RideTheLightning

Here’s to doing it all over again.

From the Sam Woolf disposable camera catalog.

Big Thanks

To Joseph Borden for dontating to us through KIVA.

Big Thanks

To Whitney Borden for dontating to us through KIVA! She’s a quality woman.

A long time coming. From sea to shining sea.

touchdown. looking absolutely ridiculous.

A few imagined moments play on repeat when you’re riding your bike across the country. The beach moment played a lot. We would wade into the Atlantic Ocean, bike in tow, look out on beautiful white surf welcoming us to the other edge of the country and we would know that we had  actually finished what we set out for three months ago. It’s always perfectly sunny. Maybe Beach going bystanders are cheering, mothers are crying, young children extend their hands for high fives as we cruise past. You get the idea. Sunday afternoon was almost there.

We left Wellesly with only 15 tedious miles to ride on Rt 9. Traffic and potholes make us cranky and Rt 9 had plenty of both. After a couple stops in Dorchester for lunch supplies and the obligatory bottle of Champagne (for spraying everywhere in victory), we sort of just ended up by the beach. No fanfare, no screaming fans, just sort of there. So we parked in the grass for a bit, ate enough food to kill the grouchiness and had our celebration. There wasn’t any foaming surf either, but the sun was shining and the muddy beaches of South Boston seemed perfect anyway.

Back wheel in the Pacific. Front in the Atlantic. For all you heavy on symbolism...doneski.

It’s done. We made it. Didn’t learn from the hefty Oregon beach charade and subjected ourselves to the herniating experience of shouldering bikes across sand again. Worth it though. We spent the next 4 hours piled out in the grass napping and making some phone calls before riding back along the Charles to cousin Monte’s apartment in Cambridge.

We’ll spend the next week cruising around Boston doing to Dew then head our separate ways solo style for the ride home. 120 miles for Aidan. 220 for Sam. 215 for BJ. The last of the last. Clay, we missed you big time out there. We’ll get some more trip recap up in the coming days. . Thanks to everyone for coming along for the ride. We had a blast. Best bike trip across the country yet.

After about 20 minutes of self timers and failed tripoding, some nice soul took pity and took our picture.

Mmmm. Bike pushing through mud. BJ and Sam head West.

Another impressive pose. Self-timed photos lend themselves to powerful pictures.

Woooo! Brown bagging a bottle of the bubbly. Sampagne celebrating.

Big Thanks

To David Woolf and Joel Parker for dontating to us through KIVA.

We’ve officially surpassed the thousand dollar mark! Thanks again to everyone for the continued support.

A Walk in The Woods.

sunset.

If someone were to have asked us way back in Montana sometime, how we envisioned crossing into the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I can assure you that no Lightning member would have predicted Thursday evening’s scenario. Even as of late Thursday afternoon, we had no idea we would find ourselves ankle deep in mud, miles from the highway, pushing our bikes up a path all but lost in the woods. Then again, if there is anything this trip has taught us, it’s that anything can happen. That, and it’s going to rain. 

We have to back up a bit to get the whole story in. About 4:30 we were parked at an Elementary school just short West Lebanon, NY, looking over the remaining 20 miles of our ride. It was hot. We were tired. One route, the one derived from the “map”, formed a large triangle that led us South through Lebanon, NY  before jogging back North towards our final destination in Pittsfeild, MA. The other route was a nice  purple line on BJ’s iphone heading perfectly East to West. We needed only to make a few turns on some country roads and we would surely cut off some 5 or 6 miles. Fantastic. Let’s go for it.

By the first turn we were already grumbling. Grumbling is par for the course out here on the road though and so long as we were all in agreement we figured why not. Let’s go for it.

The second turn brought more bad news, two roads, one unmarked, both bearing the warning “Dead End’. No matter, it’s probably just a blockade for car traffic, we’ll go around and have the road to ourselves. Go for it. We even stopped to ask a father and son pulling out of their driveway. They smiled recognizing our mistake,

‘Oh yeah, that road hasn’t been there for 30 or 40 years, sometimes it shows up on people’s GPS and they have come back down.’ But, they promised us, “There is a path, I bet it would be okay on bicycles…go for it.’ 

So we did. Up Old Mtn Rd, passed the culvert, the no trespassing sign and, very quickly, the pavement. We had done gravel, what’s a little low gear trail riding. Go for it.

About 1/2 mile in we were pushing our bikes. The trail had proved too steep and too a rocky for our slick tires and 70 pound bicycles, but there were fresh ATV tracks and we were bound and determined to have our shortcut. 

The local advice we got promised the trail was no more than 3 or 4 miles.  We alternated between pushing, dragging and some nimble coasting were able to do at least 3 pretty easily. Still, no sign of the otherside and Pittsfield. Cue thunder, lightning and driving rain. Yup, the “road” we were following leveled in the bottom of the valley just as the menacing clouds that had been chasing us all day decided to let loose. It poured. And as we sloshed along in drenching rain and near darkness our trusty trail decided to fork in three different directions. All with their own logical explanations: East, down and the most well travelled. 

We stood for a  few fateful moments (just a few) and recited Survivor Man mantras and made mental preparations for how and where we would camp in the woods. Really, we would have been fine. We had the gear, the food, and the dry clothes stuffed away, but it’s hard to not flash through worse case scenarios. 

We eventually tried all the options. The first of which we actually tried twice, the second time continuing on far enough to learn it was actually the correct way.

The storm broke and we caught the sunset that opens this post. Spirits were restored. The road out grew to resemble something a little more traversable and we wound down the hill out onto pavement again. And then there on the side of the road, Lebanon, NY. We’d flubbed our shortcut somehow. Either the road didn’t go through, or, more likely, we’d taken a goat path that wasn’t the iphone road at all. Oh well. We were out and now completely soaked, muddied and half devoured by mosquitos we peddled the final couple hundred yards up highway 20 to cross over the state line into Massachusetts.

I’ve Got a Gal and Her Name is Sal…

Yup, you know the rest - “15 miles on the Erie Canal”.  Welp, for us, it was more like 400 miles along the Erie Canal.  We made tracks from Ashtabula (location of our last lame blog post sans working photos - now working and complete!) up to Erie, PA to meet up with my Aunt and Uncle.  They drove up from Butler, PA to intercept us and grace us to some fantastic company and a wonderful dinner on the shores of Lake Erie.  Great times and many thanks from us here at RTL mobile headquarters.  That night was spent in a modern day Gypsy Camp, complete with everything from permanently parked RV trailers to a cluster mess of tents on the beach nearly sharing stakes with one another.  We met some interesting folks that night, to say the least.  

Camp spot in Erie, PA. The modern day gypsy village.

We headed north east out of Erie, still following closely the shores of the great lake.  We made it to Angola-On-The-Beach, a bit shy of our goal of Buffalo, NY.  We hummed and hawed for a bit, riding some 15 miles up and down the shores trying to find a so called “campground” that allows tents, and failed to do so.  Luckily for us, a riggotta was in town and the town had OK’ed for them to tent in the park.  We cooked dinner elsewhere, waiting for night to fall, and, under the cover of darkness, slinked into the park and set up our tents.  It was a ragging party with music blaring and first-time drunkards stumbling around, but we fell fast asleep, as per the norm.  

Buffalo proved to be no different than any other urban metropolis that we’ve been challenged to navigate, complete with a flat tire, dead end roads, wrong turns, and less than 30 miles under our belt by 2pm.  But we made it thru there no worse for the wear and pinned it up north to Lockport, NY, from which the annual Erie Canal Bicycle Tour was leaving that same day.  Later that afternoon in downtown Lockport, we met up with the lagging members of the tour, managed to scrounge a map of the Canal Path out of one generous soul, and were back on our steeds in high spirits.  We began cranking down the crushed stone path, kicking up a wake of dust and dirt, covering ourselves and our bicycles in a dusty layer.  We began passing the tourers, some 500 of them, all setting out for 8 days along the canal trail (we only gave ourselves 4 days - nice planning).  We decided that we ought to see the accommodations - to get a taste of what camping with 500 people looks like -  so we rode into the tour camp some 20 miles down the canal trail.  It was tent city madness.  There was even a company that, for a fee, would set up your tent, inflate you air mattress, and pack it all up in the morning.  Now thats livin’.  Sometime later that evening, as BJ was stopped taking a pee along the trail, he spotted a rope swing, dangling some 30 feet above an algae covered pond.  With a simple hand gesture, a bit of nervous chitter chatter, it was on.  BJ first.  Sent it.  Made it.  Still alive.  Next Aidan.  Then I.  It was glorious.

Practice swing. More fun then actually dropping into the water below

The Erie Canal Path proved to be an absolute schedule saver and all around gem for us.  We made some serious mileage along the mostly flat trail, cutting nearly due East from Lockport to Albany in 4 days.  We met some characters, hung out with some modern day River Pirates (the classy folks keeping the locks in operation), and had some beautiful weather.  It was when we left the trail in Albany, making ready to cross the border into Mass (our final state), that the weather and trouble - or dare say adventure - hit…..

On the road again. IL, IN, OH. Not for the taint of heart.

UPDATED: Now with Photos!!!

I feel like every post of ours begins with some kind of apology. Well, here’s no different. The dinosaur computer here in Ashtabula, OH, won’t let us upload our pictures so we’ve only got the one (taken via iphone). Luckily it’s a keeper. Grandma Kinsey met up with us in Syracuse, Indiana, and treated us to a fine feast in the park. It was both delicious and plentiful, the latter probably being the most stringent requirement here at RTL. We were downright stuffed and happy. Big thanks!

BJ and Grandma Kinsey behind a delicious spread.

****

The past five days have been a whirlwind. We’re making decent time (ahead of our allotted 75 miles a day goal) and enjoying some hot mid-western sunshine.

The whirlwind effect has really come on for three reasons. The first, I just mentioned. It’s hot. And spending 13 hours in the sun bends anyone’s mind a little, but add in some pedaling, some marginal navigating (no names here) and the bumps and ruts that come with heavily trafficked roads and you’ve got yourself a recipe for madness. It hasn’t gotten there quite yet, but we’re bracing. The second issue facing us is one we anticipated but haven’t been able to come to terms with. In populated places you can’t sleep on the ground where ever you fall. I know it sounds unfair, we think so too.  Gone are the days of Nebraskan public parks beckoning us with their lush green grass and bountiful amenities (plugs, water, REAL bathrooms). Instead, we have been met by the law on consecutive evenings and found ourselves sleeping tentless on a tarp until dawn before slinking off to the absolute nearest available coffee where we then grace unknowing gas station attendants with our entire morning routine. It’s not terrible, but it ain’t the sheets and quilts of Glen Ellyn either.

Which brings me to the third and final issue plaguing this last stretch. We’ll call it “the softening”. The Chicago layover was fantastic. Wouldn’t have it any other way. But the effects of no bike riding for almost three weeks made themselves screamingly known the morning of our second day when we lowered ourselves into the saddle for the first time. Conditioning is still ok but the callousing gained through the Plains is long gone. Hopefully by New York we will be tough again.

Thanks to both BJ’s grandmothers for finding, and feeding, us on the road, and for hailing the local presses (we may have newspaper notoriety coming, check Edgerton, Ohio publications). Tonight we plan to ride another 40 or so to Erie, Penn, and meet up with Sam’s aunt and uncle. Maybe we’ll find a camp spot where ‘the man’ won’t hassle us.

We’ll get some pretty pictures up when technology permits. To let you know what you can expect, we’ve recently switched form corn to wheat fields (this is exciting) been graced with some Great Lake views and swim time, and of course, you’ll see all our tired attempts at “campsites.”

The photos at long last!

Big Thanks

To Herb Payson for dontating to us through KIVA.

We’re approaching the thousand dollar mark! Thanks again to everyone for the continued support.

Onward

Oh, what a time we’ve had. Glen Ellyn, big city Chicago, Indiana lake house, and feasting all the way. It’s been an amazing two-and-a-half weeks, a lifetime away from our last day riding, but the time has come again. Onward. We leave in a few frantic minutes headed East through Chicago and then eventually skirting the great lakes through Indiana and Ohio.  We’ve got exactly two weeks to make our date in Boston and a 1000 mile tab racked up. Hopefully our sublime luck continues. We will try our best to get more updates from the road despite the time crunch. Thank you all again for your continued interest and support.

Also, an enormous thank you to the Mr. and Mrs. Kinsey and the entire Kinsey clan for their incredible hospitality. The 4th in Glen Ellyn will be one to remember, even despite a little Ride the Lightning foul weather.

A Taste of Chicago/Glen Ellyn over the Fourth.

Smelly wind blowin’ The Great Bike Ride Across Iowa

Quintessential Iowa

Here we sit, in beautiful Galena, IL, after another state down with no bloggage to show for it. Our apologoies, it’s just easier to be out riding bikes than it is internettin’ away.

 Iowa was good to us. It’s an incredibly bike friendly state. RAGBRAI, the Register’s Annual Great Bike Across Iowa–some years 14,000 strong–is on the tip of every local’s tongue when you pull into town. The weeklong tour of Iowa is usually the last weekend of July, but, for your average yokel with zero knowledge of that dang bicyclin’ with bags thing, RAGBRAI is a good common place to start chatting. So yes, we admit it does sound fun, but we’re happy to be a state away from anymore RAGBRAI conversations.

The trip had some real highlights through Iowa, despite BJ’s insistent muttering that ‘this was the worst state ever’. Persistent headwinds and a few run-ins with sour locals will change any man’s opinion of a place.

We didn’t pay for camping once. On more than one occasion, locals came out to greet us in the park, asked if we were planning on staying the night, and then notified the proper authorities to ensure we weren’t bothered. That’s some farm town hospitality. The weather was better than in Nebraska, although we still managed to bring the inevitable day/night of rain and ride into a couple days worth of headwind. We’re actually thinking of changing the name of the tour to “Ride the Partly Cloudy Skies” in hopes of better results. We’ll see.

In Lawton, IO, right outside Sioux City, we were invited to join the community in celebrating the telephone company’s 60th birthday over brats and cake. We accepted and made friends with some old folks that were so proud of us it was almost embarrassing. They shovelled cake at us, pushed us up in the BBQ line and notified everyone within unreasonable earshot of our journey. I just managed to stop our cheerleading friends from hailing the local newspaper photog and putting RTL on the frontpage. Still, it always feels good to have someone treat you like you’re taking on a superhuman feat (even if it’s only by contrast to their epic 50 mile tractor ride).

Iowa was not without its shortcomings, though. It blew. That is to say, the wind blew. It blew hard, all day long for three days in a row. It was hard too, because when you looked to the horizon and saw hundreds of wind turbines facing the direction the wind was coming from, you knew that wind wasn’t changing.

The other terrrible part of Iowa  is that it smells. Yes, we know, Iowa farmers feed America, yadda yadda, but it stinks. Hog barns especially. And if you’ll pardon the language for a minute, they smell like shit. Terrible, terrible piles of pig excrement  that is  blown out the side of the barns with industrial fans designed to clear the noxious fumes because pigs excrete Amonia. So really, it smells like shit sprayed with Windex…terrible. Try huffing it down while hauling into a 15 mile-an-hour headwind and it gives you an idea of why BJ feels the way he does about Iowa.

But really it was a great couple of days, maybe we’ll be back for RAGBRAI.We’re getting the boot again here. Libraries love their rules. More to come from Chicago in a few days when we touch down.

Casper, Douglas and A Visit From Friends

Last week we made the push to Casper, WY knowing that it would be the closest point all summer to Boulder and all our friends that live there. Hoping for a mid-trip, mid-country, reunion, we got on the horn and laid the guilt on as thick as we possibly could.

“Oh, we’ve biked so far, can’t you just drive a couple of hours up north to see us?”

“It’s, like, only 3 hours.” (It took them almost 5)

“No, yeah, you’re right, I mean, that is a lot of driving. I guess we should have just spent the extra two weeks riding our bicycles down to Boulder instead.”

As of Friday night, not a Boulder friend was biting.

Whitney had already driven up early Friday from Steamboat with loaves of banana bread, bags of cookies and five bowls of curried chicken salad (delicious and amazing). We spent much of dinner Friday night whining about our friends not making the drive to Wyoming.

While we rode the 52 miles to Douglas on Saturday, Whitney made her way ahead to town and conspired and configured a plan involving a car full of Boulder pals and a perfect campsite–funny how much more time in the day we’d have if we could just manage a zippin’ 75 mph on the Interstate. Well, low and behold we rolled into Douglas on Saturday afternoon to find a motley crew of Boulder’s finest lounging around a giant Jackalope in the center of town. Will, Jeff, Dan, Kristy and Ben had piled into Will’s Suby and hauled on up. It was awesome. You are all the very best of friends. Sorry for all our whining.

The best spot for group (loud) camping turned out to be about 25 miles outside of town in the Medicine Bow mountains. We parked the bikes at the police station–our best bet for security in a dodgy-looking-town– piled into two cars and headed south. It was a perfect reunion. Campfire, grilled meat, revelry, Wyoming stars and a little cooperation from the weather made it all happen. We couldn’t ask for any better….and thank you to WILL KUNTZELMANN, blog fan, blog reader, car driver, motivator and blog enthusiast.

We have been so lucky to have friends on our route and it makes this great trip all the more extraordinary to be able to share it with good folks along the way. It even softens the sting of hail and rain when your sleeping in a horse stall at the fairgrounds two days later in Lusk, WY. That was last night, and really, it wasn’t so bad.

Thanks again for coming to see us. Today we’re off to Nebraska. Over and out.

Kids in the park.

Picture of a picture. Happy crowd, minus Whitney, the Polaroid photog.

CLAY! WE MISS YOU! CALL US! HOW DEM KNEES? CHICAGO?

East Bound and Down: Trying to be the best at exercisin’

This post will be light on the words and heavy on the photos. A few responses we’ve gotten so far have lead us to believe that people a). prefer photos and b). barely read our thoughtfully written posts. That, and we’re in a hurry to get back out on the road and on to Douglas.

Since climbing the hill out of Jackson, we’ve descended into the basin and range of central Wyoming and left ourselves at the mercy of the state’s persistent winds. Some days they push us along and we are all smiles and chit chat, and some days they shove back and its cursing and a heavy grind–most days it’s a little of both.

We left the Trans-Am trail outside of Dubois and have been making our own way across route 26 through Casper and Douglas. The roads are long with slow rolling hills and the towns, when we finally get to them, are sometimes not even towns at all. A stretch of road coming out of Riverton, WY, left us with only one possible store option (a dicey one at that) for over 70 miles. And not a sign in sight hinting at the empty road ahead. We did get a few good signs in the past few days, though. Here’s three that paint a picture of the ground we’ve covered. The first is from our campsite outside Riverton where, apparently, all rules are explained as thoroughly and directly as possible. The second two are from our only service stop in 70 miles in Hiland, WY, a one horse and four mangy dog town.

Love the quotation marks. The down home nature of the thing just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

More pictures and captions to come we’re out of time here.

Jackson, WY and a Heck of a Day Off.

Sometime late Saturday night we decided that we would take the detour to Jackson, WY and see the sights. I called my old friend Andy Lex, from High Cascade digger fame, and asked if we could pitch a tent in the backyard. He did us one better and turned the heat on in the garage to dry the stuff out and put us up inside under the roof. What a guy. 

Andy was down to take us into town for the long-awaited burger experience. We ended up with double-pattied beef and buffalo burgers and a pitcher of dark lager at Jackson’s brew pub. When in Rome. With us fed, laundered and tire patched (Jackson has claimed 4 tubes so far) we laid down at Lex’s beautiful hillside pad, but not before Andy suggested we help him get in his practice running the Snake river in a raft the next morning. The Snake river is running about 18,000 cfs right now. A lot of water for a little river.

In the grand tradition of taking people up on whatever they offer, we jumped aboard early this morning. 45 degree water and relatively little paddlin’ experience on our end left us a little nervous about our chances navigating sans frost bite. The ride ended up not being too cold and more rompus than scary. They suited us up in some incredible MC Hammer blue-man-group lookin’ suits and we paddled when we were supposed to and made it down just fine. Thanks Jonathan and Andy for setting us up with such a good time. 

We got some BBQing and a little B-ball gaming in up at the man spot to make sure we did Memorial Day right before heading down here to hang with Sam’s Vermont pals Jacki and company for some computer and internet. Another big thanks is in order to Jacki, Julie, Lisa, and Sarah for opening their doors and allowing us to bust a mean hang here on the living room floor to update the blog and partake in the movie marathon already underway (oh yea, 21, Napolean Dynamite, and The Waterboy).

Tomorrow we’ll climb Togwotee Pass before heading down to the plains and wave goodbye to the mountains.  At something around 9,200 feet, it should be a good one. The 25 mile downhill that we’re promised on the other side has us pretty excited, too. 

More to come from the flat lands and windy Wyoming. 

(Also, if you’ve noticed, Clay helped us luddites get the Twitter thing working so we’re updating on the regular in the upper right hand corner.)

Tres Amigos

At long last, we successfully met up with BJ in Ennis (transported by childhood friends John and Gretchen, along with K-9 companions Cash and McKinley).  We all five camped along the river for the night, ate Elk steak (that John shot with his bow), and chatted.  Good change of pace for me and Aidan.  Morning came with some Elk-erizo (Elk Chorizo) breakfast burritos.  A casual start and we were off.  John and Gretchen came with us for about 20 miles, and we looked like a fearsome pack - a forced to be reckoned with.  

Just before the road went downhill, we parted ways, with a backdrop of snow covered hills and amber waves of grain.  Not a house to be seen.  They went West.  We went East. It was one of the most spectacular places I’ve ever said farewell.  We plodded on and toughed out a not so welcoming headwind for the second half of the ride.  It was a tedious 74 miles to West Yellowstone.  And no, we didn’t really give BJ much of a warm up - it was a tough ride even for us after three full weeks on the road.   But he made it.  And still smiling.  Into the park the following day after a bit of a chaotic morning of bike repair, post offices, and some forgotten items in town.  We were on the road though, and cruised through Yellowstone Park at a biking pace.  It is an absolutely amazing way to see the park, and I highly recommend it - far over driving.  Biking allows for all of the senses to be stimulated - you dont get to experience the smell of a decaying, rain soaked carcass just off the side of the road when driving in a car, or the sound of a cow giving birth, or the taste of big, fat beetles getting crammed down your throat.  But really, the smells, sounds, and even tastes of the environments are all so distinctive and varying.  It is an aspect of the ride that I hadn’t thought of at all.  The experience of traveling through Yellowstone at no more than 15 mph, while the slowest car gets maybe down to 35mph, allows you to experience the park in such a different way.  We watched a Bison swim across a river, saw some Eagletts, watched the Elk graze, and cruised by some Geysers.  We even got the all exciting Bison herd on the road, and had to use a 15 passenger van as a barricade.  Those things are big.  And fast.  But not as smart as the Lightning.  We got away unscathed!  A great day it was.  

We managed a campsite in the picnic area at Old Faithful. After a phone call in search of a reservation further south, we learned that we had been misinformed at the gate and the next closest campground was some 40 miles away. It was 5 o’clock. With a little needling and some persistence the good folks of Yellowstone National said we could find a spot behind the parking lots so long as we were careful of grizzly bears. Our little misunderstanding did, however, allow us to see the old girl spew 6 times.  Nothin’ like sipping a nice cup of coffee at 8am while watching a national icon do its thing.  We rode out of the park the following day, and down into Grand Teton Nation Park.  Also quite spectacular as the we flew around  the final a bend of the pass and the woods opened up to Jackson Lake with the Tetons rising above.  Beautiful.  That night was spent in Colter Bay, graced by the presence of the lovely Ms. Meredith Hanrahan, who made the trip from Salt Lake to see what this Ride the Lightning tour was all about.  She made us delicious bagel sandwiches and topped it off with double stuffed Oreos for dessert.  Wowzer.  The following morning (Sunday) was planned to be Togwotee Pass - our tallest pass of the ride.  With little arguing or discussion, we decided instead to head the 34 miles south and stop by Jackson to see some old friends.  We arrived in Jackson, spent more time in some Bike shops, weathered a rain storm while I finally got my rear brake back in order (some 700 miles and 10 hours of bike shops after  initial failure - Aidan cringes when I even mention bike shops now!)…..

NEW FORMAT! Thumbnails enlarge. Next time we should be able to have them even bigger. We’re pretty excited on our discovery, hope you are too. 

I Just Can’t Quit You, Ennis, MT

We made it. Up and over the Virginia City hill and ten miles downhill to sunny Ennis Montana. A nap in the city park and we’re back on the internets. If the posts feel rushed or are a little rough around the formatting edges, it’s a result of the web war we’ve been waging with countless librarians. Turns out that most libraries will let you online for only an hour or so before the computer queue fills up with locals hankering after their Match.com accounts and the latest posts on Gunbroker.com. (Yeah yeah, so I snoop a little once we’ve gotten the boot.)

Sam’s spat was a prickly one yesterday afternoon as he tried to wrap up the post below. After two flat tires on the ride to Twin Bridges last night, we found a tiny staple lodged in the tire. We’re blaming the likely librarian culprits armed with their weapons at hand.

Anyway, that all is to say that the blog posts are a burden of love and we’re trying to get as many of them going as we possibly can with life on the road. Hope you enjoy them. It’s been a blast getting to share this little journey with everyone.

Today we’ll meet up with the last Lightninger, Sir BJ Kinsey, and become a group of three again (Clay, heal those knees and we’ll be four in Chicago in no time.) Getchen and John will also be joining us for a night’s camp down by the river. There’s rumors of Elk-orizo (sausages) or some other taste of Montana’s fare. Last time it was Deer-itos. Deer-icious (sorry).

We’d like to also take the time here to start our ever growing thank you list. These are the big ones - the reason we are where we are. You’ve all helped us somewhere along the way, in thoughts, jackets, flashing lights, or just as motivators to get to that next library to wage another battle and get a post up - for you. It’s all for you, our trusty and loyal fans.

Zach - Our Portland saviour, providing us with an invaluable resource as the clock nearly struck zero. Zach was a prior Trans-Amer whom we met one day at a bicycle shop in Portland. He quickly recognized Aidan from his glory years at High Cascade, and got to talkin. On Thursday evening, at about 6pm, we met up with Zach at his house for some last minute advice and to “glance” at his maps. Those maps happened to be the ACA Trans-America Route Maps, complete with town to town mileages, directions, and services provided. We’d be a hopeless cause- probably somewhere still on the Oregon coast, miles apart and still fighting. So thanks Zach, for the headache relief and invaluable resource.

Bryan - Another Portland hero, for Aidan. After a manly morning in the Safeway parking lot, we successfully managed to replace the power steering belt in Aidan’s car. It was a junkshow, but we got that old girl rollin’ again. A quick packing job with the remaining contents of life, and the car was ready, apartment vacated. The daunting 40+ mile trip from Bryan and Sally’s house left Aidan a bit a bay. That is until Brian called, said he was in Portland, and could drive the car to his house. Amazing! Problem solved. Just remember, grind em til you find em. Thanks Bryan.

Meredith - Salt Lake City, ex-Colorado, friend/roommate alike. A few days after getting to Portland, I realized quickly that I needed to swap out shifters (swap flight decks for bar ends) for their ease of use, maintenance, and adjustability. It also soon became apparent that Aidan had no digital camera charger. So by the grace of a corporate FedEx account, the shifters and camera were overnighted and instantly put to use. So thanks to Meredith for this entire blog - it’d be nothing but a crappy try at witty jokes and anecdotes from the road. And who likes reading anyway? Picture are so much prettier.

Whitney - A package came one day. Well, packages had been coming nearly every day since my arrival to Portland. More stuff. We needed more stuff, at the last minute. It was all coming. Then finally, a package for Aidan Payson (without the second line reading Attn: Sam Woolf). He was excited. Not me. Opened it, found, among other items from REI a flashing tail light and ankle reflector straps. I made fun of him. That stuff was for the birds - those dorky commuters used that. We wouldn’t need it. We a) wouldn’t be riding at night, and b) those ankle straps need no excuse why not to wear them. Welp, wrong I was. Our first (and only) shakedown ride in Portland left us in still 10 miles out in the pitch black. Aidan turned on his light. I was jealous. Went out and bought one the next day. And we’ve used our lights countless times in the pouring rain, hail, cloudy, and dark days on windy roads. They are a signal of “I’m scared of you, give me a break”. So thanks Whitney, for being such a motherly safety freak, concerned about your precious…

(my time is a runnin out. Aidan’s is already burned. These are going to have to get shorter - not in any way a significance of importance. Sorry for this. Library battle yet again. 17 minutes and counting….)

Meg & Phil - It’s been a cold, wet, windy one. Tremendous thanks from Aidan for the fleece and vest. And from me, yet another inspiration for me to go out and get a fleece jacket before departure. We’ve lived in the fleeces. And they’re almost the same color so we look like twins…great….

Art & Celeste - We’ve been eating cheap, sugary, food for weeks. Not since leaving Jackson, MT, where we excitedly awaited the opening of the Post Office to get the greatest care package yet! After unloading and shipping a bunch of winter gear home, we were excited at how much room we had - not for long, as we soon needed to find homes for the 15lbs of Cliff Bars, 7 layer Bars, Beef Jerky, Fruit and Nut mix, and other goodies. We’re happy and full. Thanks.

Will Freihoffer - Our Missoulian host, and recent grad (congrats). The hospitality was tremendous - totally unnecessary. We showered, ate, did laundry, and got a biut tipsy (maybe not so much of a thanks for that one). But celebrate we did, and enjoy it we did even more. Thanks to you and the roommates. It was our best day off yet!

Eatin’ em up in Montana

Just before our century ride into Idaho, we had some free time to browse our maps and check out our ride from Missoula to Ennis.  It was a serious moment of truth, to say the least.  Missoula had been the thought-of end point for the two of us and our little push to meet up with the others.  We figured Missoula = Montana, Ennis = Montana, therefore Missoula and Ennis had to be close.  Wrong.  It was to be a 280 mile push in under 4 days.  So thats what our battle has been, and so far, so good.  We’ve been hammering thru some headwinds, climbing mountain passes (the tallest that we’ve yet faced), and trying to figure out the newest of our elemental friends - the unshaded sun.  The Italian in me (thanks, Ma), has left me fairing better than the Aidan “the pastiest and the tastiest” Payson, who is on his way to looking like neopolatin ice-cream (he just needs some tan in there somewhere - the other two flavors are covered).

Many thanks to Will, for showing us the ropes in Missoula.  This here is a Rodeo - freestlye Kayak contest on the wave in Missoula.   It was full summer mode, everyone was out.   

After a slightly (or maybe more than slightly) unrestful Saturday night in Missoula (gotta celebrate with the Grads - it’d be rude not to),  

we managed to drag ourselves out of the woodshed, do some tiddying up for the boys, and head out of town.  On the road by 10:30 was quite the feat and we were impressed by ourselves.

But not before first stopping by our new found gem, the Dollar Tree. And with no sales tax, that means $20 for 20 delicious trinkets.  Wonderful.

Onward we rode, feeling abnormally good for being hungover, dehydrated, and exhausted with an 85 degree sun cooking us all day.  We battled a vicious headwind at the end of the day, and grumpiness set in (it didn’t help that we were constantly getting honked at, flipped off, and yelled at by monster trucks, motorcycles, and mini-vans alike).  Camped for the evening just outside of Darby, MT- perhaps the most unfriendly town we’ve been through.  Aidan got a “donchu look at me like that boy” while riding through the grocery store parking lot, couppled with some serious mean mugs.  We were a bit on edge - tired, cooked from the heat, and not sure if we were going to get hate crimed that night.  We didn’t.  All still aboard.  Our campsite sat along the river, and we watched it rise as we cooked dinner.  Trees - still green and standing straight up - came rushing by.  We debated moving, wondered if we’d get flooded, but in the end, we stayed just where we were.

Here’s a photo of the aforementioned description I gave of Aidan…

Scenery….

Wildlife….

The following day was up and over Chief Joseph Pass (also happens to be the Continental Divide, elev. 7241ft ), with an even more frustrating head wind.  It was nearly blowing us backward down the pass. 

We battled (successfully - though I’m not terribly sure what would have happened if we would have lost).  It was exhausting and sunny, so I had to make my own shade. 

As we came down out of the mountains, rounded a turn, we were spit out into a huge valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains.  It was typical Big Sky Country.  Aidan celebrates with a FigureHead Pose (a bit dicey with winds and a fully loaded bike).

We rode through cattle country the rest of the way to Jackson, MT for the night.  It is strangely awkward how intently the cattle watch as you pass - almost intimidating. 

We soaked in the Jackson Hot Springs (108 degree slime coated swimming pool), which didn’t feel that good with the outside temp still around 80. 

We got a late start this morning as we were waiting around for the Post Office to open to ship our first batch of stuff home - down jackets, socks, face masks, extra pedals, journals, and books!  And, we anxiously awaited to pick up out first General Delivery care package from the loving folks in Westford, VT (hi Mom! [and Pops too!] Thanks!).  No matter where we seem to be, without fail, the locals insist on telling us how abnormally wet or cold this spring has been (they then make fun of us for biking through it).  This is an arid valley. Clearly.

To begin each day, we go for a 10 or so mile warm up ride, greasing the joints and getting the cold morning creaks out.  We stop, stretch, eat, and do push-ups to get the blood flowing.  Its cross training, really.

We’re now sitting in Dillon, MT, after getting blown here by a sustained 30 mph tail wind.  Made good time, to say the least.  Had to do a little bit of Sailboat tacking to get the sidewind to push forward.  But hey, everyone’s got a little Capt’n in em…

Off tonight to Twin Bridges, then a mellow 45 miles or so to meet up with BJ in Ennis.  Then off thru Yellowstone.  Exciting stuff to come….

Days in Idaho and the push to Missoula

Idaho ended up being a land of extremes for us and our little journey. The ups and downs of the hills, of which there are plenty, were the biggest we’ve faced yet. The temperature and weather fluctuated more quickly and more drastically than we’ve seen and the people we met were both weird in an incredible way and weird in the way that you really hope they don’t know where your sleeping. I’m sure that Idaho has its perks and its seasons, but early May on narrow road shoulders turned out to be a poor way to fall in love with the state. 

One of the best parts of the Trans Am trail in Idaho is that it is constantly following rivers. We tracked the Snake, the Little Salmon, the Salmon and eventually the Lochsa before climbing the hill to Montana. The rivers help control the grade of the road and provide for some incredible camp spots, but they also come with tight winding roads and strong winds that whip through canyons. 

Following our stay under the power lines at the foot of the Brownlee River Dam, we traversed to New Meadows, Idaho and followed the Little Salmon down rte. 95 towards Grangeville.

We got some interesting weather after our sunny lunch in New Meadows. Yes, those are snow flakes (May 13). 

Snow in the valley. Two particular local characters told us on separate occasions that “If you don’t like the weather in Idaho, wait 15 minutes.” We then proceeded to follow their advice four times that same afternoon waiting out weather. I’ve now waited a couple days to say this, I don’t like the weather in Idaho. 

Little valley spot outside Riggins. We met Don, who worked for the state doing road work, and the couple that owned the place, who thought Don’s employer was a joke and couldn’t handle any task payed for by their tax dollars. This was prime time character watching and we probably polished three cups of bad coffee each waiting out the weather and listening to the good folks rant. Our bill came to 74 cents, no lie. I tipped well over 100 percent. (the owner below keeping an eye) 

After waiting out  a wind storm in Riggins’ city park. Finding water is actually harder than we thought it would be. Lots of sulphur and other contaminants to be had. We like to pretend that if its coming out of a water fountain it’s all gravy. This particular fountain had some gusto. 

Didn’t sleep here. But we should have. 

There is a fair amount of public land along the Salmon river. It’s a prime spot for kayakers and weirdos fishing out the back of their RVs when the weather is warmer. We found a pretty amazing spot on the water and after a good session chucking rocks into the river we settled in for some journaling and soul searching. I took this picture with a tripod and had to run up and sit down to look so natural. Survivorman style. No big deal. 

I mentioned Idaho was a land of highs and lows. Here’s one of the better literal interpretations. White Bird at the bottom, and the summit above (center) at the end of 17 switchbacks and 3400 ft of climb.

Before:

After:Getting ready at 6 in the morning, on a sub freezing morning, in a mummy sleeping bag, leads to some problems. Today I my managed to put my shorts on inside out. It took me 12 miles to realize what the issue was. If you’re wondering what makes some days rough…there’s the rub. (You happy Sam, it’s on the blog.)

Up Whitebird hill on the Old 95 rte. They’ve since re-routed the main road as a straight cut along the mountains. Four miles and hour up long switchbacks with no traffic means it’s time to kickback. Suns out guns out. 

More camp spots by the river. This one is in Harpster, ID by the South Fork Clearwater River. 

Rain, narrow shoulders and a cold river. There are bike friendly drivers and then there are the others. The bright colors help but flashing tail lights let the world know we’re scared of Semis and RVs. Thanks to Whitney for getting me visible and for making Sam want one too.

 Gettin’ out there. Lowell is the last town before the 70 miles over Lolo Pass to Montana. We did our best to boost the population during lunch hour.

The local convenience store in Lowell does double duty as a grocery store and the headquarters of Cougar Canyon “Creative Taxidermy”––seriously. The woman behind the counter was initially really nice and seemed totally sane. At least, until she tried to legitimately sell us on a 14-hour energy drink (a real booster from that wussy 5 hour nonsense) and then expounded on the benefits of carrying handguns. We left wondering what exactly “creative taxidermy” was and what a person acted like while spun on a 14-hour energy bender.  Maybe Lowell’s 24th learned the hard way and is stuffed and life-like in the back of the shop.

Idaho traffic jam. Lots of construction on this road. Good for staggering traffic and future cyclists (they’re making a shoulder!)

 Siracha lightning. Stupid photo, really. Double meaning for sure.   

Almost to Montana. A river runs through it. The Lochsa is a truly impressive river. 

Halfway to our first century ride. Top of Lolo Pass at the boundary of Idaho and Montana. Little bit of snow, too. 

Found our way to Missoula. It’s graduation time in these parts. Sam’s old Holderness pal Will is putting us up in his wood shed. Missoula is awesome. These kids like their toys.

We’re taking a day in the sunshine and enjoying some incredible hospitality and graduation feast fall out. Life is good. All is well. Keep posted for the next stretch to Ennis and meeting up with more lightningers.

PART 2

Bike is in pieces and finally on its way to Bozeman, MT. Hopefully my recent practice as a bicycle mechanic will be enough to piece it back together…

BUZZ CUT = SPEED.

Packed and primed.  Lookout because the lightning is about to strike in full force!

Dinner Ideas (for two): (now with photos)

There’s really nothing quite like a good, light,  summer dinner after a long day out in the sun.  Well, fortunately for us, we’ve had the sun (but not all of it as we battled thru an Idaho hail storm yesterday) and are starting to find the warmer weather (we pedalled up White Bird Hill - about 3200 ft gain -shirtless and gloveless today!).  So we figured we’d share a couple of meal ideas for your dining pleasure.

*note: Please remember that these meals are the perfect amount to feed 2 people.  Adjust your proportions accordingly.

A fine picture of what a typical day in the Idaho sun turns into. 

Option 1: Johnny’s Old Courthouse Delight

This meal is best enjoyed in the Old Couthouse Lawn in Council, Idaho.  You may find it easier to prepare when running water is present. 

Old Courthouse in Council, Idaho. Not too bad for a bit of free camping. 

Ingredients:

2 boxes  Mac n’ Cheese dinner (the cheapest you can find)

1 lb bag frozen peas

1 lb ground beef

1/2 block Western Family Medium Cheddar Cheese, cubed (rubbery and sweaty from excessive heat works best)

1 stick Imperial butter (it’ll keep for weeks, weather undependent)

Johnny’s seasoning salt (to taste)

Siracha sauce - even if it already tastes good, add this until it gains a pinkish hue

Directions - Cook ground beef, adding enough Johnny’s seasoning salt to wake you up with an unquenchable thirst in the middle of the night.  Cook mac noodles, add frozen peas, drain.  Combine noodles, peas, beef and cheese in 1 small pot (make sure it’s too small to hold it all), add cheesy sauce powder, butter, and attempt to mix it together.  Then wonder what to do with the noddles that didnt fit, begin eating anyway, and add the left over ingredients once there’s room again in the pot.

It looks a little daunting at first but with some hard work and a little expansion you can get through it all.

Option 2:  Fully Loaded Riverboat Captain

This meal  best enjoyed when camping not more than 40 feet off the highway, next to the raging Salmon River somewhere between Riggins and Lucille, ID, while preparing for the “record low temperatures” to set in for the night.

Ingredients:

1 lb bacon

1 bag frozen Broccoli

2 cups Instant Potatoes (makes 8 servings according to the box)

1 stick Imperial Butter

Salt and Pepper to taste

Directions:

Begin by recalling an old Idaho Highway Department truck driver telling you that records lows were coming in tonight, then recall the 15+ miles of riding thru stinging hail pellets, then look up at the sky, smell the wind, and have Deja Vu.  In a frantic scramble, clear out 1/2 of your tent, set up the stove on a Crazy Creek camp chair in the cleared out tent space, ensure that all of the vesitbules are shut (so that you dont get wet from the rain that has started to fall), then begin cooking the bacon (all the while knowing that you’ll be sleeping in this tent in Yellowstone in a few days).  Remove bacon from heat, spread out on the cardboard from the box of instant potatoes (for crispiness), boil water, cook broccoli, add salt and butter, then add potato flakes.  And keep adding potato flakes because it looks too soupy.  Then add more water because the mixture thickens quickly when removed from heat.  Fold in the bacon bits, ensuring that you’ll have at least one piece of bacon in every bite. Take a first bite, marvel in it’s deliciousness, then add  Siracha sauce - even if it already tastes good, add this until it gains a pinkish hue (notice the pattern).

New and Improved with PHOTOS:

Cookin’ out of the rain. Sam exaggerates the tent’s closed status. Vestibules were open, wind was whipping through and we were careful of the ol’ carb mono hotbox.

Bacon makes everything better. Everything. 

And feast happily in the partially frozen drizzle. 

Don’t forget desert (Note: Colors not alternated in any way). Mmmm, pink flavor. These came recommended by a nice fellow we met in Dayville, OR. He had done a similar trip 25 years earlier and was eager to soak up some of our experience. He gave us some good advice and dug two Descuttes brews out of his trunk and gave them to us. They were amazing and we thank him here.   

Happy cookings from the Lightningers in Grangeville, ID.

(and sorry for the lack of photos - the Grangeville Library’s 36 minute internet time limit has expired)

The Journey Unexpected

Going into this trip I really had no idea what to expect… I don’t think any of us did. As my knees gave out on just day 6, it put me in a really awkward position. Since we elected to do the trip with no follow car, a tight schedule, and no backup plan, I was left with very few options. After departing with Sam and Aidan, and wallowing in self pity for some time, I eventually made my way back down the 7 mile stint from the Ochoco Resevoir to Prineville.

Once in Prineville I stopped to get some breakfast in order to comfort my pain, and comfort it did. If you ever find yourself in Prineville, OR, and I hope to god you don’t, but if you do stop by the sandwich shop located right across from the courthouse. Best breakfast burritos in the universe.

After devouring my burrito I made my way down to the library, where I was consistently hassled for being in the ”reserved study room,” which had no reservations all day. It was there that I learned a very valuable lesson: Have a credit card. I called around for 2 hours trying to get a rental car company to rent to me with just a debit card… no dice. Well one actually would, but it was $450 a day. With no rental car options, no bus route through Prineville, and definitely no cabs, I was stuck.

I walked over to Dairy Queen and sat in the parking lot, contemplating life for several hours. I had always thought that being a bum would be a tranquil, fairly care free lifestyle … turns out that’s not the case if you’re trying to get somewhere. After several more hours of soul searching my knight in shining armor appeared from the heavens, or as it turns out in this case from the Dairy Queen drive-through, captaining his burly black on black chevy truck. That knight was none other than heavy shredder, master carpenter, interview slayer, and Call of Duty extraordinaire Curtis Ciszek.  

Now a little bit older, and every bit as steezy as when this photo was taken, Curtis lives in Bend, OR, about 30 miles from Prineville.  After getting Aidan’s SOS message from the day before, he came down to help out.  Curtis drove me back to Bend, and introduced me to his Man Camp comprised of 4 pro snowboarders, 2 snowmobiles, a dirt bike, 10 surfboards, countless snowboards, 10 bikes, and a truly phenomenal amount of empty beer cans.  Turns out that Curtis’ good friend and home owner Austin Smith was away swooning ladies in some tropical locale, so I got to sleep on his couch for the evening.  I never got a chance to thank him, so Austin if you see this thank you.  Your couch was comfy, your shower could use a little Draino, and your projector setup looked phenomenal, though I was too intimidated to try and turn it on. 

The following morning Curtis and his lady friend drove me to the Sugarloaf Mountain Motel where I met up with this little slice of Americana:

Granted the view from the Sugarloaf Mountain Motel wasn’t nearly this majestic, as I recall there were just some fast food restaurants instead of Mt. Hood.  Either way, the bus was the same.  The Breeze as she is referred to around these parts, was comprised of me, four ladies 70+ who upon meeting began talking about how many family members they have outlived, a grumpy guy, a crazy cat lady, and a just plain crazy lady who sat directly behind me.  She was consistently talking nearly the entire 5 hour trip, to whom I’m still not sure.

The man at the helm of the land ship look striking similar to this guy:

Minus the guns of course which were not permitted.  He had a love for Oregon, and a disdain for police officers and authority in general.  He drove us from Bend all the way up to Portland, the city where it all began only a week earlier.  

It was in Portland that I was picked up by Tyler Davis, one of the greatest human beings on earth, who also just so happened to be the person who dropped us off in Lincoln City to start the ride.  So now I rest at his house in the lovely SE neighborhood of Sellwood, with his two roommates Ladd, and Christopher.  Together we talk about bikes, play Call of Duty, and watch a messed up television that likes to display green instead of the intended color.  I’ll be here stretching and icing until Monday of next week at which point I will be boarding another bus headed for Bozeman, MT.  It will be my first Greyhound experience, and I am anxiously anticipating meeting more crazy people.  Soon the Lightningers shall be reunited, and it will feel so good.

Big Thanks

To Stanley Kinsey for donating to us through KIVA.  Join us in raising money for entrepreneurs in need here!

Oregon down, Idahills cometh

Here we hail from the ol’ Community Library in Cambridge, ID pop. 360. They’ve got a card reader right on the front of this here COMPAQ computer so we’ll be able to update photos as well. Who knew you do stuff with photos on a PC?!

So we’re a couple of days behind on the posting and we do apologize. We’ve been rolling the hills of eastern Oregon hitting up the happening towns of Dayville, John Day, Austin Junction and Oxbow, combined populations of about 500 folks. Excluding Austin Junction we’re pretty sure it’d be 498.

Our thoughts and knees are with Clay and we’re updating via him whenever cellphone coverage permits. Unfortunately Clay’s the man with all the gismos so we’re doing it the early 2000s way with cellphones and dial-up.  Argh.

Clay also managed to take a lot of the rain and clouds with him and we’ve been lucky enough to get some days of sunshine since his departure. Amazing how much easier this whole touring thing is with a warm sun on your back (or maybe just not a sopping wet tent in the mornings).

This is where we split with Clay. Ochoco State Park, not a bad spot to spend two nights.

Sam and I hit the open road with a hefty tail wind. Made eighty miles to Dayville the first day. We stopped outside of a ranch entrance on 26 headed to Mitchell and had a candy bar break. We have a lot of candy bar breaks.

 Sam fixes his bike…often.

Shoe tree. Nuff said.

Lunch in John Day. Sam’s having a knee issue as well and while he shopped for a knee brace in the drug store I ate a sleeve of fig newtons. Life is good.

Scenery. Nuff said.

More of it. Big country.

Halfway up Dixie Pass we stopped for more candy bars and snapped this little gem. For those of you in the know…The axle snapped, Billy got snake bite, and they decided to hunt.

We camped in Austin Junction on Friday night. There is one store in Austin Junction and the woman who owns the store rents out a prickly spot in her backyard for bikers. She wasn’t pleased we didn’t come in for breakfast or dinner. In fact, she just down right wasn’t pleased. When Sam asked her how she liked it living there, she said she was “ready for a change.” We’re thankful for the spot though and we wish you the best…grumpy pants.

This one’s for Mom. I’m trying. I really am, but today I missed a spot.

Left Austin Junction for Baker City on Saturday morning. Baker City is a town of about 9,500 so we were headed for the big city. Signs gave us plenty of warning.

Tough economic times for the town of Whitney. Ghost town, abandoned 1947.

There’s a great story to this spot, maybe too long for right here in the blog. Basically Sam charmed our waitresses at the Chinese restaurant so much that they let us sleep on the lawn. Baker City stealth camp (

We’re calling the up-hills bad slanties out of disrespect. Near the top, hence the slow kid looks we got going.

Good slanty. 1/mood=slope

Lunch in Richland. This is the sleepiest town either Sam or I had ever been to. Nearly every one of these little Oregon towns has a nice grassy park where we sprawl out for lunch. Sometimes we get to nap. Today we called home for Mother’s day. Hi Mom!

…and watched the laundry dry.

“Where’s Idaho? I dunno.”

Yesterday morning heading towards Idaho. Lots of downhills on this day, really getting just as far down as possible before hitting those mountains.

Spent last night by the Brownlee Resevoir which is a backed up version of the Snake River. The land, road and campsites are all owned by Idaho Power. It was beautiful riding in, but the folks were all a bit strange. We’re thinking it might be all that living under power lines.  

This morning’s highlight was running over the thousands of cycadas swarming across the road. It was genocide.

Sidenote: Congratulations recent Boulder alums and fellow celebrators. We know that you were likely the only ones feeling worse than we were this past week.  

Till the next time we spend 2 hours in a library internetting our eyeballs out. Keep checking in. Clay we miss you. Bozeman here we come.

And Then There Were Two

Unfortunately today the road has claimed its first victim.  After battling through some heavy tendonitis in my knees for the last 3 days, I’ve decided it’s best for me to temporarily pull off the trip.  It’s been extremely frustrating and disappointing, especially since I’ve never suffered from any knee problems while cycling for the last 3 years, or in my entire life for that matter.  Mentally I want nothing more than to complete the entire ride, but physically my body will just not let me do it.  

My plan of action is to rent a car or catch a bus up to Bozeman, MT, let my knees recover, make some bike adjustments, and try again.  I’m determined to try and make it happen.  I’ll be in Bozeman until around the 19th, when BJ and Adam fly in, and then together we will head south to Ennis, MT, to meet Sam and Aidan who left from Prineville this morning headed east for Idaho.

With my absence and the grueling schedule that Sam and Aidan have in front of them it’s going to be much harder to get media hosted, but we’re going to do our best to keep everyone up to date.

Thank you all for your continued support.

-Clay Mason

Big Thanks

To Jeanette Monnig, Renee’ Benage, and Molly Schneider for supporting us through donations to KIVA!

You can join our KIVA lending team here, giving entrepreneurs in third world countries the opportunity to better their lives.

Soggy Bottom Boys.

Days 2, 3, and 4 have been wet ones.  On saturday the 2nd we rode from Rickreal ending 63 miles later in Coburg, OR.  Pretty cool scenery as we headed south through the valley.  Lush vegetation, orchards, and some of the best looking lawns we have ever seen were part of the general scenery.  The day went pretty smoothly, other than the rain, until the last 10 miles when we encountered a 20-25 mph headwind.  As a tractor rolled by at a good 13mph, Sam ducked in behind it and we got a good draft for a mile or so.  Here’s a pic from earlier in the day.

Later we ended up at the house of Jehovah seeking shelter from the storm. Hova Hova.

Here’s sam showing his team spirit.  Rain can’t hold him down.

Day 3 we rode from Coburg, entering the Cascade Mountain range, and ending up  57 miles later the base of the McKenzie Pass at a little town called McKenzie Bridge.  Similar scenery as we rode through an area that is technically a tropical rain forest due to the amount rain they receive.  As we made our way to the base it started to get a little desolate.

We camped right next  to the Willamette river at a pretty nice National Forest camp ground.  Unforunately, still raining.

Excitement.

Today, Day 4 saw the biggest challenge yet.  With McKenzie Pass closed due to snow until July, we were forced to take the alternate route through Santiam Pass.  It ended up being a roughly 4,000 foot climb over 25 miles, and boy was it something.  The day started off at about 45 degrees and misting, with decent traffic.  Here’s a shot from fairly early on.

As we continued climbing temperatures began to fall, getting down to about 35 degrees with a heavy sleet to go with it.  By the time we reached the top some 3.5 hours later, none of us could feel our hands or feet, and were completely drenched to the bone.  Aidan spotted a snow shed off to the side of the road, so we ducked in it and had to change clothes, as well as perform some amazing impromptu aerobics in order to get back in the game.  

Following the Jane Fonda session we headed down the other side on what had to have been one of the sketchiest experiences of our lives.  It was a 30 mph decent with no visibility and brakes that were hardly working, coupled with a heavy flow of semi truck blow bys.

So now we sit in a hotel room in Sisters, OR, hanging clothing off of everything imaginable.

As we go to sleep we long for sunny skies, and dry pavement.  Maybe then we can actually get some more photos and video.

Sunny Beach Days

So it begins…

Getting out the door and to the beach was probably the biggest challenge we faced all of prep week. How were we going to get there? Where we were going to get?

If it appears that we, over here at the Lightning HQ, have any idea what’s going to happen day to day then you, my friend, are gravely mistaken. This is a seat-of-our-pants operation through and through. It was late Thursday evening that we determined we would drive to Lincoln City rather than try and force a 3 and a half hour ride to Florence out of a friend. Our dear friend Tyler––a key figure in these proceedings and host of the late Thursday BBQ––offered to drive us to Lincoln City the following morning and send us off proper. He is a fine gentleman and we owe him big time.

So we made it to the beach as planned, despite it being a different one, dipped our back tires and started pedaling East.

Friday was beautiful. This is right before we picked up our bikes and realized they were almost too heavy to carry. Sam and our self-less driving benefactor Tyler survey the scene. Killer ankle-height surf too.  

Sam is all optimism.

So is Clay, although we had a heck of a time pushing fully loaded bikes around in the sand. Next time we’ll know. 

Photo Post: Tyler Davis, from the day of departure at the beach.  I had to share the photo of Aidan carrying his bike though the sand, I laughed don’t’ worry.  Lots of gear made for heavy bikes.  The boys started talking about how they may be heavy but they will be prepared, it was the kind of anxious talk someone who sees uphill pain in the distance makes.  By now you’ve got a few day of hard mile under your belt.  I hope all is well, good luck guys.

         Tyler’s pics 5/4/09

Our first day was a bit of a long haul as we figured out what worked and what didn’t biking as a group. We camped at a fairground in Rickreal, Oregon pop. 147. It’s not quite fair season so we had the place to ourselves. That is until 6:45 the next morning when the trucks started lining up for Saturday mornin’ sheep shearin’. (Atleast that’s what we guessed was happening by the noises)

Camp.

Camp dining room.

Early estimates put calorie consumption at about 400 an hour in order to stay even. Here we play a little catch up with our new found cooking necessity, butter. Butttter. 

All for now. Check in for day two when the rain hits.

The Chaos Before the Storm

Today was a day of ups and downs for all of the Lightningers. I don’t think any of us fully realized how much thought, preparation, and organization has to go into a trip of this magnitude. The last several days have been consumed with non-stop errands in hopes of getting all of the things we need to get done in our personal lives, as well as gathering the rest of the things we still need for the trip.

This afternoon Aidan watched as his car drove away stuffed full of all his possessions, bound for storage.

I found him upon his pillowtop.

Sam worked tirelessly on switching over componentry on his bike in the living room without a bike stand, turning what would take a little over a half hour at a bike shop, into a full afternoon affair.

I finally got my bike completely put back together following the most intense packing job I have ever performed in order to fly it Southwest, and will finally get to ride it for the first time in over a week tomorrow.

All of us are at this point are tired of packing and buying more gear, and really getting anxious to get the show on the road. We alleviate the stress by playing pretend.

Me and Aidan lay in our tent.

While Sam lays in his.

The living room is looking solid.

Unfortunately we still have some work to do. With one day to go we still are unsure of what route we are taking (the planned route has a pass closed), our ride to the coast fell through, and we collectively have little to no idea of what we’re doing or what to expect. But I guess that’s what adventures are all about.

Atleast I have a vacuum bag convert.

Shamwow!

Team Assembled For The First Leg

The last couple of days have been full of constant errands trying to find gear solutions to the problems that we foresee…like snow. Apparently May 1st in Oregon doesn’t mean much in the way of spring and sunshine.

A few drenching days of sobering rain does leave plenty of time to pack and worry about gear.

Clay is the most organized

See! That’s labeled “Beanie” in case you can’t quite read it. One hat, one vacuum-packed labeled bag.

Working hard.

Momma Mason the nutritionist recommends this snack.

 

 

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