Tuesday, June 30, 2009

15: In Which Our Lives and Our Trip are in Danger

Stoker's Log Day Fifteen

6/30/09

From Dayton, OH

To Richmond, IN

40.8 miles

9.1 avg mph

This morning we had Kate and Justin to see us off and to take a rare photo of us from more than an arm's length away.

They also compensated for our forgetfulness, driving after us to drop off a water bottle that we had left behind at the motel. Our other roadside encounter of the morning was much stranger: as we rode past a car dealership a very excited man held out $20 to me and shouted "Take it! You need it! Good Luck! Yay!" It was confusing, but much appreciated nonetheless.

When we reached Englewood we stopped for supplies at an Alto grocery store. I had never experienced Alto before; the selection is sparse and apparently at some of the stores you have to deposit a quarter in order to use a cart, but the prices simply can't be beat. I bought a bag of bagels and a handful of super cheap energy bars; unfortunately I got what I paid for with the latter and most of them ended up in the trash. Next to the Alto was a Goodwill, so I popped in to look for a sweater so that when we went out at night I wouldn't have to choose between wearing a dirty long sleeved cycling shirt or freezing in just a tanktop. Well, I was supposed to just pop in, but between their large selection and my shopping withdrawal I spent quite a while in there before coming out with a nice black sweater and a pair of shiny blue baller shorts to wear over my spandex during lunch breaks. I was excited to break them out when we stopped at Sarah's, a pizza and sub shop that looked like a rundown auto shop from the outside but was filled with delicious food and friendly people on the inside.

I was also still shaken up by a terrifying event that happened earlier in the day. We were riding on the shoulder of a main road when a red pickup roared past, then swerved away from us into the other lane. The driver rushed back towards his own lane but overcorrected and ploughed head first into the guard rail, bending it way out of shape. Fortunately the driver was unharmed, and his truck was tall enough to be barely damaged by the crash. He said he saw we were too close to the road (we weren't) and swerved to avoid us (with a delayed reaction, since he was well beyond us before he swerved). Kyle was pretty sure he was inebriated, even though it was just past 10:00 on a Tuesday morning. We're always on edge when we ride at night or through construction zones and big cities, but this was a sobering reminder that accidents can happen at any time, and that in most situations it isn't the automobile that fares the worst. A woman who witnessed the incident from up the road stopped to ask if we were okay, and when I saw the motherly panic in her eyes I knew that I couldn't tell my parents about our close call, at least not right away. (But I guess now they know, and hopefully forgive me.)

One upside of our alternatingly boring and harrowing ride was its brevity. We only had to make it to Richmond, IN, 40 miles away. That way a 70 mile ride the next day would put us just outside of Indianapolis, a crowded city with a horrible cycling reputation that we wanted to cross before sunrise the following day. So, just after crossing the border (yay!), we got into town in time for a proper dinner at one of my favorite places: Cracker Barrel, land of Stewarts sodas and oh so much starchy goodness.

I thought we would follow dinner with a normal, relaxing evening where I would blog or organize photos and Kyle would route plan. But Kyle had news that would throw our trip in jeopardy and leave us confused, desperate, and depressed. He had finally had a chance to look through maps of the west in detail, and he didn't like what he saw. "There's a 130 mile stretch in Wyoming with no amenities whatsoever." Clearly I had heard him incorrectly. Not only would we have to ride 130 miles from motel to motel, but there would be no bathrooms, food, or water on the way? "Probably few cars and spotty cell service as well." So not just inconvenient, but terrifyingly unsafe; what if we happened to get stranded that day? "Actually it looks like many of the motels in Wyoming, Montana, and eastern Oregon are about 100 miles apart." So we would be riding a series of centuries through uninhabited wilderness with no support or back up plan if we got stranded by bike problems or delayed by a head wind or injured by the long rides or surrounded by a storm or...or...or... It seemed impossible, or difficult and highly risky at best. We just kept looking at each other and the maps without anything hopeful to offer. We didn't want to quit now, but we also didn't want to go through weeks of pain and sacrifice in the midwest only to turn around and fly home before completing the trip. And how were we supposed to decide between the risk of riding across the west and the shame and disappointment of giving up? We talked about buying camping equipment but that would only solve some of our problems (and considering my hatred of and inexperience with camping it could create several new ones). It was all so demoralizing... and especially frustrating for me. On the one hand I couldn't get mad at Kyle since he had taken the enormous responsibility of route planning all on his shoulders, but at the same time I felt like he had gotten us into this massive undertaking without finding out or telling me what it really entailed. It didn't matter how much energy and effort we put towards the trip, unfinished planning and an inhospitable route might ruin everything. Our discussions circled uselessly and we just got increasingly glum. We finally gave up on long term planning and went to sleep, determined to ride as far as Indianapolis but unsure of anything beyond it.

| posted at: 08:30 | permanent link and comments

Monday, June 29, 2009

14: Headwinds and Hamlet Hunting

Stoker's Log Day Fourteen

6/29/09

From Columbus, OH

To Dayton, OH

78.8 miles

9.6 avg mph

This morning we overslept, which very rarely happens on Kyle's watch. We blamed the comfy cloud bed and got going as quickly as we could after bidding farewell to my parents. We had to be ready as soon as our feet hit the pedals since our ride started with a sprint through construction and heavy traffic. My knees didn't appreciate the experience, but at least it was a nice, cool morning. Plus we saw alpacas and LLAMAS!

Also spotted: Ronald McDonald lurking on someone's porch. That's right, he's at it again, and this time I caught him on camera.

(Seriously though, who is buying or stealing these old Ronalds? It boggles the mind.)

Meanwhile the weather -- or more specifically the wind -- had turned against us. Facing a relentless headwind is one of the most frustrating and demoralizing obstacles that a cyclist can face. We crawled along as if we were struggling up a steep incline, but we couldn't see the mountain and we never reached the summit. We kept pedaling and pedaling without getting anywhere or seeing anything; the barren surroundings passed by in excruciatingly slow motion. We couldn't even talk because we could barely hear each other over the wind. When we spotted a Wendy's in the midst of this nothingness we stopped with a sigh of relief; it wasn't close to lunchtime but we needed the physical and mental break.

When we emerged the wind had only worsened, and it wasn't long before Kyle's saddle and hand numbness were driving him crazy. I eventually talked him into switching with me; if nothing else it would give us some much needed variety. In the end I only captained for 12 miles, but against the wind it felt like an eternity. Occasionally the highway split into old and new and we rode through stretches of neighborhood, an oasis for our bored eyes and shaded to boot. Unfortunately I learned the downside of neighborhoods: people live there, and people own dogs. As we passed a woman gardening, her black and white mutt tore off after us. Somehow I managed to steer the bike while keeping a panicked eye on the dog, yelling at Kyle to grab the Halt, and pedaling as hard and as fast as I possibly could. To my relief we managed to outrun the dog without having to spray it, but going from a slow push to an all out sprint brought on a lot of pain for both of us. The long, brutal day continued, and continued to get worse.

As I may have mentioned once or twice, there was almost nothing on this section of US 40. Getting to a bathroom meant turning off for a several mile detour each time; no big deal on a normal day, but highly frustrating with crosswinds buffeting us both ways. We were always overjoyed to see each oasis though. At one of the gas stations Kyle got so excited about their giant 89 cent drinks that he reminded me of the ridiculous guy on the posters.

See the resemblance to the goofball on the door?

As we rode through downtown Springfield I started seeing signs referencing Wittenberg University. Suddenly it hit me: this was the Wittenberg University I had discovered years before on the internet when I was looking for Hamlet themed products. (I'm more than a little obsessed with the play.) Of course Hamlet went to the one in Germany, but I had always wanted to visit the American version to buy myself a shirt and get postcards for my English nerd friends. And now I unexpectedly had my chance, assuming Kyle would agree to the not insignificant detour. Luckily I have a wonderful husband, even when headwinds have addled his brains. We consulted the Garmin and made our way towards the university, which turned out to be a longer and more difficult trip than we expected. I said a lot of guilty thank-yous to Kyle and fist pumped in relief when we finally spotted the school's banners. We rode along a brick pathway through the heart of campus until we spotted the student union building. I hopped off the bike and ran inside, only to find the bookstore closed. Curse you stupid summer hours! I asked the girl at the information desk if Wittenberg paraphernalia was sold anywhere else in town, but she wasn't optimistic. I was rather devastated, I'll be honest, but at least we got to photograph the campus and a statue that I pretended was Hamlet in a letterman's jacket and loafers.

And the search for a piece of Hamlet, even (or especially) if unsuccessful, perfectly fit the feeling of the day. Not only had we both started going a little insane, but I seemed to have mortality on my subconscious. Every time I commented on a beautiful or interesting sight in Springfield it turned out to be connected to death: a funeral parlor that I thought was a mansion, a cemetery entrance that looked like a park, a hearse that seemeed like a super sweet ride. It got rather ridiculous, and I was expecting to see ghosts by the end of our time there.

Soon enough we were back in rural and windy Ohio, but we were nearing our destination and our mood improved with every pedal stroke as we watched sun rays break through the clouds. Awaiting us near Dayton were Kyle's friends Kate and Justin and a Super 8 room that seemed to be decorated just for us:

Finally done with the day and out of the wind, we took turns collapsing on the bed and showering before joining Kate and Justin for dinner at Ruby Tuesday's. In between giant helpings of never-ending salad we talked about Ohio (where they live but are trying to escape) and of course our trip. Both of them are mountain bikers, so they understand our love of cycling more than most, just not how we do it on such boring routes (and after today we couldn't really argue). They asked what we'd learned so far, an excellent question that would take a lot of time and thought to answer fully. On a personal level we've learned an incredible deal about our limits and our strengths, and that if we're willing to seem absolutely crazy (and clearly we are) humor really can conquer all. On a practical level we've learned that no matter how much we drink we'll always be thirsty, no matter how much we sleep we'll always be tired, and no matter how much we plan every day will surprise us.

Here's to whatever surprises tomorrow holds...

| posted at: 08:30 | permanent link and comments

Sunday, June 28, 2009

13: Columbus and Chihuly

Stoker's Log Day Thirteen

6/28/09

From Newark, OH

To Columbus, OH

60.8 miles

12.2 avg mph

As we neared Anne's neighborhood we were unpleasantly surprised by steep hills that nearly destroyed Kyle's knees, but soon we returned to flats and farms. I managed to restrain myself from taking more photos of cows and corn, which were everywhere. We then passed through rundown neighborhoods with torn up pavement and opulent neighborhoods with breathtaking private schools on our way to Columbus, a city which will always be characterized in my mind by gorgeous ancient churches and restaurants with "Dragon" in their name. I really wanted to stop to tour the Conservatory and other attractions, but Kyle quite logically wanted to get through the busiest parts of the city as quickly and as early as possible. Besides, my parents could drive us around Columbus when they met up with us later. That's right, they had driven from PA the night before, partly to see us and partly because my dad never turns down the chance to visit a new minor league ballpark. And suddenly there they were, right beside us! They spotted us and pulled over to discuss plans for the day and offered to buy us coffee or a snack, generosity which sadly failed since both Duncan Donuts and Starbucks were closed. (What is this place, and how does it call itself a city?) They were on their way to the Conservatory but were happy to delay their plans so that we could go too; they instead drove to the old baseball stadium and then on to the hotel to wait for us there. I don't think we offered the triumphant and exciting arrival they expected, however; our chain popped off in the midst of a construction zone where there was nowhere to pull off and fix it so we ended up coasting slowly and undramatically into the hotel parking lot.

The hotel was a Hampton Inn, which was amazing compared to our usual motels. The bed was a cloud and the shower was heaven. I think the room may have known it was too swanky for us, however, because we kept getting hurt in it; I nearly poked my eye out with the flag pole while searching through the bags and before Kyle had stopped laughing at me he clocked his head on one of the counters. I can see it now: "Couple's Cross-Country Trip Cut Short by Their Klutziness Off of the Bike."

Clean, happy, and mostly in one piece, we headed to the Franklin Park Conservatory, a wonderland of giant windows, exotic plants, and Chihuly glass. If you aren't familiar with Chihuly -- and somehow I wasn't -- he is a renowned glass artist who suffered partial blindness and other injuries but continues to create amazing pieces with the help of a team of artists. The conservatory's exhibits seamlessly combined his work with their plants, animals, and architecture. It was a wonderful sight and I vacillated between wanting to photograph everything and wanting to sit back and take it all in. (You can tell that the first impulse frequently won.)

We enjoyed ourselves in the conservatory for quite a while and still had time to walk around the renovated areas near the new stadium before heading to the Clippers' game. I found myself falling in love with Columbus. The stadium itself was also great, especially the sections in the outfield open to the street so that anyone walking by can watch the game for free. We also got to see the game for free, actually, thanks to one of my dad's many friends in the minor league baseball world. (He also just happened to know one of the umpires.) And we were treated to one of the more impressive between-inning acts I've ever seen: "Quick Change." The premise is simple -- a couple changes their outfits, hairstyles, etc. in lightning speed with only a flash of fabric or shower of confetti masking them from the audience -- but it's really quite impressive to watch in person.

Competing for our attention was the entertaining family behind us; the father kept asking his young daughter "Would you rather be at this game or _____" and realizing that she would pretty much rather be anywhere else, including school. The Clippers also had racing food products, always a good choice, and their seal mascot named LouSeal (which is mildly amusing unless you're an Arrested Development fan, in which case it is incredibly amusing.)

The game itself was fantastic, lasting thirteen innings before the Clippers gave up a run to lose 8-7. Unfortunately, we only saw eleven of those innings. I'm very stubborn about staying until the end of exciting games (and sometimes even really boring games, I'll be honest) but eventually I got tired and hungry enough to give in to the rest of the family. I probably pushed myself too far, because I was in bad shape as we drove across the world and back trying to find a restaurant. We finally ended up at an Applebees and life improved considerably when I had some food in me. When we made it to the hotel I was more than ready to hit the sack. And by sack I mean cloud. Sweet dreams everyone.

| posted at: 08:29 | permanent link and comments

Saturday, June 27, 2009

12: Pampered Tourists

Stoker's Log Day Twelve

6/27/09

Rest Day Two in Granville, OH

We started our day at the farmer's market, enjoying homemade fruit tarts for breakfast and watching Anne's superpower: the ability to knit or spin anytime, anywhere.

She also dyes her own wool, by the by.

When we got back from the market our wedding gift from Anne was waiting for us: massages from her friend, who not only massages people but also works on horses and just a few days ago brought her dog back to life with her magic hands after it was crushed by a fence. I don't think many other masseuses can put "literal miracle worker" on their resume.

When we were (reluctantly) done luxuriating and devouring Anne's handmade pizza with fresh mozzarella, we decided to play tourist, so Anne took us to The Hopewell Mounds. The mounds are, well, mounds of dirt. They aren't that impressive to look at from the ground...

...but from the air they form precise geometric shapes, and the history and mystery behind them are actually rather fascinating. The geometric earthworks were constructed sometime in the first few centuries AD by a people known only by "Hopewell," the name of the farmer who owned the property when the works were rediscovered. They seem to be burial mounds but they have also been found to correspond to lunar and other astronomical cycles. Basically no one can be sure about anything about them, but the theories are certainly interesting.

We learned all of this in the one room museum and then wandered the park for a while. Kyle amused himself by documenting my photoaddiction:

We also walked through moth hatching season; without warning the trees were filled with their cocoons and the air with their fluttering bodies.

My other entomological moment of the day was FINALLY discovering the purpose of the purple boxes we had spotted hanging from trees throughout the Laurel Highlands.

Apparently they are used to measure the Emerald Ash Borer population, an insect that wreaks havoc on the local trees. I'm glad that Anne's mother started talking about them because the mystery had been bothering me for days. (Often there wasn't much to look at or think about on those endless uphills.)

Our final tourist stop was at the impressive Bryn Du Mansion, but a wedding was about to begin there so we only got a quick peek inside the gates. I was especially sad that our visit didn't coincide with the polo matches that sometimes take place on the ample front grounds.

Then it was back to the house for our favorite things: delicious food and complete relaxation, the kind that occasionally let us forget that tomorrow we'll be back on the road again... at sunrise.

Here's to our absolutely wonderful hosts... and to their hammocks...

| posted at: 08:29 | permanent link and comments

Friday, June 26, 2009

11: I Could Get Used To This

Stoker's Log Day Eleven

6/26/09

Rest Day in Granville, OH

Ahhhhh...relaxation. Staying with Anne's family is like staying at a friend's bed and breakfast, chocolate mints and in-room coffee maker included. After a restful night in the four poster guest bed we were treated to a delicious breakfast that went a long way towards curing our fresh fruit withdrawal. We enjoyed some down time and then headed off to the bike shop as soon as it opened, with a tour of Granville and Newark from Anne's mom on the way. The shop specialized in recumbents and other atypical bicycles, which is a good sign when you're riding something as strange as our contraption. We were relieved to learn that we probably weren't carrying excessive weight and that we could replace our back wheel with a narrower one to solve the frame rub problem.

We left the bike in good hands and returned to the house to meet Bob Rush, a friend of Anne's family who has completed many amazing endurance adventures over the years, most recently biking the Lewis and Clark trail from Ohio to Oregon. He shared his photos and stories (he has links on the local bike club's website) and gave us advice on how to navigate the worst cities on our route. He also warned us about the challenges ahead, like increasingly unhealthy food options and unavoidable bike problems, but above all he was excited about our trip and just happy to talk touring cycling.

After a relaxing afternoon we headed back to the bike shop and then on to the famous Longaberger Basket. We just missed their open hours but could sneak a peek at their impressive lobby.

Then it was off to the beautiful library where Anne works....

...followed by the barn where she works her horses.

Kyle quickly made some new canine friends (and made me make friends with them too)

After a driving tour of the Denison campus it was back to the house for a delicious dinner and good conversation on the screened-in porch. Afterward we joined some of Anne's high school friends for drinks downtown (though drinks for me meant water since I forgot that my ID was buried in our bags). We talked about everything from crazy college shenanigans to the library funding crisis until it was time for us to get back and turn in. Tomorrow we're taking another day off to be pampered tourists. It is definitely going to be hard to leave here...

| posted at: 08:28 | permanent link and comments

Thursday, June 25, 2009

10: Small Miracles and a Harrowing Hundred

Stoker's Log Day Ten

6/25/09

From St. Clairsville, OH

To Newark, OH

100 miles

10 avg mph

With 112 miles to cover we needed an early start, and by some miracle we were ready to leave at sunrise. By another miracle the hotel breakfast was already out, so we could grab a quick bite before departing. We had a pleasant start; as much as I hate waking up early, I do like riding at sunrise. Maybe I'll admit that to Kyle someday. It wasn't long, however, before we noticed a familiar sqeaking and slowing; our wheel was rubbing against the frame, again. Kyle was worried that our problem was weight; the bike, the gear, and the two of us probably weigh almost 400 pounds all told (I'm always tempted to go to a truck weigh station and find out exactly) and much of it is focused on the back wheel. We tore through our bags, pulled out everything we could spare to send home, and mailed it away at the first available Post Office. We managed to lose 8 pounds of stuff; Kyle was astounded and kept yelling "8 Pounds!?!" at random points throughout the day. We also switched seats so that Kyle, who weighs more, would be over the front wheel instead of the back. It was my first time captaining on this trip, and I was initially terrified every time a car passed us. Kyle was probably terrified as well since I was wobbling all over the shoulder of the road. Eventually I settled in and straightened out - for the most part. You'll notice I even managed to smile for the day's self-shot. Unfortunately none of our strategies seemed to work; the wheel rub was just as bad if not worse. We eventually switched back, resigned ourselves to a slow and squeaky ride, and took solace in the existence of a good bike shop near Anne's house.

As we entered rural Ohio the cars were replaced by tractors and the buildings by hay bales. School buses apparently grew in rows along with the crops.

It was peaceful and open, and the yellow buggy signs reminded me of home. The charm soon wore off, of course; picturesque farmland is still pretty boring. For a while we occupied ourselves by watching three soaring birds that followed us for miles, circling far above us. We couldn't tell if they were hawks or buzzards, i.e. whether we looked like easy prey or near corpses.

We were hungry ourselves, so we stopped for a picnic lunch in a park pavilion near Quaker City (not actually a city). We had bagels with peanut butter - I of course added honeynut cheerios to mine - and talked to Steve and Daniel, two local guys who were eating at the next table. On our way out, the already charming park won a very special place in my heart by offering a freshly emptied and cleaned port-a-potty. I never thought I would be so lucky in my lifetime.

After a long stretch of riding in the hot, open country, we happened upon the Sugar Shack, which (like all of the other Sugar Shacks I've been to over the years) had delicious milkshakes. They also had - if you can believe it - a freshly cleaned port-a-potty. Lightning does strike twice. To add to its charm, the store's walls were decorated with the dancing food products that you see in movies about old movies and the parking lot bumpers were painted with rainbows.

In the dining area was, of all things, an exercise machine. I assume the owners were storing it there to save space or use it after hours, but I liked to imagine customers hopping on it after finishing some giant dessert. We had our own way to burn calories, however, so we reluctantly climbed back on the bike. I was glad to be into gently rolling hills but my foot, achilles, and knee pain wasn't letting up yet.

We soon found the holy grail of touring cyclists: a paved and shaded bike path...

...followed all too soon by the bane of any touring cyclist's existance: endless road construction.

I'm not exaggerating by much when I say endless. There were at least 20 miles of cones, signs, and dangerously narrowed road for less than a mile of actual work being done. When we asked one of the flaggers how long the construction lasted she just laughed at us and then gave us a very bitchy "No" when we asked to ride in the coned off section of the road where it was safer. I hate ODOT already.

Finally we emerged from the construction zone of doom and hit some really nice riding, including downhills and even a bike lane (!). Unfortunately around mile 90 it started to rain. It was getting colder and we were moving quickly, so the drops felt like needles striking my chest. Soon the needles turned into knives and we saw lightning on the horizon, so we turned around and sped to the nearest shelter: Pitter Patter Daycare Center, which was closed but had a wonderfully ample awning. We joined two motorcyclists who were also taking cover. We chatted for a while and through them found out that Michael Jackson had just died. Soon they decided to risk it and headed out into the rain and the setting sun. We decided to wait longer and were treated to two visitors: a woman who saw us riding apparently drove back to her house to pick up her husband, an avid recumbent rider, so that he could see our bike and make sure that we had found cover. We had a great time chatting to them and when they left we headed out as well, bearing with the light rain and keeping an eye on the lightning. At the next shelter, a gas station, we called Anne to let her know where we were. We considered asking her to rescue us, but we thought we had a good chance of making it. Besides, I had never broken the 100 mile mark before, and we were so close. "Let's get you that century" Kyle said as we headed back into the storm.

We soon realized that we had made a grave mistake. The rain picked up, the lightning closed in, and we found ourselves in the dark and surrounded by trees with no shelter in sight. We were more than ready to call for rescue now, but we had to find somewhere to stop safely first. I tried to find something, anything on the Garmin as we rode, but it's hard to operate a touch screen through a plastic bag. We started to see lightning on all sides of us and I became truly terrified that we would be struck. I prayed for a shelter, or at least avoidance of an electrifying death, but all we could see were trees and an empty road. We passed a park with no structures whatsoever, and buildings that were behind impenetrable fences. And then, finally, there it was: an illuminated steeple in the distance. We tore off towards it with a sigh of relief. In a final moment of insanity we took the long way around the church, a big loop that brought our mileage for the day to that all important 100, and then we quickly ducked under the front door's small awning.

It turns out we had already done a day over 100 miles on the way to Bedford -- thanks to odometer problems we didn't know it at the time -- but doesn't 100 miles at 10mph on day 10 have a nice, round, ring to it?...Maybe?...

Happy to have completed a century but much happier to be under cover, I threw on all the dry clothes I had and huddled on the rubber mat. As we waited I played with my camera and the rain and the lights, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a train went roaring past at the edge of the church parking lot.

It was still raining when Anne arrived in her family's truck. We climbed in and Anne presented us with towels and tupperware containers of food as we made our way towards warmth, safety, and the comforts of home. We were about to have a two day break, and once again we needed it.

| posted at: 08:26 | permanent link and comments

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

9: Coasting and Chance Meetings

Stoker's Log Day Nine

6/24/09

From Washington, PA

To St. Clairsville, OH

44.5 miles

9.1 avg mph

We weren't planning on spending extra time in the room this morning; anyone who has stayed in a Motel 6 will probably understand why. Unfortunately I was right about the wet laundry, so instead of getting an early start we spent over an hour creatively drying our clothes.

As we rode through downtown Washington we heard an unfamiliar voice yell out our names. I was pretty sure our fame hadn't spread that far - front page of the Bedford Post or not - so we pulled over very confused. It turned out to be our friend Anne's mom, who was visiting Washington but will be hosting us in Grandville tomorrow. She was having coffee with a friend who pointed out the "strange bicycle" passing by, and Anne's mother put two and two together and went running outside to find out if it was us. She treated us to coffee and pastries and her friend Mrs. Young told us about her daughter's bicycle and biathlon adventures. We also talked about the sorry state of public education, a conversation we seem to be having a lot these days. We asked about the bike shop in town, since we wanted to be carrying more spare tires and tubes, and Mrs. Young said she knew of it and gave us general directions. On the way out we encountered a vehicle even stranger and cooler than our own: the T3 Motion, or policeman Segway.

We chatted to its owner for a bit before heading further into town. The thing was, we just could not find the bike shop. We headed up and down the street (which was of course on a hill) but found nothing; the address we had corresponded to a bank parking lot. We even called Sheila to double check our information on the shop, and everything seemed to be in order. Finally we made one more check of the whole road and then gave up and rode on. I don't understand why we're having such bad luck with bike shops lately.

We made one more stop at a Rite Aid to buy me a second knee brace and insoles to cut down on my hot spots. Neither really worked, but it was entertaining to sit under a tent in the parking lot cutting the insoles with a pocket knife while our bag of still damp laundry hung out in the sun.

Finally we got going on the National Road, which we would take all day (no cue sheets needed!). We were excited to leave the peaks of Pennsylvania for gently rolling hills, and even more excited to coast down a long downhill into a flat riverbank road in West Virginia. It's the first time in a long time that we enjoyed the riding itself. I can't believe it given the general terrain of the state, but West Virginia will probably be the flattest, easiest state of the whole trip. (It also gets points for the restaurant with a large "Opening Soon?" sign.)

Along the way we saw what we thought was a cyclist repairing his bike, so we stopped to offer help. Turns out he was just stretching, but I'm really glad we stopped to talk. He solved the mystery of the Washington bike shop - it's been closed for over a year - and directed us to a bike shop and trail in Wheeling. There we bought tires and tubes from two great kids and I also picked up Nike cycling insoles. I was sad but not surprised when they didn't really work either; I'm going to be mailing a lot of insoles home. We found our way to the bike path, and then found our way onto it again when we ran into construction equipment and ambiguous 'trail closed' signs. It was entirely worth it. The path was paved and often shaded, and included (not scary) tunnels, bridges, and a viaduct.

Wheeling Island itself boasted two bridges, one a suspension bridge with a walkway that we crossed.

Overall it was a fantastic riding day. We climbed out of the valley and finished the day with more energy than we've had in quite some time. Things are looking up, especially since tomorrow we travel to Anne's house. We can't wait to see her, her family, and her hometown...and to get a break day!

| posted at: 07:29 | permanent link and comments

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

8: Old Hills and New Friends

Stoker's Log Day Eight

6/23/09

From Donegal, PA

To Washington, PA

52 miles

? avg mph

There have always been things I dislike about my homestate: Philadelphia sports teams, for example. But I never truly hated being in PA until this trip. How did I never notice the state's horrendous hills? And why do they never end? We didn't cover a lot of mileage today, which let us get in before dark for once, but it was still a hard ride. I don't know how many more mountains we (and our knees and the blisters from our knee braces) can take.

We also discovered this evening that we've been slowed for two days or more by a mechanical problem: the wheel is out of true, or spinning crooked, and rubbing against the frame. The misalignment explains our speedometer malfunction. It has also been slowing us down, as if we were riding with the brake half on. The Appalachians would have been beastly climbs regardless, but we managed to make them even harder. I can't decide if I'll be elated or depressed if tomorrow is significantly easier now that Kyle has fixed the problem. I'm just relieved he was able to fix it, especially since the bike shop that we were counting on in Mt. Pleasant (which was much steeper than it was pleasant) was without their mechanic for the day.

We did, however, make several new friends. At the Sheetz we met Mick, a motorcyclist and retired steel worker who told us which roads to avoid and offered his phone number if we ran into any trouble. We also bought really cheap chocolate bars from the friendly owners of a closing mini-market. I'm pretty sure Kyle's favorite moment of the day, however, was when we stopped by a Humane Society with cages open to the street. It was full of loud, aggressive dogs... except for two quiet ones: a black lab and a german shepherd, the two breeds Kyle wants to adopt. I'm not convinced that he didn't set up the whole thing...

I found animal friends as well; I stopped to take a few photos of cows and suddenly the whole herd was wandering over to say hello. Those bovines do love the limelight.

We made it to Washington in time to go to dinner when normal people go to dinner, which was very exciting. Unfortunately we had to follow our satisfying meal at a chinese buffet with a marathon of laundry... hand washed in the ice bucket. Fun times.

I don't know if all of it will be dry by tomorrow, so we could be starting a long day in wet clothes. But whatever happens throughout this long adventure I can always take solace in the important message brought to me by my poorly written fortune cookie.

| posted at: 07:27 | permanent link and comments

Monday, June 22, 2009

7: More Hills and a Few Surprises

Stoker's Log Day Seven

6/22/09

From Bedford, PA

To Donegal, PA

59 miles

8-9? avg mph

After yesterday's adventures and our dinner of cheese cubes and wafer cakes, we needed to start today with a big, hearty breakfast, even if it delayed our start. The Bread Basket Cafe in downtown Bedford certainly delivered.

While there we felt a bit like celebrities. We rested the bike just outside the restaurant and it got a lot of attention, including from the people at the next table who recognized it from the hotel and from an older couple who asked if they could contact the local newspaper. A few minutes later, whadayaknow, a reporter showed up to interview us. Hopefully we'll make the Bedford Post! We also ran into our motel proprietor, "Wild Bill," who seemed to know everyone in town. Much later than we initially planned, we reluctantly left Bedford and got on the road.

We made a brief stop to see the giant coffee pot.

Also a giant elf herald.

The strangest sight of the day? The shirtless rotund man in suspenders who emerged from a car to shout "He's not pedaling!" in a perfect imitation of Vicini from The Princess Bride. I couldn't make up these characters if I tried.

It wasn't long into the ride before we met more hills...surprise! They weren't quite as bad as yesterday but they remained brutally steep and miles long. You know you're dealing with serious hills when they come with truck warnings.

The hills were also scarce on amenities. When we made it over and down an exhausting hill and saw a Subway in the midst of a construction zone we felt like we'd found a miraculous oasis. I also found hope in a Bed and Breakfast / Oriental Carpet Cleaner, the only business we saw during a long climb. I didn't understand their business combo, but the important thing was that we weren't destroyed enough to want to stop and stay there. For one reason or another we wanted to keep climbing.

As Kyle pointed out, at least the climb up Mt. Ararat rewarded us with a view.

It also used to have a hotel shaped like a ship until an arsonist destroyed it a few years ago.

By far the best part of the ride was visiting the Flight 93 Memorial. After seeing it I can't believe that I had never been there before, and that I might never have gone if it hadn't been almost on our way. No permanent memorial has been constructed yet, so the space isn't filled with statues and plaques and signs. Instead there is a small wall covered in mementos and messages left by visitors, a row of wooden angels with the names of those who died, and an American flag off in the distance, marking where the plane fell. It was beautiful, and real, and unifying, and I wiped away tears as I circled the wall several times, thinking about the person behind each angel, and the person behind each object left to honor them, and especially about the child who gave up his action figure.

Kyle and I didn't talk much about the memorial, but we understood what it meant to each other. It was something to hold onto during the long, difficult day.

Make that a long, difficult day punctuated by moments of panic. In fact, I'd like to address the residents of Pompey Hill Road: Why do you all need to own intimidating dogs, and what do you do to make them so angry at cyclists? (Except for the friendly Mennonite family whose giant dog was a perfect gentleman; thank you.) Ironically, out of all of the overly aggressive dogs we encountered, the only one we had to spray with Halt was a chocolate lab. The dog tore off running as soon as he saw us and stayed hard on the chase, refusing to respond to his owners' yelling and nearly running us into a car. (Partly because I was busy freaking out and being very little help.) I think Kyle will always feel a bit sheepish admitting that he maced a chocolate lab, but we didn't have much choice and our patience with dogs was running very low.

Really our patience with everything was running low, especially after we (or googlemaps) kept miscalculating distances. Once again we found ourselves riding in the dark...down a massive hill at 40-50 mph. (I'd love to tell you our exact speed, but the speedometer still breaks whenever we top 40). That last part may sound like fun, and honestly it was pretty exhilarating, but sometimes I would get distracted by that whole fearing for our lives thing. It was actually safer to go as fast as possible, since that meant cars didn't have to try to pass us, but adrenaline doesn't always listen to that kind of logic. I had no control in the stoker position, but that was actually better since I trust Kyle's steering much more than my own. It did turn me into a wind and bug shield though, which was highly unpleasant. I don't know how many bugs died on my chest and face that night, but I do know it was disgusting to have to pick them off when we finally made it to the Days Inn. Thankfully we were asleep as soon as our freshly showered heads hit the pillows, which, incidentally felt like clouds.

| posted at: 07:27 | permanent link and comments

Sunday, June 21, 2009

6: EPIC

Stoker's Log Day Six

6/21/09

From Frederick, MD

To Bedford, PA

102 miles

8-9 avg mph? (malfunctioning speedometer)

As we climbed onto the bike this morning Kyle was still having doubts about the trip, and it's not like I was clicking my heels and leaping into the seat either. We had a good litmus test approaching though; early in the trip we would need to climb a massive hill. "If we start tackling that hill and decide that we can't take one more pedal stroke," Kyle pointed out, "we can always turn around and coast home again." We never did abandon the trip, which means we're even more dedicated, stubborn, or stupid than we realized, because the ride gave us countless reasons to turn back. Today was epic...meaning it yielded good stories (and what I expect will be a looooong blog entry) but was horrendous to experience in person.

One of our greatest cycling accomplishments before this trip was climbing what we call Hell Hill in Frederick, which took two tries...on unloaded road bikes. Today we would be climbing a different part of Hell Hill with our heavy tandem and without standing. We almost lucked out on the weight issue; Kyle's parents had planned to meet us in Frederick so that his father could ride with us and his mother could carry some of our equipment in her car and rendevous with us at the hotel. Unfortunately severe weather up north kept them from coming, so we were on our own.

With a slow, steady cadence we managed to make it over that hill and coasted into a Sheetz, where we ran into some cyclists who had just finished a criterion race nearby. (Really wish we had known about that!) Unfortunately that was only the beginning of our climbing for the day. There were four massive hills on the agenda and a lot of rolling terrain in between. It seemed like every summit brought sight of another climb in the distance.

After the second giant climb we had a brief break while we looked around Mercersburg Academy, where our frisbee friend Tammy attended high school. She never mentioned that the campus was ridiculously beautiful and could rival most colleges.

We called Tammy and she suggested some nice restaurants in the area, but we had no time for a sit-down lunch. Instead we ate standing up in the entrance to a park because we didn't have the time or energy to find the actual picnic facilities.

We were in such a hurry because of our motel, a mom and pop establishment that absolutely, positively did not accept check-ins after 10 pm. We didn't really expect to take that long -- we started at 6:30 in the morning, after all -- but we wanted a healthy cushion since the worst climb of the day was yet to come.

Hill #3 made Hell Hill look like Happytimes Hill of Rainbows and Ice Cream. It was steep and seemingly neverending, a mindbogglingly grueling climb in ever-increasing heat. It's hard to describe the experience because in order to survive you can't let your mind fully comprehend the climb while it's happening. I started counting sets of eight in my head in time to the pedal strokes; I have no idea why. But it helped me keep pushing and we kept crawling forward. It was hard to believe that the climb would end before our legs gave out. We started to understand why everyone who rides the Trans America route says that the mountains in the east are worse to ride than the Rockies. The Rockies are longer, but less steep, so as long as you reconcile yourself to the fact that you'll be going up hill for a long time it isn't too hard to settle back and just keep a steady pedal. But these Pennsylvania mountains, the misleadingly pleasant sounding Laurel Highlands, are steep and brutal and out to destroy cyclists. At two points we had to abandon our No Walking Rule and drag the loaded bicycle up the steepest sections so that our knees didn't pop out of their sockets. As soon as possible we would climb back on the bike to do leg press after leg press, unable to think or see straight as the climb wore on. When we finally reached the peak we were too exhausted to really celebrate, especially with the spirit-crushing knowledge that we had one big hill left to go, but we did take time to breath, smile, and enjoy the view.

The downhills were of course also steep, which made for rather intense descents. We learned the important information that our speedometer stops working around 42 mph, presumably because the magnet on the wheel gets knocked out of alignment. We're pretty sure that we surpassed 50 mph on our steepest descent. I never in my life thought I would go that fast on a bicycle. It was both exhilirating and terrifying; I'm just glad that I wasn't steering and that Kyle kept us from plummeting off a cliff or something. Mostly the downhills just made us happy because we didn't have to pedal and we could make up a lot of time.

What didn't help with our race against the clock was the decision to ride the abandoned turnpike. Once a busy four lane highway with tunnels, the 20+ mile stretch is now open only to bikes. We were looking forward to the unique riding experience, but unfortunately we needed to find it first. The directions from Googlemaps took us into increasingly rural areas until all of the roads were dirt and most of them were unmarked. Luckily I was willing to ask for directions at one point (cough cough) or we would have had even more trouble. Once we completely left civilization for mud puddles and forest the Garmin became our greatest friend. I road with it in hand as we tried to figure out what was a road that would get us out of the woods and what was a trail that would only lead us farther in. When we finally emerged from the woods fate decided to slap us in the face with a steep hill of loose gravel and stones that was completely unridable. Kyle hauled the bike up to the crossroads and then did homage to the first pavement we'd seen in far too long.

Finally we found the abandoned turnpike, now called the Pike2Bike.

It was a fascinating experience, to have a once teeming highway to ourselves, to ride the wide stretches of pavement surrounded only by trees and the sounds of small wildlife. We even saw where the government had used the abandoned pike to test rumble strips and other road innovations. It must have been even cooler to ride the Pike2Bike years ago when it looked more like a functioning highway. I never realized how bad unmaintained pavement can become over time; major captain points to Kyle for navigating through cracks, holes, grass, reverse potholes, and the like while staring straight into the sun. The only other cyclist we saw was on a road bike going the opposite direction and I don't see how his tires survived.

I was most excited about the tunnels...until we were actually in one. The first tunnel was over a mile long, slightly sloped, and completely unlit, which meant that the light at the end of the tunnel was barely visible for most of the ride. It sounds like a metaphorical problem, but I found it incredibly unsettling. The only sounds were the echo of dripping water and our tires on the moist stones. The only light was from our headlamps, which had to be trained straight ahead so that we could veer around the plentiful potholes and puddles, leaving the rest of the tunnel in eerie darkness. As absurd as it sounds, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was about to leap out of the blackness. We rode as quickly as we could while still being safe; the only thing worse than going through the tunnel slowly would be getting a flat halfway across. The tunnel and its darkness dragged on but eventually we saw the most beautful sight:

The second tunnel was shorter and therefore easier, but it still wasn't a pleasant experience. Afterward we had more uneven pavement and a gravel downhill to traverse and then we were through. Even though it was interesting and blessedly FLAT, we weren't sad to leave the Pike2Bike behind. It's worth a try (if you can find an easier way to access it than we did) but I would never ride it more than once.

Thanks to our trek over the mountains and through the woods and into the tunnels we were running hard up against our 10pm deadline. We looked into a shortcut via a highway but it was closed to bikes so we had to navigate on the fly as the sun set. We sped up and down rolling hills in the dark, pulling out the Garmin every few miles, and at 9:35 we entered Bedford. When we hadn't found the motel by 9:45 we started to panic, especially since we had left a commercial area for neighborhoods. We didn't have the motel phone number, so as we rode I called my mother and had her call the motel. Then we saw it, the glow of the Judy's Motel sign. I leapt off the bike and ran to the door to find Bill, the proprietor, grinning as he told my mom that the cyclists had arrived.

We had our warm bed for the night; we just needed a warm shower and warm dinner to feel like ourselves again. Kyle was amazing and gave me first shower while he set off to find food. I almost had a complete breakdown when the shower refused to be anything but ice cold, but finally it warmed up and I stepped into one of the most refreshing experiences of my life. Dinner didn't work out quite as well; the only thing nearby and open was the convenience store, so we made a meal of cheese cubes and wafer cakes. Still it all felt like a hazy miracle; I'm not sure what was powering our legs during those final miles other than desperation for a bed. We didn't know it at the time with our broken odometer, but we broke 100 miles today, hills and dirt roads and all.

EPIC

| posted at: 07:17 | permanent link and comments

Saturday, June 20, 2009

4-5: Home Sweet Home

Initially I thought we'd be hitting Frederick too early in the trip; why would we need a break after only three days? Turns out there are lots of reasons we needed a break. We used the time to make changes to our packing scheme, including replacing the backpack with a duffel bag and buying a Trek Interchange Trunk that snaps on behind Kyle's seat. It cost $100, which seems rather steep for a small piece of storage equipment, but the compartments are perfect for the camera, Garmin, and other items we need to be able to access quickly, and the sides fold out to become very useful paniers.

Our bodies also needed time off. Ever since I started riding the recumbent part of the tandem I've had what are known as hot spots. Essentially the pad of my foot heats up and tingles painfully, and if I keep riding eventually it feels like stabbing needles and the pain spreads into my middle toes and occasionally up my shin. Really not pleasant. Usually the problem solves itself as soon as I take my feet off the pedals, but after a really long ride I might have some residual numbness. According to the experts -- meaning the random forums that I googled -- a certain percentage of recumbent riders get hot spots, probably from pinched nerves, and most of them just learn to deal; there are suggestions for decreasing the pain but no universal or complete solutions. I suspect that changing to a larger pedal could help somewhat, but that would be so expensive and inconvenient (because Kyle and I could no longer switch positions) that I'm trying all other strategies first. I got the open-toed Shimano sandals to try to help the problem, and they did succeed in delaying the onset of hot spots by an hour or so each ride. Unfortunately they caused another problem: incredible achilles pain. Apparently the back strap is too tight or otherwise poorly fit to my foot because by the end of our second day every pedal downstroke was intensely painful and now there are bumps on my achilles that seem more than blisters. The guy at the bike shop thought it was a foot position problem and suggested I move closer to the pedals, but I was pretty sure the problem was the sandals. Some experimenting around Frederick proved me right so I decided to go back to my old shoes, the lesser evil. Hot spots at least come and go while the achilles pain hits me every pedal stroke and continues to hurt whenever I walk down stairs or do a dozen other things off of the bicycle. I'm becoming increasingly worried about my feet and whether they'll hold up for the whole trip, or even for the next few days. I expected blisters, ankle tightness, or arch pain -- familiar adversaries -- not strange pinching and possible nerve damage.

My achilles pain was one reason that we decided to take two days off instead of one; this plan also allowed us to spend more time with friends. On our first night off we grilled dinner with Emily, Lee, and Dave, and thoroughly enjoyed the summer evening. Kyle was crowned the racer scooter champion (though Dave did beat him by abandoning his wheels and sprinting) and then we broke out the Rock Band.

It was a wonderful night, and also a glimpse at the summer we could have had, the summer we could still have if we quit right now. I can't say it wasn't tempting. We've had a rough start. Visiting so many friends and family members was fantastic, but what with the rain and the pain and the long, late days our time on the bike has very rarely been enjoyable. After watching me limp around the apartment getting disproportionately stressed out about packing today Kyle sat me down and asked if I really wanted to continue the trip. Was it worth the pain and all of the expected and unexpected challenges? Could we handle many more sunrise to sunset hauls? Would we be happier staying in Frederick and forgetting this whole crazy venture? I understood why he was asking those questions, and why he thought my feet and I might be close to quitting, but I just couldn't see myself giving up on the adventure, especially not this early. And I actually thought that much of my stress was because I was off of the bike, not because I was dreading getting back on it. When we're riding the purpose of each day is clear: to make it through the hard hours and reach our planned destination. It makes for a brief to-do list; I don't need to worry about what I'm going to wear or what I'm going to cook for dinner or how my schedule is going to fall into place. I like the straight-forwardness of it all, and knowing that each day we ride is a significant accomplishment in and of itself. During these days off we've done a lot of running around like crazy people, and I've also had a lot of time to think. I suppose that could be a good thing, but it's really thrown me off. I'm not sure about many aspects of the trip anymore, but at the same time I'm sure I don't want to stop. Regardless of how difficult it's been, I feel deeply committed to the trip now. In part it's because we discussed and publicized it so much (too much?) but I also just hate quitting once I've immersed myself. I don't feel like I've taken on enough legitimate challenges in my life, and I'm not going to give up on this one without a fight. I have a lot of pondering and discussing to do over the next few days, but the best I can do right now is take one day at a time, and tomorrow we ride again.

| posted at: 07:08 | permanent link and comments

Thursday, June 18, 2009

3: Night Ride

Stoker's Log Day Three

6/18/09

From Lancaster, PA

To Frederick, MD

80.3 miles

9.3 avg mph

This morning we left my childhood home for our current home in Frederick, MD. The weather couldn't make up its mind, but I suppose that's better than downpour or heatstroke all day. Near the beginning of the ride we had a steep climb into Columbia and then crossed their impressive mile long bridge.

We then made a stop at a curiosity that I used to drive by at least once a month and yet never visited: The Haines Shoe House.

Five stories tall and featuring shoe-themed stained glass, the house was built in the 1940s by Mahlon Haines, "The Shoe Wizard" and a master of self-promotion. He built the shoe house to boost sales, but he also let newlyweds honeymoon for free there, a tradition that I wish continued today! We elected to pay for the $4.50 tour; no doubt reflecting all of the bad jokes that she's heard over the years, the tour guide's first bit of information was that "No old lady lives in this shoe; I may be getting old but I don't actually live here." Even though the inside turned out to be less interesting than the outside, the family running the house was very friendly and it was nice to learn about the house and eccentric Mr. Haines. Apparently after a falling out with his fiance Haines packed his things, got on a bicycle, and rode across the state until it broke down. (Hopefully it didn't give Kyle any ideas...) After the tour we bought icecream and enjoyed it outside by the shoe dog house and shoe bird house, and it was all very charming and amusing.

Other sights of the day included a ridiculously large horse farm, a dentist's office with two creepy Ronald McDonald statues on its front lawn, a row of painted parking meters, and a gnome surrounded by other oddities for sale.

Also wheat fields. Turns out I really like wheat fields.

Kyle also liked the wheat fields, though he was less excited about taking photos of them.

It sounds like a pleasant day, and in part it was. The problem was that after that steep climb into Columbia the hills just kept coming. The beautiful rolling farmland unfortunately didn't make the twisting climbs any less exhausting. We found ourselves creeping along at an average of 8 mph for much of the day. It didn't help that we were sore and beaten up from the day before; our knees ached and creaked and my always problematic feet were killing me. The miles crawled along and suddenly the sun was setting, which was picturesque but problematic.

We never thought the ride home would drag on so long, but there was nothing to do but keep pedaling. We strapped on headlamps, turned on the bike's flashing red lights, and headed down the road looking even more like a carnival attraction than normal. Thankfully we finally caught a break: flats with a slight tailwind. It felt like we were flying compared to the rest of the day. We still didn't make it home until 10:30 at night though, which is just no good at all. We don't want to be riding in the dark for extended periods of time and we'll usually want to be asleep before 10:30 since we're planning on many early mornings. Luckily we had already planned to take a day or two off in Frederick to recuperate and get things together, so we could crash -- finally -- knowing that for once we could sleep in...

| posted at: 07:02 | permanent link and comments

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

2: Rainy Day

Stoker's Log Day Two

6/17/09

From Peace Valley in Doylestown, PA

To Lancaster, PA

86.8 miles (yes, again)

10.7 avg mph

On the second day of our journey we were awoken by a rooster. (Technically our alarm rang first, but that's not as poetic.) We gazed groggily out of the misty windows, ate more pizza and muffins, and packed up far too slowly. Before leaving we got a tour of the lavender farm and gift shop barn, which also houses the dojo where Fricker does akido. (At least one word in that sentence is probably spelled incorrectly).

Oh, and Kyle found another friend.

Eventually we did get on the road, headed to my parents' house in Lancaster. It was supposed to be about a 70 mile trip, but somehow it ended up being 86.8, the exact mileage from yesterday. We met a number of charming people on our travels today: a trio of female cyclists, a boisterous man taking his daughter out for DQ, a couple also planning to ride a tandem across the country, several very nice fast food employees, and a young boy playing in the park who was quite the fan of our bike.

We were in the park in the first place because I had spotted a swan family and subsequently went crazy with my camera; most of the aftermath is on Flickr.

The riding itself was much less enjoyable than these breaks. We were slowed down by climbs, including one that went on for over four miles. Our knees started to protest loudly, and my left achilles felt like it was being crushed by the back strap of my shoe. And then the rain came. It wasn't bad enough that we couldn't ride in it, but it sure was miserable. It was especially bad for Kyle, who had a steady stream of water on his lower legs; until he stopped and dug out his heavy cycling tights he couldn't get warm and neither could his joints. To make it worse, it was getting dark. We were fully prepared for night riding, but that didn't mean we were looking forward to it. We were so cold, so miserable, so desperate to make it to Lancaster. And just when we felt like we were getting close, the road we were supposed to follow disappeared. Suddenly we were headed through downtown Lancaster with me navigating, something that will probably never happen again but which went surprisingly well. I probably shouldn't be proud of being able to maneuver through my hometown, but with my lack of navigational skills I'll take what I can get.

We rolled into my parents' driveway just as the sun was setting and apparently a few minutes after my father had gone out to look for us. After such a difficult evening it was wonderful to have my family there to comfort and feed us (and to loan us clothes and a bed -- thanks bro!). A warm shower and a meatloaf dinner later and all was well with the world once again.

| posted at: 06:27 | permanent link and comments

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

1: It Begins

Stoker's Log Day One

6/16/09

From Sea Bright, NJ

To Peace Valley in Doylestown, PA

86.8 miles

11.2 avg mph

The first day of our trip began, appropriately enough, at sunrise. I'm not sure how Kyle talked me into waking up that early, but I'll admit that I'm rather glad he did. Accompanied by my mother and her friends who had graciously hosted us in their beautiful house the night before, we arrived on the beach as the sun struggled to appear through the clouds. We dipped the wheel of the bike into the ocean - nicely symbolic but also rather messy - and took a great deal of photos on the beach, on the playground, in the parking lot...(all on Flickr)

Thanks to Emily and Steve for the perfect shirts!

Before leaving, my mother presented us with a "Just Married" flag for the back of our trailer and we made about half a dozen final checks of our equipment.

We also amused ourselves by making up songs. It was a brisk morning to say the least, and I came up with countless verses to "I'm a little windbreak," sung to the tune of "I'm a little teapot." Then we saw a painted mural for "Michelle's Magical Garden," which was clearly meant to show diversity and yet featured all caucasion children. We decided Michelle's Magical Garden was a television show waiting for us to write its theme song. That kept us entertained for quite some time.

Fifty miles into our ride we made a very important stop to visit my frisbee soulmate. The stars had aligned and sent Sheila home from Spain the day before, and we barely needed to alter our route to visit her parents' home. Sheila and I spent several hours catching up on each other's lives while Kyle played and napped with her dogs. We also consumed all of the food Sheila brought from Wegman's and gave her a ride on the bicycle. We wanted to stay much longer but we eventually had to press on.

Sheila's stories about her travels included Morocco, where it is apparently considered shameful for women to be seen heading to the bathroom. My small bladder and I would not be very respectable in Morocco. I actually ran into serious problems today when we had a long stretch without any bathrooms; there were miles of nothing and then one gas station, which was of course without a public bathroom. (Which reminds me, apologies to Wawa customers for my muttered obscenities.) I stopped drinking since I didn't want to make the situation worse, which was of course a horrible idea. I started to get dehydrated and Kyle had to carry us for a few miles while I pedaled woozily. Eventually we found a bathroom and I quickly consumed enough liquid to get back to normal, but I'm really beginning to fear the unpopulated regions of our trip.

Our final destination of Day One was Pleasant Valley, where our friend Fricker lives and works on a lavender farm. We had to take the scenic route around a lake because there was a road closed, but at least the path was shaded and had a nice view.

We also got to see some local wildlife when a deer darted across the road between us and an approaching line of cyclists. Starting at sunrise makes for a long day, however, so we were relieved to finally climb up Fricker's driveway.

He lives in what apparently used to be a chicken coop, but the only sign of its origins is the fact that the ceilings are too low to accommodate the claw foot tub, meaning tall people like Kyle and Fricker have to crouch in order to shower (I could just fit with a knee bend). Fricker and his girlfriend Lyssa provided us with pizza from down the street and the most amazing pumpkin chocolate chip muffins ever. They were pre-dinner snack and dessert and breakfast.

Predictably I suppose, we weren't very exciting houseguests. We enjoyed chatting over dinner but very soon after it was time for us to crash. We may have been on a futon but it was the most comfortable, wonderful rest imaginable.

| posted at: 06:27 | permanent link and comments

Saturday, June 13, 2009

The Final Countdown

The Plan: have everything ready a few days before departing, leaving time for a long ride or two with full gear in order to assess our packing strategy.

The Reality: run around like crazy people for the last few days, spending countless hours shopping, planning, and packing, leaving us with time only for brief (15-20 mile) rides just before it got dark, and never with a fully packed trailer.

These rides were still helpful, however, especially the one we took with me steering in the back. We learned so much pedaling in the other person's shoes and it made a difference immediately. On the following ride I had a much better understanding of Kyle's challenges and when and how he needed me to pedal, and he learned what and when he needed to communicate. I also realized how much I wanted to avoid the back whenever possible. It's incredibly stressful back there, especially managing starts, stops, and steering in heavy traffic. I'm also not as physically suited to it: it's hard to control something that heavy with my shorter and weaker arms. Thankfully Kyle is becoming increasingly comfortable with the back and is willing to remain there fulltime for a week or more until we reach more barren landscapes, unless of course an injury necessitates a switch.

I had been worried about packing from the beginning; I have never, ever been able to travel light. It actually went better than expected, perhaps because I've been thinking about and shopping for the trip for so long. I took 2.5 cycling outfits, 2 casual outfits, a long sleeved shirt, rain gear, and a bathing suit. Through the magic of a stuff sack, it fit into a very small space:

Fitting all of our gear into the trailer was a bit more challenging, so we ended up strapping a small backpack to the top. Still, it wasn't bad, and we'll be riding through Frederick on our third day so we can figure out what supplies to drop or reposition. We were ready to go, or ready enough. Off to Jersey...

| posted at: 06:20 | permanent link and comments

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Recent Rides: Mt. Airy and the Greenbelt

We're trying to get in as many rides as we can before the big departure so that we can prepare ourselves for the riding and also to test items like the trailer and new clothing. That's right, thanks to my brother we have a BOB trailer for our bike, and thanks to my mother we have a pirate flag to make it visible.

Our first test trip was to and from the Mt. Airy bike shop where we bought the Pino in the first place. Kyle needed to buy a few things and we wanted to talk to them about my foot problems. We lucked out and talked to a super friendly guy who also rides recumbent and has gone through foot hot spots, and he suggested a pair of cycling sandals that might help. I had wanted sandals ever since Kyle got his pair of Keen commutes, so after a test ride and some confusion about sizes I decided to buy Shimano SPD sandals (SH-SD60B). They're like a standard pair of velcro sandals, except the sole is inflexible and has the same clips as my cycling shoes. So far the sandals have worked well. I haven't gotten hot spots while wearing them (fingers crossed) though the designs in the footbed can be annoying during long rides. Overall, however, I think they were a great purchase, especially since we're riding cross-country during the summer.

If only getting to the shop in the first place had been so simple. Kyle mapped out a route that should have been 15 miles each way. Unfortunately, one of the roads on Googlemaps didn't actually exist, so by the time we reached the shop we had already gone nearly 30 miles. Usually I would have been happy for the additional distance, especially since I wanted to make up for skipping the 51 mile Lancaster Farmland Trust ride that day (because of travel and timing issues; we certainly love covered bridges and farmland). By the time we neared the shop, however, I was starving and being burnt to a crisp. Note to self: no matter what the hurried husband says, there is always time to apply sunscreen. When we finally stopped and I put on sunscreen the damage was done. I had certainly suffered bad sunburn before, but I'd never had the sensation of emanating heat for days. I couldn't even bear to touch my legs together. I did, however, get to use a leaf from the aloe plant that Kyle's mother gave me, which was pretty neat.

Other than the unexpected detour and the seering heat, the ride went very well. We had to deal with a number of narrow or nonexistent shoulders, which made Kyle vow to leave Maryland, but we didn't encounter any major problems. We could feel the weight of the trailer but only during steep climbs and head winds (then again, it wasn't even half-full). We enjoyed ourselves and still felt pretty good at the end of the ride.

Which was a good thing, since the next day we drove to Harrisburg to ride the Greenbelt with Kyle's father, brother, uncles, and cousins. We also convinced our friend Emily to come along, who had just arrived in Frederick for the summer. The Greenbelt ride, which was part road and part trail, took us through neighborhoods, along the water, and into forests. It was much more scenic and relaxing than the Scranton ride, that's for sure. We got to see a cricket game, river rescue training, and a lot of greenery and bridges.

I also liked that we were riding the Greenbelt in order to benefit the Greenbelt; that's good charity ride logic. I really wish the ride had been longer than 20 miles, but other than that I have no complaints.

Scratch that, I have one complaint: I am tired of people assuming that I do little or no work in the front of the bike. I heard so many cracks like "You getting a free ride up there?" and "Don't show my wife that bike" and "That looks like a sweet deal for you" and while I laughed I was not amused. Yes, riding in the back is more difficult overall since you have to steer, but I always have to pedal the same speed and at times I'm pedaling harder (Steep hills are becoming my thing; I'm weird). Even Kyle got annoyed on my behalf, and offered to make me an "Actually I'm working just as hard" t-shirt.

Otherwise it was an awesome day. After being waved across the finish line by enthusiastic volunteers with bubbles and flags, we picked up our Greenbelt t-shirts and enjoyed hotdogs in the shade. They also supplied Vitamin Water, which I had previously never tried. The liquid itself was ok, but the packaging was amazing. The label told me that I was drinking "dragonfruit" that helped Agnes bench press llamas. Good stuff. At the cars we had more food thanks to Kyle's uncle, and then we headed over to an outdoors store to buy me a pair of Marmot rain pants. One less thing on the list (which is still disturbingly long considering that we leave in about a week). But hey, yay for bicycling, and for a ride that was enjoyable and scenic and taken at a steady but not exhausting pace. I hope our trip will be the same.

| posted at: 06:11 | permanent link and comments

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