack, teal sweatpants, and a tattered t-shirt with a dolphin on it (very similar to one of those air brushed shirts with the howling wolves and a full moon in the background). Charlie and I talked for a bit about where I was going, where I was from, what my plans were from here, and the usual stuff. All of a sudden he had this look like he just realized something and immediately opened up his backpack and pulled out a notebook with tons of notes. He said, "I better write this stuff down. I write everything down. I try to keep an account of everything in as much detail as I can. Little things like the spider web right there and that stone on the ground. Someday maybe someone will find this stuff and appreciate it and will be able to remember all of this. I found some letters and a journal of my dads and I'm rewriting it. Its takes a lot of work but maybe someday my nieces will find it and appreciate it, or maybe they'll think I'm some kind of fruitcake or something. Maybe not guys like my brother, he's kind of a jerk. I don't know, I'm a different guy, people don't understand me." He just started talking and writing. He wrote nonstop. Everything we talked about, he wrote down. It was almost as if he was afraid to forget anything that has ever happened to him; like a nervous tick to keep track of everything. Charlie was right, he was a different dude. In fact, I have never met anyone like Charlie before...ever.
The impressions I had received from others regarding the Northeast, was that it was full of natural beauty, old stuff, and assholes(specifically in New England). It lived up to my expectations. I only have one addition to this description, which can only be fully appreciated by someone that has taken a loaded tour; the roads in New England are the worst in the US. The roads in Missouri compete but are not nearly as consistently shoulder-less and pothole ridden as the roads in New England.
From the Adirondack Mountains all the way to the coast was gorgeous. The mountains are covered with maples, oaks, and pines that were just beginning to change colors and paint the hills in every color that one expects to see in September. As I rode I would randomly stumble upon small calm ponds, eerie marshes, and lakes that stretched on for miles. I rode along the streams and rivers that connected each body of water to the next. The water seemed to run in, over and through each and every hill. Water poured out of the sides of rock over falls and looked cleaner than the stuff that comes out of a Brita filter.
The buildings in the towns and in the fields were old, REAL old. An old that one does not find anywhere in the US except the East. Buildings looked like they would crumble with a strong wind and others already had. Towns with absolutely no plan or organization to the streets were a refreshing change from the "cookie-cutter," built in a factory barracks that lined the Midwest. Like a pair of old jeans, the towns of the East have taken on the distinct character of the people that have lived in them. They are worn in, patched up, and display an individual identity created by, or as evidence of, the events that they have lived through. Each town proudly displays when it was chartered as you enter, but the only way to distinguish how old a town really is, is to look at the cemetery, each had at least one. The gravestones in the young towns still had names engraved on them and visible from the road. In the old towns, the engravings were simply worn off, or the markers had broken and were laying on the ground.
People in New England (Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine were the parts that I visited) seem cold, inconsiderate, and tactless. There were no manners. Waiting in line at a deli a woman came up and ordered in front of a few people. I said, "Mam there's a line here." She turned, looked me up and down and then turned back to the deli in disgust. At a gas station I held the door for a clean cut fat guy wreaking of cologne. After making a selection, I opened the door to the fridge to get a drink out when the same guy stepped in front of me and grabbed his drink first. I looked at the guy and said, "Oh, excuse me. Am I in your way? Let me get the door for you." He didn't even look at me, he just walked up to the counter and paid for his drink without exchanging words with anyone in the place. Note: New Englanders do not respond to passive aggressive comments. The men no longer gathered at a local diners to discuss life over coffee as they had in the Midwest. There was no small talk at gas stations and local markets. People went about there lives disinterested or apathetic to the world around them. Nobody held doors for one another and in the instance that I would, there was not so much as a simple "thanks," or head nod to acknowledge the gesture. I felt like Brooks Hadlin in Shawshank Redemption, "The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry." This was not true for the entire Northeast, the people of New York were great. They were very hospitable, curious, and helpful. They were harsh and critical at times, but you could always count on them for conversation. I came to find out that the few people I met who helped me out or talked with me in New England were from New York or somewhere else in the country.
In Vermont I saw a couple on the side of the road who were on a bike ride when one of them got a flat tire. I stopped to see if they needed any help, but they were more interested in finding out what I was doing and giving me advice on the nicest route to take than accepting help. Once they patched things up, I rode with them for a bit until my final destination for the day. They stopped to give me more route info and eventually invited me to come stay with them for the night. Of course I took them up on the offer. They offered me a guest room in their home which was built some time in the 1700's I believe. They have since remodeled and added additions, but it still felt old. They made a big dinner for me and gave me all the advice I could ever hope for on my upcoming rides. They even let me do a load of laundry. I was beginning to change my mind about people from the New England, and then I found out that they were originally from New York. Joy and Bill, thank you for taking me in for a night, the excellent hospitality, and maintaining my ignorant opinion of New Englanders.
I woke up at 6am eastern time almost everyday of the final two weeks of the trip. My phone alarm is set for 630 but I wake up at 6 without fail...damn my internal clock. The routine continued while I was riding the train. With nothing else to do, I headed to the dining car. When I arrived I saw my old train riding friends, the Amish. They must have sneaked on sometime during the night...they are a stealthy bunch. There was a whole crew/gang/pack, actually I think the correct term is a Gaggle of Amish (There is a loose affiliation between Geese and Amish because of their appreciation for bread and Mother Goose was Amish) in the dining car who were clearly of the Indiana persuasion. I know this because they were smiling, laughing, and enjoying each others company, a trait rarely seen among the closely related Pennsylvania breed. I originally went to the dining car for coffee, but the guy working the diner said there was a ten minute wait for a new batch. I decided, what better way to kill 10 minutes than by talking with Jeb and Jake. As I approached, the whole Gaggle took notice and turned to look at me. I said, "Hi, where are you guys traveling to?" They looked at me blankly and and at each other, then the oldest looking man said something to me in their Pennsylvania Dutch. I couldn't believe this guy was playing the ignorant Amish card. Pretending not to speak American...Sly. I just walked away awkwardly silent after that, disappointed in my weak attempt to fit in with my bearded friends. They shunned me away (shun, shun the non believer!). Today was the first time I saw an Amish person smile and they easily have worse teeth than the English. I was hopeful that I would come upon an Amish village sometime in my travels, no such luck though. The hope was to go around the village taking pictures of everything and all of the people. Most of all, I wanted a picture of me with my arm around the shoulder of some unsuspecting Amish (very similar to the self portraits you see on facebook). I would have a big stupid smile on and he/she would be looking at me in fear. I have never seen a red haired Amish. I bet they drown the red ones at birth out of fear that they are witches or because they weigh more than a duck. One cant live life thinking that they are bigger than the gaggle. A couple of fun facts I found when I did a Google search on Amish: they are allowed to use in-line skates (this I have to see), men don't grow mustaches because of the mustache's association with military, Amish dress the way they do in order to NOT stand out, Amish dolls do not have faces on them (that's creepy), and they refuse being photographed because the bible tells them not to.
-Marcus
Recently I have been using warmshowers.org to find a place to stay. Its a directory/network similar to couchsurfing.com; people place profiles and contact info online and you can send them an email requesting to stay with them for a night. During one of my stays with someone from Warmshowers.org, I was hanging with a guy I will call Larry. Due to the nature of his actions I will not give his real name or where he lives. Before heading to the grocery store he asked if anyone needed anything. "Really anything at all, I don't pay for it, so if you need it, say so." To which I replied "what do you mean, you don't pay for it? You just steal it?"
"Yeah."
"You just walk out of the store or what?"
"Yep. Well, you can only do it at this specific store, because the doors aren't behind the registers. Also, my girlfriend used to work there and said that the workers are instructed specifically not to do anything except go find or call a manager if they suspect someone is stealing."
It turns out that Larry has not paid for a single item of food in the past 8 months! I had to see this to believe it, so I went with him. Just like he said, he just went and picked up the things he needed and walked out casually as if nothing was wrong. The security guard behind the registers didn't notice and neither did the cashiers, the guy mopping the floor, the cart boys, or the guy in front of the building on his smoke break who looked like the MOD. It wasn't just little stuff either, Larry walked out with a full weeks worth of food: juice, eggs, fruits and vegetables, spaghetti, cereal and even a 6 pack. When I asked him if he felt bad about it or if he thought it was wrong, he replied, "nobody is hurt by what I do except the corporation that owns that store. Yes, stealing is wrong, but its not like the people working in the store aren't going to miss next months rent as a result." I am simply impressed that it has been 8 months and nobody has noticed or done a thing. This is another scenario that flirts with the Bold vs. Stupid line.
About 40 miles outside of Rochester, while riding with Michael, we had a bit of a collision. We were riding side by side when my back panniers (bike bags) linked up with his front panniers, some how causing him to wipe out and me to get pushed off of the rode. As I looked back to find him on the ground, I saw a car miss hitting him in the head by about a foot or 2. Even after swerving the car just drove away, didn't stop to see if he was alright or anything. Aside from a sore wrist, Michael was uninjured. I was fine as well but I found out later that my bike took the hit for me. I managed to crack a second rim sometime during the crash, leaving me with 40 miles to the nearest bike shop on one terribly out of true wheel. 40 miles is a long time with a crooked wheel. During the ride to the bike shop/Rochester I was listening for more cracking and rode as cautiously as possible, fearing the wheel would fold in half at any minute. Despite my worrying, I made it into town just fine. We had been contacting people on warm showers the day before and had managed to secure a place to stay for the night in Rochester. When we arrived at the house we would be staying at, we received a warm welcome by Ann and Stu. They were a very friendly and hospitable people. Ann's son did his first bike tour this summer and she has signed up to host people to ensure good karma. As soon as we arrived, Stu took me over to a bike shop to see about a new wheel. The nearest place only had one wheel and it looked as if I could destroy it in about 3 miles of casual riding. Noticing my hesitation, Stu offered to check out a couple other places. We called up a couple other shops and all of them were closed. We went back to the house to eat a wonderful dinner and a homemade cherry pie for dessert. It was great! Every time that I have stayed with people on this trip I am surprised by how generous they are. I woke up the next morning to a fresh hot cup of coffee and a gloomy, rainy autumn sky. Coffee tastes best and has the most noticeable effect when you haven't had it in about a week. The last time I had coffee before this was in Cleveland nearly a week before, so it was a welcome treat. Just before the stores opened up, Ann and Stu took us out for a delicious breakfast, which was followed by trips to other bike shops. Eventually we found a shop with a strong rim but the wheel would have to be rebuilt, which would take a day. Stu and Ann put us up for another night and I was able to do exactly what I had wanted to do after waking up that morning, sit around and watch TV.
Along the ride in NY I kept seeing signs that said "blind person area" or "deaf person area." For some reason every time that I saw one of these signs, I imagined blind and deaf people walking around in big open fields. In my head, the deaf people were always playing tag or games that blind people would be terrible at. Meanwhile the blind people were talking smack about the deaf and trying to convince them to go to the pool so they could play Marco Polo or some other game that deaf people would be terrible at. I want to see a conversation between a blind and a deaf person. I realize that this sounds awful and I don't intend to be cruel or laugh at others misfortune, but these are just the sorts of places that my head would wander to in the loneliest reaches of New York state...the fields of the blind and deaf.
Speaking of the lonely reaches of New York - just before riding into the Adirondack mountains, I stopped at a gas station in a small town for some water and a bite to eat. There was a high school kid working there who was curious about where I was going. When I told him I started in Portland, OR he looked at me blankly and said "where's that?" I said "The state of Oregon, right below Washington..." Nothing. "I started at the pacific ocean." The guy freaked out! He started bouncing around and said "wow" and "oh my god" and "holy shit" several time very enthusiastically in that order. I started laughing somewhat uncomfortably because he was bobbing around in a motion similar to a kid that has to pee really bad. (I encountered another person on the train home that was unfamiliar with the geography of the US. This woman was talking with another when she said she was headed to Kansas. The other woman asked, "where's that? Missouri, Illinois?" "No its a state.") After the kid in New York managed to calm down, he started telling me that I was in the middle of nowhere and I was in for a lot more nothing. If he had only seen Idaho or Wyoming. He was right, there wasn't much until I arrived at Blue Mountain Lake, NY...
In Blue Mountain I met an interesting and very different guy. His name was Charlie and he was visiting his parents from Troy, NY where he did work on hardwood floors. He said he is 50 years old but looked a bit younger. He was clean cut and wearing a backpack, teal sweatpants, and a tattered t-shirt with a dolphin on it (very similar to one of those air brushed shirts with the howling wolves and a full moon in the background). Charlie and I talked for a bit about where I was going, where I was from, what my plans were from here, and the usual stuff. All of a sudden he had this look like he just realized something and immediately opened up his backpack and pulled out a notebook with tons of notes. He said, "I better write this stuff down. I write everything down. I try to keep an account of everything in as much detail as I can. Little things like the spider web right there and that stone on the ground. Someday maybe someone will find this stuff and appreciate it and will be able to remember all of this. I found some letters and a journal of my dads and I'm rewriting it. Its takes a lot of work but maybe someday my nieces will find it and appreciate it, or maybe they'll think I'm some kind of fruitcake or something. Maybe not guys like my brother, he's kind of a jerk. I don't know, I'm a different guy, people don't understand me." He just started talking and writing. He wrote nonstop. Everything we talked about, he wrote down. It was almost as if he was afraid to forget anything that has ever happened to him; like a nervous tick to keep track of everything. Charlie was right, he was a different dude. In fact, I have never met anyone like Charlie before...ever.
The impressions I had received from others regarding the Northeast, was that it was full of natural beauty, old stuff, and assholes(specifically in New England). It lived up to my expectations. I only have one addition to this description, which can only be fully appreciated by someone that has taken a loaded tour; the roads in New England are the worst in the US. The roads in Missouri compete but are not nearly as consistently shoulder-less and pothole ridden as the roads in New England.
From the Adirondack Mountains all the way to the coast was gorgeous. The mountains are covered with maples, oaks, and pines that were just beginning to change colors and paint the hills in every color that one expects to see in September. As I rode I would randomly stumble upon small calm ponds, eerie marshes, and lakes that stretched on for miles. I rode along the streams and rivers that connected each body of water to the next. The water seemed to run in, over and through each and every hill. Water poured out of the sides of rock over falls and looked cleaner than the stuff that comes out of a Brita filter.
The buildings in the towns and in the fields were old, REAL old. An old that one does not find anywhere in the US except the East. Buildings looked like they would crumble with a strong wind and others already had. Towns with absolutely no plan or organization to the streets were a refreshing change from the "cookie-cutter," built in a factory barracks that lined the Midwest. Like a pair of old jeans, the towns of the East have taken on the distinct character of the people that have lived in them. They are worn in, patched up, and display an individual identity created by, or as evidence of, the events that they have lived through. Each town proudly displays when it was chartered as you enter, but the only way to distinguish how old a town really is, is to look at the cemetery, each had at least one. The gravestones in the young towns still had names engraved on them and visible from the road. In the old towns, the engravings were simply worn off, or the markers had broken and were laying on the ground.
People in New England (Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine were the parts that I visited) seem cold, inconsiderate, and tactless. There were no manners. Waiting in line at a deli a woman came up and ordered in front of a few people. I said, "Mam there's a line here." She turned, looked me up and down and then turned back to the deli in disgust. At a gas station I held the door for a clean cut fat guy wreaking of cologne. After making a selection, I opened the door to the fridge to get a drink out when the same guy stepped in front of me and grabbed his drink first. I looked at the guy and said, "Oh, excuse me. Am I in your way? Let me get the door for you." He didn't even look at me, he just walked up to the counter and paid for his drink without exchanging words with anyone in the place. Note: New Englanders do not respond to passive aggressive comments. The men no longer gathered at a local diners to discuss life over coffee as they had in the Midwest. There was no small talk at gas stations and local markets. People went about there lives disinterested or apathetic to the world around them. Nobody held doors for one another and in the instance that I would, there was not so much as a simple "thanks," or head nod to acknowledge the gesture. I felt like Brooks Hadlin in Shawshank Redemption, "The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry." This was not true for the entire Northeast, the people of New York were great. They were very hospitable, curious, and helpful. They were harsh and critical at times, but you could always count on them for conversation. I came to find out that the few people I met who helped me out or talked with me in New England were from New York or somewhere else in the country.
In Vermont I saw a couple on the side of the road who were on a bike ride when one of them got a flat tire. I stopped to see if they needed any help, but they were more interested in finding out what I was doing and giving me advice on the nicest route to take than accepting help. Once they patched things up, I rode with them for a bit until my final destination for the day. They stopped to give me more route info and eventually invited me to come stay with them for the night. Of course I took them up on the offer. They offered me a guest room in their home which was built some time in the 1700's I believe. They have since remodeled and added additions, but it still felt old. They made a big dinner for me and gave me all the advice I could ever hope for on my upcoming rides. They even let me do a load of laundry. I was beginning to change my mind about people from the New England, and then I found out that they were originally from New York. Joy and Bill, thank you for taking me in for a night, the excellent hospitality, and maintaining my ignorant opinion of New Englanders.
I woke up at 6am eastern time almost everyday of the final two weeks of the trip. My phone alarm is set for 630 but I wake up at 6 without fail...damn my internal clock. The routine continued while I was riding the train. With nothing else to do, I headed to the dining car. When I arrived I saw my old train riding friends, the Amish. They must have sneaked on sometime during the night...they are a stealthy bunch. There was a whole crew/gang/pack, actually I think the correct term is a Gaggle of Amish (There is a loose affiliation between Geese and Amish because of their appreciation for bread and Mother Goose was Amish) in the dining car who were clearly of the Indiana persuasion. I know this because they were smiling, laughing, and enjoying each others company, a trait rarely seen among the closely related Pennsylvania breed. I originally went to the dining car for coffee, but the guy working the diner said there was a ten minute wait for a new batch. I decided, what better way to kill 10 minutes than by talking with Jeb and Jake. As I approached, the whole Gaggle took notice and turned to look at me. I said, "Hi, where are you guys traveling to?" They looked at me blankly and and at each other, then the oldest looking man said something to me in their Pennsylvania Dutch. I couldn't believe this guy was playing the ignorant Amish card. Pretending not to speak American...Sly. I just walked away awkwardly silent after that, disappointed in my weak attempt to fit in with my bearded friends. They shunned me away (shun, shun the non believer!). Today was the first time I saw an Amish person smile and they easily have worse teeth than the English. I was hopeful that I would come upon an Amish village sometime in my travels, no such luck though. The hope was to go around the village taking pictures of everything and all of the people. Most of all, I wanted a picture of me with my arm around the shoulder of some unsuspecting Amish (very similar to the self portraits you see on facebook). I would have a big stupid smile on and he/she would be looking at me in fear. I have never seen a red haired Amish. I bet they drown the red ones at birth out of fear that they are witches or because they weigh more than a duck. One cant live life thinking that they are bigger than the gaggle. A couple of fun facts I found when I did a Google search on Amish: they are allowed to use in-line skates (this I have to see), men don't grow mustaches because of the mustache's association with military, Amish dress the way they do in order to NOT stand out, Amish dolls do not have faces on them (that's creepy), and they refuse being photographed because the bible tells them not to.
-Marcus
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Flight attendants prepare for landing
I am happy and sad to say that your days of checking this page for updates are coming to an end. I crossed the entire state of Vermont today and will be working on New Hampshire tomorrow. This is the home stretch! The light at the end of the tunnel is shining in my eyes, keeping me awake at night, anxious to get up and ride! I will finish my ride sometime this weekend in Portland, ME when I arrive at the Atlantic.
I keep thinking about the quote by Red at the end of Shawshank Redemption: "I find myself so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I hope the Atlantic (not the actual quote but it fits better this way) is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope.
I will be sure to write a full explanation of the past week for you, as soon as I have a mouse and full sized keyboard. For now this will have to do. I am sorry to say I do not have the motivation to type on this damn phone anymore. My thumbs hurt and I'm pretty positive they have some sort of -itis.
Stay tuned for the full report soon.
Marcus
I keep thinking about the quote by Red at the end of Shawshank Redemption: "I find myself so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I hope the Atlantic (not the actual quote but it fits better this way) is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope.
I will be sure to write a full explanation of the past week for you, as soon as I have a mouse and full sized keyboard. For now this will have to do. I am sorry to say I do not have the motivation to type on this damn phone anymore. My thumbs hurt and I'm pretty positive they have some sort of -itis.
Stay tuned for the full report soon.
Marcus
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Ted Kennedy Died!
Riding into Cleveland, OH I stopped at a park to get something to take a break and get something to eat. While sitting there a couple of biker guys(Harley bikers, not Lance bikers) came up to me and asked what the hell I was doing. They were amazed and told me stories of how the rode their motorcycles all over and good places to go see when I made it further north. Near the end of the conversation, one of the guys says, "Oh, you know what? I have a Dago friend up in Hamburg you could stop and see. Don't worry hes one of those nice Dago's, a real 'Hey, hayadoin' kinda guy you know?" without even know whether I would be going through the town or not, the guy gives his friend a call and says that I will be there in a few days. This was not the case, but he told the guy anyway and said, "He's 85 he wont remember it anyways, you know?" He finished almost every sentence with, "you know?" They also insisted on giving me some stuff from their lunches which they picked up from a local shop. This was a nice welcome to Cleveland and began a fun weekend hanging out with my cousin Kate.
I did not know what to expect from Cleveland and was surprised at how large it was upon arriving. Entering the town from the West there is a beautiful view of the skyline and Lake Erie. After meeting up with Kate, I got cleaned up and we went out for a delicious dinner full of vegetables, which seem hard to come by. Following dinner we went out to a local high school football game. I was shocked to see how big high school football was in Ohio and how the ENTIRE community supported the local high school team. The game was a big deal, but at Westlake High (the school that we went to watch) the marching band was, "The pride and joy" of the school. It was strange to be back at a high school football game, but I felt a bit more comfortable when one eccentric coach was shouting when his team would screw up. "What the hell is he doing!!! Who the hell was that!!!"
My second day in Cleveland was just as much fun. I went on a behind the scenes tour of The Q, the Cavaliers Stadium and managed to catch part of the air and water show that was in town. Thanks again for showing me a fun time and taking me up every set of stairs in Cleveland Kate!
While leaving Cleveland I stopped to take a couple of pictures of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when another touring cyclist rolled up to me. Micheal is a 34 year old that is racing across the country. He's not literally racing, but he left Portland, OR the first week of August and is at the same place I am, I left on June 12th. He is riding for a couple of causes, but the most important one is something called Climate Ride. Its a ride from NY City to Washington D.C. to raise awareness for climate change. He is a nice guy and we get along pretty well. It is nice to have company again and it makes the miles pass a lot faster. Having company made the rest of Ohio go by pretty fast and we finished Keystone state in a day. Now I am in Buffalo, NY preparing to head into Canada for the first time. The plan is to stay there for a day visiting Niagara Falls. I am told by New Yorkers that I cannot pass this close without seeing them. In the mean time, I am taking a day off in Buffalo and seeing the tourist attractions of the town: The Buffalo Naval Museum, the home of Buffalo Wings - Anchor Bar, Tower Grove Cemetery, Delaware Park, and I ate a Hoagie.
Overall, I have to say that I am not a huge fan of Buffalo. This is probably because the town is very bike unfriendly...I have almost been hit a couple of times by people getting as close as they can, trying to scare me. Most of these people race past or rev their engines as they shout something out of their windows. Buffalo puts every other town I have been to, to shame. The town is not all bad though. When people see the loaded bike and they are not in their cars, they stop to find out what we're doing. In addition, we managed to find a couple of fellow bikers (Lance bikers, not Harley bikers) to put us up for a night. Hanna and Jordan live up on the north side of town and have done a bit of bike touring. Both of them are recent graduates from Buffalo University and are currently playing in a band together while trying to figure things out. We found them on WarmShowers.org, a site similar to CouchSurfing.com where you can find people willing to have you over for a night if they have a spare couch. When we arrived we were greeted by Jordan, who showed us around and made us feel very welcome. He even went out and bought some beer and a cake saying, "I'd like to eat cake with you guys." I thought this was hilarious and was more than willing to put away a couple of pieces after a long ride. The conversation and comfy couch was a welcome change from the usual park benches.
I will write more soon, but Buffalo is a big place and there is a lot of cool old stuff to explore here.
-Marcus
I did not know what to expect from Cleveland and was surprised at how large it was upon arriving. Entering the town from the West there is a beautiful view of the skyline and Lake Erie. After meeting up with Kate, I got cleaned up and we went out for a delicious dinner full of vegetables, which seem hard to come by. Following dinner we went out to a local high school football game. I was shocked to see how big high school football was in Ohio and how the ENTIRE community supported the local high school team. The game was a big deal, but at Westlake High (the school that we went to watch) the marching band was, "The pride and joy" of the school. It was strange to be back at a high school football game, but I felt a bit more comfortable when one eccentric coach was shouting when his team would screw up. "What the hell is he doing!!! Who the hell was that!!!"
My second day in Cleveland was just as much fun. I went on a behind the scenes tour of The Q, the Cavaliers Stadium and managed to catch part of the air and water show that was in town. Thanks again for showing me a fun time and taking me up every set of stairs in Cleveland Kate!
While leaving Cleveland I stopped to take a couple of pictures of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when another touring cyclist rolled up to me. Micheal is a 34 year old that is racing across the country. He's not literally racing, but he left Portland, OR the first week of August and is at the same place I am, I left on June 12th. He is riding for a couple of causes, but the most important one is something called Climate Ride. Its a ride from NY City to Washington D.C. to raise awareness for climate change. He is a nice guy and we get along pretty well. It is nice to have company again and it makes the miles pass a lot faster. Having company made the rest of Ohio go by pretty fast and we finished Keystone state in a day. Now I am in Buffalo, NY preparing to head into Canada for the first time. The plan is to stay there for a day visiting Niagara Falls. I am told by New Yorkers that I cannot pass this close without seeing them. In the mean time, I am taking a day off in Buffalo and seeing the tourist attractions of the town: The Buffalo Naval Museum, the home of Buffalo Wings - Anchor Bar, Tower Grove Cemetery, Delaware Park, and I ate a Hoagie.
Overall, I have to say that I am not a huge fan of Buffalo. This is probably because the town is very bike unfriendly...I have almost been hit a couple of times by people getting as close as they can, trying to scare me. Most of these people race past or rev their engines as they shout something out of their windows. Buffalo puts every other town I have been to, to shame. The town is not all bad though. When people see the loaded bike and they are not in their cars, they stop to find out what we're doing. In addition, we managed to find a couple of fellow bikers (Lance bikers, not Harley bikers) to put us up for a night. Hanna and Jordan live up on the north side of town and have done a bit of bike touring. Both of them are recent graduates from Buffalo University and are currently playing in a band together while trying to figure things out. We found them on WarmShowers.org, a site similar to CouchSurfing.com where you can find people willing to have you over for a night if they have a spare couch. When we arrived we were greeted by Jordan, who showed us around and made us feel very welcome. He even went out and bought some beer and a cake saying, "I'd like to eat cake with you guys." I thought this was hilarious and was more than willing to put away a couple of pieces after a long ride. The conversation and comfy couch was a welcome change from the usual park benches.
I will write more soon, but Buffalo is a big place and there is a lot of cool old stuff to explore here.
-Marcus
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Adventurer
The woman from Holland that I ran into the other day was not lying when she said she was going to send in a story to the local newspaper. An article authored by Truus Leader was found in the Northwest Signal the day after I met her. You can find the article she wrote as well as a picture of me at the following link:
http://www.northwestsignal.net/articles/2009/09/04/news/doc4aa113febc2e3889705164.img
The article was titled "Adventurer." That's got a nice ring to it, maybe ill change the title of this blog to "The Red Adventurer" or "AdventuRED" or "I was the subject of an article in a small town newspaper titled Adventurer". Naw, I think Ill just stick with The Red Rider.
The past couple of days have been host to some firsts for me. The list of these follows:
- I saw a wild dog. It was a Shiatsu. As I came down a country rode a dog looked at me and immediately started running as fast as it could away from me. After about 100 yards, I pulled up next and saw that it was a Shiatsu just before it ran into a soy bean field. I have always wondered what a pack of wild Shiatsu's would look like, and though it wasn't a pack I feel like I finally got a glimpse. Dreams really do come true.
- Shortly after seeing the wild Shiatsu, I rode past a few interesting carcasses. The first was a beaver, the second a turkey buzzard, and finally someones well-groomed Westie, collar still on it. The beaver was a surprise because I have only seen one on the trip and it was in Oregon. The Turkey Buzzard was shocking because it was so large and I have never seen such a massive bird up close, even dead. However, the Westie was the find of the month because as I came up to it I thought it was some kind of pillow or something. I slowed down as I passed it and noticed the collar and finally I saw its face. It had a look on its face as if it was just hanging its head out the window of a car and enjoying the smells when the driver hit a bump and out went Princess. I don't know how long it had been sitting there, but I was surprised that nobody had moved it out of the road. It was right outside of a town and a stop sign.
- Somewhere in either Ohio or Indiana I found myself at a non-participating McDonald's. At the end of every McDonald's commercial, you will hear the words "Only at PARTICIPATING McDonald's." I have never paid attention to it and simply assumed that all of them were participating. This is not the case. Everyone knows what they are going to order when they go into a McDonald's, and for me it is always a $1 large drink, a McDouble Cheeseburger, and a McChicken sandwich. All of these items are off of the Dollar Menu and apparently are optional menu items for McDonald's owners. After listing off my order, the woman looked at me as if I had just ordered a Whopper, 30 Sliders, and a Gordita Crunch. I was shocked to hear the words, "I am sorry sir, we don't have any of those things." I was appalled! I chuckled and replied with "this is McDonald's, what do mean you don't have those things? Every other McDonald's between here and the Pacific has had them." I was clearly upset by this. "Yes sir but we don't participate in the promotions." A non participating McDonald's...this is the kind of thing that would throw an OCD person into a seizure.
- The final first of the trip was Confederate flags that were flown in front of 2 houses and swastikas were found not far away. I expected to see signs of America's divided past at some point, but didn't expect that it would be in Ohio.
Several times in my life I have heard the saying, "Every man needs a vice." I am not sure if this is a quote or what it is, but I was thinking about it the other day. I realized that if there is one thing that I over consume or indulge in excessively, its donuts. Now you may consider donuts to be relatively healthy as far as vices are concerned, but if you are thinking this, you have obviously never seen me consume donuts. Its really becoming a problem. The other day I stopped in a gas station to get a donut and some coffee after about 30 miles of riding. As I reached for the tissue paper I noticed a box of 1 dozen donuts for $2 with a sticker saying "Day Old". The sticker didn't phase me as I put down the tissue paper and picked up the box of donuts. I packed all 12 of them away before I left the gas station.
Two nights ago I camped in an RV park. It was a huge lot right off of Interstate 80/90 and marketed as a camp site for families visiting Cedar Point. There were about 100 camp sites, but only about 4 of them filled. One of the sites was taken by an old guy named Dick and his Golden Retriever Bonnie. As I came close to them Bonnie started barking ran out to the street. After setting up camp, I walked past them again and received the same welcome from Bonnie, but this time I stopped to say hi. Dick and Bonnie were out touring around in their camper called "Cub". Dick is an 81 year old retired school bus driver that is the spitting image of Brooks Hadlin, the old man/librarian in the Shawshank Redemption. Dick just lost his wife a little over a year ago to Diabetes. He is one of the saddest/most depressed looking guys that I have met in a long time. Since his wife past, he says he has been spending almost all of his time either at their house or in the parks that they used to enjoy going to. The camp that we were staying at happened to be one of their favorite spots. One thing he kept repeating was "there are so many memories here." I can't describe how bad I felt for the guy. I talked with him for a bit and watched part of the Bears vs. Browns game that he had playing in the window of the camper. While talking, he started to remind me of the book that I was reading, "Travels with Charley." The story is John Steinbeck's account of traveling around the United States with his dog Charley to satisfy a desire for adventure. Though I had not finished the copy of the book that my friend Tim had given to me, I decided to give it to Dick with the hope that he would read it and it would encourage him to go out and see the world or try something new. I promised myself that I would buy the book the next time I saw a book store and finish reading it. Dick was very grateful for the book and even asked for my address so that he could write me his thoughts on it. I ate breakfast and had a cup of coffee with him in the morning before I left. Upon hopping on the bike, he said to me "You take care now Red, ride with Jesus...ride with Jesus." I look forward to hearing from Dick and Bonnie and their adventures on the rode.
-Red
http://www.northwestsignal.net/articles/2009/09/04/news/doc4aa113febc2e3889705164.img
The article was titled "Adventurer." That's got a nice ring to it, maybe ill change the title of this blog to "The Red Adventurer" or "AdventuRED" or "I was the subject of an article in a small town newspaper titled Adventurer". Naw, I think Ill just stick with The Red Rider.
The past couple of days have been host to some firsts for me. The list of these follows:
- I saw a wild dog. It was a Shiatsu. As I came down a country rode a dog looked at me and immediately started running as fast as it could away from me. After about 100 yards, I pulled up next and saw that it was a Shiatsu just before it ran into a soy bean field. I have always wondered what a pack of wild Shiatsu's would look like, and though it wasn't a pack I feel like I finally got a glimpse. Dreams really do come true.
- Shortly after seeing the wild Shiatsu, I rode past a few interesting carcasses. The first was a beaver, the second a turkey buzzard, and finally someones well-groomed Westie, collar still on it. The beaver was a surprise because I have only seen one on the trip and it was in Oregon. The Turkey Buzzard was shocking because it was so large and I have never seen such a massive bird up close, even dead. However, the Westie was the find of the month because as I came up to it I thought it was some kind of pillow or something. I slowed down as I passed it and noticed the collar and finally I saw its face. It had a look on its face as if it was just hanging its head out the window of a car and enjoying the smells when the driver hit a bump and out went Princess. I don't know how long it had been sitting there, but I was surprised that nobody had moved it out of the road. It was right outside of a town and a stop sign.
- Somewhere in either Ohio or Indiana I found myself at a non-participating McDonald's. At the end of every McDonald's commercial, you will hear the words "Only at PARTICIPATING McDonald's." I have never paid attention to it and simply assumed that all of them were participating. This is not the case. Everyone knows what they are going to order when they go into a McDonald's, and for me it is always a $1 large drink, a McDouble Cheeseburger, and a McChicken sandwich. All of these items are off of the Dollar Menu and apparently are optional menu items for McDonald's owners. After listing off my order, the woman looked at me as if I had just ordered a Whopper, 30 Sliders, and a Gordita Crunch. I was shocked to hear the words, "I am sorry sir, we don't have any of those things." I was appalled! I chuckled and replied with "this is McDonald's, what do mean you don't have those things? Every other McDonald's between here and the Pacific has had them." I was clearly upset by this. "Yes sir but we don't participate in the promotions." A non participating McDonald's...this is the kind of thing that would throw an OCD person into a seizure.
- The final first of the trip was Confederate flags that were flown in front of 2 houses and swastikas were found not far away. I expected to see signs of America's divided past at some point, but didn't expect that it would be in Ohio.
Several times in my life I have heard the saying, "Every man needs a vice." I am not sure if this is a quote or what it is, but I was thinking about it the other day. I realized that if there is one thing that I over consume or indulge in excessively, its donuts. Now you may consider donuts to be relatively healthy as far as vices are concerned, but if you are thinking this, you have obviously never seen me consume donuts. Its really becoming a problem. The other day I stopped in a gas station to get a donut and some coffee after about 30 miles of riding. As I reached for the tissue paper I noticed a box of 1 dozen donuts for $2 with a sticker saying "Day Old". The sticker didn't phase me as I put down the tissue paper and picked up the box of donuts. I packed all 12 of them away before I left the gas station.
Two nights ago I camped in an RV park. It was a huge lot right off of Interstate 80/90 and marketed as a camp site for families visiting Cedar Point. There were about 100 camp sites, but only about 4 of them filled. One of the sites was taken by an old guy named Dick and his Golden Retriever Bonnie. As I came close to them Bonnie started barking ran out to the street. After setting up camp, I walked past them again and received the same welcome from Bonnie, but this time I stopped to say hi. Dick and Bonnie were out touring around in their camper called "Cub". Dick is an 81 year old retired school bus driver that is the spitting image of Brooks Hadlin, the old man/librarian in the Shawshank Redemption. Dick just lost his wife a little over a year ago to Diabetes. He is one of the saddest/most depressed looking guys that I have met in a long time. Since his wife past, he says he has been spending almost all of his time either at their house or in the parks that they used to enjoy going to. The camp that we were staying at happened to be one of their favorite spots. One thing he kept repeating was "there are so many memories here." I can't describe how bad I felt for the guy. I talked with him for a bit and watched part of the Bears vs. Browns game that he had playing in the window of the camper. While talking, he started to remind me of the book that I was reading, "Travels with Charley." The story is John Steinbeck's account of traveling around the United States with his dog Charley to satisfy a desire for adventure. Though I had not finished the copy of the book that my friend Tim had given to me, I decided to give it to Dick with the hope that he would read it and it would encourage him to go out and see the world or try something new. I promised myself that I would buy the book the next time I saw a book store and finish reading it. Dick was very grateful for the book and even asked for my address so that he could write me his thoughts on it. I ate breakfast and had a cup of coffee with him in the morning before I left. Upon hopping on the bike, he said to me "You take care now Red, ride with Jesus...ride with Jesus." I look forward to hearing from Dick and Bonnie and their adventures on the rode.
-Red
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I enjoy spaghetti!
Recently there have been lots of signs for online dating. This got me thinking of what my profile would look like if I had an online dating account.
Hi I'm Red...literally. I'm 6'4", about 200lbs with well defined tan lines, barely visible eyebrows and some heavy duty saddle bags. I like long bike rides and talking to myself on back country roads. I'm looking for someone who enjoys quoting youtube videos and is willing to smother me with sunscreen. You can find me on Youtube by searching keyword: techno viking.
Ohio is confusing to me. Most of the really small, backwoods, podunk towns that I visit here have been some of the friendliest and most hospitable. But when I arrive in a medium sized town (10-30 thousand people) I get harassed more than in most other states. In 3 separate towns, 3 different women shouted things at me from their cars. Surprisingly, or maybe not, all of them fit the same description: between 40-60 years of age, driving an early 90's Chevy Astro Van(not the nice one with the 10" TV and VCR, just a standard Astrovan), missing several front teeth, and wearing a white t-shirt. I only caught. What one of them said and it confused the hell out of me. As I rode past her while she was stopped at a stop light, she stuck her head out the window and shouted "you better ride your ass off!" I was not sure how to take this comment. Was this woman hitting on me or was she about to reach for a gun? Either way I took her advice and got the hell out of Defiance, IN.
I did meet one very nice lady from Holland though. Her name was Truus Leader and she thought my bike ride was an great story, so good in fact that she asked if she could write about me in the local paper. I agreed after she gave me a bar of chocolate and was offering to buy me other things at the Walmart where I ran into her. I was amused by her impressions of her new home in Napoleon, IN and how backwards she thought the place was.
I spoke with her and her dog Lulu (yeah I talk to dawgs...what of it!) For a bit and then continued on my way.
-Marcus
Hi I'm Red...literally. I'm 6'4", about 200lbs with well defined tan lines, barely visible eyebrows and some heavy duty saddle bags. I like long bike rides and talking to myself on back country roads. I'm looking for someone who enjoys quoting youtube videos and is willing to smother me with sunscreen. You can find me on Youtube by searching keyword: techno viking.
Ohio is confusing to me. Most of the really small, backwoods, podunk towns that I visit here have been some of the friendliest and most hospitable. But when I arrive in a medium sized town (10-30 thousand people) I get harassed more than in most other states. In 3 separate towns, 3 different women shouted things at me from their cars. Surprisingly, or maybe not, all of them fit the same description: between 40-60 years of age, driving an early 90's Chevy Astro Van(not the nice one with the 10" TV and VCR, just a standard Astrovan), missing several front teeth, and wearing a white t-shirt. I only caught. What one of them said and it confused the hell out of me. As I rode past her while she was stopped at a stop light, she stuck her head out the window and shouted "you better ride your ass off!" I was not sure how to take this comment. Was this woman hitting on me or was she about to reach for a gun? Either way I took her advice and got the hell out of Defiance, IN.
I did meet one very nice lady from Holland though. Her name was Truus Leader and she thought my bike ride was an great story, so good in fact that she asked if she could write about me in the local paper. I agreed after she gave me a bar of chocolate and was offering to buy me other things at the Walmart where I ran into her. I was amused by her impressions of her new home in Napoleon, IN and how backwards she thought the place was.
I spoke with her and her dog Lulu (yeah I talk to dawgs...what of it!) For a bit and then continued on my way.
-Marcus
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Hoosier Hospitality
I am a few short miles from the Indiana/ Ohio border and though I have only spent 2 days in the state, would call Indiana the most hospitable that I have ridden through. My first day here I was stopped by a farmer driver a truck full of grain. He asked where I was from and where I was going and told me about his trip to the east coast. Before he took off he said, "my moms house is the first one on the left after your turn up here. Stop in and get some water and anything else you might need, tell her Kevin said so." By the time I turned the corner, Kevin's Mom Francis, was waving in the street for me with a bowl of fresh peaches all cut up. I ate them and talked with her for a bit before heading on to Fletchers Lake.
When I arrived in Fletchers Lake I was confused as to where the campground listed on the map was. As I looked around a woman came out of her house and asked "you looking for the campground?" I said yes and she replied "you found it." I didn't think much of the place at first. It seemed like a bunch of trailers beside a small lake and I couldn't figure out why there were large white and blacked spotted rabbits EVERYWHERE! The womans name was Patty and she was kind enough to show me around and tell me what the story was even thought the owner of the campground wasn't around. She told me to come over if I wanted or after I got settled in. I took a shower and ate a bit before heading over to find her and her husband Terry out making a fire, feeding what I found out were domestic rabbits, and drinking ice cold Budweiser. We sat around and talked about biking and several random other topics while neighbors stopped over to say hi. Before I left to go set up my tent they offered to let me stay on their couch, I was hesitant at first but then thought to myself, "Fortune favors the bold" and accepted their invitation. When I woke up this next morning, Patty was making coffee. After a cup, she asked if I would like an egg and cheese sandwich. It was delicious! It was great to have good company and conversation to start the day.
Patty and Terry were 2 of the nicest strangers that I have met on the trip, if not the nicest. Most everyone that I have stayed with up until this point, I had some connection to either through friends or family. But these two were genuine strangers who took me in and took care of me for a night. Patty and Terry, thanks for the cold beer, hot food, and the comfy futon.
Eventually I headed out ready to get on the road. 10 miles in I broke and fixed my 3rd spoke. It slowed me down, but shit happens. I stopped in Deedsville shortly after where I met another Terry. He owned the antique shop that I was sitting in front of. We talked for a while about the area and the economy and finally about real estate. Terry said he bought a big old farm house on 40 acres(maybe a 3 bedroom, he pointed it out) for $2000! There is no typo in there, he paid $2000 for a house and 40 acres. That is crazy! The downside is that its in Deedsville and well, there is a reason its only $2000. I spent the rest of the day imagining what I would do with an old farm house. All I came up with was barn parties, ATV's, and digging my own swimming pool/mud pit. The first and only thing that I decided I would actually do with it was raise 2 ducks there, one name Klaus and the other named Esteban. My dog would be named Richie Tenenbaum and would adore his adopted sister Margot. I'm only serious about the ducks.
Tonight I am staying at the award winning Monroeville Community Center, where they have been hosting touring cyclists since 1975. They have a full kitchen, bathroom, shower, and washer and dryer. They offer it up free of charge and have hundreds of people stay each year. Its nice to be able to close a door behind you when you go to bed.
Thanks again to Patty, Terry, Kevin, Francis, and everyone else that has put up with me for a night or two!
-Marcus
When I arrived in Fletchers Lake I was confused as to where the campground listed on the map was. As I looked around a woman came out of her house and asked "you looking for the campground?" I said yes and she replied "you found it." I didn't think much of the place at first. It seemed like a bunch of trailers beside a small lake and I couldn't figure out why there were large white and blacked spotted rabbits EVERYWHERE! The womans name was Patty and she was kind enough to show me around and tell me what the story was even thought the owner of the campground wasn't around. She told me to come over if I wanted or after I got settled in. I took a shower and ate a bit before heading over to find her and her husband Terry out making a fire, feeding what I found out were domestic rabbits, and drinking ice cold Budweiser. We sat around and talked about biking and several random other topics while neighbors stopped over to say hi. Before I left to go set up my tent they offered to let me stay on their couch, I was hesitant at first but then thought to myself, "Fortune favors the bold" and accepted their invitation. When I woke up this next morning, Patty was making coffee. After a cup, she asked if I would like an egg and cheese sandwich. It was delicious! It was great to have good company and conversation to start the day.
Patty and Terry were 2 of the nicest strangers that I have met on the trip, if not the nicest. Most everyone that I have stayed with up until this point, I had some connection to either through friends or family. But these two were genuine strangers who took me in and took care of me for a night. Patty and Terry, thanks for the cold beer, hot food, and the comfy futon.
Eventually I headed out ready to get on the road. 10 miles in I broke and fixed my 3rd spoke. It slowed me down, but shit happens. I stopped in Deedsville shortly after where I met another Terry. He owned the antique shop that I was sitting in front of. We talked for a while about the area and the economy and finally about real estate. Terry said he bought a big old farm house on 40 acres(maybe a 3 bedroom, he pointed it out) for $2000! There is no typo in there, he paid $2000 for a house and 40 acres. That is crazy! The downside is that its in Deedsville and well, there is a reason its only $2000. I spent the rest of the day imagining what I would do with an old farm house. All I came up with was barn parties, ATV's, and digging my own swimming pool/mud pit. The first and only thing that I decided I would actually do with it was raise 2 ducks there, one name Klaus and the other named Esteban. My dog would be named Richie Tenenbaum and would adore his adopted sister Margot. I'm only serious about the ducks.
Tonight I am staying at the award winning Monroeville Community Center, where they have been hosting touring cyclists since 1975. They have a full kitchen, bathroom, shower, and washer and dryer. They offer it up free of charge and have hundreds of people stay each year. Its nice to be able to close a door behind you when you go to bed.
Thanks again to Patty, Terry, Kevin, Francis, and everyone else that has put up with me for a night or two!
-Marcus
A while back, a friend asked me to load up my reading list:
-Life of Pi
-Dress your Family in Denim and Corduroy
-Where the Wild things are
-Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa puffs
-Travels with Charley
-On the road
-Stranger in the forest
-A Clockwork Orange
-Catch 22
I am certain the list is larger, but I am forgetting some of the books.
Unfortunately, there is not as much time to read as one might expect. Not as much as I expected at least. As a result I have only completed the top 4 and am working on the 5th. Most of the time I try to ride as many miles as I can in a day, which usually ends with me rolling into a park just before dark. When I do turn in early I usually try to update the blog or do some reading. Tonight I had the opportunity to do both because I stopped riding at 3pm.
When I arrived at the city park in Iroquois, IL I decided to stop and enjoy the beautiful weather by just relaxing. I read a lot and here I am updating the blog. The town has relatively large park where they installed some showers for bikers a bit back. Mayor Jack Karr gave me the official Iroquois welcome in sweat pants, slippers, button-up shirt, and Chicago Bears winter hat. He reminds me of a character out of Grumpy Old Men. The hospitality of Iroquois is a welcome change from that of the Hillcrest Resort, where I stayed a few nights ago.
Hillcrest was all kinds of confused. Its a resort/country club/camp site/permanent trailer park. The first thing you see is the golf course. Its well maintained and though I'm not Tiger, it looked like a pretty easy course. Next you see what looks like should be the Pro-shop, but that's everything: Club house, bar, restaurant, locker rooms, the camp ranger station, everything in one small building. The best is yet to come though, because when you go into the campground you see a village of trailers (not mobile homes but trailers/5th wheels) on cinder blocks as if you left it parked overnight in the wrong neighborhood. They are all packed together in no recognizable order and some even have porches built onto them. Almost everyone of them is covered in Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and has a custom golf cart (rims, candy paint, sub-woofers...Pimp my Ride: Cart Style) parked in front of it. In addition to being the coolest neighborhood I have seen, I had the coldest shower of my life here.
Reading suggestions are welcome.
Marcus
-Life of Pi
-Dress your Family in Denim and Corduroy
-Where the Wild things are
-Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa puffs
-Travels with Charley
-On the road
-Stranger in the forest
-A Clockwork Orange
-Catch 22
I am certain the list is larger, but I am forgetting some of the books.
Unfortunately, there is not as much time to read as one might expect. Not as much as I expected at least. As a result I have only completed the top 4 and am working on the 5th. Most of the time I try to ride as many miles as I can in a day, which usually ends with me rolling into a park just before dark. When I do turn in early I usually try to update the blog or do some reading. Tonight I had the opportunity to do both because I stopped riding at 3pm.
When I arrived at the city park in Iroquois, IL I decided to stop and enjoy the beautiful weather by just relaxing. I read a lot and here I am updating the blog. The town has relatively large park where they installed some showers for bikers a bit back. Mayor Jack Karr gave me the official Iroquois welcome in sweat pants, slippers, button-up shirt, and Chicago Bears winter hat. He reminds me of a character out of Grumpy Old Men. The hospitality of Iroquois is a welcome change from that of the Hillcrest Resort, where I stayed a few nights ago.
Hillcrest was all kinds of confused. Its a resort/country club/camp site/permanent trailer park. The first thing you see is the golf course. Its well maintained and though I'm not Tiger, it looked like a pretty easy course. Next you see what looks like should be the Pro-shop, but that's everything: Club house, bar, restaurant, locker rooms, the camp ranger station, everything in one small building. The best is yet to come though, because when you go into the campground you see a village of trailers (not mobile homes but trailers/5th wheels) on cinder blocks as if you left it parked overnight in the wrong neighborhood. They are all packed together in no recognizable order and some even have porches built onto them. Almost everyone of them is covered in Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and has a custom golf cart (rims, candy paint, sub-woofers...Pimp my Ride: Cart Style) parked in front of it. In addition to being the coolest neighborhood I have seen, I had the coldest shower of my life here.
Reading suggestions are welcome.
Marcus
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Arnor and More
Before crossing the Missouri/Illinois border, and on a few occasions in western IL, I rode past some houses that were built into the ground. At first I assumed it was to conserve energy or possibly to avoid the damage from elements, but then I started to think where I had seen houses like this before. All of them were built at the base of a small hill, or maybe the hill was the house, but only one face of the houses were showing and earth covered the top of them. The strangest part was that even the portion of the house that was exposed, only had windows on occasion. It was like something straight out of the Shire. There were no sightings of the Hermits that lived in the earth covered houses, but farms with Shetland ponies were always nearby one of these houses. Wait...Hobbits can't ride full size horses...normal people don't live in the ground and Hobbits aren't normal people...it’s really green around here...I must be in the Shire! The realization that I was in Middle Earth triggered something that made me attempt to imitate Smeagol or Gollum every time I said anything.
Imitating the voices of fictional characters isn't the only thing that I am excelling at as of late, I am also becoming something of a bike touring chef. Riding into a state park a few days ago, I came across a farmers market. I didn't hesitate to stop and ended up leaving with a half dozen eggs and half of a watermelon. You may think those are two of the stupidest items that I could have picked up, especially considering that I don't carry any type of oil to cook with and I don't have a knife to cut the watermelon, and you would be absolutely correct. When I made it to my campsite for the night, I started to wonder what and better yet, how the hell I was going to cook these eggs. After a failed attempt at egg drop soup, I scrambled to find something that I could use to save the 6 eggs that I just threw in the pot. I found some ramen noodles that have been sitting in my bag for a long time and decided that would be my best bet. Without any plan of action or idea of what I was doing, I filled my pot up with a little more water and boiled up my MSG and egg covered noodles. This was one of the best meals that I have made on my own, on this trip! It was extremely filling and had a tolerable flavor from the ramen packets, what more could I ask for. The spaghetti and tuna that I make almost nightly has improved as well. Actually, I just bit the bullet and bought a bottle of sauce that had seasoning mixed in as opposed to the cans of straight up tomato sauce. I suppose I can’t really take credit for that one.
After trying to come up with other delicious meals that I could write about, I realize that my cooking has not really improved at all…I just made a lucky save by throwing ramen noodles in a thick egg broth.
Though I can’t cook it, Chinese food is one of my favorite things to eat. Aledo, IL is home to the annual Rhubarb Fest and also my new favorite Chinese food restaurant. Hong Kong Restaurant in Aledo had the best Chinese food that I have eaten since a place in Denver, The Jade Café, closed 2 years ago. When I arrived in Aledo I asked around for restaurant recommendations and everyone said “that Chinese place.” Nobody knew the name, but they all knew where to find it, “that Chinese place is good!”
No more about my eating habits for awhile. I am currently at my home in Naperville, IL. My Dad came and picked me up when I was nearby. I have spent my day off relaxing, tuning and cleaning my bike, and I even picked up a new set of tires. If anyone ever considers doing a bike tour, I would recommend using Schwalbe Marathon Plus tires. I rode 3400 miles and only had 1 flat tire as a result of a puncture. From hear I have about 1500 miles left to ride to Bar Harbor, ME and even less to Portland, ME (my final destination).
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Illinois: Land of the Red Rider
Today I rode my bike over the Mississippi River, or as I've heard it called around here, the Miss'ippi River and into Quincy, IL. It has been a rough couple days getting here though. After cleaning off my bike in St. Louis, it was covered in limestone dust from the Katy trail after only 5 miles. My bike is finally starting to show the wear and tear from the trip and so am I. One of my panniers lost a screw and broke loose while I was riding yesterday, the pedals and bottom bracket sound sick, and the seat post is slipping. Pains for me are minimal, but I do have a bit of pain in the front of my right knee. I am going to blame this on the slipping seat post causing a poor riding posture, but lets hope it goes away soon. While adjusting and tightening the seat post this morning, I managed to break the bolt that hold it in place...AWESOME! I rode a few miles out of town to a hardware store with my seat spinning behind me. Once I finally rode over the river, I was completely relieved and all was well.
Missouri wasn't terrible, but it was not my favorite state. The last 30 miles that I rode in the state were easily the worst. The knee pain may have contributed, but the hills/bluffs along the Mississippi are terrible. I might even go as far as to say they were worse than parts of the Rockies. The Rockies have passes with 1000-3000ft. climbs...but they are over 5 to 30 miles Missouri did not have any concern for cars, bikes, or anything else that might find its way onto a hill, and as a result has some very steep grades. There were multiple climbs where my front wheel came off of the ground! This has been a painful stretch of road.
The only person/touring cyclist that I have seen in the past couple of days was a British guy. He is riding from Boston to Los Angeles and has been on the road for almost 2 months. I am not sure when he was planning to finish or how many miles he has done so far, but that seems like a long time to have only made it to the Mississippi. I suppose I have no room to speak though, as I have been on the road for over 2 months and still have 1700 miles to go, I finally calculated it. Tomorrow I will ride through Iowa and begin my ride along the Northern Tier trail, the final 1600 miles of the trip. I am excited because for the first time, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. The next few weeks are going to be tougher with less sunlight, but it is starting to cool down which makes a BIG difference, especially at night. The past couple of nights I haven't been sweating in my sleep.
Leaving St. Louis, I had to stop at a Verizon and have them replace my phone. The charging port and the select button were both broken. As a result, I have to apologize to anyone who may have tried to call or text me in the past week or so. If you have not received a reply, it is because I didn't receive whatever you may have sent me. If you were expecting a call from me and haven't received one, it is because I no longer have any contacts in my phone...I love my Verizon Crackberry.
My 20 minutes at the public library are up, thanks for reading and thanks for the support! More to come as soon as I get into digital service.
-Marcus
Missouri wasn't terrible, but it was not my favorite state. The last 30 miles that I rode in the state were easily the worst. The knee pain may have contributed, but the hills/bluffs along the Mississippi are terrible. I might even go as far as to say they were worse than parts of the Rockies. The Rockies have passes with 1000-3000ft. climbs...but they are over 5 to 30 miles Missouri did not have any concern for cars, bikes, or anything else that might find its way onto a hill, and as a result has some very steep grades. There were multiple climbs where my front wheel came off of the ground! This has been a painful stretch of road.
The only person/touring cyclist that I have seen in the past couple of days was a British guy. He is riding from Boston to Los Angeles and has been on the road for almost 2 months. I am not sure when he was planning to finish or how many miles he has done so far, but that seems like a long time to have only made it to the Mississippi. I suppose I have no room to speak though, as I have been on the road for over 2 months and still have 1700 miles to go, I finally calculated it. Tomorrow I will ride through Iowa and begin my ride along the Northern Tier trail, the final 1600 miles of the trip. I am excited because for the first time, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. The next few weeks are going to be tougher with less sunlight, but it is starting to cool down which makes a BIG difference, especially at night. The past couple of nights I haven't been sweating in my sleep.
Leaving St. Louis, I had to stop at a Verizon and have them replace my phone. The charging port and the select button were both broken. As a result, I have to apologize to anyone who may have tried to call or text me in the past week or so. If you have not received a reply, it is because I didn't receive whatever you may have sent me. If you were expecting a call from me and haven't received one, it is because I no longer have any contacts in my phone...I love my Verizon Crackberry.
My 20 minutes at the public library are up, thanks for reading and thanks for the support! More to come as soon as I get into digital service.
-Marcus
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Peter Fox is my doppelganger
The rest of my time in Kansas was painful and hilarious. Shortly after the last time that I updated my blog I stopped for the night at the Council Grove City Lake. Even though they didn't have showers, I was elated to be near a body of water deep enough to swim in. I was camping near the boat ramp and marina and did not see anyone swimming at all. I went down by the marina and asked Bob, the retired army who worked 5 days a week at the marina to escape his wife, if there was a specific spot or maybe a beach designated for swimming. He gave the most sarcastic response he could think of, "yeah, uh, well I think they designated the water for swimming in". Thanks Bob. After swimming for a while I decided to go talk with Bob, who was drinking a can of Busch lite and watching teenage girls get in and out of boats on the dock or "taking in the views" as he described it. Bob was probably about 65-70 years old and looked like he could be the grandfather of Cousin Eddie from the movie Vacation. He was wearing overalls with no shirt, a cowboy hat, nicely shined black shoes, and had the creepiest mustache I have ever seen. To be honest I wasn't sure if it was actually a mustache or just a row of wiry white hairs that he had missed while shaving his top lip. He had shaved all of the hair on his face except for a line of hairs on the edge of his top lip, which were long enough to curl down into his mouth. When he wasn't sipping Busch lite he was licking these hairs. The conversation was strange and seemed to always come back to the idea that, "women didn't look like that (the girls getting on and off the boats) when I was your age". At one point Bob offered me a beer saying, "I have Bud and Busch lite". I was feeling dehydrated and declined his offer. "You know why I like Busch?" I prepared myself for a raunchy joke. "I frequently misplace things and when I find my beer a day or two later, I can actually drink it if its Busch." I chuckled a bit and upon realizing that he was serious didn't know what to say. I responded with "well I usually try to finish my beers in a day." To which he replied, "You know, that's not always possible the way I lose things and I am sure not going to let a good beer go to waste." Speaking with Bob was an experience I will not soon forget.
My ride to Council Grove was very windy, but the night I spent there was hands down the windiest I have been in. On multiple occasions the wind was hitting the tent so hard that it tore the tent stakes right out of the ground, practically collapsing it on me. The first time it happened I woke up flustered and started packing my things up half asleep. When I realized what I was doing and what time it was, everything except for the tent was on the bike ready to go. At this point I just left the stuff packed and slept on the floor of the tent without anything under me. Needless to say, it was not a great night sleep.
The ride the next day was disheartening because I only made it 60 miles but rode for nearly 7 hours. It was a struggle to find the motivation to keep riding at under 10 mph. The only thing that kept me going was that the more miles I rode, the closer I would be to the Katy Trail and a much needed change in scenery. The next night I was delighted to stop at another spot with a lake and a place to shower. I spent most of my night enjoying both of these and even traded the time I would have spent preparing dinner for a little extra time swimming. My mother will cringe after reading this next part, but from that night on I found myself buying and eating more canned foods straight from the can. It tastes the same and it saves you the hassle of cooking and cleaning. Beans, Chef Boyardee, canned fruit, chili, and the worst, which I'm slightly embarrassed to say, was a can of Campbell's condensed beef soup straight from the can. Not surprisingly, condensed soup is much better with water and heat. After opening my bag in the dark one night, I found the can of soup right on top. I held it in my hand hoping to find something that didn't require cooking, but was disappointed when the only other thing I had was spaghetti. Initially, I dismissed the idea without much consideration. But after getting out my stove and searching for a place to set it up, the vegetable and beef filled gelatin started to sound better and better. Finally, after opening it and sampling the soup, I choked down the first spoonful. I convinced myself that it wasn't as bad as it was, but looking back on it, it was awful.
A couple notes about Kansas before I move on to Missouri. I did not see a single sunflower in the sunflower state. Kansas is the windiest state I have ever been to. I picked up a state road map, the free one provided by the Kansas Department of Transportation, and on the front of it, it said, "Kansas...as big as you think." This is false. Kansas is bigger than anyone ever thought. I don't even think that most residents of Kansas realize how big the place is. Everything is bigger in Texas, but Kansas isn't as confident as Texas, so they're going to let you decide how big you think Kansas is. If you drive highways 96 and 56 I think you would agree with me that Kansas is huge. In every state except for Missouri, people driving cars will occasionally wave to me. In Oregon, most people throw up a peace sign. Idaho, Wyoming and Colorado folk generally give a full on wave. Kansas seems to be the exception though. Almost every car I passed in Kansas acknowledged me in some way, but the most common was to point at you with a index finger. The first time I saw this I wasn't sure if the driver was doing this as a threat, as if to say, "Watch yourself...I'm gonna get you sucka!" or if he was simply saying, "you're the man now dawg!" but either way I was confused. Having finished the state and being pointed at a couple hundred times, I think its just a friend hello.
Missouri lays claim to the worst roads that I have ridden to date and the possibly the worst drivers I have ever seen. Upon arriving in the show me state, I took a very long detour as a result of road construction. I now know to avoid roads identified with a letter and to never, under any circumstances, ride roads that are titled with two letters. State route Y in Missouri is in desperate need of a fresh layer of asphalt and lines on the road. State route YY should have the remaining asphalt ground up and turned into a gravel or dirt road. While riding YY I felt like I was playing connect the dots, my bike being the pen and the pot holes at the dots. Changing subjects, I am pretty convinced that the title "show me state" is referring to firearms because I have seen more gun racks in cars here then anywhere in the country. The best one was in a Buick. Drivers in Missouri don't know how to react when they see me riding. Most slow down to my speed and wait for about a minute before passing me. Others have waited for me to stop or turn off, and the best was a couple that honked while cruising behind me at 15 mph and then waved as if to tell me to move off of the road so that they could pass. After dealing with this for a couple hundred miles, I was delighted to get off of the roads and onto the longest "Rails to Trails" path in the country.
The Katy Trail is a 240 mile crushed limestone bike path that runs almost the entire way across Missouri. Formerly the Missouri, Kansas, Texas Railway, the old tracks have been removed and the route is open to hikers and bikers looking to enjoy the heat, humidity, and wide varieties of bugs found along the Missouri River. Getting onto the path was a wonderful change of pace. There is no traffic, there are stops with bathrooms and water every 10-20 miles, and best of all there is tree cover. My first day on the Katy Trail was a crazy day. I arrived at the trail head in Clinton, MO to find 2 guys from the University of Oklahoma. Nick, a 25 year old recently graduated, and Gabe, a 28 year old with another year to go who looked like he was a frequent participant in his local SCA chapter. (www.SCA.org) Easily the best pony tail I have seen on a man or woman in years! In addition to these 2 was a Father with his son and daughter from Texas. They were on a family vacation touring the Katy Trail . (Great family vacation...or GREATEST family vacation!) It seemed that he was taking a lot of heat for the idea. The family took off shortly before me and the other guys did. After talking with them and riding for a bit I thought for sure I would have to ditch them by the end of the day if I wanted to make it anywhere, but I was enjoying the company and conversation so I stuck around. Maybe 5 miles into the ride, we came across the family that we had me earlier and they were having trouble with their tandem bike. We figured out what was going on and helped out with some tools. Once everything was straightened out, we introduced ourselves. When the father said his name was Charlie Brown I laughed thinking that he was kidding around. "Really?" We said. "Yeah really. Well Charles Brown, but I go by Charlie." He spells it with an "-ey" at the end, but I am going to spell it like the character for dramatic effect...Sorry Charley. A few things ran through my head. First, that I just helped fix the bike of one of the most well know and unlucky characters of all time. Second, I thought it was awesome that Charlie fully embraced his name and was even wearing a yellow shirt. Finally, I may have just met the guy with the worst middle school experience of all time.
All of us continued on the trail and eventually stopped at some local cafe where Charlie Brown bought us lunch. That's right, Charley Brown bought me lunch. As I sat eating with all of these people I said to the other 2 guys, "they'll never believe us." But I have proof. If you look at the names of the people following this blog, you with see Charley Brown that the most recognizable Peanut of all time is following along. Thanks again for lunch Charley!
We left lunch just after a woman stopped to inform us that there was a horrendous storm coming our way with wind gust between 50-80 mph. Not even 20 miles down the road, we ran into another guy. Justin was having trouble with his tires, 3 flats in one day. Thinking how well the last encounter I had was, I decided to stop and help the guy out. We patched his tire, only to have the patch give out before he had his bike loaded back up. Reluctantly, I gave him my last spare innertube knowing that there was a bad storm on the way and a bike shop in the next town. We arrived in Sedalia, MO just as the storm started to hit. Hungry and unsure where the bike shop was, we stopped in at a Chinese Buffet to wait out the storm. As we were leaving I noticed that my front tire was looking low and decided to pump it up before leaving for the bike shop. As I put the pump on the valve the whole top portion broke off letting out all of the air in the tube. This was bound to happen and has reinforced the idea that you never give away your last innertube...ever! Still unsure where and how far the bike shop was, I looked it up and gave a call. Closed. Of course they were closed. Why wouldn't they be? I was forced to walk to and camp out at the Missouri State Fairgrounds until the bike shop opened. I was later informed by my Dad that Sedalia, specifically the MSF was home to a huge music fest even bigger than Woodstock. There was not a trace of towns history anywhere to be found, but after a couple of Google searches I found that the Ozark Music Festival of 1974 was one of the largest music festivals of all time. (http://rodsievers.googlepages.com/ozarkmusicfestival) It drew over 250,000 people to the place I camped and in a Senate investigation was recognized as a weekend of "sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll." It was cool to read the history of the place that I was camped at. I had my tent right beside the Sheep Pavilion, which I later read was the location of a "sex orgy, with hundreds spectators." This was the first time that I had ever heard of the OMF and proceeded to ask every person that I had a conversation with on the Katy trail, especially Missouri residents, if they had heard of the Festival. Not a single person knew anything. Nobody had even heard about it. I was shocked, but still think its awesome that I was able to stay there.
The next morning I arrived at Cecil's Cyclery where I picked up some tubes and talked with the old guy that owned the place for a little while. He specialized in old Chicago made Schwinn bicycles and even had a couple in their original boxes. I think I will return and buy a bike from Cecil at some point in the near future. I left Sedalia and continued down the Katy trail happy to have the spare parts I needed and a new found interest in the Ozark Music Festival. If nothing else, it gave me something new to think and read about when I wasn't on the bike.
The rest of the Katy trail was kind of rough, literally. The further along the Katy trail I rode, the more I found large pot holes or places where rain water washed out large 1-2 foot sections of limestone. The actual trail was getting difficult to ride without a mountain bike. One of the last days that I was riding it, I hit a huge wash out and broke a spoke for the second time this trip. I was about 10 miles from the nearest town and it was getting dark. I rode in the pitch black tunnel of trees with nothing but a small headlamp to guide me. I hit several more bumps and arrived at a campsite and began setting up my tent when my headlamp went out. I was angry, frustrated and trying to stay positive when the headlamp went out and I lost it. I let out a rant that was more colorful than the crowd of people that showed up in Sedalia in 1974 and went to bed shortly after finishing my condensed soup.
The next day I woke up ready to fix my spoke to find I no longer had the tool I needed to do so. I rode the 10 miles into Herman, MO where I found a bike shop and had the spoke replaced. I spent a few more hours in Herman touring the many wineries in the city. After close to a bottle worth of sampling, I was picked up by my good friend Kevin whom I haven't seen in a long time. I was elated to see him! Kevin picked me up and drove me back to St. Louis where I was planning on hanging out for the weekend. On the phone Kevin asked me, "if I drive you, doesn't that go against the ethos of the trip?" I agreed that it did, but I was willing to make exceptions reflecting on the time I had trying to get out of Denver and the condition the Katy trail was in as of late.
St. Louis has been a blast! My stay has included a whole lot of delicious and fattening foods, admiring architecture, and a lot of baseball. I hate the Cardinals even more after spending time here. I have been alternating time at Kevin's apartment in the city and my friend Tim's parents house in the suburbs. A new slogan, motto, mantra, or rule to live by has been adopted in my time spent here in St. Louis. To preface the tag line, I must tell a story. A few nights ago, I was at the house of one of Tim's high school friends. After a few beers we decided to climb onto the roof. We spent a decent amount of time up there telling stories and hanging out until we got bored and decided to go back inside. As we stood up and got ready to climb down, Tim's friend Justin stops, looks at us and says, "Fortune favors the bold," and proceeds to leap off of the roof...in flip flops! Sure that he was going to have a few broken bones from the way he landed, Tim says to me "this is going to be an awesome ride to the hospital." We asked Justin if he had broken his ankles to which he responded "no but I did knock the wind out of myself pretty good." Fortune favors the bold defined the rest of the night and madness ensued. This is a dangerous motto, but I feel it is fitting for my trip and have decided to adopt it as the official slogan.
-Marcus
Friday, August 7, 2009
Rock Chalk Jayhawk
One thing I find interesting about traveling around the country, on bike or otherwise, is seeing how much thing cost in different places. For example, today I saw a case of 30 PBR's for just $10.99! I have bought a few 30 racks before but never have I seen one for less than $15. If beer had been this cheap while I was still in school, I would have a lot more money...or a serious problem. On the flip side, I didn't buy tuna the last time I saw it because it was $1.69, that's almost 5 beers in Kansas!
Another thing you can't miss being on the road in the summer is RV's, trailers, 5th wheels, and pop-up campers. Though they are a hazard to everything on the road it is fun to see their names and the ridiculous accessories that come out of them when they park. Most are named after cats or national parks liken The Panther, The Cougar, or Yellowstone. None of the animals that the names come from have anything in common with campers and why would you want to name something you are going to be living in after a predatory cat? My favorites are names which were clearly painted on by the owner and include Puma Unleashed, The Sloth, and Inefficiency. Accessories include full patio sets with grills and TVs connected to a dish...I think Direct TV needs to start targeting the mobile market. They are really missing out on a huge demographic.
The heat in combination with the humidity has really started to wear on me. Today I drank a total of 8 liters of water, a half gallon of orange juice, and 2 Pepsi's and only took one pee. If nothing else this is the best cleanse of my life. Even though the heat is much worse, I feel more comfortable when I do get into towns because the people here are very nice. Out West when I would walk in somewhere people would stare and the few I said hi to might say hi back, or they might just ignore me and walk away as quick as possible. The people in Kansas still stare but they'll joke around too. One woman today looked at me and laughed saying "nice shorts Mr. Armstrong". While stopped in a parking lot another woman came up to me and offered me some cucumbers that she was bringing to her mother. No matter how nice the people are though, I still can't wait to get out of Kansas.
Marcus
Another thing you can't miss being on the road in the summer is RV's, trailers, 5th wheels, and pop-up campers. Though they are a hazard to everything on the road it is fun to see their names and the ridiculous accessories that come out of them when they park. Most are named after cats or national parks liken The Panther, The Cougar, or Yellowstone. None of the animals that the names come from have anything in common with campers and why would you want to name something you are going to be living in after a predatory cat? My favorites are names which were clearly painted on by the owner and include Puma Unleashed, The Sloth, and Inefficiency. Accessories include full patio sets with grills and TVs connected to a dish...I think Direct TV needs to start targeting the mobile market. They are really missing out on a huge demographic.
The heat in combination with the humidity has really started to wear on me. Today I drank a total of 8 liters of water, a half gallon of orange juice, and 2 Pepsi's and only took one pee. If nothing else this is the best cleanse of my life. Even though the heat is much worse, I feel more comfortable when I do get into towns because the people here are very nice. Out West when I would walk in somewhere people would stare and the few I said hi to might say hi back, or they might just ignore me and walk away as quick as possible. The people in Kansas still stare but they'll joke around too. One woman today looked at me and laughed saying "nice shorts Mr. Armstrong". While stopped in a parking lot another woman came up to me and offered me some cucumbers that she was bringing to her mother. No matter how nice the people are though, I still can't wait to get out of Kansas.
Marcus
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