Well, it's been a little while since I've posted. I've been busy biking. I spent 20 straight days on the bike from Akron, PA, to Goshen, IN, in an effort to make up some lost miles, and blogging was not the first thing on my mind at the end of a long day. Generally I was looking forward to a shower or food. Anyway, now I'm in Goshen, I'm rested, and I'm working on trying to get my fill of familiar faces while I can. Anyway, I should talk about the last week and a half to catch you all up on my travels.
I believe I left off in Canastota, NY, while my mom was visiting and driving her U-Haul truck rental with my cycling gear in the back (By the way, you can hear about these few days in some detail from another perspective by visiting http://muchadoaboutnancy.wordpress.com/ where my mother, Nancy, wrote about these few days). Without all of the weight on my bike, I was a little more bold about varying from my GPS directions. I actually ended up just wandering in a general westerly direction. I didn't expect something called Turnpike Road to end up turning to gravel. Gravel may not quite be the right word for this road. It was about wide enough for one vehicle (probably not mom's U-Haul) and the "gravel" was a mix of rocks ranging from pea to golfball size. There were innumerable pot holes, most of which about 6-8" deep that I had to manuver around while riding on the lane of golfballs. The road curved around a couple of times, went up and down a little, and eventually went straight up, still covered in golfball rocks. I shifted into my lowest gear and pedaled hard but carefully, as my back tire was spinning at a much faster rate than I was moving, shooting golfball rocks back down the hill with every pedal stroke. It was quite a feat of balance to stay on my wheels the whole way up, and would have been absolutely impossible for me if the bags had still been attached to the bike. My slick road tires didn't really help much either. When the road eventually went back to pavement, there were some construction workers there that said nothing, but looked at me coming off of that road like I was out of my mind. From there I continued on to the town of Victor, NY, where mom and I got a hotel room for the night.
The next day I got on the road a little later than I generally like to, and it sort of came back to bite me. The wind picked up and fought me the whole way. After stopping for lunch and trying a local dish called beef on weck (a kind of bread), I eventually made it to a suburb of Buffalo to stay with John and Jean for the night. The headwind made it feel like a longer day than it actually was.
The next morning we got up and headed for Niagra Falls. During this stretch, I encountered one of the worst roads I've ever ridden on. Rather than repave it, their was layer after layer of repair that made nearly unbearable to ride on. On the crazy gravel road I could at least avoid the pot holes. Here the entire road surface was disgusting. I rattled my way to the falls and found mom's U-Haul to lock up my bike while we were tourists. Everyone has always told me that the view of the falls is so much better from the Canadian side of the falls. I mean, it's true. The Canadian side was also much more packed with tourists. I don't blame them for going to the Canadian side. It looked cooler, and U.S. customs can be a pain in the ass.
After pulling away from the falls, I made my way towards a couple of campgrounds I had found on the internet. One was KOA, which are generally pretty nice and moderately priced. When I got to the campgrounds, they were all in the $50/night ballpark. Which is ridiculous. I saw several little trashy motels with signs advertizing $35 per night, so I found one of those.
The next morning it was raining. There are few things more demotivating than stepping into the rain from a dry motel room. Most of the day it drizzled off and on until the early evening. The clear sky to the west was an incredible sight. About that time I was getting off the bike. I pulled into Tillsonburg, ON, looking for a campground that I believed was nearby. After a bit of looking at maps and whatnot, I pulled over and asked a group of men where the cheapest place to spend a night could be found, whether it be in a tent or otherwise. They gave me directions to another cheap motel, but also asked some questions about what I was doing on my bike. After mentioning Mennonite Disaster Service and handing them a card with my web address and name on it, they lit up a little bit and said, "Friesen? You're a Mennonite!" Apparently these men had grown up outside of Mexico City in a conservative Mennonite colony and now lived in Canada and used cars. I ended up in the cheap motel they suggested.
The next day it was raining again. Pretty exciting. This was just for part of the morning, then it warmed up and got humid, all the while with a headwind. Towards the end of the day I saw a sign for a campground that hadn't come up on my GPS, so I pulled off to look at my maps. As I looked, another cyclist (not touring) pulled up on a recumbent trike with a windshield and shell around it. He apparently also had mounted a small electric motor to assist as he pedals. It was quite the impressive rig. After a brief chat about cycling and my trip, he suggested this campground and not the one a little further down the road I had intended to ride to, as this one probably had more room. It was right on the coast of Lake Erie, so I ended up walking along a small beach to get my feet wet and cool down a little before showering.
The next morning my watch alarm went off at 6am, which was about the same time it started raining. It sounded like it was coming down pretty hard, so I decided to wait it out. Three hours later I put on my rain gear and packed my stuff up in the rain and was on the road at about 10am, just in time for the rain to subside. It wasn't a long day to get to Leamington, ON. A friend had given me contact information for Martin, who graciously offered me a place to rest for the night. I even got to tag along with his family to catch some bluegrass music in the park that evening.
The next day I made the quick ride from their place to the ferry that would take me back to the U.S. My hosts also rode the first ferry that took us all to Pelee Island, ON, where they have friends. I caught a few of the sights on the island, then got on the ferry that would take me to Sandusky, OH. U.S. customs was actually quite quick on a bicycle. They asked a few general questions and waved me thorugh. The vehicles coming across had a few more hoops to jump through. Upon landing, I booked it west as quickly as I could to cover some miles before they day ended. The ferry ride took until 3pm, so I didn't have very much time to ride that day.
I ended the day in Gibsonburg, OH, at a little campground on the south side of town. I think there was only one other campsite that was occupied for the night, so I made sure to chat with my neighbors a little before turning in for the night. They offered me some sweet corn they had prepared over the fire, still in the husk, and it was delicious. I chatted with the husband for a while while the others were inside the camper to get away from the bugs. After telling him a little about my trip, he shared that when he was 17, he decided he wanted to start walking. A few months later he called his mother and asked her to wire him some money. When she asked where to wire it, he said he was in Tampa, FL (from Ohio, I believe...). He also shared some stories about a particularly adventurous nephew of his that had done some traveling abroad, and upon returning to the states, lived for a few months with a community of people that live in tree houses in the red woods in California to protect them from being cut down. He insisted that I try to find the tree people when I get to California. I assured him that I'd try.
The following morning I got on the road and headed the 95 miles to my friend Lowell's place in Michigan. It was an incredibly easy day. There was very little breeze and it didn't feel too hot out either. It helped that I got a relatively early start. I stopped for a break in Archbold, OH, and got interviewed by the Fulton County Expositor news paper. That break was a little longer than I had hoped for, and by the time I got back on the bike, my legs weren't too excited about biking the last 30 miles. Once I got warmed up, things went by fairly quickly. Once at Lowell's house, we chatted for a while, ate a giant amount of pasta (ok, so I ate a giant amount of pasta), and watched some TV before heading to bed. The next day I woke up a little late, because I thought I was going to have a shorter day getting to Goshen, IN. It was a little shorter in milage than I had been averaging, but there was a pretty stiff headwind and some ominous clounds looming in the west. The storm was moving in from the northwest, and I was really pushing hard to try to beat it to Goshen. I made it past a particularly nasty looking cloud with some cloud-to-ground lightning completely dry and not electrified, but behind it was another. I was pushing hard to get to my destination, but 7 miles from town the skies opened up and giant rain drops started to fall. I wasn't too excited about pushing through the rain, and I saw a barn with the doors wide open. As I passed, I saw movement inside, so I decided to ask if I could seek shelter for a bit while the worst of it blew past. Upon arriving at the barn, I found 4 small Amish children. I asked of I could wheel my bike inside, and they said I could. They didn't really say much else. I tried to ask some innocent, open-ended questions about the weather and how their day was going, but they didn't really want to speak much more than one word responses from the eldest boy among them. They just kind of looked at me as though they were unsure what I was-possibly not even human. Eventually their father, Marlin, came to the barn through the rain. He was a little surprised to see me there, but had no problem with me taking shelter. He was eventually heading out to collect eggs with the children. While watching the huge rain drops fall, Marlin and I chatted about farming, the weather, the economy, Amish/Old-order/Mennonite differences, last names, and whatever else came up. The children continued to look at me, puzzled. They did find my GPS to be fascinating. Marlin told me of a couple of Amish guys that had taking bike a bike trip a few years earlier from their area out to Colorado and back. In this area as well as the Akron, PA, area, I saw lots of Amish people on bicycles.
After the rain eased up, I thanked Marlin for his brief hospitality and headed on my way towards Goshen. My friend Josiah told me I could crash at his place, even though he was not there. He is actually spending the week riding his bicycle across Iowa as a part of RAGBRAI. Apparently he did not tell his brother that I was going to be coming to the house. I showed up and he looked a little puzzled. I unloaded my stuff and headed straight for the shower.
It's been a relaxing two days off the bike here in Goshen. I counted that I had been on the bike 20 days straight, from Akron, PA, to here. A couple of those days were shorter, but it still meant putting on the cycling gear and pedaling. Tomorrow I will head towards Chicago and towards another rainstorm on the radar map. We'll see how far I get, but I should at least cross into the Central Time Zone. At that point, I will be done with the Easter Time Zone for the duration of the trip. That's right, one time zone down, three to go. Also, the state of Indiana makes 25 states down (plus Ontario and Washington DC) and 23 states to go. Unfortunately the 23 states I have left are all huge and I have 2/3 of the miles to go. I will try to update the blog a little more frequently.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Lobster, the Green Mountains, and beyond
All in all, my stay in Nashua, NH, was pretty uneventful. I got to bed too late, so I woke up a little later than expected, but I had already decided that I was stopping at the beach in Maine, so it wasn't going to be a long day. After a crappy bagel sandwich from Dunkin Doughnuts, I pedaled off. My mileage for the day was going to be somewhere in the 60s, so I made sure to get more than half knocked off before I got off the seat for a break. The little convenience store I stopped at was not a busy place. The woman working at the counter asked about the trip and offered me a slice of very greasy pizza while we talked. It accented the Dunkin Doughnuts breakfast quite well.
I saddled back up and pushed on towards my final Atlantic coast state. When I got across the bridge that brought me into Maine, a man that had been out for a run stopped to chat. Apparently this man, Tim, had ridden across the country in 1975. That was before it was the cool thing to do. We chatted for a while, and he took my picture by the sign announcing my entry into Maine. The man even offered me a place to crash for the night if I was interested, but I had been pretty set on the idea of camping on or near the beach, so I declined.
Everyone I met that heard I was going to Maine said I needed to eat lobster when I was there. Tim pointed out a place called The Hebert Brothers Seafood and said it was the best place around, and probably the best price, too. I walked in and told the man at the register that I had never been to Maine and I had never had lobster. I'm pretty sure they cut me a pretty good deal, but we don't need to discuss numbers. I got a bowl of chowder, a big pile of steamed clams, and two lobsters. Holy crap, that was a lot of food. The guy even showed me how to eat all of it. This guy ended up being one of the Hebert Brothers (namesake of the restaurant), and the other brother had been in and out a bit too. Seriously, the food was excellent, I saw them pull the lobsters out of the tank, and they were just all around great guys. As I was on my way out the door, they came outside and we got a picture, the two brothers and I, in front of the restaurant (I keep promising pictures, but that takes a while on my little computer! I promise they're coming!).
From the Hebert Brothers, I went on (slowed a bit by the seafood filling my stomach) to York, ME. I knew that the campground my GPS was directing me to was right on the beach, so I was going to see the Atlantic (which I had already swam in while in Delaware), but when I came over the last rise and was face to face with the Atlantic Ocean, knowing that the next morning I would no longer be heading in a northeasterly direction, but turning west, felt strange. On the rare occasion that people would shout to me while I biked past, "Where you headed?", and I didn't have time to explain where all I was headed, I would just say, "Maine" so we could both go on with our lives. I suppose now I'll have to answer, "the Pacific" when that happens.
The campground was beautiful. From my tent I could have thrown a rock and hit the ocean. I mean, I'd have to be warmed up, but you get the idea. Pretty close. Other sites at this campground were literally feet from the water, like if they threw their rock and tripped, they'd fall in the ocean themselves.
As I was setting up camp, a woman named Ann came wandering by. We exchanged pleasantries, and she asked where I was coming from. I ended up at her campsite enjoying a cold beverage and talking about traveling. Eventually we went out to supper, where I enjoyed another part of the local cuisine: Haddock. I used to hate fish, but I think that was when the only fish I had ever had was from a box and in the form of a stick. The restaurant was pretty cool, too. The lobster tanks were right where you stand in line to order, and you can reach in and pick one up if you want.
The next morning I departed from the beach on my first day headed west. One thing that always rough about leaving the beach on a bicycle is that everything is uphill from there. The first day of climbing away from the beach was pretty mild. As I was meandering through the woods of southern New Hampshire, I happened upon a fellow touring cyclist. This was pretty exciting, considering I have cycled well over 2000 miles without seeing any other bikes with bags on them. Katrin is a German school teacher, who was using her 6 week summer vacation to tour around the northeastern U.S. She flew into Boston and was just kind of riding wherever she felt like going. I rode with her for a few miles, but she stopped at a campground a few miles before I intended to call it a day.
I pressed on to the Oxbow Campground in Hillsborough, New Hampshire. I was pretty shocked to find that they only had one site available upon my arrival, but it worked out well for me. They had a small spring-fed pond with a small beach on it, so I went for a dip. While enjoying the cool spring waters, I ended up talking with Eric and Leann about my travels. They, like the crystal ladies, gave a little towards the "help feed Neal" fund. I'm amazed at how freely some people have handed me cash to support me in my journey before even hearing that the ride is intended to raise money/awareness/whatever for Mennonite Disaster Service. I have seen how the recent economic condition has affected many of these places, and how it isn't getting too much better for some people, yet when people hear about me voluntarily leaving my job, choosing to be unemployed and travel around on my bicycle, they take cash out of their pockets and hand it to me. Eric and Leann told me to think of them as I enjoyed a nice big burger with their money. I'm certainly not getting rich or even breaking even off of the money people have handed me, instructing me to go have a nice meal, but I hope people are also throwing some money in the direction of MDS. When I passed through there a couple weeks ago, I think a little over $1400 had come in. I don't really know how to set a fund raising goal for this trip, but I think that sounds like some pretty good money so far.
When I left Oxbow Campground, I knew I had a heck of a day ahead of me. Everyone kept telling me that Hogback Mountain was coming up, and that it was going to be a heck of a climb. Along my route, Hogback basically started my travels through the Green Mountains of Vermont. Just before Hogback, I took a long lunch break in Brattleboro, Vermont, outside of a grocery store. I just sat, enjoying the shade, and made small talk with passersby and employees coming out for a smoke. Out of curiosity, I checked the weather in Wilmington, Vermont, (my intended destination for the day) and it was almost 10 degrees cooler there. Since it was a hot day, that was motivation to get to the top. I jumped on the bike and headed out of town. The climb started gradual, but consistently up. Eventually it got steeper, with a few switchbacks that allowed for a brief break from the climb. Near the top, there was a brief descent before the final ascent to the peak of my journey for the day. When I reached this first, lower peak, a storm cloud seemed to appear out of nothing. As I made this short and steep descent towards the final climb of the day, giant raindrops pelted me. As the drops stung my face and arms, I thought back to the good ol' days on the farm, and how much it sucked to get caught out on the 4-wheeler in the rain. At this point in the day, however, I had just climbed 1600 feet without getting off of my bike and I was dead set on getting to the top of that mountain, rain or shine. I'm glad that nobody was within earshot except a few cars, who obviously didn't have their windows down. If anyone would have heard me during this part of the trip, they would have thought I was out of my mind. I would compare my behavior to that of Lieutenant Dan in the movie Forrest Gump when they're out on the shrimping boat in the storm, you know, where Lt. Dan is on top of the mast, yelling at God and the storm and laughing. I don't think I was yelling and laughing at God so much as just the storm. I was dead set on making it to the top of that nearly 2000 foot climb without getting off of my saddle. The intensity and momentum that I had gained from that brief storm was stripped by the anticlimactic dissipation of the storm and my chain slipping off. I got off the bike, put the chain back on, and pedaled the last couple hundred feet of vertical.
When I reached the top, there was a small gift shop where about 30 motorcycles had stopped, all of which had passed me going up that long climb. They were all preparing to pull out, but as they saw me approaching the summit, several of them started cheering me on. A couple of them seemed impressed with the climb, and then thought I was completely out of my mind when I told them I started in Louisiana. At the gift shop I enjoyed some ice cream and the spectacular view before descending to Wilmington, Vermont, which is apparently somewhat of a ski town in the winter.
Luckily, the first two places I stopped in search of lodging were full. The third place I stopped was the Old Red Mill Inn, and it proved to be a great place to stop. The room was very small, but it was a cozy kind of small. I mean, anything bigger than my tent is living the high life for me. On the main floor they had a restaurant that seemed to be their primary source of income. It was a fantastic little place. The bar area was open to the outside, and they had space heaters hanging from the ceiling for spring and fall patrons. I settled up to a bar stool in search of a bite to eat, and ended up sitting next to Katherine and Miller. Katherine didn't stay too long, as she had a concert to get to, but Miller and I talked for a while. Apparently he had a minor bicycle accident earlier in the day and ended up with some stitches in his elbow and a jammed shoulder. Miller ended up covering my meal and providing great company for the duration of the evening.
The next morning a journalist from the local paper came to the hotel to get a picture and ask me a few questions about what I was doing. It pushed my start time back a little, but it's good publicity for MDS and the ride.
Coming out of Wilmington, there was one pretty steep but relatively short ascent to start things off, but after that it was mostly down hill. There was actually one very long down hill, but it was stripped of some of its entertainment value because of the headwind. It was an 8% grade for more than 3 miles. I'm pretty sure it was an 8% grade in Virginia or Kentucky that got me my current speed record of 49.5, but on this fairly windy day, I was holding steady in the mid 30s the whole way down. After things started to level out, I came across another touring cyclist at a gas station. He was on his way from Oregon to Maine, and had even taken time to ride B.R.A.N. (Bike Ride Across Nebraska) when he got to the plains. We ended up chatting for nearly 2 hours in this gas station. Our conversation moved around from cycling to philosophy/theology to science and eventually to some of the reasons for taking a long solo bicycle trip. He asked me why I'm doing this, and wanted a better answer than, "For MDS" or "I felt like it". I know that a better answer to the question, "why" is out there, behind this journey, but I haven't really found it yet. I've got a couple different answers I tell people, but I'm still trying to figure out why I'm out here. Paul, not a particularly religious man, said that maybe there were a few people along the way that he was supposed to meet. One of those people that he had encountered, a man in his mid 70's, told him, "That's what's wrong with people, they're afraid to try things." Not an incredibly profound statement on it's own, but in the context of the conversation Paul and I were having, I believe it caused us both to pause for a moment. The conversation encompassed much more, but that's not for this blog. He's helped me formulate a few questions I should try to answer over the next few thousand miles.
A little ways down the road I came across a couple of Surly LHT's (same model as my own ride of choice) parked outside of a McDonald's. It was a father/son duo that was working on finishing a two month ride from Oregon to Maine. It's nice to see other touring cyclists up north after such a drought of them through the south and east.
At about the time I met these two cyclists, my mother called me. She had just landed in Albany, NY, with the intention of renting a car to come drive with me for a couple of days towards the Niagra Falls. Apparently Albany (yes, the whole city) had no cars to be rented. They were all out because of the horse races in Saratoga. I ended up finishing for the day in a small town called Amsterdam, NY, so mom caught a bus to come there. I asked the guy at the hotel desk where the bus station was. He remembered me as the cyclist, and asked how my mother was going to get from there to here. When I had no answer, he gave me the keys to his truck and said I could use it to pick her up.
This morning I got up, got packed, and hit the road on my bike. My mom still didn't have a way of getting out of there, but she said she'd work on it. A couple hours later, she pulled up beside me in a U-Haul truck. I couldn't help but laugh. Apparently renting a U-Haul is cheaper than renting a car by a considerable amount. That's one of those things that I'm going to have to remember. After lunch (and a bit of a rain delay) I threw my bags in the back of the truck and rode on without them. It actually felt like someone was pushing me after I got rid of the bags. It was amazing to feel how quickly I move with each pedal stroke after ditching all of the gear. A headwind did pick up, and it reminded me that the plains states are coming, and they're not that much easier than the mountains. No amount of climbing can prepare you for a headwind, and no amount of headwind can train you for climbing. The particularly irritating thing about a headwind is that you can't even psychologically prepare for it. I know when I'm going to hit a mountain range. Wind is one of those things you find out after you're in the saddle.
At this pace, I think we will get to Niagra Falls in two days, at which point I will cross into Canada for a couple of days. Hopefully everything stays working and I can keep making up the ground that I was behind. By the way, in the last 7 days, I've covered 568.4 miles, including crossing the Green Mountains. Forgive me for not blogging sooner, I've been busy. Again, have patience on the pictures. Right now I need sleep, so you all have to wait on those a little longer.
I saddled back up and pushed on towards my final Atlantic coast state. When I got across the bridge that brought me into Maine, a man that had been out for a run stopped to chat. Apparently this man, Tim, had ridden across the country in 1975. That was before it was the cool thing to do. We chatted for a while, and he took my picture by the sign announcing my entry into Maine. The man even offered me a place to crash for the night if I was interested, but I had been pretty set on the idea of camping on or near the beach, so I declined.
Everyone I met that heard I was going to Maine said I needed to eat lobster when I was there. Tim pointed out a place called The Hebert Brothers Seafood and said it was the best place around, and probably the best price, too. I walked in and told the man at the register that I had never been to Maine and I had never had lobster. I'm pretty sure they cut me a pretty good deal, but we don't need to discuss numbers. I got a bowl of chowder, a big pile of steamed clams, and two lobsters. Holy crap, that was a lot of food. The guy even showed me how to eat all of it. This guy ended up being one of the Hebert Brothers (namesake of the restaurant), and the other brother had been in and out a bit too. Seriously, the food was excellent, I saw them pull the lobsters out of the tank, and they were just all around great guys. As I was on my way out the door, they came outside and we got a picture, the two brothers and I, in front of the restaurant (I keep promising pictures, but that takes a while on my little computer! I promise they're coming!).
From the Hebert Brothers, I went on (slowed a bit by the seafood filling my stomach) to York, ME. I knew that the campground my GPS was directing me to was right on the beach, so I was going to see the Atlantic (which I had already swam in while in Delaware), but when I came over the last rise and was face to face with the Atlantic Ocean, knowing that the next morning I would no longer be heading in a northeasterly direction, but turning west, felt strange. On the rare occasion that people would shout to me while I biked past, "Where you headed?", and I didn't have time to explain where all I was headed, I would just say, "Maine" so we could both go on with our lives. I suppose now I'll have to answer, "the Pacific" when that happens.
The campground was beautiful. From my tent I could have thrown a rock and hit the ocean. I mean, I'd have to be warmed up, but you get the idea. Pretty close. Other sites at this campground were literally feet from the water, like if they threw their rock and tripped, they'd fall in the ocean themselves.
As I was setting up camp, a woman named Ann came wandering by. We exchanged pleasantries, and she asked where I was coming from. I ended up at her campsite enjoying a cold beverage and talking about traveling. Eventually we went out to supper, where I enjoyed another part of the local cuisine: Haddock. I used to hate fish, but I think that was when the only fish I had ever had was from a box and in the form of a stick. The restaurant was pretty cool, too. The lobster tanks were right where you stand in line to order, and you can reach in and pick one up if you want.
The next morning I departed from the beach on my first day headed west. One thing that always rough about leaving the beach on a bicycle is that everything is uphill from there. The first day of climbing away from the beach was pretty mild. As I was meandering through the woods of southern New Hampshire, I happened upon a fellow touring cyclist. This was pretty exciting, considering I have cycled well over 2000 miles without seeing any other bikes with bags on them. Katrin is a German school teacher, who was using her 6 week summer vacation to tour around the northeastern U.S. She flew into Boston and was just kind of riding wherever she felt like going. I rode with her for a few miles, but she stopped at a campground a few miles before I intended to call it a day.
I pressed on to the Oxbow Campground in Hillsborough, New Hampshire. I was pretty shocked to find that they only had one site available upon my arrival, but it worked out well for me. They had a small spring-fed pond with a small beach on it, so I went for a dip. While enjoying the cool spring waters, I ended up talking with Eric and Leann about my travels. They, like the crystal ladies, gave a little towards the "help feed Neal" fund. I'm amazed at how freely some people have handed me cash to support me in my journey before even hearing that the ride is intended to raise money/awareness/whatever for Mennonite Disaster Service. I have seen how the recent economic condition has affected many of these places, and how it isn't getting too much better for some people, yet when people hear about me voluntarily leaving my job, choosing to be unemployed and travel around on my bicycle, they take cash out of their pockets and hand it to me. Eric and Leann told me to think of them as I enjoyed a nice big burger with their money. I'm certainly not getting rich or even breaking even off of the money people have handed me, instructing me to go have a nice meal, but I hope people are also throwing some money in the direction of MDS. When I passed through there a couple weeks ago, I think a little over $1400 had come in. I don't really know how to set a fund raising goal for this trip, but I think that sounds like some pretty good money so far.
When I left Oxbow Campground, I knew I had a heck of a day ahead of me. Everyone kept telling me that Hogback Mountain was coming up, and that it was going to be a heck of a climb. Along my route, Hogback basically started my travels through the Green Mountains of Vermont. Just before Hogback, I took a long lunch break in Brattleboro, Vermont, outside of a grocery store. I just sat, enjoying the shade, and made small talk with passersby and employees coming out for a smoke. Out of curiosity, I checked the weather in Wilmington, Vermont, (my intended destination for the day) and it was almost 10 degrees cooler there. Since it was a hot day, that was motivation to get to the top. I jumped on the bike and headed out of town. The climb started gradual, but consistently up. Eventually it got steeper, with a few switchbacks that allowed for a brief break from the climb. Near the top, there was a brief descent before the final ascent to the peak of my journey for the day. When I reached this first, lower peak, a storm cloud seemed to appear out of nothing. As I made this short and steep descent towards the final climb of the day, giant raindrops pelted me. As the drops stung my face and arms, I thought back to the good ol' days on the farm, and how much it sucked to get caught out on the 4-wheeler in the rain. At this point in the day, however, I had just climbed 1600 feet without getting off of my bike and I was dead set on getting to the top of that mountain, rain or shine. I'm glad that nobody was within earshot except a few cars, who obviously didn't have their windows down. If anyone would have heard me during this part of the trip, they would have thought I was out of my mind. I would compare my behavior to that of Lieutenant Dan in the movie Forrest Gump when they're out on the shrimping boat in the storm, you know, where Lt. Dan is on top of the mast, yelling at God and the storm and laughing. I don't think I was yelling and laughing at God so much as just the storm. I was dead set on making it to the top of that nearly 2000 foot climb without getting off of my saddle. The intensity and momentum that I had gained from that brief storm was stripped by the anticlimactic dissipation of the storm and my chain slipping off. I got off the bike, put the chain back on, and pedaled the last couple hundred feet of vertical.
When I reached the top, there was a small gift shop where about 30 motorcycles had stopped, all of which had passed me going up that long climb. They were all preparing to pull out, but as they saw me approaching the summit, several of them started cheering me on. A couple of them seemed impressed with the climb, and then thought I was completely out of my mind when I told them I started in Louisiana. At the gift shop I enjoyed some ice cream and the spectacular view before descending to Wilmington, Vermont, which is apparently somewhat of a ski town in the winter.
Luckily, the first two places I stopped in search of lodging were full. The third place I stopped was the Old Red Mill Inn, and it proved to be a great place to stop. The room was very small, but it was a cozy kind of small. I mean, anything bigger than my tent is living the high life for me. On the main floor they had a restaurant that seemed to be their primary source of income. It was a fantastic little place. The bar area was open to the outside, and they had space heaters hanging from the ceiling for spring and fall patrons. I settled up to a bar stool in search of a bite to eat, and ended up sitting next to Katherine and Miller. Katherine didn't stay too long, as she had a concert to get to, but Miller and I talked for a while. Apparently he had a minor bicycle accident earlier in the day and ended up with some stitches in his elbow and a jammed shoulder. Miller ended up covering my meal and providing great company for the duration of the evening.
The next morning a journalist from the local paper came to the hotel to get a picture and ask me a few questions about what I was doing. It pushed my start time back a little, but it's good publicity for MDS and the ride.
Coming out of Wilmington, there was one pretty steep but relatively short ascent to start things off, but after that it was mostly down hill. There was actually one very long down hill, but it was stripped of some of its entertainment value because of the headwind. It was an 8% grade for more than 3 miles. I'm pretty sure it was an 8% grade in Virginia or Kentucky that got me my current speed record of 49.5, but on this fairly windy day, I was holding steady in the mid 30s the whole way down. After things started to level out, I came across another touring cyclist at a gas station. He was on his way from Oregon to Maine, and had even taken time to ride B.R.A.N. (Bike Ride Across Nebraska) when he got to the plains. We ended up chatting for nearly 2 hours in this gas station. Our conversation moved around from cycling to philosophy/theology to science and eventually to some of the reasons for taking a long solo bicycle trip. He asked me why I'm doing this, and wanted a better answer than, "For MDS" or "I felt like it". I know that a better answer to the question, "why" is out there, behind this journey, but I haven't really found it yet. I've got a couple different answers I tell people, but I'm still trying to figure out why I'm out here. Paul, not a particularly religious man, said that maybe there were a few people along the way that he was supposed to meet. One of those people that he had encountered, a man in his mid 70's, told him, "That's what's wrong with people, they're afraid to try things." Not an incredibly profound statement on it's own, but in the context of the conversation Paul and I were having, I believe it caused us both to pause for a moment. The conversation encompassed much more, but that's not for this blog. He's helped me formulate a few questions I should try to answer over the next few thousand miles.
A little ways down the road I came across a couple of Surly LHT's (same model as my own ride of choice) parked outside of a McDonald's. It was a father/son duo that was working on finishing a two month ride from Oregon to Maine. It's nice to see other touring cyclists up north after such a drought of them through the south and east.
At about the time I met these two cyclists, my mother called me. She had just landed in Albany, NY, with the intention of renting a car to come drive with me for a couple of days towards the Niagra Falls. Apparently Albany (yes, the whole city) had no cars to be rented. They were all out because of the horse races in Saratoga. I ended up finishing for the day in a small town called Amsterdam, NY, so mom caught a bus to come there. I asked the guy at the hotel desk where the bus station was. He remembered me as the cyclist, and asked how my mother was going to get from there to here. When I had no answer, he gave me the keys to his truck and said I could use it to pick her up.
This morning I got up, got packed, and hit the road on my bike. My mom still didn't have a way of getting out of there, but she said she'd work on it. A couple hours later, she pulled up beside me in a U-Haul truck. I couldn't help but laugh. Apparently renting a U-Haul is cheaper than renting a car by a considerable amount. That's one of those things that I'm going to have to remember. After lunch (and a bit of a rain delay) I threw my bags in the back of the truck and rode on without them. It actually felt like someone was pushing me after I got rid of the bags. It was amazing to feel how quickly I move with each pedal stroke after ditching all of the gear. A headwind did pick up, and it reminded me that the plains states are coming, and they're not that much easier than the mountains. No amount of climbing can prepare you for a headwind, and no amount of headwind can train you for climbing. The particularly irritating thing about a headwind is that you can't even psychologically prepare for it. I know when I'm going to hit a mountain range. Wind is one of those things you find out after you're in the saddle.
At this pace, I think we will get to Niagra Falls in two days, at which point I will cross into Canada for a couple of days. Hopefully everything stays working and I can keep making up the ground that I was behind. By the way, in the last 7 days, I've covered 568.4 miles, including crossing the Green Mountains. Forgive me for not blogging sooner, I've been busy. Again, have patience on the pictures. Right now I need sleep, so you all have to wait on those a little longer.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I've hit 20 states!
Well, I left the last post in Middletown, NY. That morning I got up to continue my trek east, and it was clear and sunny. For a while. It was very strange. The sun was out and shining, then I passed through a wooded area that was less than a mile long, and when I came out on the other side, I think the visibility was less than a half mile due to very thick fog. It stayed like that the whole way through this river valley that I was following. I hate riding in fog. I can't wear my glasses or sunglasses because they fog up instantly and stay that way, visibility is low so I'm paranoid, and humidity is at 100%, so I am soaked in minutes with perspiration.
As I was following this river valley, I came around a corner and saw a deer standing in the middle of the road. I was able to snap a picture of it before a car came by and scared it away (sorry, pictures to come later, crunched for time). As I pedaled past where the deer had been standing, I looked to my right where the deer had bounded up the hill, and it was still standing there, maybe 40ft away. I stopped, got out my camera, and the thing just kept looking at me. There was a small tree in it's line of sight, so it kept bobbing it's head back and forth around the tree to figure out what the heck I was doing. I got a couple more pictures of the thing, all the while thinking about how I need to get a hunting license in the state of New York if this is how the deer behave.
As I continued on, the terrain just continued to roll up and down all day. None of the hills are worth mentioning on their own, but collectively they were enough to basically demoralize me at how slow my pace was going, and I didn't even have any mountains to blame.
Eventually I crossed into Connecticut, but I hadn't planned ahead very well as to where I would rest for the night. There were not any campgrounds nearby (down south there were RV campgrounds EVERYWHERE), and my GPS was only showing me a couple of bed and breakfasts in the area (which are generally out of my price range). I went to one of the bed and breakfasts to just test the waters, and the woman at the counter said that their nightly rate was $359. That's dumb. I asked if she knew of any more modestly priced lodging available, and she suggested that I call a woman named Marie that lived down the street. Apparently Salisbury, CT, is very close to the Appalachian trail (which I think I've crossed 5 times now), and Marie likes to host hikers for a small fee. Marie is an older woman from northern Italy that loves company. She seems to be loving life, but wishes she were 20 years younger so she could host hikers for another 20 years. This woman is fantastic. I got there and she showed me right in to my room, gave me a cold drink, and said that she was taking a couple of hikers to the laundromat a little later and offered me a ride as well. While our laundry was in, we ate pizza at this awesome little place that was basically connected to the laundromat and chatted about the Appalachian Trail and cycling. Marie hosts so many hikers throughout the season that she wouldn't cook for them, but she said each of us could have 3 eggs, a bagel, a banana, and a glass of orange juice in the morning. She sleeps in. I couldn't have asked for better lodging. Even if the ridiculously overpriced bed and breakfast would have let me stay there for free, I believe Marie's place trumps it.
The next morning I got up a little later than I wanted, but the bed was just too comfortable. I made myself breakfast and chatted with one of the two hikers that had also spent the night. Sidenote: apparently hikers on the A.T. have nicknames they go by. All of them. Cheese and Sticker were the two that stayed at Marie's place that night. Anyway, Sticker was up early with me and he had done some touring himself in the past, so we talked about gear and miles and how much climbing sucks.
When I pulled out of the driveway, I was feeling pretty good. As I rolled on for the day, miles were adding up quickly and I was making good time. Then sometime near 11:00am I hit a little snag. I was just riding along, minding my own business, staying as far right as I deem safe out of respect for the very light traffic on that particular road. The grass in the ditch was pretty tall and had been brushing my right leg most of the morning, but that wasn't a problem. It became a problem when I was glancing down at my map (on top of my handlebar bag) and the grass camouflaged the start of a guard rail. Since I was so far to the right, the guard rail went between my right front bag and my front wheel. This, of course, stopped my bicycle very quickly. I, however, did not stop, and over the handlebars I went. It all happened quite quickly, so I don't know exactly how I managed to get a hand down and sort of turn myself and end up in a seated position looking back at my bike. Somewhere in the process my left knee hit the ground, so now it looks like it's trying to digest a racquetball. That was my only injury, and it's pretty minor. It hasn't had an impact on the riding. My bike is also fine, but the front rack is quite bent. It is functional at the moment, but I should really find a way of getting it bent back into shape. Now if I hit big bumps, my right front bag sort of swings in and rubs my spokes a little, but normal riding is fine. I should also mention, that the first thing I saw when I landed from my trip over the bars was a white car that was close enough that the driver had to have seen me wreck. The jerk didn't even slow down, she just drove right around me and kept on her merry way. As I dusted myself off and wheeled my bike a little further down the road to a safer place to check for damages, I could only think of how mad I was at that person for not stopping. Granted, I ended up walking away, but what if I had been injured or my bike was rendered unrideable? It would have been nice for her to at least shout out the window, "You ok?"
At this point, I realized my day wasn't going to be as long as I had hoped. I adjusted my fender so it wasn't rubbing on the tire and started looking at the route ahead for lodging and a bike shop (with the aid of my sister and her internet connection). I ended up pedaling on without making any major decisions.
I got to the town of Ellington, CT, and figured I should look for a place to crash for the night (Ha, crash. Get it? Whatever). I pulled over and sought aid from my sister and her internet again, and this time I thought I was just on the sidewalk in a residential area, but I was in front of a small business called Thistle Glass Crafts. "Crystals, Minerals, Stone Jewelry, Herbal Products, Books, Labyrinth, Reiki Energy Sessions" is what it says on their business card. I don't know how else to tell you what kind of shop this was. One of the two women in the store came out to see if everything was ok and offered me air conditioning. I took her up on the offer. While we were inside, I told them about the whole trip and why I'm doing it. They got out a box with some rocks in it and told me I should take one. They said that they have healing properties. They also gave me a bar of soap that one of them made. It's the old fashioned stuff made with lye. When they told me that, my mind immediately went to the movie Fight Club, but I thought it inappropriate to bring up. As I was leaving they offered to fill my water bottles, but they didn't do it at the shop. They said that the well water at their house was better. I do have to say that it was a lot better than most of the city water I have drank along the way. While the one was getting the water, the other asked if I was taking donations. I told her that I was encouraging people to donate through the website, as that goes straight to MDS, thus simplifying everything. She said they'd go to the website, but made a cash donation to the "help feed Neal" fund. Now, I don't know what exactly to think about the healing power of rocks or Reiki energy stuff, but I definitely will not forget the generosity and eagerness to help that these two women exuded.
We're supposed to love our neighbor as ourselves. Who was my neighbor today? Certainly not the woman that passed by on the other side of the road. We didn't talk at length about beliefs, but I'm guessing the two women in the crystal shop and I don't have a whole lot in common spiritually, but honestly, who was my neighbor?
From their little shop, I headed up. It was a bit of a climb (for Connecticut standards) to get to Stafford Springs, where I stopped for a pizza. When I left the restaurant, it was raining. I climbed another 600ft or so in the next 6 miles to the top of the ridge and wheeled in to the Ashford Motel. There were flash flood watches for the whole area, so camping seemed like a bad idea.
When I got up this morning, my stuff was still wet, including my shoes. I had dry cycling gear to wear, of course, but putting on wet shoes in the morning just isn't fun. When I got out the door, it was still drizzling, so the rest of me got wet anyway. It was hard to get motivated out of the hotel room, especially with the rain. I continued through Connecticut, up in to Massachusets, back into Connecticut, into Rhode Island, back north into Massachusets, and eventually to the town of Westborough, MA. It had been a pretty hilly and very wet morning, and I was ready for some real food, which I hadn't really had any of yet. I pulled up to the first people I saw outside and asked them where a good local place to eat would be, and they pointed me to the building they just came out of: The South Street Diner. I pulled up to the bar to order a burger and some coffee (being wet and in the air conditioning, a hot beverage sounded great), and a guy behind the counter asked where I was coming from. Of course, I got to talking about the trip again (I hope I don't sound rehearsed by now). When I was about done eating, my waitress told me that the man I had been talking to was the owner, and that my lunch was on the house. Soon thereafter, he came by and told me that a guy from the newspaper was on his way over to take a picture and ask me a few questions. We went through the whole interview business and I got on the road. I looked at my maps when I was inside and had decided to stop at a campground about 20 miles away. Once I got to riding, things were just going too well to stop at that campground. The terrain had flattened out, my stomach had real food in it, and it was overcast but not raining. I decided to keep on going. Eventually I stumbled across this trail that had formerly been a railway. These are like gold for a cyclist. Trains can't go on anything steeper than 3% grade. This trail was very nicely paved and absolutely flat, maybe even a little downhill. I hit that trail and I was moving. I kept looking down at my GPS for updates on my speed, and I think I was rolling about 20 for my entire time on that trail. I ended up missing my turn, but I didn't really care, I just kept going because it was so gratifying to be covering so much ground. The trail ended up dumping me out in Nashua, NH, not very far from a Motel 6. I figured that since I had touched 4 states with my bike that day and that I was probably over 100 miles for the day, I could go for another hotel room.
As I rode, I reflected on how my travels have gone thus far, and what seemed to make the difference between a good day and a crappy day, or even a good hour from a bad hour. I think I'm an extrovert to the core. I'm not saying I'm always the most outgoing person, but an extrovert in the sense that I get energy from being around people and having positive interactions with people. The morning after staying with Maria and the A.T. hikers I was buzzing up and down the hills I was cursing the day before. After speaking with the crystal women I climbed another 1000 feet, half of which in the rain, and I was smiling when I got to the top. I had a rough morning going through Connecticut and Rhode Island, but when I stopped for lunch and enjoyed the hospitality of The South Street Diner I proceeded to rock out another 50 miles and get to another state. I can certainly see the strength and weakness in this. Right now I'm alone in a Motel 6, about to set out towards Maine, and I'm having a hard time motivating myself to just get out the door. But once I'm on my bike, things get a little better, and if I get a chance to interact with some random stranger along the road, even better. Now I just need to figure out how to overcome the weakness and utilize the strength in what I'm learning about how I operate. I know my body can do this, I just need to get my mental game in order.
Now I am heading to Maine. I intend to camp on the beach. I don't really care where, but I want to be on the beach. It should be a shorter day. This will be a pretty big landmark for the trip, as I will transition from a northeasterly trajectory to straight west. I'm not exactly sure how I'm getting through New Hampshire and Vermont en route to the Great Lakes, but it's looking like it's going to be some rough going no matter where I go. Oh, and I'll cross the Appalachian trail for the 6th time when I turn back west.
I didn't have as much time as I hoped for. I thought it was more important to write another entry than to upload pictures. I promise I'll get some up here soon.
As I was following this river valley, I came around a corner and saw a deer standing in the middle of the road. I was able to snap a picture of it before a car came by and scared it away (sorry, pictures to come later, crunched for time). As I pedaled past where the deer had been standing, I looked to my right where the deer had bounded up the hill, and it was still standing there, maybe 40ft away. I stopped, got out my camera, and the thing just kept looking at me. There was a small tree in it's line of sight, so it kept bobbing it's head back and forth around the tree to figure out what the heck I was doing. I got a couple more pictures of the thing, all the while thinking about how I need to get a hunting license in the state of New York if this is how the deer behave.
As I continued on, the terrain just continued to roll up and down all day. None of the hills are worth mentioning on their own, but collectively they were enough to basically demoralize me at how slow my pace was going, and I didn't even have any mountains to blame.
Eventually I crossed into Connecticut, but I hadn't planned ahead very well as to where I would rest for the night. There were not any campgrounds nearby (down south there were RV campgrounds EVERYWHERE), and my GPS was only showing me a couple of bed and breakfasts in the area (which are generally out of my price range). I went to one of the bed and breakfasts to just test the waters, and the woman at the counter said that their nightly rate was $359. That's dumb. I asked if she knew of any more modestly priced lodging available, and she suggested that I call a woman named Marie that lived down the street. Apparently Salisbury, CT, is very close to the Appalachian trail (which I think I've crossed 5 times now), and Marie likes to host hikers for a small fee. Marie is an older woman from northern Italy that loves company. She seems to be loving life, but wishes she were 20 years younger so she could host hikers for another 20 years. This woman is fantastic. I got there and she showed me right in to my room, gave me a cold drink, and said that she was taking a couple of hikers to the laundromat a little later and offered me a ride as well. While our laundry was in, we ate pizza at this awesome little place that was basically connected to the laundromat and chatted about the Appalachian Trail and cycling. Marie hosts so many hikers throughout the season that she wouldn't cook for them, but she said each of us could have 3 eggs, a bagel, a banana, and a glass of orange juice in the morning. She sleeps in. I couldn't have asked for better lodging. Even if the ridiculously overpriced bed and breakfast would have let me stay there for free, I believe Marie's place trumps it.
The next morning I got up a little later than I wanted, but the bed was just too comfortable. I made myself breakfast and chatted with one of the two hikers that had also spent the night. Sidenote: apparently hikers on the A.T. have nicknames they go by. All of them. Cheese and Sticker were the two that stayed at Marie's place that night. Anyway, Sticker was up early with me and he had done some touring himself in the past, so we talked about gear and miles and how much climbing sucks.
When I pulled out of the driveway, I was feeling pretty good. As I rolled on for the day, miles were adding up quickly and I was making good time. Then sometime near 11:00am I hit a little snag. I was just riding along, minding my own business, staying as far right as I deem safe out of respect for the very light traffic on that particular road. The grass in the ditch was pretty tall and had been brushing my right leg most of the morning, but that wasn't a problem. It became a problem when I was glancing down at my map (on top of my handlebar bag) and the grass camouflaged the start of a guard rail. Since I was so far to the right, the guard rail went between my right front bag and my front wheel. This, of course, stopped my bicycle very quickly. I, however, did not stop, and over the handlebars I went. It all happened quite quickly, so I don't know exactly how I managed to get a hand down and sort of turn myself and end up in a seated position looking back at my bike. Somewhere in the process my left knee hit the ground, so now it looks like it's trying to digest a racquetball. That was my only injury, and it's pretty minor. It hasn't had an impact on the riding. My bike is also fine, but the front rack is quite bent. It is functional at the moment, but I should really find a way of getting it bent back into shape. Now if I hit big bumps, my right front bag sort of swings in and rubs my spokes a little, but normal riding is fine. I should also mention, that the first thing I saw when I landed from my trip over the bars was a white car that was close enough that the driver had to have seen me wreck. The jerk didn't even slow down, she just drove right around me and kept on her merry way. As I dusted myself off and wheeled my bike a little further down the road to a safer place to check for damages, I could only think of how mad I was at that person for not stopping. Granted, I ended up walking away, but what if I had been injured or my bike was rendered unrideable? It would have been nice for her to at least shout out the window, "You ok?"
At this point, I realized my day wasn't going to be as long as I had hoped. I adjusted my fender so it wasn't rubbing on the tire and started looking at the route ahead for lodging and a bike shop (with the aid of my sister and her internet connection). I ended up pedaling on without making any major decisions.
I got to the town of Ellington, CT, and figured I should look for a place to crash for the night (Ha, crash. Get it? Whatever). I pulled over and sought aid from my sister and her internet again, and this time I thought I was just on the sidewalk in a residential area, but I was in front of a small business called Thistle Glass Crafts. "Crystals, Minerals, Stone Jewelry, Herbal Products, Books, Labyrinth, Reiki Energy Sessions" is what it says on their business card. I don't know how else to tell you what kind of shop this was. One of the two women in the store came out to see if everything was ok and offered me air conditioning. I took her up on the offer. While we were inside, I told them about the whole trip and why I'm doing it. They got out a box with some rocks in it and told me I should take one. They said that they have healing properties. They also gave me a bar of soap that one of them made. It's the old fashioned stuff made with lye. When they told me that, my mind immediately went to the movie Fight Club, but I thought it inappropriate to bring up. As I was leaving they offered to fill my water bottles, but they didn't do it at the shop. They said that the well water at their house was better. I do have to say that it was a lot better than most of the city water I have drank along the way. While the one was getting the water, the other asked if I was taking donations. I told her that I was encouraging people to donate through the website, as that goes straight to MDS, thus simplifying everything. She said they'd go to the website, but made a cash donation to the "help feed Neal" fund. Now, I don't know what exactly to think about the healing power of rocks or Reiki energy stuff, but I definitely will not forget the generosity and eagerness to help that these two women exuded.
We're supposed to love our neighbor as ourselves. Who was my neighbor today? Certainly not the woman that passed by on the other side of the road. We didn't talk at length about beliefs, but I'm guessing the two women in the crystal shop and I don't have a whole lot in common spiritually, but honestly, who was my neighbor?
From their little shop, I headed up. It was a bit of a climb (for Connecticut standards) to get to Stafford Springs, where I stopped for a pizza. When I left the restaurant, it was raining. I climbed another 600ft or so in the next 6 miles to the top of the ridge and wheeled in to the Ashford Motel. There were flash flood watches for the whole area, so camping seemed like a bad idea.
When I got up this morning, my stuff was still wet, including my shoes. I had dry cycling gear to wear, of course, but putting on wet shoes in the morning just isn't fun. When I got out the door, it was still drizzling, so the rest of me got wet anyway. It was hard to get motivated out of the hotel room, especially with the rain. I continued through Connecticut, up in to Massachusets, back into Connecticut, into Rhode Island, back north into Massachusets, and eventually to the town of Westborough, MA. It had been a pretty hilly and very wet morning, and I was ready for some real food, which I hadn't really had any of yet. I pulled up to the first people I saw outside and asked them where a good local place to eat would be, and they pointed me to the building they just came out of: The South Street Diner. I pulled up to the bar to order a burger and some coffee (being wet and in the air conditioning, a hot beverage sounded great), and a guy behind the counter asked where I was coming from. Of course, I got to talking about the trip again (I hope I don't sound rehearsed by now). When I was about done eating, my waitress told me that the man I had been talking to was the owner, and that my lunch was on the house. Soon thereafter, he came by and told me that a guy from the newspaper was on his way over to take a picture and ask me a few questions. We went through the whole interview business and I got on the road. I looked at my maps when I was inside and had decided to stop at a campground about 20 miles away. Once I got to riding, things were just going too well to stop at that campground. The terrain had flattened out, my stomach had real food in it, and it was overcast but not raining. I decided to keep on going. Eventually I stumbled across this trail that had formerly been a railway. These are like gold for a cyclist. Trains can't go on anything steeper than 3% grade. This trail was very nicely paved and absolutely flat, maybe even a little downhill. I hit that trail and I was moving. I kept looking down at my GPS for updates on my speed, and I think I was rolling about 20 for my entire time on that trail. I ended up missing my turn, but I didn't really care, I just kept going because it was so gratifying to be covering so much ground. The trail ended up dumping me out in Nashua, NH, not very far from a Motel 6. I figured that since I had touched 4 states with my bike that day and that I was probably over 100 miles for the day, I could go for another hotel room.
As I rode, I reflected on how my travels have gone thus far, and what seemed to make the difference between a good day and a crappy day, or even a good hour from a bad hour. I think I'm an extrovert to the core. I'm not saying I'm always the most outgoing person, but an extrovert in the sense that I get energy from being around people and having positive interactions with people. The morning after staying with Maria and the A.T. hikers I was buzzing up and down the hills I was cursing the day before. After speaking with the crystal women I climbed another 1000 feet, half of which in the rain, and I was smiling when I got to the top. I had a rough morning going through Connecticut and Rhode Island, but when I stopped for lunch and enjoyed the hospitality of The South Street Diner I proceeded to rock out another 50 miles and get to another state. I can certainly see the strength and weakness in this. Right now I'm alone in a Motel 6, about to set out towards Maine, and I'm having a hard time motivating myself to just get out the door. But once I'm on my bike, things get a little better, and if I get a chance to interact with some random stranger along the road, even better. Now I just need to figure out how to overcome the weakness and utilize the strength in what I'm learning about how I operate. I know my body can do this, I just need to get my mental game in order.
Now I am heading to Maine. I intend to camp on the beach. I don't really care where, but I want to be on the beach. It should be a shorter day. This will be a pretty big landmark for the trip, as I will transition from a northeasterly trajectory to straight west. I'm not exactly sure how I'm getting through New Hampshire and Vermont en route to the Great Lakes, but it's looking like it's going to be some rough going no matter where I go. Oh, and I'll cross the Appalachian trail for the 6th time when I turn back west.
I didn't have as much time as I hoped for. I thought it was more important to write another entry than to upload pictures. I promise I'll get some up here soon.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Rain delay and rolling terrain
I got up in the morning at my friend Wendell's parents home and got ready to pedal towards New Jersey. I was all dressed and had my bags locked on to the bike when I felt a few drops on my arm. I figured it would be a good idea to take a minute to look at the forecast. While I was inside, it started to pour as I read that most of eastern Pennsylvania was in a flood watch or warning. There were parts of the storm that were dumping almost 2" in less than an hour. I had gotten out of bed early in hopes of making a long day, but the rain delayed my start time to 1:00pm.
As I left Pennsylvania I found a welcome to PA sign to take my picture by, since I had missed it on my way in. On the other side of the bridge, New Jersey did not welcome me. I was following the Delaware River, which makes up the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey, for most of the day and I couldn't find a sign welcoming me to New Jersey. I took a break for supper in Phillipsburg, NJ, and talked with a traffic officer for a while. He gave me lodging suggestions for the area, ranging from squatting under the bridge to a Holiday Inn Express on the edge of town. I didn't think I had covered enough ground for the day, so I ended up pushing on. He also told me that the hotels in the area might be priced a little higher than usual because Thomas the Tank Engine was in town. I didn't know that would draw a crowd. And I didn't know that Thomas the Tank Engine made special appearances.
I pressed onward to Belvidere, NJ, and stayed at a little hotel above a restaurant just across the river on the Pennsylvania side. It has 6 rooms, and I don't know when the last time anyone slept in this one would have been. It was a nice little room, but definitely felt as though it had been dormant for quite some time. I think the owners' primary source of income is the restaurant, not the hotel.
This morning I got off to a pretty early start, but made a wrong turn within the first 5 miles that didn't add any mileage on to my ride (may have even made it a little bit shorter), but it sure did add some elevation change. I was a little bit displeased with myself for that one.
From there things went pretty smoothly until I got to Delaware Water Gap, PA. I was supposed to cross the river, but it took me forever to figure out how. The only bridge I saw was I-80. After some riding in circles (up and down the same hills), I asked some locals, and they told me that there was a footpath along side the interstate that is apparently part of the Appalachian Trail. On the bridge I caught up to a hiker who was traveling with his dog. I was impressed at how well the dog was trained, but a language barrier prevented me from expressing that to the owner.
The stretch of road through Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area was probably my favorite part of the day. The whole time I was riding I was in the shade because the road was very narrow and the trees connected above me. There was very little traffic and several other bikers, though none with touring gear on their bikes.
A particularly long lunch break in Layton (understaffed diner) set me back a little further. When I did get back on the bike, I was seriously lacking motivation. I was sick of the constant rise and fall of the road that prevented me from getting into any kind of rhythm and it was getting hot. I kept thinking about how many miles behind schedule I am and pressed onward. Near Montague, NJ, I made a brief wrong turn that actually led me to a "welcome to New Jersey" sign, so it wasn't a total loss.
A stop in Port Jervis, NY, for a strawberry milkshake and one more in Cuddebackville, NY, to check the weather (ominous clouds and a change in the wind ended up being nothing) and I was on towards Middletown, NY, where I have settled in at a Super 8. The man checking me into my room and two bystanders were pretty shocked/impressed to hear about my cycling endeavor. It was good to have that kind of reaction, as it's been several days since I've talked to anyone that really seems to care much about the idea of cycling around the country. I mean, people have generally said, "Huh, that's pretty neat" and then stopped talking. It's motivating to meet new people that really think I'm doing something interesting enough that they want to ask more questions.
Tomorrow I should be at least close to the Connecticut border, if not in the state. I didn't get a picture with a sign welcoming me to New York, so I'll have to make sure to find one on the way out.
As I left Pennsylvania I found a welcome to PA sign to take my picture by, since I had missed it on my way in. On the other side of the bridge, New Jersey did not welcome me. I was following the Delaware River, which makes up the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey, for most of the day and I couldn't find a sign welcoming me to New Jersey. I took a break for supper in Phillipsburg, NJ, and talked with a traffic officer for a while. He gave me lodging suggestions for the area, ranging from squatting under the bridge to a Holiday Inn Express on the edge of town. I didn't think I had covered enough ground for the day, so I ended up pushing on. He also told me that the hotels in the area might be priced a little higher than usual because Thomas the Tank Engine was in town. I didn't know that would draw a crowd. And I didn't know that Thomas the Tank Engine made special appearances.
I pressed onward to Belvidere, NJ, and stayed at a little hotel above a restaurant just across the river on the Pennsylvania side. It has 6 rooms, and I don't know when the last time anyone slept in this one would have been. It was a nice little room, but definitely felt as though it had been dormant for quite some time. I think the owners' primary source of income is the restaurant, not the hotel.
This morning I got off to a pretty early start, but made a wrong turn within the first 5 miles that didn't add any mileage on to my ride (may have even made it a little bit shorter), but it sure did add some elevation change. I was a little bit displeased with myself for that one.
From there things went pretty smoothly until I got to Delaware Water Gap, PA. I was supposed to cross the river, but it took me forever to figure out how. The only bridge I saw was I-80. After some riding in circles (up and down the same hills), I asked some locals, and they told me that there was a footpath along side the interstate that is apparently part of the Appalachian Trail. On the bridge I caught up to a hiker who was traveling with his dog. I was impressed at how well the dog was trained, but a language barrier prevented me from expressing that to the owner.
The stretch of road through Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area was probably my favorite part of the day. The whole time I was riding I was in the shade because the road was very narrow and the trees connected above me. There was very little traffic and several other bikers, though none with touring gear on their bikes.
A particularly long lunch break in Layton (understaffed diner) set me back a little further. When I did get back on the bike, I was seriously lacking motivation. I was sick of the constant rise and fall of the road that prevented me from getting into any kind of rhythm and it was getting hot. I kept thinking about how many miles behind schedule I am and pressed onward. Near Montague, NJ, I made a brief wrong turn that actually led me to a "welcome to New Jersey" sign, so it wasn't a total loss.
A stop in Port Jervis, NY, for a strawberry milkshake and one more in Cuddebackville, NY, to check the weather (ominous clouds and a change in the wind ended up being nothing) and I was on towards Middletown, NY, where I have settled in at a Super 8. The man checking me into my room and two bystanders were pretty shocked/impressed to hear about my cycling endeavor. It was good to have that kind of reaction, as it's been several days since I've talked to anyone that really seems to care much about the idea of cycling around the country. I mean, people have generally said, "Huh, that's pretty neat" and then stopped talking. It's motivating to meet new people that really think I'm doing something interesting enough that they want to ask more questions.
Tomorrow I should be at least close to the Connecticut border, if not in the state. I didn't get a picture with a sign welcoming me to New York, so I'll have to make sure to find one on the way out.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Akron, PA; Kalona, IA; and Souderton, PA
Well, I got out of Greenwood, DE, before sunrise on Monday the 5th. It was a nice ride away from Tom's house that morning. I got to see every bit of the sunrise as I rode, and as it came up, the whole area was blanketed by a light fog that was hovering about four or five feet off the ground in most places. There were almost no cars on the roads; I'm assuming most were still enjoying the holiday weekend. Given the beautiful sunrise through the light fog and the incredibly flat terrain of the Delmarva Peninsula, it was shaping up to be a great morning. Just as this thought passed through my head, I was quickly distracted by an awful noise from my rear wheel, accompanied by the introduction of a whole lot of drag that slowed me to a halt. I was really hoping that I had a broken spoke. Most cyclists won't make that statement most of the time, but that would have been the easiest fix at that point. I dismounted the bike and began to try to diagnose the problem. Unfortunately, the spokes were all fine and in tact. When I picked up the rear of the bicycle and tried to spin the wheel, it didn't really want to cooperate. I pulled the wheel off to have a look at the situation, and the axle wouldn't turn. I used a pliers to make it turn a few times, but I knew this was not something I was equipped to deal with on the side of the road. I called my friend Tom, who I had been staying with, and explained my dilemma. As I learned during my weekend with them, Tom and his family keep very busy, but his father TJ took the time to come get me and my bike and drive us to Newark, Delaware, where we found a bicycle repair shop. He dropped me off, wished me luck, and headed back to the hectic life of running his pallet business.
I had some time to kill before the bike shop opened, so I found the Sugar Rush Cafe just down the street and sat there for a while. I told the man working (I'm guessing he's the owner) about my bike ride and how my morning had gone thus far, and he told me that if I was still around for lunch, it was on him. I was genuinely hoping that I would be gone before lunch, as the bike shop opened at 10am, but it was a very nice offer.
When I got to the bike shop, I told the mechanic what had happened, and his first suggestion was that I may have a broken spoke. When all was said and done at the bike shop, they had pulled a wheel off of one of their bikes in the showroom and put it on my bike because the hub in my rear wheel was completely shelled out. Now, that's not a normal thing to happen to a bike. If you've been following my travels, you may remember when I had my wheel looked at when I was near Americus, Georgia, or when I brought it in to another shop in Blacksburg, Virginia. I knew something wasn't right, and both of these shops assured me that "that's normal". Well, now I'm out $150 and whatever I paid those other shops to misdiagnose the problem. Whatever.
I went back to the Sugar Rush Cafe and had a good lunch on the house and hit the road at about 1:00pm. It was hot. I kept hydrating myself, but my water was hot because it was out in the sun, too. A few times I had to pull over to sit in the shade, not because I was tired, but because I started to feel a bit queezy and I've been told that's a sign of heat stroke. After passing through the quirky and awkwardly named town of Intercourse, Pennsylvania, I arrived in Akron just after 6:00pm, 13 hours after I pulled out of Tom's driveway in Delaware.
While in Akron, my friend Tim made arrangements for me to sleep and also found a bike shop in the area that had time to give my bike a tune-up. I also found out that some of my friends were in town for training/orientation before they leave the country to serve with Mennonite Central Committee abroad. Andy and Emily were both students at Goshen with me, and Luke and Sarah attended New Creation Fellowship Church with me while I was living in Kansas. I'm very glad I got a chance to see all four of them before they left the country.
I got a ride to the airport in Harrisburg, PA, to fly to the funeral of my friend Jason Marner. I thought I would mention it in the blog, but I'm still thinking a lot about the last few days and I haven't really come up with what to say, except that I know his friends and family would appreciate your thoughts and prayers. As you drive, please keep an eye out for motorcycles (and bicycles).
I returned to Akron to find my bike all tuned and ready to ride, new brake pads and all. I got to bed at a decent hour and woke up a little later than usual, but I was still very drained from my two days in Iowa with so little sleep. It was hard to climb out of bed in the morning. It was a very easy 60 miles to get to my destination, passing through yet another awkwardly named Pennsylvania town: Blue Ball.
Along the way I stopped by a particularly hospitable bike shop in St Trappe, PA, called Bikesport where I caught the end of today's stage of the Tour de France and purchased a new cassette for my bike and sought out suggestions for where to grab lunch. As I cruised through the last few miles to my destination, I passed Franconia Mennonite Church and saw a produce stand on the side of the road. Generally that is not something of note, as they are everywhere around here, but at this particular stand, as I happened to pass by, I saw my friend Brooke drive up and get out of her car. We both just kind of laughed at each other for a minute before actually saying hello. From that very unexpected interaction I proceeded on to the house my friend Wendell grew up in. His parents graciously agreed to host me for a night.
Tomorrow I will be meeting up with the Atlantic Coast route from Adventure Cycling Association. Hopefully I will find a few bicycles going my way that I can ride with for at least a day.
I had some time to kill before the bike shop opened, so I found the Sugar Rush Cafe just down the street and sat there for a while. I told the man working (I'm guessing he's the owner) about my bike ride and how my morning had gone thus far, and he told me that if I was still around for lunch, it was on him. I was genuinely hoping that I would be gone before lunch, as the bike shop opened at 10am, but it was a very nice offer.
When I got to the bike shop, I told the mechanic what had happened, and his first suggestion was that I may have a broken spoke. When all was said and done at the bike shop, they had pulled a wheel off of one of their bikes in the showroom and put it on my bike because the hub in my rear wheel was completely shelled out. Now, that's not a normal thing to happen to a bike. If you've been following my travels, you may remember when I had my wheel looked at when I was near Americus, Georgia, or when I brought it in to another shop in Blacksburg, Virginia. I knew something wasn't right, and both of these shops assured me that "that's normal". Well, now I'm out $150 and whatever I paid those other shops to misdiagnose the problem. Whatever.
I went back to the Sugar Rush Cafe and had a good lunch on the house and hit the road at about 1:00pm. It was hot. I kept hydrating myself, but my water was hot because it was out in the sun, too. A few times I had to pull over to sit in the shade, not because I was tired, but because I started to feel a bit queezy and I've been told that's a sign of heat stroke. After passing through the quirky and awkwardly named town of Intercourse, Pennsylvania, I arrived in Akron just after 6:00pm, 13 hours after I pulled out of Tom's driveway in Delaware.
While in Akron, my friend Tim made arrangements for me to sleep and also found a bike shop in the area that had time to give my bike a tune-up. I also found out that some of my friends were in town for training/orientation before they leave the country to serve with Mennonite Central Committee abroad. Andy and Emily were both students at Goshen with me, and Luke and Sarah attended New Creation Fellowship Church with me while I was living in Kansas. I'm very glad I got a chance to see all four of them before they left the country.
I got a ride to the airport in Harrisburg, PA, to fly to the funeral of my friend Jason Marner. I thought I would mention it in the blog, but I'm still thinking a lot about the last few days and I haven't really come up with what to say, except that I know his friends and family would appreciate your thoughts and prayers. As you drive, please keep an eye out for motorcycles (and bicycles).
I returned to Akron to find my bike all tuned and ready to ride, new brake pads and all. I got to bed at a decent hour and woke up a little later than usual, but I was still very drained from my two days in Iowa with so little sleep. It was hard to climb out of bed in the morning. It was a very easy 60 miles to get to my destination, passing through yet another awkwardly named Pennsylvania town: Blue Ball.
Along the way I stopped by a particularly hospitable bike shop in St Trappe, PA, called Bikesport where I caught the end of today's stage of the Tour de France and purchased a new cassette for my bike and sought out suggestions for where to grab lunch. As I cruised through the last few miles to my destination, I passed Franconia Mennonite Church and saw a produce stand on the side of the road. Generally that is not something of note, as they are everywhere around here, but at this particular stand, as I happened to pass by, I saw my friend Brooke drive up and get out of her car. We both just kind of laughed at each other for a minute before actually saying hello. From that very unexpected interaction I proceeded on to the house my friend Wendell grew up in. His parents graciously agreed to host me for a night.
Tomorrow I will be meeting up with the Atlantic Coast route from Adventure Cycling Association. Hopefully I will find a few bicycles going my way that I can ride with for at least a day.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
A day on the bike ahead, then three more off...
Another quick update for those following the blog. Tomorrow morning I'm going to get on the road very early and ride more than 100 miles to Akron, PA. I'm staying with my friend Tim, who lives basically next door to the MDS offices. I plan to visit the MDS offices on Tuesday morning, then I will fly out to my friend Jason's funeral later that afternoon. I should be returning on Thursday evening, and back on the bike Friday. I will be very far behind schedule, so I will probably be in a mindset to cover more miles than to see fun things like baby tigers. There will be some rough terrain through New Hampshire, Vermont, and New York until I get near the Great Lakes. After that, I should be rolling through relatively flat terrain until Montana. I know I will make up these miles that I am behind, I just don't like the feeling of being behind or the lack of freedom that it affords me.
By the way, my internet source is the computer at the house I am staying. My pictures are on my personal computer. When I am able to connect my own computer to the internet, I will update the blogs with pictures.
By the way, my internet source is the computer at the house I am staying. My pictures are on my personal computer. When I am able to connect my own computer to the internet, I will update the blogs with pictures.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Quick Update
On a very different note, when I arrived in Delaware and turned on my phone, I received a voicemail from my former employer, the Dean of Students at Hesston College. He informed me that Jason Marner, one of the Resident Assistants that I worked with during my first year working at Hesston College, had died that morning in a motorcycle accident. He has been living in Harrisonburg, VA, lately, but he was not in town when I came through. As I look at the task ahead of me and the miles that I need to cover, I am also exploring options of attending the funeral service in Iowa. I don't know if it is possible for me to attend.
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