Intermission

7/21/09

After several text messages, emails, phone calls, and threats from curious readers, my concerned family, stalkers, and those with no other way to procrastinate at work, I have decided to write an update. The last time that I wrote, I was in Lander, WY. I took a day off there to hang out with some locals and a hundreds of other people in town for an annual climbing festival. My day off consisted of visiting a local ice cream shop, riding around town, updating my blog, talking with some people that have given their lives to faith and eventually led me to the Lander Bar.

Early in the afternoon, I returned to the city park where I was staying to find 4 or 5 Amish looking folks pulling in on bicycles, spread all around the park. I immediately started laughing, thinking about the about the last group that I ran into on the train. I did not hesitate to go up and greet them. The men all had long beards with hair that looked like it was cut by hand. They wore blue jeans, blue collared shirts and covered up with a large tan art smock sort of thing. The women wore plain off-white dresses and had clearly not cut their hair in a long, long time. I remember thinking that one of the women would get her hair caught in the spokes of her bike while riding and began laughing at the mental image of her head being pulled back while riding. This was at a most inopportune time because she and another were walking past and looked over in disgust as I chuckled quietly. The first person I spoke with was lady who was extremely shy. She seemed to have a very hard time coming up with more than a yes or no answer as I asked her about their trip. After a very short conversation she insisted that I go speak with a guy who was pulling up to a picnic table.

Jerry was young looking guy with graying reddish brown hair and an awesome beard! He carried a briefcase and a guitar on his back. When I sat down and introduced myself we had the general bike touring conversation, where are you going? Where are you from? How long have you been out? What’s your daily mileage? It turns out that the group is not on a bike tour at all. They are a group of 22 that travel around the country trying to live their lives as early Christians did. They do not affiliate with any church, but instead try to read the bible in as many different languages and religions as possible. Jerry explained to me that they have all dedicated their lives to faith and simply let God direct where they go and what they do. No one in the group owns anything other than what they have on their bikes and Jerry estimates that he spends less than $700 each year. They get buy on dumpster diving at grocery stores, people that offer to put them up for a night or two, living in farming communes, and occasionally buying what they need. I was around for a conversation that Jerry had with a “Sister” named Ashira, regarding how they were going to restock on toilet paper by asking for the half-used rolls being thrown away at a local hotel. I spoke with the two for a bit, mostly just inquiring about their lives. Jerry has read the bible in English, Hebrew, and Greek and several times in each language. After speaking with Jerry for a while he pulled out a 16 page hand written essay on his philosophy on life and religion. It was covered with a piece of tie-dyed paper and was titled Earth’s Tears. Jerry handed it to me saying “this is what I have come up with as an explanation of how I see the world. I am not giving it to you because I think you should believe the same, but because if you understand how I see the world, than maybe you will have tolerance for others like me and eventually for everyone”. Before our conversation ended, Jerry and Ashira gave me a pocket version of the New Testament and a bookmark that said “Peace” but if read backwards said “shalom”. They wished me safe travels and I was on my way.

At around 4pm I ran into some of the locals that I met at the city park, Kyle, Cash, Mike, and Andrea. Kyle is a 26 year old with 2 DUI's, 0 front teeth, and a million stories. He works at a local climbing shop and offers to let anyone borrow his car that wants to since he hasn’t gotten his license back yet. Cash is a younger guy too, also with 2 DUI's but one of his was in Arizona, so when he wants to drive somewhere he has to blow into a breathalyzer mounted in his car. He has a handyman business that he runs and seems to be doing ok for himself. Mike and Andrea are dating and live in the Lander City Park. Their lease on a house in Lander expired and they are hanging in the park until it their new lease begins in Fort Collins. They are moving there so Andrea can finish up school at Colorado State. In the meantime they climb a whole lot and volunteer at City events like the climbing festival. Anyway, I ran into them in the park and after hanging out and talking for a while, they suggested that I go get something to eat and hang out at Lander Bar, the only bar in the city of Lander (Landerbar.com). I took their advice and upon sitting down at the bar struck up a conversation with some guy that had just finished up a NOLS course and was waiting for his old college buddies. He clearly had a head start on them and did not hesitate to buy me a beer. His name was Mike and he was from Woodstock, IL. We talked for a while/he talked for a while, telling stories about his most recent NOLS course, his outdoor experiences and travels, and made sure that I understood the value of being able to just go out into the wild and plan your own trips rather than hiring someone to guide you. After Mike’s lesson, I was about ready to take off and see what else I could find in Lander. As I was finishing the burger that I bought and getting ready to take care of my bill, Kyle and Cash walked in and sat down on the stools next to me. They were excited to see me here and Kyle “bought” a round for the 3 of us and another guy that bar tends at Lander Bar but wasn’t working. After being served, Kyle asked “how much do I owe you?” The bar tender looked at Kyle and then at the other bar tender not working and said “how much do you want to pay?” Kyle looked somewhat dumbfounded, hesitated and responded “$1.87”. After seeing this, I did not buy a single drink without including the off shift bar tender, Kyle, and Cash. We switched off buying rounds all night, the whole time I had no idea how much of what I was ordering was actually being put on my tab. At around 7 o’clock the rest of the climbing festival showed up for the Kick-Off celebration. Being that I had been hanging out all night with Lander locals, people started to confuse me for one, including the new bar tender when he asked how long I had lived in Lander for. The strange thing about Lander was that the whole time I was there I didn’t meet a single person born and raised in the town. Everyone had moved there from somewhere else and was jus adopted as a local.

The evenings events included a pull-up competition, climbing videos on the wall of the bar, and outside on the patio and small yard beside the bar, live music. I had some interesting conversation that night with some guys from Boulder, CO, a couple from Paris, and then some old guy who was over served that thought I was one of his old climbing buddies from Arkansas. I spent most of the evening talking with these people until a blue grass band started playing and a hoe down broke out in the yard of the bar. The locals that I had met, some of the climbers and me decided that we were going to dance. None of us knew what the hell we were doing or how to dance to what these guys were playing so it turned into a combination of foot stomping, spinning, clapping, and everything that you would expect to see around 1am at a hoe down. The dancing really took a turn when some guy started doing something that resembled a James Brown imitation. After that it was anything goes and things got really ugly, there was even a mosh pit. With this I decided I had had enough dancing and decided I would head back to my tent. I was surprised to see that my tab had only amounted to $17 with food. This was definitely a few beers short, but I signed off and rode my bike back.

I woke up in the morning feeling awesome and decided to have a bowl of ibuprofen for breakfast. People had already started setting up for the festival and the events were underway. I stuck around to see the sponsor tables and the first couple rounds of crate stacking. Crate stacking is where you take milk crates and stack them one on top of the next while balancing on the stack. It has got to be ridiculously hard and even thought you were tied in to a rope hanging from a tree the falls still looked like they were painful. I talked with the locals about the previous night and had some good laughs before cleaning up and saying goodbye. I was considering staying another couple nights, but they said that the festival pretty much disappears into the mountains after the first day so there wasn’t much more to see. I left at around 11am with every intention of riding 125 miles to Rawlins, WY that day followed by another 100 the day after which would land me in Laramie.

The 91 miles that I rode along highway 287 that day was something special. There 3 towns, 2 cafes, and 1 gas station. I filled up on water in Jeffrey City, an old ghost town that had at one time been home to several thousand people who worked at a Uranium mine. But after the Uranium ran out, there was no need for the town anymore either. There are two buildings in the town that are still in use. The first is the café where I stopped for some food and a refill on water. When I pulled up there was only pickup truck in front of the place. Knowing that this would be the only place to get water, I went in and found an old lady sitting at the bar playing poker on the internet, on 3 different laptops all at the same time. She looked like the lady down the street growing up that was overweight and had grey hair…you know, the one that everyone was scared to death of because she was a witch. The bar was long with only a few stools and plenty of space between them. 2 round tables were on the floor and did a terrible job of filling the room. The booze was untouched. There were 8 different bottles behind the counter and not one of them had been opened. Without turning around the woman said “Can I help you?” she sounded mad that I had interrupted her. At first I was just going to get some water and then get the hell out of there, but after hearing her say that I figured I would probably be more welcome if I bought some food, so I asked for a menu. The woman said, “Well what do you want?” They didn’t have menus. What restaurant doesn’t have menus? I didn’t know what to say so I just asked for a cheeseburger. “Fries too?” I said that would be great. She went into the back room and a couple of kids came out asking why I was riding my bike. I’m not really sure what I said but it didn’t entertain them and they just ran back after saying “that’s weird”. Next a man came out of some other door with a baby and before the door closed two more women came out. They talked to themselves and said hi to me before the old woman came back with a glass of ice water and some condiments. Another couple followed her from out of the kitchen. “Where the hell are all of these people coming from?!?!” I thought to myself, there was only one car in the parking lot! When another woman came from somewhere else and I started to watch the massive LCD TV that they had. Big Daddy was on. After about 10 minutes the chef came out with a cheese burger and fries, of course there was a chef back there. I sat and ate quietly until the old woman came up and started to tell me about how much she hated bicyclists and how they are usually “big city assholes that think were a bunch of cow dicks! You seem pretty nice though, most just come in here ask for some water and leave!” Thank God I asked for that menu! While I was eating some guy came in, sat down at the bar and asked for a 6 pack. The old woman gave him 3 bottles and 3 cans and then he just left. No wonder the bottles at the bar were unopened, this place was also the liquor store. Before I left she offered to fill up my water bottles and even put ice in them for me.

The second in Jeffery City is an old gas station that was converted to a pottery store by a guy named Byron. It’s called Monk King Bird Pottery (http://monkingbirdpottery.com/Home.html). I did not have the chance to meet Byron, but I heard that he is a really cool guy from everyone I met in Lander. I was told that you have not truly experienced Wyoming until you have hung out with Byron. Unfortunately he was not around when I got to Monk King, so I will have to return at some point. The next stop on my way was a gas station just outside of Muddy Gap, WY. It was a gas station that charged $.50 to fill up each water bottle and had a $10 minimum to use Debit cards. I didn’t have any cash on me but did have enough change for one water bottle. The guy refused to let me fill up the other water bottles so I continued with one. Before leaving some Swedish guys came up to the gas station. I gave them the heads up on water but they decided to camp at the gas station anyway. They informed me that I would have some strong head winds on the next portion of the ride, but I willing to give up on my 125 mile attempt yet.
After another couple of hours I came to Lamont, WY and Grandma’s Café. The café was in terrible shape and didn’t look like it was still in use. It was the only building in the town and I figured it was probably abandoned. It was getting pretty late and with 35 miles to go and no water, I pulled off the road. After looking at my maps to see what the next town was and giving a call home to see if someone could look something up for me, an older guy came out of Grandma’s and asked if I needed any help. He said I could camp out in back of the place and was welcome to use the bathrooms and sink. I convinced myself that 91 miles was still pretty good for the day, especially considering the night before, and decided to call it a night. I set up camp behind the diner ate some spaghetti with a can of chili before trying to find the guy that invited me to stay. His name was Cliff and I found him inside of the diner smoking cigarettes, doing a crossword puzzle, and watching Are you smarter than a 5th Grader? With special guest, Larry the Cable Guy. Cliff was only 45 but he looked like he was 60. He was unemployed and was helping out his parents by running things around the diner until he found something else. When I told him that I came from Lander that day, he said “Whoa, there’s a different place for you. Lander sure is an interesting bunch.” He was a nice guy and it was interesting talking with him. I went to bed early that night hoping that I could get a good start the next morning.

I woke up at 5:40 that morning and had left Lamont and Grandma’s Diner by 6:30 I was happy to be on the road and on my way just as the sun was rising. I pulled into to Rawlins before 9am only to find that nothing was open in the town except for an Amish Bakery and Discount food store. “HAHA…We meet again!” I thought as I walked past a couple of Amish women. I took special not of their footwear, not Reebok but Asics. Either way they were made in a sweatshop somewhere in Asia. I was surprised at how cheap everything was; open boxes of cereal, expired granola bars, brown bananas…it was all at least 50% off! I stuck with the stuff from the bakery which was also quite cheap. I bought an 8 pack of doughnuts for $1 and ordered some waffles. I ate all of it before I left there and picked up a couple of dented cans of tuna and beans for later that day.

At Rawlins, highway 287 joins up with Interstate 80, so I had no choice but to ride on the shoulder with cars passing me at 80mph. I was sure to take picture of this! Where 287 separates from 80 there is a small gas station. I stopped in filled up with water and asked the guy if taking 287 to Laramie instead of 80 would add many miles. He said “yeah, maybe 7 or 8” as he sat there smoking a cigarette while hooked up to an oxygen tank. Thinking that I had 135 miles to Laramie from the start of the day I figured 7 or 8 more miles couldn’t hurt. I decided that locals are not to be trusted on distances when at mile 135 I saw a sign that said “Laramie 16 miles”. Between Rawlins and Laramie there is not much. Medicine Bow, WY had a gas station and Bosler was a ghost town. There must have been 40 or so houses and buildings in Bosler but I found out once I got to Laramie that only 1 person lives there, and he lives in the old abandoned school building. I had strongly considered stopping here, but as I was riding through the town I had to ride at least 14 mph if I wanted to keep from getting bitten by mosquitoes. At 13mph you would still get bitten, but 14mph was just fast enough to keep them off of you. There were a couple of times when I put up with the swarms of mosquitoes biting me just so that I could have pictures of the houses that are falling apart. The last 20 miles into Laramie was possibly the hardest of the trip. Not only was I 130 miles in on the day, there was a huge storm in front of me and a head wind that kept me from going over 15mph. I was out of breath the whole time, but was doing my best not to breathe too hard because every time I did I inhaled a mosquito. I managed to avoid all of the rain and pulled into Laramie at around 7pm. My first stop was at Little Caesar’s for a $5 large pizza. I sat and ate it in the shop and finished it in about 10 minutes. As I was throwing the box away the guy behind the counter said “wait did you just finish that whole thing?” I said yeah. “Holy Shit! That guy ate that in like 7 minutes, “ he said to his co-worker and told me to look at my receipt to see how long it actually took. I had already thrown it away, but I doubt it was less than 10 minutes. I am thinking I should go into competitive eating after this trip if I can’t find a job elsewhere.

I ended up riding 151 miles that day and made it into Laramie. I figured I would get a hotel room for the night so I could take a shower and get some good sleep. As I started checking with motels, I found that few had nothing available as a result of the Rodeo that was in town. I really like Laramie because the people were so friendly and accommodating to bikers. When I pulled out of one motel, my water bladder, which holds a gallon of water for me and has saved me on several occasions, fell off the side of my bike. I turned into a parking lot to go back and just as I saw it, some cowboy and his friends in their truck swerved out of their way to hit and burst it. They turned and laughed at me as they drove past. I can’t describe how angry I was. Shortly after this another car drove past as close as possible honking the horn and the woman in the passenger seat stuck her head out the window to shout “get the fuck off the road asshole!!!” I was honked at a few more times before I made it to the hotel and was ready to chase down the next car that did anything.

Surprisingly, I didn’t feel all that terrible when I got to my room. I wasn’t sore, I was happy to be out off the street and I actually had some energy. Despite this, I showered, stretched, drank as much water as I could and went to bed knowing that I probably wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.

I woke up and my worst fears were confirmed, I could not walk. That’s an exaggeration but it was easily the sorest day of the trip! Luckily most of the ride to Fort Collins, CO was downhill. I started late that day, it was around 10am when I left, but still managed to cross the Wyoming/Colorado border before Noon. I was also impressed that I did it with just 2 liters of water and got into Fort Collins, my intended destination for the day by 1pm. I didn’t eat any breakfast before leaving that day and made my first stop at a McDonalds when I got in. I ordered 8 dollars worth of food off of the dollar menu. During lunch I started calling up my friends in Fort Collins and Denver. I was only able to get a hold of 2 people, 1 in Fort Collins, Jamie and 1 in Denver, Tim. My good friend Jamie met up with me at the New Belgium Brewery where we were going to do a tour but they were closed. We ended up just hanging out and catching up before I took off for Denver at around 4pm. Tim was the main cause for me riding another 67 miles that day. When I talked with him on the phone he said, “Why wouldn’t you ride down to Denver tonight? You should not tell anyone else and then just surprise everyone!” I knew why I didn’t want to ride to Denver but it sounded like a great plan and I am easily convinced so I continued on my way to Denver. The ride was long and had very small shoulders on the road. I wound up riding down Federal Blvd. in Denver until I arrived at my final destination at 10:30pm, well after the sun went down.

After 127 miles that day and nearly 370 in the past 3 days, being greeted with hugs and a bottle of champagne from some of my best friends was an amazing feeling! It was so amazing that I decided I didn’t want to leave and I am still here now. Well to be honest I didn’t want to try and ride 1000 miles in 9 days to make it in time for the wedding. Instead I will fly from Denver back to Chicago, go to my cousin Cathy’s wedding and then return to Denver and resume my trek across the country. I will post an update soon on what I have been up to here in Denver with my friends, but figure this will do for now!

Sorry again for the late update, I hope you enjoy!

Marcus