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on such a winter’s day; all the leaves are brown and the sky is grey

So, we had been in contact with Watsi as we got closer to San Francisco, and planned to have lunch there on Friday.

Stink looked up times and fare for the ferry the night before, and we had just enough people money to get us there and back. People money being cash that people give us on the side of the road and at gas stations, that we use for bike parts, mexican dinners, and ferries.

That morning, we got up early, hung about, and drank copious amounts of Aunt Sharon’s coffee. She has a 20 year old espresso machine that we made full use of.

mornings at the kenyon’s

Around ten or so, we hoped on our nakey bikes and zipped down to the ferry terminal. Minutes later, we were boarding and finding some seats with plenty of leg room, agreeing that this is how airplane travel should be done.

the babes all buckled in and on board

It was about an hour to SF, and we stepped off the boat and right into downtown. We had a quick zip over to Watsi HQ and were greeted by the growing team.

you probably can’t tell…but this is the bikes hanging out at Watsi.

After we said hi to everyone, we all walked en masse to the food carts and Trader Joe’s down the road. Stink & I both got some dope wraps, and made our way back.

Everybody crowded around for lunch and asked questions and we told them about the ways in which we had been telling folks about Watsi for the past six months.

I was talking so much that when I started in on the second half of my wrap, I looked up and realized everyone else was already done eating. So I picked up the pace and horked down the rest of it, under the watchful eye of like, fifteen other people.

watsi whosi whatsi

Grace hooked us up with some print materials, photography and stories from their most recent trip to Wuqu’ Kawoq, a clinic for indigenous peoples in Guatemala. Sara grabbed a couple shirts for us, so we could rep Watsi on the fly. And then, soon enough, we were saying bye, till next time, when we have the hankering for adventure and want to do some good along the way.

After Watsi, I insisted that we go to Chinatown for a final farewell goodbye hum bao run. Then, as I was sweating buckets just pushing my bike up one of a series of increasingly steep hills, I remembered why one does not take biking around San Francisco lightly.

Chinatown alleyway

But we made it there, the sights and smells familiar and reminiscent of all the previous Chinatowns we had scooted through. We did our usual hunt for odd produce, mochi treats, cell phone charm dangly thingys, and all the bakeries we could find. I’ll have to say, the best bao we’ve had still has to be from the shop in Cleveland, Ohio. Go figure.

And, after months of searching, I even found the most perfect cell phone dangly thing. I’d say we had a pretty successful final run.

We rolled, downhill, back to the ferry, bellies full of bao, off-brand mochi, and really strange drinks that taste like over sweet bread (a can of wintermelon tea… not sure I’ll ever go for one of those again).

The next day, Halloween, I had plans to meet up with my long lost Aunt Victoria (who was adopted away as a babe, and only recently came in contact with the rest of the crazy Trickey family tree).

I dressed up in my best pirate hat and rolled out to meet her at Starbucks in Vallejo. Her boyfriend, Doug, and dog Tilly (Tillamook) were there too, so it was a great family reunion/first meeting.

very serious cyclist

We hung out and talked for hours, finding many similarities between us, and sharing a love for adventure and animals. Eventually though, I had to get going to go pack up my bags and head to Napa, where I had arranged a Warm Showers host for the night.

We said our byes, and promised to meet up again. I’ve got a cool new Aunt. Anyways, I rolled back to Stink’s Aunt Sharon’s house and started getting my junk together. Her Aunt Becky had come by too, to deliver a letter from my friend Timmy, and to say bye.

Finally I was ready to go, and said bye to Sharon, Wes, Lillian, and little Nate (who would not come give me a hug, you stinker). Then, I said bye to the Stink herself, for the first time in six months! Crazy! But yeah, I’m sure I’ll be seeing her around once I’m home.

I scooted off, and pretty quickly found myself in Napa (I didn’t know how long or when I was going to meet New Aunt Victoria, so didn’t plan for a full day of riding). I got to my host, Lindy’s house and right away gave her a hug and fell in love with her dogs, Marty & Gidget.

Lindy, Marty, & I

We hung out, I showered and put on my pirate costume (I wouldn’t miss Halloween for nothing!) and Lindy’s friend, Linelle, came over to hand out candy with us. Linelle and I ended up walking over to a Tunnel of Terror a few blocks away, which was fun, but not at all scary. I’m such a party pooper.

Lindy made this great vegan meal of lentils, a fresh coleslaw, and avocado burritos. This lady can cook!

Around 8:30 or so, we gave out the last of the candy, another successful Halloween in the books, and then sat around and chatted about life and such.

I zonked out on the livingroom floor and was super cozy. The time changed that night, so I woke up early the next day and we had coffee and yummy breakfast (Lindy’s homemade muesli and jams and toast, yum). She even sent me off with a jar of her plum & pear jam, and took photos of me and her before I took off (she’s a graphic designer, so they look really nice, despite my goofy self being in them).

mm, good jam

goof

So, yup, that was a good day. I scooted out to Calistoga and ate lunch outside the library. I totally recognized the gas station in town from the previous tour (when Stink & her sister Heather & I rode up to Port Angeles, WA, then down the coast to Vallejo). I’m getting a lot of that deja vu now, heading north.

some sights along the way

I wore my pirate hat all morning and got laughs from the other cyclists scooting through the Napa valley. It was fun, but then I left it at a gas station for some other person to find & enjoy.

Towards evening, it started sprinkling and threatened to get worse, so when I saw a campable spot on the Alexander Valley Community  House porch, I took full advantage of it and pulled of the road.

It was nice and quiet and dark, and even had outlets to charge my phone and tablet. I stayed up for a bit reading, then fell asleep listening to the sound of the rain on the roof and in the gutters.

In the morning I rolled out to Geyser and got coffee at a shop there. I awkwardly tried to make friends with some of the locals, and did… okay. Haha.

redwood lumberyard

On the road, I ran into a fellow tourist heading north, Andrew, who you’ll find out more about later. 🙂 At this point we just talked for a few minutes then passed each other by.

I arrived in Ukiah early afternoon. I had another Warm Showers host arranged, so had plenty of time to tool around and visit ALL of the grocery stores in town.

In the Safeway I had a funny conversation with an elderly lady who was checking in the mirror to make sure she didn’t have any tp stuck to her pants. She said it happened to her once and was so embarrassing that now she checks every time!

I also went to the bike shop in town, Dave’s Bikes, and restocked on patches. I ended up having to go back over there later to get a spare tube (the ones I had had too many holes in them to bother) and the owner, Dave I presume, gave me some extra patches for free. THANKS DAVE!

rando photo intermission

My host that night was Justus, a super cool dude who lived right downtown. We hung out and talked books, bikes, and everything in between. Eventually he had to go off rugby practice so I had the house to myself to eat dinner and watch Netflix like a proper human.

Later, his friend came over and we all sat around and had a good time, drinking some flat shocktop and some really good winter ale.

But then it was sleepytime, and I zonkered out. In the morning, Justus had to lead a bible study, then head off to work, teaching elementary students at a school nearby.

He brought by some bagels and just let me head out whenever I was ready.

Eventually I dragged myself away, and scooted out to Willits, and loitered around in a McDonald’s for a bit… and maybe ate like four pies.

I talked with this guy Mark who was just flabbergasted by the trip we’d accomplished, and said with that amount of energy I could have built a couple houses. Dang it. All this work and I don’t even get a house out of it!

so we meet again!

I headed out again, and was in contact with Stink’s Ma, who was gunna meet up with me on her way down to pick up Stink. Unfortunately though, her road out to 101 ended up turning to gravel, then closing entirely, so we missed each other. Bumm.

I did get out to Laytonville, at a late lunch of ramen on the side of the road, which was nice because I was cold as well as hungry, then scooted farther up into the hills.

I stopped up at a big domed gravel hut building thing and crept into the bushes to set up the tent and hide my bike. It was getting pretty chilly out, and I was at a high elevation, so I got on all my cozy clothes before climbing into bed.

In the morning it was so cold I didn’t want to get out of my sleeping bag. Eventually I dragged myself out and began to pack up. But the tent was covered in ice and my bike was frosted over. My fingers were burning with the chill, so it took me a good while to get all packed up.

frozoni

I scooted on a quarter of a mile to a rest stop and took full advantage of the hand dryers in the bathroom. Ouch!

I talked with some folks there, one being this gal Sarah, who was admiring my scoot. She had biked the TransAm before and had just continued traveling after finishing that, falling in love with the road.

Further along the road, I met up with Andrew again, and we teamed up to bike to Gaberville together. He’s a fellow vegan/gay/biking enthusiast/person, so we had plenty to talk about.

In Gaberville, we stopped at the grocery store, where I asked if I could use the bathroom and/or fill my water bottle, but was given a very rude negative response… I think they’re sick of transients there…

We went a block further to the Subway and I showed Andrew the ropes for ordering a bomb vegan sandwich and we porked out.

Another cyclist, Kane, joined us for lunch. He’s heading north to south though, so we gave each other tips for the road ahead.

cycle scooting pal

Andrew & I decided to scoot out to the Burlington campground in the redwoods, where Kane had stayed the night before. Back on the road, we soon took the exit for the Avenue of the Giants, and scooted along under the towering trees, centuries old, and impressively looming above us.

We found the campground and got a hiker/biker spot for five bucks a piece. I walked around and collected firewood from the fire pits at empty sites, and soon had a small blaze going.

home sweet

Andrew rode off in search of a mythical grocery store a mile away, but came back empty handed. The myth remained just that.

We cooked up a nice pot on the fire of black beans thickened with mashed potatoes, and topped our burritos with bbq sauce, carrots, and nutritional yeast. Yum!

As we were cooking dinner, more cyclists started showing up. Everyone else was heading south, but it was all good. We talked with some and shared space by the fire.

In the morning, I woke before six and felt like getting up and starting the fire again. It was still dark as I fumbled around and got the small blaze going again.

It was worth it though, as it quickly warmed my chilled hands. I packed up my tent, made some tea, and was starting in on some oatmeal too, when one of the camp hosts came by, abruptly asked where I had found the log that was currently crackling in the flames, and when I told him I had just found it laying around in the campground, he told me to “immediately get some water and put it out”. Oops. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.

cycle scoot all packed up and ready to go

After finishing my breakfast, writing a birthday card to my dad, and packing up my junk, I was cold, but ready to go.

Andrew knew of a Starbucks in the next town, 28 miles away, so we made it a goal to get there and get a fancy vegan frappucino (he totally had to show me the ropes… I’ve only ever just gotten the hot coffees there).

avenue of the giants

corn doggie

It was a nice ride, though I made us stop a bunchto do things like take a photo with the big corn, and get blackberry popsicles from the best honor system roadside produce stand in the world, as if I wasn’t frozen enough yet…

mmmbrrr

legit

When we finally reached Starbucks, Andrew insisted he get my drink, using his green status gift card (which basically means you can free refills of hot or iced coffee), then we sat about, doing what cyclists do best, loiter, use wifi, and charge their gadgets. Good times indeed.

So, I’m gunna end this post there, and update y’all in a few day with more tales from the road.
Love love,
eLizzybeth

Well, I know that I was supposed have signed off for good, but I had recount the last few days before Lizzy hit the coast. We had made some very last minute plans to stay with some of my extended family about 50 miles from Rivendell. This was a good thing, not only because we had the opportunity to visit Paige and Adam, but also because we were completely disgusting. I’m talking over a week’s riding without showers or clean laundry. Fortunately, Paige and Adam are fantastic folks and didn’t mind having us even though we both resembled Pig Pen from the Peanuts. We had some time to kill at a St. Arbucks before Paige got out of school and we were able to squeeze in one last interview before heading home. Paige put her culinary skills to the test and whipped up some stuffed peppers for dinner, and then entertained us with stories from school, and an interesting revelation concerning her dad’s past mullet. Paige is on my extremely long list of favorite people. She’s spunky, good at math, plays cello and viola, and is generous. I really enjoyed our time with them (As always).

We had planned to pop in at Rivendell the following morning to visit with the folks that made my bicycle. Little did I know, but my mom had called all the Riv folks and insisted that she buy all of us lunch! She had initially planned to keep that on the DL, but she ended up and telling us so that we would plan on getting there during lunch. I was shocked to hear this! At first, maybe even a little embarrassed, but I soon got over that.

Mr. P

We got up fairly early the next morning to eat oatmeal and walk Paige to orchestra class (more so to embarrass her in front of all her cool friends but it didn’t really work). We had fifty miles to ride and four hours with a headwind before lunch, but we made it! It was perhaps a little awkward at first. The Rivs thought we were coming the next Wednesday, and well, let’s face it–Lizzy and I aren’t really social butterflies, but as always with Rivendell, it all worked out. Everyone was grateful for our delicious lunch and said mom was awesome. I agree. We had a genuine blast. There are few companies that I believe in as fully as Rivendell; they make a quality a product, that’s for sure, but they do much more than that. Grant Peterson, founder of RBW, is a great author and an all ’round good guy. He took the time to chat with us–and I mean hours–and give us an assignment to word associate with each state. He even rode my bike around the block, and didn’t bat an eye at the arrival of more of my family (two aunts and two pesky cousins) who had come to pick us up from Rivendell. Overall, it was another good experience at Riv. I was going to write more about them, but I think I’ll leave it that as I wouldn’t want this to become a shameless plug. But, if your looking for the last bike you will ever buy, check out their website www.rivbike.com

We left Walnut Creek in a real live automobile and watched the ‘hoods and city streets streak away, with it my last official tour miles. We took harbor at my family’s house (the Kenyon’s) and had a relaxing evening complete with Napolie’s pizza and a rare appearance from my cousin Will who is finishing his schooling at Cal Maritime. Since he’s always off working on calculations, running tugboats, or driving ships to Singapore–it is always a treat when he is able to carve out some time for his smelly bicycle cousin.

It was good to be there. The next day I woke up early and went with my cousin Lilly to the barns to meet her newly tamed mustang Dexter. I should mention here that Lillian is 13 and spent the summer with my mom where she participated in the Oregon Teens and Mustangs program in which teenagers train wild mustangs. She and Dexter took 5th place out of the whole shebang! Needless to say we are all quite proud. I headed back home and began to make plans to go to San Fransisco for out lunch date with Watsi. We also made a traditional run to the Value Center with Aunt Becky to pick up some great bargains. Lizzy was in the market for a pirate ensemble. You know, for Halloween.

This is the old picture at Rivendell from our last tour

It was so good to be back home, or at least with my family which I consider to be home. I did notice though that I kept getting nauseous. I think that it was mostly because I wasn’t used to being in cars, but it also had something to do with being inside. Strange. I remembered one of our touring friends from Bufflo who said that when she came home from her last long tour she couldn’t sleep inside and had to set up camp in her back yard for a good two weeks before she could. Fortunatly I’m not that bad, but it is interesting to think about. The little things are the biggest changes; like having clean clothes to wear every day, or having a constant supply of water and electricity so that we didn’t have to be concerned about plugging phones in at every store we went to or stop at every gas station to make sure our bottles were filled. The most strange to me, however, was that it didn’t seem strange. Even now that I am at home, I don’t feel like I have been gone longer than a week, and at the Kenyon’s and Aunt Becky’s I felt the same way. I tried to keep mental notes of these things.

I think Lizzy is going to pick up from here.
–Haley

california dreamin

Welp, here we are. After the last blog post we left Starbucks and took over some of their outside tables for a ‘Nearly End of Tour’ Feast, which consisted of bagels, bbq sauce packets, avocado, and carrots, topped off with some mint oreos. A meal fit for kings! By some miraculous stoke of luck, we were also treated to left over slices of pizza and some sour gummy candy courtesy of teenagers-who-don’t-clean-up-after-themselves-and-take-pizza-and-candy-for-granted. You know the type.

The feast, having finished being feasted upon, was concluded, and we set out into the night to try and find a reasonable place to sleep. A school yard was entirely fenced in. A church was to bright with porch lights and a dog barked endlessly at our mere presence. Finally, further off our route than we would have liked, we found the perfect spot. A dark little hallways between two church buildings.

We leaned the bikes against the walls, pulled out our sleeping sacks and retired to the concrete. Though horizontal situated in the dark, sleep did not come. The stench of my shoes kept wafting over to Stink, gagging her nostrils with the tank fumes. My mind cycled through endless thoughts, fueled by the three or more cups of strong caffeine currently sitting in my belly.

But it was a nice place and a dark place and at least we didn’t feel like anyone was going to come by and bug us in the night.

In the morning, we discovered some less than pleasant things about our selected spot: maggots. Tons of maggots. Everywhere.

Coincidentally, one thing that you do not want to wake up and find that you have been rolling about in in the night is maggots. This may have also explained the stinky shoe issue, as stinky shoes + maggots = extra stinky.

Not really sure why exactly there were maggots everywhere, but we made peace with it, packed up, and headed back to the Starbucks for more coffee. (I think since the tour is nearly ending, we’ve been more lax about budget, as in, we haven’t been hitting up the McDonald’s as often. Plus, Starbucks generally has better wifi, and more often outlets for charging. Also their coffee doesn’t taste like hot butt).

At one point when I was outside and eating some munchie mix, a dude named Marty Mitchell came up and started chatting with me about what we were up to. He even offered  showers and laundry, but since we had yet to do any miles at all that day, we decided to decline. Mostly I just wanted to mention him here because I like his name.

Anyways, eventually we rolled out, and… ended up at the donut shop across the lot. Stink purchased a variety of delicious looking bits and we hung about for a minute outside. Another fella came up, interested in the scoots, and ended up giving a donation for Watsi.

Eventually eventually eventually we actually left the town and went on out way. I don’t really remember much of what may or may not have occurred that day. I’m fairly sure clowns were not involved though.

we stopped and napped at park though…

Towards the evening, we had finished up our miles for the day, but were riding on in search of a place to sleep. We just kept going and going and going, but, nothing calling out to us. The miles piled on, and we were getting bone tired.

Eventually we began to see signs for ‘The Civil War Revisited’ posted out along the roadside, and after a few short miles more, we found ourselves outside of a sprawling fairgrounds, with the sounds of fife bands floating to our ears. Could it be? Yes, another encounter with reenactment troops, though, we still had the obstacle of finding a way to actually get into the park.

While scouting the perimeter, Stink got a flat tire, which  we treated as another one of those which we just pump up and hope to limp a long till we have a good spot to stop and patch it. We navigated nearly the entire fenceline, till we were right about where we started, and found the entrance located there. We rolled in, acting like we were totally supposed to be there and hoping there was no security  or ticket booth.

Once in the clear, we located a nice pavilion with electric outlets and a countertop to sit on, and cracked open a can of beans for dinner. We could hear the sounds of the reenactment loudspeaker bellowing through the trees, but were so tired out that we didn’t even walk over.

There was some sort of dance event happening, and we drifted off to sleep with the sounds of do si do-ing in the distance.

In the morning thankfully there were no maggots, and Stink patched her tubes and we rolled off to the next town, Kerman, about 10 miles away.

We found a Wal-Mart / McDonald’s combo deal, and utilized their facilities to the max! I found some only slight expired fancy acacia juice drinks for a dollar, and some technically expired hummus to boot.

We took over a booth at Micky D’s and commenced a lengthy loiter.

After a few hours, we packed up our junk and headed back out to the bikes, which were thankfully still there, patiently awaiting our return.

There wasn’t much happening while we rode that day, just miles and miles of garbage strewn roads, and orange orchards and vineyards lining the road. This is how we know we’re in California.

As we were just about to enter the town of our goal for the day, I got a flat. We scooted a bit further to get away from the dogs that were after us, then pulled over to fix it up.

Turned out I had a hole right at the valve stem, which are nigh impossible to patch. Luckily, I still had a nice new spare tube (I think it was the one from our hero Kendall all the way back in Kentucky… maybe), so I switched them out real quick and we scooted the rest of the way in to town.

Just down the road we found a somewhat sketchy looking grocery store (‘State Food Supermarket’) and went inside. Towards the back of the store there was a produce section, fully stocked, but totally vacant of shoppers. We found some deals on fuji apples (59 cents a pound!) and loaded up.

Then… unfortunately, we found the cookie aisle and I had to get a package of off-brand oreos that I had never seen before, just to try it…. I also got a bag of sketchy looking animal crackers to round things off.

Outside, we sat on our bums, munching cookies and cans of beans, while eyeing a potential sleep church across the street. The off-brand oreos (Festy’s) were actually really good! The animals crackers, on the other hand, tasted like death and metal, and not the music.

We rolled across to scope out the church after dinner, but no luck. It was totally open in the back and even as we were standing there, people were walking through, using it as a short cut.

We ended up scooting back out to the edge of town, checking out first one place then another, just trying to find a dark and unpopulated spot to pass the night.

As we were looking at the back lot of one church, someone came out of the house adjacent and got into a car. As he drove past, we asked if the pastor was around and he said to go knock at that house.

We walked our scoots over, and as we approached the door, another car pulled up and some folks piled out. I told them that we were wanting know if we could throw the tent up there, and one young guy went in and asked the pastor (his dad) for us.

Approval was granted and off we went to build our home, in the small patch of grass snugged between two buildings.

After the pastor finished up the counseling session he was currently in, he came out to greet us and see what were up to, even opening up the church to let us use the bathroom and clean up a bit.

He was proud of church and his sons, you could tell, as he pointed out how the young guy who had gone in and fetched him was ‘an excellent drummer’.

He brought out a couple of folding chairs too, which was a nice gesture. You don’t think about it much, but we basically have been sitting on the ground these past months, so something like a chair isn’t taken for granted.

After they all went back to their house, I promptly pulled up a chair to the hose, and gave my feet a good scrubbing… it had been awhile since our last shower, and my feet are stinky on the best of days.

Since it was such a small patch of grass and the hose was laid out just there, and the fact that they told us to our tent in just that spot, we felt it was safe to assume that there was no sprinkler system.

Never assume there is no sprinkler system.

again.

At two A.M. we are promptly awoken by the sounds of water being blasted from previously well hidden nozzles. We jump out of the tent, directly into the spray, and quickly  drag it away, then run back to grab the bikes.

Unfortunately, I had locked mine up, so I had to stand there in the dark and the wet trying to roll in the right combo, all while stuck in a dazed half-awake shock.

But persistence prevails, and I got it out of the line of fire without getting too soaked. We shook the water off our now sodden sleeping bags, and tiredly climbed back into bed.

Annnd, within two minutes , the second set of sprinklers kicked on and a pool of water was quietly making it’s way across the concrete towards our newly relocated tent. Up and out of bed again to drag it further away, then finally, finally, we could get back to sleep.

In the morning, we rolled up the soggy tent, and scooted back to town to once again hit up the State Food Supermarket. It was five after eight when we pulled up, but people were milling about the parking lot. The store hours were posted from 8 till 10, but all the lights were still out inside, not appearing to be ready to open at all.

So, we scooted to the gas station across the road, and got some piping hot coffee instead. Maybe also a bag of bbq potato chips. Don’t judge me.

A gal there nearly mistook me for her ‘white friend who also has a bunch of stuff on her bike’. I think that might be code for homeless.

Anyways, coffee got got, and we sat about sipping and reading on the curb. Stink eventually walked back over to the sketchy-mart for some mexican pastries, which I eyed enviously.

But eventually we did need to get back on the road. That day was more of the same, riding past orchards and vineyards and dogs who maybe don’t want to actually bite you but are fairly good at giving the impression of it as they charge after you.

We didn’t have far to go, just 40 miles or so, because Stink had gotten a hold of her cousin in Tracy, CA and we had been invited to stay with them the next night (and they were only about 80 miles out).

So we moseyed along, and eventually stopped at a McDonald’s for, what else, pies & wifi. We sat there, trying to tune out the children’s television programming that was being broadcast right above our heads.

We got bored and decided to just finish up our riding though, so we headed out. We ended in Newman, and pulled into a park, full of the smells of fine bbq wafting through the air.

I had to patch a slow leak on one of my tubes, and Stink asked perhaps how did I feel about going out for dinner, seeing how this was to be her last night of camping out, and also we like food.

We settled on pizza, and decided to try to scope out a place to sleep before going to dinner. We roamed around the streets, looking at park after filed after school after church after baseball dugout, but to no avail.

Eventually we did find an alleyway behind a church that seemed safe-ish, and so that being settled, we returned to more pressing matters, namely, buying and eating copious amounts of pizza.

On our way to the shop, a lady out walking called out to us so we zipped back around and starting talking with her.

She was all excited to see ladies in bikes, as she rode too, but never could find any gals to ride with. She had us walk over to some street lamps and conducted an impromptu interview, then asked if her and her daughter could join in on Wednesday. Which we then had to explain that we wouldn’t really be around in Wednesday, given that we’re never around anywhere for more than a night… I don’t think she quite understood what we were up to, but she was very excited nonetheless, and eventually we extracted ourselves to go and get our sweet pizzaly reward.

Pizza Plus boasted a ‘giant’ veggie pizza, so we went for that, just having them put the cheese all on one side. We sat at a small table next to the windows and commenced reminiscing about all the silly/strange/scary/super things that was had seen during this adventure. It’s still had to wrap my head around what we’ve been doing for the past six months.

But then the pizza came and all other thought processes slowed to a halt as we made a dwarf out of this giant.

It was good and night timey by the time we squeezed out the doors, perfect for sneaking off to bed. We walked the bikes, enjoying a rare nighttime stroll, and soon were rolling them to our chosen home.

A dog barked (or maybe was already barking) at our arrival, and continued his verbal assault from the other side of the fence as we pulled out our sleeping bags and laid out on the concrete under the full-ish moon.

And the dog kept barking.

I zonked out pretty quickly, probably a pizza induced coma, but around two in the morning I woke to hear the dog’s methodological barking still going strong. It was a three note set, put on endless repeat, “Arf, arf, arf. Arf, arf, arf. Arf, arf, arf,” forever.

We were both really annoyed and just wanted to go back to sleep, but his incessant barking was putting a damper on our beauty rest.

Somehow, I must have drifted back off, as I woke up with the sun a few hours later, and the dog was still barking. At least he’s persistent about his passions…

We rolled to a dinky little gas station and sat out front, sipping coffee, muching munchables, and talking with strangers about cycling and how crazy we were.

After about half an hour, the cash register dude from inside came out and asked us to move from where we were sitting because he didn’t want us to get hit… which may or may not be true, so we just headed out, being done with our coffees and breakfast and all.

We had only the other 40 miles to go that day, so we just did it. There wasn’t much of anywhere to stop anyways, so we cruised all the way into Tracy and immediately hit up the bathroom at a Starbucks.

We had hours to kill before Stink’s cousin, Paige, would be getting out of school, so we loitered it up, even working in an interview with the local paper.

I’m gunna leave off here, and let Stink write about her cousin’s house and, per request, the next day wherein we traveled to Rivendell Bicycle Works, of which Stink is the biggest fan.

sneak preview!

So, bye.

-Lizzbuttsa

yeah… we didn’t take many pictures for this part…

Riding off into the sunset

The final weeks of this tour are here. It is an odd feeling. Lizzy and I were never quite sure about how we would end–whether we would stop at Watsi in California and get a ride back to Oregon, or ride the 600 miles of coastline back to McMinnville. Over the past few weeks however, we both realized that I was going to take the previous option and Lizzy the later. It has been an absolutely fantastic tour and I have greatly enjoyed traveling with my friend, but home is beckoning and my body is telling me that I should be grateful I made it this far! So I am cherishing these last days as my part in WBD is drawing to a close. That being said, California has proven to be a tough ride. Deserts, wind, and mountains have all tried to prolong our journey, and may yet succeed.

We had a wonderful vacation at the Grand Canyon. My mom picked us up at the South Entrance and we had the wonderful fun of riding in a car for a bit! It was very good to see my momma and my grandpa Hal and it was thoroughly entertaining to do all of the “tourist” activities. Lizzy had never been to the Canyon before and couldn’t quite get her mind around it. I suppose no one really can.

Two goons at a canyon

The next day we took the bus out to Hermit’s Rest and made friends with Insa the bus driver. She gave us several tips about finding employment in National Parks and hiking. She suggested that we take the trail from Hermit’s Rest down to Dripping Springs. We took her advise and were rewarded for it! There were several areas of the trail where a false step could result in an unfortunate tumble off a a two thousand foot cliff, but we were careful and such calamities were avoided. We made it to Dripping Springs, and then hobbled the 3.5 miles back up to the rim. The last mile or so of trail was cut from the limestone and was a steep staircase. Lizzy and I found out that though we are bicycle fit, we are not stair-climbing fit! It took about a week to recover from the strain, and of course, my mom felt fine.

The cliffs of insanity

Leg burner

We all went out to dinner at the Bright Angel Lodge as per tradition and then bustled off to bed. Momma and Grandpa Hal were leaving the next morning to visit family in Las Angeles and were leaving around nine the next morning. Our hotel room looked like a bomb had gone off, so we had some work ahead of us. Momma suggested that we hitch a ride with them to Williams the next morning. We didn’t need much convincing!

So big

The next morning we packed everything away, rode our bikes to the rim to get a picture, no then threw everything in the back of the time portal machine (I mean the car) and zoomed away. It was amazing! Not only because there were three generations of Hanagans in one place, but also because cars can drive over hills and mountains and through wind and rain, and the people inside of them are none the wiser. We actually ended up riding to Kingman.

That was our first real cheat in a long time. We hitched 12 miles in a storm evacuation in Wyoming, then 25 miles by train through some sketch neighborhoods in New York, 10 miles to Tim ‘n’ Min’s through another storm in coal country, 20 miles to grandpa Trickey’s in Oklahoma, and then about a hundred in Arizona. That’s a total of 167 miles if I’ve done my math right–and no, we never include those miles in our mileage chart or pledge updates. That’s pretty good in my book.

Momma let us off at the Cracker Barrel and we ate a bunch of homestyle veggies and coffee for lunch as we watched a storm rage outside. It was there, in the Barrel, that we had to decide the route through California. Originally we had wanted to go through Death Valley and Yosemite to get to San Fransisco, but we kept hearing warnings about weather and such. After a highly confusing, sleepy, too-much–coffee/too-much-information-to-consider debate, we ended up drawing for our choice. We drew the less mountainous southern route through the Mojave Desert.

From Kingman we took Old 66. We made a quick stop at a bike shop so Lizzy could get a really cheesy pedal to replace one of hers that had worn out. We call it the ghetti-pedi, short for ghetto pedal. I was able to make some much needed adjustments on the Hunq as well. Laziness I am prone to when it comes to fixing my bike. The plumber’s house always leaks as the saying goes. It was a good thing that we took the time to fix the scoots because we found ourselves on top of a mountain that evening. Out of nowhere we had a descent of 6% grade for no less than 12 miles. Honestly. There were warning signs and truck ramps. I’ve ridden down many mountains in my day, but I have never dropped so much elevation so consistently. Since we had lost about 6,500 feet, it was much warmer at the bottom. It was also Nevada at the bottom. And casinos. And mosquitoes. And hot. And threatening rain. And traffic-y. Basically all the parts of summer we were fine saying goodbye to last month. It is a long story of how we found a place to stay that night, but it is sufficient to say that after a whole lot of aimless running about we found a camp spot which we paid for (curtesy of Adam Tricky, thank you). I had a restless night for several reasons, not least of which the blinding lights of the casino across the river. I was also unnerved by the fact that the river’s height kept changing. We found out later that we were really close to a dam. The next morning was rough. I’ll skip over it.

This is a town, or was

The desert was a good choice. Actually I’m sure either way would have been a good choice, but there is nothing easier than camping in the desert! No condensation in the morning, it’s really easy to find flat places, and since much of Old Hwy 66 was asked out from flash flooding and was closed, we didn’t really have much trouble finding places where we could pull off the road and sleep. It was great.

A desert camp

I love riding on roads that are closed because there is no need to worry about traffic, and if you want, you can ride anywhere on the road, even the far lane. The less great thing is that the majority of 66 is ghost town territory. Water is scarce, so we had to make sure to carry a lot. This is when the basket comes in handy! It was sad though, riding through wore out and trashed town after town.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We also made it to California about that time, which means that since May the 8th of this year, Lizzy and I have ridden our bicycles in each and every one of the 48 continental United States. I guess you could say that is an accomplishment if you care about that sort of thing. It’s absurd really. I certainly can’t comprehend it. Honestly, since this way of life is so normal to me now, thinking about it is just, well, not really that big of a deal. Oh, I guess we did that thing. But since I have dedicated an entire paragraph to the observation of our velocopedic travels across artificial, political lines, I suppose I do think it is an accomplishment worth notice.

Cali-for-ni-a numb a 48 yo!

We made it to Barstow where Lizzy’s wonderful Aunt Leli met us, insisted she got us a hotel room (thank you, thank you, thank you!), and take us out to dinner. It was so much fun. Lizzy and I laughed about it later because we chose to go out to Mexican food and eat burritos, which is kind of funny because we have been eating burritos for dinner for the last month! It is always lovely to see family when your off on an adventure, and so we were both uplifted to see Leli even though I’d never met her before.

Lovely Leli

The next morning we drank our respective weights in free hotel coffee, and managed to procrastinate our departure until exactly noon. It was dreary riding. Heavy traffic, heavy winds. A strange fellow pulled over to the side of the road and took pictures of us struggling up a hill and drove away. That peeved me. I just think it’s rude to take someone’s picture without asking permission.

We turned off of the busy road to a beautiful, albeit windy, road that paralleled a gigantic space telescope and a solar power station. We camped out there in the desert, and from the tent I could see the green glow of the space spying station.

The wind persisted the following morning, it was hard work. I wouldn’t have made it if Lizžy hadn’t let me listen to The Lord of the Rings on her iPod. (LotR is the BEST!! This will be my 8th time through). To get off of the freeway and avoid Bakersfield, we chose to go into the Sierras and ride around Lake Isabella. I hadn’t anticipated the amount of climbing this route involved. Though I’m glad we chose to go this way, it was by no means easy.

A Hunq and the desert

We ran into some wonderful German, lady tourists at a gas station and a solo, perma-touring man all at the same time. He told us that he was just thinking about how he never saw ladies touring when all of the sudden, four appeared from nowhere. Hmmm. I had a great chat with our new German friends. They are friends who are both self employed. For the last twenty years they have taken time off of work and bicycle toured the world. They like the southwest and American desert because there isn’t a desert in Germany. I must mention that they also had some terrible, cheap, convenience store cookies that for some reason one MUST eat whilst touring. We all left about the same time: the Germans toward Barstow and the Getti-peddlers toward Lake Isabella.

What! Ladies can tour without men?!

I wanted to rummage through this old trash so much!

We ended up taking highway 155 over Greenhorn Mountain. I didn’t exactly realize that there was a mountain to climb over until we we on the base of it. The choice was to go over the mountain, or go all the way Southwest to Bakersfield which would have made the past two days’ struggles pointless. Though the mountain boasted warning signs at the beginning of the ascent that begged cars and trucks to turn back, and though a host of hunters hollered at us to turn around, and though the sun was setting, we of course decided to tackled this giant of a summit. We knew it would be steep, we didn’t know it’d be as steep as it was. I must admit, this was the first mountain that forced us to dismount and walk in stretches. It was so incredibly steep that there is no possibility to convey its steepness. I could list numbers like 11% or steeper, but these measures mean nothing to non-cyclists and non-civil engineers I suppose.

The traffic of hunters and woodcutters (mostly bearded men in four wheel drive trucks) waved at us, gave us thumbs-ups, or flashed fingers of how many miles we had to the summit. They were cheering for us, and that was nice. We did summit, just before sunset proper. The sun had long been behind the mountain though, and it was shadowy and freezing cold. We paused at the summit to turn on lights, don warm clothes, and put on our helmets. We took the decent, but not the whole way as we found a lovely–and did I mention free–Forest Service campsite that was fantastic and had a water source. What we did ride though was amazing. The sun was truly setting and the golden light was hitting the trees, already alight by themselves in full swing of the season. The result was a mountain on fire with light. Distant peaks rose in shaggy swirls of pinks and purples. Deer, startled by our downward flight, stopped to stare with curious eyes.

But it was cold. Very , very cold. Fall has found its footing at 6,000 feet. When we finally pulled into our perfect camp place, I proceed to pull on every shred of clothing I could muster. We made a hot soup and then zipped ourselves into the trusty tent.

Free camp on the mountian camping

The next morning I woke early to make tea and write, and get myself all hyped up about the massive decent that we would surely experience given the nature of the previous day’s climb. The ascent however, proved to be less than my extravagant imaginings. There were indeed some extremely steep places where I had to actually use my breaks, but it was more of a long, beautiful, winding trollop through cattle country. I got really hot since I’d left with a million layers on me. The valley below was literally dripping with fruit. I filled a pannier with road pomegranates and persimmons and–this is how you know my tour chapter is drawing to an end–I found a really nice horse blanket on the side of the road. I couldn’t just leave it there, so I decided to take it with me. So, even though it is ridiculous, I am carrying a horse blanket. What’s more ridiculous is that I realized that today is Friday, not Saturday. I have been living an hour (my phone didn’t catch the last time change) and a day behind the rest of the world. I had no idea.

So the sun sets again

Since we gained a day unexpectedly, we had time to stop at the local St. Arbucks so that I could write this blog post. We expect to be at Watsi on the 30th and so there I shall officially end my part in the Within Biking Distance Tour. A lot has changed in 6 months. I’m blond now, for instance. Thanks for that sun… I’m also freakishly tan in certain places. The other changes I suppose I will discover upon my return home. I have plans for my next stage in life but for now I am keeping them to myself, that is, plans outside of hugging my parents, snuggling with my dumb old dog, chatting with my Tessa Jo, visiting my sis and soon-to-be bro in law, and a train ride up to Bellingham to visit my other sisters Mary and Amanda, and of course, going home to my church family. I have no doubts about Lizzy’s ability to make it home on a solo tour. She is street smart, hearty, and determined. I know she’ll make it, and probably days ahead of schedule with many stories to tell.

Hopefully this is not too risqué, but I had to show off this tan!

I am grateful for this experience and for all of the help and prayers of family, friends, and strangers in and out of this country. Lizzy and I will be writing about that when we are both home. I am also greatful for Lizzy’s continual friendship. I don’t know who else would have put up with me for six months! Living under is type of continued stress for that length of time and maintaining our friendship is, at least to me, a greater accomplishment than biking the 48 states. Thank you all for everything. I bid you adieu and God’s blessing.

Friends forever