Norma

Happy New Year!

Welcome, one and all, to the year 2008!

It's 8:00pm here in Maryland. And I just got off the phone with my sister Janice and her boyfriend Chad. Janice and Chad are both in Madrid (yes, Spain) and it's after 2:00am for them. I listened closely as Janice and Chad described the chaos that was happening around them. How the streets were full of thousands of people, who were clutching bottles of wine and champagne and lighting off all manner of fireworks. Smoke filled the streets and people had that crazy look in their eyes. It sounded like a really good new year's eve. And then they told me about the local tradition of eating 12 grapes at midnight. They said I should eat 12 grapes at midnight, and I said "sure, why not!"

Other than the grapes, and this post, I'm not sure what my plans are for tonight. I was going to go to a party at my friend Travis's home, but my car decided not to start. So here I am, still at home. I may head out later with my friend Mary, but for now I am happy writing. Alone, at home, writing my way closer to the new year.

I'm very excited about the new year. For me, 2008 will be the year that I start to play the mandolin. It's not so much a new year's resolution, but rather a new year's calling. I will play the mandolin because I want to. I will play because it might be impossible for me not to. The 8 perfect strings, four pairs of two. The golden sound. The musical possibilities are infinite! I couldn't be happier sitting, playing, learning the scales, the chords, making up melodies. I spent all last night reviving my mandolin and now it is alive.

My mandolin bears the name "Norma" on the top of the headstock. It was given to me by my friend Allen Dyer. I received the mandolin last spring, and since then it has just been sitting in my room. I thought it was beyond fixing. But I decided to buy some strings and see what I could do. And last night, after carving down the bridge and stringing up the new strings, I was overjoyed to discover that my mandolin was actually playable. And it actually sounded descent. The action is still a little high, but the intonation is good. It works! I still can't believe it. Oh, the music that will be made! Oh, the clunkers that will be played as I fumble my way through the scales! Here is a picture of my new friend Norma.






















Not bad, eh? Thanks again Allen!

Well, I should get going here. I want to see if I can learn "Auld Lang Syne" before the clocks strike twelve. Goodnight and happy new year!

Pressing On

It has been about three months since my bike tour came to a conclusion. And I don't think there has been a day within those three months where I haven't thought about the bike tour. The thoughts come to me naturally and at random moments, like when I'm opening a door or brushing my teeth.

It was a joyful experience to travel across this country by bicycle. Everyday my senses were engaged and many wonderful and lasting memories were forged. But it has also been a joy to come back home, and to spend time with my family and friends, and to continue with my work.

As the days go by, and as the tan lines on my body disappear, I remember what a great time I had this past summer. I remember the past, but I also remember how good things are right now. I enjoy the past carefully and in small amounts as I press on toward the future. The transition from life on the road to life at home has been, at times, a challenging one, but I do the best I can. As I go through this transition I remember that there is one constant: me. No matter how different things may seem, I remember that my life still just consists of me doing stuff. The places where the stuff happens can be important, becasue the places can sometimes affect the stuff, but in the end the stuff is what really matters.

I spend my days writing, because that is what I have chosen to do. I am a writer, working on my first book, and this is both challenging and fulfilling. My book (which is non-fiction) tells story of my first three bike tours. I actually finished the rough draft before Janice and I headed out this past summer. Although I have many months of editing and rewriting ahead of me, I press on with joy and desire and the rolling momentum that I still carry from my adventures this past summer.

For those of you who followed my tour by reading this log, I thank you. For those of you who I met along the way, I thank you. I received much kindness and hospitality this past summer and I consider myself to be very fortunate. Thanks to my sister Janice, who rode with me for 3,000 and some brilliant miles. Thanks to my family and friends, who kept me grounded and inspired. Thanks to Andy Baldwin, for his help and guidance with the megatransect. A very hearty (and very belated) thanks to the Herberts, who took me in on my second to last night on the road in Ashland, Virginia. The Herberts are related to my good friends the Batemans, and I thank both families for thinking of me and making my life on the road a little better. And finally, I must thank my mother, for not only her love but for her support as she mailed different supplies to Janice and I along the way. Thanks Mom!

As a way to show my thanks, I will continue to post writings and pictures. I invite you to stop in from time to time and look around.

The End Of The Tour

The date: Tuesday, the 28th day of August, 2007. It was Day 101 of the tour. I'm smiling because I'm happy. I had made it! Yorktown! The eastern terminus of the TransAmerica Trail! I was finally there.


The Yorktown Victory Monument. This is technically where the TransAmerica Trail ends or begins.















A young boy took this photo. He was visiting the monument with his family. I talked with the boy and his family. I told them about my summer. They couldn't believe that I had just finished riding my bike across the country. They considered Astoria, Oregon--the place where I started biking--to be half a world away.

I looked down at my odometer and told them it was only 4,273 miles away.



















I stood there as the setting sun blasted away at the cold stone of the monument. I stood there looking to the east and feeling good. I thought about all the other cyclists who had paused here before me. Westbound cyclists who were just starting out. Eastbound cyclists who like me were finishing their journey. I lingered for a while, outlasting several sets of tourists that came and took photos, and then left. I stayed there, happily hanging on to the last moments of my tour. I stayed until I was ready to leave, and then I left.

I rode over to Grace Episcopal Church and found this house, which is the house that TransAm riders are allowed to stay at. I went down to the house, and opened the door, and was pleasantly surprised to find Dave, Brian, and Roger, my friends from England. It had been over a week since we had seen each other. They had arrived at the house on the previous day, completing their journey from San Francisco to Yorktown. It was great to see the Englishmen and to share an evening of celebration with them. There was, after all, a lot to celebrate. We were all thankful for a long and safe tour. And we were very thankful for the kind people we had met along the way, the people that fed and sheltered us and gave us words of encouragement.

I went to bed that night thinking about some of places I had slept: campgrounds and living rooms, parks and churches, backyards and motels. I thought about my sister Janice, my wonderful traveling companion. I thought about her smile. I wondered how things were going for her. I wondered when I'd see her. I thought about my family and friends--I was excited to see them too. I closed my eyes and felt the swirling air of the ceiling fan. Out of the darkness a picture came into focus. I saw the glowing green--the living green--of big healthy leaves. It had been two days since my last tree sampling, but my mind was still able to conjure up images of leaves. I could see the 9 long fingers of the mockernut hickory. And standing there beside the mockernut were the familiar forked leaves of the tulip poplar. These were leaves that I had stared at over and over for the last couple weeks. Leaves that seemed to follow me as I traveled from state to state. The leaves turned into trees. And the trees blew and swayed with the breezes of my mind. I felt Sleep's soft cloak brush by me. A leaf fell from the tulip poplar and floated down to the road. I was the leaf and then I was the road and then I was back to being me. I was back on my bike, back in the saddle one last time, rolling slow and following the endless road as it plunged on into eternity, into the days of my past and into the dreams of my night.

The View From Day 95

At this point in the tour the view is quite nice. I have 95 days of journeying behind me--95 days and over 4,100 miles. In front of me is the possibility of the last 230 miles. Only 230 miles until I reach Yorktown. 230 miles and this bike tour will technically be over. But some journeys seem to go on forever, and I have a feeling that this may be one of them.

I know I'll be thinking about this tour for quite some time. 100 days of traveling and millions of memories do not just disappear. They never have and they never will. A journey can live for a long time, as long as it is cared for and loved.

I have seen and felt so much. I have heard the songs of birds and the accents from different regions. I have tasted the sweetness of the morning air. I have stood in people's homes and looked at the pictures on their walls. I have smelled old books and fresh basil. I have heard people's likes and dislikes, their cares and concerns, and sometimes, even their dreams. I have drank cold water from old wells. I have slept soundly as the night turned back into the day. I have felt the wind, and the rain, and the hot touch of the summer sun--the touch that warms us from over 91 million miles away. I have traded paper money for food and shelter, and I have always tried to remember my thank yous.

The last 95 days have been good. Sometimes tiring, sometimes long, but always good. My muscles work hard to move me across the land. My mind works hard to keep up with all the details, for there are many, many details. From the West to the East. From coast to coast. From the flatlands, to the mountains, and back to the flatlands again. This is a large and fragrant country. Our people are creative and resourceful. We are proud and free, kind and caring. We are young and old, wise but sometimes foolish, diverse but sometimes afraid to embrace our own diversity. There is great beauty and great promise here, but there is also greed and pollution. This is a large and fragrant country, hard to define but easy to enjoy.

Yes, over the course of this bicycle tour I have seen and felt so much. I have spent many hours writing in my journal, and many more hours working on this blog. I have always thought of this blog not as a summary of my entire tour--because that would just not be possible--but as a window into the last 3 months of my life. I have shared different aspects of the tour and different thoughts. And I have included photographs so you can see some of the things that I have seen. And now, I will open the window a little farther.



This is an old sign that still marks the route of the TransAmerica Trail. The 76 is there because this route was first established in 1976 (back then it was called Bikecentennial).

In the summer of '76, approximately 4,000 cyclists followed the trail across the country.

This is a newer sign. Most of the signs look like this.

Some people I've talked to along the way still remember the summer of '76. But there are many people living on or near the route that have no idea that the TransAmerica Trail exists. They just see the cyclists and figure that's what cyclists do.

But the old man that worked at this garage knew about the TransAm.










Dave, Brian, Roger, and me.

I've had the good fortune to end up at the same campground (or motel) as these fine gentlemen for 9 out of the last 14 nights.

Me and the Appalachian Mountains.

For the last couple weeks, Dave, Brian, Roger and Me have been traveling through these mountains. The roads in the Appalachians have provided some of the steepest grades of the entire tour. Going up these roads is hard, sweaty work. Luckily the uphills never last more than a few miles.

Mirrors like this make it easier to see around these steep and curvy roads.

I stopped here to let my engine cool down.





When no one else is around, I have to make myself laugh.







I've taken many turtles off the road and placed them safely in the in the grass, but this is the first snake I've saved. (Most snakes I pass have already been run over.) Using my frame pump, I gently prodded this snake until it got the idea and slithered away from the road.

View from the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I rode on the parkway for about 30 miles, and then my friend Laura picked me up. She picked me up and drove me back to her home in Staunton (pronounced Stan-tin) Virginia. For the last 2 days and 3 nights I've been visiting with Laura and her husband Sampsa. We've been relaxing, and listening to music, and talking about our summers. A big Thank You to Laura and Sampsa for housing me and feeding me for the last couple days! I've been traveling by myself for the last 32 days, and it's really nice to see a couple of familiar faces. When I finally get home and see my family and friends again I predict that I'll be smiling constantly.

If the names Laura and Sampsa seem familiar, it's because I mentioned them in a previous post (the post is titled "East Of The Mississippi"). Laura and Sampsa's wedding was the wedding that my sister Janice went to after she left the tour.

I'd also like to thank Thaddeus and Sarah Lee for letting Dave, Brian, Roger, and me stay at their home in Radford, Virginia. It's always incredible to go from the road to someone's home, and this was no exception. Thaddeus rode the TransAm back in '98 (with his two oldest sons) and it was really fun to swap stories from the road. Thanks again Thaddeus and Sarah!

Tomorrow Laura will drive me back to the Blue Ridge Parkway, and I'll continue traveling on my route. As always, thanks for stopping by and reading--I appreciate your interest.

Paradise

I'm sitting here typing in Hindman, a small town in eastern Kentucky that I'm guessing none of you have heard of. Following the TransAmerica Trail I've traveled through thousands of small towns. Some days I'll go through 10 or 20 little towns. Some are just a few houses and a post office. Many don't have schools or libraries. Hindman, with 767 people, has both. Small town names can be very interesting. Here's a small sample of some towns I've passed through recently: Vincent, Booneville, Chavies, Hazard, Dwarf, and Carrie. After I finish here I'll ride on to a town called Pippa Passes.

Hindman has a library, but because it's Saturday they are not open. But I found a store/art center that has a computer for the public to use. As I sit here and type I'm surrounded by photographs, pottery, tables, candles, wood carvings, quilts, and scarves. To my right, at the far end of the room a good quality radio is playing at a good volume. I'm enjoying the classic rock and oldies. And now that I've set up the scene, I can begin writing about the tour.

So today is Day 84 of my tour, and like I said I'm in eastern Kentucky. I'm only a day or two away from Virginia, which is my last state. I've been setting my watch to the Eastern Time Zone for a few days now, which feels good.

But yeah, 84 days on the road. The memories are beginning to pile up. As I ride I let my mind wander. Cycling and seeing new things stirs up my mind and new thoughts rise to the surface. I think about the 3 Englishmen--Dave, Roger, and Brian--who are cycling ahead of me. I'll probably see them at camp tonight. I see a new tree and stop to examine it. Eastern Hemlock I guess. My Audubon book confirms this. Tsuga canadensis. I don't have to sample trees today, but that doesn't mean I can't learn about the trees I see. I start riding again and soon I'm thinking about the hole in the back of my shorts. I only have one pair of cycling shorts and there is a small hole, about the size of a quarter, exposing some white flesh. For about the 100th time, I think about sewing up the hole. But I know I probably won't. Maybe I will. Another coal truck passes me and I start singing John Prine's "Paradise." The road is smooth and fast. There aren't as many steep hills as there were yesterday, and the riding is faster. Today is also cooler than yesterday. Probably in the high 80's, low 90's, which is quite nice with the breeze I get while riding. Yes, on a bicycle the windows are always rolled down. I think about two words, heat and humidity, and wonder how to work them into my next post. A sentence forms in my head: The days have been hot, but somewhere between the heat and humidity I make time for fun, and shade, and numbingly cold ice water. I'm not completely satisfied with the sentence, and I go back to singing the Prine song:

"When I was a child, my family would travel, down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born. And there's a backwards old town, that's often remembered, so many times that my memories are worn. And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County, down by the Green River where Paradise lay..."

Abraham Lincoln's Birthplace and The Lincoln Jamboree

At this place, on 12 February 1809, Abraham Lincoln was born.













I arrived here after a long day of riding. (The birthplace monument is near Hodgenville, Kentucky.) I walked up the steps and went inside. Inside there was an old log cabin. It was strange to see a building inside of another building. I stood there and stared for a few seconds. Over in the left hand corner, sitting behind a desk, a pretty park ranger was reading a book. I walked over to her. "Is this the actual cabin where Abe was born?" I asked. "No," she said, "but this one is probably very similar." "What year was Abe born," I asked. "1809," she said, like it was a reflex. "Have you ever been to the Lincoln Jamboree?" I asked. "No," she said. "Well I'm going tonight," I said. "I was up at Joel Ray's place, and I was looking at all the stuff they have in there--it's like a country music museum--and these really nice people offered to buy me a ticket. So I'm going. I think it's gonna be cool. This guy, Joel Ray, has been doing these shows every Saturday night for like 53 years!" "Yeah," said the ranger, "I've heard about that place, I've just never made it up there for a show." "Well," I said, "there's a show tonight..."



Inside those doors is a big room with lots of seats and a stage. That's the place where the Lincoln Jamboree happens.







I never did see the ranger at the show, but I did see Jerry and Bobbie, the kind people from Lexington who bought me a ticket. I sat next to them as Joel Ray and the band entertained the large crowd. Joel Ray was the emcee and in between songs he told stories and jokes. There were songs I knew and songs I didn't know. The drummer in the band, Charles Durham, had been playing in the band for over 50 years! They played "Will The Circle Be Unbroken," and "Rocky Top." A guest singer sang "Coal Miner's Daughter." There was an instrumental version of John Hartford's classic "Gentle On My Mind." The crowd cheered after the singer asked, "Does anyone here like Elvis?" The singer went on to sing "My Way." It was a good show and a really incredible place. A life size poster of Hank Williams watched over all those who went by. One of Elvis's stage suits stood in a glass case. Photographs of Elvis and Johnny Cash were everywhere. There were articles, and photos, and posters of country and bluegrass stars. Bill Monroe. Ernest Tubb. Dolly Parton. Roy Acuff. There were old records and autographed guitars. It was quite a place. I felt very lucky to be there on a Saturday Night, to witness a real, live Lincoln Jamboree.

Mammoth Cave National Park

Two days after Sebree I was at Mammoth Cave National Park, home of the world's longest cave system. I arrived in the evening and found the campground. I paid $17.00 for a site (no hiker/biker rates at this campground) and set up my tent. The ground was hard and I borrowed a hammer from my camp neighbors, Eric and Kay, who were from Pennsylvania. While returning the hammer, Eric asked me if I wanted some Chili. I said yes. And that began my two night friendship with Eric and Kay. That night we talked about cave tours. Eric and Kay had already been on a couple tours and I was planning on going on a tour in the morning. You see, the only way for the public to see the cave is to go on a tour.

The historic entrance to Mammoth Cave. This entrance is only a couple hundred yards behind the visitor center.

Standing here you can feel the cool air blowing out of the cave. The air in the cave is a steady 54 degrees, which feels really good on a hot summer day.


These wooden pipes are a couple hundred years old. They go back to the 1800's, when saltpeter (potassium nitrate) was being extracted from the cave in order to make gunpowder for the War Of 1812. These pipes were made out of hollowed out Tuliptrees (Liriodendron tulipifera), which have long, straight trunks.


The bottomless pit. That's what the old tour guides called it. Touring the cave by torchlight, this pit might have looked like it had no bottom. One clever--and famous--tour guide, Stephen Bishop, knew how to throw a rock so it would land in the pit without making a sound.


Huge, wide passageways. Some like this go on for miles.











After going on two tours, and spending 7 hours underground, I headed back to camp. Eric and Kay were still there. They let me pitch my tent on their site. And we spent the evening talking and enjoying out last night in the park. In the morning, Eric and Kay were headed back to Pennsylvania, and I was headed east.

Thanks Eric and Kay, the food and company was most appreciated!

Sebree, Kentucky

I few days back I took a rest day in Sebree, Kentucky. For two nights and one day I stayed at the First Baptist Church. There I experienced the hospitality of Pastor Bob and his wife Violet. A westbound cyclist named Stephanie also took a rest day in Sebree. Stephanie and I swapped stories from the road while we rested. There was juggling and homemade banana ice cream. I wrote in my journal and made a few phone calls. And I spent several hours on Violet and Bob's computer.

On my second night in Sebree another cyclist named Steven showed up. Steven arrived right as Violet, Stephanie, and I were working on dinner. Violet kindly instructed me to show Steven where he would be staying. So I took Steven around to the back of the church and showed him the spacious youth room, which is where the cyclists stay. I then walked back up to Bob and Violet's home--which is right next to the church--so I could continue helping Stephanie make another batch of banana ice cream.

It was another fine dinner. And in the morning we all packed up and headed our own separate directions. Thanks again Bob and Violet, your hospitality was incredible!

My New Riding Costume

I'm standing in Illinois, getting ready to take the ferry across the Ohio river and into Kentucky.

So I got this new shirt about a week ago, and I've been wearing it everyday. It has great sun protection and it also makes me more visible for passing cars. The long sleeves also protect me from the insects and the poison ivy when I sample trees.

Thanks Bob

Yesterday I woke up and decided to have a Dylan day. I got out my iPod and started things off with "Tangled Up In Blue." I followed that up with "Idiot Wind." And not long after that I found myself riding and listening to "Desolation Row." I listened to the Highway 61 Revisited version first and then a few other versions, including the MTV Unplugged version. After a good, long visit with "Desolation Row" I moved on to another one of my favorites, a song called "Dignity." After "Dignity" I put away the iPod and stopped to sample trees.


I listened to "Diamond Joe" in the heat of the afternoon, with sweat pouring off my face.





I listened to "Mississippi" as I followed the open road into evening's coolness.








I finished the day laying in my sleeping bag listening to the old song, "Boots of Spanish Leather," and the much newer song, "Workingman's Blues #2."

Thanks for the music, Bob. My iPod wouldn't be the same without you.

A Sweet Sunset

When I stopped to take this photo the air smelled really good. It was right before Illinois, right before I crossed the Mississippi River, and for about half a mile the air smelled like sweet, buttery muffins. I had no idea where the smell was coming from, because there were cornfields in every direction, but somewhere out there someone must have been doing some baking.

The Big Ring

Goin' fast. Ridin' in the Big Ring. Maybe there's a downhill. Maybe there's a tailwind. Maybe I'm cranking hard to get over a small hill. I shift to the big ring. It feels good to stand up, to pedal, to stretch. I power the pedals with a few hard cranks and then sit back and glide along, letting my momentum carry me. The right gear combination for the right terrain. The big ring makes things possible.

Finding Treasure

I found this 1/2'' socket extension on the side of the road. It's just one of many tools that I've found. Every couple weeks I mail some of the things I accumulate home. I don't take every tool I find, I just take the ones I like, or the ones I know I'll use. Maybe when I get home I'll photograph them all and make a post.

I look forward to the future treasures that I might find in the last 1,000 miles that separate me from Yorktown, Virginia--the eastern terminus of the TransAmerica Trail.

At The Horse Creek Inn

John, Barb, and Irv, three westbound cyclists, siting outside the Horse Creek Inn (formerly known as the Houston Motel) in Houston, MO. Pony and his wife Eya have owned and operated the hotel for less than one year. With their kindness and renovation skills, they have turned the old hotel into an oasis for cyclists.

Janice and I first heard about the Horse Creek Inn back when we were in Kansas. Hundreds of miles later, I was there enjoying Pony and Eya's hospitality. I shared a hotel room with John, and in doing so I learned that we had much in common. We talked for hours about guitars and music and bicycle touring.


A big, beautiful bowl of pasta.

Thanks again Pony and Eya! You all are awesome!

Photographs From Missouri

Janice and me standing in the forest off the side of the road. This was site 28, and it turned out to be the last time I sampled trees with Janice. Sampling trees by myself takes a little longer, but I'm ok with that. The Megatransect will continue.
A piece of pie I shared with Janice. Flavor: Caribbean Pumpkin. Source: Cooky's Cafe, Golden City, MO.

That was some good pie.







Fred's Fish House, Ash Grove, MO.

Janice and I went in here to ask directions and the people were so friendly that we talked to them for about 40 minutes. This is where we met Jacob, who offered to drive us to the Greyhound station.













Jacob Hodge with Janice and me. Place: Cici's Pizza, where the all you can eat pizza and salad bar is only $4.49.
Janice and I saw this creation the day we rode to Ash Grove, MO. There were a few other bicycle sculptures about the property, but this one was my favorite.

East Of The Mississippi River

I'm in Carbondale, Illinois and it's about 11:00 in the morning. This library is surprisingly crowded, considering how hot and humid it is outside. It's been one week since Janice left the tour and things are going well for me. I'm getting used to the solo travel thing, although not all of my traveling has been solo.

Yesterday, on my way to Carbondale, I met two other cyclists who were headed east, like me. They were from Vanersborg, Sweden and their names were Nisse and Daniel. Nisse (pronounced knees-ah) and Daniel are a father and son team (Nisse is the father) and their cycling adventure started in San Francisco. Daniel has diabetes, and they are cycling across the continent as a way to raise money for diabetes research. Here is their site. (Nisse's blog uses some English.)

I spent the afternoon riding with Nisse and Daniel, and while we rode we talked. Having people to ride with made the day go much faster and soon we were in Carbondale, planning our afternoon. The Simpsons Movie was opening and Nisse and Daniel were excited to see it. Also wanting to see the movie, I joined their mission. Together, we found the theater, bought tickets, ate lunch, and found a hotel room. Nisse and Daniel were kind, and invited me to share a room with them. After swimming and showering we walked back to the mall. Before the movie, we enjoyed a few cold beers and talked about cycling, traveling, and about our countries. We also talked about a sport called bandy, a Nordic sport that I had never heard of.

The movie was funny, and having friends to pass the evening with was most appreciated. Thanks Nisse and Daniel! It was great to meet you both and to share time with you all. I wish you well on your travels.

I'd also like to thank Jacob Hodge, who drove Janice and I to the Greyhound station back in Springfield, MO. We met Jacob at Fred's Fish House the night before Janice was going to leave. Janice and I were planning our ride to Springfield and trying to figure things out when Jacob offered to drive us. Thanks Jacob, you made Janice's last day of the tour smooth, safe, and fun!

Well, it's time for me to say goodbye and head out into the humidity. I only have about 45 miles to ride today, but I do have to stop and sample trees. I called the campground I'll probably be staying at tonight and they do have showers. (It's always nice to wash off any spiderwebs I might walk through while sampling trees.)

As I ride east today, my thoughts will be with Janice's friends Laura and Sampsa, who will be getting married this afternoon. Congratulations Laura and Sampsa! I wish you both the best! Janice has been talking about your wedding for the last two months, and I know she is very excited to be there. I can't wait to see the photos!

Things Have Changed

Janice and me inside the Springfield, Missouri Greyhound station.

Why were we at the Greyhound station? Well, as some of you may know, Janice needed to leave the tour so she could go to her friend Laura's wedding. (Janice is going to be one of the bridesmaids.)

We talked about many possibilities, but Janice's final decision was that it would be better if she stayed home after the wedding. Staying home will mean that Janice can go to Ireland with her boyfriend Chad and Chad's family. And it also means that Janice will be able to spend more time with family and friends before she goes to Spain in September (Janice will be living in Madrid and teaching English for 9 months starting mid September). It was hard for Janice to leave me--and to leave the tour--but knowing that we had 2 awesome months of traveling made it seem ok. Adventures are good and important, but Janice was wise to give family and friends the higher priority. Besides, Janice can always ride the last 1,300 miles another summer.

So now I'm traveling solo. It's different, and I knew that things were different the moment we said goodbye at the Greyhound station. The tour just wouldn't be the same without Janice. All the conversations, the meals, the jokes, the photographs, the smells and sounds of the road--we shared so much for so long. So instead of missing Janice, and missing what we had, I knew I needed a new outlook. A new attitude. A fresh coat of paint, maybe even a new color. I decided to view the remainder of this tour as a new tour, a completely different adventure, because that's exactly what it will be.

In future posts I will write about traveling solo. But to finish out this post, I want to go back and remember some of the good times Janice and I had.

If you know Janice, you know that she is a soft spoken person. Out there on the road, with the wind and sounds of passing cars, I couldn't always hear what she would say. I said "What?" quite a few times. Early on, this would cause tension, but as time went by, the "whats" became a thing of beauty, a springboard for humor. Sometimes I'd repeat what I thought Janice said. "Did you just say: 'French fry master'?" I'd ask. "No," said Janice a little louder, "I said let's ride faster."

And then there's Janice's tree identification skills. She was quite good at IDing new trees (probably because Janice is very determined and very patient). And when we were out there in the forest, sweating and swatting mosquitoes, it was a big help to have Janice pull though with the right tree at the right time.

And then there were the nights where we huddled in our tent and watched The Office on Janice's iPod. We'd chuckle quietly as the crickets and cicadas sang their nightly song.

I could go on and on remembering the golden moments and writing about how great it was to travel with my sister, but I think you get the idea: it was pretty great. Over the last 3,000 miles we digested a large portion of America. The West Coast and the Pacific Ocean. The Cascade Range and Oregon. The Rocky Mountains and the wide open valleys that run along beside them. The farms and fields and friendly people of Kansas. Thanks Jan! We had an incredible journey that we will never forget! It was a privilege and a joy to ride with you. I know we'll be out there again, in the not too distant future, but until then we will have all the wonderful memories from this summer.

Tour Update

The terrain has been flatter. The days have been hotter. The air: more humid. Tonight we camp in Eureka, Kansas, a small town east of Wichita.

Over this past weekend, Janice and I had the good fortune to meet and stay with my good friend Jake Belvin. Jake was driving to California. He detoured from his route and met us in Hutchinson, Kansas. (Although the town's name is Hutchinson, everyone we met called it Hutch.) We spent two nights and one day with Jake, resting and feasting, before we said goodbye and continued on our way.

Having Jake on tour with us was great, but Jake was not the first person to meet us on the road. Back when we were in Colorado, our friend Gabe drove down from Denver to meet us in Canon (pronounced Canyon) City.

Thanks Gabe, and thanks Jake. It was awesome to meet you guys on the road. And also thanks to Darin and Julie, who sheltered and fed us on a cold and rainy night back in Fairplay, Colorado.

Because some of you may be tuning in for the first time, and because we've been on the road for a while, now might be a good time for a tour review. 59 days ago, Janice and I started riding our bicycles down the coast of Oregon. We rode across Oregon and across Idaho and into Montana. We headed southeast through Montana, into Wyoming, and then into Colorado. After dropping out of the Rocky Mountains, we crossed eastern Colorado and then rode into Kansas. Distance covered so far: 2,616 miles.

After Kansas, we ride into Missouri. Then comes Illinois, Kentucky, and finally, Virginia. To see if our tour will be coming to a town near you, examine our route here.

Looking To The East

My blog marathon is almost over. I've been writing for a while and I hope you enjoy the posts. It will make more sense if you start with Great People and Great Parks (Part 1) and read up. I thought about writing less, and posting fewer photos, but I decided against it. I dove deep, and stretched out, and in doing so I remembered a quote that my friend Graham told me: Everything in moderation including moderation.

Tomorrow, on the 4th Day of July, Janice and I will leave Dillon and ride south. When we get to Pueblo, Colorado we will ride east, and that will be our general direction for the rest of the tour. Pueblo will be the halfway point of the tour--from there we will have a little over 2,000 miles to go. In Pueblo we will send home the western tree books and any warm clothes that we are still carrying. We will leave The West and into The East.

A special thank you to Deb and John who have fed, sheltered, and driven us around for the last four days. We have enjoyed the resting, and the movies, and the meals, and, most importantly, the good company.

Green Rocks At Red Rocks

The night we arrived in Dillon, Colorado was the same night that there was a concert at Red Rocks. John and Nathan from Team Believe actually told us about the concert, and Deb got us tickets. We had to go. Deb drove us down from the mountains to Morrison. We parked the car and walked up. This is the view walking up to the venue.


When we walked into the amphitheatre The John Butler Trio was playing. I was captivated by the rock, and the crowd, and the music. I pulled out my camera and took this photo.



The view from the top of the venue.


It was dark and city lights of Denver were shining when Michael Franti & Spearhead took the stage. The band came out swinging and fireworks exploded in the sky.


The band played on. We moved down closer to the action. The VIP passes helped.


Deb received a free ticket to the concert because she volunteered at the Eco-Cycle booth. Eco-Cycle was just one of the many green groups that were present at the first ever Green Rocks at Red Rocks. Deb got the free ticket, but all three of us got VIP passes thanks to Deb's friends at Eco-Cycle.

The Green Rocks show got Janice and I thinking. What can we do? We shop for groceries almost everyday. That's 2-3 plastic bags that we consume everyday. Not anymore. Here in Dillon we bought reusable grocery bags. The bag I bought was made by a company called ChicoBag.

Here's what it says on my bag's tag: "ChicoBags can save the average American 300 to 700 plastic shopping bags per year, which will save 3 to 7 gallons of crude oil. A population of 100,000 people can save up to 14,000 barrels of oil per year using reusable bags."

The bag Janice bought was made by 1 Bag At A Time. And they also have some pretty interesting facts up on their website.

Some Of The Places We've Camped

When we pulled into Kremmling, Colorado we were very surprised to find a couple thousand cyclists camping at the high school. We rode in and found a spot on the grass inside the track. As we talked to some of the cyclists, we learned that we had just crashed the final campsite of the 2007 Bicycle Tour of Colorado.

Our campsite back in Rawlins, Wyoming. We paid for this one, $4.00 each. There were hot showers and the wall blocked the Wyoming wind.


Me with Walli and Klaus, near our campsite in Riverside, Wyoming.

Klaus and Walli are from outside Hamburg, Germany. They are riding westbound on the TransAm. Janice and I enjoyed talking to them because we are considering a European bike tour.

Looks Like Rain

When we came to the Colorado border the wind was blowing and the sky was brooding. Temping the clouds, I started singing a few lines from the Grateful Dead's "Looks Like Rain." The sky grew darker still. But after eating three open face peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, this rainbow appeared. We rode into Colorado and the rain held off.

Team Believe

Team Believe: Clare, Nathan, Michael, John, Megan, and Sarah.

We met Team Believe in Rawlins, Wyoming. Like Janice and I, they are riding west to east on the TransAmerica Trail, but Team Believe is riding faster than we are. They average more miles per day, and they rarely take rest days. Because of time constraints, they are pushing themselves to finish the tour as soon as they can. Many of the team members are triathletes, which seems to help them crank out the miles. Not only are they riding the TransAm at a blistering pace, but they are also raising money that will be donated to help with cancer research.

Ride on Team Believe. We wish you well.

Cicadas, Trees, and the Megatransect

The megatransect part of our tour is going well. We've sampled 20 sites so far. This photo was taken near Site 18 (mile 1,538). Going east across Wyoming trees were not all that abundant down by the road. We could see forests up on the mountains, but we couldn't get to them very easily. So when this little patch of forest came along I was very happy. It was hot and dry when we sampled here and we were getting low on water.

This is a close up of the leaves of the Utah Juniper (Juniperus osteosperma), which was the dominant species in this forest.
This, I believe, is a cicada (genus and species unknown). These insects were flying around and making lots of noise in and about the juniper trees.


And this is me after we finished sampling. The work was done and I was happy to get out of the still heat and back on the bike where there is always a breeze. If you click on this photo you can zoom in see the sunscreen in my beard. I call it my white beard. If you look close, you can also see the top of a coiled up rope. The rope is used to mark the boundaries of each 10-meter by 10-meter module. We sample 6 of these modules and it usually takes about 1-2 hours depending on: how we're feeling, how many new species we have to identify, and what the terrain is like.