Bike America Day 2: Into the Wild

Day’s Distance: 55.62

Average Speed: 11.3

Maximum speed"28.3

Overall distance: 105

I woke up Friday morning, relieved to not have been eaten by a bear in the night, and took my typical long time packing my bags and taking down the tent. It would be a decently long day with several significant climbs, the longest being ten miles up the base of a mountain at the end of the day.

After eating a cold bagel with cream cheese, something that would never taste even a quarter as good at home, and packing the car, my mom and I set out. The sun was shining and we spent the first eighteen miles playing leap frog. I would ride ahead, stop to take pictures, she’d catch up and pass me, and I’d set out to pass her and ride ahead all over again. The scenery was unbelievable and I felt the need to capture it all.

 We met up with my dad in Rockport, WA, population 102, and talked with a Vietnam vet who rode his bike from Spokane, WA to Detroit, MI for a March of Dimes fundraiser in 1974. We left the town that is a gas station and rode 12.5 mostly deserted miles to our parked car where we stopped for lunch in a gravel parking lot beside a grass-fed beef farm called American Alpine. Lunch was a peanut butter and banana sandwich and an apple. In the lot, we met a fisheries biologist who told us about a trio of brothers that he and his wife met in Alaska last fall. These boys, who had just graduated from Princeton were just setting out on a bike journey from Anchorage, AK to Argentina. The man had been following their blog and reported that they just finished their journey last month. Holy cow that is a long bike ride! And I thought America was huge!

From Marblemount, the last source of provisions on our route for the next 74 miles, my dad and I rode about 30 miles into our campsite. The first twenty or so were flat and quick. I stopped to pee and met a couple whose daughter and her boyfriend, on summer break from college, were wrapping up their bike journey from the Mexican border, through the mountains, to Canada. The parents were on their way to meet the couple at a campsite for the night. Turns out this biking thing is pretty freaking popular!

We were well aware that the final ten miles of the day would be uphill so we were anxiously awaiting the start. The looming question was whether my dad would be able to/want to ride all ten miles up the mountain and then whether he would be able to safely ride the 33 miles uphill the next day. When the climb began, we were pleasantly surprised at how steady the grade was. Forty-three miles of that would be no problem. But it quickly got steeper and we slowly chugged along as we inched our way up. We went through a long dark tunnel, cut out of the rock, and were both scared of cars not seeing us, or the blinking light on my bike, in the cool, wet, pitch-blackness of it. We spent the whole day riding along the Skagit River which was full of the the most blue-green water I've ever seen outside of Jamaica. 

With only two miles left to climb, my dad decided to call it quits. My mom would be back by with the car and he know that was the safe thing to do on this, the second day of the ride. He said that our friend Jack, who’d advised “don’t let anyone, including yourself, do anything stupid” had gotten in his head. It was a shame because about 350 feet after I left him, the hill crested and the final 2 miles into camp were downhill. By the time I thought to ride back and tell him to come along, I’d gone too far down to turn around. The silver lining, my dad noted, was that he can brag to Jack about his safe decision-making.

In camp, we all lounged and talked about the challenging day ahead. Dinner was warm chili and a salad. We were early in our tents to rest up for Day 3.

Bike America Day 1: Washington to...

Sitting in a small town restaurant for lunch, 31 miles into our ride, my dad said "Well, I think it's safe to say that our adventure is officially underway." And that it is.

We're in Rasor State Park, a pine forest at the foot of the Cascade Mountains. Day 1 of our ride was cold, windy, and cloudy. It was also simple and fun.

We started just before 9AM pacific time at the ferry stop in Anacortes Park. After taking a few commemorative photos, my dad and I began riding and my mom set out in the car. The scenery was strange for the first thirty miles. A strange mix of farms, mountain ranges mostly blocked by clouds, and industrial powerplants and warehouses. One thing is certain: it felt very far from home.

In Sudro Wooley, the town 31 miles in, my dad and I ate lunch and waited for my mom to arrive. After parking the car at our overnight destination, she rode the 17 miles back to meet us. 

We all rode the final stretch together and I breathed a sigh of relief as the sun peaked its way through the clouds and some beautiful blue skies shone through. I also breathed heavy as I set off for 7 miles of solo riding at 20 mph to warm my body up in the chilly, 50 some degree air.

The final stretch into our campsite was a beauty. I could feel our distance to the mountains shrinking in a very surreal way. At the end of the day, we had ridden 49 miles at an average speed of 13 MPH with a max speed of 30.4 MPH. Now, in our secluded pine forest, we've already set up camp, bundled up in warm clothes, and filled ourselves with chili dogs, salad, and wine. The only thing left to do is eat s'mores and read myself to sleep.

Tomorrow should be beautiful, ending ten miles up into the mountains. It will also be a day with very little chance of internet service. So when you hear from me again, it's likely I'll have ridden my two wheels up and over the Cascade Mountains. Wish me luck!

Bike America Day 0: Crying, Clouds and Cod

I'm in Seattle and it is cloudy here. See above for evidence. It seems like much longer than 16 hours ago that Josh dropped me off at BWI airport. We were both nauseous and kind of quiet most of the ride but, as soon as we pulled up to the airport, I started crying uncontrollably. It was the weirdest thing. I will see Josh in a week so it wasn't so sad to leave him. I was just waiting for the moment when this all hit me and I guess that was it.

We said our goodbyes, I boarded the plane and had an uneventful flight to Seattle. I got off in this unfamiliar city and found my way downtown via light rail. I had about 4 hours to kill before my parents would meet me by car.

 I stopped in Seattle Coffee Works for some "earthy" coffee and a sandwich. It was only 1:15 Seattle time but, on my internal clock, it was past 4 and I was starving for lunch. While I waited for my coffee, a pilot named Ed commented that I looked like I was ready for some good touristing with my backpack and big camera. I told him about the bike trip and he was "in awe" of me. We talked for a while and he asked me to send him my blog.

After finishing up, I spent a few hours wandering around Pike Place Market, the location of the famous Seattle fish market. It was also full of crafts and local produce. I wasn't in the mood to shop but enjoyed the experience.

Endless supply of smoked salmon. This is my heaven.

Check out the steep incline on the right. Who knew Seattle was like San Francisco #2?!

The one other thing I knew I had to see, being so ready for touristing, as Ed pointed out, was the space needle. My handy iPhone let me know that it was just a mile away so I made the walk and saw more of the city streets on the way.

About twenty minutes after I got there, my parents showed up and I hopped in the car. We headed back to Pike's Place and ate at a seafood restaurant recommended to us by my uncle. My parents were eating all fancy but I went with straight carbo-loading: fried cod and "chips". All the food, especially my dad's fresh local salmon, was delicious.

We wandered into the very first Starbucks store there ever was and then came to our motel.

And here we are. Our bikes are ready to go and our clothes are laid out for the morning. It's only 8:30 PM pacific standard time but I'm ready to brush my teeth, read about the terrain and weather for tomorrow's quick 44 miles and then cuddle up in the last bed I'll sleep in for a while.

The long journey begins tomorrow and I more excited than ever to sit my but on a bike seat and pedal my heart out. Seattle was a friendly, and bike friendly, city but I'm ready to ride away from the clouds and into the middle of America! Here are some bike photos I snapped in the city today.

See Ya from the West Coast!

It's been incredibly hectic over here the past few weeks. I made these graphics on Monday night as my temporary sign-off from blogland but haven't had a minute to add text and publish them. I've been packing, working, sleeping and eating pretty exclusively. When work dies down next week, I'll be spending my free time sweating a little more and spending some final hours with loved ones who I won't see for a while.

Next time I blog, I'll be out west beginning a great, long journey. See you then and have a great weekend!

Weekend Recap Part II: Hot and Hilly Riding (a week late)

I began this post a week ago, after my Memorial Day bike ride with my dad. This was intended as Part II to the special surprise party post. But I have been a crazy person ever since, with barely a minute to relax, even on the weekend, so it has yet to be finished and published. I'm going to go ahead and post what I have from last week and I'm sorry for the delay.

Having stayed up past 3AM at my party on Sunday night, I caused my bike ride with my dad to start way later than we'd hoped. Our plan was to drive to Poolesville, MD and, from there, ride 53 miles to, up, and around Sugarloaf Mountain. My mom would follow a few hours after us in the car and ride her bike 15 miles to a town near the end of our ride and then ride the last 15 with us.

My dad and I didn't set out until a little before noon and rode the first 13 miles to the mountain without stopping much but once to pee and once for water. It was clear in the first mile that this ride was going to be hilly. For me, that was great because I love the challenge and excitement of a hill, both up and down. Flat terrain is much more boring. For my dad, though, they were somewhat of a wake-up-call that he hasn't been training as much as he should and that he needs to get himself in gear. When we got to the base of the mountain, he laid down in the grass while I took some pictures and searched for water. We ate some trail mix and began our ascent.

It is only about a mile and a half up the mountain and there are a lot of switchbacks but you are climbing steadily, and pretty steeply at some points, so there isn't any relief. Aside from the presence of cars trying to pass us on this narrow mountain road, I loved the ride up. We got to the top and took a peak at both the east and west views. It was pretty sweet but nothing that my camera, or my lacking photography skills, could capture.

The ride down the mountain was quick and fun. We continued on our journey, up and down many a hill, and came to a stop atop one long and steady one, at which point my dad claimed to be getting the chills. This happens to me sometimes when I'm pushing really hard on a run but I assume that it's not exactly a good sign, especially on a 100 degree day. We shared a gu, rested a while, and continued on. 

We rode about 6 more miles and then checked out our map. We found a shortcut that looked like it would cut 3-5 miles off the ride so we took it. The road that we turned on to avoid our planned route took us down a series of long hills into a deep valley. We got to the bottom and began riding on a gravel road alongside a creek. And we all know that what goes down must come up. It turned out that the hills out of the valley were much shorter than the ones in but they were much, much steeper. The first was pretty long and entirely gravel. I rode up it, mostly because I'm stubborn, and was going so slowly on the gravel that I thought I might skid and topple over many times. At the top of that hill there was a little downhill and then a sudden, extremely steep climb on pavement.

We met back up with our route and, scared by our shortness of water, pulled over as soon as we saw a hose on the side of a farmhouse. We knocked on the door and, when nobody answered, we decided that the safe thing to do was fill up our water bottles in their yard anyway.

The next stretch was entirely in the beating sun, on dark pavement. The thermometer on my bike computer reached 102 degrees but, strangely, I never felt overheated. We passed a cow pasture with many adorable calves and my dad yelled "Shade!", pulling over in a grassy, shady area ahead. He was suffering from heat exhaustion and I began to worry about him. His mouth started to turn white so he drank a lot of water, took a 20-30 minute nap, and seemed ready to ride again. We decided, again, to cut about five miles off of our ride and take the next road straight over to Route 28. When we got there, we sat in more, less pleasant shade and waited for my mom to ride in from the town she'd been waiting in. She showed up with sandwiches and bottles of gatorade. My dad claimed to feel instantly better after chugging some of the electolyte-filled liquid.

That is where I left off last week. The last 12 or so miles were fine. We were re-fueled and also cooler. Here is what the overall elevation looked like for the day.

But this ride was quite the wake-up call. For my dad, it made apparent how much more he should have trained. For me, it brought to light how mentally unprepared I might be for the trip. It made me realize how wholly excited I've been for the ride without really grasping how intense and hard it will be. Even though it wasn't too hard for me physically, it was hard for me to watch my dad's frustration at his lack of training. It was hard when I got really bad stomach cramps from a probably combination of hunger and dehydration and had no option but to keep sitting on a bike seat and to keep riding in the sun. It was hard to be scared, when my dad got so hot and de-hydrated that his mouth turned white, with the knowledge that we were very much in the middle of nowhere.

But at the same time, this ride was beautiful and fulfilling. The tough times on a bike ride are truly what make it special. It felt like we could be on day 1 of our cross country ride and I know with certainty that, had we been, we would have been wholly capable of cleaning off, setting up camp, cooking over a campfire, sleeping soundly, and waking up the next day to do it all over again. As painful and as tiresome as our ride may be some days, especially early on in the journey, I say with confidence, that it will be so worth ever minute. I am scared, overwhelmed, and somewhat in disbelief at the trip's proximity, but I am also unbelievably thrilled that, ten days from now, I'll be about ready to pass out after the very first long day of biking on my journey across America.