We just got to Madison and are hanging out at our cousin Nick's! Hard to believe we are only a day's ride from home. Wrote this one yesterday at the cottage:
We arrived in Wisconsin five days ago. Perhaps it was angry we had left it, for it felt that we were welcomed home with a vengeance. Immediately after crossing the border, we were panting up a steep hill on a very busy highway with no shoulder. We paused to take some pictures with the Wisconsin sign (the best of all the states we've been through) and continued back up the hill. The original plan had been to continue south to Somerset for the night, but a stop at a visitor center informed us of a brand new bike path that would take us just as far east as we were planning to go south, so we made Amery our first home state stop.
I have always loved the landscape of rural Wisconsin. Its rolling green hills, bright red barns, and black and white spotted cows are just a few of the sights I looked forward to seeing upon our return. But that beauty comes with a price. The scenery is lush because of the humid climate and hills are hills no matter how pretty. Our first two full days in Wisconsin were difficult, and during our first morning I was reminded of some of our days in supposedly flat central and eastern Montana, where we would crest one hill only to see the next hill we had to climb.
The first day was made even longer by the fact that I made a slight map error, but I would like to point out that I have been in charge of the maps the entire trip and this was the first time I made any mistakes. We are using a state highway map now, and when laying a string along our route to figure out our next day's distance, I failed to notice that the scale had 20 miles on either side with a zero in the middle, meaning the line was 40 miles in length, not the 20 I thought. We began to doubt my calculation tat Eau Claire was less than 40 miles from Amery when we arrived in Menominee at mile 50 with quite some distance between us and Eau Claire on the map.
We decided to make Eau Claire our second stop in the state (it was actually nearly 80 miles from Amery). Exhausted and starving from the heat and hills, we intended to go out to eat and get ourselves a hotel since we knew there was no camping nearby. We ran into a bit of luck, though, and were offered a yard to camp in by Nate, a guy that worked at the cafe where we ate whose roommate had just left on a solo tour to San Diego a few days earlier.
After a wonderful breakfast the next morning at the Harmony Corner Cafe (highly recommended if you're ever in the area - the entire staff came to talk to us about our trip and we got free cookies!), we hopped on our bikes and headed off into the oppressive humidity. We didn't have as many hills, but the thickness of the air made us rather miserable. We made the day a shorter one and camped at a county park where we were able to swim and escape the heat. It stormed heavily that night, which took away a lot of the humidity but left Claire's feet in a puddle.
The next day went much more smoothly and the 70 mile ride to Steven's Point seemed like a breeze compared to the last few. We saw a Miller guy unloading a truck in one of the small towns we passed through and got our picture with him : ) We also stopped at a cheese shop to pick up my favorite Swiss almond spread! We arrived in Steven's Point in the early evening and met Jim at a bike shop who offered us his couch to sleep on, which we gladly accepted. The next day we toured the Point Brewery before leaving for the cottage.
The ride from Steven's Point to Marl Lake is about 40 miles. Claire and I both hadn't really felt like we were in our home state yet, most likely because we had been traveling in unfamiliar territory. She probably felt more at home in Steven's Point, as it is where she'll be attending school in about a month. As the miles ticked away on my odometer yesterday, I knew we were getting closer to a place I consider home, but it wasn't until about a half mile after turning onto County C from County B that I finally began to recognize things. My lips began to involuntarily curl upwards and my feet started pedaling faster. I could smell a familiar sweetness in the thick air. Finally we bent around a curve and we could see the driveway up ahead. I was a little nervous about going down the steep hill, so I unclipped my feet and kept my hands on the brakes. As planned, Claire and I immediately stripped down to our bras and underwear and ran straight down the hill and off the pier into the water. I let out a big "woo hoo" and we were greeted by shouts from our excited neighbors, asking if it was us. They treated us to some delicious food and beer, after we were properly clothed, of course.
We took the day off, but unfortunately it rained all day. It's such a strange feeling to be home; I feel so far from where we've been, both in a physical and mental sense. Tomorrow we head to Madison, and then it's home to Milwaukee after that. Perhaps it was the persistant rain, or maybe it was Neil Young's mournful crooning on the stereo, but I couldn't help but feel sad as I realized how quickly our journey was concluding. I will have to do my best to enjoy the next few days of cycling, because it will all be over before I know it.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Minnesota, we barely knew thee
Hello from Dalbo, MN! We just arrived at the farm of Donn Olson, a man who keeps a bunkhouse exclusively for cyclists. It's pretty sweet. Beds, a hot shower, and pizzas are just a few of the amenities it boasts! We plan on crossing the mighty St. Croix River tomorrow and making it to Wisconsin. It seems like we were barely in Minnesota. We spent a total of four nights in this state (including tonight and barring any unforeseen circumstances tomorrow), the same amount we spent in Idaho, and more than we spent in Oregon, but that doesn't really count since we hopped back and forth between it and Washington.
Claire and I both experienced our second falls today. Mine was rather lame as Claire knocked my bike over on top of me as I was bending down. Hah. Claire nearly fell off the picnic table bench at lunch today, but saved her real fall for the pavement. Her bike wandered onto the gravel shoulder and she fell over and got pretty scraped up (but she's ok). Two falls each after so many miles isn't bad, especially when I drunkenly told Claire this March that she better be prepared to fall ten times a day.
Here are some posts from the past few days. Sorry for being so long winded!
7/21Whenever traveling from state to state or country to country, I always feel like some kind of transformation happens when I cross that imaginary border line. When driving from Wisconsin to Illinois I always seem to notice that the cars surrounding me have somehow shed their Wisconsin plates and replaced them with those that bear "The Land of Lincoln". And while flying from the US to Guatemala, my fellow passengers who seemed to speak my native tongue so eloquently back at JFK are now completely fluent in Spanish as the plane taxis to the terminal in Guatemala City. We place so much weight on these borders that are oftentimes nothing more than a line drawn on a map that my mind invents a distinction between one area and another; the differences in dress, traditions, and landscape become more concrete when represented by liscense plates and accents. I have only been to Minnesota a handful of times, and those trips have mainly been in the eastern region of the state, so in my mind I pictured Minnesota to be rather Wisconsin-like: rolling green hills with clear blue rivers and lakes carved in the spaces between. Our border crossing was unremarkable, without even a sign welcoming us to our sixth state. Perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise then that we were not automatically transported to the Minnesota of my mind. The liscense plates changed but the landscape remained largely North Dakotan.
About 30 miles later, however, things began to change. Wheat fields were replaced by corn. The trees became more numerous. Lakes began popping up
on either side of the road. And we had our first series of hills for the first time in what seems like days. Tonight we are camping on the shore of a small river in Pelican Rapids, feeling closer to home than ever.
We spent the majority of the day off ACA routes, which made the fact that we met up with other cyclists today pretty interesting. Not far out of Fargo we caught up with a couple heading the same way as us, but the started in WA and are headed to their home in CT. They were on the opposite side of the road speaking to a family with three small boys who were also on their way home. The family has been biking for over a year, having traveled down the west coast to Baja and back up along the Mississippi. They are from Calgary and are making their way back.
I feel like our time in Fargo, though short, helped to revitalize my biking spirit. I haven't been tiring of it, but I feel far more relaxed and willing to take things at an easier pace. I have a growing fondess for the small cities/large towns we've visited on this trip, and I think that admiration has something to do with the answer our host, Joe, gave when I asked him what his favorite thing about Fargo was. To paraphrase, and sorry if I'm getting this wrong but this is what I took from it, Fargo is large enough that there are people there who are interested in doing things, changing things, being involved in the community. But it's also small enough that you, as an individual, have the power to really be heard if you want to, so you can make the changes you want to see in the community. After spending about seven months of last year in Martinsville, IN, I didn't think I could ever live anywhere smaller than Madison. But visiting places like Missoula and Fargo have really changed my perspective and have given me more to think about as I stare ahead at the giant question mark that seems to constantly be in my future.
7/23 We spent all of today and a portion of yesterday on a Rails to Trails path. In total the path we will take is about 100 miles of flat pavement, far from the normal traffic of the highways we often ride along. As nice as the path has been, no hills means we are constantly pedaling, and today felt long enough by the time we hit 65 miles. We stopped about ten miles short of our intended destination, but after two previous days with late starts and finishes, we were excited to get into camp a little early.
Last night Claire and I pulled out our maps to check out our route for the next few days and were surprised to find that we will be out of Minnesota in just two more days. Only a week ago my thoughts had begun to turn towards home and the excitement of our return, but last night as I realized how quickly it was approaching, my stomach began to tighten into a knot and I could feel a lump rising in my throat. Even though I've visualized different post-homecoming activities over the past month, the thought of not biking every day is somewhat daunting. I love city life and the interactions it affords me, but it also brings about responsibilities I don't have to deal with out here. I've grown used to the independence that comes from being on the road, drifting from one town to the next as we please. It's difficult to imagine re-fitting my life into the boxes society makes for us: settling down into another job, returning phone calls and emails, and taking daily showers. I felt similarly as the end of my Alaska adventure neared last year, and it's amazing and perhaps a little sad how quickly I was able to readjust to the life I left behind. I have no doubt I will be able to do the same this time around, but for now I fear the known.
Claire and I both experienced our second falls today. Mine was rather lame as Claire knocked my bike over on top of me as I was bending down. Hah. Claire nearly fell off the picnic table bench at lunch today, but saved her real fall for the pavement. Her bike wandered onto the gravel shoulder and she fell over and got pretty scraped up (but she's ok). Two falls each after so many miles isn't bad, especially when I drunkenly told Claire this March that she better be prepared to fall ten times a day.
Here are some posts from the past few days. Sorry for being so long winded!
7/21Whenever traveling from state to state or country to country, I always feel like some kind of transformation happens when I cross that imaginary border line. When driving from Wisconsin to Illinois I always seem to notice that the cars surrounding me have somehow shed their Wisconsin plates and replaced them with those that bear "The Land of Lincoln". And while flying from the US to Guatemala, my fellow passengers who seemed to speak my native tongue so eloquently back at JFK are now completely fluent in Spanish as the plane taxis to the terminal in Guatemala City. We place so much weight on these borders that are oftentimes nothing more than a line drawn on a map that my mind invents a distinction between one area and another; the differences in dress, traditions, and landscape become more concrete when represented by liscense plates and accents. I have only been to Minnesota a handful of times, and those trips have mainly been in the eastern region of the state, so in my mind I pictured Minnesota to be rather Wisconsin-like: rolling green hills with clear blue rivers and lakes carved in the spaces between. Our border crossing was unremarkable, without even a sign welcoming us to our sixth state. Perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise then that we were not automatically transported to the Minnesota of my mind. The liscense plates changed but the landscape remained largely North Dakotan.
About 30 miles later, however, things began to change. Wheat fields were replaced by corn. The trees became more numerous. Lakes began popping up
on either side of the road. And we had our first series of hills for the first time in what seems like days. Tonight we are camping on the shore of a small river in Pelican Rapids, feeling closer to home than ever.
We spent the majority of the day off ACA routes, which made the fact that we met up with other cyclists today pretty interesting. Not far out of Fargo we caught up with a couple heading the same way as us, but the started in WA and are headed to their home in CT. They were on the opposite side of the road speaking to a family with three small boys who were also on their way home. The family has been biking for over a year, having traveled down the west coast to Baja and back up along the Mississippi. They are from Calgary and are making their way back.
I feel like our time in Fargo, though short, helped to revitalize my biking spirit. I haven't been tiring of it, but I feel far more relaxed and willing to take things at an easier pace. I have a growing fondess for the small cities/large towns we've visited on this trip, and I think that admiration has something to do with the answer our host, Joe, gave when I asked him what his favorite thing about Fargo was. To paraphrase, and sorry if I'm getting this wrong but this is what I took from it, Fargo is large enough that there are people there who are interested in doing things, changing things, being involved in the community. But it's also small enough that you, as an individual, have the power to really be heard if you want to, so you can make the changes you want to see in the community. After spending about seven months of last year in Martinsville, IN, I didn't think I could ever live anywhere smaller than Madison. But visiting places like Missoula and Fargo have really changed my perspective and have given me more to think about as I stare ahead at the giant question mark that seems to constantly be in my future.
7/23 We spent all of today and a portion of yesterday on a Rails to Trails path. In total the path we will take is about 100 miles of flat pavement, far from the normal traffic of the highways we often ride along. As nice as the path has been, no hills means we are constantly pedaling, and today felt long enough by the time we hit 65 miles. We stopped about ten miles short of our intended destination, but after two previous days with late starts and finishes, we were excited to get into camp a little early.
Last night Claire and I pulled out our maps to check out our route for the next few days and were surprised to find that we will be out of Minnesota in just two more days. Only a week ago my thoughts had begun to turn towards home and the excitement of our return, but last night as I realized how quickly it was approaching, my stomach began to tighten into a knot and I could feel a lump rising in my throat. Even though I've visualized different post-homecoming activities over the past month, the thought of not biking every day is somewhat daunting. I love city life and the interactions it affords me, but it also brings about responsibilities I don't have to deal with out here. I've grown used to the independence that comes from being on the road, drifting from one town to the next as we please. It's difficult to imagine re-fitting my life into the boxes society makes for us: settling down into another job, returning phone calls and emails, and taking daily showers. I felt similarly as the end of my Alaska adventure neared last year, and it's amazing and perhaps a little sad how quickly I was able to readjust to the life I left behind. I have no doubt I will be able to do the same this time around, but for now I fear the known.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Fargo
We spent two days hanging out with JP at an awesome hunting lodge in Minnewauken, ND. Minnewauken is on Devil's Lake which, unlike little Marl Lake in Wautoma, is growing larger and larger, flooding lands and threatening to take over roads and towns. The hunting lodge we stayed in was straight out of the 50s, complete with laundry, showers, our own rooms, a hot tub, and this sweet vibrating massage machine. I can't thank JP enough for all his generosity!
As usual, the day after a rest day was tough, and it actually seemed to drag out into two days for me this time. Also, after having a few high mileage days, doing our normal 60-70 miles doesn't seem like enough for some reason. We spent the past two nights in McHenry and Page and had planned on riding through Fargo to a state park a little past Moorehead, MN yesterday. We got to Fargo in the early afternoon and thought it looked cute and decided to check it out before heading on. We checked out a bike store and learned about a bike collective where we could get stickers (we are always in search of stickers for our bikes, and they have proven harder to find than we imagined) so we decided to make a stop there before figuring out where we'd spend the night. We ended up volunteering there for about two and a half hours, stripping down one bike and fixing up two others, and earned our stickers AND a place to stay. Joe and his wife Sara are wonderful amazing hosts and we can't thank them enough!
On our way into town yesterday we were passed by the van from WomenTours - the group who shared their dinner with us in Culbertson, MT. We had surpassed them on some of the days we took advantage of the tailwinds and haven't seen them since New Town, ND. They will be coming into Fargo, their final destination, today, and two of the women were checking out the route. It was great to see them, but they delivered some bad news. They have two groups of cyclists, the ones we met and another group that is traveling a day behind them. The second group lost one of their members as they headed into Minot, ND. A pick-up truck hit her from behind and she was killed. It was very sobering to hear, and the thought of her hasn't left me since.
As usual, the day after a rest day was tough, and it actually seemed to drag out into two days for me this time. Also, after having a few high mileage days, doing our normal 60-70 miles doesn't seem like enough for some reason. We spent the past two nights in McHenry and Page and had planned on riding through Fargo to a state park a little past Moorehead, MN yesterday. We got to Fargo in the early afternoon and thought it looked cute and decided to check it out before heading on. We checked out a bike store and learned about a bike collective where we could get stickers (we are always in search of stickers for our bikes, and they have proven harder to find than we imagined) so we decided to make a stop there before figuring out where we'd spend the night. We ended up volunteering there for about two and a half hours, stripping down one bike and fixing up two others, and earned our stickers AND a place to stay. Joe and his wife Sara are wonderful amazing hosts and we can't thank them enough!
On our way into town yesterday we were passed by the van from WomenTours - the group who shared their dinner with us in Culbertson, MT. We had surpassed them on some of the days we took advantage of the tailwinds and haven't seen them since New Town, ND. They will be coming into Fargo, their final destination, today, and two of the women were checking out the route. It was great to see them, but they delivered some bad news. They have two groups of cyclists, the ones we met and another group that is traveling a day behind them. The second group lost one of their members as they headed into Minot, ND. A pick-up truck hit her from behind and she was killed. It was very sobering to hear, and the thought of her hasn't left me since.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Reminders
The past few days the wind has been at our backs, and we've taken full advantage of it by logging over 90 miles the past two days and 80 today. As the miles add up and the distance between us and Milwaukee lessens with each passing day, I find myself focusing more on the destination and less on the journey. Traveling along heavily trafficked roads with uninteresting scenery has caused my mind to be littered with thoughts of our return: dropping my bike at the end of the driveway at the cottage and running down the stone steps and across the wood planks of the pier to plunge into the cool waters of Marl Lake, hopping on my Puegeot which, already lighter than my Trek and not burdened with panniers, will feel light as a feather, meeting up with friends and family to swap summer tales, and making an appointment to get my eyebrows waxed (they are currently huge fuzzy caterpillers).
Today our route took us on lesser traveled pavement, and with the winds a little calmer our speeds slowed. I forced my mind to slow down as well, and take it all in: the ever-present symphony of hissing insects at all sides, the changes in the color of crops as we pass from one field to the next, the subtle drop in temperature when passing by a lake or marshy area, and the thickness of the humid air as you breathe it in deeply. I know it's important to visualize the end in order to keep yourself motivated, but it's even more important to be present in the moment. The destination will always be there, but the journey will, one day, come to an end. We still have many more miles of discovery upon us, and I intend to be there in all ways for every single one.
We have just arrived in Minnewauken, ND and will soon meet up with my friend JP, provider of the ACA maps and a fellow NOLS student. I can't wait to catch up!
Today our route took us on lesser traveled pavement, and with the winds a little calmer our speeds slowed. I forced my mind to slow down as well, and take it all in: the ever-present symphony of hissing insects at all sides, the changes in the color of crops as we pass from one field to the next, the subtle drop in temperature when passing by a lake or marshy area, and the thickness of the humid air as you breathe it in deeply. I know it's important to visualize the end in order to keep yourself motivated, but it's even more important to be present in the moment. The destination will always be there, but the journey will, one day, come to an end. We still have many more miles of discovery upon us, and I intend to be there in all ways for every single one.
We have just arrived in Minnewauken, ND and will soon meet up with my friend JP, provider of the ACA maps and a fellow NOLS student. I can't wait to catch up!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Nearly a century, but worst day ever
Claire and I are now in Culbertson, MT, not too far from the Montana/North Dakota border! We will be in our fifth state tomorrow. We are enjoying the hospitality of a group of women on a supported tour with the organization Woman Tour. We got to take a shower and they are letting us sit in on their dinner! We are also going to make an appearance on one of their blogs, if you want to check it out: http://golindago.blogspot.com.
Here's a post about our longest and worst day yet, though it most definitely doesn't do it justice:
7/11 The route from Jordan to our next town, Fort Peck, was 96 miles with one rest stop for water at about the 37 mile mark. The route headed east until the rest stop where it turned north and ran along a wildlife refuge which had a few primitive (i.e. no water) campsites. We decided to try to make it the entire 96 miles. Waking up early and strapping extra water bottled to our bikes, we headed out for our longest day yet.
Though hilly, the eastward portion of our journey passed quickly and we ate lunch and filled up on water at the rest stop. As we left the rest stop, we passed a sign that gave the mileage to Fort Peck as 59. Without a doubt, those were the toughest 59 miles of my life.
It's hard to really summarize the day, and after Claire read what I wrote, she said it didn't capture the awfulness of the day, and I agree. The temperature was over 90, the winds were gusting from the north, making even the downhills difficult, and the hills never seemed to stop. At about 5:00 we still had 25 miles to go, and I kept noticing my speed at 6 MPH on my computer, making me think we would never make it. We were offered rides by two cars, and though both were quite tempting, we knew we wouldn't forgive ourselves if we had taken them up on the offers. We did experience extreme generosity from a man and his son who gave us a bottle of Powerade, then drove to town, bought a gallon jug of water and two bottles of Gatorade and brought them back to us. I was so grateful since I had already drank a large amount of my water and everything I had was hot.
The last 15 miles passed more quickly, as the wind seemed to have died down a bit and the road shifted slightly so it wasn't blowing straight at us. When there were about 12 miles left, Fort Peck Lake finally showed itself. According to my map, it had been just a few miles to our left the entire day, which seemed hard to believe since we had been riding through desert-like badlands ever since we turned north. It's appearance seemed to be timed just right, as we had finally left the barren land colored different shades of brown and were again amongst green grasslands.
At the end of the day my odometer read 99.16 miles, nearly a century and the farthest I have ever ridden in one day, and I'm not sure if you could have paid me to go the extra .82 mile to make the full 100.
We let ourselves sleep in this morning and ate all we could at the breakfast buffet before heading out towards Wolf Point, a 50 mile ride. We headed north for about 15 miles before turning east on highway 2. We had some hills early on, but thus far 2 has been, dare I say it?, FLAT!
Here's a post about our longest and worst day yet, though it most definitely doesn't do it justice:
7/11 The route from Jordan to our next town, Fort Peck, was 96 miles with one rest stop for water at about the 37 mile mark. The route headed east until the rest stop where it turned north and ran along a wildlife refuge which had a few primitive (i.e. no water) campsites. We decided to try to make it the entire 96 miles. Waking up early and strapping extra water bottled to our bikes, we headed out for our longest day yet.
Though hilly, the eastward portion of our journey passed quickly and we ate lunch and filled up on water at the rest stop. As we left the rest stop, we passed a sign that gave the mileage to Fort Peck as 59. Without a doubt, those were the toughest 59 miles of my life.
It's hard to really summarize the day, and after Claire read what I wrote, she said it didn't capture the awfulness of the day, and I agree. The temperature was over 90, the winds were gusting from the north, making even the downhills difficult, and the hills never seemed to stop. At about 5:00 we still had 25 miles to go, and I kept noticing my speed at 6 MPH on my computer, making me think we would never make it. We were offered rides by two cars, and though both were quite tempting, we knew we wouldn't forgive ourselves if we had taken them up on the offers. We did experience extreme generosity from a man and his son who gave us a bottle of Powerade, then drove to town, bought a gallon jug of water and two bottles of Gatorade and brought them back to us. I was so grateful since I had already drank a large amount of my water and everything I had was hot.
The last 15 miles passed more quickly, as the wind seemed to have died down a bit and the road shifted slightly so it wasn't blowing straight at us. When there were about 12 miles left, Fort Peck Lake finally showed itself. According to my map, it had been just a few miles to our left the entire day, which seemed hard to believe since we had been riding through desert-like badlands ever since we turned north. It's appearance seemed to be timed just right, as we had finally left the barren land colored different shades of brown and were again amongst green grasslands.
At the end of the day my odometer read 99.16 miles, nearly a century and the farthest I have ever ridden in one day, and I'm not sure if you could have paid me to go the extra .82 mile to make the full 100.
We let ourselves sleep in this morning and ate all we could at the breakfast buffet before heading out towards Wolf Point, a 50 mile ride. We headed north for about 15 miles before turning east on highway 2. We had some hills early on, but thus far 2 has been, dare I say it?, FLAT!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
One Thousand Miles and Still Going
7/9 Often the reaction people had when I told them about this trip was a somewhat snide, "you know you're going to have to cross the Rockies." I always wanted to respond with an equally snide, "yes, I do have some basic knowledge of American geography," but I'm far too polite for that. But for all those who thought we'd meet our deaths in the mountains, I have to say that the Rockies have nothing on the hills we've been in the past few days. We keep hearing from various people that once we get past such-and-such location, the land will be flat and we'll be missing the days we met hill after hill. Well, we have yet to reach that place and I am beginning to believe the word "flat" does not actually exist when it comes to land. Hills are a fact of life for a cyclist; there's nothing you can do but face them. But for someone who is not on a bike, hills seem to be just a dip on the horizon, a cause to depress the gas pedal just a tad more, not something that reduces your speed to less than half and brings beads of sweat dripping down your face. In addition to hills, we've been handed heat and slight headwinds. It's amazing to look out at the fields of grass surrounding you and not even see a hint of movement, yet feel like every ounce of momentum placed by your feet is being met by an invisible force pushing back at you.
These factors caused me to very nearly reach my breaking point as we peddaled from Geraldine to Lewistown. That morning I felt one of my front brake pads rubbing against my wheel, and despite my best efforts, I was unable to make a fix on the road. There was a bike shop in Lewistown, and thankfully Claire decided to call ahead to get the hours. The owner runs the shop as a hobby out of his garage and was planning on closing early that day. After Claire explained the situation, he agreed to stay open until we arrived. Now that we had a reason to reach town, I became easily discouraged at seeing uphill after uphill. At one point I nearly cried, and then kind of laughed at myself, because I knew crying wasn't going to change anything - it wasn't going to make the hills disappear, it wasn't going to make Lewistown any closer, and it wasn't going to fix my brake pad. So I sucked it up and kept going. And we got there when we said we would, and I got my bike fixed, and everything was ok again.
Our surroundings have changed again. When we left Great Falls we still had some mountains. We also experienced the benefits of Big Sky Country, as we were able to see the several thunderstorms brewing on the horizon. We only had about 15 minutes of rain, and none of the hail that seems to be a part of a lot of storms here. By yesterday the mountains had disappeared, and the road became like a bridge in a sea of green grasses, with distant rocky-topped buttes looking like permanently cresting waves.
Despite some of the hardships, we've been logging quite a few miles. We passed the 1000 mile mark on the way to Lewistown. Using the mileage from our maps, our journey is about 2400 miles, but this doesn't account for any changes we've made or extra miles added by going off route for camping or groceries. We should be in North Dakota early next week, and there we switch from the Lewis and Clark trail to the Northern Tier, which does not include an elevation profile. We had hoped to increase our mileage as we headed into flatter territory, but since I no longer believe in the word "flat," we will continue to take it day by day and keep our return to Milwaukee open-ended.
These factors caused me to very nearly reach my breaking point as we peddaled from Geraldine to Lewistown. That morning I felt one of my front brake pads rubbing against my wheel, and despite my best efforts, I was unable to make a fix on the road. There was a bike shop in Lewistown, and thankfully Claire decided to call ahead to get the hours. The owner runs the shop as a hobby out of his garage and was planning on closing early that day. After Claire explained the situation, he agreed to stay open until we arrived. Now that we had a reason to reach town, I became easily discouraged at seeing uphill after uphill. At one point I nearly cried, and then kind of laughed at myself, because I knew crying wasn't going to change anything - it wasn't going to make the hills disappear, it wasn't going to make Lewistown any closer, and it wasn't going to fix my brake pad. So I sucked it up and kept going. And we got there when we said we would, and I got my bike fixed, and everything was ok again.
Our surroundings have changed again. When we left Great Falls we still had some mountains. We also experienced the benefits of Big Sky Country, as we were able to see the several thunderstorms brewing on the horizon. We only had about 15 minutes of rain, and none of the hail that seems to be a part of a lot of storms here. By yesterday the mountains had disappeared, and the road became like a bridge in a sea of green grasses, with distant rocky-topped buttes looking like permanently cresting waves.
Despite some of the hardships, we've been logging quite a few miles. We passed the 1000 mile mark on the way to Lewistown. Using the mileage from our maps, our journey is about 2400 miles, but this doesn't account for any changes we've made or extra miles added by going off route for camping or groceries. We should be in North Dakota early next week, and there we switch from the Lewis and Clark trail to the Northern Tier, which does not include an elevation profile. We had hoped to increase our mileage as we headed into flatter territory, but since I no longer believe in the word "flat," we will continue to take it day by day and keep our return to Milwaukee open-ended.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Greetings from Great Falls
It seems as though we had gotten into a good groove prior to reaching Missoula: waking early, quickly making breakfast and breaking camp, and logging a good amount of miles before noon. With a couple of days of immobility, Claire and I both feel like we're out of it. We have been sleeping in and been slow at getting started in the mornings. This morning was no exception. Luckily we had a short, quick ride to today's destination of Great Falls. The road was flat and we averaged about 18 MPH. Our plan was to stay at a hostel that our maps listed, but unfortunately we rode up to the house to find it was for sale. We decided to stay at a hotel and we feel like we're living in the lap of luxary with a shower, cable tv, and a fake fireplace.
While fixing Claire's flat in Lincoln, a man there informed us that there was a bus that would take us to Great Falls for $5. "It would be faster and easier," he said. "Yeah, but that's not the point," I told him. We are often asked our motivation for this journey, and it's something we kind of struggle to answer. Our usual response is that a few years ago we both decided that we wanted to bike across the country (we have obviously shortened that goal since) and decided to do it at this time because Claire would be graduating from high school. When thinking about it recently, I remembered a poster in a high school English classroom that showed a picture of a man on a motorcycle with the words, "It's the journey not the destination that counts." Yes, it would be infinitely easier to hop on a bus and rid ourselves of the challenge of physically propelling our bodies to our next destination, but that's not what we set out to do. Although we face difficulties like flat tires, steep hill climbs, and the occasional angry motorist, it's these hardships, along with the joyous downhills, friendly locals, and beautiful scenery that make the experience memorable and completely worth it.
While fixing Claire's flat in Lincoln, a man there informed us that there was a bus that would take us to Great Falls for $5. "It would be faster and easier," he said. "Yeah, but that's not the point," I told him. We are often asked our motivation for this journey, and it's something we kind of struggle to answer. Our usual response is that a few years ago we both decided that we wanted to bike across the country (we have obviously shortened that goal since) and decided to do it at this time because Claire would be graduating from high school. When thinking about it recently, I remembered a poster in a high school English classroom that showed a picture of a man on a motorcycle with the words, "It's the journey not the destination that counts." Yes, it would be infinitely easier to hop on a bus and rid ourselves of the challenge of physically propelling our bodies to our next destination, but that's not what we set out to do. Although we face difficulties like flat tires, steep hill climbs, and the occasional angry motorist, it's these hardships, along with the joyous downhills, friendly locals, and beautiful scenery that make the experience memorable and completely worth it.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Independence Day
We finally made it out of Lincoln, MT. I think the fact that we had just spent a day off in Missoula made it seem as though we were wasting time and it felt really good to get back on the road. We knew we had Roger's Pass at an elevation of 5610 feet to contend with. Roger's Pass is not only the location of the Continental Divide, but also where the lowest record temperature in the US at 70 below. Though the winds were blowing hard making it chilly, it was nowhere near that cold for our passage. The climb actually wasn't that bad. We stopped at the top for some lunch and spoke to an elderly couple taking a hike. The woman told us she couldn't think of a more independent way for us to celebrate Independence Day.
Claire had previously let me in on the secret that she sings out loud when going downhill, so I decided to try it out. It was pretty fun, but I did feel a bit strange as cars passed me going the opposite direction, probably wondering what I was mouthing. For those of you wondering, it was Don't Stop Believin and Joey : )
With the crossing of the Divide, we left behind the fir trees and headed into open grasslands. Initially we still had mountains, but towards the end of the day they had all but been replaced by the flat-topped buttes that will be the prominent land formation for the coming weeks. As we traveled up and down hills, the rocky topped mountains became a distant vision, if not a distant memory.
Our maps had us taking a different road to the town of Augusta, where we had originally planned on spending the night. A glance at a road map, however, showed that we could continue on the highway we were already riding on to cut out some miles. We quickly realized why they re-routed you through Augusta. What we gained in distance we lost in inclines. The 18 miles from the turnoff to the town of Simms was riddled with hills, several steeper than Roger's. We were rewarded with many downhills, though, and I reached my all time top speed of 40 MPH. I think I also saw my first rattlesnake by the side of the road (alive). I almost stopped to take a picture when I realized that probably wouldn't be the smartest idea.
Claire had previously let me in on the secret that she sings out loud when going downhill, so I decided to try it out. It was pretty fun, but I did feel a bit strange as cars passed me going the opposite direction, probably wondering what I was mouthing. For those of you wondering, it was Don't Stop Believin and Joey : )
With the crossing of the Divide, we left behind the fir trees and headed into open grasslands. Initially we still had mountains, but towards the end of the day they had all but been replaced by the flat-topped buttes that will be the prominent land formation for the coming weeks. As we traveled up and down hills, the rocky topped mountains became a distant vision, if not a distant memory.
Our maps had us taking a different road to the town of Augusta, where we had originally planned on spending the night. A glance at a road map, however, showed that we could continue on the highway we were already riding on to cut out some miles. We quickly realized why they re-routed you through Augusta. What we gained in distance we lost in inclines. The 18 miles from the turnoff to the town of Simms was riddled with hills, several steeper than Roger's. We were rewarded with many downhills, though, and I reached my all time top speed of 40 MPH. I think I also saw my first rattlesnake by the side of the road (alive). I almost stopped to take a picture when I realized that probably wouldn't be the smartest idea.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
First flat, first rodeo.
Claire and I are currently in Lincoln, MT, home of the Unabomber. We had originally planned on heading over Roger's pass today and spending the night in Augusta, but some unforeseen flat tire issues delayed our start, and we were convinced by sone locals that the rodeo was not to be missed, so we stuck around. The flat is (hopefully) fixed, and the rodeo was awesome. The ring of fire, where a bunch of guys stand in a circle while a bull charges them, was my favorite. Other highlights included the chicken scramble and the little kids riding bulls. We hope August has some nice fireworks for the 4th tomorrow. Here's what I wrote for yesterday:
7/2 We awoke to drizzle and a cloud cover in Missoula this morning, and part of me wanted to call off our return to the road for one more day. I found Missoula to be a great town; people were very friendly and courteous towards bikers. It seemed like a large amount of people bike there, about half on mountain bikes and the other half on cruisers. I only saw a handful of fixed gears, kind of a relief after visiting the hipster mecca that is Portland. We had the chance to ride around town without any gear on our bikes, and I must confess it was a little difficult at first. I've grown accustomed to the extra weight and felt unstable as I negotiated the unfamiliar streets.
But even though I loved Missoula, I knew it was time to get started again. It may have been the fact that I only had one outfit to wear, or the fact that Claire is underage and our evening entertainment options were limited, or perhaps even that I was embarrassed to be seen in public with my hairy legs and pits, multiple tan lines, and permanent grease stains on my body, but my feet were getting that itchy feeling again.
With our bikes once again weighted down with the lives we are leading right now, we made our way east out of town. I think Claire and I both agree that, in theory, rest days sound great, but in reality it makes the next day all the more difficult. The entire day I felt as though we were just trudging through, perhaps subconsciously trying to make up for the miles lost on our day off. Despite this feeling, the ride wasn't too bad. We had a fair share of inclines, but the majority of the day was flat, allowing us to make today our longest mileage-wise at just over 80.
Sometime during our stay at Lolo Hot Springs I snapped the wire on my bike computer. Despite my best efforts, minimal electrical knowledge, and duct tape, I was unable to make a suitable fix. I picked up a new one in Missoula, which, to put it lightly, was a bitch to put on. You have to attach a sensor to the fork, not a trying task in itself, but when you add a front rack and fender, space up there is limited. I had a frustrating time trying to get the fender back on so it wouldn't rub my wheel, and while I was initially successful, a bump in the road today threw it off again. After riding a little while, I determined that either the state of Montana needs some help in correctly placing its mile markers or that my new computer was a little over-zealous in figuring out our distance traveled. I was fairly certain it was the latter until we arrived at our destination with the correct number on the odometer.
In addition to mismarking miles, Montanans are crazy drivers. The highway we took today was well traveled, as people headed out to their holiday weekend destinations. Luckily we had a large shoulder for all but the last 20 miles or so, but when it was gone we experienced several fast moving cars that didn't care to make room for us.
We experienced our first flat today on Claire's rear tire. We patched it (using the patch kit my good friend Holly gave me for my birthday last year) without even taking the wheel off the bike. I don't think we did the best job, though, and it seems to be slowly leaking air. Tomorrow we will replace the tube and see if we can do a better job on the patch later.
The scenery today was beautiful- gently sloping mountains that looked as though they had been draped in green velvet and sprinkled with fir trees, bright blue rivers and streams, and snow-capped peaks in the distance. I'm doing my best to relish it all now, because I know in a few short days we'll be seeing nothing but the flat lands of the great plains.
7/2 We awoke to drizzle and a cloud cover in Missoula this morning, and part of me wanted to call off our return to the road for one more day. I found Missoula to be a great town; people were very friendly and courteous towards bikers. It seemed like a large amount of people bike there, about half on mountain bikes and the other half on cruisers. I only saw a handful of fixed gears, kind of a relief after visiting the hipster mecca that is Portland. We had the chance to ride around town without any gear on our bikes, and I must confess it was a little difficult at first. I've grown accustomed to the extra weight and felt unstable as I negotiated the unfamiliar streets.
But even though I loved Missoula, I knew it was time to get started again. It may have been the fact that I only had one outfit to wear, or the fact that Claire is underage and our evening entertainment options were limited, or perhaps even that I was embarrassed to be seen in public with my hairy legs and pits, multiple tan lines, and permanent grease stains on my body, but my feet were getting that itchy feeling again.
With our bikes once again weighted down with the lives we are leading right now, we made our way east out of town. I think Claire and I both agree that, in theory, rest days sound great, but in reality it makes the next day all the more difficult. The entire day I felt as though we were just trudging through, perhaps subconsciously trying to make up for the miles lost on our day off. Despite this feeling, the ride wasn't too bad. We had a fair share of inclines, but the majority of the day was flat, allowing us to make today our longest mileage-wise at just over 80.
Sometime during our stay at Lolo Hot Springs I snapped the wire on my bike computer. Despite my best efforts, minimal electrical knowledge, and duct tape, I was unable to make a suitable fix. I picked up a new one in Missoula, which, to put it lightly, was a bitch to put on. You have to attach a sensor to the fork, not a trying task in itself, but when you add a front rack and fender, space up there is limited. I had a frustrating time trying to get the fender back on so it wouldn't rub my wheel, and while I was initially successful, a bump in the road today threw it off again. After riding a little while, I determined that either the state of Montana needs some help in correctly placing its mile markers or that my new computer was a little over-zealous in figuring out our distance traveled. I was fairly certain it was the latter until we arrived at our destination with the correct number on the odometer.
In addition to mismarking miles, Montanans are crazy drivers. The highway we took today was well traveled, as people headed out to their holiday weekend destinations. Luckily we had a large shoulder for all but the last 20 miles or so, but when it was gone we experienced several fast moving cars that didn't care to make room for us.
We experienced our first flat today on Claire's rear tire. We patched it (using the patch kit my good friend Holly gave me for my birthday last year) without even taking the wheel off the bike. I don't think we did the best job, though, and it seems to be slowly leaking air. Tomorrow we will replace the tube and see if we can do a better job on the patch later.
The scenery today was beautiful- gently sloping mountains that looked as though they had been draped in green velvet and sprinkled with fir trees, bright blue rivers and streams, and snow-capped peaks in the distance. I'm doing my best to relish it all now, because I know in a few short days we'll be seeing nothing but the flat lands of the great plains.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Photos!
I uploaded a sampling of photos to Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2737645&id=8613078&ref=mf
Greetings from Missoula!
Due to my recent purchase of an iPod touch, I will now be able to update my blog more frequently. I can even type up notes when I don't have wifi and then post them when I do. Technology is amazing. I do not, however, understand why Apple would sell you a product that needs electricity to charge, yet not give you the means by which to charge it. The only way I can charge this is by plugging it into a computer, which really aren't all that available at campgrounds. We are currently in Missoula staying with friends of Claire's friend, and my mom sent me my old iPod charger, which is apparently not compatible with my fancy new one (thanks though mom! The cookies are delicious!), but because it's Apple and the thing looks freaking sweet, they can get away with it.
We arrived in Missoula yesterday afternoon and headed straight for the Adventure Cycling Association office. ACA is the organization that publishes the maps we are using (provided to me by an awesome friend from my NOLS trip, JP) and we were tipped off that we would get free ice cream if we stopped by, which we did, along with soda. They took our picture and put it up on the wall, so if you're in Missoula anytime soon, you should check it out! We also saw the pictures of most of the other cyclists we've seen, who all appear to be about one day ahead of us. We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around town and then we ate a lot of pizza. I am kind of in love with this town and am excited to be spending a few days here. Plus it's nice to have cell phone service again.
It's kind of amazing to think that we are already in our fourth of seven states, but sobering to look at a map and realize that this state is larger than all the area we've covered so far.
That's it for now. Below are two entries from previous days!
6/28 It's 11:30 and I am lying awake in our tent. I can't decide if I have fallen asleep yet or not. Lightning intermittently makes the tent as bright as a florescent-lit showroom and thunder rolls continuously. Our first rain since the first night on the road. I actually love being in a tent during a rainstorm- something about being right below the constant pitter pattering of the drops, yet being able to stay dry. It's just rain in the morning that I am not too excited about. I may have learned all about setting up a tarp over the kitchen and storm-proofing everything last summer in Alaska, but those lessons tend to slip your mind when you bike into camp and there isn't a cloud in the sky. I had to run out when I first heard raindrops to put away kitchen stuff (and a lot of Claire's clothes).
Claire and I are currently about 20 miles from the Idaho - Montana border. We are camped at a US Forest Service campground in the Clearwater National Forest, alongside the beautiful Clearwater River. All that is standing between us and our fourth state is the 5325 foot Lolo Pass, our highest elevation thus far (but not the highest we will encounter).
We entered Idaho two days ago and were greeted with arguably one of our most difficult days of the trip. The new state introduced us to altitude we hadn't yet experienced and my legs felt incredibly jelly-like. We slowly made our way up and down the rolling farmlands (though I must confess it mostly felt like we were going up). We stopped in the tiny town of Culdesac for a rest and were asked several times if we were headed up or down. Having felt like I had already either been going up all day or that my bike was broken (it wasn't) I was disheartened to find that our final destination for the day was atop a 13 mile hill, that at least at some point included a 7% grade. It took us about three hours to climb it with my speed maxing out at about 6 mph. People who know me well know that I am not easily frustrated, but the hill caused me to reach my breaking point. I began thinking crazy thoughts, like, "I want to flag down a car and have someone drive me the rest of the way." : ) But we did it, and were rewarded with a fairly easy day the next day.
(Side note to all my BW friends- I just heard a Bard Owl!)
At some point in that first day in Idaho we crossed into a new climate zone. Gone are the dry grasses and tree-less fields of the high desert. We gladly welcomed the sight of tall pines that provide the occasional respite from these cloudless summer days. Claire and I are both already sporting great biker tans, complete with shorts, jersey, glove, and sock lines. Also, because of our positon on the road, our right sides are darker than our lefts.
It sounds as though the storm has subsided. I suppose I should try once again to get some sleep so I will be ready for the steep climb tomorrow.
6/29 We tackled Lolo today. Well, Claire tackled, I pedaled at a slow but steady 4 MPH. My bike has more gears than hers, which means it's easier for me to pedal on an incline, but also a lot slower. That is really my excuse for just being a slower biker. After a short stop when the incline first got really steep, I rallied, slipped my chain into its oft-neglected lowest gear, and began my ascent. As cars sped past me, taking probably only a few minutes to complete what would take me over an hour, I thought that I should probably be pondering something profound, perhaps something about the modern day speed of life and how everyone should just slow down and take it all in, but in reality the only thoughts coming to mind were expletives and, "I'm pretty sure that little yellow butterfly is going faster than me." Of course I can't really complain. No one forced me to do this, and in some strange masochistic way, I like the pain. I knew that when I reached the top, sweat-drenched and panting, I'd feel good, and that I'd feel even better as we cruised down the other side. And I did. And I'm exhusted.
We made today a short one and are camped only seven miles from the pass. We are actually in the midst of another thunderstorm, this one with hail. Tomorrow we ride about 40 miles to Missoula where we plan on taking a few days to relax.
We arrived in Missoula yesterday afternoon and headed straight for the Adventure Cycling Association office. ACA is the organization that publishes the maps we are using (provided to me by an awesome friend from my NOLS trip, JP) and we were tipped off that we would get free ice cream if we stopped by, which we did, along with soda. They took our picture and put it up on the wall, so if you're in Missoula anytime soon, you should check it out! We also saw the pictures of most of the other cyclists we've seen, who all appear to be about one day ahead of us. We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around town and then we ate a lot of pizza. I am kind of in love with this town and am excited to be spending a few days here. Plus it's nice to have cell phone service again.
It's kind of amazing to think that we are already in our fourth of seven states, but sobering to look at a map and realize that this state is larger than all the area we've covered so far.
That's it for now. Below are two entries from previous days!
6/28 It's 11:30 and I am lying awake in our tent. I can't decide if I have fallen asleep yet or not. Lightning intermittently makes the tent as bright as a florescent-lit showroom and thunder rolls continuously. Our first rain since the first night on the road. I actually love being in a tent during a rainstorm- something about being right below the constant pitter pattering of the drops, yet being able to stay dry. It's just rain in the morning that I am not too excited about. I may have learned all about setting up a tarp over the kitchen and storm-proofing everything last summer in Alaska, but those lessons tend to slip your mind when you bike into camp and there isn't a cloud in the sky. I had to run out when I first heard raindrops to put away kitchen stuff (and a lot of Claire's clothes).
Claire and I are currently about 20 miles from the Idaho - Montana border. We are camped at a US Forest Service campground in the Clearwater National Forest, alongside the beautiful Clearwater River. All that is standing between us and our fourth state is the 5325 foot Lolo Pass, our highest elevation thus far (but not the highest we will encounter).
We entered Idaho two days ago and were greeted with arguably one of our most difficult days of the trip. The new state introduced us to altitude we hadn't yet experienced and my legs felt incredibly jelly-like. We slowly made our way up and down the rolling farmlands (though I must confess it mostly felt like we were going up). We stopped in the tiny town of Culdesac for a rest and were asked several times if we were headed up or down. Having felt like I had already either been going up all day or that my bike was broken (it wasn't) I was disheartened to find that our final destination for the day was atop a 13 mile hill, that at least at some point included a 7% grade. It took us about three hours to climb it with my speed maxing out at about 6 mph. People who know me well know that I am not easily frustrated, but the hill caused me to reach my breaking point. I began thinking crazy thoughts, like, "I want to flag down a car and have someone drive me the rest of the way." : ) But we did it, and were rewarded with a fairly easy day the next day.
(Side note to all my BW friends- I just heard a Bard Owl!)
At some point in that first day in Idaho we crossed into a new climate zone. Gone are the dry grasses and tree-less fields of the high desert. We gladly welcomed the sight of tall pines that provide the occasional respite from these cloudless summer days. Claire and I are both already sporting great biker tans, complete with shorts, jersey, glove, and sock lines. Also, because of our positon on the road, our right sides are darker than our lefts.
It sounds as though the storm has subsided. I suppose I should try once again to get some sleep so I will be ready for the steep climb tomorrow.
6/29 We tackled Lolo today. Well, Claire tackled, I pedaled at a slow but steady 4 MPH. My bike has more gears than hers, which means it's easier for me to pedal on an incline, but also a lot slower. That is really my excuse for just being a slower biker. After a short stop when the incline first got really steep, I rallied, slipped my chain into its oft-neglected lowest gear, and began my ascent. As cars sped past me, taking probably only a few minutes to complete what would take me over an hour, I thought that I should probably be pondering something profound, perhaps something about the modern day speed of life and how everyone should just slow down and take it all in, but in reality the only thoughts coming to mind were expletives and, "I'm pretty sure that little yellow butterfly is going faster than me." Of course I can't really complain. No one forced me to do this, and in some strange masochistic way, I like the pain. I knew that when I reached the top, sweat-drenched and panting, I'd feel good, and that I'd feel even better as we cruised down the other side. And I did. And I'm exhusted.
We made today a short one and are camped only seven miles from the pass. We are actually in the midst of another thunderstorm, this one with hail. Tomorrow we ride about 40 miles to Missoula where we plan on taking a few days to relax.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
It's all uphill from here
Short post: spent a lovely day off with a generous family in Clarkston, WA. Headed for the hills of Idaho. Had a 13 mile 7 percent grade climb. Exhausted. Need more cheese.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Eight days, 350 miles later
I am currently sitting at a computer at the Clarkston Public Library, with only 21 minutes to write this post, which is quickly ticking away as I complete other tasks online. Claire and I have been on the road for eight days, gone from Milwaukee for twelve. We have cycled all the way to the Washington state line and will be in Idaho this afternoon. I'll do my best to summarize the past week in a short paragraph.
We departed from Portland last Friday after being joined by our aunt Sara and uncle Gene who live in Eugene. They are doing their own bicycling trip that will take them around the state of Oregon. We got a late start and headed out to Ainsworth State Park, just a 36 mile ride from Portland. Along the way we stopped at several beautiful scenic overlooks and waterfalls. Our second day took us through Hood River, a small town that wind- and kitesurfers flock to to take advantage of the gusty winds that whip around the Columbia River Gorge. We ended up "dry camping," aka camping not at a campground, outside the town of Mosier, OR. We awoke the next morning to strong winds that were luckily headed in the same direction as us, making our climbs faster for the most part, but making the switchbacks and descents a little hairy at times. We passed through The Dalles and crossed over the river into Washington in order to avoid riding on the interstate, something we had to do for a few miles the previous days. The wind made the river crossing a little scary, and once we passed over the river we still had about three miles to head north with the wind coming from the west. I experienced my first (and thus far only) fall that day. The wind was pushing me so much sideways that I decided to steady myself before it caused me to fall over. I unclipped from my pedals and got my feet on the ground, but not soon enough, as the wind pushed my bike over on top of me. I got a little scraped up, but it wasn't too bad. The wind helped us as we traveled up and down the rolling hills of southern Washington, bringing us to Maryhill State Park where we stayed for the evening and shared a meal with a fellow cyclist headed to St. Louis.
Sara and Gene left us the next day, as they were heading south and Claire and I were continuing our journey west. I was a little nervous to be out on our own, but once we got started I felt more confident. I finally figured out how to use my maps (I had previously been using a Gorge-specific biking map, and was mistaking some numbers on my Adventure Cycling maps for miles when they really weren't) and we made our way westward, stopping in West Roosevelet where we met up with two other cyclists going all the way to New Hampshire. They joined us for the rest of the day and we ended in Crow Butte Park. On day five the heat really got to us, and we only did about 40 miles, crossing back over into Oregon and staying outside of McNary. On day six we re-entered Washington and left the Columbia River and its beautiful scenery. We made it through Walla Walla, a cute little town, and headed through some hellish hills to make it to our campsite outside Waitsburg.
Unfortunately my time is about to run out, so the mundane details of yesterday will have to be excluded. I hope to update soon!
We departed from Portland last Friday after being joined by our aunt Sara and uncle Gene who live in Eugene. They are doing their own bicycling trip that will take them around the state of Oregon. We got a late start and headed out to Ainsworth State Park, just a 36 mile ride from Portland. Along the way we stopped at several beautiful scenic overlooks and waterfalls. Our second day took us through Hood River, a small town that wind- and kitesurfers flock to to take advantage of the gusty winds that whip around the Columbia River Gorge. We ended up "dry camping," aka camping not at a campground, outside the town of Mosier, OR. We awoke the next morning to strong winds that were luckily headed in the same direction as us, making our climbs faster for the most part, but making the switchbacks and descents a little hairy at times. We passed through The Dalles and crossed over the river into Washington in order to avoid riding on the interstate, something we had to do for a few miles the previous days. The wind made the river crossing a little scary, and once we passed over the river we still had about three miles to head north with the wind coming from the west. I experienced my first (and thus far only) fall that day. The wind was pushing me so much sideways that I decided to steady myself before it caused me to fall over. I unclipped from my pedals and got my feet on the ground, but not soon enough, as the wind pushed my bike over on top of me. I got a little scraped up, but it wasn't too bad. The wind helped us as we traveled up and down the rolling hills of southern Washington, bringing us to Maryhill State Park where we stayed for the evening and shared a meal with a fellow cyclist headed to St. Louis.
Sara and Gene left us the next day, as they were heading south and Claire and I were continuing our journey west. I was a little nervous to be out on our own, but once we got started I felt more confident. I finally figured out how to use my maps (I had previously been using a Gorge-specific biking map, and was mistaking some numbers on my Adventure Cycling maps for miles when they really weren't) and we made our way westward, stopping in West Roosevelet where we met up with two other cyclists going all the way to New Hampshire. They joined us for the rest of the day and we ended in Crow Butte Park. On day five the heat really got to us, and we only did about 40 miles, crossing back over into Oregon and staying outside of McNary. On day six we re-entered Washington and left the Columbia River and its beautiful scenery. We made it through Walla Walla, a cute little town, and headed through some hellish hills to make it to our campsite outside Waitsburg.
Unfortunately my time is about to run out, so the mundane details of yesterday will have to be excluded. I hope to update soon!
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