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.
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