Monday, October 30, 2006
Abbreviated
Sorry for this, but there's been a change. My mother and I are driving toward NJ this morning. I'm changing the date of the Freehold/Manasquan ride with friends. Saturday, Nov. 4th.
I hope this doesn't conflict with other plans folks may have made.
A few thoughts:
The whole point of this trip was to ride a bicycle from coast to coast. I'm going to be in a car because of this injury, so there isn't much point in dragging out my journey to NJ. I'll ride my bike to the coast, but the in-between is moot.
I also miss Tracey incredibly. If I were to stay in NJ for another week we would fly past each other in the air, literally. She'll be out of town for an architecture conference and I want to see her before she heads out for that. Waiting until she gets back would put me home in mid-November.
And, I need to get life back. This fundraiser has siphoned me away from life for two months. I need to get back to work before I forget how to do my job.
I'm also beginning to think about the aftermath. I am making myself available to speak to schools, churches, Boy Scout troops, clubs, etc. There's a lot of work to be done to put this whole experience in context and construct a presentation. If you or someone you know would be interested, send me a comment with your email address.
So check back later this week for directions to my house and the beach. Details on where/when.
Thanks for everyone's support. See you soon, either in person or in my heart!
-Andrew
I hope this doesn't conflict with other plans folks may have made.
A few thoughts:
The whole point of this trip was to ride a bicycle from coast to coast. I'm going to be in a car because of this injury, so there isn't much point in dragging out my journey to NJ. I'll ride my bike to the coast, but the in-between is moot.
I also miss Tracey incredibly. If I were to stay in NJ for another week we would fly past each other in the air, literally. She'll be out of town for an architecture conference and I want to see her before she heads out for that. Waiting until she gets back would put me home in mid-November.
And, I need to get life back. This fundraiser has siphoned me away from life for two months. I need to get back to work before I forget how to do my job.
I'm also beginning to think about the aftermath. I am making myself available to speak to schools, churches, Boy Scout troops, clubs, etc. There's a lot of work to be done to put this whole experience in context and construct a presentation. If you or someone you know would be interested, send me a comment with your email address.
So check back later this week for directions to my house and the beach. Details on where/when.
Thanks for everyone's support. See you soon, either in person or in my heart!
-Andrew
# posted by Andrew Bascue @ 6:10 AM
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Please Read This
A person I don't know, or have ever heard of, wrote the following to me in a comment on my last entry. I have since decided to moderate comments so that they all need to come through me before being posted. I chose to put them here so that I could mention a few things with regard to them. Please note that they are mean spirited and maybe a bit startling to some people. I hope you understand why I'm doing this.
I'm glad this was written; someone had to point out some of these things. It's unfortunate there isn't more tact in the world, but then this is the internet and these comments were sent via a faceless, sterile computer not much different than the one you're reading this with. You don't even have to know how to spell to use it.
Some of the facts mentioned might be valid, but my blog isn't a discussion about cancer itself. That said, it does give me a good opportunity to touch on some things.
I gave a ton of thought to the fact that cancer can't be cured by any individual effort. I thought about the fact that the American Cancer Society is a HUGE nonprofit with millions of dollars in their budget; did I want to support that? I researched the Society, even attended a conference they held with some of their researchers working on DNA. Few nonprofits are able to get 100% of their donations to their cause, but the ACS is as good a place to put your filantrophy as any. And they have a great name and network to back them. They have a website I could use to orchestrate my fundriasing while I'm on the road.
My biggest disquietude while planning this fundraiser was the fact that there will be few true 'cures' for cancer. I worked for the Environmental Protection Agency for almost three years. My main assignment was reducing emissions from diesel engines. Diesel emissions have been found to carcinogenic. Does anyone in the world fool themselves to think that we'll see diesel engines go away in our lifetime? Does anyone in the world fool themselves to think that preservatives in food will go away? That we'll stop using fertilizer and pesticide on our crops? Dyes in our clothes? Of course not. These things will be around messing with our physiology for centuries, maybe causing cancer or other serious diseases. But we enjoy them - they make our lives run, they are the backbone of our modern society.
The rantings of the person who wrote that comment are those of a person who is out of touch with the reality of the world in which in we need to feed over 6 million people. I don't like eating preservatives. I don't like excessive packaging. I don't even like fluorescent lights. But I have to eat, I have to be a productive member of my society - in whatever capacity I define that.
It has occurred to me that I could choose to find a place in the world where the air quality is pristine and the growing season is 10 months long. I could establish a farm, buy some organic cows and chickens, organic seeds and live there. Total isolation from the world going on around me, bliss. I could choose to let the world have its pollution, it's packaging and fluorescent lights. My little clean, disease and cancer free world to myself.
Then one day I'd get cancer. What would I do? Sit and let the disease take me over and kill me slowly? I would be somewhere dying wondering if I should have done a fundraiser when I was younger.
Or maybe some day I'd have kids, because I'm destined to be a dad someday.
Do you think for even a second that my kid(s) would choose to live on that farm for the rest of their lives too? Do you think it's fair that I keep my kids on that farm to keep them away from the rest of the world and cancer and other diseases and famines and cars? Should I keep them in the shade their whole lives to avoid melanoma? When/if they get cancer, I would be wondering if I should have done a fundraiser when I was younger.
Yes, I agree cancer is exacerbated by pollution and other human conventions. No, I don't think my efforts will single-handedly cure cancer. But I am a productive member of the society which I have made a conscious decision to be a part of. I'm expanding minds in a positive way along the way. This fundraiser is only one small thing I'm doing as a weak mortal who might die of cancer one day myself.
I chose to use the internet to share my experiences with people all over the country, most of whom I have never met. Shame on me for not moderating the comments. Shame on the world for fostering negativity that has to erupt and spill out of a person, scalding all in their presence.
Please be aware that my ride has not been a poor-me effort or anything unrealistic in terms of curing cancer. I'm just dealing with death and dying and a pervasive disease that is overwhelming on a personal scale. I'm sorry I didn't make that more clear to those of you have maybe only read my blog one time or so.
-Andrew
Cancer is a man made disease, the phyicisians in the 1700 and 1800 never________________________________
reported a single case of Cancer, malignent or binine...It was not till the
inversion of the internal combustion engine did the first few cases of Malignent
tumors, cancer tumers apear in the medicial jornals. It was after the first
atomic testings were performed in the new mexico desert in 1940 did Cancer start
showing up in large quantitys of people.
There are many other cases
of Radialactive fallout that will also increase the affects of geneologicaly
inherited cancers...
Radition mutates right?
There was a Russian
satallite that fell from space with a soccor ball size of radialactive plutonium
aboard, burnt up in reentry and spred radiation over most of northen Canada and
Russia, the dust traveled world wide.
Polution-preservitives.
Thining of the ozone layer. Led, copper, tin, mercury all found in most ocean
foods.
I have family that have died from cancer, and I would just
like to state that we have made little to no headway in cancer...they say we
have, but if that was true they would be asking for money all the time. Cancer
is still killing people, there is still no cure, and no cure in sight. Since
Terry Fox ran aross Canada in the late 80's for cancer, we still have no cure
for the bone cancer terry died from, nore breast, ovarian, testicular, lung,
brain, or any of the other major organs, they will tell you that their trements
have improved, but its only marginal in reality...
What makes you
think YOUR efforts are going to make a difference? Terry fox's efforts did
nothing. Jim henderson who also did a poorme-othon, his efforts did what for us?
The cure for cancer is easy!!! return the planet back to its origanal
state...thats it. No more cars, or burning of fuels, andthing that was made
after say oh 1600 we just dont use.. no plastic or modern dyes. For christ sake
every day you wake up and eat you Special K... or any other cereal, your eating
Herpys and aids medication...next to cancer drugs are they not the most powerful
drugs on the market?? So while your fighting for cancer, your body is trying to
deal with the packaging cemical from kellogs, which mind you was first created
to treat herpys and aids...not preserve you cereal....
Good luck,
this time next year, your efforts will of proven fruitless...for everyone person
that you get to care, there are 10 that could care less...
I'm glad this was written; someone had to point out some of these things. It's unfortunate there isn't more tact in the world, but then this is the internet and these comments were sent via a faceless, sterile computer not much different than the one you're reading this with. You don't even have to know how to spell to use it.
Some of the facts mentioned might be valid, but my blog isn't a discussion about cancer itself. That said, it does give me a good opportunity to touch on some things.
I gave a ton of thought to the fact that cancer can't be cured by any individual effort. I thought about the fact that the American Cancer Society is a HUGE nonprofit with millions of dollars in their budget; did I want to support that? I researched the Society, even attended a conference they held with some of their researchers working on DNA. Few nonprofits are able to get 100% of their donations to their cause, but the ACS is as good a place to put your filantrophy as any. And they have a great name and network to back them. They have a website I could use to orchestrate my fundriasing while I'm on the road.
My biggest disquietude while planning this fundraiser was the fact that there will be few true 'cures' for cancer. I worked for the Environmental Protection Agency for almost three years. My main assignment was reducing emissions from diesel engines. Diesel emissions have been found to carcinogenic. Does anyone in the world fool themselves to think that we'll see diesel engines go away in our lifetime? Does anyone in the world fool themselves to think that preservatives in food will go away? That we'll stop using fertilizer and pesticide on our crops? Dyes in our clothes? Of course not. These things will be around messing with our physiology for centuries, maybe causing cancer or other serious diseases. But we enjoy them - they make our lives run, they are the backbone of our modern society.
The rantings of the person who wrote that comment are those of a person who is out of touch with the reality of the world in which in we need to feed over 6 million people. I don't like eating preservatives. I don't like excessive packaging. I don't even like fluorescent lights. But I have to eat, I have to be a productive member of my society - in whatever capacity I define that.
It has occurred to me that I could choose to find a place in the world where the air quality is pristine and the growing season is 10 months long. I could establish a farm, buy some organic cows and chickens, organic seeds and live there. Total isolation from the world going on around me, bliss. I could choose to let the world have its pollution, it's packaging and fluorescent lights. My little clean, disease and cancer free world to myself.
Then one day I'd get cancer. What would I do? Sit and let the disease take me over and kill me slowly? I would be somewhere dying wondering if I should have done a fundraiser when I was younger.
Or maybe some day I'd have kids, because I'm destined to be a dad someday.
Do you think for even a second that my kid(s) would choose to live on that farm for the rest of their lives too? Do you think it's fair that I keep my kids on that farm to keep them away from the rest of the world and cancer and other diseases and famines and cars? Should I keep them in the shade their whole lives to avoid melanoma? When/if they get cancer, I would be wondering if I should have done a fundraiser when I was younger.
Yes, I agree cancer is exacerbated by pollution and other human conventions. No, I don't think my efforts will single-handedly cure cancer. But I am a productive member of the society which I have made a conscious decision to be a part of. I'm expanding minds in a positive way along the way. This fundraiser is only one small thing I'm doing as a weak mortal who might die of cancer one day myself.
I chose to use the internet to share my experiences with people all over the country, most of whom I have never met. Shame on me for not moderating the comments. Shame on the world for fostering negativity that has to erupt and spill out of a person, scalding all in their presence.
Please be aware that my ride has not been a poor-me effort or anything unrealistic in terms of curing cancer. I'm just dealing with death and dying and a pervasive disease that is overwhelming on a personal scale. I'm sorry I didn't make that more clear to those of you have maybe only read my blog one time or so.
-Andrew
Friday, October 27, 2006
A Slow Road
Still at my brother's house in Mc Henry, IL. The other day while he and his girlfriend Kristen were at work I raked the leaves. I haven't raked leaves in a few years because we don't have many in Oregon. It was nice to be in the yard with the sun reflecting off the lake. Yard work is one of my favorite things - time to think and be outside.
Raking leaves also leaves one with a great sense of accomplishment. It's beautiful to see the groomed green autumn grass with its combed blades all stretching in one neat direction. The piles of leaves marking progress. Balance between the obsession of getting every leaf and being content with leaving a few in the wet hollows of deep grass.
Tuesday I went for a bike ride. I intended to go 40 miles but at mile 10 I was feeling the Achilles. I turned around and put in a total of 20 over an hour and a half. I iced it three times that evening.
Wednesday I watched a movie in the morning and raked leaves for four hours in the afternoon. I don't usually associate raking with pain other than thumb blisters. However, I realized afterward that my Achilles was pretty sore. More icing and Ibuprofen.
Thursday I helped my brother with some things around the house, taking it easy. Last night the Achilles was still swollen with twinges of pain when I extend the toe all the way.
My mother drove from New Jersey on Wednesday. We've been cooking, laughing and playing with my nephew. We're heading out on Monday, October 30th. Realism is having a hand in the plan from here to Jersey. My route and strategy are as follows:
Monday - Weather permitting, drive down to Rantoul, IL. I'll ride the 20-30 miles into Indiana. We'll find a place to camp and see how my Achilles feels. If it's not too sore, I'll keep riding through Indiana into Ohio.
If the Achilles is sore, we'll drive the two-lane local roads that I would have ridden if I was healthy. Taking our time, stopping in the small towns to talk to people and take photos. This will allow me to continue spreading word of my fundraiser while at the same time experiencing small town America. I've learned that this country is so much more than Interstate rest areas - I can hardly imagine taking the faceless, sterile Interstates to New Jersey after what I've been through already.
I'll use this strategy to get to Freehold, New Jersey; where my parents live. At the very least I intent to ride through the borders - Illinois:Indiana, Indiana:Ohio, Ohio:West Virginia:Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania:New Jersey. The borders had been special places while I was out there on my own. I don't want to pass up those opportunities.
As for the route, I'll start in Rantoul, IL on Hwy 136. East through Indiana on Hwy 28, into Ohio at Union City. Lots of back roads through Ohio; here's a few town names to get you on the right track - (west to east) Piqua, Urbana, Sunbury, Coshocton, Steubenville. West Virginia near Follansbee.
Pennsylvania: Basically south of Pittsburgh (this is a major departure from my previous route because of the snow east of Lake Erie) McKeesport, Greensburg, Johnstown, Orbisonia, New Bloomfield, Lebanon, south of Reading, Doylestown.
Into New Jersey at Washington Crossing. North of Trenton, through Princeton, Englishtown to Freehold!
I plan to be in Freehold on Friday, November 10. On Saturday, November 11th, I'll ride to Allaire State Park than take the bike path to Manasquan. You are all welcome to join me on the ride or meet us at the beach. Mark it on your calendar! The end point of the ride will be at the Manasquan River inlet. I'll ride the bike onto the beach and spread my grandmother's ashes, I'll also pour my bottle of Pacific Ocean water into the Atlantic. We'll have a party at Leggetts afterward.
The last segment is my point of focus. Yes, the journey to New Jersey is important, but getting to ride with my friends and family from Freehold to Manasquan is paramount. Being there on the beach is a fantasy that has driven me forward through the pain, frustration and loneliness. The image was etched on the undersides of my eyelids; as I closed my eyes smiling in the sun in Wyoming I saw us all there together. Many of you have told me how important it will be for you as well.
So, I'll be healthy when I show up in Freehold, I promise everyone that. I won't push myself to ride a ton along the way. I want to save my Achilles for that last defining leg. As November 11th gets closer I'll post directions and details.
Thanks for all the well wishes, comments and poems. By the way, donations have surged in the past week and we're now at 60% - $15,100. I don't know where it will come from, but $10,000 more and I'll have raised $25,000. Every dollar counts. Every person I meet counts.
See you all soon,
Andrew!
Raking leaves also leaves one with a great sense of accomplishment. It's beautiful to see the groomed green autumn grass with its combed blades all stretching in one neat direction. The piles of leaves marking progress. Balance between the obsession of getting every leaf and being content with leaving a few in the wet hollows of deep grass.
Tuesday I went for a bike ride. I intended to go 40 miles but at mile 10 I was feeling the Achilles. I turned around and put in a total of 20 over an hour and a half. I iced it three times that evening.
Wednesday I watched a movie in the morning and raked leaves for four hours in the afternoon. I don't usually associate raking with pain other than thumb blisters. However, I realized afterward that my Achilles was pretty sore. More icing and Ibuprofen.
Thursday I helped my brother with some things around the house, taking it easy. Last night the Achilles was still swollen with twinges of pain when I extend the toe all the way.
My mother drove from New Jersey on Wednesday. We've been cooking, laughing and playing with my nephew. We're heading out on Monday, October 30th. Realism is having a hand in the plan from here to Jersey. My route and strategy are as follows:
Monday - Weather permitting, drive down to Rantoul, IL. I'll ride the 20-30 miles into Indiana. We'll find a place to camp and see how my Achilles feels. If it's not too sore, I'll keep riding through Indiana into Ohio.
If the Achilles is sore, we'll drive the two-lane local roads that I would have ridden if I was healthy. Taking our time, stopping in the small towns to talk to people and take photos. This will allow me to continue spreading word of my fundraiser while at the same time experiencing small town America. I've learned that this country is so much more than Interstate rest areas - I can hardly imagine taking the faceless, sterile Interstates to New Jersey after what I've been through already.
I'll use this strategy to get to Freehold, New Jersey; where my parents live. At the very least I intent to ride through the borders - Illinois:Indiana, Indiana:Ohio, Ohio:West Virginia:Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania:New Jersey. The borders had been special places while I was out there on my own. I don't want to pass up those opportunities.
As for the route, I'll start in Rantoul, IL on Hwy 136. East through Indiana on Hwy 28, into Ohio at Union City. Lots of back roads through Ohio; here's a few town names to get you on the right track - (west to east) Piqua, Urbana, Sunbury, Coshocton, Steubenville. West Virginia near Follansbee.
Pennsylvania: Basically south of Pittsburgh (this is a major departure from my previous route because of the snow east of Lake Erie) McKeesport, Greensburg, Johnstown, Orbisonia, New Bloomfield, Lebanon, south of Reading, Doylestown.
Into New Jersey at Washington Crossing. North of Trenton, through Princeton, Englishtown to Freehold!
I plan to be in Freehold on Friday, November 10. On Saturday, November 11th, I'll ride to Allaire State Park than take the bike path to Manasquan. You are all welcome to join me on the ride or meet us at the beach. Mark it on your calendar! The end point of the ride will be at the Manasquan River inlet. I'll ride the bike onto the beach and spread my grandmother's ashes, I'll also pour my bottle of Pacific Ocean water into the Atlantic. We'll have a party at Leggetts afterward.
The last segment is my point of focus. Yes, the journey to New Jersey is important, but getting to ride with my friends and family from Freehold to Manasquan is paramount. Being there on the beach is a fantasy that has driven me forward through the pain, frustration and loneliness. The image was etched on the undersides of my eyelids; as I closed my eyes smiling in the sun in Wyoming I saw us all there together. Many of you have told me how important it will be for you as well.
So, I'll be healthy when I show up in Freehold, I promise everyone that. I won't push myself to ride a ton along the way. I want to save my Achilles for that last defining leg. As November 11th gets closer I'll post directions and details.
Thanks for all the well wishes, comments and poems. By the way, donations have surged in the past week and we're now at 60% - $15,100. I don't know where it will come from, but $10,000 more and I'll have raised $25,000. Every dollar counts. Every person I meet counts.
See you all soon,
Andrew!
Lake of Healing and The Road Home
Still at my brother's house in Mc Henry, IL. The other day while he and his girlfriend Kristen were at work I raked the leaves. I haven't raked leaves in a few years because we don't have many in Oregon. It was nice to be in the yard with the sun reflecting off the lake. Yard work is one of my favorite things - time to think and be outside.
Raking leaves also leaves one with a great sense of accomplishment. It's beautiful to see the groomed green autumn grass with its combed blades all stretching in one neat direction. The piles of leaves marking progress. Balance between the obsession of getting every leaf and being content with leaving a few in the wet hollows of deep grass.
Tuesday I went for a bike ride. I intended to go 40 miles but at mile 10 I was feeling the Achilles. I turned around and put in a total of 20 over an hour and a half. I iced it three times that evening.
Wednesday I watched a movie in the morning and raked leaves for four hours in the afternoon. I don't usually associate raking
with pain other than thumb blisters. However, I realized afterward that my Achilles was pretty sore. More icing and Ibuprofen.Thursday I helped my brother with some things around the house, taking it easy. Last night the Achilles was still swollen with twinges of pain when I extend the toe all the way.
My mother drove from New Jersey on Wednesday. We've been cooking, laughing and playing with my nephew. We're heading out on Monday, October 30th. Realism is having a hand in the plan from here to Jersey. My route and strategy are as follows:
Monday - Weather permitting, drive down to Rantoul, IL. I'll ride the 20-30 miles into Indiana. We'll find a place to camp and see how my Achilles feels. If it's not too sore, I'll keep riding through Indiana into Ohio.
If the Achilles is sore, we'll drive the two-lane local roads that I would have ridden if I was healthy. Taking our time, stopping in the small towns to talk to people and take photos. This will allow me to continue spreading word of my fundraiser while at the same time experiencing small town America. I've learned that this country is so much more than Interstate rest areas - I can hardly imagine taking the faceless, sterile Interstates to New Jersey after what I've been through already.
I'll use this strategy to get to Freehold, New Jersey; where my parents live. At the very least I intent to ride through the borders - Illinois:Indiana, Indiana:Ohio, Ohio:West Virginia:Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania:New Jersey. The borders had been special places while I was out there on my own. I don't want to pass up those opportunities.
As for the route, I'll start in Rantoul, IL on Hwy 136. East through Indiana on Hwy 28, into Ohio at Union City. Lots of back roads through Ohio; here's a few town names to get you on the right track - (west to east) Piqua, Urbana, Sunbury, Coshocton, Steubenville. West Virgini
a near Follansbee.Pennsylvania: Basically south of Pittsburgh (this is a major departure from my previous route because of the snow east of Lake Erie) McKeesport, Greensburg, Johnstown, Orbisonia, New Bloomfield, Lebanon, south of Reading, Doylestown.
Into New Jersey at Washington Crossing. North of Trenton, through Princeton, Englishtown to Freehold!
I plan to be in Freehold on Friday, November 10. On Saturday, November 11th, I'll ride to Allaire State Park than take the bike path to Manasquan. You are all welcome to join me on the ride or meet us at the beach. Mark it on your calendar! The end point of the ride will be at the Manasquan River inlet. I'll ride the bike onto the beach and spread my grandmother's ashes, I'll also pour my bottle of Pacific Ocean water into the Atlantic. We'll have a party at Leggetts afterward.
The last segment is my point of focus. Yes, the journey to New Jersey is important, but getting to ride with my friends and family from Freehold to Manasquan is paramount. Being there on the beach is a fantasy that has driven me for
ward through the pain, frustration and loneliness. The image was etched on the undersides of my eyelids; as I closed my eyes smiling in the sun in Wyoming I saw us all there together. Many of you have told me how important it will be for you as well.So, I'll be healthy when I show up in Freehold, I promise everyone that. I won't push myself to ride a ton along the way. I want to save my Achilles for that last defining leg. As November 11th gets closer I'll post directions and details.
Thanks for all the well wishes, comments and poems. By the way, donations have surged in the past week and we're now at 60% - $15,100. I don't know where it will come from, but $10,000 more and I'll have raised $25,000. Every dollar counts. Every person I meet counts.
See you all soon,
Andrew!
Saturday, October 21, 2006
This is Not a Tear
Doc says my Achilles isn't torn. MRI shows inflammation in both the tendon and the bursa that cushions it from the bone. Diagnosis; Achilles tendonitis and bursitis of the retrocalcaneal bursa. This is the bursa (small fluid-filled sack) that cushions the tendon where it runs over the calcaneus (the bone that forms the heel of the foot). 
600 mg of Ibuprofen three times a day, ice three times a day. A bunch of rest to let the initial onset settle down.
Knowing it wasn't torn was all I needed. I went for an 11 mile ride at an easy pace over an hour's time yesterday. There's a great park (M0rraine Hills) about a mile from Matt's house; rolling hills and no traffic. I taped the Achilles from the ball of my foot, down to the heel and up to mid-calf. It relieved most of the pressure. During the ride I only felt pain a few times - mild. Don't worry; I wasn't pushing myself at all, just easy spinning. Trying to keep my heart rate up.
I'm leaving Illinois next week. My mom is driving out from New Jersey and will take the weight. She'll be my road support for a few weeks. All I have to do is ride the bike for the miles it takes to get to Jersey. I think I'll zoom without the 60 lbs of gear holding me back.
I'm relaxing at my brother's house. I've been playing with my nephew, Matty all weekend. We carved pumpkins and played with hot wheels. I taught him a little about balance on his bike...made him close his eyes as I rocked the bike back and forth so he could feel his weight shifting on instinct.
I'm getting antsy. Ready to exercise. My legs are tense with expectation. Ready to power me forward. Below is the story of eight days of riding from Colorado to Iowa. ___________________________________________________________
Monday 10/9 It had been cold and rainy for two days in Fort Collins. I knew I wouldn't last with the clothes I had so I went over to a bike shop and bought a pair of wind block/water resistant fleece pants. On my ride to the shop I found another broken spoke. Replaced it and trued the wheel at the shop.
I left Amy and Mike's house at 1pm. I got to the edge of town and my gloves were soaked. Wind was blasting the cold water right to my finger bones, they had gone numb. I saw a hardware store and bought a pair of big green rubber gloves to fit over my own gloves.
There was a 10mph headwind and the rain was coming in a dense mist with occasional shots of big drops. The temperature was 38 degrees.
My hands kept going numb regardless of the gloves. My jacket was no better than a sweatshirt; the rain came right through and soaked my chest and arms. Before I left, I duct taped a clear plastic bag over the helmet. At least my head was dry. I found it extremely tiring to ride with rain pants but the conditions called for them. They actually worked pretty well and my legs were only damp with perspiration.
I made it Ault (the sign reads 'A Unique Little Town'). The pizza shop let me put my arms in their oven to warm up and dry some. My face was bright red. I was happy I hadn't shaved my beard since starting the trip; it was good insulation.
The cold, soaking, driving rain. The exhausting swooshes of the rain pants as I pedaled. My new water bladder was leaking air between the mouthpiece and the hose, making it a huge effort to suck in a mouthful of water. Malfunctioning gear, brutal conditions; on top of this I had a sense that I was starting all over. I was completely out of the psychological and physiological rhythm of endless cycling. I thought of giving up a hundred times this day. Thoughts of sunny autumn days and getting to Nebraska kept my chin up.
The map showed the town of Briggsburg to be another 20 miles, I headed out. I made it another 15 miles or so and called Amy and Mike. "Um, I'm completely frozen and soaking wet." "Do you think you can find a place to stay tonight?" "I'm really not sure, but I don't think so. I'm nervous I won't make it to town before it gets dark." "OK, we'll come get you."
Right after I hung up, it dawned on me that they'd have to drive here AND back. They were about 45 minutes away. In the morning I'd be right where I started that morning. I tried calling back to say that it wasn't necessary but the phone didn't have reception anymore. So frustrating.
I rode into the rain for 30 minutes then turned around and rode back west. We found each other soon enough. Mike helped me toss the bike into his truck. As I struggled I realized how out of it I had become. Getting my gloves off was difficult. It wasn't the numbness so much as the confusion. I jumped in the cab and saw how white they were. The pain of warming up was similar to that of ice climbing - millions of needles poking and wiggling as heat melts the frozen nerves.
I was pretty close to hypothermia but had no idea while I was riding. I'm really glad they came to pick me up. I would have had to knock on every door in Briggsburg to find someone who would let me in. There was no way I could have camped that night; the second I started taking things out of the bags everything would have gotten soaked. My slow brain would have spent way too long setting up the tent. The interior would have gotten soaked also. In my state I needed dryness and warmth to combat the budding hypothermia.
Back in Fort Collins we stopped at a hardware store and I bought a can of waterproof spray. Amy and Mike made tempeh burgers and I also inhaled a bowl of ramen. We threw my clothes in the dryer and I sprayed the jacket with the waterproofer. I inspected the cargo and found most of the stuff in the bags damp, including my down sleeping bag. I repacked everything in plastic in preparation for the next day's battle. I passed out at 8 o'clock.
Daily - 35 miles, 11.2 mph, Wet and frozen.
Tuesday 10/10 Amy drove me out to where they picked me up the night before. So cool not to have to re-ride the 35 miles in to the wet headwind. Weather was much the same as the day before but not as cold.
Within an hour the rain had slowed to a light mist. I got a flat and stopped in the lee of a tree to fix it. I found a small wire in the tire and pulled it out with pliers. In the rain, I was riding right over all the debris in the shoulder because I didn't want to swerve into the lane. I also couldn't see the stuff because my glasses were coated with water. Trucks and cars threw spray at me as they blasted by doing 65 mph.
Briggsburg was a small community of maybe 45 people. Only a few houses, no stores. I surely would have been in bad shape the night before; knocking on doors, getting colder in the dark. Few options, begging to be let in.
I rode on through for hours and hours and by 4:30 I was in Sterling, CO. I got information at the tourist center, just off the interstate. After telling them about the fundraiser, they gave me written permission to camp in the rest area for the night. The sun was slicing through a gap in the clouds to the west. I had a nice evening getting back into the swing of camping after a long day of riding and what felt like an eternity of time off.
I bought a tube of bathroom caulk at a local hardware store in Sterling. I used this to seal up the zipper that runs down the side of the rear panniers. I think that's where much of the water had entered and gotten my sleeping bag wet.
Daily - 76.5 miles, 13.6 avg.
Wednesday, 10/11 It was surprisingly warm all night, despite a forecast of sub-freezing temps. I think the diesel engines of the idling trucks in the rest area must have taken the chill out of the air. Bad for air quality but great for taking the edge off the night air.
Rolling hills for a few miles and then onto the flat plains. I had dropped about 1200 feet from the elevation of Fort Collins. Steady wind out of the northwest, helped me cruise along.
I began to see grain elevators in the distance and soon realized that in order to make a town, you have to have a grain elevator. Without a grain elevator there is no town. Psychologically, it was a relief - I could see the next town ten miles ahead, the top of the grain elevator sticking up above the corn and the rolling hills. The day turned into seven to ten mile segments. I'd see it was 21 miles to the end of the day and mentally, "OK, just a few more sevens and I'm there." Three seven's is easier than one 21.
I crossed into Nebraska at the town of Venango, NE. Two nines and I was in Grant. In the supermarket I asked about staying in the fairgrounds. Standing right behind me was the Mayor, Billy Wilson. He told me to go right ahead.
As I was simmering my dirty pot to steam the scraps off the sides, Billy came driving up to check on me. He had unlocked the bathroom at the lumber yard a block away. There was heat and running water in case I woke up freezing in the middle of the night. I was very grateful for his support.
Daily - 86.8 miles, 13.5 avg. Nebraska!!!!
Thursday, 10/12
Chilly but not freezing in the morning. Minor snow flurries the night before but I was under the livestock pavilion and was warm and dry in my tent.
Flat riding for a few hours and then into the ravines and canyons of Medicine Creek. I thought Nebraska was all flat! As frustrating as it was, the terrain was beautiful. I was shocked to see the vertical mud sides of the shallow ravines. The trees were all starting to turn greenish yellow and some were already orange. The sun was shining and I was riding through the idyllic fall day that had lured me forward when the cold rain battered me two days earlier.
I passed through another time zone! From Mountain to Central Time and lost another hour. I saw no sign to marking the longitude and didn't realize it for a few hours. I guess the State only marks time zone changes on the interstate roads.
Hwy 23 is certainly a local road; only two lanes and there is no shoulder in most places. I passed through Grainton, which shows up on maps but is considered an 'unincorporated' town. An unincorporated town is one which has no central government and therefore no municipal taxes. Very intriguing.
All the little towns along the way were just that. Small towns with populations ranging from a few dozen to several hundred citizens. I eventually made it to Franam and was told I could camp in the city park. It was next to the combined elementary/high school. Since there are only a few dozen kids in the community, the school is shut down and the kids get bussed to Eustis. No buses or jubilant kids in the morning to roust me early. Sweet.
I met a guy who had recently moved to Farnam from Cape Cod, Massachusetts. His mother-in-law was sick, so I think he and his wife were living with other relatives in town. He had his dog and his camper and was hoping to last through the cold until Thanksgiving before RV'ing south for the winter.
No rain or snow, not too cold. I had ripped my left glove during the day and spoke to Joe Ferdinando about it. He was really eager to help me with gear, so we arranged to have a pair FedEx'ed to the town of my next food drop, Dorchester.
Daily - 93.75 miles, 15.4 mph avg. Longest day! New time zone! Ripped glove.
Friday, 10/13
I woke and started packing. While stuffing my sleeping bag, a man approached with a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs. Cliff Transmeier is the local pastor. He saw me just getting up while on his morning walk. He thought I would appreciate some eggs and coffee. Most interesting, he scrambled some eggs with cheese and put 'em on toast lathered in mayonnaise. Weird combination but it was REALLY good. Try it!
The ravines and easy rolling hills soon opened onto the plains. I was flying with a tailwind. I felt strong despite three big days of riding so far. I also needed to make it to Dorchester by Saturday so I needed one more BIG day this day.
I stopped at about noon in the wind eddy of a low ewe bush. I laid out my pad and dozed for a half hour in the sunny fall afternoon. I live for windy, sunny autumn days. They bring back so many memories from childhood. All my best memories of backpacking and rock climbing are tied to the musty smell of decaying leaves and the rustle of wind through colorful trees. A good respite.
Into Holdrege after 52 miles. I talked with a mentally disabled man outside the supermarket. He wanted to know all about my bike. Kept saying, "I'm gonna do this maybe next summer or the one after." I told him I was headed to Hastings. "There's a college there. I'm gonna go to college there next year, maybe next." It's strange, but after hours of riding endless miles with no one to talk to, a mentally disabled guy was the easiest person to talk to. I felt I could communicate at his lethargic mental speed. I also felt no pretense, no need to say anything more than answer his simple questions. My answers didn't matter much either. He was going to agree with everything I said and think it was cool. I could have told him I was an astronaut when I'm not riding a bike cross country and he would have told me he contacted NASA one time. But I was honest and straightforward since that what he deserved.
Eventually I made it to Hastings. 104 miles!
I went into a restaurant I thought would have great burgers. Maybe they did, but the blaring heavy metal and the hard stares from the good old boys made me rethink. Way too much noise and angst so I apologized to the waitress and walked over to the Mexican restaurant next door. I looked wasted and I was. I was so tired I could only sit and eat slowly.
I saw a fairgrounds on the edge of town and called the police dispatch to ask about it. They said it was OK, so I rode over. The parking lot was full of RV's and campers. One guy was staggering around drunk and said hello. I asked if there was going to be a rodeo or something. "Nope, pool tournament tomorrow here." That explained both the campers and his intoxication.
I found a livestock pavilion, opened the cattle gate, let myself in and closed it behind me. I was asleep in almost no time. It was the first time I felt as if the sleeping pad wasn't thick enough. My legs
Daily - 104 miles, 15.7 mph avg. Century ride!
Saturday, 10/14
One more sprint day. I indulged in Burger King for breakfast - three big sandwiches, coffee and whatever ice tea stuff they had in the soda machine. I called the Post Office in Dorchester to see how late they are open. "I close up at 9:15 this morning." I looked at my watch, it was 9:10. "You mean you close in five minutes?" "Yes, why?" I told her about my package and she confirmed that it was there. She had read Tracey's cheers scrawled all over the boxes and knew I was riding for a fundraiser. "Take my home phone number and call me when you get into town. I'll come down and open up to give you your boxes." THANK YOU.
To be honest, the section of Hwy 6 between Hastings and Dorchester was a blur. My butt was impossibly sore and my shoulders were screaming. All I did this day was ride, stretch and eat. I'd ride an hour and then stop, stretch and eat again. Same thing with the grain elevators; every seven to ten miles. I did pass an ethanol refinery where corn is turned into the gasoline additive, ethanol. All the gasoline in the Midwest is blended with ethanol for various automotive engineering and environmental reasons. Unfortunately, camping stoves don't like ethanol. Sputter, sputter even though it was a brand new stove.
Hours later I rode into Dorchester. I went into the grocery store that was supposed to have received the FedEx'ed gloves from Joe Ferdinando. FedEx hadn't arrived and it was too late to expect a package. I called Jennifer from the Post Office and she was there in minutes, handing over the 20 pounds of food boxes.
I was told I could camp in the city park. As I spread the contents of my remaining food and the new food delivery on the picnic table, I found myself entertaining company. Ten year-old Alex and his friends live in the park when they aren't at home or at school. I wasn't sure what to expect of my visitors, but after a few minutes their honesty and sincerity became apparent.
"You must be rich!" when they saw all my camping gear, and "Wow, you have everything you need!" "What's this little computer thing do?"
"You can cook right here!"
One kid in particular had excellent geography skills. "Yeah, Washington is above Oregon and Idaho is east, then Wyoming. Colorado is below Wyoming. We're right next to Colorado and Wyoming too. Are you going into Iowa next?" (map of western US)
They showed me the back door into the bar to use the bathroom. It seemed half the town was in the bar watching the Nebraska vs. Kansas State football game. (Nebraska slammed 'em). They also told me where the light switch was in case I wanted to turn off the park lights before I fell asleep.
Alex's older brother came by and eventually told him they needed to go home. "No, this guy needs company. I'm sad because he doesn't have anyone to hang out with." It was really nice to have a few little friends for the evening.
Daily - 70.5 miles, 13.5 mph avg. Food box!
Sunday, 10/15
It rained overnight and I pulled up the stakes of the tent and slept in the open, but under the picnic pavilion. I didn't want to have to haul a wet tent along with the 20 pounds of fresh food.
As I was taking pictures of my camp spot, Alex rode up on his bicycle. "Hey, what are you taking pictures of?" He snapped a shot of me and I took this one of him. He rode with me out of town to the highway.
I rode into Crete. It is a nice town, similar to my hometown of Freehold, NJ. Old downtown area, a Nestle/Purina plant on the edge of town. Everyone was very nice, courteous drivers even. When I had asked Alex about Crete he said, "Oh watch out for your bike. Crete is just a bunch of Mexicans and black people shootin' 'em." Makes me wonder if he got that from the news or somewhere else.
There was some light rain about noon. The day before I had been brash enough to take the plastic bag off my helmet. So I stopped in a cemetery east of Roca under some evergreens and taped a new bag on. I also used some of the waterproof spray on my jacket and the panniers. As soon as I left the cemetery the rain stopped of course.
I took some narrow county roads east out of Roca then Hwy 43 north through Bennet. The whole area was rolling but wide open. It reminded me very much of the Brandywine country in southeastern Pennsylvania where my aunt, uncle and cousin, Linda, Barry and Gretchin, live. It was beautiful but exasperating because of the mist, light headwinds and endless hills.
East on Hwy 2, which was essentially an interstate. Four lanes, divided, big shoulder, lots of trucks and traffic spraying the road water on me. I passed the 2000 mile mark at the entrance to Hwy 2.
Evening found me in Nebraska City. No one in this town was friendly to me except for one store clerk. She pointed me to a State park along the Missouri River where I could camp and get a shower. I found the camp as dark was setting in. There were two trailers that looked like they had no regard for the 14-day camping limit. The owners of one camper drove up and I waved and hollered hello. They just stared at me and hustled into their trailer like I was an escaped convict wielding a shotgun.
Throughout the evening and night loud, lifted pickups growled into the campsite and flashed lights at me. They would drive down toward the river, look at the water for a minute and then growl back past me out of the area. I slept with my knife and big bamboo flute in the sleeping bag.
Daily - 77.75 miles, 12.5 mph avg. Passed 2000 miles!
Monday, 10/16 - TRACEY's BIRTHDAY!!!!!
I rode out of the campground and my right Achilles was immediately painful. I slowly pedaled out of Nebraska and into Iowa. Thick dark mist. The shoulders turned to gravel in Iowa. Two lanes, the white fog line right on the edge of the uneven pavement. No room for me to ride really.
I made it 50 miles into the town of Clarinda where I stayed in a hotel room. My gear was soaked. My clothes were damp with the sweat and oil of eight days of riding. I'm not sure what I was running on but it wasn't much.
I was pushing my body and mind. Asking for spiritual help. Calling friends, seeking comfort. I had gone 600 miles in eight days. I was sprinting to my brother's house, my next oasis in the sea of the Midwest.
I'll ask myself for a long time whether the pain was really that bad or if I just needed to pull the plug to keep from going crazy. Yes, I have an injury, but severity is the key for me. "Was it really that bad?" As days go by and the memories of the pain recede I will ask this more and more.
600 mg of Ibuprofen three times a day, ice three times a day. A bunch of rest to let the initial onset settle down.
Knowing it wasn't torn was all I needed. I went for an 11 mile ride at an easy pace over an hour's time yesterday. There's a great park (M0rraine Hills) about a mile from Matt's house; rolling hills and no traffic. I taped the Achilles from the ball of my foot, down to the heel and up to mid-calf. It relieved most of the pressure. During the ride I only felt pain a few times - mild. Don't worry; I wasn't pushing myself at all, just easy spinning. Trying to keep my heart rate up.
I'm leaving Illinois next week. My mom is driving out from New Jersey and will take the weight. She'll be my road support for a few weeks. All I have to do is ride the bike for the miles it takes to get to Jersey. I think I'll zoom without the 60 lbs of gear holding me back.
I'm relaxing at my brother's house. I've been playing with my nephew, Matty all weekend. We carved pumpkins and played with hot wheels. I taught him a little about balance on his bike...made him close his eyes as I rocked the bike back and forth so he could feel his weight shifting on instinct.
I'm getting antsy. Ready to exercise. My legs are tense with expectation. Ready to power me forward. Below is the story of eight days of riding from Colorado to Iowa. ___________________________________________________________
Monday 10/9 It had been cold and rainy for two days in Fort Collins. I knew I wouldn't last with the clothes I had so I went over to a bike shop and bought a pair of wind block/water resistant fleece pants. On my ride to the shop I found another broken spoke. Replaced it and trued the wheel at the shop.
I left Amy and Mike's house at 1pm. I got to the edge of town and my gloves were soaked. Wind was blasting the cold water right to my finger bones, they had gone numb. I saw a hardware store and bought a pair of big green rubber gloves to fit over my own gloves.
There was a 10mph headwind and the rain was coming in a dense mist with occasional shots of big drops. The temperature was 38 degrees.
My hands kept going numb regardless of the gloves. My jacket was no better than a sweatshirt; the rain came right through and soaked my chest and arms. Before I left, I duct taped a clear plastic bag over the helmet. At least my head was dry. I found it extremely tiring to ride with rain pants but the conditions called for them. They actually worked pretty well and my legs were only damp with perspiration.
I made it Ault (the sign reads 'A Unique Little Town'). The pizza shop let me put my arms in their oven to warm up and dry some. My face was bright red. I was happy I hadn't shaved my beard since starting the trip; it was good insulation.
The cold, soaking, driving rain. The exhausting swooshes of the rain pants as I pedaled. My new water bladder was leaking air between the mouthpiece and the hose, making it a huge effort to suck in a mouthful of water. Malfunctioning gear, brutal conditions; on top of this I had a sense that I was starting all over. I was completely out of the psychological and physiological rhythm of endless cycling. I thought of giving up a hundred times this day. Thoughts of sunny autumn days and getting to Nebraska kept my chin up.
The map showed the town of Briggsburg to be another 20 miles, I headed out. I made it another 15 miles or so and called Amy and Mike. "Um, I'm completely frozen and soaking wet." "Do you think you can find a place to stay tonight?" "I'm really not sure, but I don't think so. I'm nervous I won't make it to town before it gets dark." "OK, we'll come get you."
Right after I hung up, it dawned on me that they'd have to drive here AND back. They were about 45 minutes away. In the morning I'd be right where I started that morning. I tried calling back to say that it wasn't necessary but the phone didn't have reception anymore. So frustrating.
I rode into the rain for 30 minutes then turned around and rode back west. We found each other soon enough. Mike helped me toss the bike into his truck. As I struggled I realized how out of it I had become. Getting my gloves off was difficult. It wasn't the numbness so much as the confusion. I jumped in the cab and saw how white they were. The pain of warming up was similar to that of ice climbing - millions of needles poking and wiggling as heat melts the frozen nerves.
I was pretty close to hypothermia but had no idea while I was riding. I'm really glad they came to pick me up. I would have had to knock on every door in Briggsburg to find someone who would let me in. There was no way I could have camped that night; the second I started taking things out of the bags everything would have gotten soaked. My slow brain would have spent way too long setting up the tent. The interior would have gotten soaked also. In my state I needed dryness and warmth to combat the budding hypothermia.
Back in Fort Collins we stopped at a hardware store and I bought a can of waterproof spray. Amy and Mike made tempeh burgers and I also inhaled a bowl of ramen. We threw my clothes in the dryer and I sprayed the jacket with the waterproofer. I inspected the cargo and found most of the stuff in the bags damp, including my down sleeping bag. I repacked everything in plastic in preparation for the next day's battle. I passed out at 8 o'clock.
Daily - 35 miles, 11.2 mph, Wet and frozen.
Tuesday 10/10 Amy drove me out to where they picked me up the night before. So cool not to have to re-ride the 35 miles in to the wet headwind. Weather was much the same as the day before but not as cold.
Within an hour the rain had slowed to a light mist. I got a flat and stopped in the lee of a tree to fix it. I found a small wire in the tire and pulled it out with pliers. In the rain, I was riding right over all the debris in the shoulder because I didn't want to swerve into the lane. I also couldn't see the stuff because my glasses were coated with water. Trucks and cars threw spray at me as they blasted by doing 65 mph.
Briggsburg was a small community of maybe 45 people. Only a few houses, no stores. I surely would have been in bad shape the night before; knocking on doors, getting colder in the dark. Few options, begging to be let in.
I rode on through for hours and hours and by 4:30 I was in Sterling, CO. I got information at the tourist center, just off the interstate. After telling them about the fundraiser, they gave me written permission to camp in the rest area for the night. The sun was slicing through a gap in the clouds to the west. I had a nice evening getting back into the swing of camping after a long day of riding and what felt like an eternity of time off.
I bought a tube of bathroom caulk at a local hardware store in Sterling. I used this to seal up the zipper that runs down the side of the rear panniers. I think that's where much of the water had entered and gotten my sleeping bag wet.
Daily - 76.5 miles, 13.6 avg.
Wednesday, 10/11 It was surprisingly warm all night, despite a forecast of sub-freezing temps. I think the diesel engines of the idling trucks in the rest area must have taken the chill out of the air. Bad for air quality but great for taking the edge off the night air.
Rolling hills for a few miles and then onto the flat plains. I had dropped about 1200 feet from the elevation of Fort Collins. Steady wind out of the northwest, helped me cruise along.
I began to see grain elevators in the distance and soon realized that in order to make a town, you have to have a grain elevator. Without a grain elevator there is no town. Psychologically, it was a relief - I could see the next town ten miles ahead, the top of the grain elevator sticking up above the corn and the rolling hills. The day turned into seven to ten mile segments. I'd see it was 21 miles to the end of the day and mentally, "OK, just a few more sevens and I'm there." Three seven's is easier than one 21.
I crossed into Nebraska at the town of Venango, NE. Two nines and I was in Grant. In the supermarket I asked about staying in the fairgrounds. Standing right behind me was the Mayor, Billy Wilson. He told me to go right ahead.
As I was simmering my dirty pot to steam the scraps off the sides, Billy came driving up to check on me. He had unlocked the bathroom at the lumber yard a block away. There was heat and running water in case I woke up freezing in the middle of the night. I was very grateful for his support.
Daily - 86.8 miles, 13.5 avg. Nebraska!!!!
Thursday, 10/12
Chilly but not freezing in the morning. Minor snow flurries the night before but I was under the livestock pavilion and was warm and dry in my tent.
Flat riding for a few hours and then into the ravines and canyons of Medicine Creek. I thought Nebraska was all flat! As frustrating as it was, the terrain was beautiful. I was shocked to see the vertical mud sides of the shallow ravines. The trees were all starting to turn greenish yellow and some were already orange. The sun was shining and I was riding through the idyllic fall day that had lured me forward when the cold rain battered me two days earlier.
I passed through another time zone! From Mountain to Central Time and lost another hour. I saw no sign to marking the longitude and didn't realize it for a few hours. I guess the State only marks time zone changes on the interstate roads.
Hwy 23 is certainly a local road; only two lanes and there is no shoulder in most places. I passed through Grainton, which shows up on maps but is considered an 'unincorporated' town. An unincorporated town is one which has no central government and therefore no municipal taxes. Very intriguing.
All the little towns along the way were just that. Small towns with populations ranging from a few dozen to several hundred citizens. I eventually made it to Franam and was told I could camp in the city park. It was next to the combined elementary/high school. Since there are only a few dozen kids in the community, the school is shut down and the kids get bussed to Eustis. No buses or jubilant kids in the morning to roust me early. Sweet.
I met a guy who had recently moved to Farnam from Cape Cod, Massachusetts. His mother-in-law was sick, so I think he and his wife were living with other relatives in town. He had his dog and his camper and was hoping to last through the cold until Thanksgiving before RV'ing south for the winter.
No rain or snow, not too cold. I had ripped my left glove during the day and spoke to Joe Ferdinando about it. He was really eager to help me with gear, so we arranged to have a pair FedEx'ed to the town of my next food drop, Dorchester.
Daily - 93.75 miles, 15.4 mph avg. Longest day! New time zone! Ripped glove.
Friday, 10/13
I woke and started packing. While stuffing my sleeping bag, a man approached with a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs. Cliff Transmeier is the local pastor. He saw me just getting up while on his morning walk. He thought I would appreciate some eggs and coffee. Most interesting, he scrambled some eggs with cheese and put 'em on toast lathered in mayonnaise. Weird combination but it was REALLY good. Try it!
The ravines and easy rolling hills soon opened onto the plains. I was flying with a tailwind. I felt strong despite three big days of riding so far. I also needed to make it to Dorchester by Saturday so I needed one more BIG day this day.
I stopped at about noon in the wind eddy of a low ewe bush. I laid out my pad and dozed for a half hour in the sunny fall afternoon. I live for windy, sunny autumn days. They bring back so many memories from childhood. All my best memories of backpacking and rock climbing are tied to the musty smell of decaying leaves and the rustle of wind through colorful trees. A good respite.
Into Holdrege after 52 miles. I talked with a mentally disabled man outside the supermarket. He wanted to know all about my bike. Kept saying, "I'm gonna do this maybe next summer or the one after." I told him I was headed to Hastings. "There's a college there. I'm gonna go to college there next year, maybe next." It's strange, but after hours of riding endless miles with no one to talk to, a mentally disabled guy was the easiest person to talk to. I felt I could communicate at his lethargic mental speed. I also felt no pretense, no need to say anything more than answer his simple questions. My answers didn't matter much either. He was going to agree with everything I said and think it was cool. I could have told him I was an astronaut when I'm not riding a bike cross country and he would have told me he contacted NASA one time. But I was honest and straightforward since that what he deserved.
Eventually I made it to Hastings. 104 miles!
I went into a restaurant I thought would have great burgers. Maybe they did, but the blaring heavy metal and the hard stares from the good old boys made me rethink. Way too much noise and angst so I apologized to the waitress and walked over to the Mexican restaurant next door. I looked wasted and I was. I was so tired I could only sit and eat slowly.
I saw a fairgrounds on the edge of town and called the police dispatch to ask about it. They said it was OK, so I rode over. The parking lot was full of RV's and campers. One guy was staggering around drunk and said hello. I asked if there was going to be a rodeo or something. "Nope, pool tournament tomorrow here." That explained both the campers and his intoxication.
I found a livestock pavilion, opened the cattle gate, let myself in and closed it behind me. I was asleep in almost no time. It was the first time I felt as if the sleeping pad wasn't thick enough. My legs
Daily - 104 miles, 15.7 mph avg. Century ride!
Saturday, 10/14
One more sprint day. I indulged in Burger King for breakfast - three big sandwiches, coffee and whatever ice tea stuff they had in the soda machine. I called the Post Office in Dorchester to see how late they are open. "I close up at 9:15 this morning." I looked at my watch, it was 9:10. "You mean you close in five minutes?" "Yes, why?" I told her about my package and she confirmed that it was there. She had read Tracey's cheers scrawled all over the boxes and knew I was riding for a fundraiser. "Take my home phone number and call me when you get into town. I'll come down and open up to give you your boxes." THANK YOU.
To be honest, the section of Hwy 6 between Hastings and Dorchester was a blur. My butt was impossibly sore and my shoulders were screaming. All I did this day was ride, stretch and eat. I'd ride an hour and then stop, stretch and eat again. Same thing with the grain elevators; every seven to ten miles. I did pass an ethanol refinery where corn is turned into the gasoline additive, ethanol. All the gasoline in the Midwest is blended with ethanol for various automotive engineering and environmental reasons. Unfortunately, camping stoves don't like ethanol. Sputter, sputter even though it was a brand new stove.
Hours later I rode into Dorchester. I went into the grocery store that was supposed to have received the FedEx'ed gloves from Joe Ferdinando. FedEx hadn't arrived and it was too late to expect a package. I called Jennifer from the Post Office and she was there in minutes, handing over the 20 pounds of food boxes.
I was told I could camp in the city park. As I spread the contents of my remaining food and the new food delivery on the picnic table, I found myself entertaining company. Ten year-old Alex and his friends live in the park when they aren't at home or at school. I wasn't sure what to expect of my visitors, but after a few minutes their honesty and sincerity became apparent.
"You must be rich!" when they saw all my camping gear, and "Wow, you have everything you need!" "What's this little computer thing do?"
"You can cook right here!"
One kid in particular had excellent geography skills. "Yeah, Washington is above Oregon and Idaho is east, then Wyoming. Colorado is below Wyoming. We're right next to Colorado and Wyoming too. Are you going into Iowa next?" (map of western US)
They showed me the back door into the bar to use the bathroom. It seemed half the town was in the bar watching the Nebraska vs. Kansas State football game. (Nebraska slammed 'em). They also told me where the light switch was in case I wanted to turn off the park lights before I fell asleep.
Alex's older brother came by and eventually told him they needed to go home. "No, this guy needs company. I'm sad because he doesn't have anyone to hang out with." It was really nice to have a few little friends for the evening.
Daily - 70.5 miles, 13.5 mph avg. Food box!
Sunday, 10/15
It rained overnight and I pulled up the stakes of the tent and slept in the open, but under the picnic pavilion. I didn't want to have to haul a wet tent along with the 20 pounds of fresh food.
As I was taking pictures of my camp spot, Alex rode up on his bicycle. "Hey, what are you taking pictures of?" He snapped a shot of me and I took this one of him. He rode with me out of town to the highway.
I rode into Crete. It is a nice town, similar to my hometown of Freehold, NJ. Old downtown area, a Nestle/Purina plant on the edge of town. Everyone was very nice, courteous drivers even. When I had asked Alex about Crete he said, "Oh watch out for your bike. Crete is just a bunch of Mexicans and black people shootin' 'em." Makes me wonder if he got that from the news or somewhere else.
There was some light rain about noon. The day before I had been brash enough to take the plastic bag off my helmet. So I stopped in a cemetery east of Roca under some evergreens and taped a new bag on. I also used some of the waterproof spray on my jacket and the panniers. As soon as I left the cemetery the rain stopped of course.
I took some narrow county roads east out of Roca then Hwy 43 north through Bennet. The whole area was rolling but wide open. It reminded me very much of the Brandywine country in southeastern Pennsylvania where my aunt, uncle and cousin, Linda, Barry and Gretchin, live. It was beautiful but exasperating because of the mist, light headwinds and endless hills.
East on Hwy 2, which was essentially an interstate. Four lanes, divided, big shoulder, lots of trucks and traffic spraying the road water on me. I passed the 2000 mile mark at the entrance to Hwy 2.
Evening found me in Nebraska City. No one in this town was friendly to me except for one store clerk. She pointed me to a State park along the Missouri River where I could camp and get a shower. I found the camp as dark was setting in. There were two trailers that looked like they had no regard for the 14-day camping limit. The owners of one camper drove up and I waved and hollered hello. They just stared at me and hustled into their trailer like I was an escaped convict wielding a shotgun.
Throughout the evening and night loud, lifted pickups growled into the campsite and flashed lights at me. They would drive down toward the river, look at the water for a minute and then growl back past me out of the area. I slept with my knife and big bamboo flute in the sleeping bag.
Daily - 77.75 miles, 12.5 mph avg. Passed 2000 miles!
Monday, 10/16 - TRACEY's BIRTHDAY!!!!!
I rode out of the campground and my right Achilles was immediately painful. I slowly pedaled out of Nebraska and into Iowa. Thick dark mist. The shoulders turned to gravel in Iowa. Two lanes, the white fog line right on the edge of the uneven pavement. No room for me to ride really.
I made it 50 miles into the town of Clarinda where I stayed in a hotel room. My gear was soaked. My clothes were damp with the sweat and oil of eight days of riding. I'm not sure what I was running on but it wasn't much.
I was pushing my body and mind. Asking for spiritual help. Calling friends, seeking comfort. I had gone 600 miles in eight days. I was sprinting to my brother's house, my next oasis in the sea of the Midwest.
I'll ask myself for a long time whether the pain was really that bad or if I just needed to pull the plug to keep from going crazy. Yes, I have an injury, but severity is the key for me. "Was it really that bad?" As days go by and the memories of the pain recede I will ask this more and more.Wednesday, October 18, 2006
The Irony of Achilles
I'm in Fox Lake, Illinois at my brother's house. First time I've had the chance to personally update you all.
I arrived here from Fort Collins via various modes of transportation. About half the miles were on my bike, the other half were on my butt. I have some problem with my right Achilles tendon. It's swollen, tender and feels as though it's squeaking when I extend my foot and bring it back again. I have an appointment with a sports medicine doc tomorrow, with the assurance that if I need an MRI they can fit that in tomorrow as well.
Monday night I rolled into Clarinda, Iowa. The fog was condensing and the gray soup in the air grew darker. I found a motel on the edge of town. My gear came out of the panniers, then out of the plastic bags and soon the motel room was littered with the debris of a fully loaded cycling odyssey. The window unit inflated the cramped room with hot air and I cracked the window to let out the smell and dampness of drying gear.
A lonely motel room in a small town. My phone, my friend, my link. Slurping hastily made mac n' cheese I called my Grandfather in New Jersey to chat. Customary pleasantries followed by a quick synopsis. I'm here, the weather is crap, and yes I think the hotel clerk will return my clothes after he washes them.
Down to brass tacks. "My ankle is bothering me, it's the strangest thing. It hurts a little to ride up hills but I'm icing it and it should be fine." I think he must have heard something I wasn't saying. Maybe the words I used, the cadence of my speech, the tone at the end of the sentences... He heard me say, "My ankle hurts like hell and I can't walk or ride the bike very well, but I'm gonna keep riding to New Jersey no matter how bad it hurts or how bad the weather gets." His wisdom must have deduced that I was going to ride my bike until my legs fell off or I froze out there.
"You know Andy, nobody in the world has more respect for you than I do. I have to let you know that I would have even more respect if you stopped riding because you're in danger. You have a long life to live and you wouldn't want to injure yourself over this. You've come a long way already."
At face value you could misconstrue this as an encouragement to give up. Don't be fooled. He was saying the unspoken that many of you have wanted to say but can't, don't or won't say for a million reasons. "We want to see you get to New Jersey, but we don't want to see you sacrifice yourself in the process."
I went to bed after talking to Tracey on her birthday. I iced my ankle all night and lathered on topical ibuprophen/lidocaine. I woke up and it hadn't changed. Oh well, gotta keep going.
Within five miles I realized I was grinding my jaw. Within ten miles I realized I couldn't ride up hills. It began to really hurt then; like a knife sawing at the back of my ankle every time I powered with my right leg. Everything became strange for a while, I had a slight tailwind but couldn't go more than 10 mph. I stopped and got off with a queasy sensation. Not from physical pain but from the realization that I had to pull the plug. I was ten miles east of Clarinda and ten miles west of Bedford. I decided to head east and pull the plug in Bedford.
I tried to call out but I had no cell coverage. Without the link I had to deal with this alone. I grew alot in those few hours. I thought, "I might be pulling the plug but there was no way I'm going to walk my bike." Bullheadedness piercing the hull of reason.
There was no way to get out of Bedford by the usual modes. Even AAA turned me down because they only tow 'motor vehicles.' I can't blame them but I do. Two options; hitchhike east or hitchhike west. East made the most sense.
The second pickup stopped when I thumbed him. He was the Taylor Country Game Warden. He called police dispatch and within minutes a local cop was running my license and arranging for a Sheriff to give me a lift to the county line. Bags off, wheels off, bike in the trunk and away we went.
We got to the county line and he let me use his phone to get details on buses and trains in the area. He got on the radio and called for the Sheriff of the next county to come ferry me further east. I sat at the intersection of Hwy 2 and 25 on the Taylor and Ringgold County line for over two hours. I was about to start hitchhiking again when a farmer came by and offer me to use his phone, mine had no reception all day. Dispatch told me to hang tight. I sat for another hour and a half.
The Ringgold County Chief Deputy picked me up at 5:15. He drove me to the Decatur County line where we met another sheriff. He drove me to Lamoni and dropped me at the Livestock Auction where a bus drops off and picks up. There were no signs to indicate this was a stop, it was a mysterious depot spot.
At 10:30 the bus came right on time and I put the bike and bags underneath. A few stops and an hour later we were in Des Moines. I paid fare and freight for the bike to Chicago. The bus left at midnight. We stopped in Iowa City for a half hour then on to Chicago.
The bus was full of Hispanics, Asians and a few elderly women. Everyone on the bus was well dressed and groomed. Then there was Drew; worn out clothes and scraggly beard. If there was a suspicious character on the bus it was certainly me.
We arrived in downtown Chicago at 6:45 this morning. I slept maybe two hours last night. I was the third person off the bus and my bike was already pulled out, tossed on its side and my bags tossed on top of it. Furious, I took three big steps and pushed the baggage handler away from the bike as he was yanking on a bag that was stuck between the chain and the gears. "You're messing my bike up!" He didn't care, he went back to heaving bags onto the asphalt.
The bike seemed OK aside from a broken rear fender. I cooled off and went inside. Information told me where to catch the Metra. I rode the bike a few blocks to the station, bought a ticket, found eggs and toast and waited. I left Chicago at 9am.
Matt picked me up at 10am at the station near his office. After a great big hug at his office he handed me the keys and a few hours later I'm here writing this. I'll go pick him up at 5pm.
Since I've been sitting here writing, my ankle has stiffened up. It squeaks now every time I move my foot up and down.
Achilles in Greek mythology was a great warrior. Arrows and spears bounced off his chest in battle. As a baby, his immortal mother took him by the ankle and dipped him in either fire or water to make him immortal as well. The only part that wasn't dipped was his ankle and it was his only weak spot. He was eventually killed when an arrow pierced his ankle. This is not a comparison, just a bit of lure that I thought I would refresh you on because I was interested myself.
I'll write the complete story from Fort Collins to Clarinda either tonight or tomorrow. I'll let you know what the doctor thinks also.
-Drew
I arrived here from Fort Collins via various modes of transportation. About half the miles were on my bike, the other half were on my butt. I have some problem with my right Achilles tendon. It's swollen, tender and feels as though it's squeaking when I extend my foot and bring it back again. I have an appointment with a sports medicine doc tomorrow, with the assurance that if I need an MRI they can fit that in tomorrow as well.
Monday night I rolled into Clarinda, Iowa. The fog was condensing and the gray soup in the air grew darker. I found a motel on the edge of town. My gear came out of the panniers, then out of the plastic bags and soon the motel room was littered with the debris of a fully loaded cycling odyssey. The window unit inflated the cramped room with hot air and I cracked the window to let out the smell and dampness of drying gear.
A lonely motel room in a small town. My phone, my friend, my link. Slurping hastily made mac n' cheese I called my Grandfather in New Jersey to chat. Customary pleasantries followed by a quick synopsis. I'm here, the weather is crap, and yes I think the hotel clerk will return my clothes after he washes them.
Down to brass tacks. "My ankle is bothering me, it's the strangest thing. It hurts a little to ride up hills but I'm icing it and it should be fine." I think he must have heard something I wasn't saying. Maybe the words I used, the cadence of my speech, the tone at the end of the sentences... He heard me say, "My ankle hurts like hell and I can't walk or ride the bike very well, but I'm gonna keep riding to New Jersey no matter how bad it hurts or how bad the weather gets." His wisdom must have deduced that I was going to ride my bike until my legs fell off or I froze out there.
"You know Andy, nobody in the world has more respect for you than I do. I have to let you know that I would have even more respect if you stopped riding because you're in danger. You have a long life to live and you wouldn't want to injure yourself over this. You've come a long way already."
At face value you could misconstrue this as an encouragement to give up. Don't be fooled. He was saying the unspoken that many of you have wanted to say but can't, don't or won't say for a million reasons. "We want to see you get to New Jersey, but we don't want to see you sacrifice yourself in the process."
I went to bed after talking to Tracey on her birthday. I iced my ankle all night and lathered on topical ibuprophen/lidocaine. I woke up and it hadn't changed. Oh well, gotta keep going.
Within five miles I realized I was grinding my jaw. Within ten miles I realized I couldn't ride up hills. It began to really hurt then; like a knife sawing at the back of my ankle every time I powered with my right leg. Everything became strange for a while, I had a slight tailwind but couldn't go more than 10 mph. I stopped and got off with a queasy sensation. Not from physical pain but from the realization that I had to pull the plug. I was ten miles east of Clarinda and ten miles west of Bedford. I decided to head east and pull the plug in Bedford.
I tried to call out but I had no cell coverage. Without the link I had to deal with this alone. I grew alot in those few hours. I thought, "I might be pulling the plug but there was no way I'm going to walk my bike." Bullheadedness piercing the hull of reason.
There was no way to get out of Bedford by the usual modes. Even AAA turned me down because they only tow 'motor vehicles.' I can't blame them but I do. Two options; hitchhike east or hitchhike west. East made the most sense.
The second pickup stopped when I thumbed him. He was the Taylor Country Game Warden. He called police dispatch and within minutes a local cop was running my license and arranging for a Sheriff to give me a lift to the county line. Bags off, wheels off, bike in the trunk and away we went.
We got to the county line and he let me use his phone to get details on buses and trains in the area. He got on the radio and called for the Sheriff of the next county to come ferry me further east. I sat at the intersection of Hwy 2 and 25 on the Taylor and Ringgold County line for over two hours. I was about to start hitchhiking again when a farmer came by and offer me to use his phone, mine had no reception all day. Dispatch told me to hang tight. I sat for another hour and a half.
The Ringgold County Chief Deputy picked me up at 5:15. He drove me to the Decatur County line where we met another sheriff. He drove me to Lamoni and dropped me at the Livestock Auction where a bus drops off and picks up. There were no signs to indicate this was a stop, it was a mysterious depot spot.
At 10:30 the bus came right on time and I put the bike and bags underneath. A few stops and an hour later we were in Des Moines. I paid fare and freight for the bike to Chicago. The bus left at midnight. We stopped in Iowa City for a half hour then on to Chicago.
The bus was full of Hispanics, Asians and a few elderly women. Everyone on the bus was well dressed and groomed. Then there was Drew; worn out clothes and scraggly beard. If there was a suspicious character on the bus it was certainly me.
We arrived in downtown Chicago at 6:45 this morning. I slept maybe two hours last night. I was the third person off the bus and my bike was already pulled out, tossed on its side and my bags tossed on top of it. Furious, I took three big steps and pushed the baggage handler away from the bike as he was yanking on a bag that was stuck between the chain and the gears. "You're messing my bike up!" He didn't care, he went back to heaving bags onto the asphalt.
The bike seemed OK aside from a broken rear fender. I cooled off and went inside. Information told me where to catch the Metra. I rode the bike a few blocks to the station, bought a ticket, found eggs and toast and waited. I left Chicago at 9am.
Matt picked me up at 10am at the station near his office. After a great big hug at his office he handed me the keys and a few hours later I'm here writing this. I'll go pick him up at 5pm.
Since I've been sitting here writing, my ankle has stiffened up. It squeaks now every time I move my foot up and down.
Achilles in Greek mythology was a great warrior. Arrows and spears bounced off his chest in battle. As a baby, his immortal mother took him by the ankle and dipped him in either fire or water to make him immortal as well. The only part that wasn't dipped was his ankle and it was his only weak spot. He was eventually killed when an arrow pierced his ankle. This is not a comparison, just a bit of lure that I thought I would refresh you on because I was interested myself.
I'll write the complete story from Fort Collins to Clarinda either tonight or tomorrow. I'll let you know what the doctor thinks also.
-Drew
Monday, October 16, 2006
Andrew's Update
Hello All,
My name is Chris Schauffele, one on Andrews’s good friends. I spoke with him this morning and he asked me to post an update of his adventure.
Today (10-16-2006) he has arrived in Iowa, after riding through Nebraska at nearly warp speed! While in Nebraska he had achieved his biggest mileage day thus far, riding 104 miles in one day! He has peddled about 550 miles since leaving Fort Collins, CO.
Andrew told me that dampness and sogginess have been plaguing him on this leg of the trip. He left Fort Collins, CO in nearly freezing rain conditions, and since then has experienced bouts of light rain and fog. And when the sun does shine on him he sweats, while he rides. Then come night time, when he lays down to sleep, he sweats in his sleeping bag. It sounds like a never-ending cycle (bad pun).
All in all I think he is really enjoying himself. Discovering what he is really made of while enduring hardships on the road, and realizing through everyone’s comments, emails, and support the amount of awareness he has generated for his cause.
Ride on Andrew!
My name is Chris Schauffele, one on Andrews’s good friends. I spoke with him this morning and he asked me to post an update of his adventure.
Today (10-16-2006) he has arrived in Iowa, after riding through Nebraska at nearly warp speed! While in Nebraska he had achieved his biggest mileage day thus far, riding 104 miles in one day! He has peddled about 550 miles since leaving Fort Collins, CO.
Andrew told me that dampness and sogginess have been plaguing him on this leg of the trip. He left Fort Collins, CO in nearly freezing rain conditions, and since then has experienced bouts of light rain and fog. And when the sun does shine on him he sweats, while he rides. Then come night time, when he lays down to sleep, he sweats in his sleeping bag. It sounds like a never-ending cycle (bad pun).
All in all I think he is really enjoying himself. Discovering what he is really made of while enduring hardships on the road, and realizing through everyone’s comments, emails, and support the amount of awareness he has generated for his cause.
Ride on Andrew!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Andrew as Geography Teacher
Hi All,Andrew asked me to tell you how we're using his blog in his old hometown of Freehold, NJ. As a school librarian who is also teaching a computer class, I thought Andrew's travels would make a great geography/technology project. So - my 7th graders are following his route on their individual state maps as well as outlining it on a large wall map that hangs in the computer lab. In addition, they are learning to use Excel by entering his miles and mphs on a spreadsheet. At the end of his journey, they will graph these statistics. An added bonus for our students has been the opportunity to experience some great writing!! We look forward to his safe arrival in NJ and hopefully a visit to our class!! Thanks, Andrew for giving so many "lessons" to all who read your blog. C.G.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Distracted
I spoke to Pat, Tracey's mom, on Friday. Mentioned that I was staying an extra day. Pushing it back so the total is four days in Denver/Ft. Collins. Her response, "Good. You earned it!"
What a nice thing to say.
I've been worried about taking this time off; feeling self discipline mock me for not being out there. Tracey has encouraged me to take more time to enjoy
So on Wednesday I sat around on the computer. That took most of the day. Afternoon saw Chris and I at REI. I exchanged all my leaking water bottles and had them look at the stove. They ran it on white gas, which typically burns better than gasoline. Regardless of the cleaner fuel, the stove wasn't top form. The simple answer is there is something wrong with the stove. They exchanged it for a brand new stove and will deal with the manufacturer for me.
Dropped the bike off at the REI bicycle shop as well.
Around town running errands, getting maps at the AAA office. Steaks and potatoes for dinner then up to
We stayed Wednesday night in
Outta Boulder. Chris dropped me at REI and I met George Betz, the bike shop manager. He was just putting the rear wheel on after changing the freewheel hub. There was a phantom clicking that couldn't be identified so they replaced the part. It was a simple but uncommon part for a small bike shop to carry. If it developed into a bigger problem along the way my only option would likely have been to get a whole new wheel. Nip that one in the bud and save a few hundred dollars.
I got lost in
I transferred a bunch of music to my MP3 player. I made Thai curry with tofu and fresh veggies for dinner. It was the first time I'd made a curry from scratch and was surprised how well it turned out. So were Chris and Kelli.
Friday morning I went with Chris to the Colorado School of Mine in Golden. He went to class while I poked around the library, printing up the bike maps for
When he was done with class we went to the hardware store; bought a pick-mattock and a shovel. We drove out to Idaho Springs and drove up a canyon to some old mines. A few hours of scrambling around digging through mine tailing piles. We found some gold flakes adhered to a quartz vein but no crystals or interesting minerals.
We drove to another site and were given permission to root through waste rock piles. There we found pyrite with galena on soft orange mine waste. It was fun to be up in the mountains with my friend, digging through rocks rather than climbing them. Chris and I had been rock and ice climbing together for seven years until I moved to
Back into
Chris De Houst also drove down from
Saturday morning, Chris De Houst and I got caught up on the past few years. He left Rutgers and spent a year in 
After breakfast Chris, Kelli and I headed to Golden. We hiked up
Back into 
Amy and I talked for hours by the small fire in the backyard. It was really therapeutic for me to fill her in on what Tracey and I had done for the past year in
I hadn't realized why I was so impacted when my grandmother died. The bonds we built while living with her and my grandfather sank deep roots into my soul. I didn't know my grandparents very well as a kid. I grew up in
I felt a huge amount of guilt about moving out of their house. They really relished our company and help in keeping the house clean, the gardens tidy. I felt we had abandoned them. Then my grandmother's pancreatic cancer became virulent. She was diagnosed with Type II diabetes. She lost weight rapidly. If we stayed at the house, would the psychological buttress of our presence helped to ward those things off? Slow roasted mental anguish.
In mid-April her oncologist gave her two weeks to live. Her liver was failing. She became jaundiced. Yellowish-green skin covered her body and her cheeks sunk as if she was always sucking a straw. She looked exactly the same as Brian did when I visited him in his state of liver failure right before he died.
Two weeks after the diagnosis I sat with her until one or two in the morning while my aunt and uncle rested in the other bedrooms in the house. I gave her a dose of morphine at the appropriate time. I held the water to her lips and she feebly sucked in. She mumbled something about, "Take mit away." "It's OK grandma, I love you, it will go away." I wasn't sure what she wanted to be taken away, but with cold hands and shallow irregular breathing I knew everything would be taken away soon.
I went home but couldn't sleep. I was back at the house at 8am. She passed away a few minutes later. I was with her all the way out to the hearse.
Two months earlier Tracey and I had flown back to
Brian,
A couple weeks after Grandma died my friend and mentor, Dan Harrington from work, got word from his oncologist. A couple months left with his cancer. He retired and cashed in his retirement fund.
I became depressed. I thought some pretty dark things for a while. Death. Cancer. Wallowing in
This trip is more than a fundraiser. It's more than helping society and memorializing incredible people. I needed this trip to get my own life in order. I needed purpose and direction. The distraction of people and a reason to contact them. Those interactions siphoned off the negatives and softened the experiences of death. Backfilling the space was crucial.
Until now, I hadn't acknowledged that I needed this trip for my own mental health. I don't think I realized how important it was for me to deal with death. Talking with Amy last night by the fire I began to understand. Hearing myself list the chain of events shown a bright light of understanding and for a moment it became clear.
I experienced death on an intense personal scale. I was adrift and this trip gave me the direction and intensity I needed.
Today is dreary the way a grey damp day can be. I'm tired. Four late nights of talking and enjoying the company of others. I'm going to sleep here in Ft. Collins to
day. I'm going to relax to
the sound of Amy and Mike's banjos in the other room. They're sitting there singing bluegrass songs, laughing and chatting in between while I write this.
You all said I would learn a lot about myself out here. What I didn't expect is that epiphanies come not when I'm alone on the road, but when I digest my thoughts in the company of others. I'm wide open right now. I'm looking forward to reflecting on these days in
Lots of love,
Andrew
Friday, October 06, 2006
Direction
A note on fundraising:
I've recieved many donations from people along the way. A number of the folks I've met have followed up with an online donation. Being an effective spokesman is an awesome feeling.
Total funds raised = $13,440.
That's 54% of my $25,000 goal!
I want to reiterate that the funds go directly to the American Cancer Society. None of the money supports expenses for my trip. Local businesses in Eugene donated food and materials to reduce the upfront cost.
If you donate online (here) you will get a confirmation directly from the Cancer Society. A;so, I encourage you to check that site once in a while and see the names of folks who have donated.
For those that wish to follow me on a map, here's my route to Illinois:
East out of Ft. Collins to Sterling, CO. Into Nebraska at Venango on Hwy 23
Nebraska:
East on Hwy 23 to Holdrege. East on Hwy 6 to Dorchester. East on 33 for a bit to local roads then north to Hwy 2 at Bennet. Exit State at Nebraska City.
Iowa:
East on Hwy 2. East on Hwy2. East on Hwy 2. This is not a typo. At Bloomfield pick up J40 into Fort Madison. Exit State at Fort Madison.
Illinois:
Enter the State at Niota. Local roads stair-step to Hwy 116. Hwy 116 east to Farminton, then north on Hwy 78 to Laura, then east on Hwy 90 to Edelstein. North on Hwy 40 to Hwy 17. East on Hwy 17 to Kankanee.
Through Indiana and Ohio I have maps back at home that Tracey will send me.
Pennsylvania:
Hwy 16 east to Scranton then a bunch of random State and local roads to the Delaware Water Gap. Still don't have a clue how I'm going to get across Jersey. If any Jersey bikers have ideas, let me know.
I haven't spoken with my brother about where we're going to meet up. The plan, though, is that he'll drive down to pick me up somewhere along Hwy 17 in Illinois. We'll drive up to his house north of Chicago for a day or two, then he'll drive me back down to the pickup spot. This way there's no break in the continuity.
I can't believe there are 12 comments on the last post - it's only been up 24 hours!
The writing was a little sloppy. If I turn this into a book it will be more fluid when edited.
I've recieved many donations from people along the way. A number of the folks I've met have followed up with an online donation. Being an effective spokesman is an awesome feeling.
Total funds raised = $13,440.
That's 54% of my $25,000 goal!
I want to reiterate that the funds go directly to the American Cancer Society. None of the money supports expenses for my trip. Local businesses in Eugene donated food and materials to reduce the upfront cost.
If you donate online (here) you will get a confirmation directly from the Cancer Society. A;so, I encourage you to check that site once in a while and see the names of folks who have donated.
For those that wish to follow me on a map, here's my route to Illinois:
East out of Ft. Collins to Sterling, CO. Into Nebraska at Venango on Hwy 23
Nebraska:
East on Hwy 23 to Holdrege. East on Hwy 6 to Dorchester. East on 33 for a bit to local roads then north to Hwy 2 at Bennet. Exit State at Nebraska City.
Iowa:
East on Hwy 2. East on Hwy2. East on Hwy 2. This is not a typo. At Bloomfield pick up J40 into Fort Madison. Exit State at Fort Madison.
Illinois:
Enter the State at Niota. Local roads stair-step to Hwy 116. Hwy 116 east to Farminton, then north on Hwy 78 to Laura, then east on Hwy 90 to Edelstein. North on Hwy 40 to Hwy 17. East on Hwy 17 to Kankanee.
Through Indiana and Ohio I have maps back at home that Tracey will send me.
Pennsylvania:
Hwy 16 east to Scranton then a bunch of random State and local roads to the Delaware Water Gap. Still don't have a clue how I'm going to get across Jersey. If any Jersey bikers have ideas, let me know.
I haven't spoken with my brother about where we're going to meet up. The plan, though, is that he'll drive down to pick me up somewhere along Hwy 17 in Illinois. We'll drive up to his house north of Chicago for a day or two, then he'll drive me back down to the pickup spot. This way there's no break in the continuity.
I can't believe there are 12 comments on the last post - it's only been up 24 hours!
The writing was a little sloppy. If I turn this into a book it will be more fluid when edited.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Great Divide
I'm here! Sorry to keep you all waiting. Comments wondering where I am and people asking Tracey to urge me to update. I haven't seen a computer until today so here goes:
I'm in Denver! Through the Rockies and on the edge of the plains. I'm so psyched. Really healthy, great spirits, feeling strong.
I'll be in Denver for a few days getting some rest and hanging with my friends Chris and Kelli. Looking forward to hooking up with other friends in the area while I'm here.
The weather last week was phenomenal. If I had left a week earlier I would have been riding through 10-12 inches of snow. Most of Wyoming was blanketed the week before I rode through. Your prayers are paying off and my good fortune has held strong.
I feel as if this week has been a turning point in this trip. I have become used to the travelling and the constant shuffle. My health is great and I'm excited for the next phase of this trip.
The wind in Wyoming is no joke. Almost eve
ryday it was gusting up to 25 mph with steady 10-15 breezes coming out of the southwest. I followed the Oregon Trail through much of the State and saw some of the landmarks that I've been enchanted by since boyhood.Met some awesome people too. I only had to cook dinner a few times because people either paid for my meals or asked me to join them in their own dinners.
Chronologically:
9/26, Kemmerer, WY. Rest day and the site of my last update. Lester and Kay Fatheree took me out to dinner in Kimmer and Lester spoke to me about Jesus and fellowship. They're a dedicated couple. Lester's biggest compliments are along the lines of, "Gee, you're not like any other Pastor I've ever met." I had a great time with them. Kay wrote an article on me for their local paper and is sending a copy to Tracey; should be cool to read it when I'm done.
Wednesday, 9/27:
Left Kimmer heading east. Rode through the Western Wyoming oil fields past a huge Exxon refinery. There are miles of new pipeline being installed in the desert out there. Hundreds of trucks hauling 36" pipe and crews scattered in the distance. It's amazing to see an oil field and I now know why it's so imperative to keep our Alaskan wilderness intact. An oil field isn't just a couple holes punched in the ground with pipes running to a collection facility. There are literally hundreds and hundreds of tanks scattered as far as the eye can see spaced 1/4 mile apart. Roads cris-cross the terrain and pumping stations pop up over every hill it seems.
The Exxon refinery produces something like 3/4 of the U.S. hydrogen. It looks the same as one of the refiners you'd see near Newark, NJ along the Turnpike. The big difference is that it is out in the high desert. It looked so out of place amidst the terrain that pioneers once drove wagons through. It's hard to accept when you see it but logically you know it supports our economy and bolsters the happy easy life we live in the U.S. I encourage you to do your own research and make your own judgments on this stuff. In a way, having it out in the high desert isn't such a bad place because the land is a barren place. I hope that doesn't negate the need to be good stewards of the environment.
The biking:
Tail winds most of the time. I saw some Oregon Trail ruts and stopped at all the 'Point(s) of Interest'. Learned about death on the trail. Imagine leaving a dead child or spouse buried in a shallow grave beside a trail, never to be able to visit them as you mourn in the aftermath. You had to keep going or you would surely perish there as well. It's dry and hot in the sun. It must have been brutal on the livestock and the oxen pulling the wagons.
I arrived in Farson, WY at about 4pm and camped in an RV lot. There was an ice cream store that I couldn't resist. After I chowed down I was leaving and grabbed my handlebars. I felt a prink and reached down to pull out a yellow-jacket stinger. I put ice on it later and the swelling went down.
The earplugs were crucial because the truck traffic servicing the oil boom was constant throughout the night. I also discovered that my leaking water bladder had defied my attempts to repair it. The slee
ping bag was wet when I got there and I dried it in the windy sunshine. I doped it up with Superglue but it wouldn't hold.Daily: 75 miles at 15.2 mph avg.
Thursday, 9/28:
I bought a tall, skinny Gatorade bottle that fits in the bottle holder on the bike. From here on I used one water bottle with water and the other with Gatorade. I would stop every other hour and refill the bottles, mixing Gatorade powder into one of them. As I rode I took a swig from each and did pretty well staying hydrated. Still it was a pain not to have that 1/2-gallon bladder.
From Farson I could see the Wind River Mountains. I rode east on Hwy 28 and the mountains slowly got closer as I ascended. One big hill at South Pass and next thing I knew there was a sign for the Continental Divide. 7550 feet! I screamed and yelled, giddy with excitement. Totally not expecting to see that sign at the top of the hill. I really hoped that someone would stop to take a picture of the crazy lunatic with the bike that was dancing around on the side of the road near the sign for the Divide. No one did, so I took one of myself. I was soooooo so happy.
Rolling hills at 7500 feet until I reached the pull-off for South Pass City. Two miles of packed dirt road led me to the historic mining town that was the first place in the country to give women equal voting rights. If you travel this way, be sure to take the time and visit the historic town, it's really cool.
The food box was waiting for me there. I had Tracey send it to South Pass because I thought it made sense to pick up the 20 pounds of food after I had climbed up there, rather than hauling it up myself. Thank you US Postal Service!
I rode over to Atlantic City, which is nothing like the one on the Jersey Shore. This is another old gold mining town. Many people still own claims and gold is still be panned out of the stream. The history is typical boom/bust cycle with iron ore the most recent commodity. Lots of history here as well, so if you head to South Pass ride the extra few miles over to see Atlantic City as well.
Plus the scenery is beautiful. Rolling hills with aspen trees lining the bottoms of the draws and spruce trees dotting the hillsides. It's fall weather up there now, so the aspens were yellow and orange. Potpourri of decaying leaves and evergreens in the cool piercing light of sunset.
I camped at a BLM campground at 8000 feet. The camp host told me the week before there had been 12 inches of snow on the ground.
Daily, 53 miles at 11.8 mph avg. Continental Divide!
Friday, 9/29:
No frost overnight, very happy about that. Wasn't cold at night, even happier. Oatmeal, filled water and was out.
The night at 8000 feet had acclimatized me well and the riding, though hilly wasn't too difficult. I began to feel very strong this day.
Red Canyon appeared on my left as I coasted downhill. It's a beautiful rift of red sandstone similar to what you'd see in Utah. 6% downhill grade I was flying at 48 mph but had to slow down because a big truck was riding his brakes. I could have gone faster and really wanted to but there was no way I was going to pass the truck on a downgrade.
Just shy of Lander I turned right on Hwy 287/789. A big uphill - 6% grade for five miles. Though I felt strong, it really took alot out of me and I rested for a long time at the top. These hills were a reverse of what I wanted; a big climb followed by the reward of a big drop, oh well.
I saw a badger on the side of the road. It came into the shoulder, saw me, flipped around ran back to the sagebrush and turned to glare at me. It was a beautiful animal but definitely had that, "don't mess with me," look.
Luckily, I had a tailwind that helped me for 35 more miles into Jeffery City. This is another boom/bust town. Between '77 and '83 there were as many as 2000 people living here working in the uranium mines. I guess our nuclear power was firmly established and the mines closed down. Now there are probably 20 people eking out a living in the modern ghost town.
In town met Roger and Scott Miller who had been fishing all day. They invited me to camp with them at the abandoned Lion's Club and they fed me all the rainbow trout I could eat with potatoes and beans. We had a nice evening talking in the sand outside their Winnebago. They live in Cheyenne and came up to fish and hunt elk.
Daily, 70.5 miles, 12.8 mph avg, 48 mph top speed!
Saturday, 9/30:
Southwest on Hwy 287. The wind started out of the southwest and I fought across it for most of the morning. Made it to Muddy Gap, "the cleanest bathroom in Wyoming." The owner is a really nice guy, stop and buy a snack if you go through.
Turned northeast on Hwy 220 and got pushed along to Independence Rock. This was a highlight. The rock isn't spectacular in any way except that it was a waypoint to mark time and passage. If they got here by July 4th (Independence Day) they knew they were on
track to get to Oregon before the snows. There are tons of names etched into the rock but erosion and vandalism have removed most of the names prior to 1920. I hiked to the top and sat for a while soaking up the sun and the wind.Another 20 miles and a swift downhill into Alcova, WY. It was a Saturday evening and the campsite was teaming with fishermen. I met some really nice people and hung out with Matt, Andrew and Brian from Boulder, CO.
Daily, 79 miles, 14.2 mph avg.
Sunday, October 1:
Oatmeal and packed up, on the road a little late at 8:30. I turned right on Hwy 487. The southwest wind was fierce this first day of October. I stopped every 10 miles to rest and eat. One big uphill but the road had taken an easterly turn and the wind was at my back for a short time, helping.
I rode into the Shirley Basin heading south. This was the hardest part of the trip through Wyoming. The wind was coming into my face at 20 mph with monstrous gusts. It didn't take long to personify it into a living thing that was purposefully tormenting me. I bared my teeth into it. I hunched down away from it when it struck in a blast. I even screamed into it in frustration. It was eroding my psyche. I stopped for a long while and talked to myself. "You can't control this. Just get on and take your time, any progress is still progress." Tunes would help so I changed disks and turned up the volume to full. Pearl Jam and Pink Floyd with Crosby and Stills thrown in.
The wind was sucking the water out of me and I had 30 miles to go before I hit a town. A truck pulling a boat stopped and it happened to be Jeff from Fort Collins, who I'd met at the campsite in Alcova. He hooked me up with enough water to get me through and encouraged me that the wind would settle down as evening set in.
I pounded water and struck out in a fast spin. The wind didn't die much but I was energized to push through. Every time I needed to stop I would look at the odometer and ride until it came to an even mile number...pushing myself to get one more tenth in for that burn.
The clouds had set in but the sun was slicing through from the west and the landscape was on fire. One short downhill coast at mile 75 with only 8 miles to get to town. This picture was taken at about mile 78 or so, the light was perfect.
I rolled into Medicine Bow with my jaw hanging slack thinking of nothing but cheeseburgers and fries and baked potatoes with gravy and sour cream and pie and chocolate milk. I hit Hwy 287 and turned left to the Virginian Hotel. I staggered in and must have look trashed. It was 7 o'clock at night and dark had started to close in outside.
The cook for the evening, Valerie Cowen was so impressed by my effort that she paid for my dinner - double bacon cheeseburger dripping with ketchup and mayo, three rounds at the salad bar, two glasses of chocolate milk and a baked potato smothered in gravy and sour cream. Fat and happy, coma setting in.
The rooms at the Virginian were only $27 and I really couldn't think of heading out into the cold wind to set up camp on the edge of town. I paid, took a long hot bath and slept like a rock.
Daily, 83.5 miles 11.1 mph avg.
Monday, 10/2:
I slept in. Got up late, ate pancakes, eggs, toast, sausages and coffee. I got a chance to look around the Virginian Hotel. It was built in 1910 and is the kind of place you expect to see Wild Bill Hickok slammin' shots of rye whisky. It conjures thoughts of six shooters tied low and the jingle of spurs, the clomp of cowboy boots. The bathrooms have only old bathtubs and they are located along the hallway, not in the rooms themselves.
I lugged the bike down the stairs wearing my spandex and must have been a sight for the other lodgers. I hit the road at 10 am.
It was an unremarkable day for the most part. Though I did stop in Rock River and overheard the war stories of the first day of elk season. The day before, dudes were driving around with rifles on the seats of their pickups while I was snarling at a wind that didn't know me from a fence post. It was good hunt.
I came into Laramie, Wyoming around 4 pm. Traffic again. I hadn't seen a stop light in a week. I craved fast food and I knew this town was big enough to have some. Sure enough, near the University of Wyoming there is a strip on Grant St. where you can get any kind of American heart attack special you're looking for. I sat in Taco Bell writing post cards and waited for a call from a friend.
Kristen and Grant live in Laramie and were happy to let me stay with them. They are friends through another friend and are very down to earth people. We got along immediately. Kristen works with special ed. kids in high school and gets to go to immersion classes with them. I think it would be cool in a way to go back to high school classes as an adult just to see what it's like. Maybe I could retain some of the stuff now that I'm older! :)
Grant is a geologist working for an environmental firm. We talked shop on ground water flow, drilling test wells and taking soil samples. He made stuffed chicken breasts using Stove-Top and it was delicious.
It turns out that I broke a spoke on the ride over to their house. After dinner I took the rear wheel apart and changed out the spoke, put the tire on and trued the wheel back to straight.
Daily, 60 miles, 14 mph avg.
Tuesday, 10/3:
Rain overnight, I was glad to have spent the night indoors. The rear wheel had a flat. I hadn't had a flat the entire trip until this point. The night before I knew that when I broke the seal between the tube and the tire that any punctures would turn up...and one did. I changed it out and left town at 8am.
Cold wind in my face for the morning but it didn't bother me - I was on my way out of the Rockies and about to get a few days rest. I crested a long climb south of Tie Siding on Hwy 287. Colorado opened up before my eyes and sped downhill at 47 mph!
I had more energy this day than ever before. It was combination of knowing I was going to see some friends, getting into a new state and looking forward to time off from biking. The miles sailed by as I coasted from Laramie's elevation of 7000 feet to Fort Collins at 5000 feet. I was almost sprinting as I hit the flats on the western edge of town.
I arrived at Amy and Mike's house in Fort Collins at 2pm, having rode 66 miles at 15.6 mph average.
Oh friends. Good people I knew, familiar faces and warm embraces. My friend Chris drove up from Denver wearing a huge grin.
So I'm here in downtown Denver in Chris and Kelli's apartment. I made it! One third of the way with the Rockies under my belt. I'm at the lowest elevation I've been at in two weeks. I can't even do justice to the elation I feel right now.
It's strange too being here in Denver because I've been here before but have always driven or flown in. I JUST RODE MY BIKE FROM THE PACIFIC OCEAN TO DENVER!!!!!!! It feels good.
So I'm on my way to drop the bike off at REI to get a tune up. The rear wheel tread is getting thin so I'll rotate the tires. I need another spare spoke to replace the one I used the other day and a new tube. I also need a new water bladder and a water bottle holder (one broke the first week).
I'll be here until Friday. I plan to leave from Fort Collins on Saturday morning on Hwy 14 and head east toward Nebraska. On the plains. New terrain.
From here I head toward Chicago to visit my brother, his girlfriend and my nephew.
I hope to get the route together and post it online so you can follow me on a map.
The comments this time were awesome! Thanks everyone. If you don't want to log in and make an account to comment, just make your comment and put your name at the end, then send it in as 'anonymous'.
Lots of love,
Andrew
