tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89614546001422054872024-02-08T15:12:28.017-05:00cyclingwestMy bicycle journey from Washington DC to the Grand Canyon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-69459504066626384722011-10-24T12:03:00.002-04:002011-10-24T12:04:00.439-04:00Updated versionPlease go to: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?o=1r4vFZo&doc_id=8626&v=Qh<br />for an updated version of the blog with more pics and commentsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-4357815436728603842011-04-27T12:48:00.006-04:002012-02-09T12:28:13.231-05:00With hindsight...: Months laterI would have used the panniers. What was I thinking? As usual my arrogance got the better of me. The heavy rucksack messed up my back and it looks like it will be a long road to recovery. It took months for the numbness in my toes and fingers to completely subside. My tan has faded but, even after 10 months, a blurry line is still visible just above my knees. I could have gone slower as I finished my trip with 3 days to spare. I could have taken more pictures, I could have paused longer to take it all in. But probably long enough would never be enough. I could have been a better writer, I could have written a better journal, more descriptive, less boring.<br /><br />One final word on America. I do not want to celebrate it with cheap words and used sentences. I was happy on the roads of America. It is as if they were made to be traveled on, as if they were built to provide relief for journeymen, drifters, travelers, lonesome, for the abandoned, for the runaways. I have witnessed a lot on the road. The diversity of the American wilderness is engaging to the point of complete fascination of the colors, the lights, the details. It sweeps it all: from the grand vistas of the Monument Valley or the Grand Canyon to the small details such as the insignificant worn out barn or the tender green of grass fields. And then I can talk about the diversity of the people. These are the ordinary folks, people that you don't normally see, you hardly hear. They do not have mad lives, there are the quiet ones, the happy ones, the fulfilled, the peace-seekers, the unassuming, the relaxed. But they are also the lonely, the wretched, the miserable, the broken ones. There are about 300 million different stories and they are probably not too differnt in their essence, the details may be different but they all strive for similar things. A solitary ride through the United States is worth a thousands relations.<br /><br />I need to give credit to the hundreds of people I have met. Now they all seem part of a faceless crowd. The people I met are, without any equivocation, friendly, helpful, warm, curious, open to dialogue. It must come from the spirit upon which this country was built. It is a philosophy, it is a creed, it is a desire to help. The founders' vision is carried forward through small things, seemingly insignificant gestures. These are the people that make this country. And the country is yours for the taking. Taking not in the sense of stealing but in the sense of making it yours, making it personal, learning from it. It shows its beauties and its scars. It is wide open, it is there to be discovered. It is up to you. <br /><br />I am back to my "normal" life now. I miss the open road, I miss the excitment and the challenge that riding 100 miles+ a day brings. I miss getting on the bicycle in the early morning hour when the sun is barely out, the fresh air pinches your skin and the road ahead is long and empty and the world is silent. I miss the sense of expectation. <br /><br />I like missing all this.<br /><br />An overwhelming sense of satisfation has filled me since my days on the road. It is not joy, it is not even happiness. It is rather a sense of stability, of peace that America has given me. I just hope it is going to linger a while longer. I am sure it will.<br /><br />I have completed one of the best things I have ever done in my life.<br /><br />To my dear grandfather.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-16654090358847775042010-09-08T20:23:00.038-04:002012-02-02T15:40:08.728-05:00DAY 33: LAS VEGAS, JOURNEY'S END<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TInMMllAHpI/AAAAAAAABU8/mw3xcub-vz0/s1600/day+34+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TInMMllAHpI/AAAAAAAABU8/mw3xcub-vz0/s400/day+34+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515163735309688466" /></a><br /><br />109 km (67 miles) - total: 4607 km (2862 miles)<br /><br />Ash Fork, Az to Las Vegas, Nv<br /><br />The alarm clock in my brain woke me up and I knew what I had to do. <br />I shot out of the motel this morning with the same urgency I had all month, determined to make it to Vegas. A descent of 2000 ft over 100 miles and a generous tailwind were gonna help me do it. I flew on the road for 3 hours, through Seligman and Kingman. It was a very good ride indeed given that the terrain was seriously hilly and that there were no services for over 45 miles. It was a solitary ride, I must have been passed by a handful of cars in the Arizona wilderness. I don't mean to brag but it takes a lot of confidence to tackle a 45-mile stretch of a hilly and lonely road in Arizona without services and with only two full water bottles. No chance I would have done it on day one. Now, after 32 days of America, I probably would have done it with one water bottle, maybe even less. <br /><br />And so it was with this unshakable poise that I set out this morning to complete my final stage, all the way to the city of blinding lights. Even an understandable moment of questioning whether it was right or wrong to still be cycling after reaching my goal could not sway me. I felt determined and unfazed by the prospect of spending 12 hours (once again) riding under the unforgiving sun in the Arizona desert. As I left the hotel I was soon aided by the intense pleasure of riding on US 66 and a good tailwind which by late morning turned into a crosswind. The thing is even as confident and healthy as I felt, I knew that the bicycle had been ridden to its edges. It was going to let me down sooner or later. I hadn't had it serviced since Colorado and the shift felt very jumpy. I did not eat the whole morning; I did not take pictures, I rode like a competitive racer, determined to get to the end, oblivious to pain. However, after a cursory look at the map, by the time I reached Kingman I thought I was done for the day. I walked the downtown area for a while, I visited the US 66 route museum and then I thought it was probably a good idea to look for a motel. But as it happened before on this trip, my head says one thing and my guts tell me something else. On seeing the Vegas sign I couldn't help it. I thought "what the hell, let's do it!". I decided to press on. At this point I felt I had nothing left to lose so I might as well go for it, one last time, one last sprint, one last laughable dream. I ate 2 power bars and drank 2 Gatorades and I was off again. If I was gonna make it to Vegas in one day it would have to be done the hard way: I would have to ride over 170 miles today, which would have been my record, and on my very last day of the tour, what a twist!<br /><br />From Kingman I still had 100 miles to go before reaching Vegas so naturally the wind was going to be the biggest factor. And, for once, the gods were benevolent and turned the winds in my favor. I pushed on along Highway 93 north bound. It was 4 miles north of Kingman where it happened. I was riding on a very rough-surfaced shoulder, full of gravel and debris which always pose serious threats to the tires. At one point, unable to ride inside the lane due to the passing traffic, I steered the bike once again into the shoulder where there was a considerable amount on loose gravel. I felt the back wheel rocking vigorously and after a split second the tire completely deflated. I was lucky not to fall. I dismounted and I looked at the tire and saw a big nail stuck in it. It opened a large gash and I immediately knew that my trip was over. No more cycling. There was no point in changing the tube as the tire was wrecked too. The next bike shop would have been in Vegas so I had two options: walk back to Kingman and get a bus or try to hitch a ride from where I was. I went for option two and after 5 minutes standing by the side of the highway a truck stopped and this incredibly kind man, Jim, gave me a ride all the way to Vegas. During the drive I told Jim about my trip and we had a pleasant conversation. He lives in Reno; he used to play American football and rides a mountain bike on weekends. We got to Vegas in no time and he was kind enough to help me find a bike store. I left the bicycle there where it will be packed for air travel.<br /><br />I bought Jim lunch to repay the generosity he has shown me and then he left. For the very first time in 31 days I was on the road without the bicycle. An incredibly odd feeling. I felt naked and deprived. I kept looking around to see where I had left it. I walked the Strip, through the flashy, sun-baked Vegas sights still in my bicycle gear and understandably felt out of place. I should have walked into a store to buy a pair of pants and a t-shirt but I didn't feel like it. What I wore defined my identity. I am still a cyclist, I am not part of the crowd, not yet at least. I checked into a hotel and tried to block of all my thoughts from swirling inside my head. I managed to sleep after a hot bath. The bed felt reassuring. I took a long deserved rest. I will rest for a couple of days before my bicycle and I will fly back to DC. <br /><br />My trip has painfully come to an end. I have to go back being myself again. I have a return ticket and I will use it. This is it. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp2ydaNjI/AAAAAAAABUU/AmmcZfyqaiY/s1600/day+33+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp2ydaNjI/AAAAAAAABUU/AmmcZfyqaiY/s400/day+33+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774133694150194" /></a><br />Route 66 in Kingman<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp12kNHJI/AAAAAAAABUE/LJ_tHaMoNbM/s1600/day+33+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp12kNHJI/AAAAAAAABUE/LJ_tHaMoNbM/s400/day+33+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774117616524434" /></a><br />Route 66 celebration<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp1BGoYpI/AAAAAAAABT8/Mp9nUfMsfNA/s1600/day+33+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp1BGoYpI/AAAAAAAABT8/Mp9nUfMsfNA/s400/day+33+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774103265403538" /></a><br />Route 66 diner<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp0jATKTI/AAAAAAAABT0/lm61TzCgMjU/s1600/day+33+007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp0jATKTI/AAAAAAAABT0/lm61TzCgMjU/s400/day+33+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774095185783090" /></a><br />Kingman, a great place to be if you are a route 66 fan<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp2d3fQqI/AAAAAAAABUM/skckfSkboWU/s1600/day+33+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhp2d3fQqI/AAAAAAAABUM/skckfSkboWU/s400/day+33+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774128166388386" /></a><br />Last picture taken from the bicycle, 30 seconds later the nail will puncture my tire<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqlCdQpMI/AAAAAAAABUc/g6g1tYucvHU/s1600/day+33+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqlCdQpMI/AAAAAAAABUc/g6g1tYucvHU/s400/day+33+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774928262472898" /></a><br />Unmistakable evidence<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqmSc413I/AAAAAAAABUs/O3xygUw2SfM/s1600/day+33+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqmSc413I/AAAAAAAABUs/O3xygUw2SfM/s400/day+33+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774949735749490" /></a><br />The guilty nail!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqlw8vspI/AAAAAAAABUk/GV0TYp8a1w8/s1600/day+33+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqlw8vspI/AAAAAAAABUk/GV0TYp8a1w8/s400/day+33+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774940742562450" /></a><br />The gash<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqm5ovEUI/AAAAAAAABU0/3kCPmYjBldg/s1600/day+33+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIhqm5ovEUI/AAAAAAAABU0/3kCPmYjBldg/s400/day+33+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514774960254423362" /></a><br />Hoover Dam, 30 miles south of Vegas<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TInMNpLOKiI/AAAAAAAABVM/zzocGPx2_xs/s1600/day+34+024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TInMNpLOKiI/AAAAAAAABVM/zzocGPx2_xs/s400/day+34+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515163753455168034" /></a><br />Bellagio Hotel<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TInMNAyV8qI/AAAAAAAABVE/M0slC6jLmxo/s1600/day+34+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TInMNAyV8qI/AAAAAAAABVE/M0slC6jLmxo/s400/day+34+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515163742613402274" /></a><br />Not really the city of blinding lights, but rather a blurry and senseless blend of confusion and fatuity. The lights, the blur, the sleaze, the third-rate gamblers, the cheap tourists and the vacuity of Vegas were an unfitting end to my trip but I had to fly back from somewhere!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-46039474365244014062010-09-07T20:53:00.044-04:002011-10-24T12:00:52.999-04:00DAY 32: ROUTE 66!111 km (69 miles) - total: 4498 km (2794 miles)<br /><br />Grand Canyon South Rim, Az to Ash Fork, Az<br /><br />I am so lucky. After the Appalachians, after crossing the Mississippi, after Kansas, after Colorado and the Monarch Pass, after Utah, after the Monument Valley, after the Grand Canyon, I get to ride my bicycle on historic route 66. What else can I ask for? <br /><br />I will not put the blog to sleep just yet as with the remaining 3 days I cannot think of anything better to do than to continue cycling. I will try to make it to Las Vegas. The bicycle does not feel as smooth and the tires are seriously worn out, so the bicycle might die out before I do!<br /><br />My attempt to get to Vegas took a serious blow today as unexpected rain and a big dip in temperature hit Grand Canyon this morning. I didn't feel like getting soaked so I waited for the rain to let up, which didn't happen until 11.30. That left me with only a few hours of daylight and with a very wet and slippery road. I still made good time to Williams, where I crossed paths with the historic route 66! As I left the town, I followed unpaved country road 124. I cycled and walked on that unpaved road for 11 miles. I did not ride the bike as conditions on this bit were horrible and I feared my tires would be seriously damaged. That totally killed my chances of getting as far as I would have liked. I cycled on until 8pm but then I had to stop in Ash Fork before total darkness would leave me stranded. I was lucky to find a motel with wifi and a little restaurant where I helped myself to 3 main courses. The waitress could not believe how much I ate. It's past 11 now and I still feel in great shape and in even better spirits. I think it is the adrenaline that's keeping me awake. My planned stop for today's stage was Seligman but it will have to wait until tomorrow. Is it irrelevant at this point that I entered the Pacific time zone? <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboDWCRN8I/AAAAAAAABSs/PaBpJXsw87M/s1600/day+32+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboDWCRN8I/AAAAAAAABSs/PaBpJXsw87M/s400/day+32+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514349937914099650" /></a><br />Tusayan, it is never fun to watch the rain<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboDwYmssI/AAAAAAAABS0/h3RVzNDd_UU/s1600/day+32+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboDwYmssI/AAAAAAAABS0/h3RVzNDd_UU/s400/day+32+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514349944987103938" /></a><br />It is raining in the Grand Canyon and it looks like I am sitting this one out <br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboCDQZpsI/AAAAAAAABSc/23wWFsKqlpg/s1600/day+32+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboCDQZpsI/AAAAAAAABSc/23wWFsKqlpg/s400/day+32+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514349915693229762" /></a><br />A beautiful bed of flowers along highway 64<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboC1P9R3I/AAAAAAAABSk/daqtzThwACQ/s1600/day+32+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboC1P9R3I/AAAAAAAABSk/daqtzThwACQ/s400/day+32+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514349929113143154" /></a><br />Flintstones Bedrock City in Valle, along Highway 64<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboEWlR-rI/AAAAAAAABS8/nhdG_eJV1go/s1600/day+32+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIboEWlR-rI/AAAAAAAABS8/nhdG_eJV1go/s400/day+32+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514349955240819378" /></a><br />When I entered Williams and I saw a Los Angeles sign for the very first time I thought about it...500 miles in 3 days...now that's a challenge...but for once I decide to use my head...<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqPo49cdI/AAAAAAAABTk/u1nvVme87Mk/s1600/day+32+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqPo49cdI/AAAAAAAABTk/u1nvVme87Mk/s400/day+32+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514352348157014482" /></a><br />I am under the spell of route 66 and americana<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqN5EasvI/AAAAAAAABTM/YtEqd4Wpvbw/s1600/day+32+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqN5EasvI/AAAAAAAABTM/YtEqd4Wpvbw/s400/day+32+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514352318140297970" /></a><br />Under the sign of US 66 route in Williams<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqNBT4LfI/AAAAAAAABTE/Rgb3f5f58kQ/s1600/day+32+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqNBT4LfI/AAAAAAAABTE/Rgb3f5f58kQ/s400/day+32+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514352303172759026" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqO7cFumI/AAAAAAAABTc/_lvNP5a9OyY/s1600/day+32+011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqO7cFumI/AAAAAAAABTc/_lvNP5a9OyY/s400/day+32+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514352335956327010" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqOeYcHrI/AAAAAAAABTU/Ysi3aq0Rh0A/s1600/day+32+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIbqOeYcHrI/AAAAAAAABTU/Ysi3aq0Rh0A/s400/day+32+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514352328156389042" /></a><br />The unpaved road from Williams, I cycled, I walked, I run. It took me 6 hours to cover 23 miles, by the time I left the Forest I was starving and frustrated<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIcRZyof29I/AAAAAAAABTs/ZxkN0vbEszM/s1600/day+32+night+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIcRZyof29I/AAAAAAAABTs/ZxkN0vbEszM/s400/day+32+night+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514395403524496338" /></a><br />Almost 8pm when I reach a populated area, I felt like a savage coming down the mountainsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-44654810616622507342010-09-06T23:56:00.026-04:002012-02-02T15:37:55.404-05:00DAY 31: GRAND CANYON! I MADE IT!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIXCdQKqwhI/AAAAAAAABQ0/9VEqDbWIfLk/s1600/day+31+047.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIXCdQKqwhI/AAAAAAAABQ0/9VEqDbWIfLk/s400/day+31+047.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514027126596747794" /></a><br /><br />131 km (82 miles) - total: 4397 km (2732 miles)<br /><br />Tuba City, Az to Grand Canyon Village, Az<br /><br />I made it! I reached my goal today. I crossed that imaginary finishing line tightly extended at the Grand Canyon National Park gates. No trophy awarded, no cameras to immortalize the moment, no pats on the shoulders from onlookers. Just swarms of people and busloads of loud tourists. I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and walked the bicycle through the parked vehicles as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed in my life. All I know for sure is that I did it and I did it 3 days ahead of schedule. <br />When I woke up this morning I had that 'last day of school' feeling. I packed my backpack and silently checked out of the motel. And I was on the road again. Not many thoughts...just one...get my ass to the Grand Canyon. I just flew today. Not even a steady head wind could deter me, I clocked the first 40kms in 1h 15min. The road unfolded like a straight sword shining in the sunlight and continued on a steady ascent all the way to the gates of the Park. I saw the Gran Canyon sign early in the morning but even then I knew I was gonna make it comfortably. Despite a very long climb, during which I gained 3000ft, from 4000ft at Tuba City to the 7000ft of the South Rim- I passed through the South Rim gates just after 1pm. And that was it. I could relax, I could enjoy the scenery and put away my worries of not making it. <br /><br />I must thank all my friends and acquaintances and I thank them for their support over these past 31 days. I was not so sure about writing a 'live' journal during a bicycle trip. However, it proved to be a successful decision indeed. Initially, I had my reservations. Besides having to carry the weight of the laptop on my shoulders, I knew that I would have to keep a clear mind at the end of each day, after many hours of strenuous physical exercise, in order to be able to report faithfully and clearly on the day's action. I hope I have achieved that. I hope I have been expressive, desriptive and that style of writing made it all at least mildly entertaining. My hope was to communicate and to capture a small fraction of what I have lived through for 31 days on the road. I find it hard to translate my life on the road from my heart and mind to the 'screen' in a meaningful and coherent way. I simply tried to share the unbridled freedom that cycling on the roads of America has given me.<br /><br />This is my Conrad's shadow-line, I have fullfilled my childish dream. I now I can put away childish things and get on with my life. <br /><br />I am not gonna say much about the Grand Canyon, much has been written and much has been said about this massive scar on the surface of the earth sculpted by the muddy waters of the Colorado river. It is spectacular, imposing, humbling, inspiring. Everything people say about it it is true. I think you just have to see it for yourself. I cycled all afternoon along the South Rim enjoying the views and snapping away as much as I could. I certainly had a mixture of emotions after completing what has been an incredibly long journey. I am emotionally overloaded at the moment and I feel a pinch of fatigue sneaking in. A coat of mental fatigue is gradually taking hold of my brain. I find it hard to process the information. I have before me a deluge of emotions, images, sounds, colors, thoughts that it is all so overwhelming at the moment. Mentally, I can let it go, all the fear, all the anguish, all the attention, all the discipline, all the self-constriction, the mental confinement, the rigor...all of that I am gonna let it all go. It is exhausting. <br /><br />Exactly one month on the road, 31 days, 2 rest days, 1 flat tire, zero injuries, lots of wind and lots of road. My legs feel heavy now and the sun is setting over the Canyon. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5j7oX4OI/AAAAAAAABR0/uFkvrcyvc80/s1600/day+31+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5j7oX4OI/AAAAAAAABR0/uFkvrcyvc80/s400/day+31+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514228451971162338" /></a><br />I am away, on my final stage<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5keM-paI/AAAAAAAABR8/k50F8hN_tSo/s1600/day+31+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5keM-paI/AAAAAAAABR8/k50F8hN_tSo/s400/day+31+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514228461251503522" /></a><br />When I see this sign I am still 73 miles away from the Canyon but my heart begins to pound hard<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5kmTH0EI/AAAAAAAABSE/qHvZaBv8-M0/s1600/day+31+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5kmTH0EI/AAAAAAAABSE/qHvZaBv8-M0/s400/day+31+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514228463424753730" /></a><br />Junction with H64, the last turn for me!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIXCclgqcXI/AAAAAAAABQs/mu0FNbE8exQ/s1600/day+31+011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIXCclgqcXI/AAAAAAAABQs/mu0FNbE8exQ/s400/day+31+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514027115146277234" /></a><br />After many attempts, this is the picture I was looking for<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5lObbyjI/AAAAAAAABSM/ySJ85dJPuAk/s1600/day+31+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ5lObbyjI/AAAAAAAABSM/ySJ85dJPuAk/s400/day+31+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514228474197035570" /></a><br />Bikers on Highway 64<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZQ7J3UYuI/AAAAAAAABRM/EPCui1ICzjs/s1600/day+31+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZQ7J3UYuI/AAAAAAAABRM/EPCui1ICzjs/s400/day+31+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514183770952196834" /></a><br />12.44pm, I see the sign I have been dreaming about for 31 days<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZQ7vo-GEI/AAAAAAAABRU/7NXpsf2Ne8c/s1600/day+31+070.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZQ7vo-GEI/AAAAAAAABRU/7NXpsf2Ne8c/s400/day+31+070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514183781092563010" /></a><br />V-victory<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ8XLxojFI/AAAAAAAABSU/0axkfxVmv1Q/s1600/day+31+048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZ8XLxojFI/AAAAAAAABSU/0axkfxVmv1Q/s400/day+31+048.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514231531501554770" /></a><br />She carried me across the US for 31 days<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIW-b1IuSeI/AAAAAAAABQk/ojrhm_Q8saU/s1600/day+31+045.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIW-b1IuSeI/AAAAAAAABQk/ojrhm_Q8saU/s400/day+31+045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514022704114452962" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZSLU9-fRI/AAAAAAAABRc/N4i7-wFRHjE/s1600/day+31+085.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZSLU9-fRI/AAAAAAAABRc/N4i7-wFRHjE/s400/day+31+085.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514185148322446610" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZSLxMZ5-I/AAAAAAAABRk/di_4sbgV7ig/s1600/day+31+095.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZSLxMZ5-I/AAAAAAAABRk/di_4sbgV7ig/s400/day+31+095.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514185155899156450" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZTGC1nFxI/AAAAAAAABRs/BMMsM6IrgzE/s1600/day+31+114.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIZTGC1nFxI/AAAAAAAABRs/BMMsM6IrgzE/s400/day+31+114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514186157067802386" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-56874176748088133892010-09-05T15:44:00.063-04:002012-02-02T15:41:13.413-05:00DAY 30: ARIZONA!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO7rDD5KI/AAAAAAAABP0/ctPp9mEJ96s/s1600/day+30+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO7rDD5KI/AAAAAAAABP0/ctPp9mEJ96s/s400/day+30+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513618630883140770" /></a><br /><br />149 km (93 miles) - total: 4266 km (2650 miles)<br /><br />Monument Valley, Ut to Tuba City, Az<br /><br /><br />As I locked my shoes to the pedals of my bicycle this morning I threw a long glance at the stark beauty of the rocks of the MV rising from the desert bed with somber power under a cloudy sky. It appears as if the morning haze offers the big stones even more grandeur and nobility. It is a spectacular image, revisited, amplified and exploited by decades of clever work by the Hollywood movie industry. <br />After only 2 miles on the road I passed the Arizona sign and there I was entering on my two wheels the 8th and last State of my trip. I am sorry to leave Utah for it has given me an unforgettable setting to ride in, it has provided me with the silence and desolation I was longing for. But I welcome Arizona, now I am so close to the end of my cross-country adventure. It could be tomorrow.<br /><br />I did a bit of research about this State. Arizona is a good name for a place but there is some disagreement over the origin of the name, some believe the name is an abbreviation of the Spanish phrase arida zona, or 'dry region', but others argue that it comes from the Basque phrase 'aritz onak', or 'good oaks'. The name Arizonac was initially applied to a silver mining camp, and later, when it had been shortened to Arizona to the entire territory.<br /><br />Day 30 has been a long, long day with a constant headwind of 25-30 mph. After that 'journey to hell and back' in Kansas (day 22), this has been the toughest day of my trip and after the pathos, the gravitas, the passion yesterday at the MV, today's ride was about getting the job done, it was unremarkable and monotonous. I was more worried about fighting the wind and watching out for passing cars than anything else. I am glad it's over and I am only 82 miles from the Grand Canyon, I should be there tomorrow night, I should be able to wrap up my trip with 3 days to spare. Should I complain? When I left DC I had no idea if I was going to make it halfway, now that I am here, now that I have crossed 7 States, I feel the urgency to press on and maybe I should carry on and cycle all the way to LA. Is it my ambition biting the nails of success? Of course it is. But no, I will not complain.<br /><br />But I will definitely complain about the wind today. Cycling into a headwind is like trying to run with a giant hand pulling you back. No matter how hard you paddle you just seem to be standing still. Now I understand why most riders go from West to East instead of going cross-country from the East coast to the West. I don't mind the rain, the heat, the cold, traffic, hunger, flat tires, heavy legs, give me anything but don't even mention the wind. As I left Kayenta and got closer to Tuba City the landscape began to change and I entered a very arid region where the sun beats down on you and the annual rain fall is very low. And today was no exception, it was by far the hottest day of the trip but while DC provides some incredibly humid heat, here it is extremely dry (only 12% humidity today) so it is bearable. Temperatures exceeded 100f but I did not sweat much and the winds did not give me a chance to realize how hot it was. The desert here is silent and severe, unsentimental, uninspiring, poised, daunting. There are no angels in this desert. There is no communication. No room for error, as if the land is telling you 'don't f**k up now 'cos if you do you are going to die'! The road is long and straight. All you've got to do is travel along. All you hear are the whispers of a dry wind that forces its way through the sand dunes and the defeated bushes, kicking tumbleweeds from every corner, sweeping the plains with unrelentless force to leave human beings no chance at happiness whatsoever. You may take solace in the limitless sky. It is after all a sheltering sky, where no truth lies covered and no cloud that will live forever. This kind of sky has a lot of character. It is bold and dreamy and deep. I cycled under it, under all it contains, through the wind and the sand. The color is not red anymore; it is more like beige, some kind of pale orange. The wind kicked up a lot of dust from the side of the road which flew up right into my face and mouth. Not only did I sweat America but I also ate it! I had a dry throat for most of the day and I did curse at the wind once in a while but when I saw the Tuba City sign at around 6pm after almost 10 hours on the bicycle I was so relieved that I said to the Gods of wind in defiance "you blew strong today but you didn't blow me off the road!". However, I have to admit that today I didn't like cycling. Today I wish I had been somewhere else. The wind does not allow you to enjoy the ride or the scenery. The wind makes for a slow grind, a painstakingly hard work on the road when every part of your body goes to work. And the mind controls everything. If I hadn't been so close to my final stage I might have stayed in bed today! I had to keep my wits about me for the whole ride as I remembered well what happened in Kansas. The wind kept hitting my bike, making it skid a little on the hot road surface. Not once did I lose sight of where my front wheel went so I didn't take many pictures and didn't flirt at all with the scenery. I just wanted to get myself home in one piece. <br /><br />Forecast predicts heavy winds for tomorrow as well so I will have to stay focused, eat and drink plenty tonight and be ready for hard pedaling if I want to make it to Tusayan. There is only one service point on the 82-mile stretch. I will have to carry extra weight on my shoulders. And there are no motels until the Canyon so if I leave here I will have to make it. It is my last stage and it might be the toughest one. I will try to leave early as the wind is supposed to intensify after 10 am. No problem...bring it on! <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO8HQOP7I/AAAAAAAABP8/Ch7jt1RbCso/s1600/day+30+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO8HQOP7I/AAAAAAAABP8/Ch7jt1RbCso/s400/day+30+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513618638454538162" /></a><br />Early morning and this is what I am leaving behind<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO6wd_MXI/AAAAAAAABPk/uvAKV6G2wWU/s1600/day+30+011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO6wd_MXI/AAAAAAAABPk/uvAKV6G2wWU/s400/day+30+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513618615158387058" /></a><br />It doesn't take long for the sun to come out on highway 163<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO7Sy-KBI/AAAAAAAABPs/am-oVVKtS78/s1600/day+30+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO7Sy-KBI/AAAAAAAABPs/am-oVVKtS78/s400/day+30+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513618624373205010" /></a><br />Highway 163 looking East<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO6f3zKlI/AAAAAAAABPc/-lm5fydfHXs/s1600/day+30+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRO6f3zKlI/AAAAAAAABPc/-lm5fydfHXs/s400/day+30+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513618610703247954" /></a><br />A pit stop in the middle of nowhere<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRCgEjMVI/AAAAAAAABQc/8SFw149dY3U/s1600/day+30+031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRCgEjMVI/AAAAAAAABQc/8SFw149dY3U/s400/day+30+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513620947218936146" /></a><br />Bikers <br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRB586gYI/AAAAAAAABQU/Y-2rmdLcKLA/s1600/day+30+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRB586gYI/AAAAAAAABQU/Y-2rmdLcKLA/s400/day+30+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513620936986362242" /></a><br />Arizona dry desert landscape<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRBnoDiMI/AAAAAAAABQM/o-N5YH2GqtA/s1600/day+30+025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRBnoDiMI/AAAAAAAABQM/o-N5YH2GqtA/s400/day+30+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513620932067035330" /></a><br />Arizona, highway 163, on the road...<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRBJ1DUeI/AAAAAAAABQE/qdnT589YrO4/s1600/day+30+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIRRBJ1DUeI/AAAAAAAABQE/qdnT589YrO4/s400/day+30+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513620924068483554" /></a><br />While I am battling the wind this is the landscape from the side of the highwayUnknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-72939296609691225372010-09-04T17:54:00.060-04:002012-02-02T15:34:47.740-05:00DAY 29: AMERICA'S MASTERPIECE<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMIsUHO-gI/AAAAAAAABNE/4VUHVheR7CI/s1600/day+29+night+082.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMIsUHO-gI/AAAAAAAABNE/4VUHVheR7CI/s400/day+29+night+082.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513259926237936130" /></a><br /><br />120 km (74 miles) - total: 4117 km (2558 miles)<br /><br />Blanding, Ut to Monument Valley, Ut<br /><br />I knew that today was going to be the day when I would stop in the middle of the red-rock desert and say "My God, I cycled all the way across the US for this!"<br />I hardly slept last night as I was so excited. Yesterday, for the very first time during my trip, the motel I tried to check-in in denied my request to have my bicycle in the room, so I tried my luck elsewhere and I lodged at a very comfortable Super8. After stretching and a quick breakfast, I was on the road at 7.45 and I immediately passed the 4000km mark. I flew through the miles from Blanding to Bluff, then Mexican Hat and finally the Monument Valley. I cycled south on highway 191 and then on 163. The ride was incredible and the MV is spectacular. It should be on anyone's the-5/10/50/100-things-to-do-before-you-die list. There is no end to aesthetic discovery in this land.<br /><br />I am not capable to describe the complete pleasure and ectasy when riding this state. The silent Utah roads snake through incomprehensible geological formations and afford a unique and romantic scenery in which one cannot but thank God for being alive. My gaze was glued to the rocks all around me, the narrowing canyons and the mind-blowing colors. I think I rode with a smile on my face the whole morning. This is why I came. This rush of adrenaline, this being fully awake that makes me think that probably too much oxygen is flowing into my body, this is what I live for. The rest is mere preparation. It all comes down to a few moments. Happiness is condensed into an array of fleeting, untidy moments. And this is one of 'em. <br /><br />At 10.45am, a few miles before I reached Mexican Hat, I climbed a steep hill and a whole valley stretched before my eyes and at the very end of it I could make out the flickering silouhette of the big solitary monoliths. I cycled faster, almost in a frantic state. I felt incredibly fresh, like I had just started my trip. Riding towards the MV erased those 4000km from my legs and breathed new life into me. I did not stop, I did not even drink. It took me almost 3 hours to get to them. The wide open landscape and lack of any form of visual reference makes judging distances a very deceptive process. At about 1.30 I was right by the stately buttes and mesas of Monument Valley. The towers rise hundreds of feet from the plateau and stand like majestic pyramids on the desert floor. Their shape and deep red color define the landscape of the classic American West. It is an awe inspiring view that seems to defy time and space. The towers stand sentinel in the middle of the desert standing strong against the wind, the sun and all the elements. This spectacular desert scenery of this remote location has become the definition of the Wild West. And yet, there is much more to it, there is something magnetic, a lure that I cannot comprehend, it is not just the buttes or the valley, it is the smell of the warm air, the reflections of the sunshine on the dry bushes and the red sand, the long road that twists and turns, the unbearable heat that melts the horizon, the desolation of the desert, the overwhelming vastness of the open spaces, the tantalizing intimation of all the mystical qualities of this strange land, it is the myth of a place that contains so much cultural and natural history that seem to belong to a different era.<br /><br />What is it that has drawn me all the way here in the middle of a searing desert? Why did I come here? Why do people come here? To enjoy the view? To take pictures? To learn? To celebrate anniversaries? There is no breeze, there is no sound, and there is no right answer. There are just a lot of good questions I suppose. And I don't need answers. I look around and there is a big group of tourists grappling with a limitless number of angles from where to take the best pictures. I run into tourists for the very first time on this trip. I feel an outsider, I belong on my bicycle on the road and I can't fit in here. I am also a tourist but the road has done something to me. I carry only a pair of pants, socks, t-shirt and whatever essential I can carry on my back. For 30 days I have washed what I wear unrelentlessly, as if by getting rid of sweat and dust I could wash away the memory of the previous day. The road corrupts. I knew it. It is the sweat that has been dripping into my eyes for the past 29 days on the roads of America that has changed me. I lost my balance or maybe I have acquired a new one. It takes a lot to lose balance, it takes a lot of balls I think...to be a new man. The only balance I know is the balance to ride my bicycle. Becasue I am cycling, I am running away. All the rest is constantly shifting. There are no boundaries anymore...to anything. I think one of the reasons I am here it is because I respect this land, I come merely with respect and reverence for the land. The simple fact that I am here is a reward for my long journey. I am humbled by the beauty of this land. And maybe a little terrified. The desert lies open before me, its soul lies bare. The desert is raw, naked, exposed. The land lies uncovered. Is it a land of secrets? The silence of this land exudes secrecy. But no secrets can be hidden by an open land, right? I will remember cycling in the desert, alone, in total silence for the rest of my life. I will remember how the cool early morning air quickly turns into arid heat and how the color of the sand changes accordingly. I will remember all the times I stopped by the side of the road to sip water from my water bottle and all I could hear was my heavy breathing and the wind. And I will remember my long shadow reflected on the paved road and my sweaty arms holding my bicycle straight and my legs tight ready for another push.<br /><br />Looking at the Monument Valley I am thinking I am almost done cycling. And what now? The sun reaches toward the horizon as dusk beckons. Shadows lengthen. Colors amplify. Liquid shadows flow together into concealing darkness. I take more pictures of the timeless sandstone monoliths that stand guard unafraid, proud, almost haughty in the valley. I cannot believe what nature has done. Centuries of weathering has given the sandstone monolith a distinctive profile. Tapering from the top, heavy erosion gives the monolith the appearance of a giant stone, isolated, lonely and yet so reassuring. The info given to me reveals that layers of sandstone, siltstone and shale were deposited here in ancient times and were buried for millennia until, like the rest of the Utah and Colorado Plateau, it was uplifted and folded. Eroded by wind and rain, soft red shale undermines the stronger, vertically-jointed sandstone, producing the many buttes and pinnacles. It is a fascinating story.<br /><br />I am waiting for the stars to come out. They too will play with my imagination. The world slowly fades before my eyes. Up above, a blanket of stars intensifies and reveals the power and the beauty of a starry night in the desert. The sky is not quite black, it is steel blue, it is dark violet and other colors I don't even have names for. I find myself in southeastern Utah, near the border of Arizona, standing on top of a mesa looking at the distinctive silhouette of the red rocks against the dark sky. I am in Navajo land, an area that is of sacred significance to the Navajo, the Dine (People), they used to be an empire and now they are reduced to a colorful backdrop to a John Wayne picture and...and to all of our pictures. I sit in silence to contemplate the view and I look at the tires of my bicycle and they are worn out, smoothed down by the miles. Maybe I feel satisfied, maybe the extent of my achievement is dawning upon me, maybe I don't feel fresh anymore, maybe I am aware that I have 4000 km and 30 days of cycling in my legs, maybe I am 170 miles away from my finishing line and from a new beginning. I will make this one count. I will.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc3DtezQI/AAAAAAAABNM/WocrUcQqyXM/s1600/day+29+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc3DtezQI/AAAAAAAABNM/WocrUcQqyXM/s400/day+29+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513282101046070530" /></a><br />4000 km!!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc3u-FZ6I/AAAAAAAABNU/xC_RF1lROGQ/s1600/day+29+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc3u-FZ6I/AAAAAAAABNU/xC_RF1lROGQ/s400/day+29+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513282112658433954" /></a><br />Early morning on Highway 191, perfect conditions and I am flying at 37 kph! <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc4x86ZWI/AAAAAAAABNs/D9zW2bC0KSQ/s1600/day+29+029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc4x86ZWI/AAAAAAAABNs/D9zW2bC0KSQ/s400/day+29+029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513282130638693730" /></a><br />Just me and the bicycle on the Utah highway<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc4J8h3AI/AAAAAAAABNc/LFkvkkRQ9BA/s1600/day+29+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc4J8h3AI/AAAAAAAABNc/LFkvkkRQ9BA/s400/day+29+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513282119899667458" /></a><br />Highway 191 entering a canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc4eZnptI/AAAAAAAABNk/ZvFS-sEFQiM/s1600/day+29+023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMc4eZnptI/AAAAAAAABNk/ZvFS-sEFQiM/s400/day+29+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513282125390390994" /></a><br />The "twins"<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtFgPYIfI/AAAAAAAABN0/IfLgaDyvYgc/s1600/day+29+038.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtFgPYIfI/AAAAAAAABN0/IfLgaDyvYgc/s400/day+29+038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513299941408645618" /></a><br />10:48 am, I come off a steep hill, wipe the sweat off my eyes and this is what I see: the very first sighting of the MV <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtGkoD8PI/AAAAAAAABOE/Db11HrNT2FA/s1600/day+29+053.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtGkoD8PI/AAAAAAAABOE/Db11HrNT2FA/s400/day+29+053.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513299959765790962" /></a><br />"Mexican Hat" , the sombrero-shaped rock formation<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtGCfqtyI/AAAAAAAABN8/j3ZzOJziImM/s1600/day+29+043.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtGCfqtyI/AAAAAAAABN8/j3ZzOJziImM/s400/day+29+043.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513299950603777826" /></a><br />The Valley of the Gods<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TILPmCmwaMI/AAAAAAAABM8/1iteDrauj2Y/s1600/day+29+061.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TILPmCmwaMI/AAAAAAAABM8/1iteDrauj2Y/s400/day+29+061.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513197146296314050" /></a><br />The classic view!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtHW6ZT3I/AAAAAAAABOU/aMcLxbzugQg/s1600/day+29+080.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtHW6ZT3I/AAAAAAAABOU/aMcLxbzugQg/s400/day+29+080.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513299973264461682" /></a><br />MV butte<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtG4N8biI/AAAAAAAABOM/kmtwLszK-v8/s1600/day+29+073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMtG4N8biI/AAAAAAAABOM/kmtwLszK-v8/s400/day+29+073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513299965024955938" /></a><br />I made it! 4100 km from DC to this on my bicycle!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwo8eI5QI/AAAAAAAABO0/c4xpUczrP-U/s1600/day+29+night+026.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwo8eI5QI/AAAAAAAABO0/c4xpUczrP-U/s400/day+29+night+026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513303848817059074" /></a><br />No caption needed for these next pics<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwob7akJI/AAAAAAAABOs/iUX-goZil6M/s1600/day+29+night+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwob7akJI/AAAAAAAABOs/iUX-goZil6M/s400/day+29+night+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513303840081481874" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwnyAajFI/AAAAAAAABOk/n53qr8NUgpU/s1600/day+29+night+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwnyAajFI/AAAAAAAABOk/n53qr8NUgpU/s400/day+29+night+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513303828828163154" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwnaz2-fI/AAAAAAAABOc/ABHbUDjeSrw/s1600/day+29+night+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwnaz2-fI/AAAAAAAABOc/ABHbUDjeSrw/s400/day+29+night+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513303822601484786" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwpGCTIvI/AAAAAAAABO8/uFfyixPo6nM/s1600/day+29+night+071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMwpGCTIvI/AAAAAAAABO8/uFfyixPo6nM/s400/day+29+night+071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513303851384644338" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMyeT_iUZI/AAAAAAAABPU/FMn38MggS38/s1600/day+29+night+070.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMyeT_iUZI/AAAAAAAABPU/FMn38MggS38/s400/day+29+night+070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513305865175847314" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMyeKZ9UqI/AAAAAAAABPM/K9BvYv8aKdQ/s1600/day+29+night+081.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMyeKZ9UqI/AAAAAAAABPM/K9BvYv8aKdQ/s400/day+29+night+081.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513305862602314402" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMydhOK44I/AAAAAAAABPE/vgyeecMQ-U4/s1600/day+29+night+086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIMydhOK44I/AAAAAAAABPE/vgyeecMQ-U4/s400/day+29+night+086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513305851547018114" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-18788390066797454982010-09-03T19:05:00.050-04:002012-02-02T15:41:52.759-05:00DAY 28: Natural Bridges<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGLUQdJkoI/AAAAAAAABK8/2rjNBYzEFvM/s1600/day+28+067.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGLUQdJkoI/AAAAAAAABK8/2rjNBYzEFvM/s400/day+28+067.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512840599009071746" /></a><br /><br />126 km (78 miles) - total: 3997 km (2483 miles)<br /><br />Monticello, Ut to Blanding, Ut<br /><br /><br />3km short of 4000. I am making progress, with one State left to enter, to explore and to finish my bicycle adventure.<br />I am in awe, in complete awe of Utah. I shouldn't write much today. I should not even attempt to describe the setting I rode in, my words would impoverish the scenery through which I cycled. However, for the record: I was up early and I made good time from Monticello to Blanding. For the very first time I had a tailwind and I flew those 20 miles. I got there before 9 and it was too early to check in. So I emptied my backpack of its contents and left my stuff at the motel and took only water and food and I was on my way to the Natural Bridges National Monument, 37 miles West. It was a pleasure to ride with almost no weight on my shoulders. I had forgotten what it was like to ride the bicycle unburdened. That made for a more enjoyable ride through some of the most incredible, lonesome, inspiring landscapes I have ever seen. Under a hot sun I followed highway 95. The road meandered through valleys, gorges, canyons, hills and open spaces. I must have encountered no more than 10 cars the whole day. It is a bit like doing a tour of the British Museum off-hours when all the statues, the exhibits and the halls are mine and mine alone. The variety of geological formations was astonishing. Highway 95 is one of Utah's scenic byways. I kept stopping to take pictures. Every angle better than the previous one, every strech of road more singular and unique than the previous one, an ensemble of beauty that never tires me, never bores me. It is alive and I come alive. <br /><br />I cycled through rugged hills, impossible rock formations and imposing red walls of sandstone hearing only the lulling sound of my bicycle wheels rolling on the paved road. The only regret that I feel is that I will never be able to describe the feelings through my words, to anyone. So I guess it is just between me and the earth. I climbed the many steep inclines rapidly -gaining 2000ft in one of the ascents- and I reached the Park at noon. I spent about 2 hours admiring the Bridges before taking to the road again back to Blanding via the same road I traveled on in the morning. It has been an incredible day. I experienced the beauty of cycling in open spaces completely engulfed by the thrills of nature cuts right through and clarifies one simple truth: that we are one with the earth. The wildeness is now inside me and will be in every fiber of my being until the day I die.<br /><br />I have enjoyed learning a bit about the "Bridges". They were discovered quite late, in 1883 by a man who was searching for gold. In 1904 President Theodore Roosevelt saw a picture of the Bridges and he fell in love with them. He established Natural Bridges National Monument, which is Utah's first National Park System area. Nature cannot be shackled: the three bridges were sculpted by water. They are formed by windblown sand and later through the relentless action of water against the cross bedded sandstone. It's interesting to understand that, through time, water percolation weakens the rock wall to the point of creating a hole which can grow to the size of the current natural bridges. And just as nature takes its course, the bridges are temporary, blocks fall from their underside and the surface wears thin. The geology of Utah, the study of geology for that matter, tells me that everything, just everything, even the heaviest, sturdiest and most solid elements are subject to change. Nothing can stay the same. <br /><br />Utah is where the jagged rock formations are relentlessly exposed to the elements. Arches, buttes, pinnacles and spires rise pink, golden, orange, peach and they are continuosly transformed by mother nature. Utah is where the canyons create a maze as far as the eye can see.<br /><br />In the evening I went food shopping in Blanding with a thousand thoughts swirling in my mind. On my way out of the store I met two girls who are doing a cross-country bike ride from Maine to San Francisco raising funds and awareness for bringing safe and clean drinking water to people in developing nations. They have been on the road for 2 and 1/2 months. Now that is determination! That is a true purpose. I felt admiration for me and deep deep shame for me. I bought a water bracelet from them thus pretending to contribute to their worthy cause. Enjoy the rest of your trip young girls! All those things, those things that seem like irrefutable certainties to you will one day change and so will you. As for me, I stopped thinking and dug in a chewy sandwich and loads of fresh fruits. After traveling West for 27 days, tomorrow I will go South, next stop: Monument Valley. I know what I am looking for. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGWGurodUI/AAAAAAAABLM/PhFyQiHHiO8/s1600/day+28+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGWGurodUI/AAAAAAAABLM/PhFyQiHHiO8/s400/day+28+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512852461232616770" /></a><br />Just my shadow on the lonesome highway<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGUC684rzI/AAAAAAAABLE/TnkkOQzMsE4/s1600/day+28+093.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGUC684rzI/AAAAAAAABLE/TnkkOQzMsE4/s400/day+28+093.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512850196783476530" /></a><br />Rock walls by the side of highway 95<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGHrmDmpAI/AAAAAAAABK0/W1r9IfDcBYY/s1600/day+28+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGHrmDmpAI/AAAAAAAABK0/W1r9IfDcBYY/s400/day+28+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512836601897985026" /></a><br />Butler Wash Indian ruins<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGdkU400fI/AAAAAAAABL0/S3tlrPlZ2u8/s1600/day+28+030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGdkU400fI/AAAAAAAABL0/S3tlrPlZ2u8/s400/day+28+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512860666286100978" /></a><br />Rock formations by highway 95<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGbzc5_gMI/AAAAAAAABLs/5_DzzucayIg/s1600/day+28+028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGbzc5_gMI/AAAAAAAABLs/5_DzzucayIg/s400/day+28+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512858727113261250" /></a><br />View from H95<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGaeaIzGlI/AAAAAAAABLk/J_EYq3qI_V0/s1600/day+28+024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGaeaIzGlI/AAAAAAAABLk/J_EYq3qI_V0/s400/day+28+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512857266081176146" /></a><br />H95<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGxwXyP3aI/AAAAAAAABMs/hzhY1P2yA6s/s1600/day+28+091.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGxwXyP3aI/AAAAAAAABMs/hzhY1P2yA6s/s400/day+28+091.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512882863454805410" /></a><br />Scenic Highway 95<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGwHTJUXrI/AAAAAAAABMk/cBtqL6ruE5Y/s1600/day+28+079.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGwHTJUXrI/AAAAAAAABMk/cBtqL6ruE5Y/s400/day+28+079.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512881058323127986" /></a><br />View from Highway 95<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGYSOaipFI/AAAAAAAABLc/23l7b_7Bn58/s1600/day+28+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGYSOaipFI/AAAAAAAABLc/23l7b_7Bn58/s400/day+28+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512854857752683602" /></a><br />H95<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGXQR7KR9I/AAAAAAAABLU/z5oFLRfghmg/s1600/day+28+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGXQR7KR9I/AAAAAAAABLU/z5oFLRfghmg/s400/day+28+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512853724823439314" /></a><br />H95<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGg5n4DMXI/AAAAAAAABL8/h-6ainLF26Y/s1600/day+28+038.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGg5n4DMXI/AAAAAAAABL8/h-6ainLF26Y/s400/day+28+038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512864330695258482" /></a><br />On a hot day I was finally able to ride in a vest, entrance to the Park<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGmERYwXfI/AAAAAAAABMU/9d0YrmGnE5U/s1600/day+28+049.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGmERYwXfI/AAAAAAAABMU/9d0YrmGnE5U/s400/day+28+049.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512870011195121138" /></a><br />Sipapu Bridge<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGmDnUEhxI/AAAAAAAABMM/AKe0AA5Pjhw/s1600/day+28+043.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGmDnUEhxI/AAAAAAAABMM/AKe0AA5Pjhw/s400/day+28+043.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512869999901181714" /></a><br />Sipapu Bridge<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGmC63EySI/AAAAAAAABME/AcCqWc_Q1RM/s1600/day+28+041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGmC63EySI/AAAAAAAABME/AcCqWc_Q1RM/s400/day+28+041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512869987968403746" /></a><br />S. Bridge and Canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGngkyUvPI/AAAAAAAABMc/ySlme8w8II8/s1600/day+28+068.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIGngkyUvPI/AAAAAAAABMc/ySlme8w8II8/s400/day+28+068.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512871596950600946" /></a><br />Owachomo Bridge<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIG-kGiKrtI/AAAAAAAABM0/vnwPBOMpu6Q/s1600/day+28+072.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIG-kGiKrtI/AAAAAAAABM0/vnwPBOMpu6Q/s400/day+28+072.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512896946316685010" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-55370259481399331702010-09-02T20:05:00.052-04:002012-02-02T15:42:33.724-05:00DAY 27: UTAH!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBsTYKeCYI/AAAAAAAABJs/zVNEa0sIQyg/s1600/day+27+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBsTYKeCYI/AAAAAAAABJs/zVNEa0sIQyg/s400/day+27+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512525024061163906" /></a><br /><br />140 km (86 miles) - total: 3871 km (2405 miles)<br /><br />Montrose, Co to Monticello, Ut<br /><br />Today I entered Utah, the 7th state of my trip. I ate a huge breakfast and quickly checked out of the motel and left Montrose at about 7.30 with lots of water and food supply on my back as I knew I was gonna cycle through some unpopulated areas, through the forest and a long strech on highway 141 with no services. Last night I walked to the local Wal-Mart to buy dry food for today's stage. As far as steep grades -with two climbs at about 9000ft- I knew that I had a long day ahead if I wanted to see the Utah sign before sundown. For most of the morning I rode through the Uncompahgre National Forest which afforded scintillatingly beautiful views of the Rocky Mountains. After 10 miles it got interesting as a long part of the road through the forest is unpaved so I had to walk the bike, I did not want to cycle on dirt and gravel for fear of a puncture. The walk there was incredible as I was completely alone and could enjoy the tall trees, the fresh air, the silence, the flora and fauna. While I was dragging the bicycle through the woods, I thumbed a ride from a local bee keeper, the only vehicle I saw the whole way in the forest. After a few miles we reached surfaced road and I was able to cycle again. I felt extremely good and kept on going strong, hitting an average of 28 kph before I had to climb one more time. Later I got a taste of what Utah is all about by riding on highway 141, where parts of the movie Thelma and Louise had been filmed. I think Utah is my favourite state. It is rugged, barren, hot, dry, romantic, dramatic, deserted, melancholy, hilarious, tender, acrid, lonely, magnetic.<br />I spent several hours riding in the Colorado wilderness and have been passed by a couple of big lorries that was it. The road was incredibly silent and the scenery was majestic. I do need time to let all this sink in. I have just entered Utah and now I know for certain that barring mechanical problems to the bicycle, I will reach my final destination, maybe even with a day or two to spare. My body feels in perfect condition, I don't have a single scratch on me and I cannot think of a single impediment that would get in the way- maybe the wind could frustrate my effort. I must say that I am growing in confidence by the day, as if between the road and myself a perfect harmony has been established, like two strangers who initially do not speak of words of their languages but after a very emotional event or an ordeal of some sort magically become inseparable and forever connected. I have been getting on the bicycle early every morning, I have endured blisters on my butt and on my hands, I have stood numbness in my toes, I have carried a heavy rucksack for a month while cycling, I have feared and dodged the traffic of the American road, I have fought the winds of Kansas and Colorado, I have climbed the Appalachians in the East, I have tamed the Rocky mountains in the West and I am right in the middle of the Wild West. I have cycled almost 4000 km to get this far, I relied on my legs, my heart and my lungs. Traveling on your own fuel represents a different type of means of transportation. It is an unusual feeling. It makes you vulnerable and invincible all at once. You own what you do. I feel I own this country, I own the West because I fought for every mile to get this far and I belong on the road, at least until I go back to leading an ordinary life. The road keeps calling me every morning with a different voice, because every morning is a different challenge. <br /><br />Tomorrow I will be riding into the Natural Bridges Park and the day after I will turn my bicycle South to the Monument Valley. There I want to ride at night, I want to savor the late sunlight and possibly spend the night in the open. These are the dreams already dreamt, this is the life already lived, these are the places seen on TV and read in the comic books. I have never seen the Monument Valley but I know that when I see it I will have seen it already. I am in the slipstream!<br /><br />I knew America when I was 20, now I am 35 and I am dreaming it all up again. America has changed since then, or has it? This is a country that it is trying to make good on its promises and yet it will always openly and unashamedly show its scars and flaws. The history of Utah embodies the lack of humanity and the ruthless treatment that the white man has bestowed upon the Natives, the black, the Hispanic, the minorities. Forget about being politically correct, the road has shown me that there isn't such a thing. Life here is about fighting to stay afloat. America doesn't show remorse. And why should it? You might get a chance or you might not. But it is not just about luck, it is also about how bad you want it. I am entering a twilit night of the soul on this country's byways, I can't see the end of the tunnel but light won't fade because there is compassion in America's everyday life, there is a can-do attitude and there are civic values submerged by cosmic pragmatism and resolution and yet they survive. I am fascinated by the muddled and unassuming decency of the suburban Midwest, from the warped, thwarted and banal ambition of the East to the sedentary and laid-back pace of the West, sentiments which I got to know on my bicycle. And then there is the unspoken. There is a sense of veiled despair in America, of vivid failure, possibly because of the Iraq war, a gigantic disaster that got people thinking that Vietnam taught nothing. The mood is gloomy, and silently bleak. People smile but communication is superficial. Behind the smile there is affliction, in the handshake there is tremor. The meaningful remains unsaid when promises have been broken. Riches are yet to be found along the American highway. What's next? <br /><br />Now that I got this far I am gonna go even farther. I need to ask questions, I need those doubts. I need those big open spaces, under whose vast skies I know I will fail to come to terms with what, if anything, life in America is all about. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBXYK40MJI/AAAAAAAABJE/Ke2JpdLK7Sk/s1600/day+27+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBXYK40MJI/AAAAAAAABJE/Ke2JpdLK7Sk/s400/day+27+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512502016652619922" /></a><br />Montrose, early morning<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBfR72SwGI/AAAAAAAABJM/Q6h9PlVkHQs/s1600/day+27+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBfR72SwGI/AAAAAAAABJM/Q6h9PlVkHQs/s400/day+27+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512510705629315170" /></a><br />Highway 91, pavement ends before the road reaches the Forest<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBk04AjbfI/AAAAAAAABJc/Ki9DB1odSfY/s1600/day+27+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBk04AjbfI/AAAAAAAABJc/Ki9DB1odSfY/s400/day+27+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512516803452169714" /></a><br />Inside the MNF<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBk1aK52_I/AAAAAAAABJk/H7psS458Kz8/s1600/day+27+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBk1aK52_I/AAAAAAAABJk/H7psS458Kz8/s400/day+27+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512516812622388210" /></a><br />The view from the M. Forest Pass<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBxxl859zI/AAAAAAAABJ8/luX-AMiZhDc/s1600/day+27+028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIBxxl859zI/AAAAAAAABJ8/luX-AMiZhDc/s400/day+27+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512531040716584754" /></a><br />This is the scenery upon entering Utah<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB0_TDY9LI/AAAAAAAABKE/kVtlYNIAgA0/s1600/day+27+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB0_TDY9LI/AAAAAAAABKE/kVtlYNIAgA0/s400/day+27+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512534574696559794" /></a><br />Exiting Colorado the road turns South and I can see the rugged land in the distance<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB6jBItI2I/AAAAAAAABKU/JasLCfkAWQE/s1600/day+27+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB6jBItI2I/AAAAAAAABKU/JasLCfkAWQE/s400/day+27+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512540685920445282" /></a><br />Red rock, red clay of Utah coming up!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB6it4NOWI/AAAAAAAABKM/YDp2sv9ZAqg/s1600/day+27+030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB6it4NOWI/AAAAAAAABKM/YDp2sv9ZAqg/s400/day+27+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512540680750971234" /></a><br />Past the state line the scenery changes dramatically<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB6jpI7qtI/AAAAAAAABKc/v7YS7vw03QA/s1600/day+27+032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB6jpI7qtI/AAAAAAAABKc/v7YS7vw03QA/s400/day+27+032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512540696658815698" /></a><br />Classic!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB-wv2VyEI/AAAAAAAABKs/jYF-mKYIX6c/s1600/day+27+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB-wv2VyEI/AAAAAAAABKs/jYF-mKYIX6c/s400/day+27+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512545319844694082" /></a><br />This sign is just outside Monticello<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB-wHLiYNI/AAAAAAAABKk/rfUXwTh1__Y/s1600/day+27+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TIB-wHLiYNI/AAAAAAAABKk/rfUXwTh1__Y/s400/day+27+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512545308927746258" /></a><br />Highway 491 ends in MonticelloUnknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-23753262252458741372010-09-01T19:31:00.028-04:002011-10-25T23:13:23.326-04:00DAY 26: Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park145 km (90 miles) - total: 3731 km (2318 miles)<br /><br />Gunnison, Co to Montrose, Co<br /><br />Another day of passion through the gorges and the canyons of Colorado. Another day of climbing, of fighting steep grades and wintry temperatures. And the scenery is getting better and better.<br />I had a sleepless night, my legs were still pedaling hard to reach a high snow-covered Pass somewhere in the mountains. After yesterday's effort adrenaline was still rushing and the memories of nailing the 3500mt pass didn't fade at all. I wish I could do it again.<br /><br />I was on the road at 8 this morning and for the very first time a new and unexpected element to brave awaited me: the cold. The Gunnison bank's clock read 44F (6 C). The town sits pretty high at 7703 ft but 44F was a bit too much for a 1st September morning. I later found out the Gunnison is one of the coldest cities in America with January average temperatures of -8F (-22 C). As soon as I commenced pedaling I realized how cold it was and found it hard to breathe, I didn't feel my hands and feet and of course my cotton clothes were but a feeble protection against such cold air. The sun was out but didn't make a difference and I rode the first 30km shivering to my very core. I was freezing and I kept on going and hoping to warm up in the upcoming hills. It took me a long time to feel warm and at a price. The freezing air gave me a stomach ache that lasted well through the afternoon. I didn't drink much today and the first drink was a hot tea at a grocery store! Luckily the road was incredibly scenic which kept my attention away from the freezing temperatures and for 4 miles I got to ride in a tiny but amazing canyon, the ride was simply awesome.<br /><br />After about 70 miles I reached the junction with highway 347. The Black Canyon was 6 miles North. The problem was that the road climbed 2000 feet in just over 5 miles. I was cold and had enough of climbing hills but I really wanted to see the place. I was back on the grades I experienced in the Appalachians but here in Colorado I also had the altitude to contend with. But I did well and I reached the gates of the park completely soaked in sweat. I was eager to view the anticipated black walls of the Canyon which kept my motivation up throughout the ascent. In the Park, I rode along the South Rim and I cannot describe how incredible the scenery was. The six-mile South Rim Drive leads to several overlooks from which to view the Gunnison River 2,000 feet below. These cliff walls are made up of rock that is 1.7 billion years old, some of the oldest rocks in North America. In the Canyon, the Painted Wall is the highest cliff in Colorado measuring 2300 ft from the bottom to the top where I was standing. If the Empire State Building stood on the canyon floor, it would reach slightly more than halfway to the top of the cliff! I gazed at the view and I could not take my eyes off the majestic cliffs, the mountains walls and the river that runs through the canyon. Simply breathtaking. The info provided by the park tourist office explained that the canyon has been a mighty barrier to humans. Only its rims, never the gorge, show evidence of human occupation - not even by Ute Indians living in the area since written history began. Actually, the narrowest part of Black Canyon at the river is only 40 feet across. This Canyon of course cannot be compared to the Grand Canyon as the former is smaller but it is just as imposing. Its sheer walls create startling depth, strong winds blast through the rocky walls and the mysterious black gloss and dark shadows make the place incomprehensibly eerie and fascinating. <br /><br />The history of Colorado is inextricably linked to the history of Native Americans, The area where I am cycling is inhabited by Ute Indians, especially the southern Rocky Mountains. They have been here since around 1500 A.D. making these Native Americans the oldest continuous residents of Colorado. They use to occupy the entire state and today after a series of treaties, the Ute land base of 56 million acres shrunk to less than ten percent of that. The Southern Ute Reservation (the largest Ute group) in Colorado now consists of a strip of arid, desolate land 15 miles wide and 110 miles long. Same old same, history confined the natives within a limited space where poverty levels are very high. I will ride close to the reservation if I can make it to Blanding in the next few days.<br /><br />After my visit at the Canyon I descended almost 3000ft to Montrose where I am staying tonight. Colorado is providing me with beautiful settings to ride in. I notice that the land becomes drier and stripped of vegetation as I move West. From heavily forested areas with dramatic peaks all around, the land gives way to rugged terrain, less trees, less conifers, more dry bushes and redd clay. Utah will be the drier state of my trip with its red rock parks and long solitary roads. It is time to cash in soon. This is why I came. If I can make it to Utah tomorrow night I think I might just make it to the Grand Canyon before my deadline.<br /><br />I am leaving the mountains and I am about to enter the deserts of America. <br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH74_WEeqSI/AAAAAAAABHc/GDSpMxd6HKY/s1600/day+26+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH74_WEeqSI/AAAAAAAABHc/GDSpMxd6HKY/s400/day+26+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512116761087879458" /></a><br />Highway 50, it is just me on the road <br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH74_LXhJVI/AAAAAAAABHU/BvTpCMDn_Lg/s1600/day+26+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH74_LXhJVI/AAAAAAAABHU/BvTpCMDn_Lg/s400/day+26+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512116758214944082" /></a><br />Taking a break <br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH75A_kIOyI/AAAAAAAABH0/rXgbZuIXsSI/s1600/day+26+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH75A_kIOyI/AAAAAAAABH0/rXgbZuIXsSI/s400/day+26+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512116789406350114" /></a><br />The view from West Elk Creek Scenic Byway (Highway 50)<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76BYr0y9I/AAAAAAAABIE/vfLSkwniuYU/s1600/day+26+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76BYr0y9I/AAAAAAAABIE/vfLSkwniuYU/s400/day+26+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512117895661145042" /></a><br />Highway 50 between Sapinero and Cimarron<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76A0sbUKI/AAAAAAAABH8/RAOhz76Mqps/s1600/day+26+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76A0sbUKI/AAAAAAAABH8/RAOhz76Mqps/s400/day+26+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512117885999992994" /></a><br />Highway 50 between Sapinero and Cimarron<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH75ARmR8-I/AAAAAAAABHs/Ry3mvWeDBzA/s1600/day+26+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH75ARmR8-I/AAAAAAAABHs/Ry3mvWeDBzA/s400/day+26+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512116777067344866" /></a><br />Highway 50<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH74_2vygwI/AAAAAAAABHk/kSlBXvundbk/s1600/day+26+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH74_2vygwI/AAAAAAAABHk/kSlBXvundbk/s400/day+26+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512116769859470082" /></a><br />From Highway 50<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76BvkdyzI/AAAAAAAABIM/NppnoA-MAg4/s1600/day+26+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76BvkdyzI/AAAAAAAABIM/NppnoA-MAg4/s400/day+26+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512117901804292914" /></a><br />This is the view from the road up to the Black Canyon Park<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76CHMyelI/AAAAAAAABIU/tqNF10nMVQY/s1600/day+26+023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76CHMyelI/AAAAAAAABIU/tqNF10nMVQY/s400/day+26+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512117908147436114" /></a><br />Entrance to the Park<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77O1Un0mI/AAAAAAAABI8/Fkmsr0IO8xE/s1600/day+26+044.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77O1Un0mI/AAAAAAAABI8/Fkmsr0IO8xE/s400/day+26+044.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512119226198381154" /></a><br />Black Canyon from Pulpit Rock Overlook<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77OSJZZ_I/AAAAAAAABI0/H-72QSTzQ9A/s1600/day+26+048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77OSJZZ_I/AAAAAAAABI0/H-72QSTzQ9A/s400/day+26+048.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512119216756058098" /></a><br />Black Canyon, from Painted Wall Point<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77OHTNvfI/AAAAAAAABIs/foKmGQK69rM/s1600/day+26+042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77OHTNvfI/AAAAAAAABIs/foKmGQK69rM/s400/day+26+042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512119213844446706" /></a><br />Black Canyon, Gunnison Point<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77Ni3LdkI/AAAAAAAABIk/U9MKGwK1ZGo/s1600/day+26+035.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH77Ni3LdkI/AAAAAAAABIk/U9MKGwK1ZGo/s400/day+26+035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512119204063180354" /></a><br />Black Canyon, from Gunnison Point<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76CQiTBbI/AAAAAAAABIc/uOK6x5VxViw/s1600/day+26+024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH76CQiTBbI/AAAAAAAABIc/uOK6x5VxViw/s400/day+26+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512117910653568434" /></a><br />Black Canyon, from Tomichi PointUnknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-73477924689349685402010-08-31T21:13:00.045-04:002012-02-02T15:43:32.891-05:00DAY 25: MONARCH PASS!!!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22MZ-rAPI/AAAAAAAABFs/fAVpm3dtBjU/s1600/day+25+048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22MZ-rAPI/AAAAAAAABFs/fAVpm3dtBjU/s400/day+25+048.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511761843219792114" /></a><br /><br />194 km (120 miles) - total: 3586 km (2228 miles)<br /><br />Canon City, Co to Gunnison, Co<br /><br />Welcome to the defining moment of the trip.<br />I got it! I climbed the mountain! Today was by far the most satisfying day of my trip as I reached the highest point, the Great Divide! I knew I had a shot at the Monarch Pass today, I just needed a very long day to do it.<br /><br />This morning I switched my mindframe. No more Mr. Nice guy, no longer a tourist, forget nice words, forget touring the US with the bicycle. Today I was a racer, today I wanted to gamble big, today it was do or die. No looking back, no bullshit, today it was pure adrenaline, a competition against myself dictated by the blind conviction that I will beat the road, I will beat myself, I will get where I want.<br /><br />I was up at 5.45 when it was still pitch black outside. After going through my routine, breakfast and quick stretching exercises, I was on the road by 6.30 with the sun not out yet and the air still chilly. I could only hear my breath and the lulling sound of the tires rolling on the road surface. I left Canon City and I immediately began to climb. The road led to the mountains with a gentle but steady grade, it was a sort of warm-up for the big one later on. After 15 miles or so the road found its bearings into a beautiful canyon. I rolled through the first 50 km without worrying about speed, time, mileage or anything like that. The setting had me riveted, I kept looking around me at the scenic canyon, at the light, the colors, the details and, despite my intention to "be a racer" today, I kept stopping to take pictures. I have taken many and it was hard to select a few for today's report (take note of Highway 50 from Canon City to Salida, an enchanting ride that was). After a couple of hours, the canyon gradually widened and I found myself in a lush valley ringed by mountains and cattle and flowers. It vaguely reminded me of Switzerland. I kept a steady pace and before I knew it I entered Salida, the town where I had planned to spend the night. I reached Salida having cycled 95km and it wasn't even 11am, how could I stop? I stop to refuel on my energy intake, had some food and felt in superb shape so I studied the map and I set sights on a motel 12 miles from Salida, 6 miles before Monarch Pass. The climb to the pass from Salida is 18 miles long so I thought I could break that in two stages. Who was I kidding? The minute I got back on the bike, I stared at the mountain tops before me and adrenaline immediately began to pump in my veins. I reveled in the Colorado sun feeling free and happy. I was gonna forget about motels, miles, speed, time and weather conditions and I focused all my energies on reaching the Monarch Pass, from 7000ft at Salida to the 11312ft of the Pass, a pretty intense climb. The weather was ok, not perfect but not so nasty to hamper my ride. I just said to myself "freeze everything out and just focus on getting up there". Once I left Salida the air turned chilly and it was very breezy but I knew that on the climb the wind would subside as the mountains walls shielded the road from strong air currents. To be as light as possible I got rid of all the unnecessary items from my rucksack. In Salida I threw out a pair of socks my underwear and some power bars that I had bought in anticipation of a long day ahead. To go fast on a slope you have to be nimble, it is as simple as that so I got rid of all the unnecessary weight. I locked my gaze on the road and there I was on the climb, the bicycle wheels rolling gently on a steady white line and a few cars passing me by. The scenery was just incredible, mountainous and rugged, the more I climbed the less trees grew on the mountains around me. The road kept on going up, snaking through the mountains, surging steadily, winding, calm, silent, defiant. I tried not to look up too much, the sight of the steep grades could easily sap my energies and mess up my mind. I saw big trucks coming from the opposite direction in low gear which was a source of motivation. I was sweating a lot and the pace got slower as the grades got steeper. But I didn't want to stop. I wanted it to do it all in one go, I wanted to do it in style. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do the climb with 10kg on my back and many miles in my legs and still be as agile and elegant as I wanted to be. After it was my race! The road signs and the geography of the mountains were clear and telling, I was getting closer. At 2.10, after about 2 hours of slow grind I saw for the first time the Pass above me, a few turns away, maybe 400 feet, no more. I was getting tired and increasingly out of breath. Come on I said, actually I said come on many times on the 18-mile climb from Salida to the Pass. I talked, I whispered to myself, I imagined the moment I would see the pass, and how I would react at reaching it. I made one last effort to get up there, standing on the pedals, not feeling my rucksack anymore, sweat dripping down my face. My arms, legs light as a hound, I felt good, I felt beautiful, life made sense, all made sense, I got to the Pass teary-eyed but I could not actually let it out, at least not as I would have liked to, I don't know exactly how but maybe in some crazy theatrical way, it was all inside me, I could not shout it out, I just said to myself something like 'well done boy', I felt a bit stupid saying that actually! But I think I just may have reached the point of ecstasy! I knew I would have a memory to cherish forever. And it was all mine. <br /><br />The experience of cycling to the Pass has been extremely poignant, certainly today has provided the most emotional moment of my trip. I had been thinking about this day for over 2 months and after so many doubts and uncertainties, after all that fear, fear of injuries and accidents, after the trip unfolding the way it did, the expectations, the pain, the obsession of getting to the Gran Canyon, the fear of failure, I managed not to be overwhelmed by it all. However silly, trivial or easy it might all be, it is my challenge and I am happy for it. <br /><br />The fast ascent to 3448mt possibly caused me a slight headache but wasn't sure whether it was due to the altitude or lack of sleep - didn't get much sleep last night as I was too excited to ride to the Monarch Pass (actually I woke up at 3.15 and said to myself: let's go now!). On the Pass, which straddles on the Great Divide, I took the customary pictures by the sign and devoured 3 chocolate bars but I was keen to go down rapidly as I had a steep descent to deal with. The wind was really cold and by the time I began the descent I was literally shivering. My gear was soaked in sweat and I could not change so I had to go down as quickly as possible. The descent was incredibly tense as I had to cycle down the mountain for 9 miles on a single lane with cars and trucks behind me for most of the time as they had no road nor visibility to pass me. The gusts of wind made the back wheel of the bicycle skid a lot and I stopped a few times for fear of my brake pads melting and for the pain in my arms and the numbness in my fingers and toes. Descending took more out of me than the actual climb. After 14km I breathed a sigh of relief and I was glad to be back safely on flat terrain again. The scenery changed slightly as on the other side of the Pass land got drier and more rugged. My map confirmed that if I wanted a roof over my head tonight I had no choice but to ride on another 35 miles to the city of Gunnison. By that time it was almost 3pm, had covered 140km with the huge climb and had been on the bike since 6.30 am. So I dug deep and pressed on into a headwind of 15mph. I am not even gonna talk about the wind anymore, I am beyond frustrated, feels like I have been riding into headwinds for ever. The ride to the city was uneventful and felt very long but finally at 6pm, after almost 12 hours of cycling through the Rockies, I entered Gunnison a happy but exhausted man. My legs feel a bit heavy at the moment but after a good meal and a good night's sleep I will be back for more tomorrow. <br /><br />Slight change of plans, tomorrow I am riding to Montrose and I will take a 20-mile detour to see the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, which as I have been told by a number of people that I bumped into in the past few days, it is really something worth seeing. I will spend the night in Montrose and then turn Southwest to make my way into Utah. Things are going my way, so it seems.<br /><br />--------------<br />Dedico la scalata del Monarch Pass ai miei cari nonni che domani 2 settembre festeggiano il 60esimo anniversario di matrimonio, nozze di diamante! <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tjAbD5SI/AAAAAAAABEk/DkGcgyCncyc/s1600/day+25+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tjAbD5SI/AAAAAAAABEk/DkGcgyCncyc/s400/day+25+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511752335891883298" /></a><br />Leaving Canon City with the sun barely up<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tjpAtT8I/AAAAAAAABEs/ko5sh3dMKqU/s1600/day+25+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tjpAtT8I/AAAAAAAABEs/ko5sh3dMKqU/s400/day+25+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511752346787205058" /></a><br />Early morning, my long shadow on the road<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tkmcENbI/AAAAAAAABE0/vTLx2wpsIBg/s1600/day+25+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tkmcENbI/AAAAAAAABE0/vTLx2wpsIBg/s400/day+25+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511752363276514738" /></a><br />Entering the Blackhorn Sheep Canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2-k7rHgKI/AAAAAAAABGk/vrYSx1ckwmg/s1600/day+25+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2-k7rHgKI/AAAAAAAABGk/vrYSx1ckwmg/s400/day+25+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511771060674461858" /></a><br />The road snakes into the Bighorn Sheep Canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2-lJnn7oI/AAAAAAAABGs/RuDi6BWXY_8/s1600/day+25+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2-lJnn7oI/AAAAAAAABGs/RuDi6BWXY_8/s400/day+25+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511771064417906306" /></a><br />Bighorn Sheep Canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tlXBnJMI/AAAAAAAABFE/9Zw112ct5dY/s1600/day+25+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tlXBnJMI/AAAAAAAABFE/9Zw112ct5dY/s400/day+25+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511752376318895298" /></a><br />The peaceful and intimate Canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tlFKkJOI/AAAAAAAABE8/WxCH9iq1D5Q/s1600/day+25+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2tlFKkJOI/AAAAAAAABE8/WxCH9iq1D5Q/s400/day+25+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511752371524609250" /></a><br />Arkansas river in the Canyon<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22KVOR9yI/AAAAAAAABFM/c9A8DX7QNn4/s1600/day+25+028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22KVOR9yI/AAAAAAAABFM/c9A8DX7QNn4/s400/day+25+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511761807583344418" /></a><br />Entering Salida<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22L0p19TI/AAAAAAAABFk/-lyq8Mtoons/s1600/day+25+045.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22L0p19TI/AAAAAAAABFk/-lyq8Mtoons/s400/day+25+045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511761833200317746" /></a><br />The steep road to the Monarch Pass<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH3Y56Lj6UI/AAAAAAAABG8/FnoKP5hw5QE/s1600/day+25+036.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH3Y56Lj6UI/AAAAAAAABG8/FnoKP5hw5QE/s400/day+25+036.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511800008353245506" /></a><br />Total concentration on the way up<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22LThqInI/AAAAAAAABFc/tLung_TPX2w/s1600/day+25+041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22LThqInI/AAAAAAAABFc/tLung_TPX2w/s400/day+25+041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511761824307618418" /></a><br />Up, up, up to the Pass<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22K5maFxI/AAAAAAAABFU/d7yWRGhSMK8/s1600/day+25+037.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH22K5maFxI/AAAAAAAABFU/d7yWRGhSMK8/s400/day+25+037.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511761817348216594" /></a><br />6 miles to go<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2_OxMYxmI/AAAAAAAABG0/WrEpvH4xMJU/s1600/day+25+046.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH2_OxMYxmI/AAAAAAAABG0/WrEpvH4xMJU/s400/day+25+046.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511771779415721570" /></a><br />On the Pass<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH27AZSHo3I/AAAAAAAABGM/xigfIlj02rM/s1600/day+25+053.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH27AZSHo3I/AAAAAAAABGM/xigfIlj02rM/s400/day+25+053.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511767134432633714" /></a><br />The beginning of the descent from Monarch Pass<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH27A1V7msI/AAAAAAAABGU/oAEXEh3LwDo/s1600/day+25+060.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH27A1V7msI/AAAAAAAABGU/oAEXEh3LwDo/s400/day+25+060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511767141964815042" /></a><br />After a stressful descent from the Pass I am back on flat terrain<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH26_BZ6u3I/AAAAAAAABF8/DifElLmXOBw/s1600/day+25+059.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH26_BZ6u3I/AAAAAAAABF8/DifElLmXOBw/s400/day+25+059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511767110843022194" /></a><br />On the western side of the Great Divide land is more arid<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH26_0bPxNI/AAAAAAAABGE/l1OWRWNbhBQ/s1600/day+25+057.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH26_0bPxNI/AAAAAAAABGE/l1OWRWNbhBQ/s400/day+25+057.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511767124538803410" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH26-h6ld_I/AAAAAAAABF0/48zaKMq8o3o/s1600/day+25+063.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TH26-h6ld_I/AAAAAAAABF0/48zaKMq8o3o/s400/day+25+063.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511767102390106098" /></a><br />Downtown GunnisonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-47156430093608342542010-08-30T19:05:00.023-04:002011-10-24T11:56:20.645-04:00DAY 24: Necessary stop65 km (40 miles) - total: 3392 km (2107 miles)<br /><br />Pueblo, Co to Canon City, Co<br /><br />Since I had to wait for the bicycle store to open (9.30) I was able to sleep better without the usual frenzy of having to hit the road early. I also knew that it was going to be a short day so I was able to ride at a leisurely pace and enjoy the scenery which is really something as it opens up 360 degrees wide and colorful. I kept my eyes glued to the peaks in front of me, the road I cycled on today, highway 50, leads directly to the Rockies. It's funny how I went from wild excitement at barely making out the Rockies yesterday from afar to the same wild excitement at being right at their foot. And I cannot wait for the climb. I have thought about it the whole trip.<br /><br />As I said, this was another short day due to the necessary checks on the bicycle. After the tune-up, I was able to leave Pueblo at around 11 and after three hours of easy cycling I reached Canon City, the last town before the Mountains. The wind picked up in the last 10 miles and at times it was as bad as on Saturday. I think I am not being very lucky with the wind as it has been my foe for 3 days on the trot. It is extremely frustrating because there is nothing I can do to fight the wind, it is a lost fray. Other than that, the ride to Canon City was smooth as I made my way through the rolling foothills of the Rockies inching ever close to the distant peaks. I had to cut my day short at 2pm, I feel like I have wasted two days but come to think of it I know I did the right thing as I needed the spare tubes. There are no bicycle stores until the very end of my trip so if something was to happen among the mountains I could be in serious trouble without the needed gear. And plus, my legs got a bit of extra rest time, even though I don't like to have too much rest as you drop your guard and get a bit sloppy.<br /><br />The town of Canon City, at an elevation of 5332ft (1625 mt), is a very pretty urban centre nestled at the foothills of the mountains. In Pueblo, I could see the Rockies in the distance, but having traveled 35 miles West now I see the mountains right at the end of the town streets. The hills are arid and dry, peppered with small bushes. The wind keeps sweeping down the valley walls but it is nowhere near the intensity of Kansas. The heat is not too bad either, 84 today. The famous Royal Gorge Park is just a stone's throw away from Canon City, there is a train that takes you through the Canyon on the bridge deck which hangs 955 feet above the Arkansas River, which was the highest bridge in the world from 1929, the year it was built, until 2003. Canon City is also famous for being the location of 13 state and federal prisons. I actually rode past three of them on the way into town. The city has an historic downtown area around Main st, it was built in 1858 during the famous Pike's Peak Gold Rush which kicked into gear when the California Gold Rush dried up and didn't last very long. <br /><br />So, today at dinner I kept thinking about how to take on the pass tomorrow, will I be able to get there before noon? Will I have to split the attempt into two stages? I can see myself pushing on those steep grades. I can taste my sweat and feel the pain already. Tomorrow is gonna be the biggest day of my trip. I will have an early night because I want to be on the road by 6.30 to beat the wind and the heat. If I won't make it all the way to the pass in a single day, I will have to stop in La Salida tomorrow night and then attack Monarch Pass on Wed. I am ready. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjDRUs5dI/AAAAAAAABD0/9xEGVEtswx4/s1600/day+24+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjDRUs5dI/AAAAAAAABD0/9xEGVEtswx4/s400/day+24+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511388951835633106" /></a><br />Colorado...wide open!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjDy1VBbI/AAAAAAAABD8/--hxwku7xeg/s1600/day+24+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjDy1VBbI/AAAAAAAABD8/--hxwku7xeg/s400/day+24+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511388960830850482" /></a><br />Highway 50 leads to the Mountains<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjEeCJExI/AAAAAAAABEE/pvLCwMU77Y0/s1600/day+24+007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjEeCJExI/AAAAAAAABEE/pvLCwMU77Y0/s400/day+24+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511388972427318034" /></a><br />Canon City<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjFTVG_zI/AAAAAAAABEU/m4jqOjP1O5A/s1600/day+24+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjFTVG_zI/AAAAAAAABEU/m4jqOjP1O5A/s400/day+24+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511388986733952818" /></a><br />A security guard on the watchtower of one of the city's 13 correctional facilities<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjE7mY11I/AAAAAAAABEM/FSGTpLMo5eI/s1600/day+24+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxjE7mY11I/AAAAAAAABEM/FSGTpLMo5eI/s400/day+24+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511388980363974482" /></a><br />The Rockies right behind the city<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxkJdXSw-I/AAAAAAAABEc/Th7S1mK0inY/s1600/day+24+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THxkJdXSw-I/AAAAAAAABEc/Th7S1mK0inY/s400/day+24+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511390157658571746" /></a><br />Canon City, Main st at duskUnknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-69366776750733161752010-08-29T15:31:00.052-04:002011-10-24T11:55:44.386-04:00DAY 23: Rocky Mountains, beginning to climb110 km (68 miles) - total: 3327 (2067 miles)<br /><br />La Junta, Co to Pueblo, Co<br /><br />While I have made considerable progress in the past 5 days, going the width of Kansas in 4 days, I am now stuck for at least one day. I am forced to stay an extra morning (or day) in Pueblo because today is Sunday and all the bicycle stores are closed. I need to have the bike serviced and I also need some additional tools before I can take on the Mountains. Which means that I will most certainly waste a day, which is good for my legs but I am running out of time. With 12 days left I am almost certain that I will not make it to the Gran Canyon, but hey! going all the way from DC to Colorado, right at the base of the Rockies in less than a month and possibly doing the Monarch Pass is quite an achievement. <br />Today I was able to put yesterday's troubles behind and, aided by a windless climate and an unabashed determination to get back to my normal pace, I zipped through the miles and reached Pueblo at 12pm. I felt 100% and could have easily reached Canon City or even one town farther into the Mountains but I need the bike in perfect conditions so Pueblo is a necessary stop. <br /><br />Today has been an incredibly significant day because I have always considered the sigthing of the Rockies an important landmark for me. From the plains to the mountains. When I left this morning I knew it was only a matter of time before I could make out the high peaks in the horizon. Each village I went through had elevation listed on its 'welcome to' sign - it was a boost to see that I was climbing, proof that the anticipated mountains were getting closer. As soon as I left La Junta I started keeping a look out for the mountains and 22 km through today's stage they finally appeared. At first I thought I was seeing just another cloud on the horizon, but as I got closer I realized that the cloud was in fact the snowless cap of a distant mountain. Throughout the morning they became clearer, and more defined and I felt more and more fired up and flew down highway 50 to reach Pueblo, a town at the foothills of the Rockies. From here, either tomorrow afternoon or Tuesday morning, I will begin the climb that will take me 11000 ft high up the coveted Monarch Pass. The transAm trail cuts through the Rockies Northwest on an equally high but gentler climb through the Hoosier Pass. Instead of following the official bike route, I am making my own route. I want to go West on a straight line cutting the Mountains through the steeper Monarch Pass and then turn Southwest into Utah. Given the limited time that I have, it is certainly an ambitious plan but I will give it my best shot.<br /><br />I am not sad at all to leave the high plains, they certainly are a beautiful setting to cycle in but they also provided me with the worst riding conditions I have ever experienced. I will never forget yesterday's stage, a punishing ride into the winds, a day of joy and pain that will stay with me for a long time. <br /><br />I wish to mention that yesterday morning I rode through Holcomb, the hamlet where the brutal murder of the Clutter family took place in 1959. The facts were forever immortalized by Truman Capote in his masterpiece "In Cold Blood". The book took five years to research and write, the genius of Capote was to understand that the killings were far from ordinary but rather they signified the demise of the American dream and embodied the innocence and the banality of the American soul.<br /><br />The real drama of America history unfolded right here where I am standing. Eastern Colorado is a region of historical significance. Many Indian wars were fought here, right here where I am staying the famous Cheyenne were exterminated and brutally killed in their hundreds. And more, much more. The slaughter of the bison took place on the high plains of Colorado and Kansas and of course the 'Dust Bowl'. The bison was at the very core of the Plains culture. The Indians hunted the bison and used every single part of it, from the meat to the hides, to the bones to the muscles fibers. Then the white settlers came and used only a minimal part of the bison and the rest was left to rot. By 1880 all the great beasts were exterminated, only a few remained. And the Dust Bowl was again induced by the stupidity and shortsightedness of white men. Initially, it was the bison that damaged the environment by trampling and compacting the sod but then men came and destroyed the deep grass and all the roots were gone. During droughts huge clouds of dirt from the dusty fields filled the air and some were so huge that darkened the skies of New York and Washington DC. In the Plains cities, street lights had to be turned on at noon. During the Depression, when the flow of migrants passed through the dusty Plains there was very little to grow and much less to eat. Men suffered from starvation and apathy and hopelessness. Many got sick and died.<br /><br />While I rode on the Great Plains, while I fought through the winds, while I rejoiced at the unimaginable beauty of the High Plains, while I dreamt and wondered by the legendary Santa Fe Trail, I also paused to think about the hardship, the conquest, the loss, the drama, the killings, the extermination of many men which took place right here, right on these very fields which give me a long road ahead to follow.<br /><br />For the record: In Pueblo I will briefly join the ACA route again before I part ways and head West to Utah. I am leaving the TransAmerica Trail for good tomorrow!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THr09sRpJjI/AAAAAAAABDk/bUjt8qV5kRc/s1600/day+22+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THr09sRpJjI/AAAAAAAABDk/bUjt8qV5kRc/s400/day+22+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510986434735580722" /></a><br />Holcomb<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THr0-NMhdxI/AAAAAAAABDs/P7A4MiffXNU/s1600/day+22+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THr0-NMhdxI/AAAAAAAABDs/P7A4MiffXNU/s400/day+22+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510986443572475666" /></a><br />The city park dedicated to the Clutter family<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrShkAt9VI/AAAAAAAABCU/PYQGVOfmCgI/s1600/day+23+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrShkAt9VI/AAAAAAAABCU/PYQGVOfmCgI/s400/day+23+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510948568085427538" /></a><br />A long freight train<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT-nTSNFI/AAAAAAAABDE/SEef9KU984Q/s1600/day+23+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT-nTSNFI/AAAAAAAABDE/SEef9KU984Q/s400/day+23+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510950166696440914" /></a><br />The village of Manzanola<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrSiIhMi_I/AAAAAAAABCk/VyZTtuJtk0M/s1600/day+23+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrSiIhMi_I/AAAAAAAABCk/VyZTtuJtk0M/s400/day+23+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510948577885326322" /></a><br />My first sighting of the Rocky Mountains, can you see the big dark shadow in the distance?<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT_QflEpI/AAAAAAAABDM/ZApNa-c3CAw/s1600/day+23+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT_QflEpI/AAAAAAAABDM/ZApNa-c3CAw/s400/day+23+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510950177753862802" /></a><br />Mountains appearing on the horizon<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrSjY3toYI/AAAAAAAABC0/rKsTgCyDLfY/s1600/day+23+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrSjY3toYI/AAAAAAAABC0/rKsTgCyDLfY/s400/day+23+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510948599454605698" /></a><br />The Rockies coming into focus<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT_9D8n3I/AAAAAAAABDU/7-iUuWDXeb0/s1600/day+23+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT_9D8n3I/AAAAAAAABDU/7-iUuWDXeb0/s400/day+23+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510950189717561202" /></a><br />Getting closer...<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrUAKMI5KI/AAAAAAAABDc/RNaOctGTYoo/s1600/day+23+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrUAKMI5KI/AAAAAAAABDc/RNaOctGTYoo/s400/day+23+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510950193241580706" /></a><br />...and closer!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT-KMeDbI/AAAAAAAABC8/pqzllQNo5NU/s1600/day+23+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrT-KMeDbI/AAAAAAAABC8/pqzllQNo5NU/s400/day+23+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510950158883229106" /></a><br />10 miles east of Pueblo I almost run over this snake. On my trip I have seen at least twenty dead ones, but this one was well alive!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrSi8xhlEI/AAAAAAAABCs/CYRQMku6C5Y/s1600/day+23+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THrSi8xhlEI/AAAAAAAABCs/CYRQMku6C5Y/s400/day+23+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510948591912457282" /></a><br />Entering PuebloUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-39534651542819704752010-08-28T20:55:00.051-04:002011-10-24T11:54:18.525-04:00DAY 22: COLORADO! ‘Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more’<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGUTbMzcI/AAAAAAAABAU/C-xSKd_dW-U/s1600/day+22+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGUTbMzcI/AAAAAAAABAU/C-xSKd_dW-U/s400/day+22+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510653671178554818" /></a><br /><br />198 km (123 miles) - total: 3217 km (1998 miles)<br /><br />Garden City, Ks to La Junta, Co<br /><br />What a day. I cannot believe I am now sitting on the bed in my motel room, writing the journal and almost laughing about it.<br />I don't even know where to begin. Everything happened today. The wind, I entered Colorado, my 6th state, I had my first flat tire, I took my first tumble (nothing serious, due to the wind), I entered the Mountain time zone (-2 hours from DC), I got stung by a bee, I broke my sunglasses, a bowling player gave me a lift for 8 miles before it got dark and I almost racked up 200 km. More? Despite the bad day I will come back for more in a few hours and tomorrow night I will be at foothills of the Rocky Mountains, eager to attack the Monarch Pass, 11312 ft - 3448 mt. I never thought I would make it this far this quickly. I am doing this trip on a clock so I knew that I could squeeze only a certain number of miles in before my deadline. But here I am in Colorado only 80 miles from the Rocky Mountains, I have 3200 km in my legs and I feel fine and I cannot wait to see the Rockies tomorrow. Even though I have begun a slow and steady ascent, today I was still riding on relatively flat terrain. La Junta is at 4066ft, which is the highest I have been so far on my trip. They all say that Kansas is flat but it actually isn't and that becomes apparent when you are cycling through it.<br /><br />Today I knew I had a long day ahead and when I checked the weather report last night I thought I was doomed! It forecasted strong winds from southeast of 25-30 mph, which in other words meant almost unrideable. So I was up early trying to get a head start on the wind. I was up and it was still dark outside and I left Garden City with the first rays of sunshine streaking through the houses. Despite the early start, the wind was blowing strong already. I said to myself "stick to 20 km per hour and you'll get there in 10 hours, maybe 11 with the breaks". Easier said than done. I got through the first 60km ok but then a bit of tiredness set in, I dropped my guard and things began to happen. While riding along the highway my front wheel began to rock and when I touched it it was almost flat. I immediately got to work to change it. The road I was cycling on had no shoulder which meant I changed the tire almost on the grass lining the highway. I was in the middle of nowhere between villages. There was no service area or gas station nearby so I had no choice. The wind was so strong that it took me one hour to change the flat! I had two spare tubes and applying too much pressure with my hands I accidentally ripped the first one trying to get air into it. In a state of panic, getting increasingly tired and fighting to keep the bike standing upside down as the wind was constantly tipping it to the side, with a lot care I somehow managed to put on my second and last inner tube. Throughout the whole process, I kept the bicycle still between my knees and with my hands I changed the tire. I must have looked ridiculous, in the middle of nowhere, sweating like crazy, all dirty and anxious to get out of there, fixing the bike in the wind by the side of a long and lonely road. It took me a long time to get moving again, my hands and my shorts were all black and oily and I was pretty upset because of the wind that made what should have been an easy job a grueling operation. I soon realized that it was going to be one of those days when nothing goes to plan. When I was dealing with the tire and the wind and I was trying to keep the bicycle standing to put the wheel on, I said to myself: if I can get through this I can get through anything!<br /><br />I got back on the bike and the wind was so strong that I could not ride straight. I managed to crawl into the next village, something like 5 run-down buildings and tumbleweeds and dust kicked up by gusts of wind and at the grocery store I was informed that today was the windiest day of the month. What a consolation! Probably blowing at 30-35 mph, the lady said. I waited for a few minutes but the clock was ticking and I was back on the road but again I had to stop several times because the wind would take off balance and almost knock me off. By that time my arms were pretty sore for holding on the handlebar so tight. Then the road turned Northwest for a few miles which was a reprieve with only a crosswind now, so I pushed hard and made up for lost time and rode strong to the Colorado sign which gave me a psychological boost. Entering a new time zone gifted me one hour so when I rode into Lamar, I was physically strained but with over 6 hours of daylight to spare my guts told me to carry on. When I left town I bumped into two cyclists, very nice guys, Juan and Pablo, Americans of Mexican origins, traveling from Montrose to New Mexico (is it?). If you are reading this please let me know how the ride went! When I told them that I was on my 22nd day from Washington DC they were really impressed, they said that it usually takes more than a month for riders on the TransAm to get this far. Their kind words were another needed boost to continue into what was becoming a full-on headwind. So I bode farewell and I set my sights on La Junta, still more than 30 miles away. After a few minutes I felt something burning in my shorts and I saw a bee stuck in them. By the time I picked it up it was too late, I had been stung. Just a couple of seconds after that, in a momentary lapse of concentration, a strong gust of wind knocked off my bike and I fell onto my right side, on the grass, causing my glasses to break. I yanked myself up as if there was a crowd of onlookers laughing at my clumsiness. While I was fine from the tumble my inner thigh was numb from the sting. I immediately removed the stinger and it felt absolutely fine in a matter of minutes. So I guess I was lucky. I think that adrenaline also took care of any physical pain. I checked to see if there was any damage to the bicycle and it all seemed in place so I got back on the bike cursing at the winds! By that time I was in open fields with no choice but to carry on. I pushed more and more on the pedals throwing down the gauntlet at the Gods of the winds. My obstinacy to tame the winds did not pay off this time because I was riding into a full headwind blowing with an intensity I had never experienced. I was getting more and more frustrated and to make things worse the sun was beginning to dip lower over the horizon and I didn't like the idea of getting stuck by the side of the road, in the middle of the desert at night with no food and only one waterbottle half-full. I pushed on riding into a strong headwind with gusts of crosswind, how is that possible?? I swear I had never seen such strong gusts of wind which made me stop several times for fear of falling again. The wind was so loud that I could barely hear the passing cars only 3 feet away from me. I got to 8 miles from La Junta pretty tired and increasingly upset. I knew I was gonna make it just before dusk, but it was gonna be very close and it was gonna take every ounce of energy out of me. At that point a truck stopped and the driver asked me if I wanted a lift to town. I got the bike in the back of the truck and rode with him the remaining 8 miles. His name is Jack, he plays bowling and works in a bowling alley. I told him about the Big Lebowsky and he laughed. He dropped me off at the hotel and I checked in way past 7 with a feeble sunlight but I knew I would have made it but those would have been the worst 8 miles of my life! I am glad this day is over! Tomorrow should be a shorter day, only 75 miles to Pueblo. So I can take the bike to the doc, buy some spare inner tubes, get some energy, and get ready for the big climb. Right into the Rockies. No messing about. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHr5UZBcI/AAAAAAAABBU/TOHElTGddkM/s1600/day+22+032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHr5UZBcI/AAAAAAAABBU/TOHElTGddkM/s400/day+22+032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510655175999161794" /></a><br />High grass bent by the wind <br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGTzRDg3I/AAAAAAAABAM/a6ZvvUNLU4U/s1600/day+22+011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGTzRDg3I/AAAAAAAABAM/a6ZvvUNLU4U/s400/day+22+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510653662546068338" /></a><br />Flat tire<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHpyo_t7I/AAAAAAAABA0/cJiz4yxZq78/s1600/day+22+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHpyo_t7I/AAAAAAAABA0/cJiz4yxZq78/s400/day+22+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510655139846797234" /></a><br />Me and the Colorado sign, a hopeful moment in a very eventful day<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnJM0B0WcI/AAAAAAAABCE/yNjuHJFjLiE/s1600/day+22+031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnJM0B0WcI/AAAAAAAABCE/yNjuHJFjLiE/s400/day+22+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510656841026394562" /></a><br />Hasty, Post office<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnIu5Oa4EI/AAAAAAAABB8/X-McB0txnnA/s1600/day+22+033.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnIu5Oa4EI/AAAAAAAABB8/X-McB0txnnA/s400/day+22+033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510656327025352770" /></a><br />The road looking East<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnItdk-d8I/AAAAAAAABBk/Ohqgwyh4o6E/s1600/day+22+029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnItdk-d8I/AAAAAAAABBk/Ohqgwyh4o6E/s400/day+22+029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510656302423898050" /></a><br />With Juan<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnIs8QmWwI/AAAAAAAABBc/HBqzF-4mP9k/s1600/day+22+028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnIs8QmWwI/AAAAAAAABBc/HBqzF-4mP9k/s400/day+22+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510656293480061698" /></a><br />With Pablo, I hope you guys make it home real soon to see the grandkids!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHrgHEOKI/AAAAAAAABBM/YMXdZvVkbbc/s1600/day+22+025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHrgHEOKI/AAAAAAAABBM/YMXdZvVkbbc/s400/day+22+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510655169232386210" /></a><br />Kit Carson..right!!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGVd9eNJI/AAAAAAAABAk/1Y-9qwz1QdE/s1600/day+22+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGVd9eNJI/AAAAAAAABAk/1Y-9qwz1QdE/s400/day+22+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510653691186525330" /></a><br />Downtown Lamar<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHrNHYZjI/AAAAAAAABBE/CubAUJC0_AE/s1600/day+22+024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHrNHYZjI/AAAAAAAABBE/CubAUJC0_AE/s400/day+22+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510655164133434930" /></a><br />Old locomotive at Lamar<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHqnJSomI/AAAAAAAABA8/zCrojTYxyCs/s1600/day+22+023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnHqnJSomI/AAAAAAAABA8/zCrojTYxyCs/s400/day+22+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510655153940898402" /></a><br />Trees twisting, bending, surrendering to the wind<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGV4otg_I/AAAAAAAABAs/qq73wg1LgEY/s1600/day+22+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGV4otg_I/AAAAAAAABAs/qq73wg1LgEY/s400/day+22+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510653698347205618" /></a><br />A house in Coolidge<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGUh-N_7I/AAAAAAAABAc/g2QZjcbSpnA/s1600/day+22+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnGUh-N_7I/AAAAAAAABAc/g2QZjcbSpnA/s400/day+22+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510653675083530162" /></a><br />Coolidge, a hamlet of five buildings<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnKEkkvI8I/AAAAAAAABCM/vqEjs4t1WfQ/s1600/day+22+030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THnKEkkvI8I/AAAAAAAABCM/vqEjs4t1WfQ/s400/day+22+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510657798950560706" /></a><br />Beautiful Colorado skyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-12255999551679112512010-08-27T18:09:00.022-04:002011-10-24T11:53:35.865-04:00DAY 21: Along the Santa Fe Trail<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKJLYaY0I/AAAAAAAAA_M/M7vQ9e26TvM/s1600/day+21+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKJLYaY0I/AAAAAAAAA_M/M7vQ9e26TvM/s400/day+21+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235665622262594" /></a><br /><br />177 km (109 miles) - total: 3019 km (1875 miles)<br /><br />Greensburg, Ks to Garden City, Ks<br /><br />The conquest of the American West is one of the most fascinating and dramatic adventure stories ever. And the Santa Fe Trail was the passage that made it possible. America's chronicle goes through the history of this Trail, which as they say, has tamed the American prairies. The Santa Fe trail passed right through Kansas, right at the heart of the Flint Hills. When I think of America I cannot imagine a more legendary, historical, poignant place. The Trail was life and the Trail gave life to the era of the great caravans of the frontier!<br />The Trail has faded ruts on it, almost imperceptible scars to remind of the flow of settlers, migrants, gold-searchers, adventurers, outlaws that crossed the big prairies and, at some point, got the first glimpse of the long gone American buffalo. It must have been incredible. And it must have been hard. It was hard. In perilous conditions, families on heavy horse-drawn wagons braved the quick sands, the tornadoes, the droughts, the blizzards, the snakes, the wild animals, summer and winter and all the hardship to reach New Mexico. And they made the passage. They built this historical transportation route. It is right there, through rippling prairie grass and flowers, on rolling hills, on flat open land. The trail was not just ambition or expansion, the trail was necessary as it served as a transportation route for commercial and military purposes. It lasted until the railway was built and then the trail began its fast decline. Whoever wants to travel to the American West, the Wild West, must come across the Trail. It is an essential trace of American history. It is a fascinating story behind the construction, the use and demise of this passage. In 1821, the Santa Fe Trail became America's first great international commercial highway, and for nearly sixty years thereafter was one of the nation's great routes of adventure and western expansion. The man to make the first trip was William Becknell with a few mules carrying goods. He left Missouri through Kansas and to the then Mexican city of Santa Fe. After his successful voyage and after the Mexican war, more traders took their goods on freight wagons over the Santa Fe Trail and thus the time of the great caravans began! <br /><br />The road I cycled on today runs parallel to the Mountain route of the Santa Fe Trail. Past Dodge City, I got a glimpse of the Trail and I could see or at least I thought I could see (maybe I was just imagining!) the ruts, the old tracks, the validation of the epic battles, the roadway that lasted through decades. And I certainly heard the sound of the great caravans, wailing of infants, the rattle of the wagons, coaches yelling at the horses as they barrel along the Trail, wagon wheels as they struggle on the rolling hills and through the barren fields, whips being used on horses, confused whistling, wind blowing, the chant of families, the sound of fear, the sound of expectation. Those were the frontier and pioneer days of the Wild West! This is why I came all this way through America in this fashion, cycling and fighting hard for every inch, just like the peoples of the great caravans!<br /><br />I was on the road at 7.30 this morning with perfect conditions once again. I knew the wind could cause me trouble so I kept an eye on it. I enjoyed the first few hours, and while it was blowing southeast before I reached Dodge City, just past my midpoint for the day it picked up and shifted from crosswind to a full-on headwind. To start with it wasn't too bad but by the time I left Dodge City it was really strong. It took me some time to get out of the city due to some major road works. The city is famous for being 'the cowboy capital of the world', at one time no town could match Dodge City's reputation as a true frontier settlement of the Old West. Dodge City had more famous (and infamous) gunfighters working at one time or another than any other town in the West, many of whom participated in the 'Dodge City War' of 1883. It is also the windiest city in America with an average wind speed of 13.9mph. The town has a bad smell due to all the cattle that are kept there and the meat processing plants. I was told in Wichita that Dodge City can be really dangerous at night with lots of gangs shootings. I was happy to leave it behind but by the time I did the wind had become even stronger - I crawled into Cimarron where I stopped for a break. Cimaron was a tiny place, and I needed some shade, by this time temperatures hit 92 degrees, which was still not too bad but considering the open spaces I could feel the sun on my skin. I continued rolling on my bike paddling hard to withstand the wind. When I left Cimaron I had done most of the days cycling but I still had 36 miles to go, and was told by a man that the wind was now blowing at 20mph! So I reluctantly left and pushed on.<br /><br />The area of Kansas I am going through now is far more arid than the Eastern half, and the last stretch today was almost devoid of anything other than the road, the wind, and the horizon. It was really tough going - I was working really hard just to get an average speed of above 20kph. The wind coupled with the heat made it a hard day. The wind also has the unpleasant side effects of whipping sand and grit up into your face and of making your mouth so dry that you feel thirsty all the time. All in all it was a really long, hard, hot day and by the time I crawled into Garden City 109 miles from my starting point this morning I was pretty out of it and all I wanted was a shower and a good meal. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI721qZpI/AAAAAAAAA-c/zxCeJA4bPPw/s1600/day+21+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI721qZpI/AAAAAAAAA-c/zxCeJA4bPPw/s400/day+21+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510234337257875090" /></a><br />Early morning, my shadow and the empty road ahead<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI8bzMcsI/AAAAAAAAA-s/GaRy_E97vtI/s1600/day+21+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI8bzMcsI/AAAAAAAAA-s/GaRy_E97vtI/s400/day+21+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510234347179635394" /></a><br />A long freight train<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI7bl4sJI/AAAAAAAAA-U/Ppe2eAtSRis/s1600/day+21+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI7bl4sJI/AAAAAAAAA-U/Ppe2eAtSRis/s400/day+21+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510234329943945362" /></a><br />Kansas' finest<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLIHzzUXI/AAAAAAAAA_8/-J5xSVoQNJU/s1600/day+21+030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLIHzzUXI/AAAAAAAAA_8/-J5xSVoQNJU/s400/day+21+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510236746995159410" /></a><br />Cattle factory farm<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKIfc-VkI/AAAAAAAAA_E/M5OGQqQCXYI/s1600/day+21+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKIfc-VkI/AAAAAAAAA_E/M5OGQqQCXYI/s400/day+21+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235653830235714" /></a><br />Trendy store in Dodge City<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKIEApH-I/AAAAAAAAA-8/TsmODbX5SLk/s1600/day+21+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKIEApH-I/AAAAAAAAA-8/TsmODbX5SLk/s400/day+21+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235646463647714" /></a><br />Dodge City mural<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI88BzP4I/AAAAAAAAA-0/W738q8j1nrE/s1600/day+21+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhI88BzP4I/AAAAAAAAA-0/W738q8j1nrE/s400/day+21+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510234355830833026" /></a><br />Dodge City, downtown<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLGd4e_uI/AAAAAAAAA_k/Nz5IMYSnHVk/s1600/day+21+026.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLGd4e_uI/AAAAAAAAA_k/Nz5IMYSnHVk/s400/day+21+026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510236718560640738" /></a><br />Santa Fe Trail Mountain Route sign<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKKDVxuwI/AAAAAAAAA_c/xtppjKST6DE/s1600/day+21+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKKDVxuwI/AAAAAAAAA_c/xtppjKST6DE/s400/day+21+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235680643595010" /></a><br />The Santa Fe Trail on the big Kansas prairie<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKJtQwkuI/AAAAAAAAA_U/r6z5EaMK7Q4/s1600/day+21+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhKJtQwkuI/AAAAAAAAA_U/r6z5EaMK7Q4/s400/day+21+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510235674716967650" /></a><br />The Trail, can you see the tracks?<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLHWf8bOI/AAAAAAAAA_s/J8H0mVNHRUM/s1600/day+21+023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLHWf8bOI/AAAAAAAAA_s/J8H0mVNHRUM/s400/day+21+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510236733758532834" /></a><br />Behind me it's the Santa Fe Trail<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLHiMoj0I/AAAAAAAAA_0/jb8KOfMgMZQ/s1600/day+21+037.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhLHiMoj0I/AAAAAAAAA_0/jb8KOfMgMZQ/s400/day+21+037.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510236736898764610" /></a><br />3000 km!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhxattvXRI/AAAAAAAABAE/fMW1egV7-Hs/s1600/day+21+027.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THhxattvXRI/AAAAAAAABAE/fMW1egV7-Hs/s400/day+21+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510278847849782546" /></a><br />Western Kansas, the land is arid and dryUnknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-29704431558154737032010-08-26T18:09:00.029-04:002011-10-24T11:52:57.769-04:00DAY 20: There will be blood<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVCqLsOCI/AAAAAAAAA9c/WLwJzuIpVZs/s1600/day+20+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVCqLsOCI/AAAAAAAAA9c/WLwJzuIpVZs/s400/day+20+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509895804538337314" /></a><br /><br />173 km (107 miles) - total: 2842 km (1765 miles)<br /><br />Wichita, Ks to Greensburg, Ks<br /><br />Black blood of the earth has dug a deep scar on the face of humankind. People have been slaughtered, wars have been waged, lies have been told and questions are left unanswered. Hubris, fear, obsession, gain, greed, domination, rage, through these words one can take a journey through the deep dark heart of 20th century America. Kansas oil drills lay solitary, quiet, innocent almost guileless in their simplicity, surreal in these surroundings but undeniable. The image of these oscillating black pumps that swing under the sun is strange and disquieting. And the black blood that is sucked out from the earth has contaminated the human spirit. What has occurred is tragic and probably inevitable. Humankind has enslaved itself, oil its landlord, to the extent that any dysfunctionality has its own excuses, any excess had its explanation, any murder, any war. Oil has brought about dark times, oil feeds the heart of darkness that it is the heart of our most basic needs so basic that they have become unnoticed. Oil is the once glorious lubricant of commercial triumph and technological innovation, and now it has become the dwindling lifeblood of material prosperity, the unacknowledged driving force of military conflicts, and even the cause of an ecological catastrophe that is here for all to see. <br />This morning I had a typical Monday morning feeling and I found it hard to get out of bed. After yesterday's masterful display of 162 miles (sorry, I do get carried away!) I felt complacent and in no need to hurry. I was on the road very late, 9am but after my accomplishment of a long long ride yesterday, I think I deserved a lie in. I managed to get out of Wichita city belt pretty easily and set my course West praying that the wind would be weak today. I think my prayers have been answered as there was a crosswind from Northeast but it wasn't strong enough to slow me down considerably. I don't want to push my luck but the weather today was superb, sunny, not a spot in the sky and temperatures of 79-84. Just another perfect day to be on the bike. I really cannot believe how lucky I have been with the weather so far. <br /><br />Today, I felt a bit sluggish for the first few miles, my muscles felt slightly stiff but after the first 20 miles I warmed up nicely and began to go through my pedal strokes with ease. The terrain was mostly flat, however, I have noticed a minimal but steady incline. I checked the numbers and I was right. I went from 1305 feet, Wichita to the elevation of 2234ft of Greensburg. I climbed almost a 1000ft within 100 miles, which is nothing compared to the 1500feet over 4 miles back in the Appalachians! <br /><br />Tonight I am staying in Greensburg, a small village of less than 2000 souls. I checked into the only inn in town. Greensburg has a sad history as it was struck by a EF5 tornado on May 4, 2007, which leveled 95% of the buildings. In the aftermath the city council issued a resolution stating that all city buildings would be built to LEED-platinum standards, making it the first city in the nation to do so. Greensburg has been rebuilt with the support of an ngo that works to create green initiatives. It's really impressive how far the city has come since then, although I must admit that the entire place still looks like a giant construction site and the buildings that have been completed still have the "wrapping paper" feel about them. During my last 20 miles or so I had seen signs advertising that not only was Greensburg home to the worlds largest hand-dug well, but it also exhibited a 1000-pound pallasite meteorite thought to have impacted earth about 20,000 years ago. However, after the severe devastation caused by the tornado, the meteorite was moved to Wichita. <br /><br />The ride was monotonous as the road and the scenery were pretty similar from start to finish. It has been a steady ride with a few stops along the way. After the hard ride yesterday I thought my legs would be in trouble but I must say that I felt pretty good. The uneventful ride gave me plenty of time to think and to admire the simple scenery around me. This part of Kansas has an indefinable quality about it. The amount of space is staggering, the only thing that stops you from seeing further is the curve of the horizon. The horizon itself is the limit, nothing else. And the sky above is also limitless, and at times, cycling these long flat roads you are befuddled by the immensity and the simplicity of the spaces. Kansas is epic in its simplicity. Its lines are clean and uncluttered. Land and sky. That's it. Only a handful of colors - yellow, blue, green and sometimes red. Nothing hems you in, no barriers, no hurdles, no walls, just endless horizon. Kansas is far from boring and there is something about it that just puts you in a good mood.<br /><br />---------------------- <br />Dedico la tappa di oggi agli Alessandri che festaggiano il primo anniversario di matrimonio, auguri di cuore! <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS9O8h8UI/AAAAAAAAA80/fKE5PGnt6mc/s1600/day+20+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS9O8h8UI/AAAAAAAAA80/fKE5PGnt6mc/s400/day+20+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509893512304390466" /></a><br />Green Flint hills of Kansas<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS-87UoEI/AAAAAAAAA9U/lPk-hBoV1iE/s1600/day+20+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS-87UoEI/AAAAAAAAA9U/lPk-hBoV1iE/s400/day+20+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509893541827223618" /></a><br />Kansas field<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS-r7zv6I/AAAAAAAAA9M/q7n9K0VJryc/s1600/day+20+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS-r7zv6I/AAAAAAAAA9M/q7n9K0VJryc/s400/day+20+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509893537265860514" /></a><br />The horizon flickers under the Kansas sun<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS-C8m8xI/AAAAAAAAA9E/aDJ6BYqdcR0/s1600/day+20+007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS-C8m8xI/AAAAAAAAA9E/aDJ6BYqdcR0/s400/day+20+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509893526263362322" /></a><br />At a cattle auction in Pratt, Ks<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcbQxP5zPI/AAAAAAAAA-M/GXmkr65Liq4/s1600/day+20+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcbQxP5zPI/AAAAAAAAA-M/GXmkr65Liq4/s400/day+20+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509902644022988018" /></a><br />Cattle auction<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcZX_bCrAI/AAAAAAAAA-E/54zeNh8ycyM/s1600/day+20+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcZX_bCrAI/AAAAAAAAA-E/54zeNh8ycyM/s400/day+20+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509900569063631874" /></a><br />3 men out of 4 here wear jeans, cowboy boots and the famous hat!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS9nNPh4I/AAAAAAAAA88/ck_N1PaHb2U/s1600/day+20+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcS9nNPh4I/AAAAAAAAA88/ck_N1PaHb2U/s400/day+20+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509893518816937858" /></a><br />Lonely road<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVEKLDjvI/AAAAAAAAA98/_C972wOLDFQ/s1600/day+20+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVEKLDjvI/AAAAAAAAA98/_C972wOLDFQ/s400/day+20+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509895830305476338" /></a><br />Another oil drill, I must have seen at least 20 of these today<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVD44CU1I/AAAAAAAAA90/_oOz0U3tvt8/s1600/day+20+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVD44CU1I/AAAAAAAAA90/_oOz0U3tvt8/s400/day+20+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509895825662301010" /></a><br />Side street, Greensburg<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVDuf-bEI/AAAAAAAAA9s/7MGiqCG4dSg/s1600/day+20+025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVDuf-bEI/AAAAAAAAA9s/7MGiqCG4dSg/s400/day+20+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509895822877027394" /></a><br />Greensburg, recently rebuilt downtown<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVDMGUm5I/AAAAAAAAA9k/uDFur4IgahU/s1600/day+20+024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THcVDMGUm5I/AAAAAAAAA9k/uDFur4IgahU/s400/day+20+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509895813642623890" /></a><br />Not much has been spared by the tornado, what's left of a gas station in GreensburgUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-74411030916626010762010-08-25T19:46:00.029-04:002011-10-24T11:52:20.689-04:00DAY 19: Catch me if you can261 km (162 miles) - total: 2669 km (1658 miles)<br /><br />Pittsburg, Ks to Wichita, Ks<br /><br />That's right, you're reading right: 261 km, 162 miles, in one day. <br />My legs got me this far: Wichita, right in the middle of America.<br /><br />I set off this morning with one goal and one goal only, to get to Wichita. I spent last night analyzing the map and it turned out that I had two options if I wanted to hit a hotel-serviced town: either a short day or an almost impossibly long one. Honestly, I didn't think I could make it, I have never pushed myself on a bicycle to this extent and given the unpredictability of weather conditions, it was really up to the Gods of wind to decide. I set my sights on Fredonia, a mere 110km saunter from Pittsburg. If the winds were favorable or absent I knew I could do better. Determined to challenge myself, I was up at 6 and I gorged myself on cereals, pancakes and other snacks and was duly on the road by 7.10. The morning air was pretty chilly and for once I could not wait for the sun to come out. Surrounded by wheat and corn fields I pushed hard, really hard, like never before in this trip. The road was flat and traffic-free. What surprised me is that I felt in superb shape and clocked 100km in just over 3 hours. I got to Fredonia at 11.30 and by 11.15 I had already done 100km. I felt like never before in perfect physical condition and with the 11mph wind blowing from north, north east, while still causing some trouble, it was much more rideable than yesterday. By noon the road took a slight incline and my swift ride slowed considerably. However, I took advantage of the other long sections of flat terrain, a large highway and lots of motivation to challenge myself and I flew on my bike Wichita-bound hitting 200km by 4pm. By that time I knew I was gonna get to Wichita and could not wait to see the city sign. It is pretty much accepted as a fact that Kansas is flat and it didn't disappoint today, although some of the locals seem really proud of their 'mountains' aka 'The Flint Hills'. I was cycling through these today, and they barely registered after some of the grades I had to deal with in the east. I am reliably informed (by Wikipedia) in fact that most scientists rank Kansas somewhere between 20th and 30th flattest state. Actually, I didn't think Kansas would be as green as it is. One would associate the color yellow with Kansas and while the endless crop fields seem to be the prevailing image of Kansas, the area I passed through today was dedicated to cattle, with herds far bigger than any I have seen so far grazing on very lush and plentiful fields. I cannot fully describe the pastoral beauty of the Mid-west states, I am so glad I have seen it.<br /><br />Before entering the intricate and noisy Wichita city belt, and after the landmark of 250km, I briefly stopped in Augusta, located on the shores of the Walnut river, a place once inhabited by large numbers of Native American groups. I took a stroll through the tiny historic downtown and wanted to keep going. The weather was absolutely perfect, as it has been all day, not a cloud in the sky and temperatures of about 84-88. When I reached the outskirts of Wichita I was immediately engulfed by traffic. I turned North and went through the downtown streets to take a look at the Air Capital of the World (Wichita is one of the world's most important centers for the manufacture of aircraft, all the major companies have been or are located here). The downtown area is very pleasant as much as the Old Town, a charming historic warehouse district with early 20th-century buildings and brick streets. I rode through the entire town and it took me at least one hour to get from the East side, a very green and pleasant residential area, all the way to the West side. It was a slow ride and I met another cyclist, Troy, who kindly gave valuable info about the town. After more weaving though traffic and traffic lights at about 6.30pm, which meant that I have been riding for almost 12 hours today, a record for me! I finally checked into a hotel, Hampton Inn on the west outskirts of Wichita, and had a most needed shower. <br /><br />Wichita is the largest city on my trip and after long days of riding in the country through hills and mountains and small towns, today walking through a proper size city felt different and slightly uncomfortable. Central Wichita is laid out in a grid pattern. This town has seen its neighborhoods, like the historic Delano district, go through a see-saw history, through recessions and economic booms. The oil boom generated an explosion of buildings development which lasted until the depression era. I liked the Delano district, a colorful area rich in history and cultural significance. I wish I could write more about Wichita but I cannot think properly and need some food real bad. Today while I was pushing hard on those pedals I said to myself that if I made it Wichita tonight I would treat myself to my favorite dinner: two large pizzas!<br /><br />Tonight I am pretty exhausted but extremely pleased with myself, 260 km in one day, first and surely last time I accomplish such a feat in my life! I will take it easy tomorrow. After the big city it's time for the broad expanses of grassland and corn fields of Kansas, standing tall against the wind and poised to face the American bison.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6gsq1OdI/AAAAAAAAA78/iQbo-PmICY8/s1600/day+19+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6gsq1OdI/AAAAAAAAA78/iQbo-PmICY8/s400/day+19+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509514790067059154" /></a><br />Girard at 7.45am, another ghost town<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7I9o7ggI/AAAAAAAAA8s/QSSlKKenMlI/s1600/day+19+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7I9o7ggI/AAAAAAAAA8s/QSSlKKenMlI/s400/day+19+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509515481817252354" /></a><br />Kansas boasts many wind turbines<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6fpV1xHI/AAAAAAAAA7k/-hoV3l1QN10/s1600/day+19+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6fpV1xHI/AAAAAAAAA7k/-hoV3l1QN10/s400/day+19+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509514771993838706" /></a><br />Highway 47, as empty as it gets<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7HTqg52I/AAAAAAAAA8M/vDsE1vB5xe8/s1600/day+19+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7HTqg52I/AAAAAAAAA8M/vDsE1vB5xe8/s400/day+19+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509515453369739106" /></a><br />Pit stop, this self taken picture didn't work very well<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6hHe8s2I/AAAAAAAAA8E/wc9THPFz8h0/s1600/day+19+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6hHe8s2I/AAAAAAAAA8E/wc9THPFz8h0/s400/day+19+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509514797264974690" /></a><br />Route 400, my lifeline today<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6gXwVvoI/AAAAAAAAA70/GbnLJf4pU0M/s1600/day+19+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6gXwVvoI/AAAAAAAAA70/GbnLJf4pU0M/s400/day+19+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509514784453017218" /></a><br />Kansas barn. I have a thing for barns!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6gBTnfAI/AAAAAAAAA7s/bNdqmtoiEmw/s1600/day+19+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW6gBTnfAI/AAAAAAAAA7s/bNdqmtoiEmw/s400/day+19+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509514778426964994" /></a><br />My ride was briefly paused because of a passing freight train<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7HsvD6RI/AAAAAAAAA8U/yEVtFY-PnVg/s1600/day+19+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7HsvD6RI/AAAAAAAAA8U/yEVtFY-PnVg/s400/day+19+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509515460099696914" /></a><br />200kms by 3.39pm, not bad for a rookie<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7Iek4LmI/AAAAAAAAA8k/Izk8WW0ijyk/s1600/day+19+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7Iek4LmI/AAAAAAAAA8k/Izk8WW0ijyk/s400/day+19+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509515473478757986" /></a><br />Augusta, charming downtown district<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7INN3PBI/AAAAAAAAA8c/qrLx-ixMDdY/s1600/day+19+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THW7INN3PBI/AAAAAAAAA8c/qrLx-ixMDdY/s400/day+19+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509515468818824210" /></a><br />Arkansas river, downtown WichitaUnknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-45153136859128152342010-08-24T18:23:00.025-04:002011-10-24T11:51:45.613-04:00DAY 18: KANSAS!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRbKfRl-RI/AAAAAAAAA7c/dIthSQv1H8s/s1600/day+18+030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRbKfRl-RI/AAAAAAAAA7c/dIthSQv1H8s/s400/day+18+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509128479933069586" /></a><br /><br />188 km (116 miles) - total: 2408 km (1496 miles)<br /><br />Marshfield, Mo to Pittsburg, Ks<br /><br />Dorothy says: "A place where there isn't any trouble. Do you suppose there is such a place, Toto? There must be. It's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It's far, far away". <br />What a day! The longest distance covered and I entered Kansas! <br /><br />Today has been a day of two halves. I left the hotel at 7.30 feeling psyched for the flat open spaces which I assumed were within reach but clearly I was wrong. No sooner did I leave town than I was back in the rollers and for the first 100 km it was all hills. Just when I thought I had dealt the fatal blow to the Ozarks, here they came charging back with a vengeance with some short but steep grades. A lot of slow, hard work this morning, again I don't think I saw flat terrain for several hours. I worked hard to put some miles in early on, passing three ghost towns with very brief stops just to sip water while I had my first taste of solid food since breakfast, power bar, fruits and ice-cream, after 80 km. The best meal of the day (I have several) is actually not breakfast but the 'second breakfast' which takes place at around midmorning when the food eaten earlier has already being burnt and real 'cyclist starvation' sets in. At that point I can eat anything; I am a sort of garbage can that absorbs all sorts and tastes. It is the most satisfying meal of the day. After dinner that is! Well actually I think all the meals are satisfying so forget what I just said! Just before reaching Golden City, at a crest of a hill (which turned out to be the very last steep hill of Missouri) I bumped into a cyclist going East, Lindsay Petrie from Scotland. Two Europeans meeting on the US cross-country bike trail! We chatted briefly, exchanging pointers going into our respective cardinal points, as for Kansas he said to watch out for the winds and of course I mentioned the hills both of the Ozarks and later on of the Appalachians. I could not believe when I saw attached to the underside of the down tube of his bicycle a bottle of wine!! Yeah, he is Scottish all right!! I gave him the link to the blog so Lindsay if you have made it to the Ocean and are reading this give me a shout!<br /><br />I continued with my journey, realizing to my delight that the terrain was getting flatter and wider with huge crop fields, cattle fields, and sunflower fields all around. After about 105 km of serious cycling I reached the beginning of the Great Plains. However, my joy for this new achievement was quickly overshadowed by the realization that I had a new foe to contend with and just as fierce and unrelenting as the hills: the wind! As soon as the terrain got flat and devoid of hills and trees the wind picked up immediately blowing from the North, slapping my light bicycle over and over again and making my course skewed to the middle of the road. It was really tough going. At one point I turned North bound for 7 km and it was pure hell as even on a slight decline I could not go faster than 22kmph. I turned my bicycle around in the opposite direction just to see what it felt like to have a tailwind and the strength of the wind literally carried me up the hill without me pedaling at all. Unbelievable! Luckily the wind gently subsided but it was still a tough 33-mile ride into Pittsburg. The approaching state limit was a good motivation to pedal hard and I felt pretty good at sighting the Kansas sign. I was keen to find a motel and rest.<br /><br />I am now in my 5th state and I am happy to leave Missouri, just for the hills because other than tough climbing I had a very special time cycling there. I rolled into yet another America small town where the fast life exists only by big Wall-Marts and Mc Donalds. Under the skin of small town America lies the truth, revealing, appalling, frightening where time is divided between soap-operas and supermarkets. However, there is more much more to it, the hicks, the rednecks, the hillbillies and the silent Midwesterners have a way for keeping away from the big fuss and the senseless rattle of elusive, big town America. Pragmatic, balanced, honest, friendly, vibrant, engaging, complex, diverse (economically more than ethnically) are just a few descriptions that spring to mind when I look at the places I have seen. Gosh, I could write a whole book about uncovering the truth of MY America but I really came here for the scenery and after 116 miles I don't want to think so I am gonna rest.<br /><br />Kansas will provide a completely new challenge. Topography and climate will be different. Lots of fields, lots of sky, lots of space, and lots of wind. Population will be sparse, the cities will disappear, only isolated villages show on the map, the roads are flat, long and perfectly straight, traffic will be very light, the wind will blow and the sun will shine, there are not going to be bike shops for the next 700 miles. And there are stretches of road with no services for 35, 50 and 70 miles. Kansas will take stamina and good planning. Let's keep going West! <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM8RX0CCI/AAAAAAAAA58/vzI8aQnUdmM/s1600/day+18+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM8RX0CCI/AAAAAAAAA58/vzI8aQnUdmM/s400/day+18+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112842520102946" /></a><br />Supesized cows<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM7ykaSwI/AAAAAAAAA50/ZkIirs3MGag/s1600/day+18+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM7ykaSwI/AAAAAAAAA50/ZkIirs3MGag/s400/day+18+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112834251442946" /></a><br />It's a busy Tuesday morning in Fair Grove Missouri<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM7SX5OfI/AAAAAAAAA5s/kpZXCxbQugk/s1600/day+18+007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM7SX5OfI/AAAAAAAAA5s/kpZXCxbQugk/s400/day+18+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112825609009650" /></a><br />"What are you looking at?" he's thinking.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM6yunWbI/AAAAAAAAA5k/dxVIs2XoEZY/s1600/day+18+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM6yunWbI/AAAAAAAAA5k/dxVIs2XoEZY/s400/day+18+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112817114372530" /></a><br />More hills before I can even think about Kansas<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM6bG8jMI/AAAAAAAAA5c/vRBnxTjvoWM/s1600/day+18+011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRM6bG8jMI/AAAAAAAAA5c/vRBnxTjvoWM/s400/day+18+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112810773974210" /></a><br />and more!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVvD4YiOI/AAAAAAAAA6k/OmmZKONlIaY/s1600/day+18+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVvD4YiOI/AAAAAAAAA6k/OmmZKONlIaY/s400/day+18+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509122511164967138" /></a><br />What a beautiful specimen<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRbKGHg6iI/AAAAAAAAA7U/9uh1DY1ZWjI/s1600/day+18+028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRbKGHg6iI/AAAAAAAAA7U/9uh1DY1ZWjI/s400/day+18+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509128473179908642" /></a><br />And a scary one!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRZZ-N_yPI/AAAAAAAAA7M/yKaj_8ManU0/s1600/day+18+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRZZ-N_yPI/AAAAAAAAA7M/yKaj_8ManU0/s400/day+18+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509126546914265330" /></a><br />I climbed the last hill and I turned around to say goodbye to the Ozarks<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVtuByaYI/AAAAAAAAA6E/ILXsISCKze8/s1600/day+18+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVtuByaYI/AAAAAAAAA6E/ILXsISCKze8/s400/day+18+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509122488118962562" /></a><br />Lindsay from Scotland! He's been on the road since July 14, good luck mate!<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVu_FYjkI/AAAAAAAAA6c/P9vDWvFEKG4/s1600/day+18+022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVu_FYjkI/AAAAAAAAA6c/P9vDWvFEKG4/s400/day+18+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509122509877317186" /></a><br />Golden City, diner and post office.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVufchj6I/AAAAAAAAA6U/yIQO8U_EpuA/s1600/day+18+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVufchj6I/AAAAAAAAA6U/yIQO8U_EpuA/s400/day+18+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509122501384441762" /></a><br />Super heavy duty farming artillery<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVuFcTOVI/AAAAAAAAA6M/kzNc0eAItyU/s1600/day+18+017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRVuFcTOVI/AAAAAAAAA6M/kzNc0eAItyU/s400/day+18+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509122494404180306" /></a><br />No more hills, it must be Kansas coming up!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRZZS73tZI/AAAAAAAAA7E/uKm3aDgiK1A/s1600/day+18+034.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRZZS73tZI/AAAAAAAAA7E/uKm3aDgiK1A/s400/day+18+034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509126535295514002" /></a><br />Pittsburg downtown<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRZYOMieuI/AAAAAAAAA6s/1WK8-mEfYhA/s1600/day+18+023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THRZYOMieuI/AAAAAAAAA6s/1WK8-mEfYhA/s400/day+18+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509126516843379426" /></a><br />Taking off my rucksack I saw this butterfly on it. My Lady Luck!<em></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-32984661572577859712010-08-23T20:42:00.016-04:002011-10-24T11:51:15.869-04:00DAY 17: America's heartland166 km (103 miles) - total: 2220 km (1379 miles)<br /><br />Salem, Mo to Marshfield, Mo<br /><br />I have put the worst of the hills behind, still a few peaks to conquer tomorrow but soon the Ozarks will be out of the way. It's been a slow grind today with endless hills all the way through which made my ride a real self-propelled rollercoaster. I don't think I have been on flat terrain for more than 200 yards today. It was a bit frustrating and extremely off-putting for the pace as the road was constantly hilly and I had to contend with short but steep grades. Once again I had no pace to settle with, so I had to go with the variation of the terrain. Today has been surely the worst day of all for cycling but maybe, just maybe, I can look forward to some flat roads late tomorrow with Kansas coming up in less than 150 km. While the short but endless climbs took a big toll out of my legs and my spirit, I must admit that the scenery was as pretty as any I have seen so far. The Ozarks hills, dotted with big farms and ranches make for a peaceful setting to ride in. Today, for the most part, it was a pretty solitary ride as I think I was passed by no more than a handful of cars for about 2 hours. It was sunny all the way through but again the temperature didn't hit 90 so it was another, yet again! fantastic day for cycling. <br />I haven't had a chance to mention the number of road kill I have seen so far so I will do it now. There are all sorts of dead beasts pasted all over the road, my list so far includes three armadillos, a deer, cats, dogs, all kinds of lizards, tortoises, squirrels, a good number of snakes, some of them pretty big too, pigs, foxes and many animals that look like long black rats but I know they are not so I have to find out which species they are. US roads are infested with disgusting carrions and the carcasses just lie on the asphalt decaying under the unforgiving sun while they are being emptied by ravenous and menacing vultures plunging from the heights of the sky to feast on the putrid dead animals. I have seen a few vultures quickly dismembering carcasses and fly up just as quickly as soon as I approached the dead body. It was quite a spectacle. I wonder if they would reserve the same treatment for the body of a dead cyclist. A bit of a crazy thought but when you are on the bicycle all the day long, something you are not in short supply of it is time, time to think and to conjure up crazy scenarios. <br /><br />Once again I rode through Amish country today. Missouri's Amish population has been among the fastest-growing nationwide. There are an estimated 5000 Amish in Missouri, they normally migrate in search of more reasonably priced farmland, or to avoid government regulations which conflict with their religious beliefs and it seems that Missouri is a pretty good fix for them. Many Amish communities migrate from the East to find a piece of land where they can live peacefully and undisturbed.<br /><br />Today I focused all my energy on the road and how best to deal with the hills. For most part of the day, the road was narrow and when I was passed by big trucks I was immediately hit by strong gusts of wind which made my day very interesting. This means that I needed full attention to be able to ride next to or on the white line without swerving to the middle of the road or falling into the ditch. This I find it to be the toughest part of this trip: the focus to dodge motored vehicles. You've got to stay mentally focused all the time, you simply cannot drop your guard for a second, You are sharing the road with cars and trucks, which means that cyclists are the lowest class in the system. As for the juggernauts, most of the time I can hear them approaching from a few hundred yards, however, given the high amount of sharp turns and short hills road visibility in Missouri is very limited and most roads, like the one I rode on today, have no shoulders. Once again I must say that traffic here is extremely respectful, actually most cars shoot down the highway in the opposite lane!<br /><br />I had a chance to speak to a few people and they are extremely sociable and curious about what moved me to embark on such a trip. I got asked the question "what are you learning about America?". I tell them that it is far too complex to offer them a short answer but I assure them that the country is so rich in cultures and history and nature that it is a shame that most people focus on the two coasts offhandedly disregarding anything that has to do with the Midwest for instance. Midwest is undeniably the motor of the farming and many other sectors in America. It is the pulse of America, the beating heart that provides fuel and food to the rest of the country. This is the heartland that bleeds and the blood spills unnoticed, gushing forth in pools so deep to drown the cries of the dispossessed and the broken ones. The sun rises and burns bright and violet through the ghost-ranch hills, in the towers of steel like a burning spear! There is so much to learn and admire around here and I know that I am learning only a fraction of what this unique region has to offer. The beauty of cycling this country is to be able to stay close to the real people. Today I spoke to a 23-year old girl, she has 2 kids, of 2 and 4, and she told me that teenage pregnancies are very common in this part of Missouri. I was not surprised given that the United States has the highest rates of t.p. among industrialized countries. <br /><br />I reached Marshfield at about 4pm, having cycled since 7.30 this morning; it wasn't too bad considering the amount of hills I climbed today. I had no doubt that I needed a rest so I quickly checked into a motel. Depending on my fitness and the weather for tomorrow I might take advantage of the flat terrain that Kansas has to offer so I might go the extra mile. I can almost smell the Great Plains from here... <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhLpAgUoI/AAAAAAAAA4E/ZjLGa818ToQ/s1600/day+17+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhLpAgUoI/AAAAAAAAA4E/ZjLGa818ToQ/s400/day+17+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508783253074498178" /></a><br />Morning mist on the road<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhOMMk3zI/AAAAAAAAA4k/1IcPAcxZx-E/s1600/day+17+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhOMMk3zI/AAAAAAAAA4k/1IcPAcxZx-E/s400/day+17+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508783296880107314" /></a><br />The road snakes through the forest again<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhMvqou3I/AAAAAAAAA4U/JmprMtQRJb0/s1600/day+17+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhMvqou3I/AAAAAAAAA4U/JmprMtQRJb0/s400/day+17+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508783272041692018" /></a><br />Wild West, a long way ahead<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhMM6WhSI/AAAAAAAAA4M/56Z5NCvkVp0/s1600/day+17+007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhMM6WhSI/AAAAAAAAA4M/56Z5NCvkVp0/s400/day+17+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508783262712366370" /></a><br />Licking Missouri, a ghost town early in the morning<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhN0bNGFI/AAAAAAAAA4c/kT2b8msGlic/s1600/day+17+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMhN0bNGFI/AAAAAAAAA4c/kT2b8msGlic/s400/day+17+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508783290499012690" /></a><br />The Ozarks plateau looking South<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmx9wBfxI/AAAAAAAAA4s/mYVDwiDtCBo/s1600/day+17+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmx9wBfxI/AAAAAAAAA4s/mYVDwiDtCBo/s400/day+17+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508789409035681554" /></a><br />The Ozarks plateau looking East<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMpM1SsqrI/AAAAAAAAA5U/tPX7_A3xSKI/s1600/day+17+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMpM1SsqrI/AAAAAAAAA5U/tPX7_A3xSKI/s400/day+17+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508792069644921522" /></a><br />Missouri barn<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmzDhw1lI/AAAAAAAAA5E/Go6ihSJ8eik/s1600/day+17+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmzDhw1lI/AAAAAAAAA5E/Go6ihSJ8eik/s400/day+17+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508789427766351442" /></a><br />Noted!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmzvEj9_I/AAAAAAAAA5M/BY1WjH3zZsk/s1600/day+17+025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmzvEj9_I/AAAAAAAAA5M/BY1WjH3zZsk/s400/day+17+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508789439455033330" /></a><br />Missouri Amish<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmyVKsLnI/AAAAAAAAA40/5h020Q8eFW4/s1600/day+17+030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmyVKsLnI/AAAAAAAAA40/5h020Q8eFW4/s400/day+17+030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508789415321546354" /></a><br />Marshfield, Mo gateway to the Ozarks<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmy0_FQ6I/AAAAAAAAA48/Ff2JQzEkkLE/s1600/day+17+031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THMmy0_FQ6I/AAAAAAAAA48/Ff2JQzEkkLE/s400/day+17+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508789423862793122" /></a><br />Downtown MarshfieldUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-61807583151685590402010-08-22T15:28:00.031-04:002011-10-24T11:50:43.458-04:00DAY 16: Through the Mark Twain National Forest128 km (80 miles) - total: 2054 km (1276 miles)<br /><br />Farmington, Mo to Salem, Mo<br /><br />Great weather, yet again, for my 80-mile ride today. This morning I was itching after a day of total sluggishness. Even though I am fully aware that rest will do me good I don't particularly enjoy the feeling of not making progress. Speaking of which, I made incredibly good progress for the first part of the day, having covered 100 km by 12. I reached Salem, my final destination at 2 pm and I was seriously tempted to go on but considering that I am only a few days away from the biggest challenge, the Rockies, I figured I need to plan this wisely and make sure that I have plenty of gas left in the tank!<br />Today I deviated again from the ACA official route, both to keep on going West on a straight line, which I partly did, and to cycle through the scenic Mark Twain National Forest. I followed route 32 all the way from outside Farmington to Salem. As I left town this morning at 8.15 I bumped into a cyclist doing a 30-mile loop around the St. Joe State Park and of course he enquired about my trip. He was very impressed with the amount of miles I put in every day especially considering the weight I carry on my shoulders and said he was very jealous of my trip. I later met another cyclist in the park and we had the same type of conversation. I notice that people are now beginning to comment on how far I have come instead of reminding me that I have a lot to go, which happened in the first week of my trip. This is definitely another encouraging sign of progress.<br /><br />The ride through the forest was well worth the deviation from the ACA route and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The Mark Twain National Forest is huge, there are over 700 miles of trails and 40 miles of water trails. There are several things to see here, like the Greer Spring, which is the largest spring in the Midwest pumping about 220 millions of gallons of water per day. I saw a sign pointing the way to the spring but of course I didn't have time to wander off. The few houses in the park are all far-flung and there is only one grocery store in the whole forest. To provide for my drinking needs I made sure that I had plenty of liquids in my backpack which added a bit of extra weight on my rough shoulders! During my ride, I spotted pine trees, oak trees and several other types of trees which I don't know. I have learnt that the forest, located in the Missouri Ozarks, is home to 650 native wildlife species. The Ozarks are actually the US oldest mountains although they are often referred to as plateau. They don't feel like a plateau to me when I am cycling!!! Anyway, geologists consider the Ozarks range to be one of the oldest in the world, these are deeply eroded hills sculpted by rivers and the wind and are the only rugged area between the Appalachians and the Rocky mountains (and thank God for that!). What is even more fascinating about these rounded mountains is the history of the people that first settled here. They used to live, and to some degree still live, in isolation from other regions of the country and very much set in their old culture. The major tides of immigration that swept through the Midwest on the way to the Great Plains in the 1800s passed through here but only a handful remained. For almost a century they lived willfully isolated and relied on hunting with very little economic exchange activities with the East or the South. To add to the difficult scenario, the civil war in Missouri was brutal and run mostly by guerrilla bands which looted and ransacked at will. The sinewy history of this region made people around here resilient and slightly restrained but very courteous nonetheless. Overall, I am thoroughly enjoying Missouri. Even though the cities I stop in are infested with big eatery chains, under the westernized surface there is a general feeling of calm and well-protected remoteness.<br /><br />About halfway through the forest, I stopped at the Grocery store in Bixby for a bite to eat and I chatted with the owner. Bixby is not even an hamlet, it is simply a collection of houses in the middle of nowhere. The lady told me that this place is the only pit stop within miles and their customers are all bikers (motorcycle riders) and tourists that visit the Forest as the village of Bixby with a population of 24 does not provide enough beef for their business. On my way out I ran into a group of bikers from St. Louis, 15 men and two girls! I chatted for a few minutes with one of the girls and she told me that they usually take to the road during week ends and ride around the beautiful roads of Missouri. These guys look very tough, they all wear leather pants and dark t-shirts and bandanas and look menacing but once you start talking with them you realize that they are very friendly and talkative. They may share a passion for riding the motorcycle but, as she told me, it is a far cry from all the clichés related to the easy-riders type of life characterized by the Dennis Hopper's 1969 movie. The motorcycle lady's name was Anne, she told me that the best time of the year to visit the forest is in mid-October to admire the foliage's unique fall rainbow of colors. I later read that the variety of colors in this region is pretty incredible, it includes oaks, sweet gum, sugar maple, sycamore, witch hazel (had no idea what it was!), elm, and other hardwood trees variations. The forest is considered one of the top five best places to see Fall color in United States.<br /><br />For the last 20 miles or so the road abandoned the ridgeline of the park and I had to deal with some interesting hills. It must have been the full day of rest but I have to report that I got the best of them in pretty good fashion, standing on my pedals with little effort almost enjoying the challenge. My back has completely adjusted to the weight and shape of my rucksack. I felt in great spirits having just cycled through such a beautiful forest in very mild climate! I rolled into Salem with plenty of light, energy and miles to spare for the day but, as I said, I will give my legs and the bike a rest before things get serious out here. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRkVWVaVI/AAAAAAAAA2k/ihpKvKbuea8/s1600/day+16+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRkVWVaVI/AAAAAAAAA2k/ihpKvKbuea8/s400/day+16+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508343872642967890" /></a><br />The bike trail out of Farmington<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRlhLZtWI/AAAAAAAAA28/xpOhnrtcjyc/s1600/day+16+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRlhLZtWI/AAAAAAAAA28/xpOhnrtcjyc/s400/day+16+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508343892998206818" /></a><br />Flat terrain but just briefly<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRlLbsGMI/AAAAAAAAA20/XY16xayJSmw/s1600/day+16+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRlLbsGMI/AAAAAAAAA20/XY16xayJSmw/s400/day+16+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508343887160940738" /></a><br />Route 32, my baby today<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRmHaY-_I/AAAAAAAAA3E/_KA0fXenepw/s1600/day+16+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRmHaY-_I/AAAAAAAAA3E/_KA0fXenepw/s400/day+16+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508343903261621234" /></a><br />2000 km!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTwgPjEKI/AAAAAAAAA3M/LkoQESH5ShQ/s1600/day+16+007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTwgPjEKI/AAAAAAAAA3M/LkoQESH5ShQ/s400/day+16+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508346280748978338" /></a><br />Entering the Forest<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGUpHOULhI/AAAAAAAAA38/hvdke0ggwIw/s1600/day+16+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGUpHOULhI/AAAAAAAAA38/hvdke0ggwIw/s400/day+16+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508347253285465618" /></a><br />The road through the Forest<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTxQkUlZI/AAAAAAAAA3c/JoT8YwuY5c0/s1600/day+16+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTxQkUlZI/AAAAAAAAA3c/JoT8YwuY5c0/s400/day+16+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508346293721011602" /></a><br />All is well! Pine trees behind me<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTx7hQylI/AAAAAAAAA3k/dfTqyOIXsSU/s1600/day+16+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTx7hQylI/AAAAAAAAA3k/dfTqyOIXsSU/s400/day+16+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508346305250904658" /></a><br />The store at Bixby<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTyOmX5FI/AAAAAAAAA3s/ANPN6TEpnLU/s1600/day+16+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGTyOmX5FI/AAAAAAAAA3s/ANPN6TEpnLU/s400/day+16+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508346310372615250" /></a><br />The group of riders outside the store<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRkkxHlhI/AAAAAAAAA2s/VMdzU21Mfhs/s1600/day+16+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGRkkxHlhI/AAAAAAAAA2s/VMdzU21Mfhs/s400/day+16+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508343876781839890" /></a><br />It is lonely on the road<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGUopoAWBI/AAAAAAAAA30/Km7OKulqzQE/s1600/day+16+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/THGUopoAWBI/AAAAAAAAA30/Km7OKulqzQE/s400/day+16+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508347245340153874" /></a><br />Just before reaching SalemUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-6828657184544977102010-08-21T09:39:00.007-04:002011-10-24T11:50:07.404-04:00DAY 15: Rest dayUrged by a gloomy weather forecast and heavy legs I have decided to take a day off today. Activities involving sleeping, eating, more sleeping and more eating have all filled my day. Also some good old day time trash tv does not hurt once in a while. Back on the road tomorrow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-49551161416928802482010-08-20T18:16:00.027-04:002011-10-24T11:49:46.119-04:00DAY 14: MISSOURI!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TFoOddxI/AAAAAAAAA1c/u_cwnR8Fquc/s1600/day+14+025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TFoOddxI/AAAAAAAAA1c/u_cwnR8Fquc/s400/day+14+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507641856715749138" /></a><br /><br />157 km (98 miles) - total: 1926 km (1196 miles)<br /><br />Carbondale Il, to Farmington, Mo<br /><br />Today will always be the day when I crossed the Mississippi river on my bicycle. It will also be the day when I entered Missouri and also the day I visited Chester, the hometown of cartoon character and hero Popeye! And, as a footnote, I will remember this day for being a very tough one indeed up and down the Ozarks hills.<br />It started with a perfectly easy ride from Carbondale all the way to Chester, the last town on the Illinois side. Once again I found myself riding through beautiful open countryside, very similar to the kind I saw yesterday. There isn't much variation of scenery in Southern Illinois but that doesn't mean that what you see is repetitive. Far from it actually. Long fields of wheat crops, green farmland, long fences, cattle, horses, trees, corn, tobacco and other crops that I do not know. It is very relaxing for the eye and for the spirit. Fortunately the roads I cycled on weren't much used by cars which made the ride relaxing and silent. This morning, what was even more encouraging was that I was riding on flat terrain and I was making good progress. I was so absorbed in the scenery that I missed my turn and realized only later so I took a deviation to double back and ended up doing 10 extra miles! I reached Chester by 12. This town is a sort of shrine to Popeye, Olive and all the other characters from the cartoon. The town is very small and has a two-street downtown area filled with statues, paintings, graffiti about the celebrated cartoon star. At the western end of town here comes the Mississippi. I took a long look at the bridge over the big river. A long steel construction and underneath it there is the abundant river with trees lining the banks. Just like I imagined it. I saw it once before in New Orleans but that was different. This is open land, there is nowhere to hide here. The river is unprotected, raw, real. I looked at it. The waters were swirling and muddy. And darkened, menacing, heavy, thick, brooding, absorbing.<br /><br />I thought about this great waterway which has been used for commerce and for fighting. Everything came down this river, coal, food, cotton, timber and weapons, lots of 'em. To defeat the Confederate army, to annihilate the natives and to supply bandits and outlaws that made riches in the South and the West. The river is life. Its chant is slow and poignant. It is soulful and passionate just like the music that originated from its shores, the only music that can fully capture loss and love: blues. Its tune is slow but restless, its sound sexy but defeated. The river contains the blood and the sorrow of the conquests that have defined America. In the dead of the night mainly, they navigated upstream slowly and relentlessly, at the cracking of fire woods and by the somber light of candles and fires. From the golden age of the steam boats to the first beat of jazz carried upstream by those who had been slaves. Mark Twain could not get enough of it and wrote adventure stories about life in and along the river. The river flows, rolls, cuts through, divides and connects. Its significance, cultural, historical and financial will never cease to amaze.<br /><br />I felt extremely satisfied with my progress having come this far from the Capital all the way to the shores of the big river. The bridge had a a two-lane narrow road with heavy traffic and lots of coal trucks which made my crossing interesting as vehicles behind me could not pass me. It was also windy so I held tight onto the handle bars the whole time. After the edgy ride on the bridge I was relieved to be in Missouri, the 4th state of my trip. <br /><br />My first 10 miles of Missouri followed this morning's trend - flat and fast. However, soon enough I was conscious that I was pedaling towards hills - which rose immaculately from the farmland ahead of me. These hills proved to be really challenging. A lot of the gradients were steep, making for slow, hard work. I don't think I was psychologically prepared for them either. It felt frustrating to suddenly slow down so much after such a quick morning. About 10 miles before Farmington, to add insult to injury, it began to rain quite heavily. Being in the middle of open farmland and steep hills, there was nowhere to shelter and also considering that it was 4pm I had no choice but to press on. Rule number one: never get stuck in the middle of nowhere when it's dark. Rule number two: always carry enough water with you. I got to Farmington by 5pm, soaked to my core, having cycled almost 100 miles from 8am this morning, making this a very tough day indeed. A hot shower never felt better. While I feel tired, thirsty and hungry I am happy to report that my legs feel surprisingly well. I was thinking of taking a day off tomorrow but, barring bad weather, I might push on and then take a rest the day after tomorrow. I've had a look at the route and I only have two days left of hills before the terrain flattens out to lead into the Plains of Western Missouri and Kansas. And I can't wait! <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TFbtm0oI/AAAAAAAAA1U/Mgw-kUSZiw8/s1600/day+14+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TFbtm0oI/AAAAAAAAA1U/Mgw-kUSZiw8/s400/day+14+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507641853356724866" /></a><br />Illinois farm<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TEuyDzJI/AAAAAAAAA1M/2dIZZEM81R8/s1600/day+14+010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TEuyDzJI/AAAAAAAAA1M/2dIZZEM81R8/s400/day+14+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507641841295805586" /></a><br />Hillbilly land!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TEIxR9pI/AAAAAAAAA1E/PforaU3yDrw/s1600/day+14+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TEIxR9pI/AAAAAAAAA1E/PforaU3yDrw/s400/day+14+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507641831091992210" /></a><br />It was nice to see one of those again, I hadn't seen a bike route sign since Virginia<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TDuMErMI/AAAAAAAAA08/xbHaYu0Xa8A/s1600/day+14+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8TDuMErMI/AAAAAAAAA08/xbHaYu0Xa8A/s400/day+14+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507641823956610242" /></a><br />Flat terrain finally! Not for long though...<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UIAiGNQI/AAAAAAAAA1k/niIPBe1m58c/s1600/day+14+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UIAiGNQI/AAAAAAAAA1k/niIPBe1m58c/s400/day+14+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507642997111928066" /></a><br />Chester, home to Popeye<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UI1qqSII/AAAAAAAAA1s/OPvWn-YvDlc/s1600/day+14+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UI1qqSII/AAAAAAAAA1s/OPvWn-YvDlc/s400/day+14+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643011374925954" /></a><br />Popeye statue<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UKgcs8QI/AAAAAAAAA2E/5QyC9yhS538/s1600/day+14+018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UKgcs8QI/AAAAAAAAA2E/5QyC9yhS538/s400/day+14+018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643040038973698" /></a><br />Here it is! Check out the narrow lanes and the big truck on it!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UJg9sDVI/AAAAAAAAA10/9FCQoyG4XAw/s1600/day+14+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UJg9sDVI/AAAAAAAAA10/9FCQoyG4XAw/s400/day+14+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643022997458258" /></a><br />Chester bridge over Miss.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UKBIjplI/AAAAAAAAA18/QYhrXNf4uK0/s1600/day+14+023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UKBIjplI/AAAAAAAAA18/QYhrXNf4uK0/s400/day+14+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643031632979538" /></a><br />LL and Miss.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UzEXW-rI/AAAAAAAAA2M/QCMVeIELGnM/s1600/day+14+026.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8UzEXW-rI/AAAAAAAAA2M/QCMVeIELGnM/s400/day+14+026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643736875006642" /></a><br />Mississippi floodplains<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8Uz3opAUI/AAAAAAAAA2U/rf8EX0zUWgk/s1600/day+14+027.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8Uz3opAUI/AAAAAAAAA2U/rf8EX0zUWgk/s400/day+14+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643750637699394" /></a><br />From the hills I turn around to take one last shot of the Mississippi floodplains in the distance. These hills were incredibly steep!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8U0cbC-aI/AAAAAAAAA2c/yx9X_va5OyM/s1600/day+14+028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG8U0cbC-aI/AAAAAAAAA2c/yx9X_va5OyM/s400/day+14+028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507643760512792994" /></a><br />Missouri OzarksUnknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-6477374770580337772010-08-19T18:55:00.028-04:002011-10-24T11:49:17.195-04:00DAY 13: The capital of Southern Illinois122 km (75 miles) - total: 1769 km (1099 miles)<br /><br />Elizabethtown, Il to Carbondale, Il<br /><br />The day started unusually late, I was on the road at 9.15 with a bright and sunny sky. Despite the late start and due to the short distance to cover, today's ride was history just before 4pm. Another perfect day for cycling. I didn't want it to end. No clouds in a perfectly sun-lit sky, a gentle breeze and great temperature only pushing high 80s. I think probably the best day I've had weather-wise and it was a shame that it was also the shortest day in terms of distance. But I had to hit the town to reach the bicycle shop for a tune-up. The people at the store suggested that I installed a new chain, as the current chain was slightly worn out, and so I did. They also changed the brake pads, they were still okay and would have easily survived another 1000 miles, they fixed the derailleur and aligned the front wheel which was a tad out of whack. I haven't had any major problems so far so I was rightly skeptical when they run through the bill (120 bucks). They must have thought 'here's another city slicker, let's suck some money out of him'. I was actually warned by the cyclist I run into yesterday about the high competition between bicycle shops in Carbondale. However, I have to admit that after the hefty facelift once I got the bike on the road it felt substantially better than before. The motion through the pedals was smooth and easy and my clip shoes would unhook with a gentle motion instead of the usual fierce tug. It was a joy to ride again. The guys told me to have another tune-up in about 1000 miles, that happens to be just before I hit the Rockies...if I get there...I will.<br />I had a phenomenally huge breakfast, which understandably delayed my departure, the lady could only serve it at 8.30 and the food was all fresh and cooked on the spot. Hamburger, eggs, grit, pancakes, cheese, homemade jam and bread were all laid on the table and mine for the taking. I stuffed myself and I must have been at least three pounds heavier on the bike this morning! I was starving but cycling on a stuffed stomach is not ideal! However, it didn't take long to sweat it all off as I was back in the hills and some pretty short and mean climbs. But I greatly enjoyed the ride today, most of it on country roads and through the Shawnee National Forest, an ideal place for many outdoor activities out in the wilderness. This is a peaceful leafy park dotted with oak trees.<br /><br />In Goreville, my halfpoint for the day, there was a restaurant where all the cyclists stop and sign a book, which I discovered later on. The place had a nice 'cyclists welcome' sign in front but I didn't go in because I was hurrying up to Carbondale to get to the bike shop on time. I wish I had stopped and signed the book!! <br /><br />Despite the frequent hills, I still made great progress through some awesome farmland. Illinois is part of the 'Midwestern Corn Belt' and is among the leading states in agriculture. Like everything in America the farms are supersized - I often ended up cycling for a couple of miles through the same field, undivided by hedgerows or buildings! I also saw a high number of horses behind fences but quite close to the road. Every time I stopped they didn't seem to be afraid and while they munched on grass they came close to the fence and I could almost touch them. In the deafening silence of the road, under the sun, on a long country lane with a few occasional cars passing by, standing so close to a horse is a truly emotional experience. <br /><br />In the afternoon I rode through Takoma Lake and Little Grassy Lake. The route was very scenic, I wish I could have had more time to just wander at will through the park. The waters so calm and fresh tempted me but I soon found out that swimming was not allowed. After a quick detour I hurried back to the road as I was concerned that the bike shop would close before I got there. I reached Carbondale by 4 and while the bike was being repaired I took a stroll downtown. While there isn't much to see in the city itself, Carbondale has an interesting history. Recently, it had a role in political activism. During the Vietnam war there were many anti-war demonstrations on the campus of the famous Southern Illinois University. I passed by the entrance to the campus on my way into town. <br /><br />My brief stint in Illinois will end tomorrow as, if everything goes to plan, I will be crossing the Mississippi river to enter Missouri, the forth state of my trip! I cannot believe I am already crossing the big river! I am now assessing the route as I want to get to Kansas refreshed and ready for the big heat of the Great Plains. That's gonna hurt! <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LfagBy_I/AAAAAAAAA0E/RmvJ0QNhVbA/s1600/day+13+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LfagBy_I/AAAAAAAAA0E/RmvJ0QNhVbA/s400/day+13+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507281659894025202" /></a><br />Illinois fields with Shawnee Forest in the back<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LgR5yLEI/AAAAAAAAA0M/TC2091FTxp4/s1600/day+13+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LgR5yLEI/AAAAAAAAA0M/TC2091FTxp4/s400/day+13+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507281674766003266" /></a><br />The road through the forest<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3OSaN3EdI/AAAAAAAAA00/pyoxwWOCqYc/s1600/day+13+013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3OSaN3EdI/AAAAAAAAA00/pyoxwWOCqYc/s400/day+13+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507284735014408658" /></a><br />Equine sale<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J6Lxl_uI/AAAAAAAAAz0/ctnJlLfBY-4/s1600/day+13+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J6Lxl_uI/AAAAAAAAAz0/ctnJlLfBY-4/s400/day+13+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507279920774381282" /></a><br />A steep descent coming up<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J5uJFRCI/AAAAAAAAAzs/TmhqVp7qoiQ/s1600/day+13+006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J5uJFRCI/AAAAAAAAAzs/TmhqVp7qoiQ/s400/day+13+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507279912819835938" /></a><br />And a big hill coming up<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J5HaIGFI/AAAAAAAAAzk/PpSsqRDbRmA/s1600/day+13+009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J5HaIGFI/AAAAAAAAAzk/PpSsqRDbRmA/s400/day+13+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507279902422341714" /></a><br />Looking at me<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J6hrF1yI/AAAAAAAAAz8/JoQDSPQNMFk/s1600/day+13+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3J6hrF1yI/AAAAAAAAAz8/JoQDSPQNMFk/s400/day+13+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507279926652688162" /></a><br />want a cuddle?<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3Lh5_TVhI/AAAAAAAAA0c/CEAJuQdK7OQ/s1600/day+13+012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3Lh5_TVhI/AAAAAAAAA0c/CEAJuQdK7OQ/s400/day+13+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507281702706435602" /></a><br />Illinois rollers, a nightmare for cyclists!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LhSDaIqI/AAAAAAAAA0U/hEnzndZu1Jo/s1600/day+13+011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LhSDaIqI/AAAAAAAAA0U/hEnzndZu1Jo/s400/day+13+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507281691986240162" /></a><br />The cyclist-friendly restaurant in Goreville <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LiQp690I/AAAAAAAAA0k/VqCbKIWDQJk/s1600/day+13+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TG3LiQp690I/AAAAAAAAA0k/VqCbKIWDQJk/s400/day+13+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507281708790773570" /></a><br />The bike being looked afterUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-43664941305802790632010-08-18T17:13:00.022-04:002011-10-24T11:48:39.632-04:00DAY 12: ILLINOIS!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFEw3h4HI/AAAAAAAAAzU/P15bQYE3_XQ/s1600/day+12+021.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506922761251053682" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFEw3h4HI/AAAAAAAAAzU/P15bQYE3_XQ/s400/day+12+021.JPG" /></a><br /><br />149 km (92 miles) - total: 1647 km (1023 miles)<br /><br />Central City, Ky to Elizabethtown, Il<br /><br />South Illinois. This is simply the beginning of the American frontier. To the North the Great Lakes, to the West the Great Plains all the way to the Rockies, to the East the Appalachians. History was decided by the settlers, the adventurers, the pioneers, the outlaws that came. Some settled others went farther West. Their travels shaped this country for ever. Whatever they brought with them would make the wild west a lure to many generations of gold-searchers and broken drifters. Still early to get into all that...I still have a bit to go before I hit the 'Old West' but I am sure that the winds will take me there. The frontier is still there to be seen...<br />And another State is in the bag after having just passed the 1000-mile mark. But it wasn't all plain sailing today as I was back in the 'rollers'. I don't think I have cycled on a flat stretch that was longer than 300 yards today, not a single one, it was just insane! I was spoilt by yesterday's ride and this morning I left at 8am in no particular hurry. However, I soon realized the challenges ahead. It was disheartening, up and down again, as soon as I crested a hill I could see the next one waiting for me. I can say goodbye to flat terrains as I have the Illinois and Missouri Ozarks to deal with before I can ride on flat ground again, and that is gonna be in Kansas. I finished my day at around 4pm staying in Elizabethtown, a pretty little hamlet along the Ohio river in Illinois. Rose hotel, historic building of 1812 is my home tonight.<br /><br />This area was originally a stronghold for outlaws including the bandit Logan Belt, Philip Alston the Counterfeiter, the pirate Samuel Mason, and the Sturdivant Gang. I am also close to the 'Trail of Tears' - in the early 1800′s when American settlers headed west into Illinois, the Native Americans were shifted off the land. In 1839 about 14000 Cherokees were forced off the land and made to move 800 miles to modern day Oklahoma through this part of Illinois. Short of food and held up by floating ice in the Mississippi, over 4000 of the Indians died, hence the name Trail of Tears. As soon as I walked into Illinois I spotted a cemetery for Korean war victims. Crossing states was yet another reward for my long days of cycling. <br /><br />I crossed the river on a short ride on the ferry leaving behind me Kentucky with its bluegrass plants, music, chicken, horses and dogs chases. Just when I thought I had put those beasts behind today I had the worst chase of all. Out of nowhere came these two barking dogs, one was pretty big, looked like a rottweiler but I am not sure. The other dog gave up the chase almost immediately, the other one, this huge nasty thing kept on coming after me, I started sprinting furiously and the dog was getting closer. It chased me for about half a mile and when it realized that it could not get to me it finally gave up. Now that I left the State, I don't want to hear, EVER AGAIN, about Ky dogs.<br /><br />Today I also met and chatted with another transAm cyclist, John something. He started in Oregon two months ago and was on his way East to the Atlantic. It was nice seeing another rider and being able to exchange details. I told him to get ready for the Appalachians and he told me to watch out for the 100+ degrees temperatures in Kansas where there is nowhere to hide, no shade at all. I will be ready. Tomorrow I hope to get to Carbondale where there's a bike shop, I want to take it in for a tune-up. The tires seem to be doing fine though. My fitness is still holding up, no knees issues and otherwise. I still want to go on for 2 or 3 days before I take another day off. And tomorrow should be a shortish one.<br /><br />Tonight, I had dinner on a floating restaurant on the Ohio river. The food was good, river fish of some kind, but the continuous motion made eating an hilarious and possibly a seasick endeavor. So far Illinois people seem friendly, after all this is the State that propelled Obama to political glory. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_Fn0y2_I/AAAAAAAAAyU/g28XjMoQL7E/s1600/day+12+002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506916178933767154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_Fn0y2_I/AAAAAAAAAyU/g28XjMoQL7E/s400/day+12+002.JPG" /></a><br />Could this be a faded image of the big American prairie?<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_FG2ZZuI/AAAAAAAAAyM/s2TDRoD_vbo/s1600/day+12+003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506916170082117346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_FG2ZZuI/AAAAAAAAAyM/s2TDRoD_vbo/s400/day+12+003.JPG" /></a><br />Downtown Madisonville<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyGXyaHzNI/AAAAAAAAAzc/rU1C9WKCoic/s1600/day+12+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyGXyaHzNI/AAAAAAAAAzc/rU1C9WKCoic/s400/day+12+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506924187593723090" /></a><br />When you see one of these monsters coming right at you on a bicycle, you wonder whether it's a quick, painless way to go!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_E8OCOxI/AAAAAAAAAyE/lK_bcn06zU8/s1600/day+12+007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506916167228472082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_E8OCOxI/AAAAAAAAAyE/lK_bcn06zU8/s400/day+12+007.JPG" /></a><br />Today I was on Route 70 for a few hours<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_EEv3z6I/AAAAAAAAAx8/p6yvbzENT0k/s1600/day+12+008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506916152338010018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_EEv3z6I/AAAAAAAAAx8/p6yvbzENT0k/s400/day+12+008.JPG" /></a><br />Kentucky tobacco fields<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_Dv4tawI/AAAAAAAAAx0/1lLmgkhDpig/s1600/day+12+009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506916146737933058" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGx_Dv4tawI/AAAAAAAAAx0/1lLmgkhDpig/s400/day+12+009.JPG" /></a><br />You have been warned!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCpj68bkI/AAAAAAAAAy0/XQMfh_H7eb0/s1600/day+12+010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506920094895992386" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCpj68bkI/AAAAAAAAAy0/XQMfh_H7eb0/s400/day+12+010.JPG" /></a><br />Amish country again, I love this sign!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCo3HulgI/AAAAAAAAAys/tomEJxoz1dc/s1600/day+12+011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506920082870015490" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCo3HulgI/AAAAAAAAAys/tomEJxoz1dc/s400/day+12+011.JPG" /></a><br />Amish-made furniture for sale<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCoUjLbBI/AAAAAAAAAyk/BGzcMQbiF9I/s1600/day+12+016.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506920073589910546" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCoUjLbBI/AAAAAAAAAyk/BGzcMQbiF9I/s400/day+12+016.JPG" /></a><br />The barge over Ohio river<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCnxc7xyI/AAAAAAAAAyc/zh4BFYzfCzU/s1600/day+12+018.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506920064168478498" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyCnxc7xyI/AAAAAAAAAyc/zh4BFYzfCzU/s400/day+12+018.JPG" /></a><br />My bike and rucksack on the ferry<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFEBByqSI/AAAAAAAAAzM/1FHe3xSi4dU/s1600/day+12+032.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506922748409194786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFEBByqSI/AAAAAAAAAzM/1FHe3xSi4dU/s400/day+12+032.JPG" /></a><br />The floating restaurant on the Ohio river<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFD8kUL3I/AAAAAAAAAzE/NNPHPCMyTbY/s1600/day+12+038.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506922747211820914" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFD8kUL3I/AAAAAAAAAzE/NNPHPCMyTbY/s400/day+12+038.JPG" /></a><br />Elizabethtown looks like a ghost town, the moon is out<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFDW7FOlI/AAAAAAAAAy8/Y8Df5YuFQhk/s1600/day+12+041.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506922737106762322" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGyFDW7FOlI/AAAAAAAAAy8/Y8Df5YuFQhk/s400/day+12+041.JPG" /></a><br />Ohio riverUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961454600142205487.post-88759692988084252172010-08-17T16:38:00.016-04:002011-10-24T11:48:00.406-04:00DAY 11: Central time!180 km (111 miles) - total: 1498 km (930 miles)<br /><br />Bardstown, Ky to Central City, Ky<br /><br />What a day! I pushed really hard today and I don't know exactly how but all of a sudden I feel I am going places! I am into a new time zone! My watch went back one hour. Washington DC is distant from here. Entering a different time zone implies movement. It is an unmistakable indication that I am making progress and it is certainly a big psychological boost. Dare I say it? Tomorrow night I could be in Illinois...<br />Another perfect day for cycling, I guess I am being very fortunate. Out of 11 days I had 10 sunny days and two brief showers, both in the late afternoon with most of the cycling already in the bag. No thunderstorms so far. But I know for sure that we will cross paths at some point. <br /><br />When I got up this morning (5.55) it was still dark outside. I was the first one to get my hands on the meager breakfast buffet and after a double portion of oatmeal I was off. I was on the road at 6.55 with the sun barely out. With a significant amount of today's ride on relatively flat terrain I knew I could go for it. In fact, it has been the fastest day of the trip with the longest distance covered. And with the advantage of the extra hour of Central time zone I was done by 3.45. I thought about pushing on to the next town, 25 miles away, but I decided against it. Instead I prefered to chill, wash my clothes, update the blog and give my legs a breather. For today's ride I decided to leave the designated route and follow the more direct Route 62, which runs parallel to a bigger highway so there wasn't much traffic on it. However, today was the first day of school so I bumped into many school buses. Needless to say the kids went crazy at seeing a cyclist on the road so every time they passed me I had to reply to the many laughs, shouts, and jeers from the young crowd. I got to talk to more locals today during my pit stops. Western Ky feels much more relaxing than its Eastern counterpart. Certainly it seems wealthier and more economically diverse. In the afternoon, I stopped outside a post office in the tiniest village of Rock Port and the postmaster, an amiable lady came outside to offer me a bottle of water and a peanut butter bar. We chatted for a few minutes, I took her picture and was on my way again. I cannot emphasize enough how kind people are around here, not just that they seem more relaxed and more at ease with life but they also enjoy whiling time away by socializing and smiling a lot. I for one, feel welcomed here and given that there aren't many cyclists this time of the year I go noticed by the locals. Not once have I felt threatened or uncomfortable by my surroundings.<br /><br />While riding hard through the countryside I saw some beautiful horses behind fences, I stopped for a few seconds to get a picture -posted below- I hope it shows the innate elegance of these animals. I think that people around here take great pride in working the land, cultivating the fields, breeding the horses and just respecting the plentiful rewards that nature has to offer. I haven't seen a farm in bad conditions, I haven't spotted a neglected or rotten barn like the many I saw in Eastern Ky. Riding through Western Ky made me realize how hard but also peaceful and rewarding country life can be. This part of the US reminds me of the English countryside. It was actually visited for the first time by an Englishman, Thomas Walker in 1773. This region is called the 'Blue Grass' region as on the fertile land there grows the famous Kentucky bluegrass. This plant has leaves that during certain times of the year have a steel-blue cast. I have also learnt that 3/4 of the land in Ky is used for crops. A lot of tobacco is grown as it is the most important single source of income, followed by corn and wheat. But my ignorance did not allow me to recognize a single tobacco field. Internet came to my rescue and tomorrow I will be looking out for those! My legs feel fine and I could just keep on going and going. <br /><br />111 miles today and not a single dog attack, just a few faint barks in the distance. I hope the dogs are behind me for good. I've got to say that I was really tired of dog chases and confederate flags. I am really enjoying this side of the world! <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8kSohOGI/AAAAAAAAAwc/URxJ01CWjXA/s1600/day+11+005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8kSohOGI/AAAAAAAAAwc/URxJ01CWjXA/s400/day+11+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506491194821130338" /></a><br />Morning dew over Kentucky hills<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8ld9CVlI/AAAAAAAAAws/VSJbgTzAaQU/s1600/day+11+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8ld9CVlI/AAAAAAAAAws/VSJbgTzAaQU/s400/day+11+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506491215039845970" /></a><br />The sign is still there but the motel was gone<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8k8wZ4HI/AAAAAAAAAwk/VfQ8viDc9HU/s1600/day+11+004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8k8wZ4HI/AAAAAAAAAwk/VfQ8viDc9HU/s400/day+11+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506491206128492658" /></a><br />Steam coming out of the water but it wasn't a hot spring<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8kGbESJI/AAAAAAAAAwU/HlNNx4N-ijo/s1600/day+11+008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8kGbESJI/AAAAAAAAAwU/HlNNx4N-ijo/s400/day+11+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506491191543482514" /></a><br />Nashville? Oh yeah!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8jmgmLAI/AAAAAAAAAwM/GgQYq6-LV0I/s1600/day+11+014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr8jmgmLAI/AAAAAAAAAwM/GgQYq6-LV0I/s400/day+11+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506491182976740354" /></a><br />Elizabethtown<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-sjqeEzI/AAAAAAAAAxU/kCkE410514o/s1600/day+11+020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-sjqeEzI/AAAAAAAAAxU/kCkE410514o/s400/day+11+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506493535854924594" /></a><br />Route 62, I spent all day cycling on it<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-sM10uMI/AAAAAAAAAxM/NJZRkv_UNXI/s1600/day+11+015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-sM10uMI/AAAAAAAAAxM/NJZRkv_UNXI/s400/day+11+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506493529728530626" /></a><br />An old railway bridge<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-r2FqnWI/AAAAAAAAAxE/aJqNqgTD_Og/s1600/day+11+016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-r2FqnWI/AAAAAAAAAxE/aJqNqgTD_Og/s400/day+11+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506493523620961634" /></a><br />The '10 commandments' sign, I saw 4 of these today<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-qyZzOPI/AAAAAAAAAw8/fDCRXqlOmIY/s1600/day+11+019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-qyZzOPI/AAAAAAAAAw8/fDCRXqlOmIY/s400/day+11+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506493505451800818" /></a><br />Kentucky horses<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-qndY3EI/AAAAAAAAAw0/GyHskFVMn_U/s1600/day+11+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGr-qndY3EI/AAAAAAAAAw0/GyHskFVMn_U/s400/day+11+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506493502514060354" /></a><br />This is Jeanne, the postmaster at Rock Port, she kindly offered me a drink and a snack<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGstUw6gKOI/AAAAAAAAAxc/4jlT1Q1UX2A/s1600/day+11+night+175.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGstUw6gKOI/AAAAAAAAAxc/4jlT1Q1UX2A/s400/day+11+night+175.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506544804141476066" /></a><br />Central City<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGstVW6L09I/AAAAAAAAAxk/S0wXU3GOntQ/s1600/day+11+night+176.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGstVW6L09I/AAAAAAAAAxk/S0wXU3GOntQ/s400/day+11+night+176.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506544814340690898" /></a><br />Traffic lights at sunset<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGstVpB1WLI/AAAAAAAAAxs/l4YMwwZrf10/s1600/day+11+night+178.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jhe-B6GzgU4/TGstVpB1WLI/AAAAAAAAAxs/l4YMwwZrf10/s400/day+11+night+178.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506544819204610226" /></a><br />Highway lifeUnknownnoreply@blogger.com7