Yearly Archives: 2015

…or more honestly, Late and of Average Quality!

super cycle scoot. dreamy, baby, dreamy.

the hills are for reals.

Woops, so, maybe it’s been awhile since our last post. Turns out, the hustle and bustle of the big cities is equally exhausting as the sprawling mountainous region we currently find ourselves winding through. Also, turns out, there’s not often wifi to be found in such hill country. Also, also, turns out, I’m making excuses, so let’s just hop into this.

Hum, let’s see… two weeks ago… the scene is this: Edison, NJ… behind a Wal-Mart, as per usual. We crawl out of our sleeping quarters, Stink in her hammock slackly slung between two decorative landscape trees, and I, sprawled out on the ground sleeping with the beetles and worms. Incidentally I found a tick taking a long refreshing draught of my bloods later that morning. Rude.

We rolled over to the gas station nearby to relieve the building pressure in our bladders, then scooted off in search of a McDonald’s for coffee (sweet, precious, awakening, delicious…ish, hot coffee). We ending up having selfies taken with us by numerous members of the McDonald’s staff there. It was quite a feat to capture both us Amazonian ladies, our overloaded cycles, and a fellow person in one shot, but I believe it was managed. (No photographic proof here, as we weren’t the ones selfie-ing)

rando photo intermission…

That day we loiter-hopped our miles. Once finished lounging about at one McDonald’s, we rolled on till some other loiterable location caught our eyes. We stopped at a Super H-Mart (which for those who are unfamiliar, is a megastore of Asian foods and goods). We were hoping to capitalize on some cheap bao opportunities (unsuccessful), and I continued my eternal search for the perfect cell-phone-dangley-jinglebell-useless-accessory (also unsuccessful). One must have goals to work towards, you see.

a fine example of the useless garbage I’m after

Anyways, Stink got some spicy tamarind candies and kept trying to force them upon me. They were… unique. We also sampled, and re-sampled, multiple types of asian crispy chippy popped snack type things that were scattered throughout the store. Turns out, Korean style popcorn gets two big thumbs up.

We finally left, and scooted on till the next opportunity to sit around and waste time, in the form of an Aldi’s grocery store. Now, I had never really been to an Aldi’s before this trip, and didn’t know what to expect on my first expedition. What I found was winding aisles of inexpensive offbrand foods, and the most speediest, efficiency-driven cashiers this gal has ever seen. No small talk, no bagging, and no patience for time wasters. Oh well, you get what you pay for.

Outside, we sat around munching our cheap snacks (apples, salsa chips, perhaps a boxed pie) and started chatting with folks. To my shock/fear/displeasure, one lady asked if we were mother and daughter… What????? Noooo. Why??

After that unfortunate incident, it started pouring, inciting us to rush over to a McDonald’s a block away to resume snacking in shelter. As we pulled into the parking lot, Stink found that one of her tires had gone flat, so we found to offender (a tricksy double-holer near a seam on the tube) and attempted to patch. This particular location/double-hole situation isn’t always able to be fixed, so when we went out to continue riding after our short loiter, the reemergent flat wasn’t too shocking. Stink pulled out a spare tube, patched it up (it had already seen service), popped it onto the wheel, and away we went!

garbage pail kid

That night we camped out behind a church in Fairless Hills, PA. There was a large empty dumpster out in parking lot that Stink slung her hammock into, while I sat out on a bench, let Beef around, and read Tom Sawyer on my tablet till I about passed out.

On a somewhat more personal note, these past few days had been a bit exhausting mentally/emotionally. Stink and I are great friends, and alike in many ways, but we are also very different. We had had a tough discussion during this time, about differing views we hold, and that can really test a friendship. It takes a certain amount of stubbornness and respect to be able to acknowledge differences, while retaining individuality, and remain friends. Spending 24/7 with someone for months on end, no matter how close you are, can be stressful, but us two goobs care enough to make it work.

this here is my pal Stink.

Okay, all seriousness over, let’s get back to what always ends up being a recounting of foods eaten, places loitered at, and unusual and likely illegal campsites:

In the morning, we rolled to a Dunkin’ Donuts, not to buy any donuts, mind you, but just to take advantage of bathroom facilities… and perhaps get an overpriced average-tasting cup of coffee. The east has this weird fascination with Dunkin’ Donuts, and we see them everywhere we go, but I don’t understand it. Maybe I’m just feeling left out because their bagels cost a million dollars and their neat rows of donuts on display look delicious and tempting… I don’t like it.

hot. little excitement for a little and unexciting sign.

We rode into Delaware that day; a horrible hot industrial awful part of Delaware, that I don’t even remember much about, but that some areas were so nauseous smelling that I opted to cover my mouth and nose with my ever-present bandana as a makeshift clean breathing apparatus.

We finished that day by making it to a park in New Castle and sitting on a bench for a much needed rest, and chatting with the locals. We were somewhat hoping to get ‘adopted’ for the night, as we’ve termed the act of being invited into a home for rest & recuperation. While we did meet some nice folks, and Denali once more proved to be a wonderful rat ambassador, no one offered to take us smelly people home. So, we scooted around the town and eventually found a school to sleep out at for the night.

We sat around and ate frozen veggies and tortilla chips that I had ‘rescued’ from dumpster earlier that day. (There were also two bags of BBQ chips that were… salvaged. After the rescue mission, we had been sitting out front of the store snacking on those, and some purchased goods too, when we were asked to move along… this is a good indication that we needed to clean up the bikes and ourselves and attempt to appear a bit less homeless).

…hum. sometimes I forget how to read…

Back to the school yard: Stink threw her hammock up in a chain-link dugout, and I crashed out on the asphalt, hoping to avoid being eaten by the swarms of mosquitoes about. Hope doesn’t count for much when faced with blood thirsty little buggers like those though, so when, late in the night, a “security” man walked into my domain and woke me, I opted to set up the tent to sleep bug free the remainder of the night.

I say “security” skeptically because it was just a fella walking through the school yard with a flashlight, who seems just as surprised as I was to see him there. “Who are you?!” he called out in shock. My initial instinct was to shoot a “Who are YOU?” right back at him, but I bit it back and replied that we were just traveling through the area and needed a place to sleep. He then said he was security, but I was surprised when there was no further questioning, just an “okay” as he continued on his sweep. Didn’t really come across as true security to me, but oh well, can’t complain.

Anyways, like I said, I got up and set up the tent after he passed, but the damage had already been done; Stink and I were both riddled with tiny bug bites. They seemed different than our usual bites, being smaller and more numerous, so we speculated that perhaps we’re now in chigger country, but are unsure, as we’re both a bit ignorant as to what chiggers actually look like.

In the morning, we rolled back to the park from the evening before and sat around in the dirt in front of the bathrooms eating bagels and somewhat less than fresh carrots. A fella asked us if we knew how to change our tires and his wife promptly defended half the human population, “Women do know how to change tires, dear.”

still hot. nice hat Swampy!

That day was blazing hot and we rolled through into Maryland at some point. We stopped a few times, more to get out of the heat than anything. One such stop was at a miniature dollhouse furnishings store, that I somehow didn’t enjoy as much as I thought I would. I love miniature things! But these things… they were just not doing it for me. Kinda weirded me out in fact. The customers and shop keeper kept discussing tiny electric lamps and doll house expo shows and I just wanted to leave. I will say that I did like the miniature wooden dining and rocking chairs. That is all.

Our next stop, to refill water and get out of the heat, was the only shop for miles in the middle of nowhere, a little Mexican tienda, where the lady let us go back to the deli food prep sink and fill our bottles ourselves. I’m fairly certain this is against food safety standards. There was also a open bowl of chicken meats sitting out in the sink… another somewhat questionable health practice.

But the water was good! And so refreshing! And much needed as we were guzzling water like elephants in a drought all day. Stink also purchased a variety of Mexican pastries, including a pig shaped cookie that apparently means it’s molasses flavoured.

I openly admit I am a complete goob.

At one point during this day, I saw a shape on the side of the road materialize into the most perfect hat; the kind I’ve been shoulder shopping for for years. I screeched to a stop, hopped off my scoot and nabbed the somewhat worse for wear straw hat. Thank goodness for Amish country.

Rolling on, we got to a McDonald’s located quite conveniently in a Food Lion parking lot. Have I told you guys about Food Lions yet? Great name, super logo, but they do happen to be the ones who asked us to move along one of the previous days. No hard feelings. Seriously, I just like the name.

While in the McDonald’s a man came and sat at the tiny table adjacent to ours and slowly sipped his free cup of water while openly starting right at us. He at least had the decency to momentarily glance away when either of us looked up to see him eyeing us open mouthed. But sure enough, seconds later he would resume his gaze, earning himself the nickname “Baldy McStares-A-Lot” as we left the place and immediately asked the other if they had noticed the intense visual assault happening inside. We don’t look thaaat weird, do we?

About this time, I received a text from my grandpa letting me know that my Aunt Anna & Co. were gunna be in the D.C. area for the next few days. This was a happy coincidence for me, so I sent her a message right away letting her know we’d soon be in the area too.

In high spirits we rolled along the Maryland countryside, with beautiful bucolic views to either side, complete with a fiery sunset tinting the lush landscape with even more vivid colors.

lizzbitts bikes in a good mood.

see a quick video of the ride here: https://instagram.com/p/54egF-FO4z/

We reached our destination of Queenstown, MD that evening and immediately upon arrival found both a park and a church parking lot. There was even a picnic tables and nearby porta-john to complete the perfect sneaky campsite.

Stink cooked up a batch of gnocchi for dinner and we sat on the playground and munched as we watched lightning put on an impressive display in the distance. We chose to sleep under cover in the actual playground, expecting that rain was imminent, so Stink once more found a will and a way to sling her hammock and create a cozy cocoon for the night.

impressive lightning display can be poorly seen here: https://instagram.com/p/54l0AOlO3l/

I was lying on the floor of a lower level of the sprawling play structure when the crunch of gravel and the blinding lights of high beams directly aimed into my eyes subtly alerted me to the presence of a police car. Stink hissed out, “Liz! Is that the cops?? Liz!” I replied that it probably was, and merely remained lying down, preferring to wait to be approached and spoken to rather than sitting up all bleary-eyed groggy before I was due to.

A man called out, asking if we could step down and how many of us were there. He was actually very reasonable with us, and explained that he was only checking the park because there had been problems recently with… lusty behaviors being expressed in the play structure. We were quick to affirm that sleep was the only thing we were after. He took our licenses (we’re too used to the procedure by now) and we explained our situation and the trip and all, and added that we didn’t exactly need to actually camp out in the playground, and were just doing so in case of rain.

He did a quick scope around the park and church properties, ascertained that there weren’t any ‘no trespassing’ signs, and allowed that we could camp out in the church lot for the night. If any other patrols came by, we were to tell them, “Officer Fraiser (like the tv show) okay’d us.” Thanks Mista Fraiser, and your memorable name.

When asking about our upcoming route, Stink let slip that we were planning to hitch across a no-bicycles-allowed bridge to get to the other side of Chesapeake Bay. Strictly speaking, hitching isn’t exactly legal there, so he kinda noted that he couldn’t advise doing so… but probably not to mention it to cops anymore.

Finally he cleared out and left us to our own devices. We popped up the gimp-tent and crawled into bed. Thankfully all that thunder & lightening was just an empty threat and we remained dry overnight.

In the morning, we rode out and found ourselves a nice bike path for a good while. They may meander in a less than efficient way, but they’re absent of cars and usually run flat, which sometimes make them a worthwhile endeavor.

nice shady path

We stopped at a McDonald’s for coffee and hot water to stealthily cook our oatmeals, and while we loitered about, I stuck a note on my bike to see if anyone would drive us over the upcoming bridge. No such luck, but it was worth a shot. We rode further on, right up to about where the bridge started and crafted a sign using some cardboard I found in the trash and a red sharpie borrowed from the gas station we were stopped at. “ACROSS BRIDGE?” it humbly asked, and soon we posted ourselves at the intersection, stretched out our thumbs, and crossed our fingers that the Maryland state police wouldn’t happen by.

After about ten minutes of trying to get the drivers of big trucks to glance our way, we were about ready to try Plan B (heading over to a nearby church and asking for a ride), when a fella in a big silver truck pulled over and offered to take us across if we’d pay his toll for the way back. We had ourselves a deal.

We slowly got the bikes hauled up into the bed of the truck and strapped down, and hopped into the cab, pleasantly chilled with beautiful wonderful magical AC. We chatted with our driver as he took us across the four mile long bridge (which incidentally is so long and rises so high above the water that people have a real phobia of it and there’s a special transportation service that will drive you across … for a fee of $25…).

Once safely on land again, we pulled into a state park entrance and hopped out, slowly dragged the bikes back out of the truck and thanked the man. We rolled over to a shady bench and ate lunch before resuming our ride, knowing we’d be heading into that treacherous beast, urban sprawl, once more.

I keep my Aunt posted as to when we might be entering D.C. and she kept us posted as to the same. We made our way through traffic and somewhat seedy neighborhoods, and eventually found ourselves riding past the capital building, with the Washington Monument towering in the distance.

ooh, pointy.

As we sped down the hill, instantaneously my Aunt called and I went over a small ridge in the road, somehow perfectly bouncing my bike as to cause the front left pannier to come flying off. I pulled to a stop, rushing to grab my bag out of the road and set to work zip tying it back on, a bit more securely mind you, and received another call from my aunt. Holding my phone with my shoulder and trying to load my bike at the same time, we planned to meet up at the Washington Monument, where they were heading to at the moment.

Finally, with bags secure, I caught up with Stink (she had to whip back around and wait for me) and we sped off to the giant obelisk dominating the skyline. I was real excited to see everyone so I cycled right on up to the base and surprised them all by popping up behind them while they searched the crowds for my face. It was a joyous reunion, especially since it had worked out so well, virtually unplanned. We got to chat and Beef got to meet the fam and just generally had a good time.

familiar faces in distant places

national mall, reflection pool to the left, and free range for cyclist. nice!

glamour shotzzz

so fierce!

I coerced strangers into taking this awkward photograph of me.

Whe they all eventually parted off to continue strolling the national mall, we stopped to snap some pictures of the bikes in front of the iconic scenery. Soon, we too continued along the course and met up with the gang repeatedly at different spots. Lots of “hello agains!” and “fancy seeing you heres” as we frog hopped through the parks.

aha! proof!

hi mr. Lincoln. Stink is your number one fan.

We parted for real at the Lincoln memorial after another little hangout session; them to go find a Starbucks and us to go find our Warm Showers host for the evening. Stink had worked had emailing lots of different D.C. members, but this fella, Richard, was the only one to get back to us with a thumbs up.

We rode a lovely bike path (that while was beautiful and lush, also unfortunately smelled strongly of sewer) right up to the street he lived on, and then spent a good deal of time puzzling out what house was his, as we didn’t have an actually address, just a point on a map and a list of landmarks (“down the alley, red umbrella, second gate from the right, second floor door…”).

Finally located, we first were met with the smell of a delicious dinner being cooked as we walked up the steps to the back door. Our host, Richard, emerged from the kitchen and greeted us friendly. We got to know each other for a bit before taking turns showering and having a delicious dinner paired with fine conversation afterwards.

Richard is a German man who works in D.C. doing important governmental advising types things. I may have Stink jump in here and add more details than I can provide, but basically Richard is a genius, and up to date on all things politics and foreign affairs. I think my IQ went up a few notches just from chatting with him.

Soon enough though, the yawns started and couldn’t be controllably be stifled, and it was a clear signal that these two gals were ready for bed.

In the morning the three of us breakfasted together, in German fashion, which included fresh cantaloupe, coffee, dark breads, an extensive variety of jams, some imported from Europe and being entirely new to me. If you know me, you know I love jams (and condiments in general as a rule) and was therefore quite ecstatic as I sampled each new flavor.

After breakfast, Richard gave us a key and headed off to work, while we unloaded the bikes and prepared ourselves for a day of real honest-to-god touring. We headed back to the museums and busy streets of downtown, and split off, Stink heading into the Museum of American History, while I sought out the Natural History Museum. All these Smithsonian museums are free so it was super great to be able to actually do tourist type activities for once.

Rattus norvegicus. aka Beefie.

bird. aka bird.

I roamed the halls for hours, and was especially pleased with the bone rooms, but eventually a growling stomach brought me back out to my bike to snack and plot out a route to a vegan friendly restaurant my home-boy Timmy had told me about when he visited D.C. the week or so before. Stink found me there at the museum before I left, and we scooted out in the same direction, her in search of bao in D.C.’s little Chinatown, and I for my purveyor of fine vegan goods.

We split off again then and I went and had a lovely (somewhat lonely, being without company in a bustling city) lunch of a vegan ‘tuna’ salad sandwich and sweet potato fries. I make this same dish at home, using chickpeas and nori and the like, but for some reason it had made at least three different people throw up… on different occasions. I know… that sounds bad, doesn’t it? It really is a good sandwich though… I mean, I like it… humm.

…Anyways… after lunch, I too went and found bao, unfortunately it didn’t seem fresh, and was rather expensive, but it was the only option, and I knew I’d need a snack if I were to make it through another three hours of museuming. I made my purchase, packed it into my bag, and scooted off to the Postal Museum, another excellent suggestion by Timmy. FYI, I also sorta love the USPS. Something about walking around neighborhoods, getting to handle all sorts of mail, and checking out cool stamps and postcards all the time just strikes my fancy. Not to mention the smart looking uniforms.

hi Miss Earhart. I’m your number one fan.

I wandered around the museum for hours as predicted, ate my packed bao snack, which was kinda terrible, also as predicted. They had a whole section on Amelia Earhart, my number one historical crush, where I eagerly read all about her involvement with the mail system, and also an area where you could pick out six stamps and start your own collection from boxes full that were sitting out on tables. This may or may not have been meant for children. I may or may not have taken seven…

The real live… errr, dead… Owney.

I really enjoyed my time there, and then realized that there was a whole nother floor to it, and my joy was multiplied. Sections on mail carrier vehicles, train mail-cars, a taxidermied dog, Owney, who traveled all around the world (collecting dog tags along the way) as a sort of unofficial mascot of the postal service, there was even a huge Post Secret section (which if you don’t know what that is, it’s this thing were people create and send in anonymous postcards which they’ve writen one of their secrets on… there’s a whole range of things written (good, bad, ugly, funny) and the cards themselves are often works of art. You can look them up online at postsecret.com … be aware that many secrets tend to be suitable for adult audiences only).

Anyways, I roamed around the museum till I was at last forced out at closing time. I was literally the last patron inside, dragging my feet out the door. Outside, I checked in with Stink (she was already back at the apartment), and then headed off to a Trader Joe’s to pick up actual real healthy food snack and then to head “home” for the evening.

It was hot as hell that day, so I took a quick cold shower (such a luxury!) and set to work relaxing and lying about. Richard came home a bit later, but had plans with his girlfriend, so left us with free range in the kitchen to cook dinner and entertain ourselves for the evening. We whipped up some pasta and had a nice meal sharing our experiences of our day apart. After dinner, I went up to bed to read, but soon drifted off. Ahhh…. so nice.

In the morning we had yet another lovely traditional German breakfast, only this time Richard has us try this new bottle of cold brew coffee he had gotten at the store. It was strong as all get out, but that suited us just fine, then we noticed on the label that it was concentrated and you were supposed to dilute it down with water, four to one. Whoops. Still good. Sure woke me up at least.

a motley crew

After our final meal together, we loaded up the bikes, and Richard noticed Denali rustling around in his mail box right before we said goodbyes. I had sorta… not brought him up during conversation, and left him outside on the back patio during our stay (not to worry! still well taken care, just outdoors like normal). It’s hard to gauge whether someone will be receptive to rats or not, so sometimes he goes unmentioned. But I was pleased to find that Richard was quite welcoming and even held him for a moment before we headed out.

Back on the road again, we wound our way through nice neighborhoods, and onto another bike path. We stopped at a post office and then a natural foods co-op next door, feeling a little inspired, if you will, from the fresh healthy foods we had been enjoying at Richard’s house. After eating a vege ice cream treat and loading up on more snack, we continued on our way.

purty ol’ earth

you go, potomac!

The bike path (another old canal tow path) was excellent and shady (so necessary on a hot day such it was), and bore us far through the countryside. There were grand views of the Potomac River and rock formations bulging out of the landscape to our left. We encountered friendly people on the trail, stopped to hike around in a few areas, enjoyed the availability of water pumps every so often to refill our bottles, and picnic tables to lunch at as well.

We got off the trail at Harper’s Ferry, a sort of joint meeting of the Maryland, Virginia, and West Virginia state lines. To our incredulity, we realized we would need to carry the bikes up four flights of stairs in order to get on the bridge towering overhead and cross the river. Never daunted though, we worked in a quick snack, then teamworked the bikes up one at a time, all hundred pounds of them being maneuvered up the staircase.

not kidding about the stairs…

dismounted and walking across the bridge

We had to get this picture…

On to the other side and we had reached West Virginia, and found a town map on an information kiosk that clearly marked a grocery store up on High Street. That name should have been an indication of things to come for us. Soon we were huffing and puffing our way slowly up a steep steep, with no store in sight. I asked a passerby out walking her dog how much further the grocery mart was, but she replied that there was none, just the 7-11 up that way. We’d been duped. But she also informed us that there was a Wal-Mart six miles down the road, and we made our way that way.

We arrived out front just as the sun was setting, and hungrily advanced indoors in search of dinner. A bag of frozen veggies and a can of black beans eaten cold with tortilla chips sufficed…. till I wandered back in later and bought and ate an entire package of chocolate chip cookies… again… dang it.

We sneaked out back and found a spot to throw up the tent and soon the both of us we zipped in and zonkered out. (Trail riding is a bit slower because of the gravelly surface material, and also normally takes us on longer routes than direct roads, so it does wear ya out, but is still quite nice)

In the morning we rolled to a 7-11 across the road for coffee and oatmeal. (Here I will admit I found a 7-11 cup sitting in the Wal-Mart trash that morning, and rinsed it out and used it to get the refill price… I’m, uh, resourceful?)

mmm, walnuts? don’t mind if I do!

christmas in august!

This day we had a goal of arriving in Gore, WV, where we had two packages waiting for us at the post . The first was from Stink’s mom, which included our spare tires, new maps for this leg of the journey, and a chewblock for Denali (his teeth are getting too long for my tastes). The second package was from our friend Donna-Oklahoma-Rat-Lady (whom we met in Yellowstone and have been chatting with online this whole time about all things rat, tour, and bicycling). She has asked awhile back if she could send the three of us a care package and truly (and literally) delivered! There were treats of all sorts for little Beef and fun paper for bedding down in, and treats for us human folks too, as well as a high-tech wind detection device (read: whirly-gig), and a birthday card to boot! It was all super sweet and thoughtful and we can’t thank you enough! (We know you’re reading this 🙂

happppy beef! he says thank you too!

After munching snacks and taking a quick nap, we started packing up our new supplies, and ending up taking with folks coming in to do their postal errands. One such lady even made a cash donation for us to apply to a Watsi patient of our choice, so that was very kind. Miss, I can’t remember what you said your name was, but Mary, a patient in Kenya has you to thank for helping fund her brain surgery!

We finally finished packing and rolled on, into increasingly hilly terrain. We’re worming our way through the Appalachian Mountains, and each rise and fall is quite noticeable on a bike. We finished up the day in Wardensville, WV, and sat outside a Dollar General eating beanie bean burritos (one can beans combined with… another can beans, firmly wrapped in a soft tortilla shell) and talking with more folks about Watsi and our trip. It’s good to be out of the big cities and be able to have folks approach us once more and ask what we’re doing and why for.

After night fell, we rolled over to a baseball dugout we had scouted out earlier, and stealthily rolled the bikes in. I’m gunna say it again, and it’s not for the last time, I love baseball dugouts. Stink slung her hammock from the rafters, I laid out on the bench, and we kept cozy and dry, away from prying eyes, ensuring a restful nights sleep.

This is where I’m gunna sign off, as I buggered Stink into doing the next installment (the 6th through present) even though I’m the one who let the blog get behind two weeks. If you want to read my excuses again, please scroll to the top.

Until next time, your friendly neighborhood cross-country bicyclist and rat handler,
lizzbutz

I know this is long, sorry. . .

Cap’n. Beefy

Manhattan from the George Washington bridge

Many of you have been praying for and/or financially supporting Phyllis, mother of five from Kenya who was diagnosed with breast cancer. I am happy to announce that her medical treatment was fully funded, and her mastectomy was a success. She is currently going through some chemo treatments to make sure all of the cancer cells are cleared, but for now things are looking great for her.

Also, Watsi has changed some formatting for group campaigns and fundraisers (which is what we are doing). In order to better track our effectiveness, we are asking that you join our Watsi team if you are planning on donating to medical treatment through Within Biking Distance. If you haven’t done this and are interested in doing so, please do it 🙂

And now, without further ado, our week:

Lizzy left off in Lebanon, NH, so I suppose I should pick up from there. We left Scott’s and managed to meet up with Chantill and giver her wallet back to her. I had managed to get myself into a conversation with a local coffee crew and one retiree suggested that we take the rail trail following the river. He went so far as to take me outside and give me clear instructions how to get to the trail head, complete with hand signals and landmarks: “go through the mall parking lot, left by the pizza place, right at the park, over the bump, left at the barn . . .” We found it.

The trail runs from Lebanon, NH, to concord, NH, and we were headed to Portland, ME, which is much farther north than Concord, and thus the trail was not on our trajectory. However, it was really hot, the land around us was extremely steep and hilly, and this path ran straight flat in the shade of old growth forests and next to a cheerful stream. So it was that we scrapped our plans for Portland, since we really had no reason for going there other than being able to say “we rode from Portland to Portland” which we will be saying anyway. Another plus of skipping Portland was that we now had a day’s worth of miles that we could spend with friends from the West Coast, Timmy and Maia. More about that later.

A blurry picture, but you get the idea

I forced myself to stay ‘in bed’ until 5:45, and then grabbed everything and packed up. (Here I would like to add that at around 2 that morning I got up in a haze of exhaustion and hunger and ate a granola bar. I promptly left the wrapper next to my sleeping mat and when I got up in the morning I found it a quarter inch deep with ants) We headed out to find bathrooms and a McDonld’s as we needed the Internet in order to find a new route to the Atlantic.

Atlantic

Our first view of the Atlantic

Soooooooooo hot that day

Boston

Cap’n Beef trying out the sand

I was looking forward to Salem because I was really excited to see the site of the original settlement there. I spent a good deal of time researching the Salem Witch Trials of 1692, and did a lot of writing concerning the historiography of the Trials, and the event itself as part of my undergraduate studies.

As history reports, a group of teenage girls, the Putnam girls they are called, began to experience strange afflictions. In this time period, witchcraft was not unusual, and though practicing the arts of ‘black magic’ (various incantations or acts that were intended to bring harm to others that involved calling upon the Devil himself and making a convenient with him in blood) was forbidden, it was common to dabble in ‘white magic’ albeit taboo. White magic included placing an upside down horseshoe on the barn as a good luck charm for the fertility of your livestock and so forth. Interestingly enough, the Putnam girls did admit to dabbling in some witchcraft/magic the week before their afflictions began.

No one really knows what caused these afflictions, but they were strange, abnormal, and did happen. Some historians claim that the afflictions were really faked, some say it was the result of ergotism (hallucinations brought on by eating moldy rye) or some other disease–again, no one really knows. The court transcripts of these trials detail the symptoms which included a lot of writhing about and strange bruising. The afflictions spread around town and even affected livestock. The people of Salem were not idiots, but like us, we’re trapped within the historical context of their time. When strange things began to happen, they looked for a cause.

Interestingly enough, Salem was a community wracked with internal strife well before 1692, and had an impressive history of lawsuits. Many things caused contention from livestock quarrels, to church leadership, to the town charter itself. When the strange afflictions began to appear, and after the doctors realized it was beyond their skill to cure, the witch accusations began–and it got ugly as is what happens when fear and bad history mix.

The courts allowed the use of spectral evidence, which meant that anyone who was afflicted could appear at a trial, and if, once they looked upon the face of the accused they cried out in pain or so forth, it was deemed that the ‘specter’ of the accused was afflicting the witness, thus the one accused was obviously a witch. The problem of course is that anyone could potentially pretend anything in order to ‘get rid’ of a problem neighbor.

This is the type of thing historians argue about: was it all fake, were the trails really just an outcry of oppressed women, were the trails really just about socioeconomic conditions within the community, was witchcraft just a tool to get rid of the outcast members of the community–the list goes on and on and on…

It is interesting to note that those who admitted to being a witch were not killed, but were ousted from the community with the idea that they would have some sort of punishment in the future (perhaps). Those who held fast that they were not a witch, that they did not give their soul to the Devil, were the ones who were hanged or crushed. To many of the accused witches, this was an ultimate test of their faith. To save their earthly life, they would essentially have to deny their faith in Christ and claim that they had made an alliance to the Devil, thus, many of the accused witches did not have the option of simply saying they were a witch and going free. I’m telling you, the court transcripts are fascinating and if you get the chance you should read them.

The Salem Trials are interesting in that by the late seventeenth century, witch hunts were largely out of fashion in Europe and never really caught on in the Americas. Salem is an anomaly here. After the better part of a year or so, the accusations simply stopped. It is an extremely complex event, no one that no one will ever have the definitive answer to the cause. I could write about this for hours more but I will stop because I can imagine the exasperated faces of my parents as the read this who had to endure this historical rambling through all of my research.

I digress: we made it to Salem, and I was disappointed to say the least. We found a museum and such, though we didn’t pay to go in. What was bothersome to me (though not surprising) was that the entire town has sprung up a kitchen economy selling novelty witch paraphernalia, and I felt that was deeply disrespectful to those who lost their lives in Salem and were forced to endure the tragic injustice of their neighbor’s accusations.

We rode on, I was miffed by then, and were forced to meander through our first major urban sprawl since Chicago. And someone spit water on me, or at least I have spent a good deal of effort convincing myself it water. And it was hot. And the hills were steep. After turning around, getting lost, meandering and wiggling our way through the heart of the city, we made it to Quincy just outside of Boston. We found a sneaky little spot on a ledge between a Catholic Parish lawn shed and a Chinese grocery store, ate frozen bell pepper strips with black beans on tortillas, and fell sound asleep.

Mayflower II, built in 1957

I fixed the tent by the way

Timmy and Maia came bearing great gifts of Oreos, chips, salad, and hot dog buns and condiments, and we had a great time. We swam in the lake and let the schools of blue gill bite Lizzy’s scabs (which are plentiful and great bait), and then headed back to the campfire to eat vegan hot dogs, dumpster potatoes, and baked beans. YUM. We also had a great time watching Timmy and Mia attempt to use the double Enu hammock. It looked. . .snug.

Camping with Maia and Timmy.

After seeing Tim and Maia off, Lizzy and I got to spend some time talking with Sabrina and Dexter, and grandmother granddaughter duo from the area who were camping in the yurt behind us, and had offered to let us stay in it that night with them. If we hadn’t had company ourselves we would most definitely have taken them up on the offer.

Waking up in Masschusettes

That day we rode out to Providence, RI (again, there was no state sign) and see my friend Esther from George Fox. Esther has been doing research at Brown University all summer. She and her research partner Emily have been looking at, or trying to find, examples of anomalies of bounded discs in nature. I’m sure there is a better definition for what they’re doing out there, but we didn’t really talk about it that much and that is what I gathered from it. I got really excited to be back in a mathy place complete with whiteboard and chalkboard walls and a mini math library!! Essie showed us around her office, and then walked us back to her house.

Ladies of math, Unite!

It was so hot I had to go downstairs and retrieve Lizzy’s birthday chocolate. Unfortunately, we found that scarfing loads of chocolate in the heat at 2 in the morning does nothing to cool the body down. After giggling get about Chemeketa for an hour–and it was nonsense I’ll tell you–we headed down to the basement where it was cooler.

You see, we had to make it out to New London, Connecticut before 1:00 the next day, which meant that we had to be on the bikes from Esther’s by 6 in the morning at least. I had planned to have my mom mail Lizzy’s birthday box to New London, thinking that we had until 5 to get there from Providence, and the next morning if we missed it. But, as it turns out, the Post Office doesn’t open on Sunday, and closes early on Saturday. I’m fine with that, I just didn’t know what day of the week it was until my mom called me and told me. . .

So, we clambered on the bikes around 6 the next morning, having total of four hours’ sleep, and the knowledge that we had 60 or so steep miles to the post office. Though I studied the route the night before, I got us lost in the woods of Rhode Island (which is NOT flat mom!!!!) and, trusting Google more than I knew better too, got on some sandy mountain biking trail in the middle of bum truck nowhere. I was not pleased. And it was hot. Once back on the road, I disregarded Google’s advice and headed back to a main road. We made it to New London with an hour to spare.

Francess’ twin

The Post Lady was extremely nice and pointed us to a food co-op, which we throughly abused. Lizzy napped, I emailed….for hours. I also switched our ferry reservations for that evening so we left and headed to the ferry terminal. Lizzy took a quick pit stop at a comic book shop, and we met a dog that looked just like my dad’s dog Frances, and then we got on the ferry.

We made it to Long Island just as night was falling and decided that since we had no where to stay, we just had to sleep on the beach. It was so warm, with a nice breeze, and I quite liked it. I got to use my new hammock for the first time, it came in Lizzy’s birthday box (thanks Shaun and Em!) I don’t know about Lizzy, but I think it might just have been my most restful night, which is good because we knew we had 70 miles to go the next morning to get to Kevin’s place where we had made arrangements to stay.

I’m biking around with this. . .

Kevin met us and helped ferry our gear and bikes up the stairs to his apartment, and then showed us a little bit around town. We had dinner at a Mexican place around the corner, then came back home to look at his touring pictures. In the morning, he made us some oatmeal and then convinced us to take the train to Manhattan rather than fighting our way 30 miles through not bicycle friendly urban sprawl.

Waiting for the trail with Kevin

Rambutans, 25 cents

We made it to Penn Station, took the Underground Kmart freight elevator up, and found ourselves dead in the middle of Manhattan! It was a bit of a shock at first. We had plans to go directly to Chinatown and feast of humbau, but decided it better to drop off our wide-loads of gear at Lizzy’s uncle Mateo’s before hitting the city. It was a good decision. We rode the Hudson greenway to lower Manhattan and then Canal Street to Chianatown and walked around for hours sampling rambutans, tater-tots, and bau. We made a turn into Little Italy to get some cannoli and stumbled into an REI, so of course we had to make a quick visit there. I accidentally exploded the lid of my favorite water bottle at Niagara Falls and was hoping to pick up a replacement lid, but the only one that REI carried was 12 dollars! I left empty handed.

Our new friends in NYC

View of Harlem from Kirk and Macario’s

We were so grateful to be able to stay with Krik and Makario, they have a fancy and relaxing apartment where we could rest safely. It was truly a blessing and I am eternally grateful for their generosity. The next morning I slept in until 8, then went back to be because I could! It was luxurious!!!! Lizzy took off to meet with a friend from home (Al B ) and go to the Natural History Museum. I had made plans to see a friend of mine from home and we were going to eat dinner together later that night, so I stayed home and worked on some business.

World Trade Center memorial

Lady Liberty from Battery Park

China town

NYC is great, but it don’t got a WinCo

Around 6 I left and took the Subway from Harlem to World Trade Center and walked around. I went to Battery Park to watch the sun which was gorgeous, Trinity Church, Brooklyn Bridge, back to Chinatown for some bau and a whole lotta other places too. Unfortunately due to some work issues, I didn’t get to meet Jane for dinner, so I found a dicey pizza place and got a couple slices. They were excellent. I walked around for a few more hours and decided that I should probably at some point figure out how to take the Subway back to Mateo’s. It took me a while to find a Subway entrance, and after chatting with a handful of friendly New Yorkers found myself speeding around under New York. I made it to 117th street, but I was a lot farther East than I realized. So I walked toward what I though was Central Park and found out I was at the Hudson River, so I walked some more and toured Columbia University (quite on accident) and finally gave up and looked at my phone for directions. Needless to say, I got home quite late that night.

Kirk uses his Emmy as a door stop

In the morning we packed up, said goodbyes and thankyous to Kirk and Mateo, gave them a terrible host gift of cotton candy car airfresheners, and packed out to Morningside park. Kirk and Mateo sent us off with groceries and left over Ethiopian food from the previous night’s dinner, so we sampled some foodstuffs. We met a man named Davis who was cycling through the park. He had been working on Wall Street and after 9/11 had decided to start leaving the grind. He would like to tour and fix up an old house in the Hudson River Valley. I thought that was a fabulous idea. He also told us about a fistfight that had broken out in an IKEA ferry line the other day, “New York is NEVER boring” he told us.

Lizzy and I rode back up toward Washington Heights, crossed the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey (again, no sign), and begrudgingly continued on. Oye. New Jersey. There are fe thinks more frustrating than riding a touring bike through urban sprawl. For miles and miles we had to be on constant guard for pot holes, busses, changing lights, changing street names and so forth. We made it over some scary bridges through scarier industrial areas until finding a Walmart to camp at just outside of Edison. We had hoped to make it to New Brunswick, but just didn’t have it in us. The next morning we pulled ourselves out of bed and rolled to a McDonald’s to use the Internet and get coffee. Some things never change.

So, with all of that said, we made it out of New York alive! We are on our way to DC, which means we are on track to be at the Gulf of Mexico in about a month. We are also almost half way done milage wise. These are things to be excited about, but still, home beckons. I remarked to Lizzy that it was funny that here I am in NYC wishing I was back in McMinnville! How ridiculous is that! So while my homesickness is not debilitating, it still will be good to make that turn West toward the sunset.

Many thanks to all your prayers and to all of those who helped us out in New York, it’s a great place!

–Haley

As you can see, we’ve rollled into mountain territory once more…

Still riding, and writing…

We finally had to pull ourselves away from our newfound civil war reenactment drum corps and fife band friends last week, only to trek a few miles and stop once more, to write a blog post, and you know, loiter.

We didn’t actually leave leave till late that afternoon, and our goal of Buffalo was a full 55 miles out. We were excited for Buffalo because I was expecting a package from my dad at the post office there.

(Tangent: I needed a resupply of rat food for Denali. He eats fancy pants Harlan Teklad blocks which I have to order in 40lb bags off the internet. Needless to say, he doesn’t go through it very fast, and even when I had three rats it lasted forever. So I freeze the majority of it, and it stays fresh. Anyways, I was running low on the food I had brought with me, and had asked my fa to send a few little sandwich baggies of it to me awhile back.  When I spoke to him next he told me he had sent the entire bag that was in the freezer, and, thinking that Beefie ate like 1/2 a cup a day, figured that he’d need more, so bought and packed in even more rat food (of questionable origin)…. While I was excited at the prospect of getting a resupply of food, I was… less than excited at the prospect of having to cart around like 15 pounds of it. Anyways, we’ll get back to this later).

So we set out for Buffalo, and at some point while rolling through the beautiful New York countryside, we realized that tomorrow would be Sunday, and in the famous words of Uncle Vernon, “There’s no post on Sunday!”

With nothing to do but keep heading towards Buffalo anyways, we did what we do best, and rolled on. We stopped in Hamburg (just outside Buffalo) that evening, having done 37 miles non-stop from Fredonia.

Not to be disheartened by the prospect of having to wait around Buffalo for a day, we plotted to stay with a Warm Showers host there the next day, and to drop off our bags and scoot out to see Niagara Falls in the meantime.

So, we sneaky camped on the edge of a used car lot with apparently very lax security that night in Hamburg, and in the morning, called up potential hosts. We got in contact with Leslie and Dwight, and their son Elliot, and made arrangements.

nakey bike! so slim!

After getting a lengthy morning loiter in, we scooted on to Buffalo, eventually wound our way through the city and to our “home” for the night. We met with Dwight (Leslie, Elliot, and Steve, another cyclist staying with them, were all out mountain biking), and slowly unpacked the heaps of gear strapped all over our bicycles. After riding with so much baggage for two months straight, it’s a bit of a shock to see your bike all naked and weightless like that. Definitely not complaining though, and after a quick lunch, we hopped on our skinny little steeds and biked out 20-something miles to Niagara Falls.

A study on the effects of gravity on liquid H2O

I found a pretty flower. Master Gardeners, what is this??

zipping alongside bright yellow flowers

We got to ride on a bike path that ran right alongside the rushing Niagara River as it raced towards the falls. I think I liked this part even more than the actual falls, as we were right there next to the rapids, churning and boiling over rocks just feet away.

Once we got to the falls, we appreciated the steep drop, craggy bottom, and the effects of gravity on fast flowing water. It was… fally.

feet. butts. water.

After sitting on our butts, viewing the butts of a hundred tourists, and getting a nice misty breeze for a bit, we were ready to head back.

20-something more miles later, and we were back “home”. The whole gang was now home as well, with an additional couple of people, so we had a full house of interesting folks to chat with. We showered up, then soon enough it was dinnertime. Leslie and Dwight had made quite a spread, complete with hamburgers, hot dogs (even two kinds of vegan dogs!), salad, and tofu-rice-pile-yummy-things.

We had excellent conversation as well, and discussed the prospect of riding down to Ithaca (I had been getting daily phone calls, texts, and emails from my dad and Aunt Joyful who really reaaally wanted us to go there), but unfortunately, we all concluded that the rerouting would add two days of climbing the steep hills of the fingerlakes region. So, let it be known, that at some point in my life, I’ll be back to fulfill my family’s desire of visiting Ithaca! (note: I am constantly planning future bike tours while riding on this one. Will I ever be satisfied????) (Let’s hope not)

After desserts, super good coffee, and more comfortable conversation (staying up late chatting with Leslie and Steve), we finally climbed onto comfy couches, covered up with clean soft sheets, and zonkered the heck out.

I slept in till 9 the next morning, which felt late after having been waking by seven for what seems like forever now. I had breakfast, looked up directions to the post office (which was a full 8 miles back) and scooted on my way. It was nice to zip through town by myself for a bit, not being a tourist, just a commuter on errand for once.

somewhat less nakey bike. super cool package delivery vehicle.

I reached the post office, picked up my package, strapped it on my cyclescoot, and zipped 8 miles back home. Right when I got through the gate, my dad called, and upon hearing that I had just picked up his box, requested that I open it while on the phone. I pulled out my ever handy pocket knife and carefully sliced open the layers of tape.

Much to my surprise (!) it was not in fact full of 15 pounds of rat foods! That sneaky dog had plotted and schemed and lied and sent me a box of goodies, an appropriate amount of rat food, random stuffs (including a couple comic books and a 200 piece puzzle that somehow I will have to complete in one sitting), and notes and letters and drawings from my family back home! (Much love to you all! I miss you!) I had a little shown-and-tell party with Stink, Leslie, Steve, and Beef out on the shady picnic table in the back yard.

We were having a lovely time relaxing with lovely folks, and since we still had yet to repack the bikes and such, I decided it was finally high-time to paint Denali’s mailbox. I had been carting around a can of white spray paint (I needed to paint his house white so that it wouldn’t absorb extra heat from the sunshine) for hundreds of miles, anticipating a time when I could paint the box and let it dry before having to strap it back on the bike. It was a hot day out, and we had time on our hands, so Leslie hooked me up with a tarp, taped up the characteristic red flag of his mailbox, and let me turn her backyard into a paint booth.

somebody lives in the Whitehouse now…

While it was drying (quite quickly in the hot sun), we loaded up the bikes, munched some lunch, and talked bikes, touring, and camping gear with Leslie and Steve. It was four o’clock by the time we were ready to roll out, as we may or may not have dilly-dallied a bit to delay having to leave this comfortable paradise we had happened upon.

We finally said our final goodbyes, got hugs, and rolled out the driveway. It was hot hot hot out, and I sure was glad Denali now lived in the Whitehouse, escaping the blazing sun. We rode along, eventually stopping at a Wal-Mart, where Stink bought a tanktop with birthday monies, and I got us some bagels with the gift card Laura, Max, and Sabrina the gum chewing dog from Fredonia had given us. Thanks again guys!

We did more trails that day, and I got to read my comic books traffic free.

some cool trestles too

Soon, we were back on the road to get in some more miles since we had left Buffalo so late. After a total of 51 miles that day, we stopped in Le Roy, NY, at a gas station with some convenient picnic tables up front. We cooked up some dinner in the failing light, then scooted out back behind a growth of trees to camp for the night.

The morning had us all soggy with dew, and, much to Stink’s displeasure, the tent and bikes had acquired a collection of slugs and snails overnight. After picking them all off and packing up, we scooted back to the gas station to cook up some oatmeal, then headed back out on the open road.

That day we just packed on the miles. I loaned Stink my iPod so that she could listen to Harry Potter audiobooks, and I cruised to some tunes on her old iPod. Stink is a die-hard Tolkien fan, and as such, had never read the Harry Potter series, so it’s been fun for me to watch the progress of her journey into the magical wizarding world of Harry Potter. Being the way she is, Stink does have some complaints, (“Wouldn’t broomsticks be utterly uncomfortable to ride on?” “How could the invisibility cloak cover three kids and a crated dragon?” “How do the Dursley’s know when to pick up Harry from the train station?”) but I think the story has sufficiently drawn her in.

We rode on to Phleps, NY, climbing hills that were so insanely steep and long that they were laughable. They were just ridiculous, and had the added benefit of giving us endorphin-powered giggle fits at the top of each one.

Too silly.

In Phelps, we stopped at a gas station, were heartily welcomed by an extremely friendly and out-going clerk, and then cooked dinner on the front stoop. The store had a sweet 2 for $1 deal on my favorite (and increasingly difficult to find) brand of sunflower seeds, Spitz. We got to sit and watch all the foot traffic in and out of the convenience store, and chatted with locals. One fella told us we could camp out on a bike path a quarter mile back, so we rolled out in the dark and set up camp under a small information station on the path, glad to be under cover for the inevitable nighttime showers we’ve been getting with increasing frequency.

In the morning we scooted back to the gas station for breakfast, then made our way out on the road.

That day we stopped at a Subway for lunch loitering and purchased a coffee to cover the use of a booth for a few hours. We both completely zonked out and took a trip to snooze-town in the midst of the Subway lunch rush. I think we haven’t been getting very good sleep what with the heat, humidity, and bugs lately, so the nap was well welcomed.

We stopped at a graveyard at some point.

this was… somewhere?

(This is where I would’ve put more details from that day, were I to have recorded any, say, perhaps, in a journal of some sort. Whoops.)

That evening we pulled into Manlius, NY and immediately went to the Price Chopper and browsed the aisles. I got a bag of frozen veggies for dinner and we headed out the doors to a bench by a small stream across the road. I cooked up some “dinner” with rice and beans and my frozen veggies, and Stink had a sandwich with some salad and chicken she picked up at the Price Chopper.

Afterwards, Stink found a park close by on Google maps, so we scooted through neighborhoods in the dark till we arrived at the secluded place. It was super nice because there weren’t any folks around, it was already dark, there weren’t mosquitoes (for once!), and there was a pavilion to sleep under! I got Denali ready for beddy, laid out the tarp and sleeping bag, and soon enough zonked out.

We woke at 6:02 (this is what I set my phone alarm for each night) the next morning and started packing, rushing a bit to get back to the store for bathrooms. Just as we strapped the last bits of junk back on our scoots, dog walkers of all sorts stormed the park, invading our realm! By that I mean a few folks were casually walking through the area… We rode on.

We had an oatmeal breakfast party outside of the gas station next door to the Price Chopper (okay, I keep saying the name because we like it…Let me just add that their logo involves an axe), and then headed out.

bicycle traffic

That day we jumped onto the Erie Canal Trail, which, as it happened, was having a sort of event. 650 cyclists were en route from Buffalo to Albany, and we had caught them right as they were going through. So, we were soon in the midst of them, experiencing heavy congestion, sometimes in single file on the narrow path, and having to awkwardly fandangle our way along, with plenty of “good morning’s” and “on your left’s” as we passed through the throngs of other cyclists.

We stuck out like sore thumbs due to our wide loads, and I was repeatedly asked what was in the mailbox as we scooted past the pleasure cruisers. Just when we were ready to stop for lunch, we came to refreshment tents full of snacks put on by the event coordinators. We stopped to fill water, and were soon mobbed by inquisitive cyclists, wondering where we were going and what we were doing. They invited us to eat from the snack tables, and perhaps unbeknownst to the coordinating staff, we picked our fill of cookies and crackers and fruits.

found a cute boat. yup.

It was fun fielding questions from hundreds of other bike-enthusiasts and even Beefie made some friends as we ate our lunch and watched the canal locks raise and lower, allowing pleasure boats passage through.

A pedestrian had asked us if there was a tent sale going on…

Soon enough, we scooted on, and out to Rome, where they were all stopping for the day. There was a field of tents and dufflebags (that had been carried by moving truck, rather than peddled along), and an old fort from the revolutionary war. We stopped for a quick tour of the fort (Fort Stanwix for those interested) before heading along.

Cornhead tries on some historic garb. She just looks more homeles.

Stink in a guard station (where they would stand if it was raining to keep their guns dry)

Stink got really worried when she realized i was actually lighting my lighter

We cruised out along the canal path again, this time free of other bikes, and I kinda missed all the company. But the path was beautiful and green and we soon got lost in our own thoughts once more (or perhaps Stink got lost within the Harry Potter universe).

Soon enough, we had done above and beyond our miles for the day and found ourselves at a McDonald’s in Herkimer, NY, abusing wifi and charging privileges like nobody’s business. I walked across the road to the Wal-Mart and picked up another bag of frozen veggies for dinner (we weren’t terribly hungry after feasting at lunch and snacking all day, like we do).

quite zonkered though

Once our gadget’s batteries were all charged, and our own brain batteries sufficiently drained, we packed up and rolled out to a baseball field adjacent to the Wal-Mart. The dugouts were unfortunately locked, so we just locked up the bikes, threw down a tarp in the grass, and zonked out right in the open.

Once again, morning was very dewy, and perhaps it even sprinkled that night. We stuffed away our sodden bags, folded up the tarp and walked our cyclescoots back on over to the Wal-Mart.

I had picked up a discount box of almond milk at some grocery store the day before, so we sat on the curb out front and ate cereal. Lots of cereal. As in we needed to use up the whole carton of milk that morning because the little plastic lid was missing (no wonder it was discounted!)

Before we were ready to go, we decided that we weren’t ready to go, and that a good wifi loiter was needed to get us in the mood for biking in the sun and the humid heat all day. We promptly went to McDonald’s and drank coffee (with almond milk!) and sat around for ages.

Eventually, once the sun was in full blaze, we mustered up the gumption to actually hit the road, and after filling water bottles and getting Denali’s ice cooler all set up, we got the heck outta Dodge. Er, Herkimer or wherever we were.

He likes to clamber around my scoot

I dunno much about that day, other than is was probably unbearably hot, humid, and hilly. Okay, seeing as we made it through alive, it might have been just barely bearable….

We did, however, come across two other bike tourists as we were leaving Johnstown. (We stopped for a quick lunch and Stink snuck in a powernap and an ice cream pick-me-up afterwards).

We were just pulling out of the gas station when we noticed them behind us, and decided to turn back and see what they were up to. Their names were Emily and Adam, and as luck would have it, they were heading in the same direction as us, and anticipated ending their day in Saratoga Springs just like us. While we were briefly chatting, it began to rain, so Stink and I prepared for the worst, and they zipped off ahead.

Soon enough we caught up to them on a hill on the way out of town, and after chugging along behind them for a bit and privately, but not at all privately, having a really dorky conversation about the latest events in Harry Potter amongst ourselves, we opted to pass them by and continue on at our own pace.

We got to Saratoga that evening and were thrust into the midst of a bustling main street of fancy shops and fine dining. We locked the bikes up and walked the street, smelling and staring longingly at  the small portioned, artfully arranged, no doubt way out of our budget dishes being served to outdoor seating diners all along the sidewalk. We stopped in a consignment antique/thrift shop and spent time sifting through hundred of old photographs and post cards.

Once more walking along, two fellas on a bench, three or four busy city blocks from our bikes mind you, called out and asked if we were the cyclists as we walked past. In our grubby clothes and grubbier skins, we stood out amongst the throngs of people maneuvering through the sidewalks. We chatted with them for a bit, and they told us they would be riding cross-country on Vespas next year. At first I thought they were joking, but now I think they were serious. How awesome!

Eventually, we headed back to the bikes and towards a Wal-Mart five miles down the road. We stopped at a different grocery store with the same potential for sneaky camping before we got there, and decided to scope out the dumpster situation before deciding what to do for dinner. Out back there were three bins full of “compost” that quite pleased us. We got bananas (one large bunch a-piece), bell peppers, lots of little potatoes, an onion, a couple  peaches, a cup full of blueberries for oatmeal in the morning, and some grapes. While sifting through, we also ate our fill of blueberries and bananas, there being so much we could never have tried to grab it all.

So, will bellies full of fruit, and a bag of produce dangling from the handlebar of each bike, we rolled on in search of a place to camp for the night.

A few blocks away we found ourselves in a huge mall parking lot, that was bordered by some woods with a nature trail running through. Satisfied that we’d be able to pitch a tent somewhere in there, we went and found a picnic table by one of the mall entrances and began cooking a dinner of potatoes, onion, bell peppers, veggie broth, and peanut butter. Try it! You’ll like it!

Once dinner was eaten and pots and cups and spoons all rinsed and packed away, we scooted into the woods, and it began to lightly rain. After a bit of scouting around in the dark, we found an acceptable place to pitch the tent and leaned the bikes up against some trees. The tent was hot and soggy, but eventually we were able to fall asleep.
I think those dense woods were the most “naturey” place we’d camped in awhile, and I do admit I got a bit spooked when I crawled out of the tent in the dead of night to find a spot to pee…

In the morning, we skipped the mall and headed to this Market 32 grocery store (which is owned by Price Chopper, but is the swanky Whole Foods version, complete with a Starbucks inside). We opted for a classy loiter there, rather than hit up a McDonald’s AGAIN, so happily shared a coffee and stocked up on free honey packets while preparing our oatmeal-plus-dumpster-fruits. Stink then zonked out right at the table, and was asked if she was homeless by a lady named Cookie when she woke up.

In desperate need of laundry washing, and in desperate want of sleeping in doors and not in a soggy, smelly, hot tent, we attempted to set up a Warm Showers hosting for the night, but to no avail.

Thinking we might hear back from a lady in Rutland, Vermont, we set out to do a 70 mile day in the humid landscape.

It was hot. I know that for sure.

the river was tempting…

At one point we caught up to Emily and Adam again, which was good as we got to chat with them for longer as we peddled the same way. They are a husband and wife from Ohio, and Emily had flown out to Oregon with her brother in June and started out there, and, near Wisconsin I think, her brother went home, and Adam joined in for the last leg of the trip. Nice folks!

We eventually passed them, and continued on our way, only to turn back after a bit, realizing we missed our turn. They were taking the same route as us today as well, so we were right behind them again soon enough. At this point, some extremely steep hills appeared, and as Stink & I climbed away, we got a serious case of the giggles at how absurdly steep the hills were, and how we were smack behind these poor people again, and could not stop laughing. It was… pretty goofy.

After the laughing fit was done and over, we said hi’s and bye’s to them and passed by. The terrain remained mountainous, but we were ready, and felt strong climbing along all day. Though at one point my head on my front shifting cable snapped off (it had been increasingly unwilling to shift into high gear lately, which resulted in me having to really yank on the thing). Luckily, I happened to have this bike mechanic person lady with me, and she quickly fixed up my cyclescoot good as new.

let’s play find the cyclist.

We rode on, and soon were on the lookout for a Rails to Trails trail off the main road that we could ride for 10 miles. We passed by the unmarked spot once, headed back and found it, scooted along, then I climbed a giant ridiculously steep mountain of slate, only to find that the path lay back down below, rolled down, started down an extremely overgrown path, realized that the correct one was just on the other side of a deep ditch, headed back,  saw Adam & Emily, looking just as confused as we were at the giant slate mountain, let them know we had scouted out the right way (after multiple attempts) and finally scooted on our way on our well-hidden but highly anticipated bike path.

finally! The right path!

After a bit we reached a bridge with nice cool looking water below and decided to stop for a swim (it was still hot hot hot out). We unpacked some bathing supplies and changed into skivies for swimming after Emily & Adam had caught up and passed us by. I grabbed Denali’s mailbox and we headed down for a nice refreshing dip.

Well, what would have been a nice dip if this creepy old dude hadn’t come along and literally just stood staring at us from along the top of the bridge… Seriously, dude was straight creepin, hard.

We quickly finished scrubbing grime and I located Denali (who had scampered off into some little burrow when I had my back turned, naughty rat), then headed back up to our bikes.

Turns out, this trail that we thought was out in the boonies like it had been for hours was a little leas than half a mile from a town.  We were… unaware of this when changing into swimming clothes.  Oh well.

We rolled on, got off the trail 10 miles later, and scooted along to West Rutland  where we decided to call it a day (as we hadn’t heard back from the Warm Showers lady in Regular-Normal-Center Rutland). We found a picnic table outside a Price Chopper, cooked up a filling meal of discount whole wheat gnocchi with spaghetti sauce, onion, and dumpster bell pepper.

Stink was plum tuckered, so after dinner, she found a nearby church, and we scooted over to it to make camp in it’s parking lot for the night. Once more, it was a hot, humid, stinky, rainy, buggy night, and we sorely wished we had found a host that day.

We woke up and started packing at 6:02, sans any alarm snoozing since we were in a church parking lot on a Sunday morning. We scooted to a gas station for water & potty, then rolled on to Regular-Normal-Center Rutland for breakfast. We stopped at a Price Chopper to restock on delicious, cheap, good ol quick oats oatmeal, then hit a McDonald’s hard. For hours. Charging, napping (Stink zonked again, we seriously haven’t been getting very good sleep in the weather), finding a Warm Showers host for the night, and starting this blug post.

Only once the sun was full and ready to boil our brains did we head out, around noon it was. We knew we had a mountain pass to climb once we got out of town, but weren’t afraid. We’ve been feeling pretty bike-strong on all the hills lately.

Sure enough, it was steep and hot as heck, prompting to test my limits by attempting to remove my brassiere whilst riding full tilt up a mountain. I was victorious.

Once we got up to the top, it wasn’t even a big enough deal to get a summit picture, so we just jumped at the much anticipated downhill.

The rest of the day was a bit less hilly, being somewhat downhill from the top of the pass. We stopped in various places for water, postcards, a new spare shifting cable, and other various sundries.

At one point I saw that the shoulder of the road was littered with cash monies. I screeched to a stop, called out for Stink (in front of me), and began picking up twenty dollar bills upon twenty dollar bills. Then, looking around, I found a wallet in the middle of the road, and we found various ID’s and cards strewn about. This was all very exciting.

After we had collected all the bits we could find, we rolled on, and I happily imagined finding the owner, Chantell, from Seattle Washington no less, and being able to restore her lost items. I was also entertained by wondering how the heck her wallet had ended up in the middle of the road in bum truck Vermont.

Rolling through a town later that day, we saw a cop doing a routine traffic stop. Stink pulled over and said we ought to give the wallet to the cop, but, I, a bit stubbornly, told her I wanted to try to find the person myself, and that if that didn’t work, then I could take it to the cops. She reluctantly allowed, making note though that it’s owner was probably frantically looking for it and the cop could probably find her faster.

We then saw that we were at a library, and Stink suggested that I go in right then attempt to find Chantell using the computers. But as I was walking to the doors, I had second thoughts about not just giving it to the cop, so I walked back over his way, and flagged him down as he drove past. He got out of the car and I explained the situation to him, but he said he couldn’t take the wallet since it hadn’t been found in the town, and that I’d have to get it back to the owner myself.

With that, I was pleased, and walked back to the library, excited to sleuth it out on the internet, but when I got there, it was closed, and we just had to roll on.

At some unmarked point we passed into New Hampshire (Vermont had been unmarked when we entered as well), and soon weren’t far out from our host, Scott’s house. He called up on the phone and said he’d be heading our way, as he hadn’t gotten to ride all day. Oh, also, by the way, when Stink spoke with him, he had said that a married couple was also going to be staying with him that night. Can you guess who?? Yup, our friendly leap-frogging friends from this week.

When we got into town, we had more steep hills to climb, and soon Scott appearedd and rode with us the rest of the way back to his house, up a series of increasingly steep hills. Keeping up with him left us dripping with sweat when we reached the place, and after saying hullos to Emily & Adam, I jumped into a cold shower and clean clothes!

After that, I let little Beef do some exploring, and watched as he nibbled on a slug, then spazzed out, trying to wipe the slime from his usually very clean-kept handsies. I don’t think he liked the taste either… poor silly rat.

We had yummy tacos for dinner, and chatted about this that and the other thing. We listened to “Alice’s Restaurant”, plotted routes for the next day, I sleuthed around the internet and found the wallet owner, and soon folks were drifting off to bed. I stayed up reals late writing this.

Our new pal, Scott.

In the morning we were all up and packing early to be out of the house by eight. We said bye, rolled down the hills, and now we find ourselves sitting in a gas station, gobbling up oatmeal, and waiting for Chantell to come meet us.

The end! for now.
Love,
Lizzbutts & Beef

Someone isn’t quite period

Well, that makes 16

Calbert Arms Fife & Drum Corps, the new cool

The last post left off behind the Walmart in Oregon, OH. Which means I have to catch everyone up on two states, one birthday, two torrential downpours, two host families, one Civil War parade, and the intimate details of eight dinners. I might back off of the food descriptions to save time. . .

We left Oregon in the morning (once again, that’s Oregon, Ohio) and headed out toward Cleveland like a herd of turtles. I don’t really remember much of that day, except that I had a headache, and we saw another of those gigantic natural gas burners. Lizzy and I have decided that they are secretly manufacturing clouds out here. My headache cleared after a while, but my navigation skills were left in a fog. I missed a turn en route to Sandusky, and accidentally led us around a peninsula, a 25 mile detour. To say the least, I was peeved. Lizzy, of course, wasn’t bothered because it was such a “nice ride around the lakeshore.” Grr. Such a positive attitude. I realized my mistake when we hit the road we were supposed to be on but by then it was getting close to dark and we had 25 miles to go before reaching Huron, OH, our planned destination. We rode on into the evening and were assaulted by a thick and unrelenting cloud of gnats and mosquitoes. The onslaught was so fierce that by the time we made Sandusky in the dark, the both of us had buggy beards. We found a church on the edge of town that just so happened to have a private pavilion and soon commandeered the location and fell asleep.

Cleveland

New York Corns

The next day we knew we had to make it to Cleveland because we had arranged a night with warmshowers hosts, Sasha and Even. The morning was a perfect temperature, and since we had been able to get on the road early, we figured we would take our time. I happened to find a fun pair of kooky shorts that day–love ’em or hate ’em everyone has an opinion.

The weather was so nice we couldn’t resist a chance to go for a dip in Lake Erie. We found a free park, and after carefully reading the toxic algae warning signs, decided to jump in. It turns out that we could have just waited a minute and let Erie come to us.

Lizzy swimming in Lake Erie

The moment we left the water it started to sprinkle, and then rain. I am no stranger to rain; this rain was spectacular. It turns out that this entire region has been experiencing an inordinate amount of rainfall, and many places are flooding–places such as the bike lanes. It was fun for a while because the water coming off of the road was warm, and we knew we had a place to dry off at that night. It was less fun as we drew closer to Cleveland and the roads became increasingly crumbly. I couldn’t see beneath the flood and ran into something, exploding my front tube. After some soggy, roadside, mechanical work, we once more mounted the cycles for Cleveland and made it to Sasha and Evan’s completely soaked. Evan let us wash our clothes, take showers and dry off, for which we are eternally grateful.

I lock my elbows when I ride. Weird right?

Their home was really cute, so cute that I took some pictures of the inside. Maybe that’s creepy, but take it as a compliment. I did the same thing at Tom and Karen’s. . . We ended up going out for Vietnamese food that night, and in the morning woke up in complete luxury on Sasha and Evan’s couches. They are truly wonderful people and I’m really glad we got the chance to meet. Sasha gave us directions to KoKo’s Bakery in Cleveland’s “Asiatown” (put in quotations because the Cleveland Asiatown is comprised of one bakery) so of course, we had to go and get our bau on. Duuuuuuude. There is nothing like fresh humbau. Get some if you haven’t tried it. Seriously. Get up and get some. Right now. It’s worth the drive. Honest.

Breakfast at Sasha and Even’s

We rode out of town into a headwind following the shore on the bike path, and then plodded through some high end historical neighborhoods. We were headed out toward Erie, PA, but I was full of bau, and wasn’t feeling too motivated. We took a few breaks along the way and met a lawyer named J at Aldi’s who bought our groceries and told us about Mediwish International–a Cleveland based nonprofit that sends medical supplies and provides training around the world.

From there, we peddled toward the hills and met a wonderful woman named Mary, who had an appropriately labeled ‘world’s best mom’ birdhouse in her yard. Seeing us struggle up a hill, she was moved with compassion and invited us home for dinner. We had a wonderful and filling time with her and her awesome son, Tom, pun intended. Tom explained the plot line of “Ben Ten” to us, and showed us the finer points of some video games. Mary gave me some “hola granola” for my birthday that was phenomenal. Hola Granola is homemade in Ohio and sales profits go directly to help woman who are trafficking victims. It was bomb granola. That night we made it to Ashtabula, OH. I should clarify, we made it to a truck stop/Denny’s improperly labeled as in Ashtabula, but is really 7 miles out of town.

We camped out behind the truck stop and Lizzy met a cool fellow named Carl, and his dog Champ. Carl relayed to Lizzy a fantastic dream in which Carl’s friend sold Champ to LeBron James for a million dollars. It is a long dream and if you’d like to hear the whole thing ask Lizzy because It’s worth hearing. In the end, Carl got the Champ back, but only after sneaking into a NBA game, attending a circus with LeBron, and taming a lion (or something). It sounded stressful to me.

My new ensemble

We woke up the next morning, my birthday, to sprinkles. I thought that we should perhaps feast on pancakes at Denny’s to celebrate but after checking the radar decided to get some miles in before the worst of the rain came. The 7 miles to Ashtabula were insanely perfect. A paved rail-to-trail path took us exactly straight and downhill right to town, and it was beautiful to boot. It was like riding our own, private road through a rainforest. As it was my birthday, Lizzy bought me a Big Breakfast at McDonald’s (just for you daddy, I know how you love Big Breakfast) and surprised me with gifts. One gift was so great, so perfect, so improbable, I still can’t comprehend how: that stinker got me a copy of Ian Hibell’s Into The Remote Places which is one of the best bicycle touring books in the world! Or IS the best touring book. Somehow by bike, thousands of miles, and without damage, it made it into my grimy mitts.

It was pouring when we left, but it didn’t look like it was going to stop so I called ahead to a semi-famous warmshowers host in Erie, Leo, who agreed to let us stay with him. We took off into the deluge and paddled to Pennsylvania. I mean, peddled. . .

We stopped just past the border and met one of the most outstanding citizens I have ever come upon. Lizzy was sitting at the gas station looking pathetically damp, eating cold chili beans and mustard out of a can with a spork (such is life for us) when she was approached by a boy, probably eleven years old or so who had just bought a sandwich. He asked her why she was eating beans and she said, “oh, I was hungry and they’re good.” With that, he walked out the door, got on his bike, and rode away. We’ve had a few unsatisfying conversations of that sort and are used to it, neither of us expected to see him again. But after a while he came back. Lizzy was at the bikes outside and so he came to me and asked where she was. I told him, and he offered his sandwich to us saying that he didn’t want us to be hungry. It was the very sweetest thing that anyone has ever done and it simply melted my heart. We talked to him for a while, mostly about his bike. He has modified a sling to be a BB rifle holster so he can ride armed. Xander: we will never hear from you again, but you are bound for success. Also, Lizzy gave him some candy that we had been carrying with us through the rain. In hindsight, it was probably all sticky and smooshed together.

With melty hearts, we rode into the headwind the last few miles to Leo’s in Erie. Leo lives at the top of an incredibly steep hill. Just throwing that out there. We were very concerned about getting to Erie before 5 pm because we were expecting a mail drop. Leo graciously offered us a ride and we were very fortunate he did because we got four (yes four) boxes in the mail! And Leo gave us a “nickel tour” of Erie, and explained some grievances toward GE, which has up until recently been manufacturing locomotive engines in Erie. Now they have moved to Ft. Worth. We had a great time at Leo’s. He and his girlfriend Bonnie made us dinner, and had me blow out a birthday match on a delicious cake. (They didn’t have candles) Lizzy and I retired to the guest room to open up some mail from home.

Mail from home, you guys rock

Bob and Myrna Summers, Barbara Rainwater, Heather, Dylan, Kater Potater McInnis, Sam Weigal, Lela McInnis, FaFa, Momma, Tessa, Mark and Debbie Shraepel, Jeff, Shelby, Stephanie Kunkle, Brian Bump, Mary Inscore, Katie Kenning, Trevor, Abby, Clinton and Teresa Spencer, Dug, Ruthy and Holly Wilhelm, Anna Marie and Bellah, Kellen Strong, Lillian, Maddy Meadows, Danni, Naomi Sweet, Rylee, Carson, Addy, Shaun and Emiliy Stong, Sabastian, Quynne, Biggy, Cody, Cindi, Wayland, Beep, Poppet, Hoot, Noodle, the Kennings, Pam and Curtis Stringer, Elisabeth, Mark, Lena and Jane Childers, George Howard, and Jean Meade
Thank you! I might have missed a few, if I did sorry. I’m thanking you too.

I cried a little bit.

Best birthday ever.

I love you all.

I also got a very special box of delicious food from my dear friend Amanda Nystrom.

The next day, we packed up all of our things and went back to the post office because two cards from my Aunt Becky had not come with the other boxes. When we arrived, the postmasters were not too enthusiastic about helping us, and said we had nothing else. So I called my aunt, double checked addresses and such, and then went back in to ask again. Still no. So lizz went in and asked if we could have someone else pick the letters up for us, which is a no. We explained our cycling situation to them and still nothing. So with empty hands, we walked back out and called Aunt Becky to thank her for trying. After I’d hung up the phone, one of the postal people came out with three letters! I don’t know what they were doing the other three times they ‘looked’ for our mail, but I’m grateful nonetheless. We each got a letter from Aunty Becky, and I got another heart lifting letter from dear miss Amanda.

We peddled down the street to use a bathroom and a man told me that I had beautiful shorts. Hmmm. And husky legs. Hmmmm. I’m pretty sure it was a compliment, he was impressed that we’d biked so far. We stumbled upon a Country Fair Gas Station 50th birthday party and got free hot dogs, chips, cookies, waters and high fives. I was on the hunt for post cards which are getting increasingly more difficult to find out here, but to no avail. We rode on until we reached the town of North East Pennsylvania, which is located in the north west corner of the state-go figure- and met another cyclotourist who was very intense and really wanted us to check out New York wineries. I simply abandoned Lizzy to that conversation after 3 attempts to gracefully cut it short. We also stumbled upon a great 2nd hand shop and got a bundle deal on some sweet vintage post cards, so watch your mailboxes!

Mail, coming your way!

From there we rode into NY, snapped a picture crossing the border, and enjoyed some beautiful weather. I promptly got a flat. Number two this week, a sign that my tires are wearing thin. I switched my front tire out for my spare, which is essentially a new tire and we rode on. The delay prevented us from traveling as far as I wanted to go that night, but it turned out for the best.

Just as dark was coming we rolled into a time warp and found ourselves in 1863! The town of Fedonia was celebrating the posthumous awarding of the Medal of Honor to a town son, Alonzo Cushing, who was killed in Gettysburg while heroically defending Union lines against Picketts’s Charge. We happened to roll into the pre-party and met a wonderful and talented troop of musicians, the Calvert Arms Fife & Drum Corps, who let us stay in their camp at the city park. Mark, Mary, Markus, John, Dave, Cody, Jeff–you are some of the coolest people in the world! It was absolutely fantastic. After hearing a concert of the top hits from the 1860s, we cozied up around a campfire and listened to reenactment news. Mary, mom of the group who is a teacher/beekeeper/living history woman/columnist gave us a jar of her honey (yum!). She and Mark live near town and they let us stay in their canvass tent for the night since they wouldn’t be using it. We jumped at the opportunity.

The Calbert Arms crew waking up after a late night

We also were able to meet Rosamond Gallepsi-Burns, whose father was a WWI veteran. Rosamond has written a book, Dear Jen, which is a collection of letters between her father and mother during the war. She wrote the book as a way to get to know her father, who left before she was old enough to remember him. She is currently working on a second book. Rosamond encouraged us to write in our journals, and to laminate everything! I will continue to keep up on my journal, though I don’t think it is in my budget to laminate the hundreds of pages I’m writing.

Waking up in 1863

We also met a couple, Laura and Max, and their energetic, gum chewing spaniel mix pup Sabrina. We had talked with them the night before, and came back in the morning with a gift of Lara Bars and a gift card. We were overwhelmed by their kindness, and by the fact that they had actually gone back home and read our blog the night before. If you are reading this now Laura, you have to go on tour! Send us an email when you go!

Confederates

A curious onlooker

In the morning, Mary brought us muffins and eggs, and we got to hear another mini concert, watch a parade, meet Abraham Lincoln and U.S. Grant who took our business cards and drove away in a Lincoln Penny Mobile, see my great great great great grandpa Robert E Lee, hear cannon fire (it scared the tar out of me the first time), and listen to the heroic mini biography of First Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing.

By the time of his death at age 22, Alonzo Cushing had seen combat at Manassas, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville and survived. His biography can be read here. Incidentally, His brothers were also recognized for their courage in combat, one in the West, and one for his involvement in the sinking of the USS Ironclad. It was a somber moment for me as I watched the Calvert Arms drummers and knew that were it really 1863, it would be likely that they would suffer the same fate as First Lieutenant Cushing. There has never been such a poignant time in American history, or time so crucial to our existence as a nation. It is worth remembering the passion and valor of those soldiers who fought to determine our fate, whether Confederate or Union. I sometimes wonder if I would have the grit, and I don’t think I would. I’m quite sure that after even hearing the horrible sound of a distant battle I would run for the hills.

I’m quite grateful for having met our new living historians, and for their commitment to keep in remembrance that terrible struggle. I am also grateful for having the honor and opportunity to work closely with Dr. Kerry Irish as his TA through his Colonial America and Civil War courses because I truly believe you cannot know or love this county until you have heard her history, and heard it from accurate sources.

And so, another week has gone down on the books. This had been a fabulous birthday week, this shabbily slapped together blog post does but touch the surface of the wonderful people we have met, the stories we have heard, and the sights we have seen. Everyday I wake up with appreciation for this opportunity and gratitude to the remarkable and kind strangers we get to meet every day. It is good.

Thank you all for following. Stink out.