I Can Ride My Bike With No Handlebars, No Handlebars

Can you? =P

Bale of Hay

 

Day 30: Bazine to Leoti, KS

distance: 96 mi

total distance: 2111 miles

Have you ever flown across the country by airplane and looked outside the window to see patches of squares colored in different shades of brown, yellow and green spanning the land beneath you? Each patch measures a square mile and is dedicated to some sort of crop. It looks vast from a bird's point of view. Now imagine being somewhere in the middle of one of these fields. All around you, you see nothing but grain and corn. While riding through Kansas, this is what we observed for hours at a time. Every town is 30-60 miles apart from the next, and no services in between. Once you leave a town, you mentally prepare to ride into the abyss of endless land. The road in front of you is flat and straight. No turns and very little deviation.

There is something truly relaxing about this kind of riding. I have come to love the sight of farmland and take a deep breath whenever I pass dozen bales of hay. The smell of hay is roasty. It smells familiar, although I don't know what to compare it to. If I were to have a backyard, I would stack hay in it just for the smell. Two nights ago we spent the evening at a bicycle hostel in Bazine, KS. Dan, the owner of the hostel worked in the hay industry and told us all about his work. Through him I learned that hay is good business in Kansas and is often sold by the ton. Shipped either locally or to other states such as Texas, the sole purpose of hay is to feed cattle.  That's it. We have seen so much hay over the past month, that it seems almost too strange to think that it is all bunched up for them cows (I guess that just means that us humans eat lots of beef.)

Though the roads are flat in Kansas, the winds can create unpredictable riding conditions. I believe we have been fairly lucky. For the most part, the winds have been coming from south, thus hitting us from the side and requiring us to slightly lean to the left in order to keep our bikes upright. Yesterday, we had a good two hours of tailwind. And let me tell you that it is one of the most wonderful things ever. When you are moving in the direction of the wind, you feel like there is no wind. It pushes you forward, ever so slightly, and makes you feel like you are riding at enormous speeds (18-23 mph) effortlessly. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything.

On the other hand, headwind feels like an invisible beast. You pedal and pedal and at best are moving at 11 miles per hour, though the roads are flat. Somehow I feel that a headwind is hitting me harder than the others. My energy wades quickly and I look for opportunities to steal a piece of energy from my companions. This is where drafting plays into the picture. When you bike at a speed of at least 12 mph, you create a gust of wind behind you that another rider can ride in and be pulled with. Over the past few days, Laura and I have been excellent drafting partners. I pull her a few miles, while she chills out in my draft, and when I get tired, we switch. Moving in each others draft, we have covered a decent amount of miles in a much shorter time than if we were to move side by side next to each other. It's great! And did you know that humans copied the concept of drafting from birds? How smart they are!

Only 15 miles from the border of Colorado, we will be leaving Kansas in a few hours. And then I may finally say, "We are no longer in Kansas, Dorothy!"

Yay Laura!

 Day 24: Golden City to Hepler, Kansas

distance: 63 mi

Day 25: Hepler to Toronto State Park, KS

distance: 71 mi

Day 26: Toronto State Park to Eureka, KS

distance: 28 mi

Day 27: Eureka to Newton, KS

distance: 81 mi

Day 28: Newton to Lanard, KS
distance: 113.4 mi (yayuh)

Day 29: Lanard to Bazine, KS

distance: 54.5 mi
total distance: 2015 mi (yay!!!)

We ride along a very well travled route. The TransAmerican trail was mapped out in 1973 and since then, many a cyclist have embarked on the journey across the country. We have come across a lot of riders over the course of time. They either head east or west. We stop, we chit chat and we exchange contacts. We met Laura back in Virginia. Laura is a female solo-rider. That's right! I ain't the only crazy gal out there and this one is the real tough one. Laura started in Yorktown, VA and is heading to Montana! Our route is the same until we hit Colorado, at which point she will be heading north. She has been riding on and off with us during this trip and decided to join us through Kansas. It is definitely nice to have another girl to talk to once in a while. Boys are cool, but I don't want to talk about bikes and beef 24/7 (only joking, the guys have been awesome.)

We entered Kansas five days ago. And let me tell you that the legend is true... Kansas is flat!!! We have been riding on a single route all day long. Route 96 takes us through western Kansas all the way to the Rockies in Colorado. I enjoy riding on flat roads. It is such a relaxing thing and allows for much more time to ponder the world amongst other stuff. The scenery, despite what others may say, is gorgeous. Field after field of corn. Soybean plantations. Lots of hay. Sunflowers.  It may get a bit monotonous perhaps, but when you are riding through and just enjoying yourself, it is one of the most calming things ever. I look to my right and to my left and never see the end of the crops. It makes you feel small and big at the same time.

Day 22: Johnson Shut-Ins to Marshfield, MO
distance: 91 mi

Day 23: Marshfield to Golden City, MO
distance: 85 mi

Back blogging is a difficult thing. You can never give all the detail you would like to. The longer you wait to write, the more likely your memory of detail fades. I have an overload of stories I could tell you about of things just within the last week. Give me several hours and a tub of ice cream and I'll start talking. Finding internet sources is not an easy task on the road, and I gave up on the cell phone updates long time ago. It's just too much effort to thumb-type everything with character limitations. 

We are currently in Kansas, already over half way through. Missouri, despite the countless mountains, was a blast. Flowing rivers, lake reservoirs, and an abundance of greenery. To me, Missouri is the state of fresh flowing water. Everyday we took random pit stops at rivers and lakes along the route. At Johnson Shut-Ins, right in the midsts of the Ozarks, we floated down a river stream amidst rocks and boulders. The following day we touched base at one of America's coldest rivers (supposedly) "Alley Spring." My feet went numb after about 20 seconds of standing in 50 degree F water. But when you are riding your bike in over 100 degree temperatures, you try to ignore the freezing cold. We held our breaths and dipped heads into the cold. Next day, we discoverd a river flowing along a cliff. The river was wide and the water deep. How deep? Not sure, but deep enough for us to take a short hike to the top of the cliff and jump down 30 feet into the water below, without ever touching ground. I am not usually a thrill-seeker of this sort. Free falling from anything above 10 feet (without a rope) is scary. But somehow this jump was essential and peer pressure from my companions encouraged me to suck it up. Standing on top of the cliff, I took a deep breath, counted to three and stepped forward into nothing. Within a second or so I was down in the water, feeling high on adrenaline and shaky in my core. It was an amazing feeling.

Hands in My Pocket

I knew all about the Appalachians in the east, and have heard countless stories on the Rocky Mountains out west. Everything in between, I was told, will be flat, a piece of cake and the time to chill and roll. But out of nowhere, there came the Ozarks.

Steep rolling hills (much steeper than my legs would like them to be). Riding through Missouri's Ozark Mountains was like a self-propelled roller coaster ride. If you are able to gain enough momentum coming down from the last hill, you may have 80% of the next hill cut out for you, if not, well then see ya at the top in 10 min. Although the Appalachians required much more endurance at a time, the Ozarks were unexpected and mentally challenging. Hill after hill, I kept wondering when this was going to be over and why these hills were even here. It took 3 days to get through the hills and I consider some of those days to be the most difficult ones yet (mentally, at least).

During the early days of this trip, I remember experiencing a moment where it felt like I was going up a wall. I fought and pedalled with every bit of energy I had. My lungs were heaving for air, and my hands were gripping tightly. I stared at the ground, not daring to see how much higher I had to climb. It was difficult. It sucked butter. It made me want to sit at the side of the road and take a nap. Then I recalled having brought my ipod along. I snatched it out of my bag for the first time and turned it on shuffle. And the next bit was magic. Flowing into my ears and right to my brain, came... Alanis Morisette's "Hands in My Pocket" (don't judge my style of music, that song may be old school, but it kicks ass)! If you aren't already humming the song, youtube it please, that song saved my butt out in the mountains. My mind was no longer fixated on the hill. I started smiling, singing even and moved up that hill slowly, but surely.

Hills are strenuous, and always will be, but a bit of a musical booster and the freedom to rock out when no one can hear you within a 10 mile radius can help.

"Everythings going to be fine, fine, fine...
Cause I got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is giving a high five."

The Home That Travels With You

Every night I fall asleep to the sound of crickets whistling in the distance. As long as the temperature doesn't reach above 80 degrees, I sleep like a bear, undisturbed by my surroundings, no matter where I am camped. It has been three weeks of travel and 1700 miles of ground. We have visited countless towns, eaten at numerous fast food places, and found refuge at a variety of (oftentimes unexpected) locations. But regardless of where we end up for the night, may it be the mountain ranges of Virginia, some remote neighborhood in eastern Kentucky or a river bank out in Missouri, as soon as I zip up my tent for the night, I am in my bubble of comfort. I am "home" and ready to rest.

In the predawn hours of the morning, I wake up to the rustling of zippers and tents close by. It's around 6 am and time to get up and start another day. What awaits in the hours ahead is always a mystery, an unknown surprise, and a daily inspiration.

Viewpoints

Day 19: Carbondale, Il to Ozora, Missouri

Distance: 70 miles

Day 20: Ozora to Johnson Shut-Ins

distance: 66 miles

Day 21: Johnson  Shut-Ins to Summerville, MO

distance: 76 miles

total distance: 1428 miles

When you come across a “Best Buy” and “Macys” and think to yourself “I am back to civilization,”  you know something ain’t right. This is what crossed our minds as we rode into Carbondale. With a population of about 25,000 residents and the University of Southern Illinois (which has a student body of 20,000 approx), this city was our closest encounter to a big scale city in two weeks. We stopped at a bike shop to get some quick fixes and then hit a chinese buffet (not my choice…). It was the first time during this trip that we encountered food options other than burgers, pizzas, and biscuit and gravy (only in the south, yo). 

In the early morning we left Carbondale to head out for Missouri. Along the way we witnessed our first flooding just at the outskirts of Neunert, Illinois. Fields and fields of crops submerged in water. Farmers who lost all their harvest for the year. Some roads and bridges closed off. It was almost eerie seeing this. And most surprisingly, this has been the state of this area since April. We are somewhere in mid July (I think…), which means that the floods have lasted over 3.5 months now. The locals told us that they hoped for the water to drain into to Mississippi River soon, but with spontaneous down pour every so often, this was likely not going to happen. We took our bicycles and rode them through the flooded roads (a bit of flooding won’t stop us) and left Illinois via a bridge over the Mississippi. 

Ending in Ozora for the evening, we stopped for dinner at the only open food place in town, “The Zone,” a bar and grill. I opted out of having yet another burger, feeling much more content with a self-made peanut butter and trail mix tortilla.  But while at the restaurant, we engaged in a conversation with some folks sitting across the bar. It ain’t often that one meets the enemy face to face… The two men we casually conversed with turned out to be truck drivers. On a bicycle, your biggest fear is getting too close to a truck. We don’t often take busy roads, but when we do, I brace myself for trucks coming from behind. Whenever they speed passed you, they leave behind a draft of wind strong enough to swerve you off the road a bit. It’s not pleasant at all. So here we were sitting in “The Zone” facing the enemy. And you know what… it was pretty awesome. These guys were just like us. They traveled by truck to places unknown and remote. They loved not knowing where exactly they would be a week from today. They had a final destination, but no one who looked over their shoulder to reprimand their moves. One guy told us it was much better than working for corporate. And the second guy mentioned how he had hiked the entire Appalachians long ago. We exchanged blog addresses (ha!) and left the bar. I may look at truck drivers in a different way from now on (depending on how close they drive to me on the road…)

Here Comes the Sun, Here Comes the Sun

Day 17: Utica to Cave in Rock, Illinois
distance: 93 miles

Day 18: Cave in Rock to Tunnel Hill
distance: 60 miles

Day 19: Tunnel Hill to Carbondale, Illinois
distance: 41 miles
total distance: 1216 miles


Who knew that the Ohio River separates two states? Not me. We took a ferry to cross our second state border from Kentucky to Illinois two days ago. Somehow we all felt excited to be done with Kentucky. Every time you cross a border or switch into a different time zone (we are now 1 hour behind eastern time! and we don't exactly know when the switch occurred), you actually feel like you accomplished some distance. It's a mental booster.

The last three days riding had its own challenges. We have been hit with immense heat waves in both Kentucky and Illinois. There was in fact a heat advisory, warning people to stay cool in their air conditioned homes. Two days in a row, our thermometer measured 110 degrees Fahrenheit. That's hot enough to crack an egg on the ground and have some sunny-side-up five minutes later.

And yet we keep moving still. How do we do it safely? For one thing, we carry tons of water with us. I carry four bottles with me, two in my holders and two strapped to my bags, and I refill all of them every time we stop somewhere. I have gotten used to drinking warm gatorade, which tastes like tea, by the way. It's really not that refreshing, but it still helps. Another thing that helps is garden hoses. That's right. In order to cover 70 miles a day in baking heat, you have to cool off every 10 miles or so. We literally walk up to people's homes  (those that are already waving at us) and ask if we may drench ourselves with their garden hoses. It feels great for about 30 minutes, after which you are completely dry again and are desperately searching for another hose.

We were happy to arrive at Al and Ann's home two days ago. They invited us to stay a night and we were all too happy to sleep in an air conditioned room. The night before I was dripping sweat just sitting in my tent. We chilled off for the evening and shared a few stories over dinner. I played with the dogs and watched humming birds drink sugar water on the porch. The nicest part of that evening was hearing how Al and Ann had designed and built their home from scratch. Their house reminded me of a cozy log cabin, just much much bigger and homier. Lots of character. Every room had handmade quilts as bedding and every item spoke toward their personality. I loved it.

Today we will get to Missouri. yayuh. Yah, Illinois was a short stay, but nice nonetheless.

Baiku

Sometimes when you are out on the road for hours at a time, you find interesting ways of passing the time. We composed this while riding one day. Just one of many things we do on a bike...



A Day's Company


Us six ride with dew,

Half drop out at the sun's peak,

All rejoined at dusk.

Caves for Cavemen

Day 14: Bardstown to Horse Cave

Distance: 77 mi

Day 15: Horse Cave to Upton

Distance: 46 mi

Day 16:  Upton to Utica

Distance : 86 mi

total distance: 1030 miles (we hit over 1000 miles!!!)

We decided to take an off route detour to visit the Mammoth Caves National Park of Kentucky. This added a whole 65 miles to the trip. The caves are supposedly amazing to explore. We were looking forward to taking a rest day in order to go spelunking. However, upon arrival at the National Parks we quickly realized that proper spelunking wasn’t really possible. These caves have been commercialized to the extent that the only type of exploring requires a guided tour that you have to pay for. Alright, we made it this far, might as well sign up for a tour, we thought. But them park rangers did not think so. We weren’t allowed to actually do the caving tours because we didn’t have the proper ankle protection. Yeah apparently, we needed ankle high boots, and our make shift ankle protection, for which I creatively used my handlebar tape and wrapped it around my ankle two layers thick, did no suffice. Alas, we settled for a walking tour through the caves and got some cool pictures.

Bourbon Capital

Day 13: Harrodsburg to Bardstown

Distance: 42 mi

 

We left Berea in good spirits and ready to ride the distance.  To our surprise, the next town was almost equally as cool. We arrived at the “Bourbon Capital of the World,” aka Bardstown. This town has some big city renown. It carries a lot of historic relevance from the Civil War period (I don’t know much more than that) and it is now famous for its lucrative distilling factories, hence Bourbon Capital. So let me put a few facts together… I am currently unemployed. I am on a two month “travel vacation.” And I am in Bardstown, known for its Bourbon distilleries. Put these things together and you’ll likely get to what I was thinking. Let’s try some Bourbon, fellas! Juuust kidding. I didn’t go nuts, but I did try a couple different Bourbons (that stuff sure goes down hard…) and some very tasty beer “Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale.” I loved the beer (almost as good as Banana Heffeweizen), but I’m not a fullfleged fan of Bourbon.  The next day, we actually visited one of the distilleries and learned a ton about the making of Bourbon. A guide took us through the entire process, starting with the processing of the grain (51% has to be corn, or else it ain’t Bourbon) to the final stage of bottling and shipping everything to different parts of the world. I have never seen a factory this way. It felt like a live documentary. 

 

Thumbdrums are genius!

Day 12: Berea to Harrodsburg

Distance: 61 mi

771 mi

Travel and culture go hand in hand. You can’t visit a place and not learn a little bit about the culture and customs of the people you are immersed in. After our “century” ride to Berea, we spent half the day exploring the town. Two days prior to arriving in this wonderful little town, all we had seen of Kentucky was rural and desolate. The hills of eastern Kentucky are closely associated with terms such as “Hill Billy” and “red neck.” We have come across many confederate flags and seen cars drive off with rifles in their passenger seat. Apparently, the police doesn’t exists out here - if you are in need, get out your gun, not your phone. This probably also explains why cell phone reception out in the rural areas is pretty much non existent.  But this all changed when we arrived in Berea. Downtown Berea is filled with art and culture. Two whole streets lined with art and craft stores. It was in one of those stores that I bought my first souvenir of the trip... a thumbdrum! Before you laugh, hear me out. A thumbdrum is a handy musical instrument, that covers one whole scale. It is made of gourd (the shell of some tropical fruit), it is super light weight (because I don’t want anything heavy on ma bike). It is fun to play with your thumbs. It is creative and allows me to make music while on this trip. In other words, it is perfect for every traveler. I have played it twice so far and hope to master it by the end of this trip. You’ll see! In the same shop that I bought this little genius instrument in, I also met Ms. Jimmy Lou Jackson, who showed us how to make jewelery out of beads. This lady is incredibly charming with a spice of humor. After twenty years of working in research she decided to switch her lifestyle a bit and create her own artwork. She has been working in this shop for a while now, happy as can be, and in company of her sister who does watercolor paintings. It is always nice to come across people who aren’t afraid of switching gears, no matter at what stage of their lives. Guts and initiative, I say. 

Kentucky and them Dogs

Day 9: Lebanon,VA  to Elkhorn City, KY
distance: 61 mi

Day 10: Elkhorn City to Dwarf, KY
distance: 75 mi

Day 11: Dwarf to Berea, KY
distance 101 mi
total distance: 710 mi

 We crossed our first state border! Kentucky! It is surprising that towns of neighboring states, even if only separated by a few miles, can be so noticeably different from one another. Shortly after entering the state, we had multiple encounters with dogs chasing after us. Before starting this trip, I had read multiple stories of people getting bitten by dogs in Kentucky, which did not make me feel very good about this. So far we have been able to avoid any incidents, but when a dog starts running toward you, barking and looking all vicious, you better hope you can ride fast enough to escape.

We have been riding through a lot of rural towns. Some of these places have a population size of under 100 people. Can you imagine? That population is smaller than the number of students in my college chemistry class. We frequently find ourselves driving through a town, wondering where the town center is, only to realize that we have just passed the one building that can be found in the town, which is either a post office or a grocery store. That's it. Out here, there is barely anything that really makes up a town.

Yesterday, we arrived in Dwarf. We were all hungry and trying to look for a anything that might sell food of some sort. After half an hour of riding we came across this store, which from the outside reminded of an abandoned trailer. One door, no windows. But it had a "grocery store" sign on top. Though skeptical, we dared to open the door and found ourselves inside a well stocked, albeit small, shop. Dinner for us all! I had some microwavable dish and together we consumed a 2 quart jug of ice cream for dessert (or appetizer).

Today we arrived in Berea, a much larger city compared to the small towns we have encountered thus far. We have been riding through hills all day long and pushed ourselves to finish the day at 100 miles!

There is so much more I could write about on the people and places I see and the things we encounter on our rides, but really, at the end of the day, I'm just beat and trying to digest everything that has happened in just one day.

Ticket to Hospitality

 Day 7: Claytorlake State Park to Sugar Grove
distance: 71 mi

Day 8: Sugar Grove to Lebanon, VA over Hayters Gap Mountain
distance: 70 mi
total distance: 473 mi

It's been over a week since we started the tour and we are now close to the western border of Virginia. Thus far the trip has been defined by amazing landscapes, people with southern accents, and hills, hills, hills. Who knew that Virginia was that hilly? Why didn't anyone tell me? I am rather amazed by how well my legs have learned to adapt and recover from the continuous stress of uphill cycling. But whoever said that riding across America is more mental than it is physical is a semi-liar. Crossing Hayters Gap Mountain, the steepest mountain incline of this trip (Hayters what now?? Don't ask me, I had no idea this thing existed until I had to climb it,) was a 45 minute sweat ride. You work hard for every inch that you're moving. I had salt crystals on my arm after today's ride. No kidding.

For the past several days we have been riding parallel to the Appalachian trail and come across a fair amount of through hikers. Yes, those guys are hardcore, grungy, oftentimes bearded people, who know how to make fire just by staring at wood. But behind that massive beard, these people are friendly folk who have some amazing stories to tell. We met a couple that started their hike 5 months ago and were still going strong (despite the occasional riff spending so much time with each other, I am sure.) While on tour you quickly realize that what helps you remember days and events is often defined by the people you meet and talk to on a given day, not necessarily by the things you did (cycle and eat) or the places you saw (cows).

Both hiker and bicycle tourer have something in common... they are both adventure travelers and as such, gain access to a world unbeknownst to all other travelers. This part may sound a bit unbelievable, but it is indeed true. A gigantic 30 L pack on your back or 2 panniers on your bicycle opens doors to peoples' homes and kindness. In nearly every town that we have stopped in, people have approached us to talk to us, to offer us a refill on water, or soda or beer, or to see if we have a place to stay for the evening. They want to shake our hands, know where we are from, how long we've been traveling and where we are going. Our stories (so far not that many) are music to their ears. Quite a few of them have attempted a trip of this sort themselves, some have done it many years ago, and others just want to meet out of towners. The kindness of people has been quite amazing, to say the least. I am writing this while sitting on the bed of a guestroom in John and Patty's home. My dinner consisted of oven-baked chicken, fried rice, self-grown salad with homemade salad dressing, homemade hummus, pita bread, and a glass of wine. Oh and let's not forget the cherry pie with ice cream for desert.