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Saturday, June 27, 2015

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.

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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. 

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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. 




Wednesday, June 24, 2015

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.
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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.
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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.
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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

Sunday, June 21, 2015

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 

Friday, June 5, 2015

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.

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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.

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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. 



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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.

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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

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

New concept: Slack biking (slack winding? What do I call it?)

Alright y'all. Another new plan! I'm just gonna do short blog posts about short things... Go!
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On this particular morning Stumbles and I were riding out of Cedar Falls (I think it was falls) after spending the night at Doodles' house. Doodles is a friend of Stumbles' from the Appalachian trail. I'd never met the guy before, but he was awesome. Just having hiked the same 2,200ish miles automatically made us friends. Anyways, back to bike riding. We were riding our bikes out of town and directly into the wind. We've been doing this for days and weeks now as well as getting poured on the day before. After the 10 miles out of town we came to a quick decision, today was the day we were gonna try out slack biking. 

Us with Doodles

Here's where the concept comes from. Originally this is a hiking thing that came from our past hiking the Appalachian trial. What people would do is they would get a ride forward and then do the miles backwards. There are a few advantages to this. Sometimes it makes the terrain more favourable and most the time you leave your pack somewhere where you can pick it up once you arrive. That way you don't have to carry a heavy pack all day. That's the hiking version of it, but I tweaked it a bit for cycling. The plan was this: Hitchhike with out bikes 80 miles west and then ride with the wind at our backs for those 80 miles instead of with it in our faces. How lazy can we get? 

My professional hitchers thumb got the second truck passing by to pull over for us. I rolled over to his rolled down passenger window and quickly explained that we just wanted to ride with the wind. This was Dave (the first Dave, the second one is later) and Dave said to me "You lazy fucks. Put your bikes in the back." Turns out he is a super awesome adventurer who was big into train hopping back in the day. The ride was spent with him telling us of his adventures which turned out to be some of the coolest stories I've heard in a long long time. Go hobos.

It wasn't a problem whatsoever and riding back was one of the easiest days we've had. Other than the bridge that was out.... So we rode backwards to where we'd started the day off and stayed with Doodles again! And then we were out thumbing it again the next morning where second Dave picked us up with a reaction similar to first Dave's ("You lazy fucks"). But he enjoyed talking with us and gave us the hookup with a place to Stay in Sioux City a couple days in our future. Overall our slack wind plan was a great success I'd say! 

Trekking through what was once a bridge

Be happy everyone! 

Beacon

PS: This day, in Hoopeston Indiana, a small town newspaper starred us!


Cray