The Last Stretch

I grabbed the key out of its hidden spot, walked up to the door and unlocked it with a simple turn. The door slowly opened and I took a peak inside. "Yeah," I thought to myself, "I was here a bit over 2 months ago." I took a step forward and yelled to see if anyone was home. Out of one of the bedrooms, a voice replied, and seconds later PJ, my new roommate, walked into the hallway to greet me.


I arrived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania last evening. Flying out of San Francisco, it took about 5 hours to cover 3500 miles by plane, a distance that had taken me 2 months to complete by bike. As I was sitting on the airplane, looking outside the window, I couldn't help but think about all the memories I had accumulated over the last 8 weeks. From atop the clouds, I observed the entire continent move below like a film playing slowly in reverse. I saw the desert of Nevada, followed by the vivid red canyons of Utah. Then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado presented themselves in all their glory and finally it was all flat land. Patches of farmland and trees were all that were visible across the horizon and I felt that I was nearing the end of the flight, the end of an amazing experience and the beginning of something uncertain.

The last 48 hours have been filled with anticipation and emotion. To begin, we left Berkeley shortly before noon and headed towards the Oakland pier where a ferry was waiting to take us across the bay. Getting our bikes onto the ferry was a piece of cake and crossing the water took less than half an hour. According to our map, the last stretch of the trip would have us ride toward the Golden Gate Bridge - San Francisco's historical landmark. What a great destination point! But we weren't in any rush to get there yet. On our way we first visited Pier 39, a big tourist attraction, filled with lots of shops. There we emptied our wallets on salt water taffy and chocolate fudge. Next, we walked along the bay and took time to observe the sailboats that were anchored to the dock. There were hundreds of them. Big sailboats and small ones. Some with white sails and others green and navy blue. My favorite one was a sky blue boat with wooden edge framing. It had white sails and was the size of about 35 feet, just big enough for 2-3 people to comfortably live on (it would be awesome to build a boat one day, or if not, at least learn how to sail properly and get out into the ocean. Perhaps on another lenghty trip... ) After a few hours perusing, we slowly made our way west toward the bridge. The wind got stronger, as we rode along the bay, and I started to get a bit chilly. Out in the distance, we saw fog pooling in from all directions. Our first view of our target destination was hardly recognizable. The fog covered up most of the bridge, making it look like a gigantic haze over a busy road. This was not exactly what we had pictured of sunny California. Nonetheless, we continued biking closer and over the bridge. Since we were sharing the walkway with pedestrians, our path was crowded and slow going.  It was hard to move anywhere, if at all. At midpoint, we stopped. This was it. We were finished. We had just completed a trip that had taken us from the steps of my apartment in Washington D.C. to the middle of this grandiose architecture on the other side of the country. An epic moment that didn't feel like it at all. No, in actuality, I was ready to do more, to go further yet and see even more things.

We spent the next day and a half touring SF and eating some amazing food (home cooked and restaurant style!) It was definitely nice being around old friends and staying put for a few days. At the same time, I did not feel ready to settle down again. There is something tragically ironic about doing an adventure of this kind. Having absolutely zero responsibility or committments and all the freedom possibly imaginable, you never want convert back to your old way of living. On an open-ended journey as this, you start to see things from a different perspective. Your eyes are open to appreciate the cultures and life-styles of others. You learn about their daily plights, as well as their most cherished moments. You first-handedly observe how the environment and its dynamic changes affects everyone on different scales and how it shapes the topography for future generations. Riding on a bicycle you fully expose yourself to the elements of your surroundings and you become an extension of nature. You know that the sun has set, not just because it's getting dark outside, but because the temperature is quickly dropping and you are starting not to feel your fingers anymore. You know that the wind is blowing at a minimum of 15 mph against you, because you are working hard and not moving anywhere. You become aware of every little change and more amazingly, you learn how to roll with it. We dealt with whatever came along our way, using whatever tools we had with us, some common sense and the help of kind strangers. Our journey was greatly shaped by the people that crossed our paths and the immediate trust we build upon a fleeting moment. It never ceased to amaze me how trustworthy people were. How they invited us into their lives, ate with us at the same table and how they shared moments dear to them. I feel that I have gained some insight of how the land and its inhabitants function. And yet, this very same insight makes me feel estranged from my peers, who can't fathom what a journey of this sort entails. Sharing these thoughts with other adventure riders I have met along the way, the consensus seems to be that you have to have been there and done it yourself to fully understand the beauty of such an adventure. No matter how much I tried to spell out in words using this blog, I was in no way able to fully capture the events as they really occured. That said, I encourage anyone and everyone to embark on whatever ambitious dream they have been waiting for. There are definitely remarkable things happening in this world, but you have to take the first step outside your home to go and see it.

My journey has come to an end, I am sad to admitt. I am back on the east coast, sitting in a comfortable chair and typing away. My thoughts still long to be traveling on my bike, indefinitely, and it will likely take a few days to adjust to a new life-style again. Nonetheless, I am looking forward to find out what is waiting for me in grad school (besides homework and exams.) It will be a time of learning and growing (bla bla bla.) But I know this won't be the last journey of this type. There is so much more to see and this may have just been the first of many trips. Gracias to everyone for tuning in to my blog and for leaving all these fun comments. Yes, I absolutely did read the comments and smiled while on road. As I slowly settle back into a steady groove over the next few days, I will also try to fill more of the blanks with some entries (that is, if you guys are interested.) There are tons of stories which were already prewritten in my head, but never made it to the screen due to time constraints and such. I also have a ton of wonderful pictures that may be able to demonstrate what we saw. And whoever may be interested in doing this journey themselves, feel free to ask me questions. There are definitely certain things worth knowing that may make this trip a bit more comfortable, though ultimately, you will discover most of it as you go.

Auf wiedersehen!

The Reds and the Whites

Napa Valley. The valley sure has its beauty. There are so many vineyards and wineries, that you can't imagine that people living in this area aren't all wine connoisseurs. We rode into the valley with the aim to taste a lot of different wine. And that we did. Judd's Hill winery, was a local vineyard along our route. Our host presented us with an array of different wines to taste. I have never previously had the ability to differentiate different flavors in wines. They are either bitter or fruity. That's it. But during the tasting, I could gather certain aromas highlighted by each wine. We spent a good hour sitting and talking to the host, who took the time to answer all of our questions on the production and taste of wine. In exchange, we shared some of our stories bicycling across the country.

Why oh why Fentons?

Since my last update plenty of things have happened. We have moved through two entire states, encountered more flats in 2 days than over the past 2 months and met a handful of amazing people. Each event is worth a blog entry itself, and yet I have found very little opportunity to write about each in its entirety, the way they deserve to be.

That said, I will try to backtrace some stories, starting with the most recent and working my way back until I get tired of writing for the day. 

Where are we now? We are in Berkeley, California. Yes, my dear friends and family, we made it to sunny California, the last of 10 states to be covered on this great adventure. Berkeley was not originally on our itinerary. However, after telling my fellow riding companion so much about the great food, and especially the notorious Fentons, an ice cream restaurant infamous for its ice cream challenge, we decided to make a little detour. The Fentons challenge is to finish a whole jug of ice cream (we are talking half a gallon or more) in 10 minutes. One person, in one sitting. If you succeed you earn yourself a Fentons t-shirt and of course, my respect.

Throughout this trip, we have been challenging ourselves with such contests. Frequently we would  enter a grocery store, head straight toward the freezer isle, and pick the biggest tub of ice cream we could find. Minutes later we would sit outside the store, pull out our spoons and start dipping into the tub. People passing would stare at us in bewilderment or amusement. And most of the time we were successful in finishing up the entire tub right then and there. Ice cream has been a great source of fuel for us. It has kept us cool during the hottest of days and given us that extra strength to conquer the hills ahead.

Ryan and I parked our bikes outside of Fentons. We were prepared to take on the challenge. Our stomachs were growling and ready to be filled with some cold, creamy dairy. The anticipation was high.  And just like that our server crushed our dreams. "You need a coupon to do the challenge," she said, and she wouldn't budge. Blah! I couldn't believe it. Everyone in Berkeley knows about the Fentons challenge, but nobody every mentions a stupid coupon! We were disappointed. Nonetheless we ordered a slice of pie to go with a big scoop of ice cream and headed out. 

As we were riding our bikes down Piedmont Avenue, a man started running after us. He was clearly yelling out for us, trying to get our attention. We stopped. He approached, "I saw you guys in Yosemite. Do you guys have a place to stay for the evening?" What a coincidence. Minutes later, we rolled our bikes into his drive way. His name was Bob, and he and his wife, Eleanor, have lived in Oakland, a city neighboring Berkeley for over 30 years. They happened to see us ride our bikes outside of Yosemite three days prior and Bob recognized us again as we were riding down Piedmont Avenue. It is strange how you meet people during moments, in which all that matters is timing. I have lived in Berkeley for four years and never even stepped foot on the road that Bob and Eleanor live on. But on this random day, that we decided to visit the city for a few hours, I stepped foot into their home.  I find that incredible. 

Natural Beauty

The climate is an ever changing variable. When you are heading at a snail pace you become an observer and a student of the topography around you. While riding through Kansas, we felt a continuous drop in humidity. The air got hotter and our throats always felt dry. Over a distance of 500 miles across the state, we gradually gained elevation mile by mile. By the time we arrived in Colorado, humidity was so low and elevation at double what we were used to, that our bodies had to quickly adjust to the conditions. I don't drink as much water as I used to, but on the same token, I also sweat a lot less in the west.

Utah has been full of surprises weather-wise. During the day temperatures reach up to100 degrees and drastically drop to below 50 degrees at night. A few days ago, I fully engulfed myself in my sleeping bag for the first time on this trip. Usually, I just lie on top of it or use it as a blanket. The day before yesterday, we were riding through the canyons during the peak of the day. The day looked gorgeous and the scenery was unmistakably one of the most picturesque I have ever seen. It was looking to be a nice day cruising. Only minutes later, however, clouds pulled in, the sky darkened abruptly and before we even had a chance to pull out our jackets, it started pouring. Out of nowhere, the wind started blasting against us. We were pedaling hard to just get moving. The winds of Kansas did not compare to what was hitting us that day in Utah. I think we may have moved 4 miles in an hour or so.

Riding through the southern part of Utah, we pass by a great chunk of preserved lands. Utah is boasting 5 National Parks and various National Monuments. The topography changes on a day to day basis. We have ridden our bikes through deep canyons, with flaming red colors, intersecting ridges and numerous alcoves. We visited Natural Bridges, formed by water and wind pressing against sandstone that leave behind sculpted artwork. These bridges are temporary and will likely erode over time, but for now, they are considered some of the most beautiful natural wonders.

Colorado Culture

Days: I have lost count of the days. I am sorry. I believe we are somewhere near day 45? 
total distance: I have also stopped doing the math on this as well. But I will fix that sometime in the near future. A rough estimate has it that we have covered about 2700 miles thus far.

Colorado. There are certain things unique to Colorado that make it a place that no one ever wants to leave. Riding through central Colorado is pure bliss. Lush wildflowers in all sorts of colors line the road. In the distance mountains upon mountains protrude out from the ground. They are jagged mountains. Covered with patches of snow mountains. Mountains that at 14,000 feet appear to be touching clouds. It took us two days, and two mountain passes to cross over the Rockies. And surprisingly, those two days were a piece of cake with an amazing topping - the view.

We rode into Telluride two days ago,  a town infamous for its skiing and mountain access. Skiing season is long over, but the town itself remains lively and filled with people. Through word of mouth, we heard of a hike/climb named the Via Ferrata or "Road with Irons" that involved a manmade route going along a mountain side. This route was built with steel ladders and a cable protection. All we needed was a harness, some locking carabiners and a few slings. And how lucky were we that we had all those things with us (yep, ever since Boulder, we have been lugging around a good 5-8 pounds of extra climbing gear.) Eager to check out this climb we set our alarms for 4 am to hike up the hidden trail towards Via Ferrata. It was still dark outside and millions of stars were visible in the sky (I love star gazing.) We crossed a waterfall, hiked 2 miles uphill, did some rock scrambling and finally reached the beginning of the route. At the start of the route, we had to walk close to the edge of the mountain side. A misstep or a slip of a rock would have us tumble down 200 feet to the base of the mountain. For the most part, however, we were clipped to the cable protection and moving at a steady pace. The crux of the route consisted of a long traverse across a wall. I took a gaze down below, and could feel a rush of fright and excitement rush through me. We were high up and the view was amazing. It took about 3 hours to complete the entire hike and this was probably the best hike I have ever done.


Besides all the climbing and hiking stuff, Colorado also has some other interesting things. Only in Colorado will you get pulled over by a cop while on a bike. We were cruising down the road when a siren went off behind us. I didn't stop right away, because I didn't even consider that the siren was meant for us bikers. But Ryan pulled over and sure enough the cop was right behind us. An officer got out of the car. He approached us with a serious face and I tried to brainstorm what law we could have possibly violated. Then he asked, "so where are you guys heading?" Taken by surprise by this seemingly innocent question, we answered with our usual speech. It turned out that he just wanted to make sure that we were safe and riding in single file line, to avoid being hit be any cars. "Well, thank you officer, we will be safe!" The next day, we had another cop pull over to us as we were taking pictures along the road. He offered some spare tubes and told us to have a good trip. So yeah, cops in Colorado definitely have a different attitude towards bikers than anywhere else.

Some other interesting observations... Only in Colorado will you find public parks with bouldering walls that have some extremely challenging problems. Seriously, no child (or me) should just attempt those boulders, because injury will likely occur.  Only in Colorado will you come across towns that have pubs and saloons but no grocery store.

We just crossed the border into Utah! woot woot! Colorado was amazing and certainly a place I'd like to come back to soon, but what is ahead will surely be great as well.

The Rockies are Real

Since leaving Boulder we have been riding through some amazing mountains. I know I complained a lot while touring the Appalachians, but the Rockies are nothing like this. The grades are not nearly as steep. They are long, that's for sure, but the gradual increase makes the ride much easier. I did have a bit of a struggle adjusting to the altitude changes. At 11,312 feet above sea level, I felt a bit short of breath and light headed as we neared the peak of Monarch Pass, our first pass through the Rockies.

I was hoping that our descent would be like flying. Not so. The wind resistance and the fact that our bike bags act like sails, slowed us down significantly. It was still a lot of fun though. Hands down, Colorado has been the highlight of this trip in terms of landscape. It is amazing out here.

7 Stitches and 3 Awesome Gals

About a year and a half ago I injured myself during a bouldering accident while trying to attempt an epic V3 move underneath a cave (I thought it was epic, others may disagree.) Unfortunately, I swung out with way too much momentum and tore some ligaments in my right elbow. The time it took for this injury to fully recover was taunting. You would think that I have learned my lesson following this incident. Well... you are wrong.

While out in Boulder, Colorado I had the rare opportunity to boulder some amazing routes. I fully seized that chance. How could I not? Ryan and I borrowed a crash pad and headed toward Flagstaff, a very popular bouldering spot. We were just goofing around with a few different routes and I was projecting a route that would had me climb a good 30 feet up. I was doing well. Really well for not having bouldered in a long time. But then again not well enough to come down safely. Midway through the climb, I decided to down climb back to ground rather than making it all the way to the top. Down climbing ain't easy, especially outdoors where you can't always see your holds and footings. Long story told quickly, I came down from about 17 feet, landed on the crash pad and was fine. For the most part, anyways. Only 5 minutes after my fall did I notice that my left knee had been torn open from the impact of my knee bending so quickly. Bones, muscles, and ligaments were all fine, but this was a deep flesh wound.

So what to do when on a bike trip with a pretty big gash on your knee? I was lucky. Andrea, Laura and Brittany came to my rescue. Ryan and I were scheduled to stay the evening at the girls' house. When we arrived (quite late), they had prepared some delicious dinner and welcomed us inside. We ate and talked and afterwards they drove me to the ER to get that wound stitched up before it was too late. I don't know what exactly I would have done without them. For a moment, I was considering doing the stitching job myself (yes, I did buy needle and thread...) but I'm glad that I didn't resort to that option.

I've been taking it easy for the last several days. Mainly been biking with one leg. Having clip-in shoes helps a lot with that! I covered a total of 40 miles one legged, while riding in Boulder. Two days ago, we headed out finally and are now back on the road, going at full speed. My knee is fine. And let me tell ya that a trip to a hospital with some awesome company makes for a great story and some new friends. These girls are awesome, they just got back from a weekend biking trip themselves!

A little bit of familiarity

Day 31: Leoti to Eads, CO

distance: 83 mi

Day 32: Eads to Hugo, CO

distance: 68 mi

Day 33: Hugo to Elizabethtown, CO

distance: 71 mi

Day 34: Elizabethtown to Denver, CO

distance: 46 mi

Day 35 and 36: play day in Denver

Day 37: Denver to Boulder, CO

distance: 51 mi

Day 37-40 play days in Boulder

Being off the bike for a few days has been a nice change from our usual routine. After spending a full day in Denver touring the museums and town parks we headed toward Boulder with the full intention of exploring the mountains. By car, Boulder is approximately 30 miles from Denver, an easy half an hour drive. We decided to take the bike path to avoid traffic. It is quite nice that Denver and the surrounding areas have plenty of bike enthusiasts. The city is built for bikers with ample bike trails exclusive to cyclists. Strolling into and out of the city, we were met by a good number of road bikers going about their way. It was refreshing to see so many people out and about.  On a slight downside, however, the bike paths are not necessarily meant for commuting between two cities and are therefore never a direct shot. We turned a 30 mile distance into a 50 mile ride by taking the trails. That was a tad bit annoying.

As we neared our destination to Boulder, we could already see he foothills to the mountains. Feel like takithe mountain ranges spanning in the distance. The mountains are enormous. Gorgeous. I had heard a bit about the city of Boulder from my friend, Ash, who had moved out to the area three months prior. And as soon as we entered the city, it was obvious why he had moved out here. This city is every outdoor enthusiasts' dream. Within driving (even biking) distance, you are at tng an afternoon hike or climb? No problemo, because there are plenty of areas to choose from. There is a river that runs from the mountains down through the city center. The locals line up with river tubes and other floatation devices and casually float down the stream. Skiing, snowboarding and kayaking are also pretty big here. There is something for everyone.

We met up with Ash to do some climbing. After traveling for such a long period of time and meeting so many people along the way, there is something really nice about seeing a familiar face and doing an activity you are familiar with. Ash took us to the Roosevelt National Forrest up in Boulder Canyon, where we sport climbed a few routes. Since none of my cycling buddies have had much climbing experience, this was new to them. It's a nice feeling to get someone interested in something you care about a lot. We ended the day with a hike into the Flatirons, a set of four mountain slabs (see pic above). The hike was nice and relaxing. It was strange, however, to be off the bike and to use a completely different set of muscles to gain elevation. Two miles into the hike we approached a 5.0 route climb that paralleled the hiking path (for all non-climbers, a 5.0 route is considered a slanted rock scramble. It is an extremely easy route for climbers, but will likely require the use of all fours to ascend.) At this point, Ash took off his shoes and said something along the lines of "I'll see you guys at the top, just follow the path." Barefooted and without any gear, he soloed up a 6 pitch climb. Intrigued by this (and probably a bit out of my mind), Ryan and I followed suit, while Bryan decided to take the safe trail up. 

No matter, how confident you are about your ability to climb a given route, when you are free climbing, the biggest challenge is the mental aspect of the climb. The climb was easy, up until the moment I stopped to consider what the heck I was actually doing. A tiny misstep or a movable rock and any of us could plummet to the base of the mountain, some 100 feet below. I did get freaked out for an instant and started traversing over toward the trail. However, somehow, I found myself ascending up further just a few seconds later. To put everyone at ease, we all made it to the top in one piece without any incidences. Ash incurred a minor scrape on his toe after jumping some rock (again barefooted!) The experience of doing a free climb is unmatched by any climb I have previously done with gear, no matter what grading. It required a steady mind and a lot of care and confidence to minimize all human error to the smallest fraction possible. But having done this once, I wouldn't necessarily do this again. You can't really predict the rocks, and taking a risk of this magnitude that is beyond your control is really not something I would mess around with on a daily basis. It was an exhilarating climb though, to say the least.

Colorful Colorado

We arrived in Colorado, the land of mountains and mountains!

After spending 2 days riding through the desolate lands of eastern Colorado my brain started to tire. "This is worse than Kansas," I thought.  Kansas was one straight shot through farmland. It was repetitive, for sure, but at least the color of the field changed every so often. I was elated by the fact that we finally reached state borders. We have been looking forward to Colorado and the mountains ever since we started this trip. But somehow, my excitement didn't hold very long. Eastern Colorado sure didn't have any farmland, in fact, it was pretty much barren. The land is not fertile enough to grow anything on and the scenery never changed. Never. I started counting the miles on my pedometer, tried calculating how many hours it would take us until the next town. It was a straining ride. On one of the days, we stopped at a windmill, which we saw off in the distance (yes, we hoped a fence to get there, but who cares). I had previously learned that these windmills pull well water from deep underground. The water is clean and drinkable (let's ignore the fact that it's meant for cows.) As we walked toward the windmill, it felt like we were heading toward an oasis.

We arrived in Denver three days ago. Our first metropolitan city since leaving D.C. It has been awesome. Denver has tons of things to offer.

This will be our pit stop for a few days.