Well, Ohio's not as fun as I used to think it was. There's two reasons for this: the first is that the roads are absolutely horrible. We learned that in earnest leaving Youngstown for Akron, and it's been more of the same throughout the remainder of our journey here. Apparently Ohio pours a great deal of money into its road maintenance, but it really doesn't show. Both of my wheels are so ridiculously out of true right now that I have to open up my breaks to keep them from rubbing. This essentially means that I'm riding without breaks. Hopefully this won't be an issue for too much longer; I can have them trued and with so few hills there isn't much need for quick stops.
The major reason why Ohio is no fun right now is because I am sick. I started feeling crumby two nights ago, but upon waking and not having a fever, commenced riding our ninety four mile ride into Kenyon College. This was a mistake. This morning my body was not happy with me, greeting me with chills, aches, and a mild fever. Needless to say I was "vanned" today. Even with Marita's hilarious musings, not being on a bike while everyone else was sucked. With any luck, I'll feel well enough tomorrow to ride again, but honestly the odds aren't in my favor. Be thinking about me the next few days, because having the flu was not on my list of things to do this summer.
Apologies for the wholly negative entry, I'll be doing my best to write a sickeningly positive one the next time I blog. Until then, peace out hombres.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
<3 Ohio
So Ohio is probably my favorite state so far, because the hills are a joke. Today most of us laughed when we read the cue sheet and discovered the ride was only forty two miles and the tallest climb was only three hundred feet. We were doing double that mileage and climbing mountains back in New England. The ride was made even cushier by the fact that I was riding sweep.
For those of you reading who aren't riding across the continent advocating affordable housing, riding sweep is essentially a license to ride as slow as you want. Sweep's job is to ride behind all the other riders and make sure that everyone is accounted for at the end of the ride. I was considering going to a theater with my partner in crime Hana Kawai, who I codenamed Mama Sweep, and then sprinting all of the forty miles to the site. Instead, we chose a leisurely pace and had second breakfast at a Macdonald's. It was a fun time, especially since we got homemade cookies from the group of cool old dudes we met there.
Even with all of our pit-stops, which included several gas stations and the hunt for an elusive lake-beach, we still made it to the church well in advance. What could have been an uneventful ride was made somewhat more interesting by playing various games, among them, bike tag. This is of course the same as regular tag, only on a bike on a highway, and consequently considerably more dangerous. Yeah, it's a lot of fun. I plan on popularizing bike frisbee when we get into the Great Plains. We also had a lot of time to discuss the subtle ways in which the trip was changing us.
I've commented on how we live a very insular existence. It's true; I know already that there are things I can't convey to people outside the trip. For example, I don't think any one of us will ever be able to drive down a road without wondering how it would feel to bike down it. The rest of them are all little joys or stresses that are so commonplace on the road; knowing there's a looming hill ahead of us, or tearing into that first bite of church dinner after riding seventy miles to get there. For sure, this is an experience unto itself that I will miss profoundly.
On the somewhat more introspective note, the last few days I've been riding alone a little bit. It's been different, but enjoyable in its own way. Earlier in the trip I was pretty adamant about riding with a group, mostly for safety, but also for conversation and all that. Riding alone causes you to reflect a lot more on the enormity of what you're actually doing. It wasn't until yesterday, crossing into Ohio from Pennsylvania, that I realized that I was moving across the entire North American continent under my own power. My own legs are bringing me from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And that is insane. I've found it's easy to forget the scope of our trip because we get mired in the day to day. You tend to forget about the hundreds of miles that you've already ridden to get to this moment. You either forget or never realize the gains in strength those miles gave you.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face yesterday, remembering how much I had wanted this and truly understanding how much I really love it. It's hard, possibly the hardest thing I will ever do. But then I remember how I felt about the mountains that we climbed back in New York, remembered how impossible they felt when I was already so tired from climbing the last. But we climbed them and we're stronger for it, such that everything in front of us seems possible, seems easy. Sometimes the ride is a chore, but at present, it's bliss. I can't wait for some dramatically changing scenery out west and to finally dip my front wheel into the Puget Sound.
For those of you reading who aren't riding across the continent advocating affordable housing, riding sweep is essentially a license to ride as slow as you want. Sweep's job is to ride behind all the other riders and make sure that everyone is accounted for at the end of the ride. I was considering going to a theater with my partner in crime Hana Kawai, who I codenamed Mama Sweep, and then sprinting all of the forty miles to the site. Instead, we chose a leisurely pace and had second breakfast at a Macdonald's. It was a fun time, especially since we got homemade cookies from the group of cool old dudes we met there.
Even with all of our pit-stops, which included several gas stations and the hunt for an elusive lake-beach, we still made it to the church well in advance. What could have been an uneventful ride was made somewhat more interesting by playing various games, among them, bike tag. This is of course the same as regular tag, only on a bike on a highway, and consequently considerably more dangerous. Yeah, it's a lot of fun. I plan on popularizing bike frisbee when we get into the Great Plains. We also had a lot of time to discuss the subtle ways in which the trip was changing us.
I've commented on how we live a very insular existence. It's true; I know already that there are things I can't convey to people outside the trip. For example, I don't think any one of us will ever be able to drive down a road without wondering how it would feel to bike down it. The rest of them are all little joys or stresses that are so commonplace on the road; knowing there's a looming hill ahead of us, or tearing into that first bite of church dinner after riding seventy miles to get there. For sure, this is an experience unto itself that I will miss profoundly.
On the somewhat more introspective note, the last few days I've been riding alone a little bit. It's been different, but enjoyable in its own way. Earlier in the trip I was pretty adamant about riding with a group, mostly for safety, but also for conversation and all that. Riding alone causes you to reflect a lot more on the enormity of what you're actually doing. It wasn't until yesterday, crossing into Ohio from Pennsylvania, that I realized that I was moving across the entire North American continent under my own power. My own legs are bringing me from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And that is insane. I've found it's easy to forget the scope of our trip because we get mired in the day to day. You tend to forget about the hundreds of miles that you've already ridden to get to this moment. You either forget or never realize the gains in strength those miles gave you.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face yesterday, remembering how much I had wanted this and truly understanding how much I really love it. It's hard, possibly the hardest thing I will ever do. But then I remember how I felt about the mountains that we climbed back in New York, remembered how impossible they felt when I was already so tired from climbing the last. But we climbed them and we're stronger for it, such that everything in front of us seems possible, seems easy. Sometimes the ride is a chore, but at present, it's bliss. I can't wait for some dramatically changing scenery out west and to finally dip my front wheel into the Puget Sound.
Monday, June 16, 2008
So Maybe I'll be able to post regularly now
Yeah, not a very inspired title, but fitting considering the surroundings. At present I'm sitting in Coudersport PA, nestled in a tiny library eeking out an existance on a scant forty five minutes of allowed internet time. It's been a fun past few days, with Pennsylvania not being quite as bad in terms of biking as originally anticipated. Back when we were in CT everyone told us to watch out for Pennsylvania, but the eastern part of the state really isn't that bad.
Hills here are rolling and constant, but on the whole not nearly the bear that they were in New England, particularly New York. There's a road called Hunter's, which takes you up the aptly named Hunter's Mountain, that will always have a space in my heart of hearts. Quite possibly the most extreme vertical climb that I've ever seen before, and one that I hope I never see again. The rides the last two days, into Willsboro and Coudersport respectively, have been very nice. Today I flew through the first half of the ride with Shira, one of our trip leaders, with whom I took turns telling life stories with. The ride culminated in a 2424 elevation climb up what is aparantly a part of the Alleghany Mountain chain, a little hill called Denton. After that it was pretty much all downhill.
We're getting closer, though a man in the library reminded us that there is still a very long way to go. It's been interesting, traveling with relative quickness through the eastern states. It'll be strange when we're spending more than seven days in just one, when it used to take only two or three. Before long we'll be in Iowa, which I'm sure will be an interesting experience to say the least considering the spot of bad luck the state's had recently. For those even more cut off from the world outside than we are, Iowa's essentially underwater after a serries of floodings. Hopefully our stay won't be too much of a burden on our hosts as they try to get back on their feet.
I've found that, despite the fact that we're traveling across a whole continent, our world really has shrunk a lot. Bike and Build is essentially the only community that is constant throughout, so we operate much as a small town would. It's been fun spreading rumors about glass eyes and pregnancies and watching people actually believe them. News spreads fast on the grapevine when you're living in such close quarters. One of the positives of the experience is realizing how little you really need to be happy. At this point, any town that will feed, wash, house, and provide us internet, is heaven on earth. I'll definitely never talk badly about Centreville again.
Well, just heard thunder outside so probably best that we get going. Until then, peace out hombres.
Hills here are rolling and constant, but on the whole not nearly the bear that they were in New England, particularly New York. There's a road called Hunter's, which takes you up the aptly named Hunter's Mountain, that will always have a space in my heart of hearts. Quite possibly the most extreme vertical climb that I've ever seen before, and one that I hope I never see again. The rides the last two days, into Willsboro and Coudersport respectively, have been very nice. Today I flew through the first half of the ride with Shira, one of our trip leaders, with whom I took turns telling life stories with. The ride culminated in a 2424 elevation climb up what is aparantly a part of the Alleghany Mountain chain, a little hill called Denton. After that it was pretty much all downhill.
We're getting closer, though a man in the library reminded us that there is still a very long way to go. It's been interesting, traveling with relative quickness through the eastern states. It'll be strange when we're spending more than seven days in just one, when it used to take only two or three. Before long we'll be in Iowa, which I'm sure will be an interesting experience to say the least considering the spot of bad luck the state's had recently. For those even more cut off from the world outside than we are, Iowa's essentially underwater after a serries of floodings. Hopefully our stay won't be too much of a burden on our hosts as they try to get back on their feet.
I've found that, despite the fact that we're traveling across a whole continent, our world really has shrunk a lot. Bike and Build is essentially the only community that is constant throughout, so we operate much as a small town would. It's been fun spreading rumors about glass eyes and pregnancies and watching people actually believe them. News spreads fast on the grapevine when you're living in such close quarters. One of the positives of the experience is realizing how little you really need to be happy. At this point, any town that will feed, wash, house, and provide us internet, is heaven on earth. I'll definitely never talk badly about Centreville again.
Well, just heard thunder outside so probably best that we get going. Until then, peace out hombres.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Internet at Last!
Ironically, in a country where technology is king, internet is harder to find than water. Right now I'm sitting at an wi-fi cafe in Binghampton, New York, with half of our group. A lot has changed since Brown. We've ridden a lot, we've ridden a lot uphill, and we're all tired. At the moment though, we're happilly plugged in and enjoying a few pitchers and fellowship.
Like I said, a lot has changed. We've passed through three states: Rhode Island, Connecticut, and now we're finishing up New York. I've kept saying that our definition of words like hill, tired, and hard will be evolving things. I can confidently say now that I'd never climbed real hills before this trip, that I had never been profoundly tired, and I had never done anything harder. I've also learned that Connecticut is a really hilly state, as are New York and Rhode Island. Thankfully Rhode Island was crossed in the span of a day, so those hills weren't so bad.
We've had great stays, with very hospitable hosts. One in particular that sticks out in my mind is Roscoe, New York. They were our hosts last night, after what was definitely our worst day yet and supposedly one of the harder days on the trip. Yesterday was a seventy plus mile day with some really nasty climbs. At least that's what our cue sheets said. What really happened was we got lost several times, the first of many being as we were trying to leave Poughkeepsie and just get out. The day ended up being around eighty nine miles, and instead of getting there at four like we were supposed to we pulled in around seven o clock. The hosts made it up to us though.
Even before an amazing potluck dinner of pasta, grape leaves, meatballs, and amazing desert, they blew our minds. One of the hosts presented us with a certificate of Congressional recognition. Apparantly one of their senators thought that Bike and Build was a truly incredible organization; we agree of course. Sleeping arrangements were even better. The owner of a diner in town promised us full beds at a Catskills inn resort with air conditioning, private showers and television. The sunset was incredible. We were greeted with a hot pancake breakfast, complete with eggs and sausage. Needless to say I'll be making my way back to Roscoe on my own sometime.
We're making our way to Pennsylvania in two days after our build day tomorrow in town. It's great to be off the bike, even for just a day. My saddle sores need time to heal. I have no idea when I'll be able to get back on this machine, but I hope that I'll be able to update more frequently. In the meantime, call, write, and send care packages! Slowly but surely we're crawling towards the west, and it's starting to dawn on all of us how quickly the end will come. Until then, I'm enjoying the ride.
Peace out hombres!
Like I said, a lot has changed. We've passed through three states: Rhode Island, Connecticut, and now we're finishing up New York. I've kept saying that our definition of words like hill, tired, and hard will be evolving things. I can confidently say now that I'd never climbed real hills before this trip, that I had never been profoundly tired, and I had never done anything harder. I've also learned that Connecticut is a really hilly state, as are New York and Rhode Island. Thankfully Rhode Island was crossed in the span of a day, so those hills weren't so bad.
We've had great stays, with very hospitable hosts. One in particular that sticks out in my mind is Roscoe, New York. They were our hosts last night, after what was definitely our worst day yet and supposedly one of the harder days on the trip. Yesterday was a seventy plus mile day with some really nasty climbs. At least that's what our cue sheets said. What really happened was we got lost several times, the first of many being as we were trying to leave Poughkeepsie and just get out. The day ended up being around eighty nine miles, and instead of getting there at four like we were supposed to we pulled in around seven o clock. The hosts made it up to us though.
Even before an amazing potluck dinner of pasta, grape leaves, meatballs, and amazing desert, they blew our minds. One of the hosts presented us with a certificate of Congressional recognition. Apparantly one of their senators thought that Bike and Build was a truly incredible organization; we agree of course. Sleeping arrangements were even better. The owner of a diner in town promised us full beds at a Catskills inn resort with air conditioning, private showers and television. The sunset was incredible. We were greeted with a hot pancake breakfast, complete with eggs and sausage. Needless to say I'll be making my way back to Roscoe on my own sometime.
We're making our way to Pennsylvania in two days after our build day tomorrow in town. It's great to be off the bike, even for just a day. My saddle sores need time to heal. I have no idea when I'll be able to get back on this machine, but I hope that I'll be able to update more frequently. In the meantime, call, write, and send care packages! Slowly but surely we're crawling towards the west, and it's starting to dawn on all of us how quickly the end will come. Until then, I'm enjoying the ride.
Peace out hombres!
Friday, June 6, 2008
One to Go
Providence is here. In fact, it's been here for the past two days. Orientation has gone on pretty much without a hitch, punctuated by several fun times and one degreasing party. Since we've been here, the unspoken consensus seems to be: congregate in the largest bedroom possible. That just so happens to be Jake and Peter's room. What started as a few people giving their bikes a deep clean quickly turned into roughly a third of the riders knocking at the door asking about degreaser. I enjoyed it immensely; not only did I learn a bit about a few of the riders I hadn't talked to much, I also learned a bit about bike maintanence.
Yesterday we had our shakedown ride, among other things. It was an easy, scenic twenty mile ride around the suburbs of Providence. The bike casualty numbers so far have been two flats, each belonging to Mike and Katie respectively, and my front deflector. I don't miss it much. The whole experience was great, and it really increased a lot of our enthusiasm to start the ride in earnest tomorrow.
Today we had our first build day inside the Providence Habitat's warehouse building wall frames. We made twelve in all, adding to the fourteen that Providence to San Fran made the day before. The results of our combined efforts were a wall frame for each room of the two story duplex. I say our combined efforts, although really we would have been nowhere without the experienced builders that helped us along the way. My group and I worked with Tony, a hilarious native Rhode Islander who proclaimed us "the slacker group". We were the group who finished the most frames. The whole ordeal was a bit spotty a few times, but good humour kept us going, particularly Tony's.
At the moment, we're about to go paint the trailer, something of a bike and build tradition. It's going to be hard to show up last year's paint job; apparantly a lot of last year's riders were art students, or they should be. My own personal suggestion? Just right "Providence to Seattle 2008". No one will ever be the wiser. I'll be sure to post photos as I have them!
The real work starts tomorrow with a forty mile ride across state lines. Yeah, Rhode Island is essentially the size of a large city. It's going to be legendary. Peace out hombres!
Yesterday we had our shakedown ride, among other things. It was an easy, scenic twenty mile ride around the suburbs of Providence. The bike casualty numbers so far have been two flats, each belonging to Mike and Katie respectively, and my front deflector. I don't miss it much. The whole experience was great, and it really increased a lot of our enthusiasm to start the ride in earnest tomorrow.
Today we had our first build day inside the Providence Habitat's warehouse building wall frames. We made twelve in all, adding to the fourteen that Providence to San Fran made the day before. The results of our combined efforts were a wall frame for each room of the two story duplex. I say our combined efforts, although really we would have been nowhere without the experienced builders that helped us along the way. My group and I worked with Tony, a hilarious native Rhode Islander who proclaimed us "the slacker group". We were the group who finished the most frames. The whole ordeal was a bit spotty a few times, but good humour kept us going, particularly Tony's.
At the moment, we're about to go paint the trailer, something of a bike and build tradition. It's going to be hard to show up last year's paint job; apparantly a lot of last year's riders were art students, or they should be. My own personal suggestion? Just right "Providence to Seattle 2008". No one will ever be the wiser. I'll be sure to post photos as I have them!
The real work starts tomorrow with a forty mile ride across state lines. Yeah, Rhode Island is essentially the size of a large city. It's going to be legendary. Peace out hombres!
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