withinbikingdistance

Still behind. Forever and always behind. Oye.

A storm welcomed us to Tennessee

Part B of A and B

Waking up under a church pavilion in Rock Camp and listening to the rain falling heavily around us was not conducive to an early start. We managed to get out of our sleeping bags around 7:30 and whip up a mean oatmeal. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t need sugar in my oats in the morning and I’m kind of proud of that. We took off, up a slope toward Peterstown, WV, making a quick pit stop at a gas station that happened to have pumpkiny flavor JJ’s pies. We perhaps got one for breakfast. From there we meandered over hills and under hills, not really wanting to put too much effort into it and making sure to stop at every food opportunity. I got a sack of peaches and a sack of green bell peppers for 50 cents a pop. Since we were following the border, we went in and out of Virginia and West Virginia what seemed like a million times. Eventually we sat on the sidewalk out front of a restaurant eating semi-ok mushy peaches and talking to my mom on the phone when we realized what we were doing and decided to pretend to be a little bit more professional and make some miles.

We went over a couple large mountain/hills and spotted a Walmart gleaming in the distance. Walmart means air conditioning, non-judgemental loitering zones, bathrooms, snacks, and entertainment. Sometimes you can even get away with charging a cell phone. Since we were both dripping sweat, we wheeled in.

After procuring copias snacks, I locked in the coordinates for Blue Wells, WV, on my GPS and off we went. We wound through some tight and steep roads when out of no where the sky opened up and dumped rain upon us! It was a massive amount of rain. We sprinted for cover and found the remains of an old gas station, but that proved to be inadequate for us. The rain began to fall so hard that it was bouncing off the pavement and hitting us from below. Since we had plenty of snacks (I found a couple unopened Hershey’s bars on the road) and it was warm, we both were laughing about it.

The thunder grew louder and the lightening more intense making quite a lovely storm, although we had no where to stay for the night. I was going to check my phone to see if there was a church along our path when a man pulled over to check on us. It was hard to hear his voice through the rain, but we were able to understand that he was offering us a home for the night, and dinner. He mentioned something about his wife cooking up veggies and something else about how they had hosted some gals who biked around selling textbooks. We couldn’t refuse. Tim said that he would have to return home to get the van and have his son take the seats out so that the bikes could fit, but he would be back in a half hour or so.

We exchanged thanks and phone numbers and he drove away. While he was gone, a woman and her son pulled over wondering what we were doing and what was living in the mailbox. They had seen us at the WalMart earlier. We explained, gave them a business card, and they drove away, then came back and insisted we take some snack money. We thanked them for it.

Tim came back and we loaded our bikes into the van. It took some doing, but after a huff and a puff both bikes were in the back, and both us gals were crammed in the front seat excited to go on a real live car ride! Tim drove us home and we were met by Michele, his wife, and Aaron, his younger son. Michelle showed us where the showers were and let us do our laundry. Mind you, this is the same nasty laundry that had been steam cooking in plastic bags in our panniers since DC. Poor, poor woman.

Some of Michele’s pickles

Tim explained that McDowell County used to be one of the wealthiest counties in the country due to the booming coal industry, but it has slowly become more and more isolated and impoverished as area coal mines closed. It is certainly not a place two cyclists want to find themselves at night. Most homes are unapproachable due to ferocious dogs and during the day the steep, hairpin-curve roads mixed with coal trucks and little to no hope that drivers expect or care if there are cyclists out make for a dangerous ride to say the least. Tim suggested that we go to work with him and Aaron at HSM in the morning so that we could use the Internet and and see what all is going on in lower West Virginia. We couldn’t say no, and were excited to take a day off and get to look around.

Us and Mini. Poor thing got an armpit sandwich for thanks

Mmmmmmmmm. Chow time!

Giving an important presentation concerning the world…. Just kidding.

In the morning we said goodbyes, gave hugs and email address, took pictures, and then tossed all our gear in the back of the van and drove out to the 460. Tim dropped us off and headed out to work. Though the 460 is a four lane and highly traveled, it was deemed safer for bicyclists than the tipsy back roads we’d planned on taking. We rode all the way out to Vansant and stayed at a church pavilion there. The pastor gave us permission to go into the building as well. I was so tired that I threw up my hammock and immediately fell asleep. I didn’t realize that I had placed my hammock directly under a streetlight since I fell asleep while it was still light out. Around 9 or so, a man drove the church bus back to the parking lot and dropped off a bunch of people. He didn’t realize that we were staying at the church, so upon seeing my hammock he decided to investigate. I think we startled the day lights out of each other and of course, I couldn’t sleep after that. The next morning we groggily stumbled into the church to make oatmeal and sample some old cookies we found in the microwave, and then took off to what we both knew would be a strenuous day.

Pudding Clouds

We made it out to Jenkins, KY, and realized that we’d have to climb back out of there into Virginia (again). So after a quick snack break at the Family Dollar, we hopped on the scoots and peddled up our last mountain of the day. The view from the top was wonderful, and we were told that a lot of college geology classes go up to that particular point to look at rocks and so forth. I could see why. We coasted down the other side, trying to avoid the rumble strip, and rolled to a stop in front of a little church in The Pound, VA.

Beautiful sunset marks the way home

Just as we finished eating dinner a man pulled over and told us that we would probably not be welcome to sleep on the church’s porch for the night. We couldn’t tell if he was affiliated with the church or not, but decided to listen to him. He told us that we should go down to the First Baptist Church which was about a half a mile away. We peddled off, found the church, and we’re just rolling into the back parking lot when we ran into two of the ministers. We explained our situation and asked for permission to sleep in the parking lot for the evening. Pastor Tom said that we could, but asked us if beds and a shower wouldn’t be better. We said of course it would, and Andrew led us out back to the old circuit preacher apartment. It was a complete time warp to 1972 and we liked it! We expressed our gratitude and then cleaned up and went to bed. It was so fantastic to have a dry, not foggy place to sleep, and–get this– there was an air conditioner!

In the morning, we slowly made oatmeal and packed up. Andrew had told us that there was a monster climb getting out of the Pound and offered to give us a ride to the top in the morning if we wanted, but we just couldn’t cheat like that even if the offer was tempting. So, we were less than motivated. We peddled off to the IGA/Dollar General down the street to stock up on food and to procrastinate going up the mountain. We got some new batteries for my radio and Lizzy’s tail light (see daddy, we’ve been using our lights) I also got some much needed chocolate.

We we huddled around our bikes mixing up our respective munchie mix (a raisin bran based trail mix of sorts) when we were approached by the IGA store owner Skipp. I thought for sure he was going to ask us to move along since we’d been there a while and I was parked close enough to the automatic door sensor that my bike kept slamming the door shut on customers. He didn’t kick out out though, quite the opposite. He had done some missions work in Southern Africa and was excited to hear about Wasti and our trip. So we told him all about it, the whole time he was listening to us and greeting almost every customer by first name as they entered his store. He introduced us to one of his customers named Bernie who left, and then came back wanting to donate toward a patient on Watsi. Skipp headed into the store insisting we take some food compliments of IGA and came back loaded with bananas, granola bars, and Gatorade. We gladly accepted, thanked him profusely, and then hit the road.

Thanks Skipp and IGA!

We sat at the McDonald’s for a while, doing bloggy things and all that jazz. It takes forever to do blog entries. We left around four, looking at the map and seeing that we had, of course, another major climb ahead of us. We had three options that had elevation profiles. I decide to let Lizzy choose. Either we go the steeper but shorter route, or we go one of the longer and less steep routes. She chose shorter, I didn’t complain. When we got to the turn off for that climb however, my heart melted. It was at least 11% grade in the shallower parts, complete with switchbacks, mosquitoes, and dense forest so that we couldn’t see if we were making any progress. Lizzy rode on ahead without me. I stopped and started pushing my bike up the hill. I have only been given two knees, and I’d like to keep them.

What is this plant? We think it could be Virginia Creeper. It takes over everything

We followed Gordon back to his house and he let us do our laundry and shower. Unfortunately, his wife was out of town that day. Lizzy and I were both bummed because–based on how he talked about her, the great titles on her bookshelves, and her fantastic garden–we really wanted to meet her. Gordon said she was working on putting together a charity that provides new school shoes for kiddos in need in the area, and there are a lot of kiddos in need out here. We had a long chat about the coal industry and the effects fraking is having on the water table in Western Virginia. Gordon puts water lines into homes. A lot of places that used to run on well water out here now have water piped in now due to the leakage of natural gas. In some places, he said, you can hold a match up to the water faucet and it will ignite. Gordon also showed us some fantastic pictures of his bicycle tour across Virginia when he was a senior in high school.

In the morning, he sent us off with apples, bananas,and granola bars and bellies full of breakfast. We thanked him, and headed toward the hills. This time, however, we were going down!!! It was so beautiful, the misty clouds were all caught up in the valleys below, which were acting like pudding bowls. We descended into the fog and made it out to a gas station/McDonald’s for coffee. After a descent loiter, we headed back to the scoots where we had earned the attention of a gang of motorcyclists. One looked at Lizzy, “you’ve got a flat there honey baby.” We have officially entered the South.

Unfortunately, we were out of patches, which is a long story. And we were out of replacement tubes. Somehow, Lizzy got a hold of someone who has a bike shop who has a customer who does bike touring who had a friend driving through the area who would have a tube or two on him. The friend, Kendall, drove all the way up from Tennessee to bring us tubes, but we failed to mention that we would need fatter tubes 700×36 instead of skinny road tubes 700×28. So, Kendall left us in the parking lot and drove out to a couple different places, eventually coming back with two tubs and patch kits. He refused to take any money from us, and after making sure every thing was installed to spec, and letting us use his high end floor pump, he wished us well and drove away.

We were flabbergasted by his kindness, and ecstatic to be back on the asphalt, especially since Kendall had told us that it wouldn’t be too bad of a climb the rest of the way into Tennessee. It was a gorgeous ride into Kingsport, and it wasn’t too steep either. We got pictures at the TN sign and peddled through town marveling at the flatness. It was the first place we’d been in days that had streets running left and right with no cliffs. That flatness quickly disappeared though. We made it as far as Fall Branch before the combination of ominous looking sky and fatigue caught up with us.

Ain’t nothing like church camping

We slept well under the cover. The storm, although loud, never really materialized into rain. We took off early that morning in hopes of making it to North Carolina.

Part A of A and B

It’s a bit hilly out here

West Virginia, or Virginai

We ran into this waterfall the other day

Fall in Oregon is fantastic, it’s like a second spring. Everything turns green and wet again after a dry summer. There are also loads of apples, pears, walnuts, and pumpkins to be had along with their corresponding baked goods. Lizzy and I talked a good hour about all the different types of cookies my momma makes for her famous Christmas platters, but alas, it is only mid August.

Beautiful wildflowers

West Virginia, or maybe Virginia

The Judy Gap blunder

The Appellations are very steep, but have deep valleys that run North and South. If you are following one of the valleys the roads are kind to you, but anytime you have to go East or West you must cross an excruciatingly steep ridge, like we did going over the Judy Gap.

We followed one of these valleys into the deepening afternoon, knowing that it would be difficult to find a place to camp where we wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked by hill people dogs or shot at, and we knew that we were miles from any sort of settlement. For about an hour that ride I was fighting with myself. I was frustrated that a silly thing like taking a wrong turn could get me so worked up and my mind started buzzing through every mistake I have ever made… Yatta yatta, you know how that goes.

I said a little prayer, and at the very moment that I decided not to worry, an old man pulled over in a pickup and offered us one of his many cabins to sleep in that night. Furthermore, his home was right exactly where we needed to go and exactly the miles that we needed too.

Sweet digs, thanks Ray

Lizzy fit right in at Windsong Cabin

William points to the Devil’s Backbone

We left the Carrs’ around one or so, and made it seven miles before the sky opened up again. We were fortunately at a gas station, so we had a little bit of an overhang to shelter us from the ferocious downpour. Some motorcyclists stopped there to hide from the rain as well and struck up a conversation with Lizzy, then invited her to join them for drinks. I said I’d be over in a bit and called my momma.

Butterflies are common around here. My favorite are the blues ones, but I haven’t got a pic. yet

We’ve been in and out of Virginia so many times

We left early that morning, still trying to regain our lost miles acquired from my navigational error and literally rode all day. We were in the total boon docks at this point. No surviving towns. No cell service. We were on a nicely paved, single lane road complete with steep, heart stopping grades, bug-eyed dogs (crazed beagley-looking things, pitt bulls, several Pyrenees etc.)

It was absolutely gorgeous. I didn’t manage to get any pictures because I was too busy gawking at everything, and I don’t think pictures would do it justice anyways. We had been planning at stoping at the town marked Zenith on the map, but when we got there we discovered that Zenith has been long defunct. I was disappointed, but not completely suprised, so we rode on. Up and over an extremely steep eye boggling, knee straining grade, down the other side, past a lone motorcyclist, and then down to a junction called Rock Camp. To my satisfaction, I espied a beautiful church pavilion and made straight toward it.

We weren’t sure what the next day would bring, we only knew that we were safe and comfortable once again (three cheers for Virginia!) and that we really needed to use the Internet. It is absolutely beautiful in these parts, but in order to survive it you have to be as tough as the landscape around you. We can tell that quality in the people we have met in the Virginias. Along with that toughness however, is a overwhelming recognition of humanity and hardship, kindness and generosity. Just like the mountains surrounding us that maybe even get me a little claustrophobic, the first experience of boon dock Virginias was a little intimidating, but now we know better. The are deep valleys of goodness here, and I will write more about that in part B of this week’s blog.

Until then, thanks again everyone for all of your support. My chronic homesickness is flaring up again when I think of all of you at home, but it is good to know that this country is our home too. Everyday we have an amazing opportunity to meet new people to add to our growing list of friends and family. It certainly helps to think of that as we start each day’s ride.

If you haven’t joined our team yet, please do! You can see the faces and read the stories about everyone who’s medical treatment has been funded with WBD Team contributions.

Thanks again, Stink out

…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