Day 33. 75 miles.

Rain, rain, and more rain.

Despite our wrinkled fingers, Piper and I rode side by side on the giant shoulder by the river and tried to keep our spirits up by any means possible. We told jokes, sang songs, and told stories to distract each other from the fact that we had been riding through a cold rain for hours on end.

Around 5 or 6pm, we finally beat the storm and found a bit of sunshine. We pulled into a park to cook dinner. The friendly maintenance man informed us that it would be okay for us to pitch a tent for the evening. We were asleep by sundown.

Day 32. 73 miles.

We crossed the Mississippi for the second time and entered Wisconsin. Green forested bulges of land and cliffs lined the river. We saw a park full of people, and rode over to ask for directions. We were a bit surprised to see a "Bike Wisconsin" van pulled up alongside the park, and many bicycles scattered across the lawn. We soon discovered that this was the starting location of a week-long bike tour for 831 riders. We chatted with some cyclists for awhile, snagged some better directions, and decided that running into such a large body of other cyclists must be a good omen.

A bit later, rain began pouring down. We pulled into a covered picnic area for some PB&J. Once the rain stopped, I pulled into a gas station and downed a cup of watery coffee.

After crossing another bridge over the Mississippi into Minnesota (which makes three states in one day), we found a rest area that allowed camping. We made fried eggs and toast for dinner.

Then it began to pour. We ran inside the information center, and the kind maintenance man/night watchman told us that we should sleep inside for the night. After the rain let up, we walked down to the beach and went swimming in the 75 degree river water at dusk. Pink lightning flashed in the distance.

Biking cross-country is such a fabulous way to spend the summer.

Day 31. 86 miles.

Nobody told us that Iowa has monstrous hills. We began the day with a killer 40mph downhill, then continued on a series of climbs and descents for the remainder of the day. The hills reminded me that I had become a bit spoiled with the mild terrain of the past few weeks, and that I had better prepare--both physically and mentally--for the Rocky Mountains that lie ahead. Despite the sheer pain of pushing hard up steep hills, the climbs felt good. Forcing my muscles to overcome gravity and continue pushing onward for 86 miles is both humbling and rewarding.

It also happened to be one of our most beautiful days, with sweeping fields and hilly landscapes lying beneath blue skies.



My only complaint of the day: the opossum/s that ran around and growled outside of our tent at night. I tried to scare it away from our food bag by shining a light in its direction, but it did not seem to mind. Instead, it continued to run around making noise and severely disturbing my sleep. Though it did not get the chance to take our food, it did get the chance to bother me throughout the course of the night. Adam neglected to wake up during the rustlings, and babbled relentlessly in his sleep.

Day 30. 68 miles.

A cold, wet morning dropped rain around us. We packed up the tent and hid under a pavillion for a bit longer, willing the rain to stop.

Eventually, we could no longer justify sitting under the pavillion, especially since the day before had been a low-mileage day. We ventured out into the weather, which felt a bit like riding through a big sponge.

The sky cleared around noon, and we pulled into Savanna, Illinois just before 3pm. We went to the post office and to a bike shop to run some errands.

86 North ran alongside the Mississippi River, and connected to a local road named "Blackjack," which carried us up to the top of a gorgeous hillside and winter alpine ski area. We passed by several farms and wildlife preserves. I stopped to say hi to the goats.

Day 29. 42 miles.

Shards of lightning tore apart the dark morning sky, and deafening cracks of thunder sent rumbles through the earth. Piper didn't want to leave the dry tent in exchange for the rain, but I was persistent. There ws a small window of opportunity where the rain stopped, and I was determined to use that moment to pack up and get on the road.

We rode through the rain from 7 to 10am, at which point we found a covered pavillion in a state park. We took shelter by the picnic tables to eat, read books, and hang out for the remainder of the day.

Day 28. 53 miles.

We checked out of the hostel and hung out with some other travellers until 12:30 or so. Getting out of Chicago was relatively easy following 64 West.

About 20 miles outside of Chicago, a man with a brown moustache leaned out of the passenger side window of an old green pickup truck to offer me some advice.

"You know, you really shouldn't be riding in the road. You should be on the sidewalk."

I looked to my right and saw large piles of dirt, enormous ditches, and orange construction signs.

"What sidewalk are you talking about?" I asked, motioning to the dirt piles. Piper grinned. He and I both knew that, A) sidewalks are for pedestrians, not cyclists, and, B) this town didn't really have any sidewalks.

We rode away. Then Piper broke another front spoke.

Day 27. 0 miles.

After toast with peanut butter and coffee, we caught a city bus heading South and got off at the Field Museum. We spent the day checking out exhibits detailing Native cultures from around the world, botany, geology, and the largest T-Rex skeleton named Sue. We stopped by a large fountain for ice-cream cones and went back to the hostel for more sleep. Zzzz...

Day 26. 85 miles.

Thunderstorms rolled in during the night. Cloud cover lingered in the morning, when I awoke to find hundreds if not thousands of little grubs crawling all over my handlebars and helmet, presumably licking the salty residue from my perspiration the day before. Gross.

Exhaustion crept up with us, after several days without a break. It was a coffee morning.

We rode towards Chicago, through Gary, Indiana, where large attack dogs barked and slammed their bodies into fences in attempts to gain access to the two lone bikers pedalling by. As we neared the city, sheets of warm rain plummeted into the streets. Road shoulders disappeared and the traffic speed and volume increased.

In the early afternoon, we entered Chicago. We rode North along the Lakeside park trail for the last 15 miles, until we snagged a left and pulled into our hostel. We paid for a couple of beds for the night, took showers, and grabbed a cab into town.

Before leaving on the trip, Piper's mom had bought him a $50 gift card for a restaurant meal. Taking the time to sit down for a full meal was absolutely fantastic. We took the subway back to our hostel with aching, full stomachs and crashed.

Day 25. 67 miles.

Today we met our first distance cyclist on the road. Aaron started pedalling from Los Angeles back in April. He hauled the same Bob trailer that served as the caboose on my bike, except he was carrying a whopping 120 pounds of gear (as a reference, Piper and I each carry about 75 pounds, including the weight of the bikes). He had all the frills--walkman and cassette tapes to listen to, multiple changes of clothing, and birkenstocks to wear while riding. On top of that, he had pedalled right through Colorado over the highest part of the Rockies. And he did it all without bike shorts. Wild.

Day 24. 42 miles.

We checked maps, cleaned our chains, and ate lunch with Carolyn. We waited for the hot part of the day to pass.

More fields. More flats. More sun.



Railroad tracks lined the left side of 6 West. The drone of trains coming and going filled the hours. The wind pushed against us. Piper found a large screw lodged into his rear tire, and we stopped to patch the tube underneath.

We slept in a motorcycle couple's backyard, with their trained army of attack mosquitoes.

Day 23. 96 miles.

We left the church and continued west along the flat expanse of Ohio's agricultural land. A cloudless sky hovered above the acclaimed amber waves of grain. Towns became few and far between, but the grade was in our favor and the breeze was mild. We covered quite a bit of ground with little effort.


We stopped for ice-cream cones in a small town named McClure, and then chased the sun as it proceeded to dip down towards the earth. We located a picture of a picnic table on the map, and aimed to camp at the park there. When we finally saw the picnic area, we were dismayed to discover the tables smack in the middle of a town, trapped between a heavily travelled road and an active set of railroad tracks.

We asked some firemen about alternate camping spots in town.

A man with grey hair sitting in a rolling office chair in the parking lot by the fire truck responded.

"Well, you could pitch a tent right here behind the station. There's a water tap and some electrical outlets over there, too."

Fantastic.

After a few minutes of chatting with the sociable firemen, another woman walked up.
"Excuse me, but are you two looking for a place to spend the night?"
"Why yes, in fact, we are."
"You should come to my house for the night. We have two extra beds and a shower that you are more than welcome to use."

Even more fantastic.

It turned out that Carolyn and her husband Vern parented a bike-touring son who pedalled from Ohio to Maine to Florida at the age of 19. Since then, they have hosted many touring cyclists. They were welcoming and kind, and gave us food to eat (which is a dangerous offer to give to bikers who have just pedalled 96 miles with full gear, and have the potential to completely demolish any available food supply).

However, the home-made chocolate chip oatmeal cookies were excellent.

Day 22. 50 miles.

I swerved left to avoid plowing through the day-old clump of fur and blood adhered to the center of the road shoulder. The unmistakable yet all too familiar scent of rotting flesh wafted from the steaming asphalt.

After taking a nap on the beach and a shower in the public restroom, Piper and I pedalled into the flats of Ohio. The sun thrust its scalding rays upon my skin, which attempted to resist the wrath of ultra violet by hiding under multiple layers of sunscreen.

Stunted by a lack of sleep the night before, our saddle time fell short of its usual duration. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the flat consistency of the landscape. There is something strangely spiritual about riding alongside fields that extend out into the horizon, while my feet circle around and around, inches above an unchanging river of asphalt.

We entered the small town of Fremont, and stopped at a church to ask if it would be okay to camp out in their field. They said yes without hesitation. We cooked grilled cheese with sauteed mushrooms and onions, and tomato soup for dinner.

Day 21. 82 miles.

One might think that riding through Cleveland, Ohio would take only a small portion of a day, leaving hours to push through other parts of the state. But the reality is that the city of Cleveland actually sprawls on for 80 miles.

But I do enjoy the urban areas. Time flies when there are constant obstacles to watch out for, twists and turns that throw you off of your route, and the wild energy of a dense body of people. I dig city riding.

After falsely exiting the city, we pulled over at a park above a marina on Lake Erie, and made a warm dinner.

I am beginning to feel as though I am not really on a biking vacation, but that I am actually taking an eating vacation. We go to lots of different places and eat.

And wow, do we eat.

I don't think I have ever eaten this much in my life, and Piper agrees. Tonight, Piper and I collectively polished off more than 3,000 calories for dinner alone.

We pushed on through a residential neighborhood, looking for a spot to spend the night. We found a city park and asked some police officers if we could pitch a tent for the night. They kindly informed us that we would be robbed and beaten by morning.

We decided to continue heading west, even though it was getting quite dark. I enjoyed riding at night, piercing the cool night air on a road free of the heavy day traffic. And in those last 10 miles, we broke our first Grand.

1,000 miles total.

Day 20. 82 miles.

"I hope there's a decent strip mall outside of Cleveland." --Adam Piper, Quote of the Day (taken completely out of context)

Pennsylvania's surprisingly extensive network of vineyards enveloped the landscape for hours on end. We stopped for a quart of fresh strawberries from a roadside stand. Although the calorie to dollar ratio of strawberries is low, the benefit of fresh berries was definitely greater than the cost.

The day of rest provided us with an incredible burst of energy today. It is amazing how well the human body can perform if you just listen to and comply with its requests--hunger, thirst, sleep, and rest. As the day progressed, we drew closer to Cleveland, but our high energy refused to fade. We knew that we would have to find a place to camp before we reached the denser urban area, but it was quickly becoming too late. Our options looked bleak. We saw a small family chiropractic office with a green backyard and thought, hey, it can't hurt to ask.

Our request was met by an excited yes, along with many questions about our journey. A worker named Julie said, "I guess you can stay in the lawn here if you really want to...or you could pedal another mile west and stay at my place where you'll have a fenced in backyard, a spot for a campfire, and warm showers."

It was a tough choice, but I think we made the right decision.

Day 19. 0 miles.

Perhaps the best part of this trip is re-learning solitude. Too often, I neglect spending time with myself, and I forget how to sit quietly and peacefully amidst the surrounding world of people and things. Every night on this trip, I have thought about how whole and beautiful it is to sleep outside in the fresh night air. I love bathing and doing laundry in a stream bed, and then air-drying in the sun. I love collecting wood sorrel, dandelion greens, and wild strawberries to snack on. I love taking the time to be outdoors and appreciate this earth that sustains us. In the jumble of people, school, and work, it's easy to forget that this wild natural beauty even exists.

Today we took a day to rest on the beach. We ate food, read books, did laundry, cleaned chains, etc. We also gave our quads, glutes, and hamstrings a rest from the fierce western winds. Healing time is still necessary in this stage of the journey.

Day 18. 56 miles.

Lesson of the Day: When riding against a strong wind with your bike partner drafting directly behind you, always veer to the side before launching a snot rocket.

We slept in this morning to compensate for a lack of sleep in Niagara Falls. The morning was cold and windy. We stopped at a state park in the early afternoon for a lunch of bread, hummus, apples, carrots, cashews, and many other miscellaneous food items. We lay in the sun for an hour or so, bundled up in our warmest layers and using our gear as shields against the wind.

The rest of the day was a fight against the wind. Where we ususally average about 18 mph on flat, smooth surfaces, today we were only getting about 11 or 12.

The night before, we noticed that our fuel for the MSR stove was getting a bit low. We stopped at a gas station to explain our predicament, then constructed a funnel out of cardboard and filled the bottle with gasoline. As we were leaving, a heavyset man wearing a red flannel shirt looked at our bikes and said, "Don't fill up here! Wait 'til you get to Pennsylvania. Gas is cheaper over there."

"I know," I said, holding up the red fuel bottle, "18 cents is pretty steep."

It took some effort to overcome the wind, but eventually we crossed the Pennsylvania border.

Day 17. 57 miles.

CT, the park maintenance guy, liked to chat with visitors. It was from him that we learned of the terrorists in Toronto the week before, which explained the absurdly large number of border patrol officers we had seen along the river the night before.

We took the multi-use trail to the falls, and wandered from vista to vista, awe-struck by the incredible power of the water cascading over rocks and sheer cliffs.

After our liesurely stroll around the park, we got back on our bikes and continued south. We hit Buffalo, and again we were forced to navigate the convoluted nature of traffic in a downtown urban area. When our origninal route decided to transform into an interstate, we took an array of small roads and bike paths in an effort to follow the river. Our plan worked; soon we were out of the city and cruising on a more bike-friendly section of our route. I caught a glimpse of a 2-lane bike highway in a park to my right, but was resistant to find an entrance to it, for fear that it would end without warning. Miles passed, and the bike highway remained paralell to my inferior route. I continued to stare longingly at the lane, possibly even drooling a little at the sight of such a beautiful bike space. Eventually, the yearning became too intense, and I dipped across another road to access the bike highway.

Aaah...a trail made for me! How nice to feel acknowledged.

Day 16. 73 miles.

For the first time in a long time, I managed to get a solid night's rest. Vivid dreams danced in my head throughout the course of the night. When I awoke, a strong wind blew across the lake and through the tree tops.

We finished the ugly stretch of interstate-like roadway and continued heading west, until we hit the Niagara River and began to cruise South.

We entered the town of Niagara Falls around 6:30pm, and wandered on a trail in a park for a bit, checking out the "whirlpool" section of the river. We cooked mac and cheese with broccoli, garlic, and tomatoes for dinner.

Day 15. 60 miles.

The birds began chirping at sunrise. I sat up in sleeping bag and looked at the sky. Pangs of hunger set in almost immediately, and I rummaged through our gear searching for a pineapple muffin I had bought the night before. Piper lay quietly folded in his sleeping bag, and I wandered over to the shore to sit in solitude.

I watched the birds and fish interact as the sky changed colors. Eventually Piper awoke and wandered over to the lake. We left the park a little before 9am, and pedalled to Rochester before noon.

We had no intention of actually entering the city, but unexpected freeways appeared, forcing us into unfamiliar territory. We found ourselves maneuvering the streets of the city slums, and in no time we were hopelessly lost. Eventually we found a generous man with a map to help us out, and we finally exited Rochester.

However, our new route, which claimed to be a "shared roadway" more closely resembled the interstate. Multiple lanes, exits, mergers, and high speeds infringed upon our satisfaction with this new "bike lane". But without another east-west road nearby, we continued on this very irksome stretch for 20 miles before we found a turnoff for another state park.

Beach, lawn, and picnic tables extended as far as the eye could see. We changed out of our bike shorts and tossed a frisbee around on the beach.

Day 14. 71 miles.

We said our goodbyes and rode through the city of Syracuse. We rode through downtown and then along a lakeside bike trail until we hit 370 west. The sun shone brightly above our wide, smooth shoulder.

I have been continually impressed by the quality of biking conditions in New York state. Shared use road signs paired with images of bicycles speckle the highways, making us feel welcome and respected. It is nice to know that biking is taken seriously here.

We turned north on route 14 and hit Lake Ontario in the early afternoon. We rode a smaller, lesser-known lakeside road until we arrived at a beautiful park along the shore. We hung out in the sun, tossed a frisbee around, and went to the local store to buy a large spinach pizza--which we finished off in a matter of minutes.

We returned to the park and slept under the pavillion by the lake, alongside a brilliant starry sky.

Day 13. 0 miles.

We ate raspberry muffins and fruit smoothies in the morning. The two black dogs, Tika and Coal, waited impatiently for us to toss their toys across the yard (which was spectacularly maintained, thanks to the professional gardener room-mate who owned the house.

We went to the bike shop, cleaned our chains, did laundry, and had a great barbeque in the sun.

Day 12. 91 miles.

The sky was still grey and soggy in the morning. We stopped at a small town diner for eggs and toast, and rode for about 25 miles before Piper broke a spoke in his front wheel. Luckily, he had a few extra spokes with him and we repaired his wheel easily. But then we noticed a new bulge in his rear tire, which we quickly discovered was the result of some serious fraying in a small portion of his tire wall. We duct taped a folded dollar bill to the inside of the tire as a quick fix, and continued on our way. It was a Sunday, so the bike shops were all closed.

Despite the mechanical difficulties, we arrived at Karla and Sean's house in Syracuse before 6pm, where homemade cookies, burritos, micro-brews, and good people were waiting for us.

Day 11. 36 miles.

The rain started during the night, and continued pattering against the tent fly long after Piper and I awakened for the day. Not wanting to pack up a wet tent in the rain, we remained trapped in the tent for hour after hour. We ate food and read books and took naps and cursed the storm. We waited.

Around 4pm, the rain became more sparse. We got up, threw the tent into the trailer bag, and pedalled a quick 35 miles or so. By the time we had found a new camping spot, the rain had diminished to a fine mist. We cooked pasta and set up the semi-wet tent for another night of rain.

Day 10. 63 miles.

BOOM!!

"Oh shit, oh shit!"

Shooting forward on a long downhill, I gripped the front handlebars and tightened the brakes, as my bike began to swerve wildly out of control. After a couple of seconds, my body was hurled to the ground.

SLAM!

With my arms tucked against my body for wrist protection, I hit the asphalt and skidded forward. I lay on the ground moaning for a couple of seconds. In a moment, Adam and a couple of concerned motorists were standing beside me asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yah, I think so," I said, wiping some of the dirt off of my body.

After 25 miles that morning and more than 350 miles that week, my front tube exploded without warning. The concerned couple offered me napkins from their car, and Adam graciously checked my tire for rips in the side wall, while I busily wiped blood off of myself. I had a couple of bloody spots on both hip bones, and a deeper gaping wound on my left elbow. But not to worry--for I am a certified Wilderness First Responder and I know how to care for a wide variety of gory accidents.

In the next few days, I went crazy trying to figure out the cause of the blowout. The tube was not underinflated or overinflated--I am careful about that. There was no pinch--I had been riding on it for 350 miles and had not changed the tube or deflated it. There were no bulges in the tire--I check for those sorts of things. The flat was not a snakebite or a puncture, but an absolute 5-inch blowout. A few days later, I found a likely cause.

It turns out that frequent braking can actually heat the rims, which in turn heats the tire and tube, causing the tube to increase in pressure while causing the tire to loosen around the tube. The simultaneous shift in the position of the tire and the pressure of the tube sometimes allows the tube to come in temporary contact with the rim, which then causes a pinch blowout. It turns out that this sort of accident is so common among tandem riders (who carry a heavy load and thus heat up their rims by braking), that there are certain locations where tandem riders are not allowed to ride downhill--only uphill. Though I can't be absolutely sure about what caused the blowout, this explanation makes sense given the conditions of the day. The weather was hot, the asphalt was hot, I was carrying a heavy load behind my bike that takes a heavy hand of braking to control, and I was coming down the other side of the Adirondack Mountains and facing consistent downhills for a long period of time.

Within 15 minutes, we had changed the tube, dressed my wound, and were back on the road. Oh well. I suppose that most serious athletes have some battle scars to show for their passion. This day I collected a couple more.

After awhile, the hills became smaller and we knew that we had finished our trek through the Adirondacks. It was difficult to get off of our bikes because the black flies were absolutely horrendous. Where I usually opt for using garlic oil, smoke, or sprigs of tansy tucked into my hair to gently deter the biting insects, in New York I became a Deet Machine. I do feel a little bit bad about it, but trust me, it was warranted. I think the biting insects collectively accounted for more bloodshed than my spill.

We bought sandwiches and found a beautiful camping space on the edge of a quiet lake. I also bought myself some dark chocolate to celebrate surviving my first crash.

Day 9. 56 miles.

We caught the ferry across Lake Champlain. Now some of you may call this cheating, but I will let you know that I rode my bike on and off that ferry--you really can't blame me if the ground happens to move beneath my feet, coincidentally bringing me closer to my final destination. We rode by Au Sable Chasm, the Wilmington Flume, Lake Placid, and the Adirondack Mountains (which turned out to be MUCH easier than the Greens or the Whites).The landscape of New York was stunningly beautiful, but once again we were drowning in precipitation by mid afternoon. At first, the cool rain felt nice. After awhile, it got old.

We stopped for some shelter by Lake Saranac, and the sun came out. We found an isolated rock by the shore and cooked beans and rice with tons of veggies for dinner. After we stuffed ourselves full of warm food, we wandered back to our bikes and rode off to find a camping spot for the night.

Day 8. 30 miles.

We left Huntington at 4pm. Dark storm clouds loomed before us, and a cool wind blew all around. Within minutes, we were fighting our way through a torrential thunder storm, with slabs of water pelting our bare skin and lightning bolts crashing in front of us. A woman in a car waved for us to follow her into her driveway. She happened to be one of Adam's neighbors, so we hung out in her garage until the storm had passed. Eager to be back on our bikes after two days' rest, we made it to Burlington in no time at all. In town, we had a barbeque with some of Adam's friends, and said goodbye to the Green Mountain State.

Days 6 & 7. 0 miles.

Chill time in Northern Vermont to replenish our muscles and fatten up on home made pesto pizza (thanks, Lyn!).