Tour de fin

Hello to everyone still looking at this summer time journey. The trio wanted to say Thank you! to everyone who treated us as their own. And to encourage future flashes to the blog, I am sure we will update the rest soon. Once the pictures are distributed and we all put in our two cents. I (Luke) am now back in Athens and living life as it seems nothing spectacular had just happened to me, but it was. I learned so much about human nature and myself, I can't seem to find the old me. Athens has become a known stranger and an intrusive ear upon my life, I need the road to make me feel normal. I am sure it will all subside with time but until then I let our blogging family know how the trips end has effected me.

Miles: In any direction

Morale: Wonderfully passing time waiting for the next novelty.

Day 51: War Monk!

The day began slowly with Nick bursting wide awake, cold but sweaty, inside of Sam's sleeping bag. Mind racing too fast for sleep to catch up, he sat down by the riverside studying the riveting vocabulary words of the GRE so that he may one day rule the absurd standardized test that effectively proves how much mundane information and pointless patterns one can learn so that they may be lucky enough to take part in the US system of masters level education. Ugh, maybe I'll move to Europe.

Eventually Sam and Luke yawned awake, and we trudged down to the Longstar's greasy overpriced and unsatisfying buffet. At least we got to watch the US men's basketball and water polo teams school the Chinese. Such a heavy meal resulted in such greasy hair, that I decided to shave it allllll off. Not just a buzz, a mach3 to the scalp is what we're talking about. So we went down to the river behind the generous chapel (that let us use their shower) and hacked away. Sam cut and buzzed the head and Luke's deft hand razored it smooth.

(Old hacked head)

With that we went back to the Dirty Dirty Shame saloon, BBQed and took off down the riverside hills to the Emmet Reservoir. Perfect place to camp it was, and to test fighting skills. There was a nice little temple-like shelter house that fit my new monkish look and I presided over the battle that sparked between Luke and Sam.

(Not as mean as I look:])

(Sam has had enough of Luke's lip)

(Luke slaps, Sam jabs!)

Worn out from the fight, Luke and I sat down to a romantic setting sun with a bottle of mixed red wine on reservoir dock while Sam learned more about the evil side of humanity from a friend back home in Athens. Before a brokeback scene burst out of Luke and I some older middle schoolers/young high schoolers in white tee shirts jumped off the dock and swam over for us to pull them out, hahaha smirks resulted from the silliness. Little girls gone, a drunk old fiftysomething fisherman roared his boat in, lent us some smoke, beer, good cheer and went on his way.

(Goodnight sun)

A Red beans/rice/sourkraut/noodles/kimchee dinner set us straight and we pushed off into the bushes to camp where there is "NO OVERNIGHT CAMPING!"

Day 50 : Hot Springs and Coppenhagen Pies

We awaken to the soothing powers of the Bonneville hot springs. Nick rises early to photographically archive the springs and study GRE vocabulary (sometimes he can be so masochistic), while Luke and I find a good 3 hours of soaking and talking philosophy with our newly befriended Michael from Boise. Nick cooks a delicious meal of oatmeal which was quickly devoured and greatly appreciated as the only true addition of sustenance to our hot spring stimulant buffet: Copenhagen snuff, Yerba Mate, Coffee, and Bugler Rollies. After breakfast we sluggishly gear up and head out, Luke unknowingly leaves his camera behind, and consequentially we are down to only Nick’s photographic ability, which is well seasoned but with limited mobility, seeing that he shoots a large Cannon Powershot.

(above: summer's possessions strewn about)

(below: Sam shields the sun in morning bath preparation)

Beginning the day positioned some 4,300 vertical feet above the level sea; we descend a few hundred feet over the next 8 miles and come to a restaurant. There, Luke and I order the fish and chips while Nick orders the old standby, hamburger and Idahoan fresh-cut freedom fries. The beer-battered fried cod was delicious, however unfortunate for us, they were running low and we were only rationed 2.5 small pieces. The waitress apologized and lowered the priced fetched. We spent a good 7 television shows (3.5 hours) eating, digesting, finding new reading material at the bathroom- book exchange, and drawing the amorous attention of several employees and customers, including a beautiful Maldovian waitress named Maria.

(below: Luke scribbling before lunch)

Departing from lunch at 5:00 P.M. , we continue descending through some majestic mountains toward our final destination of Crouch Idaho. Upon arrival in Crouch we spot a weekend bar-b-que at the Dirty Shame Saloon. It is there where today’s second disappointing culinary truth is revealed: no BBQ chicken left. We, however, find much solace in the BBQ beef and hamburgers, and then I proceed to order a piece of Blueberry pie; the slice was huge, a full quarter of the pan. After sampling my dessert, Luke quickly orders himself a quarter pie. The bartender ends up gifting us the remaining half of blueberry pie and doesn’t charge us for the previous half. We move our full bellies across the road to a ostensibly abandoned Sunday school building and our bodies slip snuggly into our sleeping bags. ZZZZZZZ……

(below: the machines resting 15 miles from Crouch
with the Idahoan terrain in the background)

(below: beautiful Payette river)


(below: Luke and Sam wait all so patiently for the BBQ on the newly built outdoor bar at the Dirty Shame Saloon)

morale.
headwind counteracting the downslope with blueberry pie and Jameson panacea: pretty good
miles: 44

Day 49 - Clepto clouds steal early morning sunshine

We saw the rain coming last night, and yes it lightly glazed everything within a 10 mile radius, a mountain rain. Fortunately for us the rain ceased and the stars glared for the reamainder of the night for our seven thousand foot slumber. Come morning light we see low flying clouds that glow brightly but chill our crawl from polyester cocoons. Slowly to breakfast and even slower towards our chariots of steel and rubber. A nice bakery, more a face bakery, really just another restaurant facade giving the yuppie tourist something "natural" and "healthier." Maybe I am being a littlt too harsh, but these tourists rings are wildly expensive and shameful. I digress, we load the cycles and hit the road, after that summit yesterday we feel the downhills coming. Now with the sun on our faces and rain a lost memory, only the second good rain we have seen all summer, the road an easy story entertains us for awhile but antsy pants grow tight and itchy
when we are surround by hundreds of hot springs.

After yesterday and our first real expirience with a natural hot spring our souls are eager and muscles are weary to see as many as we can. With Sam's lupus like symptoms we have time to stop early. Bonneville campsite, located convieniently on warm spring creek we seek hot water and pools of mineral rich tubs. Finding exactly that we break down to the skinny and submerge. Like most of our endevours, we over take the pool and run the joint for quite some time. As usual some brave soul has the undying desire to find out what the hell these three dudes are up to and we find someone, who, being of similar demographics almost seems like he came with us from Athens. Just a traveler of both time and space, first and last time I will quote Led Zepplin, his name is Michael and we have hours of conversation and a few good meals to share with one another.

Up late and wrinkled like prunes we drag our bikes about a quarter mile down a hiking trail and set out our reverse map of the stars and lay to the tune of rushing waters and a light breeze. Goodnight moon, even if you are only partly there.

Miles: some distance from Stanley

Morale: We like this place anymore and we become campground bums. Sell the bikes and wish home a happy future.

Day 48: Of Bald Cats and Diapers

The Challis tennis court served us well. Nick arose before all and sent off some frantic emails with wireless stolen from outside the bar window. Not much eventfulness until we sped out of the arid mountains about Challis and did some handstands (well Nick did some half handstands) and swam in the Salmon River at a state park. All handstanded out, we spun out of the park and into the most intense thunderstorm we ridden through yet. A huge gust blew Nick off the road and he gracefully skidded onto the ground with an energetically lunatic smile. We gripped harder and pushed on until a bridge (thankfully no trolls underneath) offered us shelter until torrents subsided.

(Arid mountains)

(Wet refreshing river)


(Dried up homestead)

Next hour consisted of Sam speeding away at 20 miles an hour, Nick trying his darndest to catch up on an empty stomach and hammer gel, and Luke falling behind after a 15 minute Sinclair visist. The aridity began to moisten as we climbed a few hundred feet. We even got some forest and the landscape quickly outdid Yellowstone .

(Perty river with trees)

(More lovely river)

Some fifteen miles later, I found Sam stopped in awe over the chocolate brown waters pouring out of a creek into the Salmon River. Apparently some fire had swept through the area up the creek and a microburst (flash flood) from the recent day's storming caused a huge landslide that donated tons of mud into the creek.

(The creek runs brown)

(Churning of the chocolate)

(The rat-tailed mustache gazes in awe)

(The mountains of Stanley)

One peanut butter and jelly later I (Nick) split from the rest of the gang and the diarrhea creek to spark some phone chats in the city of Stanley before it got too late in cbus. Apparently, Luke and Sam managed to land themselves in some hot springs for three hours, cope'n and a lookin’ good for the hot springers while Nick ate some viciously greasy and stomach churning fish and chips under the beautiful montaine tourist town known as Stanley, ID. Come 9 o’clock after some serious facebooking, heartfelt chats, cigarettes and beer Nick delightedly observed Sam and Luke strutting into the bar from their hot baths. The night eventually led to a few more beers and a slew of knee knocking jokes from a vulgarly wild and agile local named Tim and his super short shorts and creepily affectionate 60 year old best friend Kim who says, “life’s a bitch and then we have to live it…and we live it!” with a big smile:]. For the sake of PC, I won't relay Tim's jokes...

A lot of 60 some year old hip shaking acting ensued until the bar tender had enough and pushed us out the door so that we could fall asleep on in the grass in the middle of Stanley’s no camping zone. Dreams were silent and the morning rain sparked a euphoric rebirth.

Day 47 : Just like Nori (Japanese Red Alga) in the Wind

(above: Nick and Luke gearing up)

We rose late something like 10:00 and after input and output we hit the road sometime around 1:00. More like we set sail; there was an anomalaeic ( root: anomaly) tailwind, blowing a good 15 mph from the Southeast.

(below: Luke sails northward.
Believe it or not, he is wearing pants)

( below: beautiful mountains to our east)

(below: Borah Peak- the highest peak in Idaho)

Wind assistance afforded us the privilege of traveling some 20 miles in 60 minutes, at which time an opposing force (gravity) from the 5% graded hill of 5 miles took our velocity back down to 7 mph. Please, let me save you the trouble of roughly calculating the vertical gain from the aforementioned numbers; we gained approximately 1,000 feet. At the summit of the pass (7,200 ft.) we stopped for some pb and j’s on marbled rye.

(below: Luke rests in front of the previously traversed terrain)

(below: Nick steadies the bike in preparation for PBJ)

After the pass, we descended some 2,000 more feet and arrived in Challis, Idaho 3.5 hours later. First stop was a kitchy-ass RV lobby with some mediocre milkshakes and the bum news that they would charge us $26 for pitching our tent. We then proceeded to check out the public library, which was hot, sticky, and lackluster—we didn’t get much blogging accomplished. We then road down to the bar and grill filling up on burgers, beer, and the eventual chess game.

(below: entering the canyon 12 miles south of Challis)

(below: Luke making moves. *note: professinal board)

Miles. 48

Morale. Slumpy, Lumpy, but eventually level

Day 46 : Make Way for Mackay

mArco polo, well we found it and with glowing smiles ate of it’s bosom and pickles. That was yesterday; today we found that luck is much more than Irish. Getting an early move on Sam wakes and quakes before everyone else, his quakes are the rushing of air into his trachea as he sleeps and last night it sounded suspiciously like a Tesla coil. With breakfast burning the last to awake, me as always, we pack up and with our new heading given to us by the premier dog sled champion of the world ranked only under one other, slap rubber to pavement. It’s a new breakfast filled with Quaker lies and betrayal. After buying a box of their new “All Natural” pecan hot cereal we grow excited at trying something so seemingly cheap and at the exact same time good for you? Let’s see how this turns out, first off the box is filled with other smaller packets, so much for their plea to create less waste and then it donned upon us to read the ingredients closer. What do we find, Christ the corporation just don’t quit, “Natural spices” if anyone has ever looked into yuppie eating styles they know “Natural spices” is totally a cop out, it’s just another way of saying we are going to feed you what ever we want and your just going to sit there groovin’ on it. My hats off to you Quaker, you pulled one over on us, we admit, but not again we’ll keep our eyes peeled.

Back to the main subject our forsaken trek across endless sage brush. Our humming tires roll us across some beautiful landscapes and deserted towns, and by the way there are a lot of real estate agents out here, so I guess if you’re looking for land that offers nothing but mountains to all sides of you, your best bet would be Idaho. Anyway we make it to Makay a nice town with about half the population of Arco and ten times as nice, with much to our surprise we ride in to the wonderful little eunuch on a white bicycle directing our kind, cyclists, to stay in such lane to be safe and guided to our destination.

Well that little he/she takes us right to another hamburger, shake joint and by god do we indulge. So many quirky names for a hamburgers here; well I could go into some made up names and really entertain but we can save that for the revision stage. But we eat and fill, then with quite the annoying waitress who claims to have seen us in Arco continues to assure us their burgers are much better than the joint down the street. We trust her judgment but not her kosher got dogs. After exhausting our welcome with attained directions the library is not far from our future. Blogging ensues and that’s all I need to tell you about, oh just one thing, the library was a wonderful place to do everything we needed. If every library were like that we would not have fallen behind on days. Blogging finished and our bellies ready for more the trio hits up the other burger shake joint in town and long story short almost exactly the same and come to find out the workers have the ability to put both places down as references for their future endeavors into the work force. On the road again (Nelson, uhh… not sure what year) and only a few miles down the way, a beautiful campsite is acquired, a lake is bathed in and sleep is found with open arms and heavy eyelids.

Miles: 31

Morale: Sinister shakes stir controversy in small Idaho town.

UPDATE THE D@#N BLOG!

Readers.
Trio here.

Today is Tuesday August 5th, , our 46th day of riding. We are sitting in a public library in Mackay, Idaho working on the blog after a good meal. I know many of you probably thought we were either run over by a Mack truck, found three Russian wives had children and started a commune in Wyoming, rented a Uhaul and are now at the Pacific coast, or simply quit. However close any of those situations came to becoming reality, here we are, 2,300 miles from home having a blast grinding out the last few weeks of the trip.
The blog is now some 16 days behind and we see a few things standing in our way. First of all we set an enormously high standard of travel journalism for the first 30 days, trying hard to take you along on the journey with us. This extensive documentation was arduous but realistically accomplished when we were traveling through the more heavily populated regions of the Midwest and plains; there were more public libraries who were more accommodating to our needs, plus our energy level was higher. Since being in Wyoming we have seen many less people (500,000 state total), and thus less libraries. Also, we have been taking our sweet time experiencing the landscape conversing on philosophy and taking a more introverted introspection –spending more of our dwindling energy experiencing the trip than documenting it.
This aside, we have been feeling a little lame for not keeping up with the high standard we set. Yesterday we attempted to blog at the Arco public library, but could not find our muse considering the non-condusive environment; 30 minutes at the computer with one 30 minute extension ($5) was all a person was allowed to do in a day. This left us perplexed. How do we catch up with 15 days of blog without sacrificing quality? We spent a good time discussing our options, figuring out what our goals were in writing the blog: wanting to take you readers on a journey and the resultant ego boost to have a captivated following, and the personal documentation, a skeleton for our eventual book . We contemplated just stopping the blog now, or writing a more watered down version. If you haven’t gathered yet, none of us view quiting as a very desirous solution to any problem.
We decided that we are going to start blogging about yesterday and continue to keep the present days up to date, while we catch up on the lagging 15 days. Every night a member of the trio will sit down with the laptop and compose a blog entry offline. Those compositions will be saved in the harddrive waiting to be uploaded for your reading pleasure once we secure internet connection. Today you can read about yesterday, and slowly you will notice the appearance of the missing days 30-45. The days should be in chronological order, so you will see them appear before the current day. If the strategy works, the longest lull you will experience should be at most a few days.

Prepare yourselves for a good ride through Wyoming, Idaho and Oregon.
Thanks so much

(Our progress from Denver, CO to Arco, ID. Blogger would not allow for a horizontal orientation, so rotate it 90 degrees clockwise)

Day 45: The Nucleus of Nuclear

We awoke (well, Nick awoke) just 100 feet from the government’s nuclear playgrounds, and upon a quick self examination with no noticeable new lumps I took off into the dried up riverbed next to the rest stop. The river (known as the Lost River because all the waters have been gobbled up for agriculture ) was partially fenced off, and after reading that I could be jailed up to 3 years and fined $100,000 for treading upon the sacred atomic grounds, I jumped in…

(The Lost River bed)

The river was rather pathetic, the only trees within twenty miles were barely hanging on, and it seriously looked like something trying to rebound from a nuclear disaster. My time was short however, as a raptor kept dive bombing me and drove it away from its nesting tree.

(Defensive bird in it's dead tree)

Back at the rest stop I stomped around the concrete so as to wake the sleeping Luke and Sam so we could get to Arco to start blogging, they tiredly ignored the effort and arose perturbed an hour later. Meanwhile, I treked over to the information sign and learned that we were situated amidst the densest accumulation of nuclear reacters in the world. How fun!

(Rest stop campspot)

We made it to Arco (the first city in the world to be powered by nuclear) by 12pm and headed straight into the heavily advertized Pickle's Place for some mediocre burgers and milkshakes. Luck struck well in the dilled cucumber, as seated next to us was the world’s 2^nd most prestigious active dogsledder and his wife. They concernedly advised that we not continue on our hellacious path throughout the barren wasteland known as the Snake River Plain, but instead, turn into the montaine-riparian Eden to the north.

(Pickle's Place, the atomic burger left a weak impression)

By 1pm the library found us strutting in its doors. A daycare with books and computers would be a more apt description than "library", as the librarian was tending her 2 year old and numerous elementary schoolers who had nothing better to do than to tend their webkinz. The computers had an absurd usage policy: 30 minutes free, $5.00 for a full hour, one hour limit per day…HAHAHA so much for getting any blogging done. I managed to upload pictures with the laptop until 5pm and then stumbled over to the Arco High School’s front yard, where I collapsed and shared some smoked oysters, canned chilli and rerfried beans with 'ole Sammo and Lukester. A heated discussion about the blog situation ensued, we were 15 days behind and getting behind’er fast. What to do!?!? Well, we decided to get better at being more diligent. Then we threw our tarp out under a tree in the city park and drifted off to dreamland.

Day 36: Big Buffalo Bill

The alley behind the church slept us well, and after a groggy rise we feasted on the Best Western’s continental breakfast buffet. MMMMmmmm, well that’s a little forced but I won’t complain about free food. Nick’s (my) flat tire hadn’t been fixed by God’s miraculous mechanical hand during our stay on his holy turf so I took off pushing my bike to the bicycle shop while Sam and Luke snuck into the showers at one of the city campgrounds. A few hours later we were on the road out of the tourist trap known as Cody, WY…to the ever generous Wal-Mart…and then up through the canyon to Yellowstone.

( tourist bar)

(Sam getting the heck out of Cody)

The canyon ended up being mostly underwater as it was damned up many a year ago for irrigation purposes, but the bit you can see from the road is breathtaking. The damn that makes the Buffalo Bill Reservoir marks the end of the canyon and we stopped at the visitor’s center and numbed our brains to a terribly composed documentary about the damn’s construction. In short, construction was delayed, many times, a few decades later it was finally finished.

(Luke tunneling through the mountains near the Reservoir)

(Luke gazing into the non-damed part of the canyon)

(The damed canyon)

(Sam braving the windy hell screaming out of Yellowstone)

We got back on the road and were met by a wind from hell. A few miles past the reservoir we could take no more, so we found a very classy abandoned restaurant and lounged on the porch eating sardines and peanut butter. A strange thing happened soon after our arrival; a middle aged man stormed into the driveway. After a few awkward moments of looking at us his music blaring he jumped out ;a quart of milk and a nice Nikon dslr in hands. He jumped some more, excited about something, said he was some ex-marine from Tennessee on a mission out West, delightfully told us we were stupid and then showed me his pictures. They were terrible, pointless poorly framed landscape and flowerpot shots that could have been better composed by a 7 year old with a disposable 35mm. I assume he stole the camera. He then jumped back in his car for something, but not before putting the milk on the car roof, which was subsequently blown over by the wind and spilled all over his head as he re-emerged from the driver’s seat. Looking perplexed he noticed a truck pulling in the driveway, jumped back in his car and peeled away.

(Lounging in our motel room )

The guy in the truck indifferently shrugged off the crazy man and told us he owned the place (and the hotel next door). We eventually asked if we could camp in the motel yard, the management stoutly declined, and instead suggested that we stay in a room for free! Yippeee. A few hours later we had clean clothes, clean bodies, warm beds and dreams in our heads.

(Festing on delightful mac, cheese and beans)

(Mister moustache (Luke) is ready for bed)

Brief blog update

Hi all you eager and frustrated blog readers! We are in Idaho Falls, ID safe and sound, but didn't get to blogging today as promised. We'll shoot for Monday in Arco, ID, so everything should be caught up by Monday evening.

cheerio,
nick

The posts are still out of order

The posts are still out of order, but don't despair; after 2 weeks of brainstorming we have presumably discovered a preventative cure. For now you will have to dig for a streaming chronology. Next post they will be organized neatly. Today we are up to day 30, look for it.

word.

Day 29: heads winds subside, as karaoke picks up

(above: our most exhilarating morning view, consisting of cow pies and a little green tent damp with dew)

Maeaaaah (moo) What the hell was that? Well of course it was cow, which must be standing right next to the tent. Camping in cowpie wastelands comes with an early waking. We rise and make a quick breakfast of the remaining oats dressed up for the 8th grade dance: peanut butter, dried bananas, molasses, and crunchy wheat berries.

After breakfast we quickly begin climbing; only 5 miles from the Wyoming border we climb from 7,000 feet to 7,800 . A few miles south of the border we find a rest station to fill our bottles, trim the mustaches, chat with elderly folk, and play with prairie dogs.

(below: during the early morning climb we witness beauty)

(below: Luke feeds an adventurous prairie dog

Call him Dr. Doolittle or the Dog Whisperer, Luke sure has a way with animals;
I would argue more refined than his way with women.)

(below: Wyoming wildflowers fill the foreground in front of the high peaks of the rockies. Our elevation 8,100 ft)

(this certainly is a welcome sign, even with the bullet holes)

Shortly after the picture above we descend the 1,000 feet gain over 20 miles as we approach Laramie. The only thing we knew about Laramie was from the massive press coverage of the brutal murder of Matthew Shepphard in the late 90's. He was a homosexual man who went to the University of Wyoming and was killed because he was gay. Of course we didn't assume that Laramie was a town full of bigots, but it is interesting how powerful an event like that shapes people's assumptions and fears about a place, especially for small towns that would otherwise quietly stay out of the news.

We ate lunch in Laramie at a local restaurant and brewery by campus called the Library. How annoying; must every college town have a bar called the library? "Don't lie to mom, tell her you are at the library." Annoying names aside, the food and beers were delicious. After the sustenance, we headed to the public library to cool down and creepily browse facebook: our x-girlfriend's friends' friends' friends pictures from last winter break, you know how it goes.

The [public] library closes at 5:00 on Fridays. We hit the road shortly after and head 40 miles into mostly flat and windy Wyoming. The traffic has thinned noticeably since Laramie and we start to feel the low population density as we press on to the next town, Rock River.

(Wyomings more flat side. The Laramie Mtn. Range on the eastern horizon)

(below: breaking for snacks by the railroad running parallel with the highway)

We reach Rock River (population 200) by dusk with empty water bottles. Upon arrival we stop at the post office to try and milk their spicket; unfortunately they have removed the handle, undoubtedly to stave off the western water poachers. My needle nose pliers won't turn the spicket, so we press on to the bar down the road.

At the bar, we are greeted with many inquisitive but benign looks. We order a couple of Budweisers and a pizza. We didn't even have the chance to ask folks where to camp before we are approached by a friendly fellow name Forest. Forest tells us that he lives a block away and we are welcome, and highly encouraged to come down and stay at his place. He offers us his 5th wheel camper for the evening. We gladly accept, and although we all are pretty tired and eager to curl up with some literature and get a good nights rest, we get reeled into the bar scene for another night as the karaoke machine insistently hummed. We are on the floor singing for 80% of the remaining 4 hours of bar light, doing everything from Thoroughgood to Yes to AC-DC.

Eventually the evening ended and we had to settle up at the bar. Forest quickly told the bartendress to put it on his tab. Free booze, pizza, and entertainment. I guess the entertainment was our reciprocical input and we had a glad time entertaining the laid-back country folk of Rock River. After the bar we retired back to the fifth wheel, but not before Forest and company filled our bellies with an early breakfast-- breakfast burritoes at 2:00 am.

Thanks Rock River. Thank you Forest, Susan, Mary-Anne, Ken, Rick, Alexandria, and Victoria (even though your lazy ass didn't show up until noon), Freckles, and the ominous Midnight.
You guys treated us as family or at least close companions. Thanks for the food, spirits, and tour de France.

miles: 70
morale: so high we wobble a little when trying to stand up and converse at 2:00 am

Day 30 - Something blows in Wyo.

(The whole clan at Rock River and behind us the great Wyoming vastness)
Well, here we are again thirty days and still no flats as some would say. Great finds are great finds, last nights find was loud, liquidy and protein. All the singing one could handle we take the wrap party back to the camper. Waking up in Forrest's fifth wheel we knew more protein was short to follow. Not a bad nights sleep but a fairly short nights sleep. The morning drags as we all scuffle towards the shower in the back and one by one we all clean off those karaoke scars still apparent on our faces. With coffee and growling bellies we file away our breakfast under protein, with pancakes. Greasy and it's gravy, good, eggs and sausage. Wyoming has been pretty surprising thus far, after the snowball effect ending with showers and breakfast we are offered free roam of their house when the whole clan run off to their weekly trip to Laramie. After lazily gathering everything together and getting up the gumption to be off, oh shit! Luke has lost his sunglasses and Nick can't seem to find his right glove. They both leave Sam to his waiting and begin the search for both the eyes and hands lost in Rock River midnights. Without luck the trio traverse on into the North towards Casper.















( 25 mph headwind)

Long nights turn into long days, when your on someone else schedule but today it's our appointment to go as far as we need. The wind holding us to about a two and half hour seventeen miles we stop in Medicine bow to refuel and work out the aggravation. A nice little town with more rooms to offer in the local Virginian hotel than population of voting age. Snacks and ice cream are all it takes and we are ready to get in the face for another thirty or so miles. But wait, we have an interested party, let's see how this turns out. Turns out he was a friendly and offered us a place to crash if we would like, being we didn't leave Rock River until threeish we were already willing to cut it short because of the twenty five mile per hour headwind. We talk and exchange stories for awhile and Brad, his name, offers us his living room for the night. Hesitantly we take his number and he's off to get ready for an all night poker game. After a few minutes of convincing each other this wind is going to kill us or we are going to kill one another, with phone in hand Nick makes the call, about three minutes after Brad is half way down the highway. Well, he comes back and give us directions to his place.














(Picture us, the trio living the life in Medicine Bow)

We get moved in, in our vagabond fashion moving in takes nothing but ten minutes. Brad gives us the magic words, make yourself at home, being the bashful three we are the bathroom and kitchen are taken over by dirty bodies and dinner. With the night quiet and much needed talk between the trio, conversations have a tendency to lack any breadth or interest when trying to keep seventeen miles per hour. With a short day under the belt buckles of Wyoming's newest heterosexual love trio we plan a long day to Casper and hit the sack..... good dreams and snoring ensue.

Thank you Brad.
You are so rad.


Miles: 17

Morale: Save happiness for another day.

Day 28: Mountain Men

The morning after the night on Ft. Collins found us groggy and waking up in the wrong yard. No hassles though, so we packed up and headed back toward Colorado's big version of uptown Athens, OH. The silver spoon diner treated us to a delicious breakfast with endless hashbrowns! and then we took off to our favorite All-American icon, Wal-Mart:) Bags packed with partially organic cliff bars and spirits riding high on Bolthouse juice we struck off on the Ft. Collins bike path with Laramie in mind.

(Luke pictured below, cruising alongside the Poudre River)

Well, the whole trip everyone has been warning us of the vicious hills that will attack us with energy sapping climbs and steep grades. We got a hint of them as we left Ft. Collins, though they weren't nearly as bad as everyone has made out. Most of our ride has been through valleys with climbs that are nowhere near the extent of the mountains standing proud on both sides of us.

(Nick approaches the crest of the day's most difficult climb and Luke descends back into a valley, respectively pictured below.)

(The trio break alongside the highway; Luke sleeps while Nick studies map.)

A few miles after our roadside break we rolled into Livermore, a little town consisting of a restaurant. Outside on the picnic table was an inquisitive older fellow with three teeth. He was shocked that would ride our bikes so far and flat out told us we were wasting our lives. He could get us to Oregon in one day he says, and swears that we will regret spending so much of our young lives trivially pedaling across the West. He then explains that he's never been East of the Mississippi and asks us with a curious caution about what it's like out there in eastern mountains...We politely entertained him for a few minutes and went on our way.

A few miles more found us a lot farther away from Laramie, WY than we expected so we decided to call it a night in Virginia Dale, CO, the town closest to the border. Haha, we thought it was a town! Turns out it consists of a closed post office and two ranches set in the most beautiful and dramatic scenery we'd seen.

(Luke peddling into Virginia Dale with some pretty rocks behind him)

In search of land to lay down a tent (more in search of permission, there were thousands of vacant acres about us) we trudged down the road off the highway to the first of the two ranches in town. We kept trudging, and trudging, almost decided to turn back, but trudged some more, and finally got to the Table Mountain ranch entrance. "No Trespassing, survivors prosecuted", it said. So we put some skip in our step and hurried down to the next ranch.

(Table Mountain Ranch sign from the highway, path to the ranch, and forbidding ranch entrance pictured below.)

(Sam and Luke; puzzled and calling upon the mountain gods for advice.)

(Sunset in the mountains.)

On our way to the next ranch, we spotted a little house tucked away off the ranch access road. The owner knew the rancher well, and told us there was an old Stage Station near the ranchers house and that we could camp there. He called, told the rancher of our approach and gave us the go ahead. We made it to the old stage station by dusk (read sign in next picture for stage station description) got out of our sweaty spandex and started up our anchovie/tomato paste pasta.

(Virginia Dale, stagecoach sanctuary back in the 19 century)

Just before we got the tent out the rancher came to say his hellos. He was a bit cold though and asked us to where we were going tonight. "Ummm, here", we responded "the guy up the road called and you said we could camp here". He took a step back and explained that we ain't got permission to camp here and we best be on our way. Well damn. The sun had pretty much set and now we had to pack up and find someone else to let us camp amongst their countless acres of nothingness. I guess we looked pathetic enough though, cause the rancher gave in and let us camp in his cow pasture a mile back down the road.

An hour later, with annoyed cows mooing at us, we slipped into the tent and drifted into dreams of Wyoming at 8000 ft..

(The mustached three, primed and ready for bed)

mileage . 37
morale. an awestruck tired-perturbedness

Day 27: Hiatus ceases as we brave the heat

We rose early to the sounds of Lowell and Fletcher Pepple around 7:00 and were greeted to Scott's tantalizing oatmeal creation--toasted pecans, frozen raspberries (dual function; sweeten + cool) and honey. After some sad goodbyes, we headed across town to Zach's apartment, our de facto crash pad and bike shop; Zach and his wife Audrey had to leave for work by 8:15, so we were sure to arrive a little after 8:00. We said a few more sad goodbyes as they headed off to work and cleaned up our sprawling mess of road debris and greasy footprints.

(Below: Luke pickin up the pieces. Notice the beautiful green wall. I love it.)

By 10:45 we were on the busy-Denver roads making our way north. This was our first time all trip that we would be heading due north. The front range was only 20-30 miles to our west as we traveled to Ft. Collins, and I was a little anxious (somewhat positively and negatively) because of the horror stories of to the wall sprawl that paved a linear path northward from Pueblo, Colorado along the front range. This was the first time that we were riding through such a densely populated region since east of the Mississippi; of course a welcome change for food and water but not without the headache of increased traffic and the chance of being smashed by a hydrocarbon chariot.


I have mentioned to a few of my friends and counterparts about the anticipated ontological shift that was symbolized by Denver. Denver was close to halfway in mileage, the end of midwest and plains, the start of a northwesternward deviation into the Rocky mountains, and finally a break where we could recharge with friends and family. People often ask why we began in the east and headed west, considering that we would be traveling into the wind and uphill. Luke summed it up poignantly, "Starting out west, we would never leave". The west is a new and stimulating force. Every mile we travel west is the furthest west that Luke or Nick have ever traveled, and my few explorations in the west have always been in brevity. Although we have been in the mountain timezone since the beginning of Colorado, post-Denver is the what we truly consider the west.

The riding today was hot, a little stressful (considering all the traffic), but all worth the trouble because of the soul-satiating entity that is the New Belgium Brewery (the bike and environmentally friendly brewery in Ft. Collins-- makers of the well known Fat Tire Amber Ale, which I have seen on tap as far east as Chicago). The tasting room was set to close at 6:00 and opened at 10:00 the following morning. Seeing that we could not realistically enjoy ourselves at 10:00 in the morning we had quite the incentive to pedal hard. We pulled into the brewery at 5:57. (below)

Although they close their doors at 6:00, we were still allowed to try four beers and were given stickers, bottle openers, a 22 oz brew for the road, and prepaid postcards. We were allowed to hang out in the tasting room until a little before 7:00; the employees were really cool and very interested in our trip.

(below: New Belgium workers gaze into the map.
Notice the weight on the left side of the map--a cassette)

(Below: cruising through the malty terrain of NB land)

Outside of the brewery, at their extensive and overflowing bikeracks, we encountered several visitors and employees who had many questions and words of encouragement. We met one distinguished fellow named Scott, a recently hired New Belgium, front-range, events coordinator; he escorted us to a good fish taco restaurant and then diligently found a yard for us to camp in. After the fish tacos, we headed over to the Town Pump (purportedly one of the oldest continuously running bars in Ft. Collins). There, Scott introduced us to some of his NB cohorts and his lady friend/bartendress Heather.

(Below:Scott escorting us on his fixed ride.)

(Below: Lukester chatting it up with the folks on the Town Pump patio)

(Below: Heather gazes at our route. The map really gets a lot of attention.)

(Below: An enthused passerby poses with Sam.
This town loves cyclists, especially ones with panniers)

Fort Collins left a good taste in our mouths. Thanks Scott and the entire NB crew. We will evangelize our love for your beer and your values across the U.S.

cheers


mileage . 70
morale. drunk and happy

Mappy Mappy

Above. Map of Progress up until yesterday.
The Exacto knife indicates the beginning of Kansas.

Howdy.

It has been a little while since we left you with a good cartographic depiction of our location. So... I decided to take a picture and show you. Today, we are in Laramie Wyoming at the Albany County Public Library. We made it to Ft. Collins Wednesday night and headed out for Laramie yesterday. After a little too much fun in Ft. Collins, and the unforeseen mountains in our path to Laramie, we only road 37 miles yesterday. Today we conquered the mountains, descended in Laramie, ate too much lunch, and now shortly we will leave for 39 more miles to Rock River. The map doesn't have today's travels drawn in. If you want to follow our progress on Google maps, maps.google.com, we will continue on Hwy 287 until tomorrow when we hit the town of Medicine Bow. At that time we will head north to Casper, WY on 487 and then 220.


Anyway.

we will hopefully resume the descriptive blogging Sunday night or Monday morning.

Cheers
Trio.

Hello and Goodbye from Denver

Howdy folks.

Today, Wednesday July 16 at 12:50 Mountain time we finally have the blog back up to date, at least up until we made our arrival in Denver. As Luke mentioned on Day 26, we would not be blogging extensively about our time in Denver because we need the down time and we had to play catch up on the previous 6 days of blog.

Anyway. We have been having a great time in Denver and will be leaving this morning (day 27) around 10:00, riding 60 miles to Fort Collins Colorado.

Below are pictures of the Denver hiatus through Sam's Nikon lens.

Zach (Sam's brother and Denver host) shows the trio the view
from the apartment building's communal patio.

Luke releases some queer inner skier jacked up on cocaine

Heading out to drive around in the mountains and gain a couple
thousand feet of elevation.

first stop was Red Rocks Amphitheater, looking east.

Echo lake at 11,000 feet


Making the descent we see all kinds of brave cyclists


Cookout map showoff. Thank you all for making
the cookout so damn good. Good food, good people.


Zach singing Beck's Nicotine and Gravy, while
sporting his newly fashioned mustache. Join the club!


Luke and Nick priming .

Living quarter's /bike shop


Nick and Luke pose at a stoplight. Biking round
the city was a treat. No panniers.The illustrious Lowell Pepple. My cousin.

Well, our time here has been very relaxing and fun-filled. We owe a lot of people thanks. Scott and Bronwyn Pepple. You guys have been tremendously gracious and we love you. Zach Pepple. Thanks for everything. Love you brother. Hopefully soon we will post a picture of the map. Damn has that line lengthened.


Cheers
SAM

Day 26 - No Colors allowed

(Sam losing his pedal)

Abruptly stirred from our slumber with what interestingly seems like falling limbs and stones turns out to be three little heathens up too early on a Saturday morning. Around 6 a.m. the trio was awakened by hurled pieces of yard litter from three 10 year old children, thinking it a good idea to destroy strangely placed tents. Sam, first one to act, fiercely un-zips the flap and pleads to the kids to stop but with much confusion on our behalf the children begin to throw more pieces of playground at us. Only taking it so long, Sam runs the kids off with his own version of their game. It much resembled theirs with the stick throwing but with much better aim. Finally convincing the kids to cease and desist the trio rise and set forth this early morning.

On our way to meet Sam's pedal which broke some few hundred miles ago finally calls it quits and dismounts from the sprocket, good thing it happen as close as it did or we would have been in a little more trouble. He handled it gracefully and rode in on the pedal axle. Pictured above

Our early was taken with shurgged shoulder because we knew at the end we would all recieve the treat we have been working toward since June a few day furlow in Denver. An early 20 miles to go before we meet up with Sam's aunt and Uncle we push through and end up at Lulu's bar and grille, waiting for our connection.

Now we have seen a lot of signs on our trip and I mean a lot but the one we saw this has got to be the topper. With three signs lined vertically next to the entrance; one being no one udner 21 permitted after 10 p.m. the other stating an appreciation for the motorcycling crowd and the third a baffling NO COLORS ALLOWED. Now, at first neither of the other two believed me when I read it aloud, but when the sign was confirmed with their own eyes a slight nervousness set about the trio. This wasn't some bar in the middle of no where it was maybe a good 20 miles right outside of Denver. Hungry and excited to meet up with Sam's family we peruse inside for a beer and a qustion. After the beers were handed out I shoot out the question, what does that sign NO COLORS ALLOWED out their mean? With a sigh of relief I can tell you it had nothing to do with skin color just the fact that about twenty years ago the place was quite the rough joint and colors pertained to gangs going into and out of Denver.














(Our escort and his little buddy)

We meet Scott and Bronwyn pepple and also their adorable two children Lowel and Fletcher, they feed us and Scott pieces his bike together and we hit the road, the last leg to Denver. We get a wonderful escort through the city thanks to Scott and also we get a much needed break from our heavy gear from Bronwyn, who also gets to deal with the horrendous smell of all our stuff as she drives it to our bedding place in Denver.















(Nick, a happy boy in a happy place)

Now for an FYI we are going on a hiatus from blogging but will be posting pictures and maybe some comments about our time here in Denver.

Miles: 50

Morale: 1400 mile smile.

Day 22: Primitive Bugs Bites

Sleepin on skids in the greenhouse was rough. Bunches of bugs kept flyin around in our faces, we were all a little on edge, and lights were too bright from the parking lot. Oh well, at least it got us up early! (Nick and Luke pictured above, drowsily pulling themselves together). We truged over to the diner across the street and stared tiredly at each other for a good hour. Sam and Luke ate, but Nick was set on going back to the gas station cafe for his breakfast (Nick and Luke lost in tired thought over some coffee) .


Coffee was good and this Diner has a slew of coffee options! (as you can see by the picture below)

We made it back to the school board building and got our stuff together. The rest of the staff came in before we left and coldly stared us down (except for Barbara, she was kind). We didn't mind, the men dressed in cheap white collared shirts and ill fitting black slacks. They didn't come close to intimidating we spandexed three (Sam and Luke pictured below, dressed in their best finery for sitting at the School Board Conference table).


Enough fooling around, we were getting annoyed with Smith Center so we took off (Nick and Luke photoed below).


We made it up to Phillipsburg, KS for lunch. Sam and Luke went to a diner (they were drawn in by the Saw-Zaw being auctioned off by the cash register, pictured below) while Nick ran uptown to wash his clothes and eat 1/2 a half chicken from the supermarket. The heat was pretty bad, so we hung out at the library for a bit, and after a bit of discussion decided that we should make it a 100 mile day.


The riding was great after Phillipsburg. The trees finally disappeared and we felt like we were in the plains! Honestly, it was the first time we felt like we were out of the midwest the entire trip. The landscape was hilly and the high plains were full of cows, pasture land, abandoned houses and gorgeous rock outcroppings.

Old abandoned house and windmill

Pretty red barn

Fair Warning

Well, 100 miles didn't quite work out. We only made it 96 before a convenient park that offered primitive camping near Oberlin, KS lured us in. We pitched our tent and made dinner amidst swarms of mosquitoes (Nick and Luke pictured below at the primitive camp site). It was the first time we really regretted having not packed bug spray as the mosquitoes ravaged our supple skin. Night rolled around soon after dinner and we crashed into deep unconsciousness as we hit our sleeping pads...

Miles: 96

Morale: ass kickin-bug bitten

No storms, no flats, hordes of mosquitos

Day 24 : Digestion and Riding Are Mutually Exclusive

After a late start, we feasted on a hearty morning meal of oatmeal (our first time bolstering the hot cereal with the creamy power of milk; thanks to the Pham family Tony and Angel pictured with the trio above), chatted, and packed. Just a quarter of a mile outside of Bird City we noticed a brightly colored figured on the opposite shoulder of the road growing larger. It was our first encounter with a road warrior traveling eastward . The man was Doug Bahniuk, a 50 year old Cleveland man with Parkinsons disease riding to raise money to help fight Parkinsons (dougslastgreatsoloride.blogspot.com)


After riding for 10 miles, only a few miles from St. Francis we notice a nice farm house that is selling eggs, herbs, and such. We stop, are given cold water, chat about the problems of industrialized agriculture on the health of the planet and its people, purchase some herbs and jelly, and are directed towards a good lunch spot and grocery in St. Francis.

We decided to eat lunch at the St. Francis Dairy King, a greasy burger and milkshake joint that was completely slammed with business and too little employees (below). Our food took a long time and we decided to gorge deeply into the late afternoon, consuming burgers, fries, milkshakes, and cones.
(below: Thankfully Nick is entertained by a younger customer.)

(below: Luke, chocolate-vanilla twist cone in hand, mingles with the country folk)


St. Francis is only 15 miles from the Colorado/Kansas border. We decide to make a run for the border after 4 hours of gorging in the heat of the day. By 4:30 we are off. Just outside of town we notice another bicycling figure riding a half mile ahead of us. After 7 miles of riding Nick, who is uncharacteristically riding at a higher velocity than Luke and I, catches up to this enigmatic figure only to be snubbed. According to Nick, he peddled his ass off to catch up with the man. When he was 5 feet from him, the man darted off onto a nearby dirt road. After riding north on the dirt road for a minute or so, he allowed Nick to pass him by and headed back out onto hwy 36 for a little while longer before turning south onto a driveway. After a minute or two at the house he leaves the driveway and heads back east towards St. Francis. At this time, I am slowly pulling up the rear and pass him as he exists the drive (below: secret man dressed in jeans and long sleeve shirt with a bicycling cap adorned with a tilting mirror). At this time I was unaware about his snubbing ability, and went ahead to greet him, only to be snubbed with a snarling glar.

Only 5 more miles of flat terrain and we cross into Colorado and decide to take a good stretch and gather ourselves after the gorgefest. (below: Luke perches on the coolest state welcome sign)

(below: Sam stretches out with the state of Kansas behind him)

(below: Luke is pictured taking pictures of a sign describing good agricultural practices)


We road for 15 more miles from the border to a town called Idalia, Colorado. In Idalia we camped out behind a playground facility situated behind the high school football field. (below: dinner is consumed standing up)


Eastern Colorado is surprisingly flat but beautiful at sunset. I expected the Rockies to be a little rockier than this. Yeah that John Denver is full of shit man.


morale. B-
miles. 45
flats. none

Day 21: Kansas (A.K.A.The World's Life-Line)

Waking up clean with mattresses under our backs was certainly a treat, and after a few more jokes from Mister Jokey we took off to conquer mid-Kansas.

Mister Jokey was the husband of our married RV park hosts. If you havn't guessed, he was full of jokes. I'll grace you with two:

"So there was this yellow toad. His odd color found him the brunt of many mean jokes so we opted to go to the witch for a color change. The witch brewed him up a potion, he drank it, and poof, he was brown like all the other toads. Well, except for his member, it remained yellow. He demanded that the witch change it to brown as well, but she didn't know how. So she sent him off the the wizard.

A few minutes later a purple elephant strolled in, asked if he can be changed to grey like all the others. So the witch mixed up a potion, he drank it, and poof he is all grey, except for his member. He puffed up a storm and demanded that it be changed to grey as well. The witch shruged her shoulders, and advised (with a smug grin) that he runs off to the wizard. "How do I get to the wizard?" the elephant asked (very perturbed). Oh, that's easy exclaimed the witch, just follow the yellow pricked toad!"

hahaha, okay, I won't torture you with the second one...

We took off from our room and headed off towards Smith Center. About 6 miles out we were suddenly overtaken by other 5 cyclists wearing silly looking spandex shorts and skin tight jerseys. Turns out that they were the same "bike and build" cyclists we met at the church in Pittsfield, IL (just way ahead of the others). We chatted for a bit and pulled into their rest stop to take a picture of the trailer that hauls all of their gear (pictured below).

The stop was short and we pulled back out into the road to enjoy the scenic hillery of Kansas.

After a few more miles we found a sign that excitedly proclaimed that we were in the geographic center of the United States! (pictured below) The sun kept us from basking in the centric glory for more than a few minutes and we pushed on...

To further boost our Kansan pride, we discovered (via the sign pictured below) that Kansas Agriculture is the World's Life-Line! All this wheat is the mainstay of the world foodstuffs, and everyone should thank American industrialized agriculture for ensuring a steady dumping of genetically similar, subsidized goods into the hands of third world farmers so they don't have to break a sweat to create and maintain a diverse domestic agricultural market that encourages a sustainable food-production system. Note the blood dripping from the phrase "The World's Life-Line" in the picture (then again, maybe it's oil). Disturbing but fitting.

We made it out of the wheat fields and into the city in center of Smith county. It is cleverly named Smith Center. Upon entering Smith Center we found a delicious cafe inside a gas station and gorged on $5 footlong subs/garlic cheesy bread. We then hit up the library and blogged our brains out (library pictured below).

The weather report wasn't looking so good by the time the libray closed and we were warned by some police officers that a big hailstorm was coming, and we should find shelter. So we went back to the gas station cafe...

The storm was HUGE. Screaming wind, hail, and torrents of rain blasted us for about 2 hours. Sam managed to convince the woman working at the Smith County school board to let us keep our bikes in her office, so we left them there and ran back into the fray (Sam pictured below, screaming at the storm like a wild-man).

Well, the storm ruined our chances of our getting out of town for the day, so we decided to convince some motels that we deserved a room at a discount price. Our pathetic wet-dog looks didn't help at all and the best offer we got was a concrete floor and shower for $30. Defeated (captured in the forlorn eyes of Nick and Luke pictured below) we went back to the gas station cafe and talked the attendants into despising us (except for the librarians and Barbara the nice school board woman, everyone in Smith Center was cold to us).

We played around a bit, and the bored wet coldness brought out the new-aged pirates in us (three pictures below).

We eventually began to buy and eat candy. Sammo made a commemorative 1000 mile Reese's Peanut Butter Cup display (pictured below), which we promptly ate (and our stomachs made us soon regret).


We eventually pestered the gas station attendants enough that they gave us a free pizza! Yum, it immediately sat poorly in our stomachs but such is life...(Nick pictured below, nervously unsure what the pizza is about to do to his bowels)By the time we got our pizza, it was almost 10pm and we had no place to stay. We checked out the local road side park, but it was all wet and we couldn't get to our tent because it was locked up in the school board's office until the next morning. So we snuck into an emptry greenhouse at another strip mallish store and slept the night away on some elevated skids (Sam pictured below, preparing his sleepin pad).


Thanks to the Barbara of the Smith County school board for leting us store our bikes in their building for the night!

Miles: 31

Morale: stormy

No flats, but big rain

Day 23. Hydrogen Powered Trucks and more Kansas ditch- weed

After rousing only to tend to our quickly festering mosquito bites, we decided to go out for breakfast in downtown Oberlin, KS. We packed up and deposited excrement in the nicely kempt campground outhouses (oh yeah, behind the outhouse Sam and Nick discover another bountiful crop of wild marijuana-- pictured above; Kansas is the only state where any of us have ever stumbled upon wild pot.) Breakfast consisted of large omelets for Luke and Nick, and a large waffle for Sam (below: Nick rides gingerly into Oberlin priming his mustache in anticipation for his omelet).

After filling up and stretching out, we departed for a 30-mile journey to the next Kansas county seat, Atwood. I must regress for a moment and fill you in on the layout of northern Kansas. When traveling through Kansas on Hwy 36 there is 13 counties which are almost all 30 miles wide. Each county has a county seat located generally smack dab in the middle not far off of 36.
Because we aim to travel 60 miles a day, we normally try to ride from one county seat to the next by lunch and then finish at the next by night fall.

Between Oberlin and Atwood we saw some beautiful landscapes. (below: Notice the dryness and quite barren vegetation at 3,000 feet . These regions are impossible to farm and exhibit a different side of Kansas, the High Plains)

We stopped in Atwood at the first gas station we saw. Inside, we met several interesting folks, including a man who knows a Kansan women who moved to Athens to teach at the College of Osteopathic Medicine, and an even more peculiar interaction with an even more peculiar man who is purportedly in the final stages of creating his own hydrogen powered car (pictured below). Forgetting his name, we will simply call him hydro man. Hydro-man spent 30 minutes explaining that he and another partner have discovered how to split hydrogen and the oxygen. He attempted to field Nicks more prying chemistry and physics based questions, but came off sounding quite rhetorical, spouting off things like how many grams of hydrogen are in a liter of water and his most glaringly repetitious rhetoric which he must have said 37 times, "we'll be going down the road for free.....on water."


If you haven't yet gathered from my writing, we all viewed this man with an incredulous eye but were still completely enthralled with his enthusiasm, courage, and libertarian gusto. While Luke and I retired to the gas station to feast on rice pudding and blueberries, Nick and Hydro-Man chatted about their distrust for the government, especially an ill-advised agricultural system that champions the exclusive use of macro nutrients.

(below: entering Atwood Luke is clocked by the police radar at 13 mph below the speed limit, only exemplifying our crawling pace.)

We eventually finished chatting and gorging at the gas station and made our way to the public library to avoid the heat while catching up on facebook and such. We left the library around 5:00 and were hoping to make it to St. Francis, KS.

(below: the terrain changed dramatically after leaving Atwood to a more gradually rolling and eventually flat agricultural land)



below: flat wheat fields surround us as we approach McDonald KS. Combines follow behind Luke for awhile and we eventually evacuate to the side of the road allowing them to pass, but as we wait on the side of the road for them to pass, they turn off onto the road behind Nick.

Riding 45 miles after 5:00 was a bit ambitious, and we decide to call it quits at the first ice cream shop , located in Bird City, KS, some 15 miles east of St. Francis.


After sucking down milkshakes, we headed in to town to scrounge around for some lodging. A few houses in on the main drag we notice a man and a woman skanking it on their porch (note, skanking it is a term some friends and I use to describe the simply act of chilling; it has nothing to do with promiscuity). They inquired where we were traveling to and fro, and then I asked, "can we camp in your lawn?" They agreed and we let down our hair. Tony and Angel (the aforementioned they) offered us beer and egg rolls. We accepted them ravenously. Eventually Tony's sons, Tony and Steven emerged and hung out. We spent the next couple of hours eating, chatting about life in small town Kansas (having moved there from Denver only 2 years prior), and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

(below: Luke and Nick listen intently between bites of the most delicious egg rolls we ever consumed)

(below: Tony telling a good story while taking a break from congratulatoryily smacking Sam on his sunburnt back for being the smart one)


Thank you so much Tony, Angel, Tony, and Steven.

Morale. too high to move
Mileage. 60
Weather. hot and crispy

Day 25 - Smellin' the barn

(The journey past)

Waking up before the sun has it's privileges, perhaps a nice sit-down breakfast or maybe a brisk walk around the block. To the trio an early morning means a 15 hour day with 110 miles between start and finish. Nick's alarm rings the morning commencement and as usual breakfast is conjured up from a mixture of grocery bag cuisine and slow wit. Last nights deliberation over whether we should pull a century today was concluded when we did not return to bed at 5 a.m. On the road by seven the heat to our backs and Kansas a long memory, Colorado becomes our new mother. And then Colorado becomes the new Kansas. With all the warnings from back East, unfounded by our personal experiences, Kansas, it turns out, has a very dynamic landscape with rolling hills and jutting stone all through the Western quarter. Colorado, at least Eastern, is very flat, very boring. The road meanders for miles ahead of you with the only prescription from driving you crazy is to focus on the pot hole ridden highway that is Colorado. Nothing to see to the left and nothing to the right our only visual treat was when large farm machinery would cause an uproarious wheat cloud terrorizing the sky and road. The trio knowingly continues head strong into what some would call the 3rd level of hell or maybe Cope, Anton or even Last Chance. Three of our stops from our 100 miles.















(nothingness of Colorado)

The day afforded little, as it pertains to places to re-group and water up. Small wheat towns with large grain elevators grasping the landscape and collecting homes to keep them from being lonely. Our first of these towns was someplace called Joes no stops just a drive by. I don't really need to go into all the little towns but they were few and far between with little to offer the trio. One interesting experience, happened in Anton. We met a fellow road wanderer this man being on a motorcycle. He was very disapointed all the trees were cut down and he couldn't get any water was calling Anton an oasis before the 20's and talking about the dust bowl. He was a talker that was about all he did, talk for about 25 minutes then he just got up and left.




























(The dust bowl heretic)
The day dragged on and on for hours but our perseverance held true and 110 miles tucked. Reaching Byers, CO. by 10 p.m. stuffing at the local grocery, asking questions pertaining to a home for the night offers are laid upon the table from a local cashier after some discussion we decide his home wouldn't be the best place for the night. We had previously thought about renting a hotel room in celebration of all the miles. Only three motels in town, the first being a strike out, too expensive the second a strike out, no vacancy and the third well, we couldn't find the sunset motel so there really wasn't a third but three strikes and we are off to sleep in the park. With little energy and patience we set-up the tent and sleep comes next.















(finally in Byers)

Miles: As if you didn't know 110!

Morale: No, thank you, just a couple of light lager's

Day 20 - 996 miles away from home.

Waking up in the auger herd of Larry Hadachek's so many acre farm (above: view of beautiful kansas morning sky from bed) we sluggishly move towards getting back to the road. Luke and Sam being the last one's up in this hot humid morning, Nick already having munched an early before breakfast snack still jumps on the opportunity to cook a yet even larger breakfast for the trio. After our fill and a packing of the bikes the trio decides it's time for a change of masks. With all our beards becoming unruly and rattish it's decided we all are taking the next 1,000 miles mustached. We are becoming quite close friends.

Still taking our time we move on finally around the eleven o'clock hour. After Sam gets his pedal up to functionality, with a little extra grease and some hope the pedal will last until Denver, we set sail with only 55 miles until our 1,000 mile mark. Rolling on into hunger we find the noon sun almost unbearable (98 deg. F). Setting anchor down in Belleville and hitting up a food mart we have our fill and glut then it's off to the closest shade tree and a nap ensues for two. Nick goes for a stroll around the Sunday town, Sam and I release ourselves to the microscopic wild. With little help from the Sycamore tree the sun's heat permeates through and sweat is what blankets the afternoon nappers. Upon Nicks return, the heat unbearable, and store clerks curious glares the heat is fended off by our food marts industrial A/C. Deciding heat is heat and the sun is not going to go away anytime soon, so we continue on west. (not before posing with our newly carved lip dressings. below)

Passing our first feedlot, the smell unbearable, and the depravity of the situation almost instantly turns me into a vegetarian but alas on such a trip as this one a vegetarian may perish in the meat and wheat belt. We did come up across a quaint little vegetable stand with multiple green houses and fresh fruits and veggies. Without hesitation we stop and partake in purchasing the fresh goods only to wait and see Sam's unrelenting ability to speak to so many people we are treated to extra squash and tomatoes. Hanging around for just a bit and a bite, we continue on.

Hoping to break 1,000 miles today but only having an opportunity to postpone this goal we find a nice place in Mankato, an un-passable deal, and settle for a cumulative 994 miles.

We stop on the east side of Mankato at an RV park run by Paul Fay and his wife, a nice little batch of land right off of 36. They offer us a room and shower for only 12$. Not all the way up to 1,000 miles but with such a good deal on our hands and only a few miles from 1,000 we worry about making such a grand benchmark for another day.

Miles: 45

Morale: vehement vigor

Thanks to the RV park owners for such great deal on sleeping in the linen storage cabin and access to the shower house.

Day 19: Kansan Hills and Broken Pedals

Well, Day 19 was rather uneventful. So we'll keep it short...

It started raining in the middle of the night and didn't let up until about 2:30pm. So we layed around in the tent all morning, reading up on some of the most important issues in US society (i.e. should the obese be charged extra for plane tickets?, might global climate change be responsible for extreme weather?, is "the decider" a war (mongering)-time president? is plastic surgery important to Americans?). Laalala this was the "big thoughts" edition of newsweek:)

Nick reading (above) and Sam chewing the toothpic in his sleep (below)

Eventually hunger forced us outside and we trudged through the rain to the local breakfast joint, "The Wagon Wheel" Sam and Luke ordered the most delicious omletes ever served at a restaurant (Luke pictured below) and the waitress advised Nick to order less than his initial huge pancake order because he wouldn't be able to eat it all. Well, Nick (me who be writing) foolishly listened to the waitress but was still very hungry at the end of his meal, so he walked over to the other side of the restaurant and scored some half eaten hash browns, eggs and toast off the plates of some non-so-hungry patrons that had already left. Mmmm, belly finally content.

Sam also enjoyed some delicious peanut butter pie.

The rain finally stopped and we got on the road about 3:00pm. The hills suprized us, they are not easy with 70 lbs of sail-like weight strapped to your bike. Pictured below are the rolling hills of Kansas.

Kansas wheat made shorter by a combine.

Nick and Luke break for picture.

Lots of old windmills scattered about apparently abandoned property.

Roadside erosion, perty horizons.

Well, around 9:00pm we had made 42 miles and the sun was sinking low and so we decided it was time to stop for the night. We pulled up to an old farm house (pictured below) but no one was home.

An then Sam's pedal fell off in the driveway. What!?!? yes, the platform fell right off the spindle. Weird. So he tried to fix it for a while, but to no avail. Eventually the farmer came outside (he just didn't hear us knock) and let us stay at his house. Pedal was acting weird though and we decided to leave it until morning.

Thanks to Larry (of Czech descent) who lives near Cuba, KS for the tools, water and camping space!

Miles: 42

Morale: energetically draggin

Rainrainrain and broken pedals

Day 18: Patriots at the Pool

A night of responsible drinking at Philly's (in Fairview, KS) left us a little head-achy the morning of July, 4th. But that didn't stop mister Sam from arising bright and early to snap a few shots of the Luke-Nick sleepers before the intrusive sun slapped them awake by shining in their eyes (Pictured above). Our Hosts, Deb and Deb, had us in and Red haired Deb let us delve into her juice and fruit stock while we chatted about Indians and small town USA (Deb/Deb/SamLukeNic pictured below).


In the spirit of US patriotism, uncle Sam donned his red, white and blue foot coverings and we went on our way.

The first town we hit was Seneca, all was shut down for the 4th so we meandered over to the grocery store and gorged on pig ribs and bacterial cultures grown in cow milk. Heavy and too hot to really do anything we sat in front of the grocery for an hour or so staring at people. Eventually one man spoke to us and told us of a pool. We considered it for another 20 minutes, consented that swimming and sunburn was a good choice, and rode off.

The pool was your typical city pool. Lots of little kids with their moms, a few hot shots jack-kniving and double back-flipping off the high dive, a few cute 18 year olds watching the high-divers, us and a few others cooly keeping tabs on everything. Below are some pictures of us being cool at the pool...

Nick reared back, ready to impress,

Sam, mustache primed and eying the ladies,

Luke, the future of Nascar,

Sam and Luke reigning over their newly conquered aquatic gym.

The sunbathing and chlorine left us a bit tired but much cleaner than we had been and we took off for Marysville hoping for a great display of American operated Chinese pyro-wizardry. The route was hilly (not all Kansas is flat!) and pro-life advertisements dominated the billboards (pictured below). Upon entering Marysville we were lured once again into Sam Walton's empire and he fed us succulent juices (odwalla and boathouse) and cliff-bars before we found our way to the free RV hookup and tent camping grounds in the Marysville park.

Set up in the Marysville park was a success, and we had fireworks to light. But fireworks aren't fun if danger isn't involved, so we opted for a roman candle war. The war was quick, no casualties, all exploding projectiles detonated about us and not on us, and the cops didn't come. Hmm, maybe better luck next time. (Picture of Nick preparing to ignite his weapon).


Post war, the bugs came out. Nick escaped into the impermeable tent while Luke and Sam scurried off to the bar, where they found two free rounds awaiting them (Luke pictured below, intently eying something) before they came back, ravaged some sausage and fell asleep.

Sam the mighty American

Super thanks to Deb(s) and Connie. The appetizers, drinks and juices did us better than well.

miles: 51
morale: American
no flats
no rain

Day 17: Enter Kansas. Whomever said this place is flat, never traversed it by bicycle

Hello. Sam here.
Today began with a nice breakfast of left-overs from the aforementioned gorge-fest at the Klaassens. After breakfast, around 7:30, Spencer and Angie took off for work and the trio was left in the hands of their two lovely children, Hannah and Henry (pictured below: Hannah is riding on Henry's bike while he attempts to, somewhat unsuccessfully, ride on the pegs). We spent the next 2 hours stretching, eating and discovering what life is like as a 5th and 8th grader living in St. Joseph Missouri.

above: Henry poses with the trio. Look kids and adults-- even a kid as cool as Henry Klaassen wears a helmet; he must really value his brain.

After our goodbyes, we traveled for only 3 miles before hitting the Missouri river and consequently crossing into Kansas. The traffic was quite bad as a few major highways converge before the river, some undoubtedly heading south to Kansas City (below: when traffic is like this, with many cars entering and exiting, it is quite important that we are on our toes. I, however, still find time to snap a picture)


(above: the Missouri river viewed from hwy 36 bridge facing north. St. Joseph is pictured in the backdrop.)

We finally entered Kansas and political boundary is surprising evident in the landscape, especially compared to two states like Ohio and Indiana where the political boundary is very arbitrary. I have not done extensive research on this subject, but it seems intuitive enough that when you have a major physical impediment, like a river or mountain range, separating two states, there is a much greater chance that a noticeable cultural and physical difference can be observed.

Kansas is an extremely long state, my earlier estimates were around 400 miles. As we enter Kansas we see a sign (below) indicating just how far we must travel before we reach the other border (the one Kansas shares with Colorado).

While planning the route for this trip, I traveled to Denver last December. On the trip out, I took highway 80, the northern route, which goes from Chicago, through Iowa, through Nebraska and finally drops south into Denver. On the trip back to Ohio, I took hwy 70, which is the more southern route, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana. After the trip, I decided that the latter route was much more desirable, specifically for beauty, underrated geologic diversity, and subtle dynamicism of Kansas. Anytime we would mention that we were going to travel through Kansas, almost every person would automatically respond, " Kansas, thats a long and boring state....and extremely flat." I would always respond, "Have you ever traveled through Kansas, or have you only seen the Wizard of Oz?"

I spent a lot of time reassuring Luke and Nick that all of those people were full of shit; Kansas is not flat , it is beautiful. Granted it is a long state, but if it wasn't for these large plains states (the supposedly boring "flyover country") our country would never have had the calories to support the innovation and our industrial prowess of the past century. Without this large swath of agricultural land, you and I would not be living half as comfortable as we are: no summer-long bike rides.

Anyway. You probably would like to see more pictures and much less pontifications.


Last time you heard from us we were posting up in Hiawatha Kansas, which is about 40 miles from the Missouri border. When we entered downtown Hiawatha, I asked the first car we saw if there was a grocery store in town. She told me that there is only a Wal-Mart, about a mile east of town. This pattern is not that surprising: Hiawatha's downtown storefronts are either empty, or far from busy, because everyone is down at the Wal-Mart. The Wal Mart is perfectly positioned to not only suck up the business of Hiawatha, the county seat, but all of the surrounding smaller communities. I told you I would save the pontifications, so I will do my best. I will leave you with a few words. The trio is just as vulnerable to the economic forces that create a market for Wal Mart goods as the citizens of Hiawatha, even at the expense of letting some of the most majestic and historic prairie towns fall victim to corporate homogeneity and culture degradation. We have been finding it hard to shop anywhere else and apologize for our contradictory nature.


(below: Nick is so happy to find his favorite American Soft Drink--Mountain Dew-- adorned with patriotic dressing)

(below: Wal Mart is a bad drug. Sam has an addictive personality and finds placation through its low prices and cold air conditioning)

After Wal Mart and the blog fest, we were off for a few more miles. We traveled 12 miles until we came upon a town called Fairview. Fairview is a very small town with a population less than 500. We stopped at the first watering hole off the road, Philly's.


After some long unwelcome looks from a few patrons, we struck up a conversation with a South African man named Barry (pictured below). Barry was in town visiting his son Oliver. Oliver is in Kansas as part of a worker exchange program through the ostensibly largest employer in town, the dog food company Fairview Mills. Barry used to do some semi-professional (or maybe full professional) cycling in South Africa when he was younger. He was really impressed with our gear and our stamina. Meeting South Africans in Kansas made us feel a little less out of place.

When we returned from our chatting with Barry, a woman named Connie introduced herself. Connie was a waitress at Philly's and had spent $10 on a fried plate for us to snack on. We were incredibly greatful for her gesture, regardless of havoc it caused in the bowels. We continued to drink a local (Kansas City) Pale Ale called Boulevard. It was very tasty. After conversing with the bartender, Deb, for awhile she invited us over to her lawn to spend the night. She lived just across the street from the bar. We called it a night around 12:00, curled up on her lawn, and tried to tune out the endless blasts of fireworks (the was in fact Independence day Eve).

(below: the trio poses with Connie (red shirt) and Deb.)


Thanks Deb, Connie, and Deb. Keep it cool. We will see you next time we are in Fairview

miles: 55
morale: steady
no flats
no rain
a little too much beer

And the survey says.... MAP!

apologies, the blogger just doesn't want you to have an easy time reading the posts. We've posted up until day 16 it's up to you to sort them out, good luck. Anyway, thus far we have traveled a close 850 miles. Sounds amazing I know but we aren't even half way yet.
- Luke-

Day 14: Escape from the Warzone and into the Nature

The endless barrage of bottle rockets and blackcats about the streets of Monroe City didn't come close to disturbing our first tent slumber since Vinton County, OH. Joe's replacement tent piece worked wonderfully (pictured below) and we awoke refreshed and ready to embark on our journey to Macon. Before we left we filled up on oatmeal with hickory syrup and honey scooped out of Sam's bag, and said our goodbyes to the man sweeping the Church floors.


And Luke decided to become a fifties wrestling star...


The road to Macon was a bit cramped as we had no shoulder to work with (it is gravel), not too treacherous though, cars and trucks like to give us plenty of room. 36 is mostly two-lane dived with a huge berm throughout Missouri, the picture below is part of the bottlenecked two lane that is about to be divided.


14 miles after Monroe City we came across the cleverly named town, Shelbina...ate the "wierdest pizza ever ordered" from the local Hunt Brothers pizza distributors,

got our ice cream fix,

and blogged our biker hearts out at the Public Library. Some little girls laughed at my (Nick's) spandex and I managed to get some new lounging shorts at the dollar general.

From Shelbina we took off to Macon and stumbled across the beautiful Long Branch State Park.


The water was record high and open camp sites were numerous. The shower house served us well and we gorged on whole wheat macaroni mixed with horseradish cheese, red peppers, onions, garlic, and imbued with Chef Sam's devilish energies (pictured below).

Thanks to the Monroe City Methodist Church for letting us squat under their tree:)

Miles: 47

Morale: fired up

no storms

no flats

Day 16 : Fried Chicken Soothes the Pains of Wet Windy Weather

Slowly rousing around 7:00, we eventually made breakfast in our deluxe apartment (pictured above): peanut butter + jelly and oatmeal with blueberries. After breakfast, we chatted with Steve and packed the bags; he explained that the weather was looking pretty dreary for most of the day and was supposed to only worsen. After a good 15 minute stretch on his very nice garage floor (the smoothest and the cleanest garage floor I have ever lain upon... Bill Pepple would be quite envious)



On the way out of town we stopped at the gas station closely perched next to highway 36. There we bought a dozen of day-old Krispy Kreme donuts for half price: $3.50. In all actuality the donuts were officially 2-day old, we noticed them sitting there the previous night. I brought this to the attention of the clerk, explaining, "We are only going to pay $1.75". She retorted somewhat unenthusiastically, "No...they are (1) day-old. The price is $3.50." Having not yet consumed the corn syruppy sustenance, I was in little shape to argue, so I simply paid the $3.50 while Nick filled my coffee cup and we returned to the parking lot to devour all 12 donuts.

After the high octane fuel fill up (Luke would argue that refined sugar does little but rot the gut), we hit the road. We continued to climb the loess hills (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loess) of western Missouri through the rain and 25 mph winds (below: Nick breaks at the top of the hill, while Luke scours the terrain for a good place to urinate: interestingly enough, shortly after the picture, Nick began peeing from that position of the starboard side of the bike).

As you can notice from the picture (above facing back east) the storm was largely south of us. After the picture, we continued down the road for another 15 miles until the town of Hamilton, Missouri. By the time we had reached Hamilton the storm was climaxing and we would not hear another peep from him [the storm... a strange personification I know, but the road makes you weird] for the rest of the day. Hamilton is the birthplace and residence of Mr. J.C. Penney. None of the trio thought that J.C. Penney was an actual person, just the name of a department store. Apparently J.C. had donated a good deal of his fortune to the town, including the construction of a new school and "college style" football facilities...wow. We found the first diner in town called Past Times. Nick and Luke ordered double cheeseburgers, while I couldn't resist the temptation of fried chicken for the second consecutive lunch. Nick had a Tollhouse pie, while Luke and I ordered milkshakes: strawberry-banana and chocolate, respectively (below: notice Sam's milkshake elation).


After we completed dessert, Nick retired out front to take a nap, while Luke and I chatted with the waitresses. (below Luke and I pose with the employees of Past Times: they absolutely loved us. The owner, the blond in the back positioned just beneath the man exclaimed, " I wish I owned a diner in every town you are traveling through."

The stop in Hamilton was probably around the order of 2.5 hours, as we attempted to digest all 3,000 calories consumed. This put our departure time around 3:40. Our goal was to make it to St. Joseph Missouri, a city of 78,000 people on the Missouri/Kansas border, by the end of the day (45 more miles). After Hamilton the weather became quite gorgeous, albeit a little sticky, but still much appreciated compared with the mornings weather. This linear snap shot of northern Missouri left us completely satisfied, and Nick a bit reeling from the painful hills. Still we all can agree that the hills are rolling and beautiful. Compared to the high amount of corn production throughout Illinois, there is much less crop production and more small-scale livestock production, namely Bulls.





(below: Luke and Nick barreling down the hill
(below: the common view as we ascend the hills. Notice the beautiful wildflowers on the north side of the road)

We finished our 70 mile day, arriving at the Klaassen household at 7:45. Spencer Klaassen is an avid cyclist who is on warmshowers, the aforementioned touring community (www.warmshowers.org). When we pulled in their driveway, the whole Klaassen family, Spencer, Angie (wife), Hannah (daughter: entering 8th grade), and son Henry (son: entering 5th grade) were on the pack patio enjoying dinner. Upon arrival, they saw to satiating our every need; offering us a great meal of burgers, Italian sausages, bean salad, pasta salad, chips, beer, brownies, and allowing us to shower and do laundry. All of our previous hosts have been wonderful and have helped us out tremendously; however, the Klassen's, being tourists, knew exactly what we wanted: a well balanced meal (protein, carbohydrates, and beer) and time to relax. (below: Nick and Spencer taking it all in).


(below: a cycling fanatics large repertoire of machines)


Thanks Klaassens. You are very classy. Your kids are well behaved, interesting, and knowledgeable. You provided a good example for how to be good hosts, and we hope to someday reciprocate the favor and help another tourist out in this same manner.

Miles: 70
Morale: Bloomington
no flats or mechanical problems

Day 15 - Misery Hills!

Again, a good nights sleep in the newly innovated Eureka Timberline 4 tent. The state park was a great call for a safe and comfortable stay. No, I am not selling tickets to the long branch state park. Rising with the 7 a.m. sun the trio is yet again famished from a long day of riding and a longer night of cooking our gourmet dinners and staying up past 11 p.m. just to scarf it down. We set up the breakfast table with oatmeal and other morning essentials eat with a raging rivers pace and begin the daily pack. Before too much work the trio, not but twenty yards from the lake, ready themselves for a morning dip. All fun and games through it's time to continue our journey west. Into some of the hardest hills yet, long and slight but will make you tired and tight.

Leaving the park is almost heartbreaking, the beauty of the prarie with a receeding forest hairline much prettier than miles upon miles of winding highway (above).

On our way to Chilicothe, MO. usually around twenty miles into the day we stop and fuel up. Today was no different and with the emptiness of hunger on our minds we hit up one of the finest stock (beef) market diners this side of the Mississippi. Well, after a very good meal and a light stretch, on again, we hit the road. Chilicothe, here we come (below).

Once there we try to hit up yet another Wal-Mart but this time with a larger request. Finding the cutest little boy out side telling us about his 3 year old abilities and how he's going to be able to do so much more after his birthday in August (below).

we are looking for the store manager, well for a minute actually he was outside pushing carts, a question was put forth.... We heard you could campout at Wal-Mart's is that true? and if so can we? Inevitably the answer being no, only RV camping is allowed which in many aspects isn't really camping. He offers we could stay in the old WM parking lot but they don't own it anymore, so he had no idea what he was offering. With enough hot air and ugly white WM bricks we push off looking for a church yard with a nice tree.

(Sam un-enthused about being infront of another Wal-Mart)

Church pickens were numerous but the yard and tree were slim. Swinging down through the back street and around potholes we spot a beautiful tree in a large episcopal yard. Asking the pastor inside if we can dance out under his oak tree and without hesitation we bust out the dancin' shoes and eat. Of course talking about the day and just how stiff we are a crowd always begins to form around our auras of greatness. And we are very thankful for the crowds or we would have slept outside this night.

Anyway Steve was the first to pop the question; where you from? Where you goin'? He told us of his stories of AlCan tours on his motorcycle and was very enthusiastic to hear ours. Offering us, in the snow ball fashion as many of these encounters do, first soda and with a lack of fervor we kindly deny the offer. He then returns with some ice tea and with much excitment we devour the tea with supper. Again he comes back and informs us of his empty rental that has a bath and offers us a way to clean for the night, without hesitation we accept. Sam asks if a sponge bath may be in order as well and with an easy and sly reply Steve lets Sam know he's not given' em but we can sponge whomever we wants. With free bath and an empty rental inevitiably we are given free roam of both and spend a great night in Chilicothe, MO.

(Luke experiencing the snowball effect, from ice tea to bathwater)

A huge motel 7 thank you goes out to Steve and Nikki for giving us the opportunity to experience young bachelor life; a nice home but no furniture.

Miles: 64

Morale: Surf's up!

"Post more pictures of the map" she said emphatically

Readers.

Please excuse our negligence in posting pictures of our beautiful map. Today, 07.02.08, we are in Chillicothe Missouri. The map above was taken the day previous when we were stoped in Macon Missouri. Today we are off riding 70 miles to the Kansas border; the weather is rainy but pleasant.

Cheers

SAM

Day 14: Day 1 revisited

As home base it was my duty to make the first blog entry... but I failed miserably. So, in honor of the two weeks since your departure, I have added some pictures from your first day.

As always, I love you guys.

Please Update the F*@king Blog

Readers.

First and foremost we would like to send out our dearest thanks for all the support and the wonderful comments. We want to apologize for making you all wait so long for updates. As evidenced by our detailed daily accounts, we spend a good amount of time documenting this trip; of course this is not only for you, but for us. We are creating a nice piece of history and it is time consuming, one which we will be able to look back on and keep these experiences alive.

After adventuring all day (riding, meeting, eating, meeting, chatting, taking pictures) we are really exhausted and find it nearly impossible to keep up the blog. We have spent the last 4.5 hours blogging so now you have something to feast on. We are strategizing about ways to more efficiently bring you the daily stories and undoubetedly will come up with something. Our main concern is to maximize efficiency without sacrificing the depth of reporting.

Todays heap of blog, somehow got out of chronological order. So you will have to look on the right hand side to choose the day numbers to read in chronological order.

Again, Thanks so much for your interest. This is the best summer vacation ever and we all hope that you can find comfort in sharing in our experience.

trio.

Day 9 : I love the Amish. They love to Bicycle.

The Thomas family (above) treated us to a lovely morning feast consisting of eggs, sausage, biscuits, hashbrowns, and coffee (below). After some morning chatting and packing we departed from Arcola by 8:00. Before leaving we attempted to fill our sagging tires with air from Nick’s hand pump. We were somewhat oblivious to the fact that a bike fully loaded with 70 pounds of weight would be near impossible to pump up with a hand pump. My tires started off at 60 psi, 20 below desired level, and after Nick’s futile attempts I was left with 20 psi. We decided to continue on with low pressure until we found a gas station.

About 5 miles down the road, with winds blaring some 15 mph or greater, we spotted a sign that read Fresh Goats Milk. We stopped off at the Amish house. The 9 children soon emerged from the house with some very enigmatic, but pleasant looks. Eventually their mother came to the drive and gave us a very warm welcome: a tall glass of goats milk each. We then asked to purchase some milk, eggs and cheese. At first she wasn’t going to take our money. When asking her what she wanted she retorted, “what ever you think it is worth.” Luke handed her $10 and she sent her son in to get change. Luke quickly staved off the change retrieval, and she looked shocked. After the business we asked to see the animals. She brought us into the barn and showed us the milking goats, the meat goats, and the chickens. We chatted for a good 15-20 minutes and then departed.

(note: I had some inclination not to just begin shooting pictures of the Amish or their property because of a cultural imposition. So I politely asked if it was ok to take pictures, she said that she would rather we did not. So…. You will notice that we do not have any pictures of the Amish people with whom we met. I may have not been exercising enough cultural sensitivity when later photographing Amish on bikes and buggies as we passed them. However, my goal during this trip is to document place and with that documentation comes the inherent problem of disregarding cultural autonomy. I apologize for imposing my culture upon the Amish, but this was only a means for discovering rich cultural landscape of central Illinois and the greater United States.)


About 10 more miles down the road we came to a town named Arthur. Just on the western outskirts of Arthur we noticed a billboard for a bike shop. We spent a good hour or so trying to find this shop. The shop had just recently moved, and the billboard had yet to be updated. An hour an 8 miles later, after asking several people for directions (below Nick asks a man in the buggy for directions), we found the shop. It was amazing how many Amish ride bikes; the buggy lane was busy with buggies and bikes. Many Amish ride recumbent bikes and they almost all carry trailers.




(below: two Amish kids arriving at the bikeshop with their little pony drawn wagon)




After the bike shop we stopped at a place called Yoder’s Kitchen. There was a supposedly tasty and cheap buffet of Amish-style cooking offered, but we decided to feast upon their baked goods picnic style just outside the restaurant (below: feasting). Buffets sure do draw large numbers of elderly folk. The elderly folk are by far our favorite inquirers. They kept coming up to us and asking us, “ Where ya from? Why are you going to Oregon? Oregon, that is a long way!” (below; the picnic outiside of Yoder's)



(below: two delightful elderly folk outside of Yoder's)



After lunch we set out for Springfield. The reason for aiming to get to Springfield was that we already had a place to stay there. I met this guy name Paul Hosmanek through an online cycling community (www.warmshowers.org), and his parents lived in Springfield and were exalted to house us. We were not sure how far it was to Springfield because everyone we asked told us something different, and none of them were cognizant of the route we were required to traverse, being that we had to stay off of interstates. We accrued that Springfield was somewhere between 50 and 70 miles from Arthur, making our total trip some 70-90 miles for the day. Because of nasty head winds, and sweltering temperatures (the hottest yet, somewhere in the upper 90’s), we did not make it all the way to Springfield. About an hour before sunset we decided that it wasn’t safe to travel any further, seeing that we were completely exhausted from traveling some 68 miles. (below: Luke and Sam looking exhausted, Sam is on the phone with the folks from Springfield explaining that we won't be making it until the following day)





We stopped at a very peculiar residence to ask about camping ; an Organic farm/fireworks store. There we met some of the nicest folks thus far: Sharon and Gary Younker and Gary’s brother David and his wife Angie. We approached the fireworks stand, which they set up in their garage for the two weeks preceding the 4th of July. I jokingly asked them for some sparklers, snakes, and roman candles. Nick then asked if we could camp in their lawn. They didn’t hesitate, quickly showing us our sleeping options. Sharon shut down the stand and began scouring the tub. She insisted that we shower; it had been 4 days since we last bathed. They then fixed us a meal of hot dogs and chilli. We all chatted for a good couple of hours about organic agriculture and genetically modified crops, their kids, and the future. We finished the night around a campfire drinking a beer with David and Angie. That night, while sleeping under the stars we were greeted by a very brave an adventurous skunk. This skunk kept trying to eat our bread and other snacks positioned above Nick and my heads. At one point during the night the skunk brushed up against Nick’s face. Luckily no one was sprayed; Sharon later explained that she only had one can of tomato juice. (below: Gary holding down the fireworks stand)

(below: Although some may argue that Sam was wearing panty hose, these are the resultant tan lines of 9 days in the sun wearing bike shorts)

Sharon, Gary, David, and Angie. Your hospitality was lovely. Thanks so much.

miles traversed: 67

morale: sagging late in the day, but boosted greatly after meeting the Younkersweather. no rain but fierce winds and scorching temperatures. exhausting.

Day 13 - Can't stop us now!

With a late mid-afternoon up up and away we have finally engulfed ourselves into Missouri. KFC at the Dougherty house, a nice sit down and gossip set-up we met Debbie's sister and friend. A good stretch and a few pea size applications of Chamois butter we hit the streets. Skipper over the hills to get around going through Hannibal again we found ourselves right on track on the other side and heading West. With help from the Missouri tax payers we get a brand new divided two lane and half of it to ourselves (Below).














Few miles down the road we are hailed by two Motorcyclists who have come from Pennsylvania on their way to Portland. We talk about routes and dates (not with each other just departure and arrivals) head off (Below).














It was already getting late so we peruse into Monroe City, MO. Just a few miles from Hannibal, due to our late start. We grow hungrier with every mile and so decided to stop and search for handouts. Pizza Hut was somewhat hesitant but nonetheless we got our cheesy bread sticks. Scarfed down some PB&J and BOOM! cheesy bread stick throws a wrench into our GI gears and we need a place to stay there will be no more riding today. We rode down through the square looking for a nice yard to ask about staying there and we find a finely placed methodists church with a wonderfully shady tree. We set camp and spend the night, taking it way easy.


Miles: 26

Morale: Indigestionesque

Day 11: The Cycling Drag Queens

The beds did us well and we were up by 7am for another huge breakfast of pancakes and oatmeal. The rain held us up for a bit, but we made it out by 11am. Said our goodbyes to our superlative hosts Mary and Joe and embarked to Jacksonville with Paul (Mary, Joe, Paul and the biker three pictured above; Paul pictured below).

Riding with Paul was a great experience, we swapped lots of touring stories, he took many pictures of we studly three, and he introduced us to the infamous “Horseshoe” of South-Central Illinois. What is a horseshoe? Well, it is a piece of Texas toast subtending a thick slab of meat (tenderloin, hamburger or chicken) upon which sits a nest of French fries smothered in melted cheese (nacho cheese style cheese). You can’t find them anywhere else, so next time you are around Springfield, make sure you down one, just don’t ride a bike afterwards.

Heading out from Jacksonville we got our first big dose of water from the sky. Thankfully we were right next to a John Deer dealership and we were able to huddle inside a showroom while sheets of rain relentlessly pounded the tin roof overhead (Below picture of Nick and Luke staring drearily into the dismal downpour).

After it passed we decided too head out, got caught in a sprinkle, crossed the Illinois river, and made it to Pittsfield, IL. The first thing we did was stretch…ourselves out on a barstool and order some beers at the local pub. We made our way down the street to eat at the weekend dinner-date hot-spot and got a lot of awkward stares (what? Are bright jersey’s and skintight spandex that show off our manliness not appreciated outside of a bar?). The restaurant served all their sandwiches on store bought generic white bread (and we were still hungry after we ate) so the stares mattered not to us (strange man at bar pictured below).

We still had no place to stay and it was getting late. The local park was too mosquito and cop ridden and we were getting antsy. What to do? Why, let’s go to a church! So we meandered on over the closest church (a Methodist church) and stumbled upon something out of this world. Thirty-some twenty-somethings running around in strange clothes (many in drag) with tan-lines indicative of bicyclists (Picture of Luke trying to convince the biker hoard that Athens Ohio actually exists)

Yikes! Turns out that the Methodist church was hosting a bicycle gang that rides across the US building houses to fight poverty. Why they were in drag… I guess that happens when you are with the same group of thirty people for weeks on end…if the same fever overcomes us, well, um, we’ll make sure we keep it confined to churches, for safety’s sake (Picture of biker-man dressed in drag)

They fed us roasted beef sandwhiches and offered us floorspace in the church. We cyclists ooeed and awed at each other, danced for a bit, and curled up under the last supper for a good nights sleep.

Much thanks to Mary, Joe and Paul for the company, food, tent piece and bike help!

Miles: 67

Morale: Grinning from ear to ear

no storms

no flats

Day 10: Goats Jumping around Food Mountains

The morning after the skunky-wet night found us huddled under the roof of the garage overhang, groggy and hungry. We grumbled awake and stared at the farm’s baby jumping goat for a few minutes, hoping the kid would rock us into an awestruck stupor (Aerial the goat pictured above). It just stared back so we moseyed over to breakfast. Sharon, Gary and Angie did throw us into some awestruck excitement however, as they treated us to an enormous breakfast of ham and eggs that bested our remarkably ravenous appetites. Eating so much threw us into sleep mode and we didn’t make it out until 11am (breakfast in picture).

We parted the organic/farm fireworks house, and set off to Springfield (to our first Warm Showers host) loaded with fireworks, bags of ham, prayer and good feelings (The organic farming fireworks family, and bikers pictured below).

The roads into Springfield were as gorgeous as the rest of South-Central Illinois…wheat, corn, soybeans, yaay…and we eventually found our way onto a great bike path that led us from Rochester to Springfield (Picture of Nick and Sam enjoying shady bike path).

Upon arrival to Joe, Mary and Paul’s house we were greeted with mountains of spaghetti and meatballs (which we quickly engulfed) and the chronicles of Joe and Paul. Both have a wall full of medals. Joe is an expert marksman, retired engineer and gunsmith (upon this realization we decided to postpone our pirating by bicycle plan to later in the trip). Paul is a 24 years old, in the US Air Force, has already made two cross country bicycle tours, and is a bike mechanic. The combined forces of Joe’s engineering know-how, Paul’s bike expertise and Mary’s (the most energetic wife and mother to have ever existed) mean cookin’ got us through the night with full bellies, a newly furbished tent junction piece (made by Joe) and finely tuned bicycle touring machines (thanks to Paul). The picture below is of Luke showing off the new tent piece.

And below Luke is a picture of Sam working hard on his bicycle

a

We crashed into our beds exhausted and ready to head off to the Mississippi, and not having a clue as to how we were to cross the flooded mess of the Midwest. (Sam pictured below, working hard on his bike)

Special thanks to Sharron, Gary, Angie, and Dave for the feasts, fireworks, showers and company!

Miles: 30

Morale: Baffled by good fortune and eager to get to Springfield

no storms

no flats

Day 12 - Through the flats and over the river.... barely

Waking up in the agape room at the Pittsfield methodist church, we were already getting a slow start. We knew breakfast was coming around 10 a.m. and did we know the extra sleep was going to come in useful. We dragged ass for a while and were asked, a couple of time, to stay until Sunday to ride with our house building brethren. We needed to make space through Illinois and so around 2 p.m. we set sail and said good-bye.

We rode and rode and then we got hungry, which is always the case with three growing boys. Straddling 106 we spot a little home grown town founded sometime in the 1850's and hit a little super value mart. Thinking we are going to have to pick and choose between Corn and Pork we stride through the automatic doors and become instantly impressed. Fresh fruit and vegetables and with further inspection this local mart has become our favorite little grocer yet along the way. And of course stares like paint color us as outsiders and we feel at home.

(Below Nick lighting the fuse and walking away)

Pushing the miles, with little wind and somewhat cloudy weather an ominous thought was about... are we going to get across the Mississippi? Up and down the exiting hills of Illinois our route was meandering and hot. Yet, to jump ship and set afloat we have always had the mission to swim in every river and lake we could make time to do so, only failing miserably. Finally pushing through some brush and burs a beautiful lake was set before us. With its large horseshoe shape and no fishing signs we disembark our bikes and peel off the damn spandex. Sam and I take a bear break and leave some peanut butter nuggets strewn throughout the small patch of forest, all the while Nick tests the waters. Seeing his floating melon bob around the lake (below) the two bushwhackers join in. Swimming and floating for around 30-45 minutes we feel recuperated and get back to the bikes, lying about the high weeds. When all the sudden a silver king cab truck rolls up the highway and a somewhat perturbed yet innocent looking fella approaches us with a few questions.

"What are you boy's doing here?"

Nick - We got hot and decided to take a dip

"Where are you boy's from?"

Trio- OHIO!

"Oh, Ok I see you boy's weren't doing nothin' wrong"

Trio- Ok? Thanks, cya.

As you can see nothing came from it but as soon as he saw all our gear and that we were from Ohio we were all the sudden saints. Who knows what the man was thinking but if he would have come minutes earlier we just might be shacked up in some corn fed prison somewhere in Illinois.

The trio sets sail yet again. Pulling our weight through a few drizzles and wacky looking cloud cover we come to a small town called Hull, population 1 or 2 I am not sure but there was no one around. Mostly because the road was closed but being cyclists and somewhat rule benders we sneak through the signs and find out just how closed the road is.

The road was definitely closed. We came to a missing chunk in the middle of a corn field and a shallow creek that may have, at one point in time, shared the power of the mighty Mississippi. The bridge as you can see above was completely awash and half way to Waco, Texas (Below).

Making it across with skill and balance, the bridge has a work around but only for cyclists and walkers (Below). Spokes flashing in our new found pride ignoring road signs and blazing our path we continue to the scary Miss. river.

Below you will see the endeavors of the local towns people to hold back such a mighty force. Tons and tons of sand piled at the banks holding down the mass a black plastic sheet secured with 12lbs bags of would you guess more sand. The area looks well drenched but devastated and washed away it was not, just put back into place by mother nature. Trying to skip over the interstate at all costs we question our options of actually crossing the river.

We scope out the interstate scene and hit it, there was little reason to go miles out of our way to find out we would have to come back to the original bridge. Anyway it would have been better than our third thought about idea... Crossing the rail road bridge, yeah I know if we weren't crazy we would have turned around in Cincinnati. We were excused by a sign, allowed to be on the interstate.

*SIGN* - No Non-motorized vehicles past this point all except bicycles and all bicycles must stay all the way right.

Cool, we cross the bridge with ease and actually a little praise from passersby and now we make it into Hannibal, MO. Home of the great Mark Twain. Let me tell you they live it up too, everything here is F'ing Mark Twain. Like every decent size town we look for a watering hole and have a pint. Kurley's had a nice scene and cute bartenders so we began our Saturday night like the others, with a drink. Nick takes charge and goes to look for a motel room for cheap, possibly hotel twain or maybe we could have stayed in the Huckleberry Inn. I tell you what if they didn't have a place called that they probably will. Nick returns with some numbers and places but none strike our fancy so we finish our beers and ready ourselves for a trip to the campground down the way. Suddenly, while I was in the john*, our savior comes in the form of a wonderfully fresh faced Hannibal named Debbie she asks " Are you guys the bikers?" Since our bikes are always in view of where we are sitting they are in view of everyone else. We say why yes how could you tell as we don our brightly colored shorts and cargo pants it's pretty obvious how she knew.

*As I was in the bathroom I am inquired to give him what is up. I say not much just recovering from a long day of cycling. He looks up at me likely ignoring where he was suppose to aim and says " No shit!" my girl works in the Barry super value mart and said oh my god Orlando Bloom came into the shop today on bicycles. Presumably that reference was toward Sam since I look like Woody Harrelson and Nick looks like Conan O'Brien.

Oh, thank you Debbie we say and she gives directions to her horse ranch (above) and lets us come at our own leisure. With high spirits and luck of the fiendish we order another round. Finishing that we make our headway towards Debbie's, giving her a call and an E.T.A the trio is bunked for yet another night. And what a place beautiful spread and cultured home open kitchen and twin beds is all we could ever ask for. We get showers and freshen up then hit the hay and sleep hoping for yet another day.

Miles: 38

Morale: Stabilized

A wonderfully refreshed thank you goes out to Debbie Dougherty for; breakfast, lunch, showers and warm bed.

Day 8 : Enter Illinois, Ride Nice Roads, Clean Pigeon Poop

We rose around 7:00, cooked bear mush (hot wheat cereal), were then treated by our distinguished host, Mr. Bill Mueller, to a round of English muffin breakfast sandwiches and a half gallon of Welch's grape juice. Bill, being the cycling enthusiast that he is, escorted us across from his house to the Indiana-Illinois border, which was about 3-4 miles from his home. As soon as we crossed into Illinois the roads became noticeably nicer, almost as if the IDOT anticipated the trio's arrival and laid down some fresh black top.

(below: Lukester keeping the bird afloat on the beautiful Illinois roads)


Our first stop in Illinois was Paris, a quaint town with a population somewhat around 10,000. Just on the southeastern fringes of Paris we spotted a Wal Mart. For the past 7 days I had been contemplating purchasing a new digital camera, one that was small enough to fit in the back pocket of my jersey and would allow us to take pictures from the moving cycles. Under normal circumstances all members of the trio avoid Wal Mart stores, but considering the fact that you really cannot buy electronics locally and the urgency of this purchase, we decided to enter into the juggernaut. From this point on, most of the pictures you see will be taken from the new Nikon Coolpix L16. The nicest thing about Wal Mart is obviously their return policy. I could essentially use this camera for 29 days and then decide that I don't like it. I would then just need to take the receipt and the camera back for a full refund. Damn you Wal Mart. Your quality selection, low prices, flexible return policy, and cold air conditioning is turning the trio into Wal Mart shoppers. (note: please don't despair; the trio is far from Wal Mart shoppers. The only products purchased at Wal Mart this trip were rechargeable batteries, a camera, and a paint pen. While buying these items, lunch was on Mr. Walton :})


(below: Sam buying his first digital camera)

(below: Sam photographed Nick and Luke as they are so intoxicated with Wal Mart they can hardly see straight)

After our venture into Wal Mart we headed into the peculiar town called Paris, Illinois. We spent most of our afternoon hanging out in Paris, mainly in their beautiful public library (pictured below: Paris library is a Carnegie building). You must remember the last heap of blog posts posted some 6 days ago, the ones that you so ravenously devoured, they were posted from the Paris Public Library.





We probably spent some 3 hours or more blogging, stretching, and chatting with the Parisians. It is for the latter that we were so thoroughly entertained. There were two young unnamed Parisian hooligans (below) who were very interested in our trip; Luke and I must have chatted with them for an hour. They not only asked us questions but filled us in with information about Paris from the perspective of one high school dropout with two kids from two different mothers and his younger friend (still attending highschool) who dates the former kid's sister. They told us who the town whore is, what kids do for fun (according to their account, mostly drugs, namely Meth and Marijuana), and they expounded on their dreams and aspirations, definitely the most touching part of the interaction.




While I was inside blogging , a foreman who was working on the road construction outside of the library named Tim Roark approached Luke. He was a cyclist who had done some touring earlier in his life. They chatted for a long time about the physical, psycho/spiritual aspects of cycling. Apparently he was so excited about what we were doing that he went home and grabbed a bunch of cycling gear, like rain pants, jerseys, and shorts, and he returned to donate them to the trio. Luke has been wearing the jersey and shorts; thanks Tim!



The Parisians were nice and inquirious souls, who left us feeling quite Bloomington. We eventually left Paris and continued on our way through Illinois. We came upon a town called Oakland, with a population somewhere below 500. It had a nice town square where stopped to snack and stretch. As we were stretching a few cars passed, a good looking woman (probably mid-30's) biked past and gave us quite the nod. Soon enough, we noticed that the same four cars were continuously circling the square (or I guess more appropriately termed squaring the square... but that just sounds goofy). At first we were wondering if trouble was brewing, maybe some burly football players or some super machismo terds wanted to mess with us. We were somewhat relieved to find out that it was in fact a swarm of high school or maybe young college aged girls. Everywhere we go we draw a lot of attention, especially from the lady folk. After swarming for a good 10 minutes, one of the girls, named Brandi, stopped her car (green Mitsubishi Eclipse) and approached us inquiring, " ya'll need some help stretching....hehe?" I was quick to reply, "sure thing, grab this leg and lift slowly until I say stop." (below: Nick and Luke being assisted by Brandi).



After our thorough stretch with Brandi and company, we hit the road for a few more hours of daylight. As the sun began to hide, we scoured the town of Arcola for a place to crash. We decided to forgo our typical stop in the town bar and find some drunks to take us home. We continued on past Arcola until we saw a sweet barn. Nick had been mentioning his desire to sleep in a barn. I decided to stop and ask the apparent owners of the barn if we could camp in their lawn. (below: barn, erected in 1908)





The wife, Mrs. Shelley Thomas, was hesitant at first. She need to go first ask her husband Mark if it was ok. After some deliberation they decided that it would be ok if we camped at their house. After granting us permission, I pressed further, "Is that your barn? ......Do you mind if we sleep their?" They explained that the barn was in complete disrepair, messy, and the loft was covered in pigeon poop. Shelley then said, " Well Mark, cleaning the barn was on your "to-do" list for this summer, how about cleaning it out now?" I then quickly interrupted and explained how the trio could reciprocate their presumed hospitality, "we could sweep out the pigeon poop." That is exactly what we did. After the cleaning we fixed an asian noodle and vegetable dinner, showed off the map, chatted with them and their daughter Mackenzie, and then hit the hay.

(below: Sam working hard for a barn roof over his head)


(below: Sam and Nick explain the route to Mr. Mark Thomas)




(below: the next morning, Luke and Nick still sleeping as the light enters through the cracks of the barn)




The Thomas Family: you rock. Thanks Mackenzie, Shelley, and Mark

miles traveresed : 54

morale: pseudo bloomington

weather: clear not much wind

no flats

what about that 3 foot map we see in every picture?

As you may remember from an earlier post. I am carrying a huge paper map of the entire conterminous United States in a indestructible (well close to it: polyurethane), waterproof tube (some 38 inches tall). Each day, one of the trio members pleasurably assumes the powerful role of de facto cartographer and draws in with a permanent marker the part of the trip traversed. Early on, I didn't know whether to use blue or red marker; after a day of riding and contemplating, it suddenly came to me; I decided to alternate days between red and blue, allowing for an instant nominal differentiation between daily commencements. Also, the red, blue, plus the overwhelming whitespace exemplifies the trio's somewhat ironic patriotism. The day number is on the South side of the map, while the mileage in on the North. (above: you will notice far right side of the map is Athens, and the far left side is Terre Haute. Click on the map (this goes for all pictures on the blog) for a larger image. Today, we are sitting in Paris Illinois in a beautiful Carnegie Library. Later tonight we will draw today's route. (Below: our buddy Bill, bolstering his geographic imagination)


A few more general notes as we are finishing our first week of travel.

Indiana has some hills similar to Athens, but more agriculture strewn in the middle.
Entering a new timezone is more fun than crossing a new political boundary (i.e. stateline), however, the roads are noticeably nicer in Illinois, than Indiana.
Indiana has more dead box turtles along the road than any states we have seen yet (18 counted).
People are so nice in the midwest. We have encountered, by my estimates, a 40:1 cool: mean ratio. Last night some passerby's called us Faggots, but then shortly after people were screaming "you are my heroes", and "I truly envy you!"

This trip rocks. Stay tuned in, as we plan to serve up the hottest journalism from an unheard of temporal scale.




Cheers
and by the way, we love all the comments.

SAM

Day 7: De-touring the once flooded E. Indiana

T’was a lovely one night stand with our rustic cabin in the strip mall lawn (pictured above). We were a little worried, of course, that we’d wake up to a fork lift dragging the house away (with us in it), or to some malcontented hobo making a fuss over us stealing his sleeping place. Our big knives held tight in our sleeping bags helped put those worries to rest. We made it up at 5:45am with no encounters, peed out the back door and pulled our stuff to the front porch to trick the authority into believing that we didn’t sleep inside. Breakfast consisted of bear mush with hickory syrup and we were on the road to Terra Haute by 7:45am.

All was normal until we rolled into Spencer, IN. The “4 mile bridge” was out and we were supposed to take the detour way around town. Of course, being the strapping young adventurers we are, we decided to make our own detour. Instead of checkin out the bridge to see if it was passable, we descended into the river valley.... (perturbing bridge pictured below)

Boy was it a mess! The area had seen its worst flooding ever and the roads were a clusterf*@/& of washed out asphalt, deep ruts and sandbanks amist a rabble of prostrate trees which had fallen victim to landslides (ok, maybe 15% was a wreck, the rest was beautiful). 7 laborious miles and one mean dog later we had found no roads to cut across and we were heading due east, so we opted to ask some road repair men (casually discussing something in a group next to their dump truck) how to get back on track. They kindly told us the best way is to go back to from where we came and walk across the bridge. Grrr, we thanked them through gritted teeth and put our 14 mile joyride behind us (Below picture is of Sam and Luke gazing into a waterlogged hill that dumped into Rattlesnake road, note the mangled gate).

We made it to the bridge, walked our bikes across and lunched under some sycamores. A service man oooed and awed over our trip and excitedly proclaimed us his heroes. Heavy napping ensued and we booked it to Terra Haute. Well, we had to stop and fill our bellies with ice cream and fried chicken at the Country Junction, then we booked it to Terra Haute (Junction pictured below).

Terra Haute was as expected…We went to Starbucks for the advertised free internet, but discovered their generosity is extended only to those who have already purchased a T-mobile plan, so we skipped on over to the public library (located in a strip mall) for a quick bit of blogging. 8pm rolled around at we opted to get out of town to find somewhere to bed down in the Illinois hills. We made it to the Wabash River when Sam snagged us a camping spot by talking to an enthusiastic man named Bill at a traffic light. He had us up to his house, we graciously accepted a few beers, ate some adulterated (samilukenick style) boxed mac and cheese, and passed out under the stars (Bill, Nick and Luke discussing life's adventures over a drink and map).

Thanks to Bill for the hospitality, beer, english muffins and the escort!

Miles: 50 (in addition to the aforementioned 14 mile detour)

Morale: Earnest enthusiasm-perturbation-relief-starbucks induced perturbation-exploding exuberance over meeting Bill

no storms

no flats

Day 6: Or how I learned to stop worrying and love... The Arby

Once you have read of Satur day/night's Hoosier fest you will understand the non-complexity and abridged nature of day 6. The day started like any other Sunday (in Athens) waking up at 11 a.m. Getting to know our poet in repose, not really she was very poetic all day, hostess we served her up a breakfast made of black bean burritos with tomato and onion.... a real heart wrencher I know.

All day we looked like those cross eyed Persian cats that lie around waiting for something to kill them. Stretching and talking of existentialism in the sun we accomplish loose zen. Finally getting all straps and buckles synced we leave Bloomington feeling Bloomington around 4:30 in the afternoon.

Making but only seven miles the trio needed calories and fast or there was going to be a triple layered crash, an energy crash, we are all very safe riders, covered with whine ass and tears. So we stop at non other than Arby's and yes I was so hungry I did eat at Arby's! After gorging, well Sam and Nick who order 4 roast beefs and cheeses continue to eat all four in the short afternoon. As the second of the RB's was consumed some ominous clouds roll over the Western horizon giving the trio a sense of relief and a reason to remain at the mustang solarium in the Arby's (pic above).

We held fast the rest of the afternoon watching as each non-thundering cumulonimbus monster cloud wisped over our heads without incidence. Well, it's really time we found shelter for the night mentioned one from the trio and we headed towards the closest bouquet of trees we could find. Seeing that the tree line ended but 6 feet past a wonderfully dangerous and possibly flood prone gully we decided to undecide for the trees. Continuing around the area we trespass around the property proving that el ranchero has nothing to offer in their dumpsters and carpet one is not that same kind of carpet that is fun to eat. We continue on after getting our bicycle out of the shed behind the Arby's. The manager actually let us put our bikes away in their utility shed, GO ARBY'S (pic below).

Finding ourselves not so very far down the road, we spot a nice looking cabin homely and quaint. Upon
further inspection was it we noticed that it had not been built but only pre-fabricated there on the spot. The unfinished look of the place made it feel as if we were in a Carter lumber looking for tree house components. Scoping the scene out for some time we decided what a nice place to stay, a place to be warm, a place to stay dry, a place we could have possibly been directly booted out on our asses from. With one eye open and all three knives by our sides we hit the sack and wait until morning... wait.... wait.... wait.

















Miles: 7

Morale: lackadaisical

possibility of storms

no flats

Day 5 : Just outside Columbus (Indiana that is) to Bloomington

Hello to all of you passive observers who are living vicariously through us from the comfort of your personal computer. Sam here. I am writing to you from the comfort of an old, beautiful, limestone house just a few blocks south of the Indiana University campus (below...wow we are living large).


Yesterday, just outside of Columbus Indiana we rose early and had oatmeal for breakfast; because we camped beneath a very fruitful mulberry tree (fruitful fruit tree ?, how appropriate) , we were able to jazz up our hot cereal, and was it ever delightful. After breakfast, Gary gave us some valuable local knowledge about what route to take through Columbus, which he assumed would save us 6 miles or so (very top: pictured with our respective machines).

On the west side of Columbus we found a bike path that ran parallel to Hwy 46 and stopped off to do some early morning streching. On the path, we ran into several bikers, one of whom stopped and chatted for a while. I of course broke out the map and explained the route. He was very nice and gave us directions to an organic food co-op in Bloomington called Bloomingfoods.

The trip from Columbus to Bloomington was around 40 miles; as soon as we left Columbus the terrain became quite similar to that of Athens and 46 reminded us of our bit of traveling through Vinton county on Hwy 50. The traffic volume was pretty heavy the whole day with tons of other 2-wheeled chariots (albeit of the motorized sort), not surprising considering it was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon.

Bloomingfoods is located on the east side of town directly off of 46. We decided to stock up on certain foods that are rare to find at Citgo stations: like panjabi (which was the best canned food Nick has ever tasted : delicious!), red wine (Oak Vineyards $3.99), and our new favorite superfood: Chia seeds, also called water crest seeds. I imagine you all still remember the Chia Pet, am I right? Well, the Chia seeds are the same seeds that you would place on your ceramic sheep, but instead of creating a nicely manicured grass sheep, you place them in water for 20 minutes, allowing their seed coat to change into a gelatinous halo. This gelatinous mass resembles frog eggs that you would find at the edge of the lake. Our old tandem lovers (Erika and Keith) recommended them to us, and they explained that Aztec messengers were some of the first people to utilize the powers of the Chia seed.

After we bought all the goods, we went outside to the store's picknic tables (above) to feast upon the bounty (including: turkey, yogurt, wine, hommus, tomatoes and so on). In the middle of the feast, cumulonimbus clouds (the tall, dark, T-storm kind of clouds) developed right above the city. We covered and secured the bikes, anticipating a menacing storm; however, the storm went South. While the storm was brewing, I went inside to purchase some raspberries to fancy up the yogurt. I decided to go to the same cashier who checked us out the first time (and checked us out she did...hehe...tight bike shorts....hehe). After some lively discussion she (Carolyn Schilling) invited us to camp in her yard. We then headed over to the Mall just a few parking lots away; we needed fuel, cinch straps, and tent parts (below: Luke and Sam slam high fives, while exchanging presents in the middle of the mall)

After our trip to the Bloomington Mall, we road around campus a bit looking for a place to access the web and bath. We found the library and were quite disappointed to discover that we had to be students to use the facility. To log on to the wireless we needed a student identification and passcode. So I found a student who was tutoring some Korean students in English (apparently Indiana University has quite the sizable Korean population); he was willing to blatantly break the law and allow us access to the internet, because I told him that YOU, our readers, would really appreciate it (below: Nick using our mobile office in the lobby of the IU student center).

We then met Carolyn back at her house. Since we were not able to find access to a shower on campus she graciously allowed us to use hers. After everyone was good and clean she escorted us to this restaurant called Farm. It is a local/organic restaurant with a hip bourban cellar in the basement. We didn't eat in the restaurant, instead, we went to the basement where her friend was spinning funk records. There we all dined upon bison burgers and drinks, and then continued to dance to funk into the wee hours (below: Nick grooving and posing, while our lovely hostess, Carolyn, takes it all in).

It was only necessary to spend a few minutes in Bloomington before deciding to revamp our morale scale; we gave it a new upper bound. Now, the highest morale is not high, or extremely high: morale superlative is BLOOMINGTON.

A special funk-laden thanks goes out to Carolyn Schilling. Your great dance moves, good taste in Whiskey, and overall attention to our every need was much appreciated.

miles: 45

morale: Bloomington

no storms.

no flats.

SAM

Day 4:Trespassin through Indiana

After being pampered and entertained with good company(above Christine and Karla Sanders), mattresses for the night, pancakes for breakfast, and a deer chasing dachshund, the burly biker boys set off for the state line...

We couldn't have asked for better weather as we cruised through the last of the gorgeous Ohio hills and descended onto the Indiana border. Indiana is a bit hillier than expected, but still doesn't compare to the brutal climbs we faced between Chillicothe and Cincinnati. Lunch called around 2pm as we rolled into the Greensburg, IN parking lot (below). The librarians were all up in a buzz about the recent pitbull attack down the road (yikes!) and after telling me all about the horrrific details, they gave us a wireless access for our laptop. After a lazy lunch of salami, cheese, zatarans and internet we split town for Columbus, IN (~35 miles away). The riding was easy and we held a hard 16 mph until a firefighters fishfry and lazy river bank lured us into setting up camp for the night alongside the remnants of a rerouted highway...

Jumping into the cool river was terribly enticing, so we unpacked, stripped down to our skimpy black spandex and were ready to jump in when a heavily accented and rather perturbed voice called out from across the river tellin us that we is trespassin on well marked land, and to git off! awww shucks...so much for swimmin...

To avoid any lead shot flyin over our heads we opted to split quick and head down the road for better camping. Second farmhouse we came to was a hit. A soybean/corn farmer named Gary let us camp in his yard and we had a restfull sleep under the stars, bellies full of spam. shallots, mulberries, and noodles. After the big feast we tried in sneak in some stretching before an early night heads clanking the pillows at 9:00; as evidenced below, Sam stretching before bed. The weather was fantastic, which was a damn good thing considering we seem to have misplaced one of the tent "bones" and can no longer erect our tent. More on that issue to come ;]

A warm thank you to our favorite (of course self-titled) Southern Indiana-Redneck-Farmer: Gary Huffman. Your hospitality was invaluable!

miles: 57
morale: extremely high
weather: still no rain and quite pleasant temps

Day 3 and to go....

Well, a defining moment in the lives of the trio... DO NOT RIDE THROUGH THE CITY... what an expirience. Horribly small curbs and dangerously heavy metal rearing down on you with Mcdonalds and Burger King bags strewn throughout the cabs. Today was a good easy day. We went through some really beautiful land, once outside of Cinci. All we had a head of us, once we left Montgomery was just a jaunt in the whole scheme of things to arrive in Harrison Ohio on the border of Ohio and Indiana, and we made it so no worries. Also, sadly we have departed ways with our out of Athens escort, Keith and Erika (see above). They left about an hour or two before our departure at around 5 p.m. Below a beautiful view facing into the setting sun as we prepare to ride down the steepest slope we have ridden thus far. Directly after the picture was taken, an inquisitive old lady across the street stopped cutting the grass for a minute and said, " are you guys going to ride your bicycles down Springdale Rd? That hill is steep.... I would just like you to be careful." Of course we didn't know what to say except "sure...thanks for advice."

A huge thank you goes out to the Sanders; Karla, Bruce and Christine for housing us up for the night.

Miles: 35

Tomorrows destination: Columbus, Indiana by way of 46

Day 2: to Cincinnati 75 miles

The next morning, Rick braved his hangover and treated us to his stock of venison burgers and eggs. Mmmm, a greasy delight. We took off at 9am from Rick and Mooch's, bright eyed and ready for the 100 miles to Cincinnati (Stanich 2008). All morning, just like the previous day we saw riders heading east. Apparently we were riding on the same road as the participants in the Race Across America http://www.raceacrossamerica.org/. As we slowly crept by taking the head winds directly in the face, these riders had a van carrying all of their gear as they set sail towards Annapolis Maryland. They had departed from Oceanside California on June 8th and were almost finished in a week and a half....damn!


The ride was not as easy as we expected. Vinton County to Chillicothe was a nice warm up and after a quick pit stop at the Bike Shop we shoved off for Cincinnati. Quite surprisingly the guys at the bike shop were unenthusiastic about our ventures. Outside of Chillicothe however, the headwind picked up full force against us, and the hills just wouldn't go away. Since we left Athens we were traveling on U.S. Highway 50, however, just on the north west side of Chillicothe 50 breaks more West (Southwest) with highway 28. We decided to take 28, which was much more pleasant; we didn't see very much traffic on 28 and the landscape was gorgeous, alternating from agricultural to rolling hills (below windy wheat fields).


Sometime in the afternoon we came upon a quaint house on the side of the road with a sign that read: Honey and Honey Comb for sale. Of course we stopped. I ran up to the house and purchased some of both. When I got back to the driveway, where the rest of the gang was waiting, we immediately delved into the sticky mess. After 6 minutes of gorging on bee spittle, the honey salesman, named Myron Liming, came out and offered us his house to wash our hands, and then preceded to invite us back and see his bees.



Our goal was to ride from Chillicothe to my (Sam's) Aunt Dana's house in NW Cincinnati (100 miles) ; we, however, ran out of daylight around 75 miles, in a town called Blanchester. Dana found a neighbor's suburban with a bike rack and picked us up; so we cheated a little, atleast 25 miles of non-exclusive bike travel. When we arrived we had a warm welcome of spaghetti and hot-tub. Since we have been here, my Aunt can't keep food on the table, she keeps making food and we keeping putting it away.

After a relaxing dip in the tub, we all did some laundry and the heads hit the pillow around 2:00 a.m.



Day 2 6/18/08
mileage: 75
hours: 12
morale: medium high
sunburn: somewhat evident

Thanks to the entire Yengo family for putting us up and putting up with us.

Day 1 Athens to Chillicothe (or close enough)

5 hours and 40 miles outside of Athens we found ourselves three rounds and ten pickled eggs deep in our favorite house of drink, Club Vinton; we'll get to that in a few:)... The farewell was a blast, a big greasy breakfast (above) party on the porch with bunches of energetic goodbyes. The five of us (Erika and Keith are riding in tandem with us to Cincinnati) tore off Hanlin Hill on our tankish bikes and barreled into the hills of Appalachia. All went well the first 20 miles, until the tandem decided to blow the front tube. So we patched it and went on, and then we lost the back tube. So we patched it and went on, for about mile, and then the patches didn't hold...so we gave em new tubes and rode a few more miles to Club Vinton, to refresh with some eggs and beer...

Twas about 5pm and we struck it well with Rick and Mooch. They offered to have us up for the night and we took em up on it. So we rode out of Club Vinton and off to their place (6 miles up the road) feelin better than we should have:) Rick and Mooch's place is gorgeous, nestled into a bit of a valley just of off Route 50. Mooch had most of her family up and Rick brought out the special stock of peach brandy for us all. Went to bed in our tents feeling warm and satisfied with the days fortunate happenings.

Day One
Miles: ~45
Hours: ~7
Morale: Very High
Sunburn: Nuthin

Much thanks to Rick and Mooch for the company, brandy, deer meat and tent space!

And we are offffffff

Howdy ya'll

Nick here...

After a long and exciting caffine laden night of packing and three hours of sleep with Sam, Luke and our amazing Amanda we are ready to move out:) So, i'm getting my slouchy-butt off this computer chair and sprinting off to our farewell break fast glut of potatoes, bacon, eggs, coffee and bread...mmmmmmmm.....this'll feel nice in a few hours...

we are eagerly awaiting any word from family and friends, so comment awayyy


And on a slightly different note...
since the bike trip is only delaying my re-entry into the real world by 2.5 months, i decided to commit myself to a volunteer internship in Bolivia that will last anywhere from 2-10 months after the bike trip is over. It is all unpaid and I need to fund raise for it. If you'd like more information, or to donate, check out my Bolivia blog:

http://nick-in-bolivia.blogspot.com/

Suckling Athens teat for another day..

Hey there to all interested parties, I have some news (Luke). The departure date for Monday, June 16 has been postponed to Tuesday, June 17. Really, one day not a big deal, just thought I would keep you up to date with the ongoings. I am rocking out to Portishead in my basement apartment going through bike maintenance 101. Changing my tires from L.A. Gear to Doc Martins heavy duty workers. Not too strenuous, I am just covered in grease and road dust. Well, here is to an extra day sitting in full chairs and appreciating the breeze.

So You're Riding Cross Country, What's the Route?

Hello. Sam here.
I wanted to give you a cartographic depiction of the proposed route, and introduce the beautiful map of the U.S. I just bought: the map is from Allan Cartography of Medford Oregon (www.ravenmaps.com).

This map is the same map that is framed in the hallway of the Ohio University Geography Dept.; I have spent countless hours gazing at the map and envisioning our route. When people want to know about the trip, I take them to the map. I am going to roll this map (3'x5') up, place it in a polyurthethane tube, strap it to the back of my bike, and travel the entirety of the trip with it. Every night I will mark the route traversed and then take a picture of the map and post it on this blog. When we are in some diner in Kiawatha, Kansas, I can roll out the map and allow any inquirious soul to imagine our trip across space.

This map is regarded by the cartographic community as one of the best. I am fortunate to have been given permission from the cartographer, Stuart Allan, to use the map during the trip and then afterwords when creating an interactive map. Also, I am using his Benchmark Atlas series for planning our route through Wyoming, Idaho, and Oregon. The Benchmark series (www.benchmarkmaps.com) are invaluable tools for exploring the country; however, are currently only available for 10 western states.

So anyway, how about that route? Well... we are leaving from Athens, Ohio on June 16th. We will hold a fairly steady line of latitude from Athens to Denver, only deviating probably 20 miles north and south. During the trip we will blog in much deeper detail about crossing the midwest and the plains, but for now, I will leave you with simply the mileage: Denver is ostensibly the half way point, at least in terms of mileage, at 1,600 miles. In Denver, we plan to rest for a good day or two, spending time with some family: my Uncle Scott, his wife Bronwyn, their sons Lowell and Fletcher, my brother Zach and his wife Audrey.

After some good time eating, sleeping, and tuning up the bikes, we will head north (possibly with Zach and Scott) to Laramie Wyoming. From Laramie, we will head northwest across the state of Wyoming to Yellowstone. From Yellowstone, we will head south to Jackson, WY and see the Grand Tetons. After the Tetons we will follow the Snake River Valley through Idaho. The Snake River Valley, also called the Banana Plain, is where you find the dense agriculture and population of Idaho. On our way out of Idaho we will pass through Boise; we will then be positioned about at the southern 1/3 of Oregon. We will pass through Bend Oregon and then Eugene. Our final Pacific destination is Florence Oregon. Depending on what time we reach Florence we may head north or south up the Pacific Coast HWY. Also, we hopefully will have enough time to go and see Crater Lake.

Nick and I have purchased plane tickets to leave from Eugene on Friday August 29th--Luke is currently unsure of his departure time. If we average 50 miles a day (ranging 30-100) I imagine we should arrive in Florence around the 20th of August.

I have received requests for some biographical context. So hopefully soon, along with a gear list we will post them.

Cheers
SAM

Anxiously Awaiting the Departure

With only a little over 3 weeks left before the commencement of our bike trip, we decided it was time to post some pictures and tell you all what we have been doing in preparation for the trip. A few weeks back, the trio headed out for a 60 mile, fully-loaded trip to Chillicothe. Our intention was to camp in Chillicothe and then come back the next morning. Because of inclement weather (cold windy rain) we didn't make it all the way to Chillicothe; instead, we camped out at a state park about 14 miles southeast of Mcarthur called Lake Rupert. We are pictured (above) outside of Club Vinton, which is an illustrious watering hole about 7 miles west of Mcarthur. We were considerably enlivened after a beer and some pickled eggs. (Below: Luke and I setting up camp Further Below: the bike fully loaded behind Club Vinton)





This trip was our first attempt to ride distance with fully loaded panniers. It was certainly a lot of work, and highlighted the difficulty of riding with unwieldy loads through uncomfortable weather. However surprisingly difficult this dry run (or more appropriately wet run) seemed, it was a splendid time.

More, soon to come.
SAM