Amsterdam on accident

I didn't know what to expect when we arrived in Norway. I'd never really heard much about the place. I just assumed it was cold. Thankfully, compared to Iceland, it turned out to be an extremely pleasant temperature for this time of year. This was important because we arrived to Oslo airport late and decided to try our hand at stealth camping just outside the terminal. It wasn't hard to find a spot and it ended up being warmer than any of our nights in Iceland.

But, really, what is there to say about Norway? Or Sweden? Or Denmark for that matter? They were all quite nice, though expensive, and each of the countries had an oddly intense obsession with hot dogs that I found a little bit concerning. They were very clean and the architecture was fantastic but this is the part where I don't need to give a play by play of what I did every day because much of it was similar. We hitched our way down, starting in Oslo, and it wasn't awful. It wasn't the best hitching I've ever had either though. It just seems like the northern European countries are a little more reserved and a little more afraid of strangers standing on the side of the road. There were a couple memorable hitches that we got heading south though. One was from a young kid and the other a man from just outside of Amsterdam. We'll start with the kid.

It was early in the morning and we'd just been dropped off by our first ride at some outlet mall sort of thing right on the border of Norway and Sweden. We stopped for a chocolate and coffee break before walking a little bit away for a good hitching spot. Didn't take more than five minutes for a silver Mercedes to come to a stop for us. After a quick conversation with the driver we determined we were both headed in the same direction and I jumped up front while Kayzia got in the back. There wasn't much said in the first couple minutes but he broke the silence with some small talk questions like "where are you from?" and whatnot. It didn't take long before he started to tell us more and more interesting things. He told us he was only 16 and wasn't supposed to be driving the car really casually. Me and Kayzia were both burning to ask who owned the car then if he wasn't supposed to be driving it. He then proceeded to tell us about the wild night he'd had partying and how he had to run away from the cops yesterday for some odd reason or another. The story was very jumbled and it was difficult to discern what was true and what wasn't, as well as putting all the events he told us in chronological order. By the end of the car ride we'd learned that he also drives to Germany with his older brother and friends in cars of unknown origin and to buy carloads of liquor to smuggle back into Sweden and sell for profit which is certainly not legal. He told us all about these wild police chases and things him and his friends had to do to get the alcohol into the country. It was all hilarious. We didn't know whether to believe him or not. Maybe he was telling the truth and maybe he wasn't. No doubt he was at least telling some of the truth, we knew that, but he is also a 16 year old boy. Regardless, by then end we were a good 100km down the freeway and had a great story to tell for it. 

The next memorable ride comes from international waters. Yeah, that's right, we hitched while on a boat. We were taking the ferry from Denmark over to Germany because it was the quickest route to get out of these more expensive countries. But to say 'boat' would be a little bit misleading. It was more of a floating mall. It had an all inclusive buffet and a few other restaurants aboard as well as a liquor store and arcade. We spent the hour ride drinking cider and beer on the upper deck. As we neared Germany a voice came over the intercom asking all the drivers to return to their cars. That meant us as well even though we didn't have a car. We quickly gathered our things and went down to the car deck. All around us were people getting into their cars and starting their engines like it was the starting line for a racetrack they were all about to speed off from. Which, in fact, they were because autobahn! Anyways, we walked the lines of cars with our thumbs out and laughing about the ridiculousness of it all as everyone shook their head no or turned their eyes away. At the end of the last line, still, no one had shown any interest in picking us up. But that happens a lot, you have to give them a moment to think about it so we walked the lines again and at the end a man rolled down his window to ask where we were headed. We hopped in, explaining our destination and he was extremely welcoming. Jan was a great guy and we soon learned he was headed to Amsterdam the next day. After a short discussion, it turns out we were also headed to Amsterdam the next day. Germany could wait. 

Ah, Amsterdam. What is there to say about Amsterdam that you haven't heard about already other than it's all true. There are 'coffee shops' on most corners, but no one goes for the coffee. Psychedelic shops aren't hard to find either. And the red light district is nothing short of mesmerizing despite your motivations for checking it out. It really was quite an adventure and a great couple days spent in the city exploring museums and odd cultural peculiarities. I wish we could've spent more time wandering the canals and interacting with the locals, but it was exciting enough that we managed to end up there on accident in the first place. Next time I come around I'll be going back for a more in depth adventure of the city.  

Be happy,

Beacon 

Iceland comes to an end

We woke up after having spent a what can be described as chilly at best night in a bathhouse somewhere, not quite sure where, in Iceland with a stranger who'd picked us up while we were hitchhiking. It was still early but the night we'd spent huddled up inside a primitive house insured that we were ready to go in the morning. There wasn't much to the inside of the structure. There was a small wooden bench against a wall that you could sit on without you back being unnaturally straight and the floor was made of skinny wooden slats upon a concrete floor. The door leading out to the warm pool looked old and rickety, but it did the job we wanted it to do which was to keep the wind from blowing into what was our hope of a cozy night. Despite the undoubtedly dodgy sounding bathhouse we spent the night in it was all amazing as soon as we opened the door to the outside. The view was beautiful. Directly in front of the house was the warm pool and to the left was a river flowing toward the ocean. In the distance I could hear the waterfall that the river was coming from. It was kind of amazing. Kayzia, Ingrid, and I all got our things together around eight or so and, after soaking up our beautiful surroundings, we all walked downriver to where the car was parked to start our day off.

Ingrid was good company. She's a surfer and extremely fun to travel with. Our first stop was at a lighthouse on the top of some cliffs running up to beach. The lighthouse was beautiful, I will admit. The view was great as well. Beach stretching off forever in one direction and incredible rock arches off the the other with wonderful waterfalls and plateaus more inland. That was all cool, but it wasn't the thing that struck us most as we got out of the car. As soon as we opened the car door what stuck us was the wind. I used to think Northern Texas was windy, but it was nothing compared to what I was experiencing on the coastline of Iceland. Literally, I had to lean forward when I walked so that I could stay upright and continue moving forward. And I don't mean slightly forward either, I mean like at a hard angle. It was nuts. Looking over into the ocean the waves were going insane as well. I'm sure part of it was because of the lay of the land, but I could tell the ridiculous amount of wind was also having an effect on the massive waves. They were pounding relentlessly upon the beach. So much so that it made me afraid of the ocean for a moment. Just remember that while you're doing whatever it is you're doing the ocean is waging a war on all fronts.

After getting blown around a bit we went looking for an old army plane that'd crash landed somewhere on the beach. There was no address for the plane and no way for us to navigate to it other than to be like 'Eh, maybe this old farm road is where we need to be?' And that we did. It took us a pass or two before deciding on what we believed to be the right road down to the beach where the crash had been. Fifteen minutes down a sand road later we found the wreck. It was impressive.

After that all there really was for us to find were a bunch of waterfalls along the way. The drive was beautiful though, through some crazy strange environments. At one point we drove through a huge lava field that had been totally conquered by a thick layer of moss. For as far as the eye can see, all I could see was moss, moss, moss. It looked like another planet. After a bunch of driving and some goofing off we made it to the volcano glacier thing we meant to spend the night at. We didn't know where we were going to sleep yet, but we imagined we would do something similar to the night before and find a building to sleep in but it wasn't time for that. We all geared up and set off on a nice hike to a unique waterfall where the rocks surrounding it were all in the shape of hexagonal pillars. It was really cool and we got lucky enough so that it didn't rain on us the whole time. After the waterfall and we rounding the top of the climb there was a beautiful glacier lake was well. It was some beautiful hiking.

Ingrid and Kayzia

Where the three of us finally made it back down to the visitor center decided to all sleep together in one of the large private bathrooms. It's the kind that has a shower in it as well and so it was more than large enough for the three of us It was probably the warmest night we spent in Iceland.

The next morning we said our goodbyes to Ingrid. It'd been really nice getting to know her and not having to worry about finding a ride for a day or two, We wrote down names and became Facebook friends before she went off and we walked over to the main road. She'd offered for us to come visit her in Southern France when we got around that way and we were hoping to do so. That was in the future though and we were worried about hitching back to Reykjavik for our flight to Norway the next day. We made it to the ring road stuck our thumbs out. It was such that we could see cars coming at least five minutes before they finally made it around the long curve to us. Most of them were turning into the nature park we'd spent the night in, but the first car that was passing by us stopped and we met Natalie and Phillip. They were a cute young couple from Austria and we got along well with them. We did some exploring through some craters and the moss fields as well as watching the wind literally blow waterfalls upward. They took us all the way to Reykjavik and had a really good time doing it.

They dropped us off downtown where we decided to find ourselves a hostel for the night. It was difficult and the hostel was nice. I'd become friends with Phillip on Facebook and they'd offered to take us to the Blue Lagoon with them before our flight. The Blue Lagoon is a famous spa/ hot springs in Iceland near the airport and we decided to go along with them. The place was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous and the hot water was everything we needed. We easily spent all day there before Natalie and Phillip dropped us off at the airport. They were great people and hanging out with them had been awesome. They also left us with the offer to come visit them in Austria sometime. Hitchhiking in Iceland was fantastic. It was so awesomely wonderful and a the people we met, both the natives and the tourists, were fantastic. Unfortunately it was time for us to say our goodbyes to Iceland and move on to mainland Europe, beginning with Norway.

Be happy,

Beacon.

Hitching Iceland

It was Kayzia's first hand at hitchhiking and it was a little bit exciting. I don't always get to go hitchhiking with someone, but when I do it's a pleasure. It's nice to have someone to joke with on the side of the road and to share the pain of any exceptionally long wait times with. I'd never hitched in Iceland before but as far as I had heard and from everything I'd gleamed from the map of the country it wouldn't be too extremely difficult. Mostly because Iceland really only has one road, the ring road, and the island nature of a country typically insures good thumbing. 

We'd spent the previous night at a thermal pool with our couchsurfer host, Einar, and eating hotdogs (apparently the national food of Iceland? Well, that and fermented shark). I felt rejuvenated. From the hot water yes, but mostly because it was exiting to stretch my thumb again. It wasn't a long walk from where we'd been staying to where I thought we could get a ride out of town. I don't really know how I pick these spots to hitch from. Sometimes I look at hitchwiki, but usually I pan around google maps until my unnatural hitching sense tells me 'that's the spot for a ride'. 

I was feeling a little bit of pressure this morning though as I talk a big hitching game and I wanted this to be a great first experience for Kayzia. The first spot we stopped at would have worked, but we were standing in the shade of some frosted trees on the side of the road and it was damn cold. We moved up a little bit to sunnier hitching and ended up finding a pretty good piece of road. It was under a half hour before Thoran (I'm not pretending I spelt that name correctly) picked us up. 

I'm not saying it's uncommon to be picked up by a single woman, but it's never what I expect. Somehow, still, it happens frequently. Thoran was a nice girl who'd, judging by the arrangement of booster seats in the back, just dropped her kids off  somewhere. She wasn't going far but she got us out of Reykjavik and to the one highway, highway 1, which was all we needed to get a longer ride. 

It was about 15 or 20 minutes before Kester stopped for us. He was a professor of technical drawing at the trade school in Reykjavik. He was on his way back home to a village about an hour outside of the capitol. This was our first real look at what Iceland looked like as not 5 minutes into the ride we were driving across lava fields with a fresh blanket of snow laying on top. Kester pointed out the various volcanoes for us and pronounced all with their increasingly difficult names. We attempted a few of them and I admit my tongue was not made for Icelandic. He took us around a bit and gave us a tour of his small village with 600 residents before leaving us outside his town and next to the only long term prison in Iceland. 

Never fear, there're only a hundred people in the one prison for an entire country. Pretty docile place. The first car that drove by, maybe 2 minutes later, gave us a ride up to the next town of Selfoss. It was another single woman who happened to be named Thoran as well. We took a break at Subway to get out of the cold and the wind for a second and then walked out of the small town to stand on the side of the road with the Icelandic ponies. 

We waited a little longer for this ride and we were getting cold when a work truck pulled over for us. It was a woman who owns a plumbing business and was off to check out a job site. She took us a good chunk down the road and left us at a nice petrol station. We bought an extremely expensive bottle of Vodka (because it's ridiculously taxed in Iceland), for the cold of course and went out in hope of one more ride before the sun set around 5. 

We stood for a short time, but it appeared most of the traffic was local. Ingrid was the one who stopped for us. She was French, on vacation in Iceland for a little while. She was driving around seeing the sights and such. Without even much of a conversation about it we all took it that we were a team now, at least for a little while. We became the navigators and she the driver. It was a good match up I think as we went along the coast exploring the magical waterfalls Iceland has nearly everywhere. 

We had done zero research for our trip to Iceland so thank goodness Ingrid knew what she was doing and what to look for.  There was the normal smattering of conversation before we came upon the first waterfall. And it was incredible. 

Down the highway about twenty minutes next waterfall was notning shy of spectacular either.

It was huge

While climing to the top of this waterfall we saw someone ahead of us who looked a bit familiar. And behold, it happened the lads we'd met up with for the spinning of the wheel had found their way out of Reykjavik and to this waterfall as well! Just a little bonus 'small world' feeling.

We did some catching up with them and they told us about this hot spring around the corner. The sun was about to set at this point but Ingrid, Kayzia, and I all decided we'd camp at the springs for the night. So we said goodbye to the boys and made our way down the cliffside to the car and on our way to some springs.

It took us a little bit to find the dirt road leading up to the edge of the plateu. Once we found the parking area though it was easy for us to find our way to the springs. It was gorgeous and we'd arrived just as it was getting dark. We were all extremely excited because it was cold out and sitting in a hot spring was going to be amazing. Me and Kayzia set our tent up while Ingrid did the same with hers, then we changed in the small bathhouse that was next to the pool that'd been made to collect the hot water. We got in. I'm not gonna say it was cold, but it certainly wasn't hot! All three of us soon realized out mistake and bailed ASAP. Soon after that we abandoned the tents as well and all joined forces on the wooden slats in the bathhouse. It was still cold, but much warmer (the vodka helped). We stayed up talking that night hoping the norther lights would come out. We were dissappointed by the lights, but I think our first real day hitching was a success.

The 'hot' spring

Be happy,

Beacon

Reykjavik

More than a few people asked me why I was going to Iceland, but I didn't have an answer for them. Simply put my logic went like this: Iceland is on the way to Europe and I want to walk El Camino de Santiago in northern Spain. 

But really, it was on the way to Europe and who wouldn't want to take a nice dip in a few thermal pools on the way to hike El Camino de Santiago? Our plane left Boston around 7 and arrived at 4 in the morning. The airport security checking our passports looked about as enthusiastic as we did, which was not very due to the early morning and rough nights sleep. 

Hi. How long will you be staying? Next. 

It was too early to be enthusiastic about   hitchhiking so we decided to take the bus into Reykjavik instead which was a good 35 minute drive from the airport. It didn't much look like there'd be anyone to thumb a ride from anyways. 

We'd decided to try AirBnB for the first time and we'd landed upon Daniel. He'd offered to pick us up at the bus station in Reykjavik. I thought it astounding considering it would be 7:30 in the morning. What other hotel allows you to check in that early?! The message he had sent us was only one sentence long: "I will have a white dog on my shoulder." He was easy enough to find.

So there we were, sitting in the bus station, when a man with a small white dog on his shoulder stepped out of his car. Turns out chihuahuas made it to Iceland somehow. 

Kayzia enjoying Chichi

Daniel was great. He made us coffee as soon as we got to his place as well as some Icelandic pancakes with rhubarb jam. It was fantastic. Through our brief interactions with Daniel in the early morning we learned a few things about Iceland. Mostly, that polar bears float over on the polar ice and run free in Iceland. Daniel mentioned it mutliple times saying: In 1918, the year my great grandmother was born, nearly 70 polar bears crossed over to Iceland. There were no helicopters or firearms. Can you imagine fighting a polar bear with a pike axe? It was December 31st and my great grandmother was a triplet, if she had been born just 1 hour later she would have been born in a different year than her siblings. My great great grandfather was sharpening his axe at the door during labor in case any polar bears broke in during labor."

Apparently it was very important we know this.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around Reykjavik. 

Big Lebowski bar

------------------------------------------------

After hitting up a couple of the themed bars they had on the main strip, such as the Big Lebowski bar, we ended up in the English bar for a pint of Guiness. Looking up at the wall behind the bar there was a wheel similar to that on wheel of fortune expcept instead of dollar values there were things such as "One beer" or "Two beers". About half of the options were "SORRY" and the two best winnings were "Eight Beers" or "A meter of beer". We were discussing your odds at coming out ahead, because it cost nearly twenty dollars to spin it, and decided the odds weren't bad when a group of young boys came in hollering "Spin the wheel!!" The young girl bartending pulled the wheel back as far as she could and gave it a hard spin. The previously loud and chattering atmosphere in the bar was suddenly hushed a considerable amount as most the patrons turned to watch the the rapid ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ticking of the pointer as it the pegs lining the outside of the wheel spun. She'd given it a good push and it took a moment for it to start to slow down. As it slowed the bar got more and more interested in the wheel. Instead of getting quieter though shouts of encouragment to the wheel started coming out, a lot of "Come on!"s and such until it got really slow. Then evey time it passed something good like the 8 beers or the meter of beer there'd be a short increase in excitment as if it'd help the wheel stop. Until it finally landed upon  the "Spin again" and the suspense started all over again. T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tick-tick-tick...tick (COMMON!!!)...tick (YES YES YES!!!)...... tick (WHOA YEAH!!!). And the whole bar let out a triumphent roar as the wheel landed on a meter of beer. The bartenders quickly got to work filling up 10 beers to make the full meter as the guys and everyone celebrated. We just happened to be the ones sitting next to them when they won and we just happened to be finishing our beers. They passed a few our way and so began a hell of a first night in Iceland.

Skiffin'

There were a myriad of reasons for the way I was feeling.

1. I was alone

2. I was wearing a hat

3. What I was doing was a little bit crazy, not a lot, but just enough

4. It was beautiful

5. I was smitten, with a girl

1. I was alone. That may not seem like a big deal. It’s not uncommon to find one’s self alone after all. However, when I work on a boat for nearly three months I find that it is quite uncommon and come the end of the season, regardless the caliber of my crew, I find myself praying for some time spent in perfect solitude without one single chance of interruption. Would you like to know what my favourite feeling in the entire world is? The thing that beats anything and everything there’s ever been in all of creation? It’s when I finally get home, whether it’s from the boat or from traveling, and I can sit alone in my car with the radio turned up as high as it’ll go and I can sing my little heart out. I’m not a good singer and I don’t sing in front of people. Not even drunk. Not even karaoke. But, when I am alone in my car, as most do, I turn into a rock star and I can let loose the tension that naturally builds up in a person. It’s the best feeling in the world, especially after being unable to do so for so long. That’s why I was happy that I was alone. I was truly alone and I could yell and scream and sing and not give a damn because the only thing anyone would hear was, maybe, a faint echoing wail bouncing off the mountains. I was going on a skiff ride. For those of you who don’t know, a skiff is a small boat that we have with our larger boat. It’s the equivalent of going on a car ride for me because it was a long skiff ride and I was going it alone. I had my headphones and a playlist ready to go as well. It was going to be a two parter and I had at least 45 minutes of ‘me against the world’ ahead of me after I skiffed by the Hoonah scow, or the scow girls as their called. That was the first part of the skiff ride, I needed to get my hat.

2. The scow is like our ‘neighbor’. Normally I am anchored up in Mite cove on the Deer Harbor II. On a nice day when I look between the mainland and Mite Island there is this little floating house with a crane anchored in the next little bite over with the Fairweather mountains sloping down to Taylor glacier in the background. That little floating house is the scow. In the Crustliner it’s about a 10 minute skiff ride and I feel like I’m sinking the whole time. In the Bullfrog it takes 5 and I’m catching air if there’s a swell. I was in the Bullfrog, and I was catching air. I had on a flannel that the girl in #5 had given me and it made me feel special, almost like I had super powers and the small skiff wasn’t what was making me fly over the water like this. I was on my way there for one reason, and one reason only. They had a hat for me. But not just any hat, a hat the girl had made for me. It’s hard to know where I’m going to be and even harder for other people to know that same thing. So she’d sent the hat over to the scow in hopes that I’d stop by sometime and they could give it to me. I didn’t feel like stopping over there as it was in the opposite direction of my ultimate goal, but I wanted, no, I needed, that hat. I gunned it all the way up to their small dock, basically some aluminum bolted to two logs with some small pink cleats running along it. I tied the Bullfrog off by the bow and as soon as Megan saw me she went upstairs and brought me down a small bundle of fabric. Everyone there knew I was there for that hat and nothing else. She handed it over to me with a ‘I should have given you this a long time ago’ which kind of made my heart sink. I thanked her, made an excuse to everyone for not hanging around, which was promptly ignored, and I hopped back in the Bullfrog with my bounty. Off I went with the hat fighting to get out of my pocket. All I wanted to do was wear it, but I didn’t look at it immediately as I was savoring the suspense. I waited until I was out of sight of the scow, or at least far away enough to feel alone, until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I pulled the hat out of my back pocket to examine it. It was beautiful. Really, it was. It was layered in 5 colours. Starts out maroon on the bottom, one of my new favourtie colours, followed by a light light blue mixed with an almost grey, then a sky blue, a light gray, and a dark navy blue on top. The little tag on the side, which was made out of a piece of rubber glove, the kind all the fishermen wear, had the initials IQ on the outside and my name on the inside. It stands for Ice Queen. Not because she’s cold, but because she is damn good at what she does. She is who I was going to see in Pelican, the small boardwalk town, down the strait 7 or 8 nautical miles. I was ready to ride for an hour through anything the ocean/weather was willing to throw at me just so I could see the Ice Queen and it was all okay, because I had a hat.

3. It’s not super crazy to skiff from Mite cove to Pelican, but most people don’t do it. It’s just that the strait is a very large body of water and the skiff is very small vessel. If I were to hit anything, a floating log or some of the other debris that frequents the straights, I could easily fall out of skiff and be lost to the cold water. And visibility isn’t always the best as fog and pouring rain can be a factor. I was lucky in the sense that it wasn’t foggy when I left. I was also lucky that the seas were nice enough for me to make the ride and it was slow enough for me to take the night off. I was not so lucky in the factor of pouring rain, but that was only to be expected. I had the Bullfrog, an extra gas can, and a warm hat. I’d bundled my raingear in the bow with a roadie and a life jacket I never planned to use. It was going to be a bit of a skiff ride, but I was more than stoked about it. A lot because of that alone feeling I was looking for, but more of it because I was off to see the Ice Queen. It wasn’t super crazy, I mean it was a little bit, skiffing to Pelican to see this girl, but it wasn’t totally nuts.

4. It was beautiful. Fucking beautiful. Behind me huge cumulous clouds were billowing above the Fairweather mountain range. They were glowing a soft pink as the setting sun spilled itself upon them from somewhere across the Gulf of Alaska. Since I was headed towards Pelican the swell was with me and it was smooth riding with the wind in my beard and cold water v-ing out behind the skiff. There were two ranges of mountains, one on either side of me, which created the inlet I was in and each mountain that was further than the next in the distance was just a little bit hazier and bluer in colour as happens with distances of a grander natures. They started out a dark green and faded to gray-blue shapes near the limits of my vision. I was singing away, more a screech than anything, and ecstatically thankful for my good fortune on the skiff ride when a dark gray wall appeared across the inlet in front of me. It’d come from nowhere, but I had expected nothing less. I throttled down and let the little skiff sit at an idle with the wake catching up and lapping against the stern. I left it in gear and took my hand off the tiller. Without my hand to hold it straight the outboard flopped to the side and, since I was still idling in forward, started driving the skiff in small circles. I stood up and put on my bibs. I put on my rain jacket as well and whipped the hood over my hat. I opened my roadie and drank it down swiftly as I watched the wall get closer and closer to me while the skiff turned itself in shallow circles. It was a heavy rain. I finished my beer and, doing like the natives, ripped the can in half and threw it over. Sat back down and throttled straight into the downpour as only a man on a mission can. It wasn’t bad at first, but soon it really started coming down and I could hardly see in front of me. It was a feat just to keep my hood from flying back and I could only look ahead with one eye as the other was being brutally battered by the sky. I passed what they call the ‘lollipop’, a marker for a shallow spot, and I could see the small island that signified a little over half way not too far off. The skiff wouldn’t go any faster, but that’s probably good because the heavy raindrops already stung my skin as I buzzed over the salt water. The coldness was dripping down the sleeve of my rain jacket as I tried to keep my hood from flying off. I was determined to keep that hat dry. My throttle hand was going numb, but I wasn’t about to slow down. I wanted to be there because it was cold and because I had butterflies in my stomach. The closer I got the more they went into a tizzy. I was determined. I was going to Pelican and I didn’t care how much it was raining and I didn’t care how cold it was. Then, suddenly, I broke out of it. I’d punctured the wall of rain and found myself on the other side of it. I could see the edge of the ice plant and the three islands they call first, second, and third (real original Alaska). I was almost there, I was going to make it to Pelican. And it was beautiful.

5. It’s that silly giddy feeling you get in high school when your crush looks at you. That’s how I felt. She’s the Ice Queen because she makes the ice at the plant in Pelican. I’m fairly smitten with her. And by fairly I mean entirely. Really, there’s not too much more I want to divulge about it. Just know I was extremely elated.

Be happy,

Beacon

Whales, whales, whales

               I’m back in Alaska! Woohoo! I’m back with Amber and Gordon and the boat! Yay Alaska! I certainly did miss it here, I always do. Sometimes I pretend like I don’t, but, truly, I always do. It just can’t be beat. The scenery, the food, the people. Nothing has ever compared to it no matter how far I’ve ventured. There’s something innately awesome about that. It may have something to with the incredible scenery and wildlife or it may be that Alaska feels like home. I do feel that way towards boats now and everyone loves their home. So why wouldn’t I love Alaska in that same way? I feel lucky to have found something as cool as this. Really lucky.

Okay, now that I’ve set the stage, let’s talk about whales.

               Whales are pretty cool. I don’t really know what they do all day. Whale stuff I suppose. I just presume whale stuff is pretty cool. Maybe it isn’t, but I think it is. So, the other day we were headed from south Chatham up to Sitka. We were loaded down with around 200 totes of fish, kings and cohos, and only sinking a little bit. It’d been a lot of running the few days before that and we were a little bit ragged from all the nights spent driving up and down the TOTALITY of SE Alaska. Amber was up at the wheel driving and she called down to let us know there were a ton’o’whales happenin’. Not really a big deal because there’re always whales hangin’ about. I mean, it used to be like ‘oh my god whales!’, but now it’s more like ‘cool, some whales, call me if they do something badass’. Sometimes they’ll breach, but you don’t see it all that every time. They have to be in the mood. Lots of the time they’ll do this weird flipper flap thing where they lay on their back and flap a flipper around. It almost looks as if they’re waving at me when they do it. But, mostly, I just watch their little back come out the water when they come up to blow. It’s an awkwardly shaped back too. Well, if you ask me it is. Like they used to have a dorsal fin but it’d been deemed unnecessary during some sort of evolutionary phase. Maybe that's why they're called humpbacks.

The ones Amber had just spotted were off the starboard bow. Humpbacks normally aren’t that exciting. They don’t have the element of grace or danger that orcas do, they just blow a lot. It’s still fun to watch that, don’t get me wrong, but if I’m really comfy somewhere I’m not going to ruin that just to see some little spouts of water being blown upwards from the ocean. Lucky for us, on this particular day, there must’ve been something in the water because the humpbacks were going crazy. We could see them breaching a ways off, sometimes a couple at a time. Really rad. Amber was excited, I was excited, and the greenhorns were REALLY excited. Normally, as we start to get closer to whales, they show us their tail and dive, but Amber took the Deer Harbor out of gear and ghosted up to them. They continued breaching. Over and over and over again. There were these two that just wouldn’t stop breaching and flapping their flippers (flipping their flappers?). Definitely hams. I’m sure they were just trying to impress us with their moves. They certainly weren’t camera shy. It’s a rule of thumb that as soon as I grab my camera the whales disappear, but not this time. They loved it. They bathed in it. They kept at it with zeal, like they were getting paid for this photo shoot. All four of us sat there watching these whales play for half an hour. They were so close that Gordon, the boat dog, was afraid of the giant *SLAP* they would make as they came crashing back down on top of the ocean.

*SLAP*----------*SLAP*----------*SLAP*

Their little humped back

Whale tail 

The force it must take for them to launch out of the water like that…

Flapping flippers and flipping flappers

What a ham

              

All in all, whales are pretty cool. 

Be happy, 

Beacon 

Adios Seattle!

I was still coming down from the days hike. Not physically and not literally, but mentally. I was wrapping my head around the scenery, replaying it over and over again within the boundaries of my mind. I couldn’t believe something so dramatic existed here in Seattle’s backyard. The Cascades had been arcane. When my attention dances away to fantasy worlds, those are the mountains I’ve always found. When I read Lord of the Rings, the Cascades are what Frodo and his rough crew trek through. Not New Zealand, but, apparently, Washington. Those mountains on the Seattle horizon are everything mountains are supposed to be. Jagged, ragged, and protruding from Earth with an urgency. Like frozen, wind-whipped waves. Slanted slabs flaring out of alpine lakes at intense angles. Each distant peak a dark star in the day sky. The peaks were frothy, the slants were serene, and the mountains themselves? They were wicked.

Transcending over it all, dizzyingly, Rainier was in the distance. I could feel Rainier’s presence as I stood atop a small peak, yoked to the earth, looming over me. No matter the distance, if you can see Rainier you can feel it. It’s similar to the look and feel of a full moon in the daytime. As if it’s a backdrop and the world is the stage, so immense that it’s not even real. It looks like a projection or, perhaps, a giant cutout someone has propped up against the horizon. The mountain sits there, with white hair, just watching. Quietly waiting. Watching.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The view had been the same one I’d seen photographed in a thousand adventure magazines, yet it was still a hundred times better than that. It hadn’t been what I’d expected to see only an hour and a half out of Seattle and I’m still quite shocked. It was incredible, hiking of that quality lying so near a city as large as Seattle, and it wasn’t completely overwhelmed by the masses either. I suppose there were so many peaks, so many little secrets and Easter eggs to be discovered, that the hiking wealth could easily be spread around. For me, it was love at first hike. It made me want to revive manifest destiny. And, when I crested that one tiny summit in the midst of the field of mountains, all I could think was ‘everything I’ve done in life has been worth it, because it got me here, to this view’. Being up there I had wanted to be nowhere else. My breath had been taken, and I didn’t really expect it to be returned anytime soon.

Juke Box and I had climbed one of the countless hikes that disappear skyward to secret lakes nestled in the mountains. It was a steep climb, but absolutely worth it as we laid out next to the clear, cool water. It was pooled between two peaks, perfect for swimming and drinking the Scuttlebutt beers we’d packed up the mountain. I was grateful that Juke had taken the time to bring me here. It was nice being able to have a little bro-time for a while. It keeps a guy sane. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with women, but, when I spend too much time with them I tend to go a bit insane. It seems I always meet up with the opposite sex while traveling. That’s just how it works for me. It’s not often I walk into a bar somewhere and walk out with a bromance you know? It’s always Tinder or meeting a girl out on the town. Long story short, I was pretty thankful for some chill time in the mountains without feeling like I had to impress someone.

Even so, earlier, before the hike, and knowing it was going to be my last night in Seattle, I’d arranged to meet a girl later that night. This would be the last chance I would be able to see a girl in this capacity before work in Alaska began and, needless to say, with 3 months on a boat waiting ahead of me, I was pretty interested in making it happen with a girl that night. Juke knew of my plans and asked me if we should get started down the mountain around five or six since it was a bit of a hike back to where the Mini Cooper was parked at the trailhead. I thought about it.

We were laying in the sun, on a rock slanting into the lake, and we’d just climbed down from the peak behind us which had had a 360 degree view of all the mountains in the area around us, including Rainier. I’d gone for a swim over to the small island in the middle of the lake. It was a hot day and the lake was cold. The sun was out and the beer was good. I really didn’t want to leave. Somehow the thought of one last night with a girl had been dampened. It wasn’t as important as it had seemed that morning. Somehow, I’d lost my sense of urgency. I’d wanted to tell him ‘forget the girl man, the world’s fucking me better right now than she ever could’. Somehow I didn’t say it. I should have, but I didn’t. And I’m typing it now, so that’s close, right? I was probably too afraid to sound like a fluff if I said it. People don’t talk like that in the real world and it scares me sometimes because I think like that a lot. Like a poet. Not that I’m a poet, but sometimes I think whimsically. I’m afraid to talk like a poet though. I don’t like them, but I guess I’ve never met a legit one... Still, I should have said it and, to be honest, I regret not staying at that lake.

The sun was going down over the steep mountains as we hiked out. Looking up at the sky I knew it was beautiful. I knew the whole sky would be afire tonight and the view from the top of the mountain would have been breathtaking. It was sad leaving. But Juke Box had work the next day and I had a girl to meet. I just wish we could have stayed the night. Camped out to watch the sky put a show on for us over that little lake. I wish we would’ve done that. I wish I would’ve let the world fuck me. I prefer stars to ceilings anyways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don’t know how the citizens of Washington have managed to keep all this on the hush. I don’t know how they’ve managed to hide the fact that there is the most amazing, endless hiking right around the corner from their spot on the sound. The only conclusion I can come up with is that the people of Seattle are all required to sign a contract stating ‘I will tell no one, friend or foe, of the treasures we hold’. I’ll probably never be allowed into the club merely because I’ve typed this out. Regardless, kudos to them. I can’t believe it still. I can’t believe how good it was and I can’t believe I’ve never heard a lick about it. They’ve got some discipline, and skill, to keep it all out of the national eye. Props. I’ll be back, don’t think I won’t. You’ve captured my attention if not my heart Seattle. Thanks, a little galvanization always helps the cause.

Be happy,

Beacon

Just a couple more stories before I'm gone

Hitch with truckers

There was one day I woke up and I just didn't want to ride my bike. I don't know what it was or why, but something inside of me was morally opposed to riding a bicycle all day. I didn't wanna do it. Maybe it was my chafed butt or the longer days we'd been pulling? Whatever it was, it was something. Stumbles was kind of tired too, but not like I was. She dragged me out and onto my bicycle somehow.

The wind wasn't even bad, I don't know what was wrong with me. I could go, I just really really really did not want to. I said fuck it. I'd ridden most of the miles for the day and I didn't want to continue hating myself for the next couple hours. It's about the smiles, not about the miles (generally our motto if we had to hitch somewhere due to something or other). I get on the side of the interstate with my professional hitchers stance and thrust my thumb out. I'm mentally prepared to admit to someone I'm just a tired bum who doesn't feel like riding the last bit of miles. I stand there for 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 20. I start singing to myself. 30 minutes. Every passing truck raising my hopes, giving me a shot, but none answering my call. 40 minutes... A semi-truck pulls off on the side of the road. A semi? Really? A fucking semi? 

First off, in all of my professional hitchhiking career around America not one semi-truck has ever pulled over on the side of the interstate to pick me up. Yet here I am, not even properly hitching, with a bicycle on the side of the road, and a semi has pulled over. I really thought he'd just pulled over for something else and it had nothing to do with me. Until he got out of the truck and waved me over. Like seriously? Where am I going to put the bike? I still couldn't believe a semi had pulled over for me. I walk over to where he had pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate. The guy hardly speaks English, but he gestures me into the truck. I gesture to my bike. He gestures to the truck. Whatever, I shrug, climb into the passenger seat, and greet his driving partner sitting in the back bunk. The guy then hands up my bicycle through the passenger door and we manage to fit it in between the passenger and driver seat. He closes my door, runs around the front of the truck, and hops in. Then we're off.

The driver was from Mongolia and his partner, the one in the back bunk, was from Iran. I talked a little bit with the driver, but his English was not very good. He soon reaches around behind the drivers seat, pulls out a half gallon of grapefruit juice, and gets me to fill my water bottles up with them. He goes back to driving and the guy in the back seat starts talking to me. His English was probably better than mine and we instantly launched into traveling stories. I'll never forget, he was telling me about Iran in the present time and some of the political things going on there, when we had this bit of conversation: The reason things are bad right now is because the people who have been deprived and crazed for all of history have finally gotten into power. I asked him what the name of the group was, the group that was now in power. Who are the deprived and crazed? He looked at me as if I was a little slow and answered me simply, "They're the religious people." We both laughed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Bozeman

We'd organized a warm showers host for the night in Bozeman, Montana. John was his name, and from everything I could tell (via our texts) he seemed like he'd be a great host. It'd been a long short day. The wind had been brutal and, when we finally got to the pass taking us over the mountain, the hill wasn't even large enough to block the headwind. We were riding uphill and into the wind. I guess we should have been used to the wind by that point in the journey, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t still curse it profusely. The backside wasn’t any better either. We were going downhill, but the wind was making us pedal for that downhill. That’s just wrong.

When we finally arrived at the bottom of the hill and roll off the on ramp on our way to this guy’s house we find him waiting there for us at the first stoplight. A cool greeting to come into town to. He guides us back to his house, through the wall of bushes, and into the back yard.

Turns out we were his first Warm Showers experience. He’d never hosted anyone else before! We got to be the pilot episode for him! He did a damn fine job and I hope we didn’t disappoint him either. He was ecstatic to be hosting us. He’d bought us groceries to make sandwiches with, oranges, watermelon, and he’d made this super incredible guacamole. All of which we devoured. He introduced us to his wife, Donna, and we quickly got the whole story. John had signed up for the Warm Showers program without really ever telling is wife. When he got my message he asked her if it’d be alright for us to stay. She didn’t want anything to do with it. I suppose it is kind of strange to invite smelly strangers into your house for a while? I’m used to it at least. After she wasn’t so receptive to it he asked her “So, I should tell them: Sorry, you can’t stay here because my wife is a bitch?” She agreed to let us stay. Her and Stumbles kicked it off super great. And you could tell she actually was having a good time. We hung out and chatted and laughed and drank before finally the mention that maybe we should stay an extra day came up. Just like that, it turned out we were zeroing in Bozeman.

It happened to be one of my favorite zero days. Why? Because we did absolutely nothing and it was absolutely fantastic. Literally, all day, we sat out in ‘wicker heaven’, what they call their outdoor patio, reading and drinking beer. I can’t even describe how good it was for me to just have a reading zero during this bike ride. For some reason that was all I’d been craving. And It was sweet bliss. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

There ya' go, two more small stories from the adventure. I'm off to Alaska in a few days! Not totally sure if I'll get some more biking stories out there or maybe some other stories, but I'll do my best! 

Hope everyone is happy out there, 

Beacon

P.S. Good job supreme court. 

Well, we made it... SEATTLE BABY!!!!

I can tell it's time. I can tell it's time to drag my sore ass out of bed by the sunshine, by the birds, and by the sound of Stumbles gathering her gear. Forget that. I roll back over and bury my face into a strange pillow, just the flavour of the day.

I can tell it's past time. I can tell it's past time to drag my still sore ass out of bed by the way I ignored it actually being time to do so a half hour ago. And by Stumbles telling me she's going to start riding and she'd see me down the road. Not too uncommon an occurrence. Me being a late (6:30am) riser and all, it's not such a bad thing that she get's out ahead of me and puts some miles on. This is the last day though. This is it, this is summit day, Katahdin day, the final push, the last shebang, the final ride, the yada yada yada. 108ish miles to Seattle. 108ish miles to the city we'd finally settled on being our destination after a transamerican bicycle ride. How am I not jumping out of bed at the thought?! How am I not eager to perch my sore behind in that high saddle?! I am actually. I am ready. I am savoring it. Savoring that taste of victory in my mouth before I set out on the last leg of this endeavor. It taste a bit like whiskey. Harsh but you love it, and the more you swallow it the easier it goes down the next time. It's a good damn taste.

I didn't even unpack last night. I took a shower and changed into town clothes. I didn't touch anything other than that, so it makes packing up this morning especially easy. I look at my two kits. One matches my bike a little better than the other, the black and white one, and I choose that one. Gotta look fly when you cross the line ya' know? Pull my socks up even with the black/white (basically) tan line on my ankles. Look around for my gloves, but remember I lost them in a drunken stupor a few nights back and decide to put sunscreen on my white hands instead. That's it innit? I believe so. Ready to leave I step out of the little side room we were staying in to sign the note we were leaving for the warm showers host we'd stayed with, Gerard. Turns out he'd just risen himself and he invites me to sit down. A little oatmeal and some Vietnamese coffee'll do my good before the bomb. So, I sit down and we do some chattin' before I decide to go for the disengage. Gerard follows me out the garage, chats a bit will I slip on my cleated shoes, and then waves goodbye as I clip in and tenderly rub my butt on the saddle to make sure the twelvefuckingthousand ibuprofen I just took have set in. They have. And I'm gone. Not with the wind, but into it.

SERIOUSLY. It's the last day. The very last f'n day (<== he says in a very whiny voice). Couldn't life please, please please please please, just give me a tailwind so I can slaughter these miles? I want a 4 hour century, I want to slaughter this, I want to sit down in Seattle and drink a celebratory whiskey. Please? But no. No no no no no. Not even close. It's a, and I am not exaggerating, it's AT LEAST a 25mph headwind. Do you know what that is like? That is like riding through water. That is what it's like to be a fly and to be swatted. It was like the sky was crashing down around me. The sky was falling in a torrent, pouring down the mountain walls, booming into me. And there was nothing, nothing, I could do about. The wind was so thick, so brutally harsh, I felt as if I needed to hold my breath in order not to drown under its weight. It was crushing me. I was taking 7mph out of it on the flats. On the f'n flats! It took such a grand effort to crank on the uphills I thought I felt my muscles tearing. I thought I was going to bend my crank and shear the teeth off my gears with the amount of leg I had to put into each stroke over and over and over again. For 24 agonizingly slow miles I put my head down and I went for it. And the wind went for me, doing all it could to stop me. This was the last day though. All the chips were on the table. It didn't matter if I couldn't ride the next day, or the day after that. None of that mattered. What mattered was this: It was the last day, and, in my opinion, the wind had no business to speak up in a matter such as that.
----------------------------------------------------

Thank goodness or something, but the wind got a little bit better once I got in the Lee of Snoqualmie. Snoqualmie pass was the last pass I had between me and Seattle. He was it, the last long climb. And I was ready. I hit his base with a fury. I was ready for a fight. I'd even took the day before to express mail him a letter, just so he wasn't unprepared for my attack:

Dear Snoqualmie,

Alright, so this is it. I'm throwing down the gauntlets, I'm calling you down. You and one hundred miles are all that stands between me and Seattle. The three thousand before didn't stop me, so don't believe that you have the slightest chance. I'll meet you tomorrow, at noon. We'll duke it out. Then, and only then, when the dust has settled, when I am looking down on you, we'll see who's really a mountain, and who's just a pass.

Or something to that effect. It was intimidating. It was fierce. It was so impressive that Snoqualmie shut itself down to bikers. No, for reals, there was construction at the top and a little sign that said "Fuck you cyclist" (Not really, it just said "Cyclist must exit here", but I like to make things a little more dramatic than they really are sometimes). So, for once, I abided by the warning signs and exited the interstate. I was standing there looking at the detour sign and thinking to myself. This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. Who even knows what a 'bike' detour is. I don't want to go do a decent down the side of a mountain. And, as I was sitting there pondering/ staring like a retard at the detour sign, a guy pulls up and ask me if I want a shuttle past the construction. Well.... yeah?

It goes basically to the top of Snoqualmie. The rest is downhill. I'll call it a TKO.
----------------------------

Until I got a flat. That actually wasn't downhill. If you ask me it was actually quite shit and a bit of a low blow by life. All's well that ends well though and while I was changing my flat these two touring cyclist rolled up, soon followed by Stumbles. They're a boy and girl. Brother and sister. Andy and Daniela. Turns out, the world is kinda small. They were ending their touring trip in Seattle as well. On the very same day that we were ending our touring trip in Seattle. Seriously, what're the chances?! They were coming from Miami and we from Maryland, all four headed to Seattle to end an adventure! We exchange numbers for shenanigans later, they ride on, and we change my tube.
----------------------------

And, to be honest, the finish was pretty anti-climatic, kind of like this blog post. It was nothing like fighting the wind that morning. It was nothing like the courage it took to start this thing. It was no great push at the end, no mountain to climb or miles to conquer. The finish was a maze of bike paths to get to the edge of Seattle, and, once we got there, we couldn't find anywhere for a photo or a tire dip. We ended up at a bar, exhausted, neither of us could even tell it was over. I had a double shot of Jameson. The two cyclist we'd met earlier, Andy and Daniela, came by and spent the night with us. We all laughed at the headwinds. Mitch, Stumbles' friend from trail (whom we're staying with while in Seattle), came for the party too. We all took the ferry across the sound to watch the sunset and see a view of the Seattle the skyline. Seattle, we'd made it. We'd ridden our bicycles across America. We still didn't know it was over yet, and, to be honest, I still don't know it now. But it is, and, I suppose, that's as grand a finish as I could hope for.

Be happy, 

Beacon

It's like I can see Seattle

It's happening. It's really actually completely in real life happening. I'm in Spokane. Spokane! It's like Seattle is just over the horizon! This is the last state. I'm in Washington. The last final pushes! There's only one hill left, Snoqualmie, and I'm not worried in the least. I have less than 300 miles to ride to Seattle. I could walk that if I had to. It's going to put it right at about 3,000 miles in 7 weeks of riding through 13 states, East coast to West coast. Me and Stumbles' first time touring. Am I ready for it to be over? Maybe. My ass is still sore, but I'm excited. That's a good word for it, I'm excited. I can already tell I'll look back on this and remember what it was like to wake up every morning with the sole purpose of consuming food and riding a bicycle, West, into the wind. There's just something about the simplicity of these trips that really appeals to me. No worries, just go in a direction. It's a beautiful way to do something. 

I haven't blogged on here in a while and I know the few that I did do weren't quite quality. But, understand, that you get busy when you're traveling and some (most) days, after riding your bike 100+ miles, typing a post on your phone is the least appealing thing you can imagine. When I get done riding I wanna kick it. Find some food, some cold drink, and put my feet in the air. This is just a little 'I'm alive' post and 'this is where I am' post. In the past month in a half I have met countless countless people. Incredible strangers. People I never would have otherwise met if I hadn't perched my butt in the saddle every day with manifest destiny in mind. The scenery has been incredible and some of the days have been real challenges. But there are stories behind it all. I'm hoping to catch up on all of it once I get to Seattle. Maybe I can sit down for a few days and write it all out for y'all. Write it out decently too, not this drabness of late. Then you can have the stories, and then, hopefully, you'll decide to buy a bike and go for a ride as well! 

Just a teaser photo 

Planning to make it to Seattle in 3-4 days, Real stories to come after that I hope. 

Be happy everyone!

Beacon 

Warm Showers

There is this thing out there called Warm Showers. It's a program similar to that of Couchsurfing, but it is designed specifically targeting long distance cyclist. Somewhere along our little bike ride someone told us about this and we decided to give it a shot because why not? It sounded like a cool thing and we would be able to save a bit of money on the ride which happens to always be a plus. These are our three experiences with warm showers so far: Faith and Robert, Kevin, and Jess.

----------------------------------------------

Faith and Robert

We had no idea what to expect. We were in the middle of nowhere Iowa and here we are going to meet these two people we know nothing about other than that somehow they have an affinity towards cyclists. So we roll up to their cute little house still not knowing what to expect, and we're greeted by an extremely cute couple who give us the short tour of the house. They turn the whole basement over to us to make ourselves at home in and then give us a little bit of space. We take showers and get laundry going, of course, because those are always our priorities once we arrive somewhere, and then tentatively head upstairs to talk to our hosts still uncertain of the host-hostee relationship here. They immediately offer us an assorment of drinks, wine for Stumbles and bourbon for me. And they launch into these awesome stories of all the things they've been doing together all these years. You see, Faith is a school teacher and Robert is a school nurse, so they both have their summers off every year to go adventuring, which they take full advantage of. They have us help them cook up some dinner and we have a little dinner party and swap adventure stories with them telling us about El Camino de Santiago, and us telling them about the Appalachian trail and South America. Then, as if all this isn't grand enough, we all go out to soak in the crazy awesome hottub outback after dinner! I can't tell you enough how much that does our aching muscles. Which isn't even the cherry on top because we go sit around the fire with drinks after that! 

Faith and Robert

A great nights sleep and pancakes for breakfast, then we were off telling Faith and Robert goodbye. It was an amazing first experience with Warm Showers, finding amazing people in the places you expect the least.

---------------------------------------------

Kevin


We finally make it into South Dakota. It'd felt like we were in Iowa forever! It was our first long state, not to mention we did a lot of northward jogging through the state. It was a relief to have another state under our belt and it was starting to feel like we'd made it somewhere on our bikes as we approached the halfway point of the trip. Anyways, all that, not important. We'd decided to try our hand at warm showers again and after a short day rolled up to Kevin's place. We're greated with some amazing homemade salsa and incredible prison wine that Kevin enjoys making. We get some time to chillax on the couch and watch some Netflix (Kevin quickly gets us hooked on Wilfred). After a few (or a few fews) episodes of that we all go out for a quick game of disc golf. Anything of the bike seems like gold at this point in our ride, it's just nice to get on our feet and do some goofing off without wheels under us. Plus, I just love disc golf. All of this is followed by dinner and a little hike over in Nebraska! 

Nebraska! (We didn't bike there)

I know it's all common place stuff, but the incredible part about it all is that we'd never met Kevin before. He just opened up his home completely to us like all the Warm Showers people've done. Yeah, we don't do anything extrordinary at anyones house, but we do have a good time meeting new people and having new laughs. It's actually quite incredible and if you need a little faith in humanity this is a sure way to find it. 

------------------------------------------------

Jess

Jess welcomed us into her home even though she was supposed to have for other Warm Showers cyclists coming through PLUS a hosueful of kids. We did a solid 96 miles to end up in Rapid City that day. We rolled up to Jess's house to find 5 or 6 kids sitting around the outside patio and at first I couldn't even identify Jess because she looked just like one of the kids despite being around 40. She was wearing a tealish looking beanie over her hair, a loose fitting shirt, and some torn up jeans. Instantly you could tell she is a super hip person. She owns the bike shop in town and loves to do art, living a little more on the free spirited hippy side of life. Which is completely awesome. She introduced us to everyone, got us some beers, chatted it up, and then let us go take some showers. Once we got out we continued to chat it up because she is such an insanely interesitng person. I seriously loved some of her life philosophies and the things she was doing with the house she was in and all the kids. The whole place was like a safe haven, sheltered from the rest of the world. It was one of the most relaxed nights I've had on this trip. Jess made dinner for us and all the other kids as well. The other four Warm Showers cyclists didn't end up coming so it was just us there and it was just great. 

Jess

I can't emphasize enough the magic of just meeting someone and being welcomed into their home and their family. There is some special nugget of spirit inside those sorts of people that speaks to you and puts you comepletly at ease. There is nothing like meeting a stranger in this world. Nothing like it.

----------------------------------------------------

And those have been our three Warm showers experiences so far! In a nutshell of course. Each of these places we stayed went above and beyond the calling of the program and it speaks wonders for the type of people living the sort of lifestyle where they help complete strangers. Gotta say I love it!

Be happy everyone,

Beacon