AXC - The bike

AXC - The bike

Thursday, July 31, 2014

Anatomy of a Good Day


The title for this blog has been in my head for weeks, and I've been meaning to write this. (I also thought about writing it's inverse, the anatomy of a bad day.) But in both cases, I just never got around to it. Besides, the good days keep coming, and which one do I write about?

Finally, the day was SO good, I just had to write about it, not just to share it, but to make sure I wrote it down to remember it. 

The day was Wednesday, July 30. Riding from Sisters, OR to McKenzie Bridge, OR. Crossing McKenzie Pass along the way. 

The evolution of the really good day actually starts several days back with a handful of bad days. That's actually an overstatement, the days weren't bad, they were just very difficult and compounded on one another over several days. In the span of 3 days, we crossed 5 mountain passes, culminating with a nearly 90 mile day (including climbing a pass that day.)

Then we had a couple of less difficult days, which included a 40 mile ride from Prineville to Sisters that was so easy I was done before noon, which was a first for this trip. Then, having practically a whole day in Sisters was a treat as the town was very cute and nice to walk around in and kill an afternoon. Heck, the bike shop even had a tap with 6 beers and a guy who would just as soon tune your bike as pour you a pint! With almost a whole day to spend in a nice town, it practically felt like a rest day. 

That leads me to the good day. 

Things started off like pretty much any other day; wake up, break down camp, eat a little something, and get on the road. I knew there were no services the whole way so I stopped at a convenience store on the way out of town to pick up a gatorade and extra water. 

The ride to the top of the pass was 17 miles uphill. On the road, the climb started pretty much right away. It was very gradual at first, only 2-3% grade, and along a nice shaded road with a view of the mountains in the distance. 



One unique thing about the day was that there was another bicycle group also doing the pass. An Oregon group based near Portland that was doing a 10 day, 500 mile loop of the state. This is an annual event, and draws a big crowd - there were about 45 riders in this group! Only a few miles into my ride I ran into the first couple and chatted with them a bit. We played leap-frog for a while when we each stopped for a little something and would pass each other. I chatted with them several times up the mountain. There were many other people I talked to on the way up and had good conversations with all of them. I'd ask them about their tour, and they'd ask me about mine. It was interesting, enjoyable, and really helped pass the time. I even encountered a nice guy who has been reading my blog! (Shout out to the nice guy on the funky recumbent! And btw, 'AXC' stands for 'Aaron Cross Country.') He said he found my blog linked from Adventure Cycling Associations e-mail newsletter. I said I knew they linked to the blog, I just didn't think anyone actually read it! ;-)


Pretty quickly, the hill went from the gradual grade to a more substantial climb of 5-7%. This isn't steep, but it's steep enough to have to get in a low gear, and gets me breathing a little harder. Even so,  one of the little things I enjoyed about the climb was passing other riders from this group going up the hill, on my fully loaded bike while most of them were riding bare-bones! Hey, I've been working out!
One guy even commented on the size of my legs and that I looked like I was clearly in good shape. 88 days on the road will do that to you!

About halfway up the mountain there was a lookout spot where I pulled over to take in the view, snap a few pictures and have a snack. I downed my gatorade and felt pretty good so far. 

The overlook was the start of the McKenzie Pass lava fields. The top of the mountain is covered with lava rock from eons-old lava flows. It is a surreal landscape that looks a little like the surface of the moon. It is also something brand new that I haven't seen before on this ride, and was thoroughly interesting. 


Back on the bike, I caught up with some of the other riders from my own group, chatted for a bit, and then we all continued on up the hill at our own pace. I stopped here and there to take pictures, and was enjoying not only the company of the other riders, but just the fact of not riding up this hill by myself. A side benefit of so many bikes being out that day was that drivers coming up the mountain were encountering riders the whole way, and were thus more cautious about their speed and coming around turns on the narrow roads. 


A little over 2 hours into the ride, I turned a corner and saw the 'Observatory.' One of the other riders had told me this was at the top, but it felt like there was no way I should be at the summit yet. However, sure enough there was the sign; "Summit McKenzie Pass Elev. 5325."
Hell, that was practically easy! 



At the top I saw most of my own gang, as well as throngs of other people in brightly colored spandex. For once, I didn't stand out! I went up to the top of the observatory and met up with others from my group. We admired the view, and talked about the climb up; the general consensus was that this was surprisingly not hard, and much quicker than we were expecting. 


We talked to the other riders, swapped stories and just enjoyed the view and the fact that we crested the mountain much sooner than expected. Meaning we had the rest of the day to go down the other side and get to camp, so we could take plenty of time to relax. It was very fun having most of the group meet up at the top and chill. Some days we go the entire ride without seeing each other, so this was a rare mid-day hang out

I had my lunch, took a lot of pictures, and also talked with other riders. 


Then it was time to get back on the bike and head downhill. Always my favorite part of any climb!

There was advanced notice that the downhill was very winding and twisty, and somewhat steep at points, so be careful. I started off rolling down, but there was a false downhill, as just a half mile in I had to climb again! But after just a mile or two of that, the real downhill began. It was steep at first, and certainly very twisty. I describe this as a 'technical' downhill, meaning there is technical skill needed to do it. The downhill wasn't just 'point the bike down and let gravity do the work.' There is skill and experience for knowing how to brake going into turns, how take turns at high speed and not drift over into other lanes, and apply brakes properly to slow down enough when you need it without panic-braking. The hill wasn't so steep that I was bombing down at crazy speeds, it was just enough to be exciting without being dangerous. The technical aspect kept it interesting, and in all it was just fun. Then, as I became comfortable with the downhill, I was able to start looking up and around at my surroundings. 
Coming up the mountain, we were in a forest that was healthy and pretty. But on the backside of the mountain just a few miles down, the lava flows gave way to a forest that was thick and rich and deep green. The trees were huge and healthy and centuries old. There was dense underbrush, a little humidity, and the smell of the forest in the air. It was lush. 



And the downhill just kept going and going, through the most gorgeous forest I've seen on this trip. The bright blue sky peeked through the heavy canopy here and there, casting starkly contrasting shadows on the road. I wound down the twisty hills, thinking this felt like it was out of a luxury car commercial or a movie. 
And still the downhill just kept going. 
I was lost in thought, pulling on the brakes and navigating the turns by instinct while my mind wandered - taking in the deep greens and the magnificence of the trees around me. I barely pedaled, didn't have to. Occasionally other bikes would fly by me, I paid them no mind. 

I knew as I was going through this spectacular forest that it was something special. For a bit I rode with my head turned to the sky and watched the tips of the trees go by. I tried to take in all the details;  trees a dozen feet wide and a hundred feet tall, the dense underbrush that looked almost like a tropical rainforest, the smell that permeated the air, and the cool breeze. At one point the trees opened up into a clearing and the hot sun beat down on my back and felt wonderful, then I was back in the canopy and the cool air was rushing by again. 

Time seemed to go away for a while, and I was just experiencing the world around me while gravity did the work. 

Finally, the downhill ride came to an end at a 'T' intersection in the road. I looked at the sign that pointed back the way I came and it said 'McKenzie Pass 22 miles.' I had just gone 22 miles downhill. For almost a hour and a quarter I had barely pedaled. It was beyond description. There have been some magnificent downhills on this trip: Nine miles in Wyoming past of some of the most stunning mountain views of the trip. An epic eight mile bomb down a highway in Idaho that was more thrilling than any roller-coaster. A scenic 10 mile decent into Breckenridge from Hoosier Pass, and many more.
But this ride down McKenzie pass was my favorite downhill of the trip. It wasn't the fastest, and might not have even been the most scenic, but it was fast without being worrisome, endlessly beautiful, and relaxing in a way that was just plain enjoyable. It is the first time I thought that I would be willing climb a hill over again, just to experience that downhill again.

Still, the day wasn't over, and I had another 5 or 6 miles to camp. A few miles down the road I stopped by a river and sat and ate an orange while listening to the water rush by. I was hungry, and the orange tasted like ambrosia. 

A little futher down I ran into the whole gang stopped at a general store. I stopped as well and had a nice root beer. It was not ambrosia, but a cold drink was still delicious. 
Camp ended up being less than a mile from this store, and this wonderful day's ride was done by 1pm. To cap off such a nice ride, the campsite was beautiful, setting up tent among enormous old trees and next to that rushing river. 



This was a day for the books. One of the last days of the trip. 

At the top of the pass, looking out over the lava flows at the Three Sisters glaciers, another rider asked me "have you seen anything this beautiful?" And I felt bad thinking "yeah, kinda." It felt a little like 'been there, done that.' I just wasn't as impressed as she was, and I felt like maybe a little bit of the wonder had faded, or was jaded. But that downhill showed me there are still wonders, enjoyment, and surprises over every pass. I smiled so much that day, my face hurt at the end of the day. 

There have been many good days on this trip, more than I can count or categorize. This was not the 'best', but rather, it was yet another really good day. 











Sunday, July 27, 2014

Days go by

There is only one week left of this bike trip. Twelve weeks behind me, and the coast is in sight. Fellow rider Michael says: Close enough to get exited, but too far away to celebrate. 
I did a two week touchpoint at the start of the trip and am looking at it now with just one remaining. 

At the original two week marker, the trip felt so much different. I had been riding in Virginia for the whole time and it felt like we'd never get out of that state. Two weeks felt like an eternity. At that time that was the most physical activity I'd ever done in that time span. The trip was all ahead of me and I had but the briefest taste. 

Now, with 4000 miles under my wheels, 9 states, and 12 weeks, I'm trying to put into words what I feel. I know I won't be able to fully digest this whole thing until long after I'm done and I can look back on it. But right now, with the end looming large, here are my thoughts. 

Twelve weeks has never felt longer in my life. It is like time has decompressed and this trip is the only thing I've ever known. I've spent my whole life on the road. There was another life, another time, when I was an IT guy, a triathlete, I had a house and bills and a TV. 
From the outside I know this was only 3 months and that goes by in the blink of an eye. What did you do this summer? Did you go on any trips? Did you finish any big projects at work or around the house? Did the days and weeks blend together until you wondered how June and July whirled past in a flash? 

For me the days go buy at a 10 mph. I see every wildflower on the side of the road, every abandoned car, every mountain in the distance. I have been surprise that even after all this time I am still excited to be on this trip. I get on my bike and most days I think "wow, I'm really doing this!" Every day has its own beauty and challenges, each one standing as it's own entity, it's own eternity. Every mile is earned, with sweat and strength. The miles go by slowly, yet accumulate quickly. In the distance I see my future, a mountain range as a hazy silhouette on the horizon, impossibly far away. I roll inevitably, inexorably, towards them, and eventually they melt away in my rear view mirror.  

Eventually the days and cities blend together, forming a larger tapestry of being on the road. 

I've had wonderful experiences that I never would have expected: Going to a rodeo in Wyoming, hot spring baths in Colorado, having a banquet thrown for us in Kansas, bombing down a mountainside in Idaho. And more than I can recount. 
There have been hard days too. Very few, but days where I just didn't want to ride, days where I wanted the trip to be done with already. This is where the mental fortitude is just as important as the physical strength. 

And it is amazing to me to see the physical strength build as I ride. Hills that would have knocked me out in Kentucky and Missouri are now barely a thought. I ride up inclines twice as long, and smile at the top. Sure, I get my heartrate up and my legs burn a little, but I'm demonstrably stronger now than when I started. 60 mile days that would have felt long early on are now just 'tuesday'. 

The days are starting to blend together more as well. Weeks used to feel like months, as time slowed down. Now the end seems to be approaching like a freight train. And yet, every day is still it's own eternity, right up until the end. 

Right now, I'm both looking back at the trip and looking forward. Looking back at where I've been, deconstructing this lifetime in the saddle; where I've been and how far I've come. Not just in the miles, but physically, emotionally, personally. 

I think I won't be able to fully process and understand this trip until well after I'm done. But for now, in this life I am a cyclist, at least for one more week. 

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Pedal

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Saturday, July 12, 2014

Wherever I may roam


This trip has brought me a lot of experience, and experiences. When I signed up for this, it was with the understanding that it was "self supported," meaning we carried all our own gear, in particular our tent and sleeping bag. With the expectation that we'd be camping most nights. Upon further research, I learned that in addition to camping, we would be staying at a variety of other places and accommodations as well. This is a rundown of the places I've stayed, and the experiences therein. 


Camping

This was how I expected we'd spend most nights, and that has been the case. Maybe 60-70% of the time we've been 'tenting', our term for camping, since calling it "camping" might be a bit of a stretch. 
In the past, my experience camping (at established camp grounds) has been semi-remote but not really 'roughing it.'
On this trip, the majority of our camping has been at RV parks, where they have a little grass sections (sizes vary from postage-stamp size to 'at least we're not on top of each other') set aside for tents. 

If you've ever been to a KOA campground or Good Sam, that's what a lot of these have been. 
They all have showers and restroom facilities, and running water available somewhere. 
These are the Holiday Inn of camping. 



In one case, an RV site in the sticks was much smaller, and the RV's looked like they'd been there for a long time. Basically, we camped at a trailer park. Still, there was a nice pavilion, a shower and a bathroom. 

One RV park we were supposed to camp at for two nights was in Damascus (over a rest day). But instead of setting up camp, the manager let us sleep in the large and unused restaurant hall in the big central building. The restaurant had been closed for years, and was pretty much abandoned. It was storming on and off those two days, and it was a great offer to have a roof. I opted not to sleep in the communal room, and instead set up my tent on the patio, still under cover. I liked this place a lot because it was so eccentric. Once upon a time, the room was very fancy, and it still had high elegant wood ceilings and chandeliers, and a large and elegant fireplace. 


Other camping accommodations have been more basic. We camped in a lot in city parks. This is just about what it sounds like (we always had permission from the city.) In most cases the park was near the city pool, we would shower at the pool facility, and the city would leave the bathrooms unlocked for us all night. Some of these were nicer than others, but for the most part I liked these a lot. It felt more like camping than the RV parks, and was less hectic. In some cases, these places didn't have any shower facilities, and we had to go elsewhere to wash up. Once we had to go a block over to the county fairground, and once we had to rent a hotel room to use the shower. 


One campsite at a city park was under the bight lights of the baseball field. The showers were part of the park pool, which hadn't yet opened for the season, so someone had to come and unlock it for us for one hour. Again, there was no hot water (and it had been a really cold day), but a shower is not to be missed. 

Another night we camped in another community park, but this time the pool was open and we arrived early. It was a particularly hot day and we all partook of the pool for several hours. There were diving boards, some lounge chairs on the pool deck, and a concession stand selling ice cream. It was like a summer day from my childhood. 
In addition to that fun afternoon, the campground was nice and quiet that night. 

There was another local park next to a pool, but it rained all day that day and the last thing we wanted to do was get wet again. We did partake of the showers though, and they were also freezing. That night there was a spectacular sunset. 


At one public park in Colorado, we showered across the street at the community pool facility. This was a nice facility with lots of hot water. In addition to that, I borrowed swim goggles from a lifeguard and swam laps for 20 minutes. That was a nice way to decompress after a long day, and I enjoyed stretching out muscles I hadn't used in a long time. 
The campground that night was nice, but totally overrun by mosquitos. 

At a very nice, but very remote campground outside of Pueblo, CO, we overlooked Pueblo Lake, and saw the most beautiful sunset of the trip.


After one of the longest, hottest and most difficult rides of the trip, we spent two nights at a campground in Eminence, Mo. (thanks to a rest day.) This was on a small river, and we walked across the river (in knee deep water) to get to the bar/restaurant on the other side. The entrance to this campground was down a steep, pitted dirt road that nobody wanted to ride extra laps on in order to go into town. On the second night, there were severe thunderstorms with nearly hurricane force winds, lighting so frequent it looked like disco strobe lights, and the thunder rolled and echoed around the mountains with an eerie echo. 

We camped in several severe storms, and one particularly nasty wind storm in Kansas. In all of these, my tent has held up tremendously, and I've been so thrilled with the quality and durability. In one instance, we found my tent literally submerged in 3 inches of water. After being moved, nothing in the tent was wet or even damp. The tent held up like a champ. 
It's a Nemo brand, 'Espri 2 person' tent. I highly recommend Nemo, as everyone I've encountered with this brand has nothing but good things to say. 



(organized tent inside pic)

Not quite camping

There were a few places we had arranged that were not outside, but not really much more than a roof over our heads. These were often public or semi-public buildings opened to cyclists to spend the night. In one case it was the community center in a small, depressed town overrun by tumbleweeds. There, we celebrated 2000 miles with a nice sit down dinner that we prepared. 




In another case it was a nice building, but still just the basics; a bathroom, a kitchen and lots of floor space. In these cases we just claim our spot somewhere on the floor, blow up our sleeping pad and throw the sleeping bag on top. I'm not sure if this was better than sleeping in a tent, and in some cases I would have rather tented. But often the places were cooler than it was outside, or offered protection from the elements. 

There was a firehouse in a tiny town in Kentucky where it had been over 90 all day, we did an incredibly difficult 81 miles, and the place was wonderfully air conditioned. The shower had a tiny hot water tank, so everyone except the first person got an exceptionally cold shower, and still that was nice. The station itself was a good size, but between our group and a few other cyclists also crashing there, it was a bit crowded - with a cacophony of snoring all through the night. I set up my sleeping pad on the filthy kitchen floor and slept poorly. Even despite the heat, I think I would have slept better in my tent on the lawn outside. 
One perk of this place was that there was a washer and dryer in the shower room, and we were all happy to get all caught up on our laundry.  



Cyclist Hostels

Somewhere between 'hotel' and 'community center floor' we found another category of shelter called bicyclist hostels. I didn't know what to expect from these places, and certainly they varied in accommodations. 
For one thing, a lot of the community center floors and random churches we stayed at were billed as cyclist hostels, but I'm separating those out.
The first night in Missouri, there was a very nice hostel called "Al's Place" which was in an old jail in Farmington. This place had bunk-beds, nice showers, sofa and TV, and even laundry. It was by far the nicest non-hotel we stayed in on this trip. 






Another hostel was literally inside a bike shop in Newton, Kansas. This little shop was trying to recreate itself as *the* cyclist destination on the TransAm bike route. It did a lot of things right, but also got a lot of them wrong. But I got a bed to sleep in, and had no complaints. Others found space on the floor. There was no shower, so we had to walk over to the local fire station to shower there. 



Two other biker hostels were camping conditions. One was early in the trip, Hale Farm, we showered in his house and camped in his yard. A little farther down the line was 'Dave's Place' at a 'Historical Society' and was up the steepest hill ever, after a particularly long day. When I got there, exhausted and starving, Dave inundated me with questions the instant I arrived. We tented on a steep but terraced back yard. Dave made a spectacular breakfast for us the next morning. 





Churches

Surprising to me, we stayed at a number of churches that opened their doors to us and let us spend the night. 
The first of these was on the very first night of the trip, and that really caught me off guard. This was the Willis Church in Glendale, VA. This was the first night, and I didn't know what to expect. Some volunteers at the church made us a great pasta dinner. They had a nice shower for us, and even towel service. This was not to be the norm, but it was a good way to start the trip. Ironically, I was really itching to sleep in my tent, but instead I set up my sleeping pad in the nursery room.


There have been several more churches along the way. Mostly Presbyterian and Methodist. Despite the vast quantity of Baptist churches through the south and midwest, only one of them has hosted us. 

One churches early on was a little run down, and the floor was filthy. There was no shower there, but there were kitchen facilities and nice bathrooms for us to use. We rented a room at a seedy hotel across the street and took turns using the shower there. 

Anther church simply allowed us to camp on their back lawn. They had set up a camp shower, which was a hose attached to a shower head. There was a little shower room set up for this, so there was privacy, but the shower was freezing, and it was a cold day to begin with. I stood next to it and just splashed some water on me to wash the essentials. That night I slept very well, and woke up to hear coyotes howling in the distance. That morning I woke up to a terrific sunrise over the trees. 



At a rather nice presbyterian church, I was able to sneak off and find a room to myself. This was a fancy room with leather chairs and a nice oak table. There was wifi and a great shower. It poured like the biblical flood overnight, and we were all grateful to have a roof over our heads. Although we still had to venture out into the rain the next morning. (That was the day we rode into Damascus, if you want to read that story, check out the post The Road to Damascus.) 

Another night we stayed at a similarly nice church that was again gracious enough to open their doors to us and allow us to throw down our sleeping bags anywhere we liked. And again I managed to get a private room. At this place, they installed a shower in the boiler room. It was cramped moving around in the room, and the shower stall was 3 feet up off the floor, but the shower itself was glorious, after a long and particularly hot day. It's amazing how much a simple shower can improve my mood.

In Kansas, a relative of one of our riders had organized her church group to do a BBQ picnic for us at the city park where we were staying. That day was one of the windiest days of the trip, and when we got to camp the wind was still howling at up to 45 mph! We couldn't set up our tents in the open park, and even our bicycles were blowing over. The church moved the picnic to inside their building, and after some phone calls they also opened up their doors to us and let us spend the night. This was one of the best meals we had, the company was terrific, and I slept like a log, once again in the kindergarden room. 

The most recent (and possibly final) church we stayed at was by total dumb luck. We were supposed to stay in a community building (that none of us could actually find!) A friend of one of our riders had come out to ride with him that day, and had parked in a random church. We finished our ride, and he pulled a cooler of cold sodas out for us. As we were sitting in this church parking lot, a woman came out and talked to a few of us for a minute, then offered for us to stay there! They had nice showers, a big kitchen, and two big rec-rooms in the basement with lots of room for all of us. I threw my sleeping bag down on a long couch and slept very comfortably. 





Hotels

Lastly, we have stayed in several hotels along the way. This is usually when there are no camping or other options available. We have a limited budget, so of course we can't hotel it too often. Besides, my tent is starting to feel like home, so I kind of like sleeping in it. Still, you can't knock a nice bed, and easy access to the bathroom at night! 
Some of the hotels have been spectacular. One in particular in Breaks Interstate Park at the Virginia / Kentucky border was very nice, with a great bed and the best view I've ever had at a hotel. I would go back there for a vacation and stay at that hotel. 


We stayed at a very nice hotel in the mountains in Wyoming at Togwatee Pass. That night I took a 1/2 mile hike up to a scenic overlook and braved swarms of mosquitos in order to photograph the sunset over the mountains. Nobody wanted to go with me because of the walk and the bugs. I think it was worth it, and resulted in one of my favorite pictures of the trip. 




There have been some pretty low points too. We stayed at a roach motel in Kentucky where I definitely would have rather tented. And another time we stayed in 'cabins' at a horse camp in Eddyville, IL. These cabins were actually trailers, as in 'trailer park' trailers, and although there were beds, there were no sheets! I slept in my sleeping bag, on top of a slightly dirty mattress. 


There was a place that called itself a 'bike hostel' in Ordway, Colorado, but it was really a hotel. The rooms were nice and the beds were comfortable.  The proprietor served us dinner and it was a fantastic meat lasagna of a portion so large that nearly none of us could finish it!


There was a hotel in Hot Sulphur Springs, CO where the rooms were labyrinthine, with rooms off of rooms. It was comfy though, and there wasn't much else. We also stayed at a very nice Bed and Breakfast in Breckenridge, where I shared a tiny room and bunk beds with my buddy John. He snores like a freight train, but is very genial when I wake him up to tell him to roll over. 


And finally, there was a hotel in Jeffery City, Wyoming that didn't have enough rooms for all of us. So we rented one room to shower in, and camped in a gravel pit out front. When the sun went down and the wind died, a biblical plague of mosquitos came out. One of our riders said of the place; "I have stayed in some $###holes in my life, and I can tell you with some authority, this is indeed a $###hole."
He was not wrong. But, I had a shower and a place to lay my head. And after that, it's all part of the adventure I signed up for! From hotels with a spectacular view, to a $###hole in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, and everywhere else in-between, this has been an amazing and interesting adventure indeed!