Along this seemingly endless prairie, things spring out of absolutely nowhere and nothing, like magic. Take, for example, Minot, North Dakota (why not?!). Now the home of a huge air force base, which is the dominant economic engine of the city, Minot sprung up literally overnight as a tent city during the construction of the Great Northern Railway. Within five months, the city grew to 5,000 residents, and gained its nickname as the "Magic City".
But the city exists in stark contrast to the prairie that surrounds it. Unlike some of the smaller towns we've passed through, which exist as more concentrated nodes along a huge farming and ranching network, Minot is an obsessed military town in polite, midwestern veil. Surrounded by more than 200 nuclear warheads, apparently armed and ready, Minot is probably more of a fortress than anything. According to a very affable member of the All Saints Episcopal Church (our host for two nights here), and former first lieutenant in the Air Force, we passed by several of them along our ride from Rugby yesterday, and will pass by more going to New Town tomorrow. These weapons of mass testosterone, capable of ending life on this planet as we know it, are apparently pretty nondescript, loitering along the roadside, enclosed by an electrified fence, marked with radioactive warnings.
Crossing the middle of nowhere yesterday, about 20 miles outside the city, I saw a huge airplane cross the sky at a relatively low altitude. Here, cropdusters and small craft are typically the only things that dot the sky. It was a B-52, one of several I have seen since arriving here. Minot AFB is one of only two bases in the country where the B-52 is housed. My god, there are far too many fun facts about this place, I'm not sure where to begin. But the library is closing and I'm being kicked out. We're on our way out of civilization for a while. Hopefully more blog postings will follow soon.
31 July 2008
28 July 2008
family photos
So I'm sitting here in the kitchen of trip leader Isaiah Berg's family's farm in rural North Dakota. It's Starkweather, to be exact, a tiny town of about 150 people, 26 miles north of Devils Lake, where we actually rode 116 miles into this afternoon. Upon arriving at a church there, where our bikes and gear are stored, we were trucked, vanned and school bussed up to the farm. Isaiah drove me and a few others up, along the way telling us everything he could about the countryside around us, frequently pointing to distant tree lines that he identifies with specific neighbors. We'll be staying here tonight, eating some good food, taking tractor rides, petting the horses (maybe milking the cows), and sleeping under the stars, if the sky decides to clear.
Its a small house, filled with more people than is probably safe (us and probably the entire town of Starkweather), but the land is huge. Isaiah told us that his family farms about 4,500 acres, in addition to the cattle and few horses they also raise(both for milk and beef). His family is incredibly nice, and along with his neighbors (i.e. the people that live within a 5 mile radius of him), they seem to be cooking up an amazing meal for us. Lining the wall are photos from Isaiah and his siblings younger years, as well as (auto?)biographical binders of each child's life. The one of Isaiah is pretty enjoyable. He's a smart kid, spelling bee champ and even Presidential Scholar (overachiever extraordinaire). But he photos are the most amusing.
There are people all surrounding me, some waiting to use the computer, so I'll end soon. The ride was nice, pretty fast, we had little wind, with the exception of a rare tailwind late in the day. There were a few incidents, however. At about mile 27, while in an incredibly fast paceline of 14 riders (averaging probably 22 mph), Quang hit a rock and took a massive spill right in front of me. I thought he was going to take me and the rest of the people behind me out, but he swerved into the road and we all managed to miss him. A disaster seemed imminent, but it was averted. Poor Quang though, it was his second spill of the trip. Then around mile 100, we ran into a bad thunderstorm and had to take cover under some lady's porch in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty scary, we were seeing lightning in the distance for probably 5-10 miles before the clouds got really low, the lightning got really close, and I thought I was going to die. Other people took refuge in a Dairy Queen, some beside a hay bail, and others stupidly rode through it. I don't know how they were so brave, my heart was pounding, and I was ducking ridiculously on my bike, thinking that somehow I would be safer if I moved my face closer to my handlebars. Anyway, we left at 6 this morning, and with a few unplanned delays, made it to Devils Lake at 2PM. I'd say that was a pretty good pace.
Its a small house, filled with more people than is probably safe (us and probably the entire town of Starkweather), but the land is huge. Isaiah told us that his family farms about 4,500 acres, in addition to the cattle and few horses they also raise(both for milk and beef). His family is incredibly nice, and along with his neighbors (i.e. the people that live within a 5 mile radius of him), they seem to be cooking up an amazing meal for us. Lining the wall are photos from Isaiah and his siblings younger years, as well as (auto?)biographical binders of each child's life. The one of Isaiah is pretty enjoyable. He's a smart kid, spelling bee champ and even Presidential Scholar (overachiever extraordinaire). But he photos are the most amusing.
There are people all surrounding me, some waiting to use the computer, so I'll end soon. The ride was nice, pretty fast, we had little wind, with the exception of a rare tailwind late in the day. There were a few incidents, however. At about mile 27, while in an incredibly fast paceline of 14 riders (averaging probably 22 mph), Quang hit a rock and took a massive spill right in front of me. I thought he was going to take me and the rest of the people behind me out, but he swerved into the road and we all managed to miss him. A disaster seemed imminent, but it was averted. Poor Quang though, it was his second spill of the trip. Then around mile 100, we ran into a bad thunderstorm and had to take cover under some lady's porch in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty scary, we were seeing lightning in the distance for probably 5-10 miles before the clouds got really low, the lightning got really close, and I thought I was going to die. Other people took refuge in a Dairy Queen, some beside a hay bail, and others stupidly rode through it. I don't know how they were so brave, my heart was pounding, and I was ducking ridiculously on my bike, thinking that somehow I would be safer if I moved my face closer to my handlebars. Anyway, we left at 6 this morning, and with a few unplanned delays, made it to Devils Lake at 2PM. I'd say that was a pretty good pace.
27 July 2008
G-flat
So here in Northern Minnesota...and North Dakota.....and Montana, the ground is flat, civilization is sparse, days are long, and the wind is not even close to being at our backs. To ensure a sane (and safe) arrival at our destination, we here at Bike and Build have devised a simple plan to prepare your mind, body, spirit, and bike for the road ahead.
All you need are a few things: anywhere from three to nine other people, a good road game, also a spare tube and Road Morph (the best compact tire pump in the world). Perhaps your bike, too. Now just follow these simple steps, and you're on your way to a fantastic 90 mile ride from Bemidji to Crookston, Minnesota!
1) Leave at 6:30AM, before the wind kicks up. And pray for no wind.
2) If the road is flat and you're in the middle of nowhere, don't ride alone. If the road is flat, you're in the middle of nowhere, AND there's a headwind (which is most often the case), stop your bike and wait for others to catch up. If no one is behind you, well then you're screwed.
3) In a small group of no more than eight...though ten is okay, but you're kinda stretching it....form what is called a double paceline. A paceline is a fancy term for a line of riders drafting off each other to minimize effort and maximize speed, the lead rider "pulling" all behind. Each rider lines up anywhere between 6 inches and 4 feet (the closer, the better) from the rider in front of her/him and maintains speed and distance for maximum drafting benefits. The "pulling" rider is responsible for calling out all road hazards, and notifying the riders behind of any change in speed that could cause tires to touch, and crashes to occur. These calls are passed back by each rider, and all react in a safe manner. If the shoulder is wide enough, and a game of Contact requires riders to be within earshot of all others, a double paceline should be ideal (a triple paceline is NEVER recommended). In a double paceline, half the line rides a safe distance next to the other half (more than a foot), and all are responsible for the safety of both lines.
3) A road game is also a nice distraction from the mundane world around you. As was mentioned before, play Contact.
4) Indeed it is flat here, but watch out for those flats! If the shoulder is filled with rocks and other debris, they often can creep up on you without warning. With rocks, the leaks are often slow and will not be realized for a while down the road. However, anything that could puncture your tire, like metal or glass, may require you to stop suddenly. Let your paceline know you are stopping before slamming on the breaks. Nobody likes crashing.
5) Take several short brakes. On a 90 mile day, it is important to keep your pace consistent (that means no napping), but not to burn the midnight oil at 11 o'clock in the morning. Eat many light meals: yogurt and cereal in the early morning, more yogurt and some egg bake after 35 miles, a peanut butter sandwich and banana at mile 70 or 75, and you will be well energized. And don't forget to hydrate, especially with Gatorade.
6) Make sure you've ridden 2,200 miles before attempting this.
Following this, while averaging 18.1 mph, should have you arriving at your destination around 12:40PM with a big smile on your face.
Best of luck.
All you need are a few things: anywhere from three to nine other people, a good road game, also a spare tube and Road Morph (the best compact tire pump in the world). Perhaps your bike, too. Now just follow these simple steps, and you're on your way to a fantastic 90 mile ride from Bemidji to Crookston, Minnesota!
1) Leave at 6:30AM, before the wind kicks up. And pray for no wind.
2) If the road is flat and you're in the middle of nowhere, don't ride alone. If the road is flat, you're in the middle of nowhere, AND there's a headwind (which is most often the case), stop your bike and wait for others to catch up. If no one is behind you, well then you're screwed.
3) In a small group of no more than eight...though ten is okay, but you're kinda stretching it....form what is called a double paceline. A paceline is a fancy term for a line of riders drafting off each other to minimize effort and maximize speed, the lead rider "pulling" all behind. Each rider lines up anywhere between 6 inches and 4 feet (the closer, the better) from the rider in front of her/him and maintains speed and distance for maximum drafting benefits. The "pulling" rider is responsible for calling out all road hazards, and notifying the riders behind of any change in speed that could cause tires to touch, and crashes to occur. These calls are passed back by each rider, and all react in a safe manner. If the shoulder is wide enough, and a game of Contact requires riders to be within earshot of all others, a double paceline should be ideal (a triple paceline is NEVER recommended). In a double paceline, half the line rides a safe distance next to the other half (more than a foot), and all are responsible for the safety of both lines.
3) A road game is also a nice distraction from the mundane world around you. As was mentioned before, play Contact.
4) Indeed it is flat here, but watch out for those flats! If the shoulder is filled with rocks and other debris, they often can creep up on you without warning. With rocks, the leaks are often slow and will not be realized for a while down the road. However, anything that could puncture your tire, like metal or glass, may require you to stop suddenly. Let your paceline know you are stopping before slamming on the breaks. Nobody likes crashing.
5) Take several short brakes. On a 90 mile day, it is important to keep your pace consistent (that means no napping), but not to burn the midnight oil at 11 o'clock in the morning. Eat many light meals: yogurt and cereal in the early morning, more yogurt and some egg bake after 35 miles, a peanut butter sandwich and banana at mile 70 or 75, and you will be well energized. And don't forget to hydrate, especially with Gatorade.
6) Make sure you've ridden 2,200 miles before attempting this.
Following this, while averaging 18.1 mph, should have you arriving at your destination around 12:40PM with a big smile on your face.
Best of luck.
25 July 2008
uphill...next 1,500 miles
After a very difficult day passing the 2,000 mile (halfway!) threshold, we've arrived in the birthplace of Judy Garland, Grand Rapids, Minnesota. And it's quite magical, I must say. The ride was a steep uphill out of Duluth for the first two or three miles...a nice warm up...then a rolling uphill for the next 40 (by rolling, I mean some steep, some shallow, almost no downhill). In fact, this is probably the only day we've had without a significant downhill after any steep climb. And then there was the wind...it was an exceptionally windy day, out of the west at probably 15-20 mph with gusts upwards of 30 or 35. Definitely the worst headwinds we've experienced all trip...there were times where I was pedaling as hard as possible, but going only 8 or 9 mph. Lets just say it sucked...there were several points where I was ready to take my bike and throw it off a cliff. Unfortunately, there are no cliffs to be had around these parts. And we spent 73 of our 85 miles on the same road...US 2...which we'll be on probably for the next 1,500 miles to Glacier NP. No joke. But we had a wonderful and worthwhile welcome at the church, where there fruit smoothies, crackers, cheese, hummus, and cookies. I really want another smoothie, now.
Not much to talk about. I ranted for a little bit yesterday, which was just posted below and is probably a more interesting read. Here in Grand Rapids, we will cross the Mississippi for the final time (it is really really small here, the source only about an hour away at Lake Itasca) and head to Bemidji, the heart of American curling.
FUN FACT: The Bemidji men's and women's curling teams have represented the US in the 2005 World Curling Championships and the 2006 Olympic Games, where the men's team won the bronze medal.
ANOTHER FUN FACT: Bike & Build's 2008 Northern United States tour is the first tour in the history of Bike & Build to make it 2,000 miles with EVERY rider (except trip leaders, who have to drive the van) biking EVERY SINGLE MILE of the trip (i.e. no van rides). That means NO serious illness, NO serious injuries, NO serious slacking, and PLENTY of motivation. I'm really impressed with everyone! Of course our goal is to make it the whole way...
Finally, RIP Randy Pausch. You are an inspiration.
Not much to talk about. I ranted for a little bit yesterday, which was just posted below and is probably a more interesting read. Here in Grand Rapids, we will cross the Mississippi for the final time (it is really really small here, the source only about an hour away at Lake Itasca) and head to Bemidji, the heart of American curling.
FUN FACT: The Bemidji men's and women's curling teams have represented the US in the 2005 World Curling Championships and the 2006 Olympic Games, where the men's team won the bronze medal.
ANOTHER FUN FACT: Bike & Build's 2008 Northern United States tour is the first tour in the history of Bike & Build to make it 2,000 miles with EVERY rider (except trip leaders, who have to drive the van) biking EVERY SINGLE MILE of the trip (i.e. no van rides). That means NO serious illness, NO serious injuries, NO serious slacking, and PLENTY of motivation. I'm really impressed with everyone! Of course our goal is to make it the whole way...
Finally, RIP Randy Pausch. You are an inspiration.
24 July 2008
impressionable youth
So I knew this whole experience was going to be different, but I guess I wasn’t so prepared for the effect it was going to have on me.
I just spent the past hour stressing to my friend Alex about how important the whole mission of this trip has become to me, however upon returning to Michigan in early September, how powerless I will yet again feel about the way I’m working (and to an extent, the way I’m thinking). It’s an incredibly overwhelming feeling, to believe so much in the need for various social, environmental, economic (etc.) justices vis-à-vis the built environment, but know that your work is pandering to something much more abstract. Never more than today have I understood the chasm between academia and mere mortality, and never more have I felt the two so irreconcilable. And it worries me to no end. Worries me that I will never have the kind of impact I want to have on this earth, worries me that I will never be able to ground my abstract tendencies, and worries me worse that I will constantly problematize the world around me, never seeing anything as working toward something better.
Today, for about five minutes, I was ready to drop out of school, give up on delayed gratification, for a few people who seemed so happy, so content, so resolved. These are people I am not normally familiar with. We are in Duluth, Minnesota, and today we did work with a local housing group called Common Ground, which is a land trust organization, that does a variety of things to bring high quality homes to individuals that normally could not afford them. That sounds a lot like Habitat, right, but it’s actually very different. A land trust, rather than selling the entire house and property to the owner, like Habitat, retains ownership of the land underneath the house, leasing it to the owner when they purchase the house. This both reduces the costs passed down to the owner, including not having to pay property taxes, and allows the homes to be of typically much higher quality than a Habitat home. Add in government subsidies, other grants, an array of product donations and pro-bono labor, and a $210,000 market-value home can be sold to someone of lower income for $145,000. And some of the benefits to affordability come in the way the house’s value changes over time. Because the land is not owned, the house instead actually depreciates in value, like any other commodity, and is therefore able to be re-sold to other low income individuals for even less. So the assumption is that all the equity is actually stored in the land, something that the land trust has control of. It’s a bit complicated, but you might be thinking, “wait, Sean, isn’t the point of owning a house to make an investment, to build equity, and by not owning the land, aren’t these people effectively making out like they would when purchasing a car?” Well, yes it is to build equity, and Common Ground actually has it written into their purchase agreement that any owner will receive the benefit of 30% of any increase in the assessed value of the home. This allows the homes to remain affordable once they are resold (one land trust home recently re-sold for $39,000, about 33% of its market value), and allow all savings from the subsidies, grants, donations and labor to be recycled and have even more of an impact on affordability. At the same time, the land trust is building its own equity (less 30%) by retaining the land. It’s an interesting system, one that is both encouraging and worrying.
So in the morning, I was hooked. I thought land trusts were the future of affordable housing, and they might very well be. But I’m still concerned that they reinforce ever disconcerting American spatial and material cultures. All these less fortunate people are able achieve is being able to have the same things that their wealthier brethren would have been able to afford on their own. Sure, it is a way of leveling the playing field, so to speak, but this specific land trust was doing nothing to begin to rethink the very obstinate way of the American Dream. To me, the concept of affordable housing has less to do with lowering costs to make better, nicer, bigger things accessible more people. Rather, it has more to do with the more value-driven issue of housing equity, something that privileges social change over a systematic material dependency.
We, as Americans, have a problem with cities that we cannot resolve, both personally and (as a result) logistically. We, as Americans, value too much our personal bubbles. We, as Americans, do not understand that grass was never meant for trimming. And as a result, we refuse to make certain compromises, compromises that might actually allow us to live equally wholesome lives in a much more environmentally and socially respectful manner. But instead, we live in an economy that has completely manipulated our value system; an economy that has completely structured the way we are able distinguish ourselves from, and often paradoxically associate ourselves with, everyone else; an economy that values quantity, often as a measure of quality, but always as a measure of privilege.
And so my academic dilemma. For five minutes today, my heart grew so big for the people I was surrounded by. Why? Because they were happy…certainly happier than me, and probably happier than they’d ever been in their lives. To those receiving these houses, a roof over their head is all they need, and a nice roof is even better. They have known what it is like to have little, perhaps even nothing, and are therefore incredibly grateful for such an overwhelming validation of their importance in this society. And every day the land trust employees and volunteers take pleasure in seeing someone else’s gratitude for all the work they do. For five minutes, their joy was enough to make me forget all the work we have left to do, the revolution that still needs to occur before I’m happy (which might be never). And, in all honesty, I’ve felt pretty empowered by the work I’ve been doing on the trip. Beside myself, other people actually believe I’m doing something valuable, productive, and even helpful! But, when I go back to the academic world, I feel like I’m going to effectively stagnate for another year, as I collect some pseudo-intellectual dust. Beside my own, I will no longer have such control of other people’s destinies, which is never enough for me to feel like I’m doing something valuable, much less productive. And as a result of this adventure, I feel like I will have even less incentive to work toward any sort of artificial abstraction most often required in something so important as a final thesis.
The world I am living in this summer is so unbelievably different than the one I have been living in for the past six years, and will be for at least another year. And to attempt to reconcile the two seems overwhelming and completely impossible. My personal and academic values are coming into deep conflict, at this very moment. The stress builds, my eyes grow bloodshot, tears are shed, and I eventually collapse in exhaustion.
The next day, I get up and ride 85 miles.
I just spent the past hour stressing to my friend Alex about how important the whole mission of this trip has become to me, however upon returning to Michigan in early September, how powerless I will yet again feel about the way I’m working (and to an extent, the way I’m thinking). It’s an incredibly overwhelming feeling, to believe so much in the need for various social, environmental, economic (etc.) justices vis-à-vis the built environment, but know that your work is pandering to something much more abstract. Never more than today have I understood the chasm between academia and mere mortality, and never more have I felt the two so irreconcilable. And it worries me to no end. Worries me that I will never have the kind of impact I want to have on this earth, worries me that I will never be able to ground my abstract tendencies, and worries me worse that I will constantly problematize the world around me, never seeing anything as working toward something better.
Today, for about five minutes, I was ready to drop out of school, give up on delayed gratification, for a few people who seemed so happy, so content, so resolved. These are people I am not normally familiar with. We are in Duluth, Minnesota, and today we did work with a local housing group called Common Ground, which is a land trust organization, that does a variety of things to bring high quality homes to individuals that normally could not afford them. That sounds a lot like Habitat, right, but it’s actually very different. A land trust, rather than selling the entire house and property to the owner, like Habitat, retains ownership of the land underneath the house, leasing it to the owner when they purchase the house. This both reduces the costs passed down to the owner, including not having to pay property taxes, and allows the homes to be of typically much higher quality than a Habitat home. Add in government subsidies, other grants, an array of product donations and pro-bono labor, and a $210,000 market-value home can be sold to someone of lower income for $145,000. And some of the benefits to affordability come in the way the house’s value changes over time. Because the land is not owned, the house instead actually depreciates in value, like any other commodity, and is therefore able to be re-sold to other low income individuals for even less. So the assumption is that all the equity is actually stored in the land, something that the land trust has control of. It’s a bit complicated, but you might be thinking, “wait, Sean, isn’t the point of owning a house to make an investment, to build equity, and by not owning the land, aren’t these people effectively making out like they would when purchasing a car?” Well, yes it is to build equity, and Common Ground actually has it written into their purchase agreement that any owner will receive the benefit of 30% of any increase in the assessed value of the home. This allows the homes to remain affordable once they are resold (one land trust home recently re-sold for $39,000, about 33% of its market value), and allow all savings from the subsidies, grants, donations and labor to be recycled and have even more of an impact on affordability. At the same time, the land trust is building its own equity (less 30%) by retaining the land. It’s an interesting system, one that is both encouraging and worrying.
So in the morning, I was hooked. I thought land trusts were the future of affordable housing, and they might very well be. But I’m still concerned that they reinforce ever disconcerting American spatial and material cultures. All these less fortunate people are able achieve is being able to have the same things that their wealthier brethren would have been able to afford on their own. Sure, it is a way of leveling the playing field, so to speak, but this specific land trust was doing nothing to begin to rethink the very obstinate way of the American Dream. To me, the concept of affordable housing has less to do with lowering costs to make better, nicer, bigger things accessible more people. Rather, it has more to do with the more value-driven issue of housing equity, something that privileges social change over a systematic material dependency.
We, as Americans, have a problem with cities that we cannot resolve, both personally and (as a result) logistically. We, as Americans, value too much our personal bubbles. We, as Americans, do not understand that grass was never meant for trimming. And as a result, we refuse to make certain compromises, compromises that might actually allow us to live equally wholesome lives in a much more environmentally and socially respectful manner. But instead, we live in an economy that has completely manipulated our value system; an economy that has completely structured the way we are able distinguish ourselves from, and often paradoxically associate ourselves with, everyone else; an economy that values quantity, often as a measure of quality, but always as a measure of privilege.
And so my academic dilemma. For five minutes today, my heart grew so big for the people I was surrounded by. Why? Because they were happy…certainly happier than me, and probably happier than they’d ever been in their lives. To those receiving these houses, a roof over their head is all they need, and a nice roof is even better. They have known what it is like to have little, perhaps even nothing, and are therefore incredibly grateful for such an overwhelming validation of their importance in this society. And every day the land trust employees and volunteers take pleasure in seeing someone else’s gratitude for all the work they do. For five minutes, their joy was enough to make me forget all the work we have left to do, the revolution that still needs to occur before I’m happy (which might be never). And, in all honesty, I’ve felt pretty empowered by the work I’ve been doing on the trip. Beside myself, other people actually believe I’m doing something valuable, productive, and even helpful! But, when I go back to the academic world, I feel like I’m going to effectively stagnate for another year, as I collect some pseudo-intellectual dust. Beside my own, I will no longer have such control of other people’s destinies, which is never enough for me to feel like I’m doing something valuable, much less productive. And as a result of this adventure, I feel like I will have even less incentive to work toward any sort of artificial abstraction most often required in something so important as a final thesis.
The world I am living in this summer is so unbelievably different than the one I have been living in for the past six years, and will be for at least another year. And to attempt to reconcile the two seems overwhelming and completely impossible. My personal and academic values are coming into deep conflict, at this very moment. The stress builds, my eyes grow bloodshot, tears are shed, and I eventually collapse in exhaustion.
The next day, I get up and ride 85 miles.
22 July 2008
out there, on the edge of the prairie
I encountered a very large man along the ride today.
The great prairies and pine forests of Minnesota are his home, over which he seems to look with pride. That's where we are, Hinckley, Minnesota, in the east-central portion of the state. Things have flattened out again, and we are now somewhere in the range of tall prairie grass to even taller pine trees (we are in Pine County, after all). Hinckley is one of those small midwestern towns that only people like Garrison Keillor ever tell you about. Though beset with economic troubles, the town still seems to maintain an inflated sense of itself, most visibly by means of the Grand Casino, a flashy steel frame standing amidst arguably more pervasive rural poverty.
I have to make this one quick, as the library is closing in 5 minutes, but I haven't posted anything in a while, so I suppose 'tis time. We had a great ride today, along a bike trail for 22 miles, and some nice wide shouldered roads. We were traveling north and east for most of the day, and of course there was an east wind. Probably the only day of the year the wind is out of the east, which also happened to be one of the few days we're actually travelling east. Figures.
Okay, gotta run, the librarian is kicking me out. We'll be riding to Duluth tomorrow, and staying for another day to build.
19 July 2008
bad day, good day
The hills are back.
So we left a relaxing time in Madison for a ride that was supposed to be a mere 102 miles to Gays Mills, with some hills, and maybe some rain. We started out having a pretty smooth ride on some great country roads, until about 26 of the 30 of us realized we were waaay off course...some had gone more off than others, but all 26 of us ended up going at least 14 miles out of the way (some over 20) because one of the country roads we were supposed to turn on was not marked. After about 30 minutes of trying to figure out where we were and where we needed to go, we finally got back in the saddle, and back on course about 30 minutes later. As a result, our lunch stop was a bit earlier on the course than planned (46 on my odometer), just because some people had already gone over 50 miles on the day. After lunch, a typo on our cue sheet (the piece of paper with our route directions) sent us the wrong way on another country road, sending us only about a half mile or so off course before we realized the problem, asked some locals, and turned ourselves around (when you realize you are traveling east on this trip, you know something must be wrong). The day was getting long, there was no rain in sight, only blistering sun, which meant no means for cooling off our sweltering bodies. At mile 92 on my odometer, we had another break, and immediately following that break, I missed a turn and sent myself another half mile on the wrong road before realizing I had to turn back. In all, what was supposed to only be 102 turned into 120 miles, and after leaving Madison around 7:30 in the morning, I finally arrived in Gays Mills at 6:30 in the evening. ELEVEN HOURS. The sweeps didn't make it in until 8:00. The last 20 miles felt probably longer than the previous 100.
To make matters worse, it was hot, and there were tons of hills. We had three very steep climbs, most all toward the end of the day, and another long, steady climb even closer to the end. We also had two steep descents, one toward the end, and the second upon arrival into Gays Mills. It is not good to have steep downhills at the end of a long day. Our bodies are exhausted enough, but our mental strength is incredibly weak too, making the downhills as much of a challenge as the uphills, in addition to a serious safety risk. But we all made it, no serious human injuries to speak of (some bike injuries though).
Oh yeah, and I crashed again. I have no idea how it happened, I was doing and feeling so well...it was around mile 25 on the day (right before we realized we were lost and the day went from good to terrible), I was cruising uphill at around 22 mph, and I just lost control of my bike and fell over, messing up my beautiful new white handlebar tape. It was pretty hilarious in retrospect, but I did scrape up my right shoulder, arm, and hand. Fortunately it did not exacerbate my previous injury any more.
Anyway, today. Today was good, really good. We left Gays Mills and almost immediately had a long, steep uphill climb. I would find out at lunch that we climbed at an 11% grade, which is pretty steep. I felt good, and rode as hard as I could all the way to the top, at which point, there was an unbelievable view of the town about 1,000 feet down. It was a really great sense of accomplishment to set a pretty positive tone for the rest of the day. We rode through three states today, crossing into Iowa, and riding along the Mississippi River up through Minnesota for a while, then back across and into La Crosse. We actually spent most of the day in those two states, stopping for lunch in New Albin, Iowa. The roads were a little bumpy, but I felt like I was cruising the entire day. My energy level was good, my legs felt a bit tired but strong, and there was no wind to speak of. I think I had one of my faster days...at times, I noticed myself cruising up a hill at 24 mph, which is pretty nice. With the exception of the big hill and other rolling hills in the beginning, and some city riding at the end, I think I was probably averaging somewhere around 19 or 20 mph, which is a really nice feeling. In headwinds, its hard to get over 14 or 15 mph, and in yesterdays long ride of rolling hills, I know I averaged only 15.6 mph. So today was really nice. The sun was out, after the morning clouds burned off, and it was hot, but it didn't bother me as much as yesterday.
So we're in La Crosse now, it seems like a really nice town. Too bad there isn't much time to check it out. Anyway, I have to go now. We have a meeting in 10 minutes, then dinner, then some chores. To Pepin, WI tomorrow, more riding along the Mississippi, then St Paul on Monday, and more riding along the Mississippi.
So we left a relaxing time in Madison for a ride that was supposed to be a mere 102 miles to Gays Mills, with some hills, and maybe some rain. We started out having a pretty smooth ride on some great country roads, until about 26 of the 30 of us realized we were waaay off course...some had gone more off than others, but all 26 of us ended up going at least 14 miles out of the way (some over 20) because one of the country roads we were supposed to turn on was not marked. After about 30 minutes of trying to figure out where we were and where we needed to go, we finally got back in the saddle, and back on course about 30 minutes later. As a result, our lunch stop was a bit earlier on the course than planned (46 on my odometer), just because some people had already gone over 50 miles on the day. After lunch, a typo on our cue sheet (the piece of paper with our route directions) sent us the wrong way on another country road, sending us only about a half mile or so off course before we realized the problem, asked some locals, and turned ourselves around (when you realize you are traveling east on this trip, you know something must be wrong). The day was getting long, there was no rain in sight, only blistering sun, which meant no means for cooling off our sweltering bodies. At mile 92 on my odometer, we had another break, and immediately following that break, I missed a turn and sent myself another half mile on the wrong road before realizing I had to turn back. In all, what was supposed to only be 102 turned into 120 miles, and after leaving Madison around 7:30 in the morning, I finally arrived in Gays Mills at 6:30 in the evening. ELEVEN HOURS. The sweeps didn't make it in until 8:00. The last 20 miles felt probably longer than the previous 100.
To make matters worse, it was hot, and there were tons of hills. We had three very steep climbs, most all toward the end of the day, and another long, steady climb even closer to the end. We also had two steep descents, one toward the end, and the second upon arrival into Gays Mills. It is not good to have steep downhills at the end of a long day. Our bodies are exhausted enough, but our mental strength is incredibly weak too, making the downhills as much of a challenge as the uphills, in addition to a serious safety risk. But we all made it, no serious human injuries to speak of (some bike injuries though).
Oh yeah, and I crashed again. I have no idea how it happened, I was doing and feeling so well...it was around mile 25 on the day (right before we realized we were lost and the day went from good to terrible), I was cruising uphill at around 22 mph, and I just lost control of my bike and fell over, messing up my beautiful new white handlebar tape. It was pretty hilarious in retrospect, but I did scrape up my right shoulder, arm, and hand. Fortunately it did not exacerbate my previous injury any more.
Anyway, today. Today was good, really good. We left Gays Mills and almost immediately had a long, steep uphill climb. I would find out at lunch that we climbed at an 11% grade, which is pretty steep. I felt good, and rode as hard as I could all the way to the top, at which point, there was an unbelievable view of the town about 1,000 feet down. It was a really great sense of accomplishment to set a pretty positive tone for the rest of the day. We rode through three states today, crossing into Iowa, and riding along the Mississippi River up through Minnesota for a while, then back across and into La Crosse. We actually spent most of the day in those two states, stopping for lunch in New Albin, Iowa. The roads were a little bumpy, but I felt like I was cruising the entire day. My energy level was good, my legs felt a bit tired but strong, and there was no wind to speak of. I think I had one of my faster days...at times, I noticed myself cruising up a hill at 24 mph, which is pretty nice. With the exception of the big hill and other rolling hills in the beginning, and some city riding at the end, I think I was probably averaging somewhere around 19 or 20 mph, which is a really nice feeling. In headwinds, its hard to get over 14 or 15 mph, and in yesterdays long ride of rolling hills, I know I averaged only 15.6 mph. So today was really nice. The sun was out, after the morning clouds burned off, and it was hot, but it didn't bother me as much as yesterday.
So we're in La Crosse now, it seems like a really nice town. Too bad there isn't much time to check it out. Anyway, I have to go now. We have a meeting in 10 minutes, then dinner, then some chores. To Pepin, WI tomorrow, more riding along the Mississippi, then St Paul on Monday, and more riding along the Mississippi.
17 July 2008
All your oxen have died.
Date: July 17, 2008 (or 1848)
Weather: hot
Health: good
Food: 500 pounds
Next Landmark: Gays Mills, Wisconsin
Miles Traveled: 1,440
Press SPACE BAR to continue.
The great frontier of America awaits us. We know not what dangers we will encounter on our journey across the Great American Desert, but we hear of great abundance, wealth, and prosperity out West. We hear the vast lands preceding our destination begin as flat, barren, and windswept, then advance into great mountains, savage lands that have taken men both in altitude and climate. But we are pioneers of men, we are risk-takers, and our wagon train, 32 carriages in all, is well-equipped to make the journey in a short six weeks.
A great rain has left the heartland under devastating floods. Though our weather has been generally good thus far, we have been witness to the saturation born by the rains of June and early July. Farmland is flooded (now marshland), crops are destroyed, and rivers are nearly overflowing into town centers. Weeks later, I begin to imagine the devastation that must have ensued directly following the rain. Yesterday we were forced to ford a flooded portion of our path. Shoes and socks removed, we traversed about 200 yards in high ankle-deep stagnant water, teeming with algae, mosquitoes, and potential disease. We have also heard of the inevitabilities of such diseases, and have all survived a mild plague, however the risks were never more present in our minds than at that moment. There was talk of ringworm, malaria, and even the dreaded cholera. But, a day later, we've arrived in Madison and all seem healthy.
Okay, my chronicles of a pioneer are now over. I will begin to speak like a normal 21st century twentysomething. Dude, we're in Madison, man its rad. What? Okay, well it is pretty cool. Since arriving here less than 24 hours ago, I've spent most of my time trying to compare it with Ann Arbor, since they are very similar towns, and have concluded that I like Madison a lot more. So basically both towns have the exact same demographics, very large, very liberal activist college-towns whose economies revolve around and are spun off of the dominating educational institutions (for those who aren't aware, the University of Wisconsin-Madison is located here). Madison has the added demographic of state and federal government agencies, as it is also the state capital. But their difference lies in the overwhelming attitude of the populous, and here in Madtown (as the locals refer to it), that attitude seems much more laid back and down-to-earth. Unlike Ann Arbor, who is a small dog trying to fit into big dog shoes, Madison is not ashamed of its small town, Midwestern roots. It is a small town at heart, things are more local, more independent, less uptight/pretentious, and much more proud.
Madison is also one of the most well-planned cities I have ever been to, mostly because it is one of the few cities in the country that has succeeded in integrating cycling traffic with the rest of the commuter lifestyle. In one city, I have never seen so many bike paths and trails, and I almost wonder why anyone bothers to use a car here. Something that would never fly in Ann Arbor, although it wouldn't hurt for them to try. It is a bit of an elongated city too, as the main section of downtown, including the capitol building, is wedged between two lakes, Monoa and Mendota. The university, of which I have only seen a small part at night, stretches along Mendota. The main business drag, State Street, was once a four-lane road, but was converted into a pedestrian (and cyclist) mall in 1974 (right after the first oil crisis, nonetheless). It's pretty fascinating, and is something I wished they'd to to Main, State, or even Liberty in Ann Arbor. The other great thing about Madison is all their independent coffee shops, interesting kitsch stores, and ICE CREAM locales. We are in the land of dairy, after all. I'm sitting at the Mermaid Cafe, a great little shop across the street from the church we are staying at for two nights. I didn't try their coffee, of course, but I did have an amazing sandwich called Schenk's Corners...seasoned scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese (everything in Wisconsin is eaten with cheddar), sauteed red peppers and onions, and fresh basil, on a focaccia. I don't know why, but I just have to rave about this place for a little while, because the food and atmosphere are great. Something you surely don't get at the massive coffee shops in A2. No Sweetwaters here, although they do have Espresso Royale, and I think I've only seen one Starbucks. They do local well here.
We have a day off here, as you might already know, and I think I'm just going to take my time to walk and bike around the city. Take advantage of all the bike lanes and trails for sure. There is a bike shop that I MUST visit, its called Machinery Row, and looks like the coolest place in the world...perhaps even cooler than Two Wheel Tango, which will be tough to beat. There are also a bunch of other really good shops (within downtown limits, which Ann Arbor can hardly say for itself). And about 25 miles from here is the headquarters and main manufacturing plant for Trek, so they also have a huge dealership here. In any case, I'm headed to Machinery Row, then to some of the shops on State Street, maybe a stop beforehand for lunch at Chipotle (though I could easily eat here at Mermaid), and then a romp through UW, and maybe their arboretum. I dont know, we'll see.
We have a long ride to Gays Mills tomorrow, a small town somewhere far west of here, along the Kickapoo River, and has recently been devastated by two floods only 10 months apart. There was an interesting article in written about Gays Mills in the Chicago Tribune at the end of June. (Here is the link) It speaks of the town's consideration to move to higher ground, at the encouragement of FEMA, and the disapproval of many residents. Perhaps, when we get there and get to talk to some of the people, we'll be able to get a better sense of the implications of the move, and all that it has to do with our own mission. Specifically, the ramifications of trying to recreate the same town, the same environment, for the same people, potentially miles away. This proposed move would certainly conflict with the more organic process of human settlement.
Westward ho.
Weather: hot
Health: good
Food: 500 pounds
Next Landmark: Gays Mills, Wisconsin
Miles Traveled: 1,440
Press SPACE BAR to continue.
The great frontier of America awaits us. We know not what dangers we will encounter on our journey across the Great American Desert, but we hear of great abundance, wealth, and prosperity out West. We hear the vast lands preceding our destination begin as flat, barren, and windswept, then advance into great mountains, savage lands that have taken men both in altitude and climate. But we are pioneers of men, we are risk-takers, and our wagon train, 32 carriages in all, is well-equipped to make the journey in a short six weeks.
A great rain has left the heartland under devastating floods. Though our weather has been generally good thus far, we have been witness to the saturation born by the rains of June and early July. Farmland is flooded (now marshland), crops are destroyed, and rivers are nearly overflowing into town centers. Weeks later, I begin to imagine the devastation that must have ensued directly following the rain. Yesterday we were forced to ford a flooded portion of our path. Shoes and socks removed, we traversed about 200 yards in high ankle-deep stagnant water, teeming with algae, mosquitoes, and potential disease. We have also heard of the inevitabilities of such diseases, and have all survived a mild plague, however the risks were never more present in our minds than at that moment. There was talk of ringworm, malaria, and even the dreaded cholera. But, a day later, we've arrived in Madison and all seem healthy.
Okay, my chronicles of a pioneer are now over. I will begin to speak like a normal 21st century twentysomething. Dude, we're in Madison, man its rad. What? Okay, well it is pretty cool. Since arriving here less than 24 hours ago, I've spent most of my time trying to compare it with Ann Arbor, since they are very similar towns, and have concluded that I like Madison a lot more. So basically both towns have the exact same demographics, very large, very liberal activist college-towns whose economies revolve around and are spun off of the dominating educational institutions (for those who aren't aware, the University of Wisconsin-Madison is located here). Madison has the added demographic of state and federal government agencies, as it is also the state capital. But their difference lies in the overwhelming attitude of the populous, and here in Madtown (as the locals refer to it), that attitude seems much more laid back and down-to-earth. Unlike Ann Arbor, who is a small dog trying to fit into big dog shoes, Madison is not ashamed of its small town, Midwestern roots. It is a small town at heart, things are more local, more independent, less uptight/pretentious, and much more proud.
Madison is also one of the most well-planned cities I have ever been to, mostly because it is one of the few cities in the country that has succeeded in integrating cycling traffic with the rest of the commuter lifestyle. In one city, I have never seen so many bike paths and trails, and I almost wonder why anyone bothers to use a car here. Something that would never fly in Ann Arbor, although it wouldn't hurt for them to try. It is a bit of an elongated city too, as the main section of downtown, including the capitol building, is wedged between two lakes, Monoa and Mendota. The university, of which I have only seen a small part at night, stretches along Mendota. The main business drag, State Street, was once a four-lane road, but was converted into a pedestrian (and cyclist) mall in 1974 (right after the first oil crisis, nonetheless). It's pretty fascinating, and is something I wished they'd to to Main, State, or even Liberty in Ann Arbor. The other great thing about Madison is all their independent coffee shops, interesting kitsch stores, and ICE CREAM locales. We are in the land of dairy, after all. I'm sitting at the Mermaid Cafe, a great little shop across the street from the church we are staying at for two nights. I didn't try their coffee, of course, but I did have an amazing sandwich called Schenk's Corners...seasoned scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese (everything in Wisconsin is eaten with cheddar), sauteed red peppers and onions, and fresh basil, on a focaccia. I don't know why, but I just have to rave about this place for a little while, because the food and atmosphere are great. Something you surely don't get at the massive coffee shops in A2. No Sweetwaters here, although they do have Espresso Royale, and I think I've only seen one Starbucks. They do local well here.
We have a day off here, as you might already know, and I think I'm just going to take my time to walk and bike around the city. Take advantage of all the bike lanes and trails for sure. There is a bike shop that I MUST visit, its called Machinery Row, and looks like the coolest place in the world...perhaps even cooler than Two Wheel Tango, which will be tough to beat. There are also a bunch of other really good shops (within downtown limits, which Ann Arbor can hardly say for itself). And about 25 miles from here is the headquarters and main manufacturing plant for Trek, so they also have a huge dealership here. In any case, I'm headed to Machinery Row, then to some of the shops on State Street, maybe a stop beforehand for lunch at Chipotle (though I could easily eat here at Mermaid), and then a romp through UW, and maybe their arboretum. I dont know, we'll see.
We have a long ride to Gays Mills tomorrow, a small town somewhere far west of here, along the Kickapoo River, and has recently been devastated by two floods only 10 months apart. There was an interesting article in written about Gays Mills in the Chicago Tribune at the end of June. (Here is the link) It speaks of the town's consideration to move to higher ground, at the encouragement of FEMA, and the disapproval of many residents. Perhaps, when we get there and get to talk to some of the people, we'll be able to get a better sense of the implications of the move, and all that it has to do with our own mission. Specifically, the ramifications of trying to recreate the same town, the same environment, for the same people, potentially miles away. This proposed move would certainly conflict with the more organic process of human settlement.
Westward ho.
14 July 2008
97 + 94 + 81 + 113 + 0 + 40
= 425 miles
in six days,
from suburban Cleveland, through Chicago, to Grayslake,
on a bike....are you serious?!
I MAYBE put 425 miles on my car in one month.
But we're through Chicago, and in the midst of a brief riding lull. Trying to rest up before our seeming sprint through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota and Montana. In the three days following Chicago, we'll travel only 170 miles, and have yet another rest day in Madison before another six-day stretch of over 450 miles.
That's right, I said 113 miles (on account of a detour we had to make leaving Edwardsburg, at which time we weaved in and out and back into Indiana a bit more) to Chicago to cap a four-day stretch of long-ass rides. My quads have never hurt so much in my life, but it was so worth it. We got to Chicago, and basically crashed to the floor of the church. Saturday night, upon arrival, most of us attempted to go out to explore the city, and most succeeded only to the point that our bodies would allow us. Which meant that we were all dragging, downtown to where I and several others went to Millennium Park to watch the apparently weekly fireworks over the lake. We witnessed "Cloud Gate", and dragged ourselves to a restaurant for some second dinner food. Perhaps one of these days I will write about all the amazing food we have been eating on the trip, but lets just say for now that it is not uncommon to have two, sometimes three lunches, and often two dinners (or at least two platefuls worth). Anyway, we all looked like zombies. On the L ride back to our host in Ravenswood (brown line, Montrose stop), I don't think there was a single person that didn't completely pass out. It was quite a scene, in fact. Imagine about 13 people all asleep next to or near each other in the midst of a transit ride.
The next day was a little better, after a morning doing other people's chores and assisting in a presentation to the church and bike "clinic", Laura (Maki), Sharon, Kate, Isaiah and I went in to the city for some more feet-dragging. We played tourists for a while: buying some kitsch, taking pictures of things, going to the top of the Hancock Center, and eating the best deep-dish pizza ever made (Giordano's, we got extra and had it for lunch today). But probably the most relaxing thing done was napping in the grass of a small Vietnam veterans memorial park along the Chicago River. I find I spend a lot of time enjoying napping/lying in grass on this trip.
I'm beginning to realize this is a very inarticulate post. Alas, I'm still tired. I actually haven't had a full-night sleep in weeks (by that, I mean at least 7 hours, only semi-interrupted). As a result, I have only enough energy to devote to riding, much less to actually thinking, then the rest of the day is kind of screwed.
So I will end this pitiful post soon, but I just wanted to mention our ride today. It was freaking amazing, despite the terrible roads. We rode through probably the most unbelievable display of wealth I have ever seen in my life. We were on the north side of Chicago, which is known for being one of the wealthiest places in the country. We rode through Winnetka and Glencoe, which are two of the top 10 wealthiest places in the country, as well as Wilmette and Highland Park, where I unexpectedly stumbled upon FLW's Ward Willits House. It was unmarked, and I was baffled, because I knew it looked SOOO familiar, and I knew it had to be an FLW, but I wasn't sure. So these houses, oh my god, I can't even tell you how sprawling they are. Amazing and absolutely disgusting at the same time. However with all that disposable income, they still cannot manage to maintain their roads properly, instead they were full of potholes, cracks, and bumps. And now we're in Grayslake, a not so financially fortunate, but still rather wealthy, distant suburb of Chicago. We're at the Wildwood Presbyterian Church, which is definately the snazziest church we've stayed in so far. Snazzy, because it is brand new, really huge, and really comfy. Of course our snazziest sleeping accommodations were still at Avon Lake :)
My first time in Wisconsin will be tomorrow. Until the next post, I hope you all will forget I've written this crappy thing. Goodnight.
in six days,
from suburban Cleveland, through Chicago, to Grayslake,
on a bike....are you serious?!
I MAYBE put 425 miles on my car in one month.
But we're through Chicago, and in the midst of a brief riding lull. Trying to rest up before our seeming sprint through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota and Montana. In the three days following Chicago, we'll travel only 170 miles, and have yet another rest day in Madison before another six-day stretch of over 450 miles.
That's right, I said 113 miles (on account of a detour we had to make leaving Edwardsburg, at which time we weaved in and out and back into Indiana a bit more) to Chicago to cap a four-day stretch of long-ass rides. My quads have never hurt so much in my life, but it was so worth it. We got to Chicago, and basically crashed to the floor of the church. Saturday night, upon arrival, most of us attempted to go out to explore the city, and most succeeded only to the point that our bodies would allow us. Which meant that we were all dragging, downtown to where I and several others went to Millennium Park to watch the apparently weekly fireworks over the lake. We witnessed "Cloud Gate", and dragged ourselves to a restaurant for some second dinner food. Perhaps one of these days I will write about all the amazing food we have been eating on the trip, but lets just say for now that it is not uncommon to have two, sometimes three lunches, and often two dinners (or at least two platefuls worth). Anyway, we all looked like zombies. On the L ride back to our host in Ravenswood (brown line, Montrose stop), I don't think there was a single person that didn't completely pass out. It was quite a scene, in fact. Imagine about 13 people all asleep next to or near each other in the midst of a transit ride.
The next day was a little better, after a morning doing other people's chores and assisting in a presentation to the church and bike "clinic", Laura (Maki), Sharon, Kate, Isaiah and I went in to the city for some more feet-dragging. We played tourists for a while: buying some kitsch, taking pictures of things, going to the top of the Hancock Center, and eating the best deep-dish pizza ever made (Giordano's, we got extra and had it for lunch today). But probably the most relaxing thing done was napping in the grass of a small Vietnam veterans memorial park along the Chicago River. I find I spend a lot of time enjoying napping/lying in grass on this trip.
I'm beginning to realize this is a very inarticulate post. Alas, I'm still tired. I actually haven't had a full-night sleep in weeks (by that, I mean at least 7 hours, only semi-interrupted). As a result, I have only enough energy to devote to riding, much less to actually thinking, then the rest of the day is kind of screwed.
So I will end this pitiful post soon, but I just wanted to mention our ride today. It was freaking amazing, despite the terrible roads. We rode through probably the most unbelievable display of wealth I have ever seen in my life. We were on the north side of Chicago, which is known for being one of the wealthiest places in the country. We rode through Winnetka and Glencoe, which are two of the top 10 wealthiest places in the country, as well as Wilmette and Highland Park, where I unexpectedly stumbled upon FLW's Ward Willits House. It was unmarked, and I was baffled, because I knew it looked SOOO familiar, and I knew it had to be an FLW, but I wasn't sure. So these houses, oh my god, I can't even tell you how sprawling they are. Amazing and absolutely disgusting at the same time. However with all that disposable income, they still cannot manage to maintain their roads properly, instead they were full of potholes, cracks, and bumps. And now we're in Grayslake, a not so financially fortunate, but still rather wealthy, distant suburb of Chicago. We're at the Wildwood Presbyterian Church, which is definately the snazziest church we've stayed in so far. Snazzy, because it is brand new, really huge, and really comfy. Of course our snazziest sleeping accommodations were still at Avon Lake :)
My first time in Wisconsin will be tomorrow. Until the next post, I hope you all will forget I've written this crappy thing. Goodnight.
11 July 2008
The town that billy's sunday could not shut down
It's only 109 miles and less than a day away...cannot wait...we're staying on the north side of the city in an apparently pretty nice neighborhood called Ravenswood. The ride will be pretty difficult, in both length and traffic, but the last 15 miles will be along the lakefront on a bike trail, which should be pretty nice. We have our first day off (of four, not consecutive, the next is in Madison, WI) on Sunday. Not sure what I want to do, will probably go to the Art Institute and roam around for a while. We'll see.
Just a quick post, too tired to write much right now. The ride today was really nice in the morning, some smooth roads, and no headwind. We weaved in and out of Indiana (and back in tomorrow). In the afternoon, we did have to detour (because our route was closed) onto a busy road with a narrow shoulder, and some people got run off the road by tractor trailers, but we all made it without injury. It was tricky for probably about 25 miles, but we had a really nice new road to ride into Edwardsburg. And we all made pretty good time, everyone was at the church by 3:30.
Tomorrow should be interesting. Don't touch that dial.
Just a quick post, too tired to write much right now. The ride today was really nice in the morning, some smooth roads, and no headwind. We weaved in and out of Indiana (and back in tomorrow). In the afternoon, we did have to detour (because our route was closed) onto a busy road with a narrow shoulder, and some people got run off the road by tractor trailers, but we all made it without injury. It was tricky for probably about 25 miles, but we had a really nice new road to ride into Edwardsburg. And we all made pretty good time, everyone was at the church by 3:30.
Tomorrow should be interesting. Don't touch that dial.
10 July 2008
making headway, in headwinds
So first, a correction...counter to what we were initially told, the ride to Bowling Green was only 97 miles, which means we have not yet had our century ride. If you didn't already notice, I'm not following the mileage that the Bike and Build website states, because it's almost always wrong (except to Bowling Green).
However we did cross the much-awaited 1,000 mile threshold today! In 15 days of riding, which seems like a pretty big accomplishment, but the days are going to get longer and longer...
We had some great hosts in Bowling Green, at the First Presbyterian Church. They fed us really really really well, as I am finding to be a trend across this here USA. The Reverend, Steve Moulton, is an alum of UM Law School (they're more friendly to the Wolverines in the northern portion of Ohio), practiced law for a while, then at 45 decided to study at a seminary, and became an ordained minister. Pretty amazing change of pace. He was a very happy, welcoming, and insightful man. He was the first pastor/reverend/minister/churchperson to ask any of us if we affiliated ourselves with what he called a "faith-movement". Maybe two of the thirty twentysomethings raised their hands (and reluctantly, too). At that moment, realizing we were in near-rural Ohio, I feared he may preach to us about something God-ly, but really surprised me when he argued that he saw Bike and Build as a faith-movement regardless of its secular nature. He applauded what we were doing as the future of religion, where people are driven to affect some important issue, and are able to come together in a movement of the fundamental faith in humanity. It was a really basic concept, a simple connection to make, but incredibly profound coming from a man of Christian faith. He really seemed to be in touch with the changing nature of religion in America, or the spread of secular humanism, and was able to respond to it with great wisdom. To say the least, he was inspiring.
We're in Michigan now, finally out of Ohio. Seriously, the only time I actually enjoyed Ohio was when I wasn't riding through it. On today's ride, we met a disgruntled old man who screamed at Sharon when she decided to take a walk through his field of grass (she was actually going to find a place to go to the bathroom, but he didn't know that). He proceeded to get in his car, because the 200 yard walk was much too far, stop his car just short of Michelle's head, and give us a lesson in private property etiquette. Because apparently we, in our biking attire, look like a bunch of trouble-makers. I know he was just trying to protect his precious land, but he was just rude. He was an Ohio State fan (as evidenced by his OSU cap, shirt, and license plate, "OSU FN"), and when he got back in his car and closed the door, I glared at him and screamed "GO BLUE". Whatever.
So the ride through Ohio. We were on very busy and very dangerous roads for all but probably the last 15 miles. Anyway, we're in the south-central part of Mich, in a small town called Camden. I mean tiny. But the gas station had soft-serve ice cream, even Flurries, and the church has wireless, so I'm quite content. We're at the amazingly tech-savvy United Methodist Church...seriously, I've not seen so many computers in one church before. The sanctuary has two (with a/v/mixing equipment galore), there is one in the Fellowship Hall, and a bank of them in another room. Pastor Ed is a former computer programmer, and he teaches computer classes at the church, so the place is hoooked up. And the place is pristine...the lawn perfectly manicured, beautiful stained-glass windows, and just really well-maintained. Its probably the nicest looking building in the entire town, and certainly its pinnacle.
The ride here was only supposed to be 78 miles, but I ended up going 94. Don't ask, I just went 7 miles too far on one road, thinking I was on another. It was really frustrating, almost ruined my day. But I made it, and after going 97 the previous day, arrived exhausted, had a great meal, but two presentations to give following dinner. One to the congregation, and another to the group for our weekly affordable housing meeting. It was a stressful day, but thankfully everything is over and it all went pretty well.
So, traveling west, we have to deal with this thing called a headwind. Yeah, about that, it sucks. We haven't hit the worst of it yet, but yesterday (Wed) the headwind kept most of us from going over 15 mph. I mean you are pedaling as hard as you can, and its kind of like riding uphill (not too steep) for 97 miles, because you just don't go fast. Its frustrating. Add to that the wind created from the 4 or 5 tractor trailers passing you per second. We were on a busy route that parallels I-90, so the truckers who don't want to pay Ohio tolls take this same road instead. And the shoulder is only two feet wide. It was messy. Lots of close calls, but fortunately no cyclist splatter.
I gotta go to bed, another 75 miles tomorrow, then our first centruy (for real this time) to Chicago(!) on Saturday. By the way, Michigan has better state signs...Ohio's were boring.
However we did cross the much-awaited 1,000 mile threshold today! In 15 days of riding, which seems like a pretty big accomplishment, but the days are going to get longer and longer...
We had some great hosts in Bowling Green, at the First Presbyterian Church. They fed us really really really well, as I am finding to be a trend across this here USA. The Reverend, Steve Moulton, is an alum of UM Law School (they're more friendly to the Wolverines in the northern portion of Ohio), practiced law for a while, then at 45 decided to study at a seminary, and became an ordained minister. Pretty amazing change of pace. He was a very happy, welcoming, and insightful man. He was the first pastor/reverend/minister/churchperson to ask any of us if we affiliated ourselves with what he called a "faith-movement". Maybe two of the thirty twentysomethings raised their hands (and reluctantly, too). At that moment, realizing we were in near-rural Ohio, I feared he may preach to us about something God-ly, but really surprised me when he argued that he saw Bike and Build as a faith-movement regardless of its secular nature. He applauded what we were doing as the future of religion, where people are driven to affect some important issue, and are able to come together in a movement of the fundamental faith in humanity. It was a really basic concept, a simple connection to make, but incredibly profound coming from a man of Christian faith. He really seemed to be in touch with the changing nature of religion in America, or the spread of secular humanism, and was able to respond to it with great wisdom. To say the least, he was inspiring.
We're in Michigan now, finally out of Ohio. Seriously, the only time I actually enjoyed Ohio was when I wasn't riding through it. On today's ride, we met a disgruntled old man who screamed at Sharon when she decided to take a walk through his field of grass (she was actually going to find a place to go to the bathroom, but he didn't know that). He proceeded to get in his car, because the 200 yard walk was much too far, stop his car just short of Michelle's head, and give us a lesson in private property etiquette. Because apparently we, in our biking attire, look like a bunch of trouble-makers. I know he was just trying to protect his precious land, but he was just rude. He was an Ohio State fan (as evidenced by his OSU cap, shirt, and license plate, "OSU FN"), and when he got back in his car and closed the door, I glared at him and screamed "GO BLUE". Whatever.
So the ride through Ohio. We were on very busy and very dangerous roads for all but probably the last 15 miles. Anyway, we're in the south-central part of Mich, in a small town called Camden. I mean tiny. But the gas station had soft-serve ice cream, even Flurries, and the church has wireless, so I'm quite content. We're at the amazingly tech-savvy United Methodist Church...seriously, I've not seen so many computers in one church before. The sanctuary has two (with a/v/mixing equipment galore), there is one in the Fellowship Hall, and a bank of them in another room. Pastor Ed is a former computer programmer, and he teaches computer classes at the church, so the place is hoooked up. And the place is pristine...the lawn perfectly manicured, beautiful stained-glass windows, and just really well-maintained. Its probably the nicest looking building in the entire town, and certainly its pinnacle.
The ride here was only supposed to be 78 miles, but I ended up going 94. Don't ask, I just went 7 miles too far on one road, thinking I was on another. It was really frustrating, almost ruined my day. But I made it, and after going 97 the previous day, arrived exhausted, had a great meal, but two presentations to give following dinner. One to the congregation, and another to the group for our weekly affordable housing meeting. It was a stressful day, but thankfully everything is over and it all went pretty well.
So, traveling west, we have to deal with this thing called a headwind. Yeah, about that, it sucks. We haven't hit the worst of it yet, but yesterday (Wed) the headwind kept most of us from going over 15 mph. I mean you are pedaling as hard as you can, and its kind of like riding uphill (not too steep) for 97 miles, because you just don't go fast. Its frustrating. Add to that the wind created from the 4 or 5 tractor trailers passing you per second. We were on a busy route that parallels I-90, so the truckers who don't want to pay Ohio tolls take this same road instead. And the shoulder is only two feet wide. It was messy. Lots of close calls, but fortunately no cyclist splatter.
I gotta go to bed, another 75 miles tomorrow, then our first centruy (for real this time) to Chicago(!) on Saturday. By the way, Michigan has better state signs...Ohio's were boring.
08 July 2008
wait, we have to leave?!
Just as I was getting settled into my comfy new room...
After a white-knuckle ride yesterday, we were greeting by an amazing bunch of hospitable people who have taken us in and made sure we felt a part of their family. It has actually gotten to the point where some of the riders have started calling their hosts "mom" or "dad" or even "sister". Their support not only keeps us going physically, but also gives us the morale we need to pursue our mission, hopefully (certainly for me) beyond what Bike and Build aims to accomplish. The people of Avon Lake, and of all the places who welcome us so graciously, really help to foster the spirit of service, which we in turn hope to foster in others.
Now, upon leaving, we have another difficult ride to Bowling Green tomorrow: it will be our first century. Thats right, 110 miles in one day, potentially in the rain. Yikes.
I'm beginning to feel more and more the pressure of Bike and Build's ambitions, especially when working with thirty other people on a relatively small Habitat build site in only one (once two) day (s). With thirty volunteers descending on a single site for only a single day, you can imagine what a logistical nightmare that might be for the hosting affiliate. Three of the five sites we've worked at have had us pushing dirt around and/or doing other related yardwork, a very important and tedious task (probably the most tedious), but something that doesn't require much skill from the volunteers, and can get done very quickly with a large group. In other words, we're perfect candidates. As much as I enjoy working at the build site, I really am disappointed that we haven't been able to build framing or hang windows or nail siding or even install a toilet. But again, I understand the difficulty of coordinating the work of a large group, it's just a shame because I often feel like I'm not doing enough to help whoever will be benefiting from our work.
At the same time, it is an incredible learning experience; I think I've become so much more aware of how people are (and especially how Habitat is) perceiving and reacting to the need for affordable housing, and how, in turn, I react. Perhaps both like and unlike Habitat, I see every site that we work at as completely unique. The beneficiaries of these houses are both the individuals who will live in them and the neighborhoods that contain them. That said, I appreciate all the lengths Habitat goes to to ensure a quality home, but I'm a designer, some might call a "city builder", and I think these people and these neighborhoods deserve much more than stock housing. Affordable housing programs should deal less in efficency and more in quality of life. In many of these neighborhoods, the reason housing fails is because people have no reason to invest their lives in both the buildings and the neighborhood. Blight happens where ambitions falter. These people and places not only have little resources, but also have little hope, or have hope that needs direction. But there are rays of hope, like the Heidelberg Project and Young Detroit Builders, both in Detroit of course. I will talk more about them some other time, but just check out their websites. They are amazing community organizations (of many in Detroit) which foster the kind of spirit that gives an amazing spirit to the housing that architects like me and organizations like Habitat provide. I think, when speaking of sustainability, we all need to think more comprehensively (but not systematically), especially toward ways of making what we build something that has emotional value.
After a white-knuckle ride yesterday, we were greeting by an amazing bunch of hospitable people who have taken us in and made sure we felt a part of their family. It has actually gotten to the point where some of the riders have started calling their hosts "mom" or "dad" or even "sister". Their support not only keeps us going physically, but also gives us the morale we need to pursue our mission, hopefully (certainly for me) beyond what Bike and Build aims to accomplish. The people of Avon Lake, and of all the places who welcome us so graciously, really help to foster the spirit of service, which we in turn hope to foster in others.
Now, upon leaving, we have another difficult ride to Bowling Green tomorrow: it will be our first century. Thats right, 110 miles in one day, potentially in the rain. Yikes.
I'm beginning to feel more and more the pressure of Bike and Build's ambitions, especially when working with thirty other people on a relatively small Habitat build site in only one (once two) day (s). With thirty volunteers descending on a single site for only a single day, you can imagine what a logistical nightmare that might be for the hosting affiliate. Three of the five sites we've worked at have had us pushing dirt around and/or doing other related yardwork, a very important and tedious task (probably the most tedious), but something that doesn't require much skill from the volunteers, and can get done very quickly with a large group. In other words, we're perfect candidates. As much as I enjoy working at the build site, I really am disappointed that we haven't been able to build framing or hang windows or nail siding or even install a toilet. But again, I understand the difficulty of coordinating the work of a large group, it's just a shame because I often feel like I'm not doing enough to help whoever will be benefiting from our work.
At the same time, it is an incredible learning experience; I think I've become so much more aware of how people are (and especially how Habitat is) perceiving and reacting to the need for affordable housing, and how, in turn, I react. Perhaps both like and unlike Habitat, I see every site that we work at as completely unique. The beneficiaries of these houses are both the individuals who will live in them and the neighborhoods that contain them. That said, I appreciate all the lengths Habitat goes to to ensure a quality home, but I'm a designer, some might call a "city builder", and I think these people and these neighborhoods deserve much more than stock housing. Affordable housing programs should deal less in efficency and more in quality of life. In many of these neighborhoods, the reason housing fails is because people have no reason to invest their lives in both the buildings and the neighborhood. Blight happens where ambitions falter. These people and places not only have little resources, but also have little hope, or have hope that needs direction. But there are rays of hope, like the Heidelberg Project and Young Detroit Builders, both in Detroit of course. I will talk more about them some other time, but just check out their websites. They are amazing community organizations (of many in Detroit) which foster the kind of spirit that gives an amazing spirit to the housing that architects like me and organizations like Habitat provide. I think, when speaking of sustainability, we all need to think more comprehensively (but not systematically), especially toward ways of making what we build something that has emotional value.
07 July 2008
we've entered the HEARTLAND
It certainly has its ups and downs, but I think I'm really experiencing the ups right now.
This will have to be a quick entry, as I'm about to pass out from close to 250 miles of riding in the past three days, but I have to say the ride today was absolutely terrible. Like terrible, as in I'm surprised we all made it to Avon Lake today alive. We left really amazing hosts at Trinity Presbyterian in Ashtabula, OH, who took us to their homes for hot showers, fed us great snacks, and let us sleep in their comfortable church (the Dartmouth Club, an alumni organization, provided a cookout for us at a local lake, not Erie). Immediately upon exiting the church was US-20...really beautiful in Upstate New York, but a complete disaster in Northeastern Ohio. The day prior (after being on beautiful US-5 for 20 miles), we had already spent 15 miles on it, with endless bumps and potholes, four lanes of traffic wizzing by at 50 miles per hour, and no shoulder (just a curb, another obstacle, should we be run off the road). Well, this morning, who knew that it would continue for another 75 miles. I'M NOT KIDDING. So you think, Ashtabula, small town in the middle of nowhere, right? Wrong. Well, at least it didn't seem so along route 20. The road was completely developed, and in Ashtabula County, almost half abandoned. But that didn't stop the traffic.
So the route was long and incredibly dangerous. We were on Route 20 for well over half the trip today, and as we got closer and closer to Cleveland, the road got busier, bumpier, and more dangerous. Picture me (Craig too, as he would tell me later) alone on my bike, in the middle of US-20, cars screaming by me, and me screaming at the top of my lungs "I HATE THIS F***ING ROAD. I HATE THIS F***ING STATE." Let's just say I got some pretty nasty stares. After about 25 miles, I just had to get off that road, so I consulted with some people, namely a woman at a Dairy Queen, who told me that a parallel road, SR-84, actually had a shoulder and even some bike lanes. So I broke away from everyone else, and went about 5 miles out of my way, to a road that was much safer, cleaner, and smoother than how we had been told to go. I don't really blame our trip leaders for the oversight in the quality of the road, but I do think they could do more to ensure our safety. And if anything, they could make a note about it for next year's trip (why, after 5 years of doing this route, none of the previous years had made a note, I have no idea). Today's route was just out of control.
But I really don't hate this state. Actually, the people have been incredible thus far. In Ashtabula, they were wonderful for letting us into their homes. Along the route today, while I was riding alone, I had many people stop to congratulate me on what I was doing, eventhough they had no idea what I was doing. They just thought I was out on a quick ride to buy some lunch or some gatorade, and decided to brave the traffic in the name of saving the environment. Little did they know I had a little bit more miles under my belt. Then, while riding through Cleveland (we went right downtown, even stopped at the Art Museum, which was closed, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which we didn't want to pay admission for), people out on the street were just cheering us on, or even just waving hello. I say, these midwestern folk are friendly.
But now to Avon Lake. First, so the road was bumpy almost the entire trip, UNTIL we arrived in Avon Lake. We were greeted with nice smooth roads and (!) bike lanes (!!!). Along the lake is mansion after mansion after mansion, and still growing. If that wasn't a greeting enough, about 30 members of the United Church of Christ came and had dinner with us, which they all provided. We schmoozed, gave a presentation on our organization, and then went over to a church member's house on the lake to play in the water and watch the sun set. But here's the kicker, each and every one of us are staying with host families for two nights! That means REAL beds and REAL showers and breakfasts and happy, warm, welcoming people. I am currently staying with Kevin at the Grady residence. This should be fun.
Speaking of bed, I have one I need to go to. We have a build day in Cleveland tomorrow, EARLY. Will write more about how fantastic our hosts are later.
This will have to be a quick entry, as I'm about to pass out from close to 250 miles of riding in the past three days, but I have to say the ride today was absolutely terrible. Like terrible, as in I'm surprised we all made it to Avon Lake today alive. We left really amazing hosts at Trinity Presbyterian in Ashtabula, OH, who took us to their homes for hot showers, fed us great snacks, and let us sleep in their comfortable church (the Dartmouth Club, an alumni organization, provided a cookout for us at a local lake, not Erie). Immediately upon exiting the church was US-20...really beautiful in Upstate New York, but a complete disaster in Northeastern Ohio. The day prior (after being on beautiful US-5 for 20 miles), we had already spent 15 miles on it, with endless bumps and potholes, four lanes of traffic wizzing by at 50 miles per hour, and no shoulder (just a curb, another obstacle, should we be run off the road). Well, this morning, who knew that it would continue for another 75 miles. I'M NOT KIDDING. So you think, Ashtabula, small town in the middle of nowhere, right? Wrong. Well, at least it didn't seem so along route 20. The road was completely developed, and in Ashtabula County, almost half abandoned. But that didn't stop the traffic.
So the route was long and incredibly dangerous. We were on Route 20 for well over half the trip today, and as we got closer and closer to Cleveland, the road got busier, bumpier, and more dangerous. Picture me (Craig too, as he would tell me later) alone on my bike, in the middle of US-20, cars screaming by me, and me screaming at the top of my lungs "I HATE THIS F***ING ROAD. I HATE THIS F***ING STATE." Let's just say I got some pretty nasty stares. After about 25 miles, I just had to get off that road, so I consulted with some people, namely a woman at a Dairy Queen, who told me that a parallel road, SR-84, actually had a shoulder and even some bike lanes. So I broke away from everyone else, and went about 5 miles out of my way, to a road that was much safer, cleaner, and smoother than how we had been told to go. I don't really blame our trip leaders for the oversight in the quality of the road, but I do think they could do more to ensure our safety. And if anything, they could make a note about it for next year's trip (why, after 5 years of doing this route, none of the previous years had made a note, I have no idea). Today's route was just out of control.
But I really don't hate this state. Actually, the people have been incredible thus far. In Ashtabula, they were wonderful for letting us into their homes. Along the route today, while I was riding alone, I had many people stop to congratulate me on what I was doing, eventhough they had no idea what I was doing. They just thought I was out on a quick ride to buy some lunch or some gatorade, and decided to brave the traffic in the name of saving the environment. Little did they know I had a little bit more miles under my belt. Then, while riding through Cleveland (we went right downtown, even stopped at the Art Museum, which was closed, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which we didn't want to pay admission for), people out on the street were just cheering us on, or even just waving hello. I say, these midwestern folk are friendly.
But now to Avon Lake. First, so the road was bumpy almost the entire trip, UNTIL we arrived in Avon Lake. We were greeted with nice smooth roads and (!) bike lanes (!!!). Along the lake is mansion after mansion after mansion, and still growing. If that wasn't a greeting enough, about 30 members of the United Church of Christ came and had dinner with us, which they all provided. We schmoozed, gave a presentation on our organization, and then went over to a church member's house on the lake to play in the water and watch the sun set. But here's the kicker, each and every one of us are staying with host families for two nights! That means REAL beds and REAL showers and breakfasts and happy, warm, welcoming people. I am currently staying with Kevin at the Grady residence. This should be fun.
Speaking of bed, I have one I need to go to. We have a build day in Cleveland tomorrow, EARLY. Will write more about how fantastic our hosts are later.
05 July 2008
i heart mcdonalds
As we begin our exit from the great state of New York, where just over a week ago I proclaimed how much I heart it, I must both partially retract my statement and give a shout out to the McDonald's of Westfield, NY.
First, the retraction. I must admit, I was quite enamored of the great hills of the Adirondacks, until of course we had to climb them. But they were fantastic, and made me happy to be back in my home state. The people we've met on the way, including my family, have been incredibly welcoming and I thank them all so much for helping us get through this journey. But, after a less than stimulating day at Niagara Falls (mostly Ontario, but NY for fireworks) and an 85 mile ride to a town desperately wishing it was more than it actually is, I think i'll be more than happy once we cross two state lines tomorrow (woooo Ohio).
So Niagara on the 4th...beautiful weather...we had a quick 18 mile ride to the church, and another 6 miles to the falls, where we would have had to pay $3.25 to bike across the border into Canada. Instead, we locked our bikes to a fence at the border, and walked across the bridge. Surely, the Canadian side has a much better view of the falls, but they also have the most garish theme park of a town I have ever seen. A Frankenstein Burger King topped the list on what seemed like a never-ending midway. But the falls were great to see, despite all the tourists, which actually were more interesting to watch than I expected. More than half of them spoke a foreign language, which comforted me for some reason, and crowded the array of fabricated venues, leaving the grass and gardens wide open for our enjoyment. I ate at a Tim Horton's (so Canadian....and the healthiest thing I could find), walked around until the light mist from the falls made me cold, at which point I decided to buy ice cream and walk to a nice spot of grass that apparently nobody else knew what to do with. On the way back to America, we had to pay 50 cents. I guess freedom really isn't free.
We went back to the church for dinner, and later drove back to the falls for one of the worst fireworks displays I have ever seen. Seriously, Manlius, NY puts NIAGARA FALLS to shame. They started at 10:01 and lasted until exactly 10:08. Afterwards, I had to make the squandered sleep worthwhile, so I bought a hot fudge sunday from Twist of the Mist, a stand in the shape of a big ice cream cone. Because of traffic, it then took an hour to get back to the church...
Well now we're in Westfield, which (FUN FACT!) after being the site of the discovery of a pasteurization method for grape juice, became home to major Niagara Grape orchards of the Welch juice company for over a hundred years. Those orchards have since been sold and are now fledgling vineyards. To get here, we rode through the proverbial depressed neighborhoods of Buffalo, then the proverbial depressed suburbs of Buffalo, then along the overcompensating (not the lake, the people) coastline of Lake Erie for most of the rest of the trip. Regardless, it was a really really really insanely beautiful ride, a ride to really make you appreciate the wonder of the world's largest source of fresh water. The ride into Westfield was also beautiful, as we passed vineyard after vineyard under a cloudless sky.
And now for my shout out. This will be the first and last time I ever say this. McDonald's has some serious nightlife here. After all, it is the (complementary wi-fi) hot spot. I've never been so happy to be at a fast food chain in all my life. Seriously.
Alright, its almost 11 and we have another long, probably sunny ride tomorrow (80 miles again, to Ashtabula). Better hit the hay. One week to Chicago.
First, the retraction. I must admit, I was quite enamored of the great hills of the Adirondacks, until of course we had to climb them. But they were fantastic, and made me happy to be back in my home state. The people we've met on the way, including my family, have been incredibly welcoming and I thank them all so much for helping us get through this journey. But, after a less than stimulating day at Niagara Falls (mostly Ontario, but NY for fireworks) and an 85 mile ride to a town desperately wishing it was more than it actually is, I think i'll be more than happy once we cross two state lines tomorrow (woooo Ohio).
So Niagara on the 4th...beautiful weather...we had a quick 18 mile ride to the church, and another 6 miles to the falls, where we would have had to pay $3.25 to bike across the border into Canada. Instead, we locked our bikes to a fence at the border, and walked across the bridge. Surely, the Canadian side has a much better view of the falls, but they also have the most garish theme park of a town I have ever seen. A Frankenstein Burger King topped the list on what seemed like a never-ending midway. But the falls were great to see, despite all the tourists, which actually were more interesting to watch than I expected. More than half of them spoke a foreign language, which comforted me for some reason, and crowded the array of fabricated venues, leaving the grass and gardens wide open for our enjoyment. I ate at a Tim Horton's (so Canadian....and the healthiest thing I could find), walked around until the light mist from the falls made me cold, at which point I decided to buy ice cream and walk to a nice spot of grass that apparently nobody else knew what to do with. On the way back to America, we had to pay 50 cents. I guess freedom really isn't free.
We went back to the church for dinner, and later drove back to the falls for one of the worst fireworks displays I have ever seen. Seriously, Manlius, NY puts NIAGARA FALLS to shame. They started at 10:01 and lasted until exactly 10:08. Afterwards, I had to make the squandered sleep worthwhile, so I bought a hot fudge sunday from Twist of the Mist, a stand in the shape of a big ice cream cone. Because of traffic, it then took an hour to get back to the church...
Well now we're in Westfield, which (FUN FACT!) after being the site of the discovery of a pasteurization method for grape juice, became home to major Niagara Grape orchards of the Welch juice company for over a hundred years. Those orchards have since been sold and are now fledgling vineyards. To get here, we rode through the proverbial depressed neighborhoods of Buffalo, then the proverbial depressed suburbs of Buffalo, then along the overcompensating (not the lake, the people) coastline of Lake Erie for most of the rest of the trip. Regardless, it was a really really really insanely beautiful ride, a ride to really make you appreciate the wonder of the world's largest source of fresh water. The ride into Westfield was also beautiful, as we passed vineyard after vineyard under a cloudless sky.
And now for my shout out. This will be the first and last time I ever say this. McDonald's has some serious nightlife here. After all, it is the (complementary wi-fi) hot spot. I've never been so happy to be at a fast food chain in all my life. Seriously.
Alright, its almost 11 and we have another long, probably sunny ride tomorrow (80 miles again, to Ashtabula). Better hit the hay. One week to Chicago.
03 July 2008
building a bicycle-powered ark...
...at least then we'll make it to Vancouver come high water, which seems almost inevitable.
I'm sitting on the third floor of the public library in Lockport, NY. That's right, I said THIRD floor...we've finally arrived in a town large enough to require more than one story to accommodate its stacks. I know, I know, we just came from "Rochester" and RIT, but there's no use in considering a vacant 17,000 student campus, surrounded by strip malls, civilization, especially if they don't let us use their internet. Though Jeff Hering, director of the campus Interfaith Center, was incredibly hospitable to us, providing us with breakfast and dinner and allowing us to use his facilities for group meetings for the two days of our stay.
The rest of our stay in "Rochester" was así así, basically because we were so far removed from the actual city that there was nothing more interesting to see than Wall-E, which was pretty darn amazing, mind you. Almost the entire rest of my family visited me too, and brought some good food!! I think the group has been officially spoiled by all the cookies, cakes, muffins, bagels, bananas, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, and oranges everyone has provided over the past few days. Unfortunately my bloodline does not extend west of the Genesee River, so hopefully other families along the route will be able to pitch in.
We did manage to make it somewhat close to downtown for our build, but I think, after so many small towns, people were really anticipating being in the heart of a city. And guess what we did at the build? Thats right, yard work. I moved some dirt, then some rocks, then some weeds, then mowed some grass, and cleared some brush. All in the name of humanity. Now for some current events:
MILES COMPLETED: ~600
MILES COMPLETED IN RAIN: ~60,000
FUN(!) FACT: In addition to taking its name from the many locks of the Erie Canal located within the city, in 1869, Lockport became the first place to have a functional fire hydrant system. And the first place where I began to feel like I was drowning in my own (completely soaked) shoes.
SONG OF THE DAY: Oh, let's go with "Weather Systems" by Andrew Bird.
Today was one of those days that could not end soon enough. I was a sweep, which meant I had to be at the back of the pack to make sure everyone else got to Lockport intact. This also meant that my day was much, much....much longer than it should have been. We only did about 58 miles today, and most of it was flat, but factor in the following, and you wonder why I didn't throw myself into the canal upon arrival (I mean, I was already wet): sore/tired legs/body, then a stiff headwind, drizzle, then Reed's flat tire #1, then rain, then heavier rain, then downpour, then downpour and stiff headwind, then near hypothermia at lunch, then Reed flat #2, then really tired legs and aching joints, then Reed flat #3 (at which time I found a shard of glass embedded in his tire, and proceeded to patch it with a Clif Bar wrapper). We finally made it to Lockport at 3:30, but 58 miles in 7 hours is not what I'd like to call efficient.
Reed's three flats are by no means a one-day record on this trip. Zack recorded 5 in one day (and 7 in two), but I believe some of those flats were caused by the tube pinching (called a pinch flat), as it was installed incorrectly. All of Reed's flats were caused by puncture, potentially all by a single piece of glass, but we're not totally sure. All I can say is buy Bontrager Race Lite or Continental Gatorskin tires (I'm sure there are better ones, but these have served our trip well, and for a good price).
Well, tomorrow is the 4th, and we have a really short 20 mile ride to Niagara Falls. A lot of people have never been there before, the weather is supposed to be dry and sunny, and we're going to watch the fireworks over the falls, so it should hopefully be a great day of rest before a 90-miler on Saturday.
I'm sitting on the third floor of the public library in Lockport, NY. That's right, I said THIRD floor...we've finally arrived in a town large enough to require more than one story to accommodate its stacks. I know, I know, we just came from "Rochester" and RIT, but there's no use in considering a vacant 17,000 student campus, surrounded by strip malls, civilization, especially if they don't let us use their internet. Though Jeff Hering, director of the campus Interfaith Center, was incredibly hospitable to us, providing us with breakfast and dinner and allowing us to use his facilities for group meetings for the two days of our stay.
The rest of our stay in "Rochester" was así así, basically because we were so far removed from the actual city that there was nothing more interesting to see than Wall-E, which was pretty darn amazing, mind you. Almost the entire rest of my family visited me too, and brought some good food!! I think the group has been officially spoiled by all the cookies, cakes, muffins, bagels, bananas, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, and oranges everyone has provided over the past few days. Unfortunately my bloodline does not extend west of the Genesee River, so hopefully other families along the route will be able to pitch in.
We did manage to make it somewhat close to downtown for our build, but I think, after so many small towns, people were really anticipating being in the heart of a city. And guess what we did at the build? Thats right, yard work. I moved some dirt, then some rocks, then some weeds, then mowed some grass, and cleared some brush. All in the name of humanity. Now for some current events:
MILES COMPLETED: ~600
MILES COMPLETED IN RAIN: ~60,000
FUN(!) FACT: In addition to taking its name from the many locks of the Erie Canal located within the city, in 1869, Lockport became the first place to have a functional fire hydrant system. And the first place where I began to feel like I was drowning in my own (completely soaked) shoes.
SONG OF THE DAY: Oh, let's go with "Weather Systems" by Andrew Bird.
Today was one of those days that could not end soon enough. I was a sweep, which meant I had to be at the back of the pack to make sure everyone else got to Lockport intact. This also meant that my day was much, much....much longer than it should have been. We only did about 58 miles today, and most of it was flat, but factor in the following, and you wonder why I didn't throw myself into the canal upon arrival (I mean, I was already wet): sore/tired legs/body, then a stiff headwind, drizzle, then Reed's flat tire #1, then rain, then heavier rain, then downpour, then downpour and stiff headwind, then near hypothermia at lunch, then Reed flat #2, then really tired legs and aching joints, then Reed flat #3 (at which time I found a shard of glass embedded in his tire, and proceeded to patch it with a Clif Bar wrapper). We finally made it to Lockport at 3:30, but 58 miles in 7 hours is not what I'd like to call efficient.
Reed's three flats are by no means a one-day record on this trip. Zack recorded 5 in one day (and 7 in two), but I believe some of those flats were caused by the tube pinching (called a pinch flat), as it was installed incorrectly. All of Reed's flats were caused by puncture, potentially all by a single piece of glass, but we're not totally sure. All I can say is buy Bontrager Race Lite or Continental Gatorskin tires (I'm sure there are better ones, but these have served our trip well, and for a good price).
Well, tomorrow is the 4th, and we have a really short 20 mile ride to Niagara Falls. A lot of people have never been there before, the weather is supposed to be dry and sunny, and we're going to watch the fireworks over the falls, so it should hopefully be a great day of rest before a 90-miler on Saturday.
01 July 2008
rah-cha-cha
well, actually Henrietta...passed through rochester briefly and will be back there for a build tomorrow....we're staying at RIT, which is a big school completely buffered by land, then encased in strip malls...so, not much walking to be had to find things like coffee, free food donations, or wireless (RIT won't give it to us)
90 miles today, but gotta run....will write more later
90 miles today, but gotta run....will write more later
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