9/11 (Day 78) - Yorktown, Virginia. TRIP COMPLETE !!!!! Over 4300 miles travelled

Day 78: Returns home on 9/11/9

2009-09-12T00:50:00.000-07:00

[Jared and Todd]

[Jared's poster for Todd]

Day 78: Final Destination: Yorktown (Virginia)

2009-09-11T13:23:00.001-07:00

[Wheel dip in Yorktown]

TRIP COMPLETE !!!

VIRGINIA - Progress Tracking (Click on map to enlarge)

2009-09-02T23:38:00.000-07:00

[Map of Virginia]

9/1 - Entered Virginia in morning.
9/1 - Overnight in Damascus, VA
9/2 - Overnight in Wytheville, VA
9/3 - Overnight in Christiansburg, VA
9/4 - Day off in Christiansburg, VA
9/5 - Overnight in Lexington, VA
9/6 - Overnight in Vesuvius, VA
9/7 - Overnight in Afton, VA (Cookie Lady's house)
9/8 - Overnight in Palmyra, VA
9/9 - Overnight in Mineral, VA
9/10 - Overnight in Williamsburg, VA
9/11 - Arrived in Yorktown. Trip Complete !!!! Dipped wheel at 12:00 noon.

Latest Blog Post Additions

2009-08-14T21:02:00.000-07:00

8/14 - Day 14: Cambridge to New Meadows (Idaho)
8/8 - Day 13: Halfway, OR to Cambridge (Idaho) Highway Aliens: Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.
8/3 - Sidebar: Day 38: Hoosier Pass (Colorado)
8/2 - Day 12: Baker City to Halfway (Oregon)

Sidebar: Day 38: Hoosier Pass (Colorado)

2009-08-02T22:48:00.000-07:00

[Above: Hoosier Pass crest marker]

[ Above: View looking South from Hoosier Pass]

This is the "High Point" of my trip. Elevation-wise, that is! I made it over Hoosier Pass today (elevation 11,542 ft.) which is located on Colorado State Highway 9 between Breckenridge (to the North) and Fairplay (To the South) on the Continental Divide. This pass is the highest point on the TransAmerica Trail between Yorktown, Virginia and Astoria, Oregon.

Day 21: Sidebar: Lolo Pass Summit (Idaho/Montana)

2009-07-16T06:34:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. I just crested Lolo Pass and found that I have an Internet connection at the Visitor Center until it closes, which is in just a few minutes. I haven't had cell service for two days, so apologies for the lack of communication but it was out of my control.

Lolo Pass is in the Bitterroot Range, right on the edge of Idaho and Montana. This is where Lewis and Clark crossed the summit of the Bitterroots in 1805 – but back then it was referred to as the Lolo Trail. Today, it’s called "US 12", and it was belatedly constructed in the 1960’s. Somehow, it took over 150 years to get a decent road over the top.

I'm shooting for Missoula tonight - 42 miles in 3 hours – and downhill, thankfully. I've tent camped the last couple nights, so I'll probably get a hotel tonight - I'm getting stinky. Pheww!

Today, my knee felt the strongest it has since I began this trip. That really helped coming up the pass – I even easily cruised right past a big semi on the way up – well, not really, but it sounds good., doesn't it? Elvis is running strong, and we both are now looking forward to that downward slope on the road tonight.

Hopefully, I’ll get a couple more posts in by tomorrow to catch you up on the last few days of travel.

Thanks to everyone for their strong and continued support!!!

Onward,

Todd

Day 14: Cambridge to New Meadows (Idaho)

2009-07-09T14:15:00.000-07:00

[Above: the geometric view from my sleeping bag.]

After a surprisingly peaceful nights rest under the city of Cambridge water tower, I packed my gear and headed to the nearest breakfast joint. In this case, it appeared to be the one and only. Enjoying a monopolistic advantage, I figured high prices and lackadaisical service might be on the menu but that was certainly not the case. However, that didn't stop me from teasing the waitress that 65-cent coffee was outrageous, as in Oregon the highest I paid was 55 cents. She quickly called my bluff and suggested I pedal my butt back to Oregon, since then I’d have 10 cents more to spend on gas when I grow up and buy a car. Ouch!

Wolfing down breakfast, and reeling from a wittier-than-thou waitress, I struck up a conversation with the nicest couple from Arkansas, James and Shirly Parker, who appeared to be fellow bikers, albeit, of the leather clad variety. They were traveling by RV – and their rig included an enclosed motorcycle garage. They explained that whenever the fancy strikes them they'll simply pull over and do a side trip on their bike. A clever plan indeed – I just wish it were mine.

Later, the waitress brought me my breakfast bill, and told me the Parkers had picked up my tab - thanks Jim and Shirley!

[Above: Breakfast with new friends, James and Shirley Parker.]

Today was to be a special day. Originally my expertly crafted plan had me arriving on July 11th in Helena to attend a fundraising event for Jared, hosted at the Green Meadow Country Club. I planned to visit with family, friends, and of course, dignitaries. However, with progress slowed by knee pain and possibly some excessive chit-chat, this plan no longer seemed realistic. I was, after all, still in western Idaho.

As an alternative plan, I enlisted the services of my girlfriend Sonia and my 14-year old son Cooper to meet me along my route, where I would stash Elvis, then we'd drive by car to Helena. Then, and not so conveniently, they would return me a couple days later to resume my journey on my trusty steed, Elvis. It was a greatly appreciated effort, especially since they drove all the way from California! Thank you, Sonia and Cooper!

Sonia, Cooper, and I met, after my daily pedaling duties, in New Meadows, Idaho (pop. 550) where I checked us into the historic Hartland Inn, built in 1911, and owned and operated by Stephen and JoBeth Mehen. The hotel, built by the president of the Pacific Idaho Northern Railroad, is beautiful, and lavishly decorated with antiques and memorabilia.

[Above: Exterior of the historic Hartland Inn.]

[Above: Bed & Breakfast at the Hartland Inn.]

Later, we enjoyed a fantastic steak dinner in the nearby resort town of McCall. Topping off a great night, Cooper and I enjoyed a long soak in the outdoor hot tub under the stars, where we discussed and solved some weighty worldly issues. What a great evening!!!

[Above: Sonia and Buddy, road angels extraordinaire.]

Day 13: Halfway, OR to Cambridge (Idaho) Highway Aliens: Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

2009-07-08T07:43:00.000-07:00

Just like gasoline is necessary to run your automobile, mass amounts of food are the fuel for touring cyclists, and pancakes are my favorite high-octane choice. They are cheap, tasty, and seem to be found on breakfast menus far and wide. They are exceedingly difficult to screw up as well. In fact, I’ve never run up against a pancake I found not worthy of consumption.

[Above: The first wave of cakes arrives.]

Wheeling out of Halfway, I stopped at the local market to reload my snack sack and grab a couple 32 oz. Gatorades for that all-important thirst insurance. I always enjoy stopping at the market in small towns because they seem to reveal much of the town’s character.

While in the market, I met up with a couple of rowdy young cowboys saddled up in mom’s shopping cart and unloading groceries quicker than she put them in – they seemed to be making a sport of grocery tossing and were one can of chicken noodle soup short of victory. I chatted with mom as she futilely counseled her young cowboys to chill out. She introduced me to her 3-year old twins, Trace and Cooper, (coincidentally, my son’s name is Cooper) who, were dressed to the nines in cowboy outfits . As I had already guessed, they wanted to be cowboys - just like their daddy. We had a nice visit about living in a small town and about my ride. On the way out of the market I introduced the young wranglers to my bike, Elvis, and they thought he was super cool.

[Above: Another stop on my way out of town, the Halfway Boutique.]

The ride out of Halfway was beautiful, lots of ranches, green grass, and fresh mountain air. I felt peaceful here, a great place to hang your hat, no doubt.

[Above: These young horses spotted me from the barn and arrived in a full gallop to greet me. Strangely, they turned away as quickly as they arrived, bucking wildly as they returned to the barn. Is it something I said, or more likely, my malodorous smell that they found offensive?]

[Above: A pleasant roadside respite.]

[Above: Winding my way along.]

I pressed onward despite an annoying 'two club headwind’, which is golf-speak for a 15-20 mph breeze. Eventually, I met up with the Snake River, which separates Oregon from Idaho. It was truly bitter sweet leaving Oregon. I can’t say enough good things about the cycling-friendly state of Oregon and their extra-courteous drivers and friendly highway shoulders, but it was time that I moved along. Goodbye Oregon, and hello Idaho – only 9 more states to go!

[Above: The Snake River, Evel Kneivel’s nemesis.]

[Above: A sign of progress.]

I’m always saddened with someone losing their life prematurely while on the road, yet I’m also consoled by the obvious love and respect that endures. This monument obviously reflects a great love lost. I usually stop and pay my respects, and when appropriate, leave a trinket as a token of that respect. In this case, I left a cinnamon flavored Jolly Rancher, my favorite candy while cycling.

[Above: While the road may end, the journey continues. Rest in peace my friend.]

While enjoying a high speed descent, I came upon a bizarre sight which I quickly assumed were baby jumping frogs crossing the road and heading towards the river. I had never seen such a strange spectacle – there were literally thousands of these jumping alien life forms, all concentrated in a 100 yard section of the highway. I stopped for further investigation, and it was a heinous sight indeed.

[Above: The Highway Aliens – be afraid, be very afraid.]

After observing the living creatures devouring their dead roadway comrades - cannibal style, I hastily snapped a couple photos and left the creepy scene behind me. I didn’t have a clue of what these nasty critters were and didn’t want to stick around to be eaten myself.

[Above: Dead creatures littering the road, soon to be devoured by the survivors.]

I arrived at the outskirts of Cambridge, Idaho, as dusk fast approached, still feeling creeped out by the alien experience. As a welcome change, though, I enjoyed the sweeping views of well kept ranches and fertile farmland.

[Above: Just west of Cambridge, Idaho – a productive cutting.]

[Above: Cambridge, Idaho, sleeping under the city water tower. Can you spot my yellow tent?]

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 12: Baker City to Halfway (Oregon)

2009-07-07T23:28:00.000-07:00

After a relaxing day off the bike in Baker City, Oregon I felt rested, refreshed, and reorganized. I had needed that day off, badly!

While taking the day off, I began thinking about all the silly and superfluous items (anything that weighs anything at all) that I could shed. Let’s see, do I need that extra 5 sets of clothing? How about those rocks my friend Karin so thoughtfully gifted me on day 3? Or hey, I haven’t used any of those tools so far, Elvis wouldn’t dare betray me would he? Do I really need shampoo – I mean come on, look at this mop – is shampoo going to fix this mess anytime soon? Holy cow, I’ll be practically biking naked from here on out. I feel so vulnerable, so unprepared, so….light! Eat your heart out, Jenny Craig!

The Postal Service informed me I was now 8 pounds lighter and relieved me of $17.32. A brilliant investment that I should have thought of much earlier. I think that many bicycle tourists wise up along the way, and I’m pleased to join the club.

Feeling a newfound lightness, and with fresh legs, Elvis sprung to life with catlike quickness. It’s amazing what a little regroup does for the body and spirit - I truly felt like a new man, at least for part of the day, anyway.

The ride out of Baker was nice, really sweet indeed. Not in a picturesque sense but in a kind of I’m-feeling-less-beaten-and-battered – kind of hopeful almost. My only reservation was if cold weather were to hit, I was going to be a frozen potato. And let’s not talk about the possibility of rain, it just isn’t going to strike.

[Above: Rolling out of Baker City - which object doesn't belong?]

[Above: It appears that I have extra energy today… ]

[Above: Clearly, there has to be a better place for this piece of junk.]

[Above: I've seen variations of this old bone ranch more than once. I like the minimalist symbolism.]

The ride today seemed like two different days; the first part was out of Baker City to Richland, along the Powder River. I was generally weaving along the canyon floor with a nice tailwind at my back, feeling like I was in the cockpit of an expensive sports car – fast, nimble, and stealthy. Yeeehaaa!! - this bike business is fun!!!

[Above: A bit bored at times, I figured a shadow wave was due – pretty dumb, in retrospect.]

[Above: a picturesque farm along the way.]

[Above: This chunk of land for sale, 368 Acres, $1.795M, and the kicker – the pasture and grazing land is currently leased at $15,000 – with one year yielding 200 tons of hay and grazing 100 head of cattle. Doesn’t seem to pencil out to me – I’ll keep saving for a better investment – like a boat.]

I rolled into Richland later than I expected. Because, frankly, I had left Baker City later than I planned. Go figure. You might be inclined to think that this was some rambling vacation without end. However, I wanted to press forward to Halfway but it was nearing sundown – and a nasty, nasty hill was standing in my way. I continued undaunted by the impending darkness and was rewarded with some incredible sunset views.

[Above: Thankfully the sunset partially offset the searing pain in my legs – this is one killer hill!]

[Above: Looks like my nocturnal urges of night travel will soon be realized... halfway up the pass to Halfway.]

I arrived in Halfway, Oregon, just past dark and stumbled into the appropriately named Halfway Hotel, which graciously allowed me to set up my tent on a patch of grass for $5.00 – with a shower and WiFi included! I liked this setup indeed.

[Above: Camp Site - the best $5.00 I ever spent! ]

After pitching my tent in the black of the night, Elvis and I rode a good 200 yards into the tiny town in search of food. Nothing was being served, but one bar was open. I ordered a beer and placed my weary butt on a bar seat. After all – I needed to carbo load for the following day and beer has the carbs --seemed like a good plan to me.

I quickly struck up a conversation with Jason, a meaty cat from Portland who was enjoying his libations greatly. He was also on a bike tour – the motorized kind. He was slack jawed when I told him about my trip. He simply could not fathom such an endeavor and rewarded me with a complimentary beverage for my insane travel plan. I offered to switch up rides for a few days but he mentioned his spandex pants had inadvertently shrunk and were no longer comfortable for biking. Dang it! But it was worth a shot anyway!

I enjoyed visiting with Jason, who confided in me that his wife had recently passed away after losing a battle with cancer. He was riding along with his friend Tom who had been undergoing cancer treatments for the past 18 months. They were fun guys, enjoying life fully, and trying to balance out the share of tragedy they have experienced of late. I wish them health and endless miles of happiness.

[Above: Me and the Boys - L-R: Bill, the rancher who taught me more about cattle than I need to know, Tom Fitze of Moscow, Idaho, me, and Jason Edinger, a self-proclaimed “fishin’ fool” from Portland.]

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website

Day 11: Baker City, OR: A Much Needed Day of Rest

2009-07-06T15:40:00.000-07:00

[Above: Welcome to Baker City]

While I hadn’t planned on a day of rest in Baker City, it was an absolute must as I was feeling the accumulated stress of fatigue and it got to the point that I was feeling short-tempered too . On top of that, I needed to thoroughly ice my knee because the 5000 feet of climbing and 80+ miles on the bike from the previous day had left it swollen and tender. I can’t risk any serious damage to the knee – it’s just not an option with 3500 miles still ahead of me.

It was a stroke of fortune to have blindly stumbled into a gem of a motel at a late hour the previous evening. This one thankfully made up for my poor choice at the Hoodwink Hotel a few days ago. In fact, the value this innkeeper provided for a measly $38.00 (the same as I had paid at the Hoodwink) is a breath of fresh air and a travelers bargain. I can’t say enough good things about The Bridge Street Inn.

[Above: Bridge Street Inn - the real deal!]

[Above: Thoy and I chatting about her birthplace in Northern Thailand. Note: Cap’n Crunch with crunch berries served with the continental breakfast I told you this hotel is tops!]

I sat for a good hour chatting away with Thoy; she is so delightful. She was born and raised in Northern Thailand, moving to the United States after meeting her husband while he was stationed there during a stint in the Air Force. We shared stories about Thailand - it is one of my all time favorite countries to visit. The people are so welcoming and sincere - and the food, you’ll be hard pressed to find tastier cuisine anywhere.

[Above: Further cementing my love of the Bridge Street Hotel, bargain fans for sale! Perhaps I can rig one on Elvis and use jet propulsion?]

[Above: I'd best check out the local museum while I have the chance.]

[Above: I love these wall history artworks.]

[Above: Baker pride, a nice looking (and smelling) home.]

Finishing off my day of rest, I stopped by the local diner located across from The Bridge Street Inn where I met the waitress - she who shall remain nameless. Since I enjoy learning about local people and hearing small town stories, I’ll generally try to break the ice with some small talk – in this case asking said nameless waitress what Baker City is best known for. She gave me a puzzled stare and with utmost sincerity replied, "Well, I’m not really sure – I’ve only lived her since '96." I thought to myself, time really flies doesn’t it? Needless to say, it can occasionally be difficult to find common ground with people, no matter how hard you try.

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 10: John Day to Baker City (Oregon)

2009-07-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

Waking up in a puddle of water is seldom is a positive sign and today was no exception. Apparently, exhausted from yesterday’s pedal-a-thon, I fell asleep with a 10-pound bag of ice on my knee. It goes without saying the ice bag should have been placed outside the confines of my tent before sleepy time. Fortunately, I keep most of my gear in waterproof touring bags so the only real problem was a water logged sleeping bag, which made the ultralight 2-pound sleeping bag swell to 12 pounds - not a good thing, I’m sure.

[Above: Downtown John Day]

Today was hot and humid - and with several pesky mountain passes to scale, I had set my sights quite ambitiously with nearly 5000 feet of climbing and 80+ miles of pedaling. The first stop was breakfast, 13 miles away in Prairie City, Oregon, population 1100 souls, where I dined at the only place in town serving food on Sunday. Prairie City is a lovely place, a small town with a lot of character and pride. It was evident in how well kept the streets and sidewalks looked.

[Above: The view just before entering Prairie City. I wonder where they got the inspiration from?]

[Above: Prairie City, USA]

I sat down and ordered coffee, and my conversation with the waitress began:

She: "Did ya make the party yesterday?" (referring to the 4th of July celebration I missed)
Me: "Darn it, no, I didn’t make it because of the wind was howling in my face on way into town." (she saw me pull up on my bike). "It sounds like I missed a good time, huh?"
She: "Yup, ya sure did; it’s the county’s big get-together, people come from everywhere. "
Me: "That’s nice. What’s your favorite part of the festivities?"
She: "Oh, that’s easy – it’s the Cowpie Caper."
Me: "Huh, what’s that?"
She: Well, they chalk off a multi-squared grid on a patch of grass and sell spots, kind of like they do during football games, ya know, like a football pool. The only difference though is we are betting where the cow “does its business”. "
Me: "That’s nifty. Sounds like a good amount of strategy goes into picking the spot. How did you do this year?"
She: "Not well, some gal from outside the county won it - along with $415.00." (the waitress grimaces, showing dismay at such a travesty).
Me: "Too bad, that’s just not right. "
She: "I did do quite well in the duck races though, so all was not lost."

After a large breakfast and two slices of apple pie for dessert, I lumbered out and mounted Elvis. This is where the work began.

[Above: This is not a good sign, especially for bicyclists.]

[Above: Finding the hill simply too steep for their horses, these early Oregon settlers opted to abandon their stagecoach - and ironically, created a very nice roadside rest stop.]

[Above: I didn’t knock it over, at least I don’t think I did?]

[Above: Cows love bikers, especially those that wear spandex.]

[Above: Yet another prime trout stream. This is killing me.]

After a long day on the bike, I rolled into Baker City at 9:30 pm, completely and utterly wrecked. This was undoubtedly the toughest day of riding by far. I checked into the first motel I found and grabbed a nice cold shower.

Day 9: Mitchell to John Day (Oregon)

2009-07-04T21:33:00.000-07:00

Mitchell, Oregon is a hoot of a town, even though it boasts of a population of merely 170, not counting the town bear, Henry. I arrived well past dark in Mitchell and set up my tent in the city park, conveniently located in the center of town. Mitchell has a policy that you can camp in the park for up to three days, which I think is a generous offer, especially given the historic hotel sitting smack dab across the street. I suppose the hotel doesn’t take offense though, because given the thrifty nature of us park dwellers it is unlikely they lose much business to my kind of traveler.

After one of my better nights of sleep, I awoke late to a hot sun that was slow cooking the interior of my tent and its sole occupant. The interior atmosphere could only be described as that of a terrarium. What was I to expect – ‘hotter than a firecracker’ is an overused phrase, but given that it’s the 4th of July, I’m going to use it anyway.

[Above: Wake-up; Mitchell from my terrarium – nice slide.]

I made my way half a block into town and found the general mercantile, which was run and owned by a banjo strumming clerk. He was pretty darned good too, picking enthusiastically despite my annoying questions. We sat and had a good chat about life in Mitchell, which he clearly enjoys. I was impressed with the sheer variety of goods for sale in his store, radiator caps, cold rolled steel, chicken pot pies, bonnets, ice cream, toilet flappers, etc. I don’t think there was much he didn’t have, which made perfect sense since it was the only store for miles around.

[Above: Outside the Mitchell Merchantile.]

[Above: Inside the store; variety is the spice in this small town mercantile.]

Next, I struck up a conversation with Joann, who was hanging her wares in the front window of the mercantile. She is a lovely lady who has been making and selling bonnets for many years locally. After a quick chat, she determined that I was a prime candidate for a bonnet since the temperature will make it a virtual godsend on today’s ride. I was truly tempted too, as it fit like a glove - but, wisely passed on it, because the added weight was something I was not prepared to schlep.

[Above: Hmmm ... I have to admit that it does add to my appeal.]

After a custom fitting, but lost sale, Joann gives me a big hug and tells me I had made her day. I think it was the other way around - what a doll, I wish her my very best.

I met up with the only other people in the park last night and we decided to share a breakfast together at the local eatery. Pictured with me are Steve and Sherry Kae, long distance cyclists from Albuquerque, NM who are enjoying the summer by touring the northwest. We exchanged contact information and they invited me to stay with them anytime when I’m in Albuquerque. Good folks. Ride safely Steve and Sherry Kae and I return your generous offer to host you at my home in La Quinta as well.

[Above: Steve, Sherry Kae, and myself – enjoying breakfast and bike talk.]

Before leaving town I stopped and paid a visit to the local celebrity, Henry. He is an American Black Bear who has been a fixture in town for quite some time. Luckily, the bear’s keeper was feeding the nearly 800 pound beast so I had had a chance to pepper him with a few questions.

[Above: Henry and keeper, both bears - no doubt.]

Me to bear Keeper: How tall is Henry?

Answer: 7’6” - the keeper motions to me that they nearly see eye to eye.

Have you ever been swiped by the Bear?

Answer: Yup, one time only and I got plenty of scars to prove it.

Is the bear playful?

Answer: Yes, very, he likes to wrestle, and is a formidable opponent to say the least.

While I think this bear might make for a good gimmick for a struggling town of 170, I’m of the opinion that like many wild animals held in captivity, this bear is a ticking time bomb. Especially given the incident memorialized by the scarring on the keeper, one bad day for the bear could be the end for the guy who has clearly relaxed his guard. In any case, I don’t like to see such a magnificent critter confined to a cage, a curiosity at best.

Stuffing oneself with a ridiculously large quantity of pancakes at the base of a steep pass on a blistering hot day is a sure recipe for discomfort, and today I filled that order expertly. In fact, I crawled up Keys Creek Pass in record slow time cussing myself for poor planning and lackadaisical behavior. I vowed to change my ways, “Never again,” I shouted angrily into the canyon below.

Forging onward, I planned to make Prairie City by nightfall, since the Banjo clerk had told me they’ve got the biggest 4th of July celebration in the county. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, really. However, with 90 plus miles to go and a late start on the day, it would be down to the wire even in the best of conditions.

[Above: My legs resemble this remark.]

I arrived in Dayville mid-afternoon and wrecked. The pass and the heat had sucked the life right out of me. Figuring a couple hours rest at the market would perk me up, I downed countless Gatorades, a turkey sandwich, two cans of beans, two ice cream bars, and some licorice. Plainly, the 4th of July spirit had gripped me, and overindulgence was the theme for the day. Sitting there feeling a bit low, a kind lady cheered me up with an offer to join them for a picnic at the park. She said they were playing horseshoes and grilling burgers, and figured I could use some company. It was tempting I tell you; but luckily I’m a dedicated professional and was bound and determined to reach the Prairie City festivities, so I had to pass on her gracious offer.

[Above: In Dayville with a new friend.]

So, partially recovered from a difficult morning ride, I wheeled out of town and faced a stiff headwind – a real bummer given my ambitious goal of reaching Prairie City by dusk. This hot, stiff wind slowed my progress dramatically; I might as well have been climbing a steep pass, as 5 mph was about all I could do.

[Above: Patriotic, yes, but why can’t the flag be blowing the other way?]

[Above: Elated at the sprinkler gone awry, I wet myself.]

I fell 16 miles short of my destination that night, and set up my tent in a pathetically run down area near the fairgrounds, where the No Camping signs abounded. It was pitch black - honestly, how was I to know? This was not my idea of a 4th of July celebration, and I didn’t even see a sparkler.

[Above: Definitely NOT camping on this road.]

Visit www.JaredsMiles.org

Day 8 : Redmond to Mitchell (Oregon) / The Hoodwink Hotel

2009-07-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

As a studious reader, one might detect a pattern of me finding sleeping arrangements a couple hours later than one would deem reasonable, especially given my lack of bicycle lighting. Today would be no exception as I simply can’t bother myself with too much foresight or complicated planning.

I rolled into Redmond at half past sunset and quickly assessed several sleeping options: 1) Set up a Stealth Camp behind the newly shuttered GM dealership on the edge of town. After all, it looks plenty safe and inviting, but sleeping on someone’s broken dreams doesn’t sit well with me. In reality, I’d be one step closer to stripping his electrical panels of the valuable copper wire and as a recent victim of such a senseless act, I can’t bike down this criminal path.

Option 2) Stay in a cozy, comfy bed at the newly constructed Sleep Inn just yonder. I see they have lots of empty parking spots and maybe they’ll give me a deal, you know, filling an empty room at a reduced rate.

Option 3) If the price was too high on the new hotel, continue further into town where you can usually find a better deal, maybe something not so new. After all, I’m just catching a shower and a few hours sleep and I’ll be on down the road toward the next town.

Eliminating the GM property, I moved to Option 2, The Sleep Inn, where I poured on my charm. After all, I didn’t want to be mistaken as a homeless man, which frankly, I’m starting to resemble. Our conversation begins:

Me to clerk, “Boy am I tired, I just biked half way across Oregon and just beat the night. I could sure use a clean comfortable place to recharge.” I hand him my business card, clearly explaining my altruistic mission. He begins pecking at his keyboard, unimpressed with my card.
Clerk to me “Ya got AAA or any other coupons?”

Me to clerk, “AAA baby, it’s the beez knees!” I often throw a funny in there to establish camaraderie and most importantly, to soften up the rate sheet.

Clerk to me “My best rate going is $80.00 + tax. Ya want to be on the ground floor I reckon with your bike and all?”

Me to clerk “Do you have anything cheaper than the honeymoon suite? If you do I’d be most grateful.”

Clerk to me “ Sorry sir, our rates are firm”

Feeling down and slightly dejected, I summon Elvis and we roll into the night. At least that is, until I discovered the Hoodwink Hotel a couple of blocks down the road. My first impression was of the gold Mercedes in the carport. Well, that’s a good sign I thought, probably a like-minded traveler squeezing his dollar just like me. I checked in with the gal at the desk and attempted to confirm what the sign out front read, Free Internet. I asked her,”Do you have free Internet?” She replied “Sorry, I don’t speak English.” Hmmm. I paused in disbelief.

“How much for room for 1 night only?” I asked, cutting out the superfluous words that might break our conversation down. She replied, “$38 no tax.” SOLD, end of conversation.

I checked in and made my way out back to a separate wing where my room conveniently sat next to the ice machine. I figured, wow, my luck. My knee is going to appreciate the attention it’ll be getting tonight. I opened the door to the room and noticed an unusual odor. Bravely, I unpacked Elvis, thinking to myself, ‘I’ll go get some Ice, get to taking care of the sore knee and all – and I’ll be asleep before long anyways.’

[ Above: Get your ice here - this place would have even scared Jeffrey Dahmer ]

[ Above: Nice touch, but you can’t fool me. ]

[ Above: Cigarette burns on mirror, rarely a positive sign in a motel. ]

[ Above: This pretty much says it all. ]

It wasn't exactly the Ritz-Carlton, but trying to get my money back, given the language barrier, would very likely be futile. So, I breathed a long sigh, unrolled my sleeping bag and climbed on in.

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 8: Redmond to Mitchell (Oregon) Part Deux

2009-07-03T07:31:00.000-07:00

After a precarious night sleeping in the Hoodwink Hotel, I left feeling relieved that I wasn’t hacked to death - never to be seen again. I don’t think it is much of a stretch to suggest the hotel is suffering low occupancy as a result of the frightening conditions either. It looked like only a half a dozen cars were in the parking lot; surely the maintenance budget has been impacted as a result, which might possibly explain the hairy pillows and other innkeeper anomalies.

My biking for the day started around 11 a.m., later than I recommend, since I waited until the temperature had reached a point that was too hot for biking, at least by most people’s standards. Truth be known, I’m conditioned for extreme temperatures having lived in the southern California deserts for nearly 20 years. My goal for the day was to reach the tiny town of Mitchell (pop. 170) by nightfall, some 70 miles and the Ochoco Pass away.

[Above: Looking me straight in the eye, this horse confirms his suspicions that I’m nuts.]

[Above: Following her entrepreneurial dreams, Robin opened the RC Corral just a couple months ago. Good luck Robin, I love your location and attitude!]

[Above: Taking a much needed break on the climb up Ochoco Pass, seriously – I’m not kidding!]

[Above: Midway up the pass, I spot a sign signaling a photo op (and a rest break). Yes, I am truly this sweaty.]

[Above: The summit. Whew, another one in the books!]

[Above: Ignoring the Do-Not-Sit-On sign, I take my chances that the giant is out of the area, and snap a quick picture. I hope he isn’t reading my blog.]

[Above: Night blogging. While tent camping in the city park at Mitchell Oregon, I do some blogging using a red light for keyboard illumination. The bugs are not attracted to red lights.]

Day 7 : Clear Lake to Redmond (Oregon)

2009-07-02T16:29:00.000-07:00

Tent camping is apparently starting to agree with me - either that, or fatigue is now running the show. By the time I roll out the sleeping bag I’m out stone cold, no more fussing about the lumpy ground I carelessly chose to set the tent up on, no bother with shooing off the droves of mosquitoes that devour sleeping tourists, and certainly no concern with those strange noises as Sasquatch circles your tent and plans your demise.

[ Above: Clear Lake campsite: No Tent Camping Allowed -- (ooops!) ]

As morning broke with another fine slumber on the books, I headed towards civilization, known locally as Clear Lake Resort, for my much needed coffee and hopefully, an electrical outlet to charge my electronic apparati. I was quickly greeted by a young gentleman named Talon, who informed me they have satellite Internet access and I would be free to log on. Oh joy, what a sweet world we live in!

[ Above: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (aka Talon’s)! ]

Talon served me up a tasty breakfast with strong black coffee, one of many pots consumed as I feverishly banged out a couple of blog posts and answered emails. He also gave me the low down on the lake, which I’m told is highly popular amongst both fisherman and divers, as the visibility is second to none. One word of caution though, the water is extremely cold so if it were me diving, I’d use a dry suit.

[ Above: Clear Lake - If it wasn’t for the breeze rippling the water, you could see the bottom, no problem. ]

Later, I received an email from Talon telling me how he checked out my website and was impressed with my dedication and determination. He also mentioned he wants to donate the following week’s tips to Jared. Thanks Talon, you’ve got a big heart!

Fueled by the caffeine jitters, I climbed back up to the highway to face the 4817’ Santiam Pass standing ominously in my way. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood for any inclines because I was still feeling exhausted and nursing a tender left knee. I tried to make the best of it though, as sometimes the only thing you can control is your attitude. I plugged my way skyward, averaging an abysmal 3 miles an hour.

[ Above: Thinking that my Mom left me a note, I rode excitedly towards the message, only to realize I wasn’t loved like others. ]

“What goes up must come down” is certainly true in this case as I was (finally) treated to a long rewarding descent. While it is fun carving high speed turns down the backside of a pass, extreme caution must be exercised - a moment of inattention or an unexpected gravel patch could put you 6 feet under. And since I haven’t budgeted for my untimely death, I cautiously rode my brakes, enjoying the scenery and ultimately, living to see another day.

[ Above: View of one of the Sisters ]

[ Above: Along the way, Jim’s Place ]

[ Above: Sunset in Redmond - Red Sky at Night, Sailors Delight ]

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 6 : Along the McKenzie to Clear Lake (Oregon)

2009-07-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

I woke up after a wonderful night’s sleep to a partial view of the McKenzie River. I wasn’t sure how close I was when I dropped anchor the night before - it was simply too dark to see through the thicket of brush. I thought, Gee, too bad I left my night vision goggles at home or I could be having a field day out here. Oh well, they are too bulky anyway, and besides, with the hills on the horizon I’m sure I’d be cussing them out just like I do with the rest of my gear.

I stumbled clumsily down to the river like any mortal might before morning coffee. I was awestruck at the beauty, momentarily forgetting my own groggy plight. Luckily, I had my Jetboil in hand and within two minutes I’d be the envy of baristas worldwide with fresh brewed McKenzie River coffee. Coupled with the bagel and fresh cherries the Karpins gave me as a parting gift, I was living La Vida Loca Mocha!

[Above: A great start to a great day ]

I spied a couple shore fishermen coming my way and as soon as they got within chatting distance I asked them what was biting. They replied, “Mainly rainbow trout, using red power bait.” He also added, “But we haven’t caught anything yet.” Just then the guy closest to me hooked one and wrestled the little bugger to shore. He held it up as if he had a trophy on his line and asked me if I’d care to immortalize the moment with a photo. Sure, I thought, this is the first fish I’ve seen pulled out of the McKenzie – this is big news!

[ Above: Give a man a fish and he'll have fish for a day. Teach a man to fish and minnows beware! ]
After it became apparent the fisherman weren’t going to share pole time with me, I made my way over to the shallow area of the river where I would tend to my tooth brushing duties. I also cleverly doused my head in the frigid waters to drive out any wood ticks that hadn’t yet dug in too deep. As you know, you can never be too careful when camping in the wild.

I hit the road after all the morning excitement eager for the new day. My knee was still bothering me so I tried to adjust my pedaling action to minimize the pain. The correct action should feel like your feet don’t mash into the pedals on the down stroke – rather they float on them, dancing on the pedals is how some describe the feeling. It seemed to make it more tolerable.

[ Above: A lonnngg covered bridge ]

I continued onward, paralleling the McKenzie River, enjoying the perfect weather and spectacular scenery. The smell of the towering pines coupled with the unbeatable scenery helped me forget about the world around me. This bicycling trip is really shaping up to be a lot fun!

[ Above: They never seem to come in blue. ]

[ Above: Sahalee Falls ]

[ Above: A random roadside waterfall ]

I continued to ride into the early evening beginning my ascent up the 4800’ Santiam Pass. I thought it would be wise to break the climb into two days especially as I wasn’t getting full use out of my left leg. I climbed to the 3000’ mark and since it was getting close to dark, I planned on setting up camp for the night. Unfortunately, I was completely out of drinking water and the last known water source was at Clear Lake, some 3 miles back down the hill. I had no choice but to reluctantly turn back, cussing myself most of the the way for not stopping earlier.

Clear Lake Resort is a great little place with cabins for rent, a small restaurant, and non-powered boats for rent. But unfortunately, no tent camping was allowed. I stopped by the restaurant to see if I could find a cabin but they were all closed for the evening. It looked like I had no choice but to set out for the far reaches of the lake where I could camp undetected once again.

Visit the Jaredmiles.org website.

Day 5 : Eugene (Oregon)

2009-06-30T13:21:00.000-07:00

After a good night rest at the casa de Karpins, I loaded my gear and set out to Eugene some 30 miles south. It would be an easy ride since it’s basically flat terrain and my knee appreciated the rest. I stopped on my way out of town for my customary chocolate milk fix. Did you know chocolate milk is the ideal recovery drink for endurance athletes? It is chock full full of calories and laden with carbohydrates. And perfect, that is, if you’re burning 6000+ calories a day on a bike!

I rolled into Junction City enroute to Eugene and came upon a small metal fabrication business specializing in unique Western and Native American art. I’ve always enjoyed metal fabrication, having dabbled in welding myself, creating my own unique treasures. I thought it would be a nice diversion to chat with the proprietor about the craft I love.

I walked into the shop, and was immediately met by a very fit gentleman in his 60’s named Wade Skinner. He extended his hand with an enthusiastic handshake and warm smile. I could see in Wade’s eyes that he was a down-to-earth guy who had a special way about him – a real man’s man.

His shop was packed with custom projects, old antique relics, and various memorabilia that had been collected throughout a lifetime. Wade and I talked for the better part of an hour, and never once did I sense that he would rather be doing anything else than talking about how great our country is and how he loves living the simple life, riding horses, and making metal art. He also owns eight stage coaches and dreams one day of taking school kids on extended western history tours.

[ Above: One of Wade's wagons ]

Wade told me that no matter what material wealth I’ll ever accumulate in my lifetime, I’m a true billionaire as I’ll have lived an experience that nobody can ever take from me. I left the shop having felt that Wade and I were meant to meet on this day. He is an insightful man who truly touched my heart with his kind words and wonderful stories. I rode off, all pumped up and feeling all the better for having met a new friend in Wade.

[Above: 'Wade Skinner, my new pal']

I made my way to downtown Eugene and stopped at Blue Heron Cycles. I needed to replace the trip computer that I had clumsily knocked off my handlebar mount and broke the LCD display the day prior. I also needed a spare tire, because I knew the next few days I’d be heading away from civilization and a blown-out tire could be a real problem. And while I was at it, I said, Heck, throw in a mini tire pump so I can discard that ridiculously inefficient one I’ve been hauling around. And that was when I spied the brass bell – it just seemed soooo Elvis, so now I’ve added another few pounds added to my already unwieldy load.

After meandering around Eugene and checking out the beautiful University of Oregon campus, home to the famous “Ducks” campus, I headed onward hesitant on leaving such a pretty town. This place is truly a biker’s heaven, with dedicated cycling paths, courteous drivers, and down-to-earth people – I really enjoyed my brief stay there.

[ Above: One of Eugene's dedicated bicycle paths ]

I headed out of Eugene on Camp Creek Road up Hwy 126, a beautiful road with a wide shoulder paralleling the gorgeous McKenzie River. I almost ran my bike off the road a few times when I was rubbernecking the scenery, which was second to none. Everywhere I looked there was rippling water sure to hold trophy trout – dang, but I wish I had brought along a pole!

[ Above: the McKenzie River ]

As the evening wore on, I continued to meander up this idyllic stretch of Hwy 126, enjoying the easy pace and beautiful scenery. I was thinking about stopping and setting up camp for the night but it was just too perfect to call it quits, so I continued along. It reminded me of days of old when my golfing buddies and I used to practice, honing our skills well into total darkness, oblivious to the hour. However, back then the concern wasn’t 10 tons of steel whizzing narrowly past, so I have to continually remind myself the importance of bicycle safety – especially during the twilight hours.

[ Above: Long evening shadows ]

I had no choice but to try my hand at stealth camping for the night. Frankly, I rode too long and there no campgrounds within striking distance. Stealth camping is where you set up under the radar where nobody will detect your presence. This is critical, as the last thing you want in the middle of the night is some peace officer or rowdy group of kids interrupting your well deserved rest. The advantages of this type of camping are numerous: no camping fees, no stopping early, and you have maximum flexibility as to when you call it quits for the day. As long as you have water, it’s a great way to go, but you have to be comfortable being a bit of an outlaw for the night.

I found a beautiful spot about 30 yards off the McKenzie River, in a heavy thicket of brush. I picked this spot because it wasn’t too close to the river. I didn’t want any early morning rafters or fishermen to stumble upon me, but also wanted to be far enough off the main road where passing motorists wouldn’t spot me.

[ Above: Undetectable - except by smell of course ]

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 4 : Them Darn Ferries

2009-06-29T16:02:00.000-07:00

I departed Salem feeling better, especially in my right knee - it was feeling completely pain free. My left knee, on the other hand, was still quite tender with pain being felt on each pedal down stroke. I had planned on an easy day, and given the circumstance there wasn't much choice in the matter.

I pulled out my map and picked a route out of Salem that looked free from traffic. It was a beautiful country road that reminded me of the Napa wine country - lush rolling hills dotted with beautiful estate homes and ranches. I figured I could join the TransAm route later as long as I was headed in the right direction - what was the harm?

[Below: 'Friendly neighbors']

I rode for 10 plus miles and hardly saw any traffic. I couldn't believe this road was so untraveled, a bicyclist dream. I came to a sign in the road and the "road less traveled" made perfect sense now. There was a ferry crossing on the river and Mondays they were closed! Oh man, that puts a major monkey wrench in my plan! I pulled out my maps and recalculated a new route - no chance to rejoin the Transam today though. Oh well.

After back tracking a bit and cussing myself out for being so cute with the maps, I found a road paralleling the TransAm route - 20 miles east. It was through farm country, very rural and completely different in feel than the liberal tree huggers back in Salem.

I rode until near sundown where I decided I better get serious about a place to hang my hat for the day. I was in the middle of nowhere, (Okay, Halsey is technically a town - population 500) and riding into Eugene some 30 miles away wasn't doable. I decided to stop at a little bar and grill that had a "new management" sign hanging outside on the wall. I figured they could point me to a park where I could set up my tent, regroup, and get some rest.

Once inside, everyone started to ask me about my trip and offering all different opinions of how to cross the Cascade mountain range. One lady suggested I go the scenic but very steep route, another gentleman said I'd be crazy to do that since there are no shoulders and the grade makes it tough even for passenger cars. There wasn't a person in the place without an opinion!

After concluding that I was completely confused, a nice gentleman and his wife, Kelly and Melody Karpins, asked me if I'd care to set up camp in their yard! Great, I thought, especially since by then it was totally dark.

I followed them on my bike a few blocks away where they directed me to their spacious back yard. I began pulling my gear out, and their 17-year old son, soon to be an Eagle scout, introduced himself: "Hey I'm Charlie, can I help you set up? "Sure", I replied, happy to have some young muscle on my side.

After we set up my camp, Charlie invited me in his house to feast on homemade chile rellenos with rice and beans. Wow, talk about good grub! Charlie tells me his dad is the best cook around, and he has been cooking and canning food all his life, starting at age three. I concur with Charlie’s appraisal of Kelly's culinary prowess – and his homemade hot sauce was no doubt the finest I've had anywhere.

The Karpins were great hosts and they were impressed with my dedication to my cause. I was impressed with their family, and their dog (who knows its right paw from its left). Thanks for the wonderful hospitality - you made my day!

[Above: 'Fresh Oregon cherries']

I awoke the next morning, packed up and took Kelly up on his offer of free cherries. All I had to do is climb under the tree net and pick them. "Yum, nothing better than fresh fruit after a long day on the bike," I thought. Charlie saw me off and before I left we took a picture together. He also told me he had decided to join me in not shaving for the duration of my trip - Forrest Gump would be proud!

[Below: 'Beard check']

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 3 : Ice and Advil in Salem (Oregon)

2009-06-28T15:59:00.000-07:00

[Above: 'Not much shoulder here']
[Below: 'Just a scratch']

Much to my dismay, I rolled into Salem last night tired and feeling pain in my knees. I've had some right knee issues on occasion in the past, mainly as a result of pushing myself too hard during training. Invariably though, if I back off a bit, use ice and Advil to control the inflammation, in a few days the pain will subside.

The next morning, I packed my gear and left town only to come to the unfortunate realization that my knees were in bad shape – especially my left one, which strangely enough I've never has the slightest problem with. I had no choice, I returned to Salem and checked into the Travel Lodge where I iced them and took a couple Advil. Hopefully, a day of rest will do the trick.

[Below: 'Understatement']

Day 2: June 27, 2009

2009-06-27T22:52:00.000-07:00

Day 2: June 27th, 2009
Cape Lookout State Park to Salem Oregon (80 miles)
Start: 10:30 a.m. Finish: 7:45 p.m.
Weather: 70 degrees, Sunny – perfecto!

I planned on getting up early as I wanted to log close to 90 miles. Obviously, this plan was shelved because of the lack of sleep the night prior, which made it difficult to move, or think, or for that matter, talk. Instead, I lazied my way to the beach and enjoyed fresh raspberries and hot coffee, soaking up the warm sunshine and spectacular scenery. I was diggin’ the moment – and this is what it’s all about!

After coffee and a 30-minute walk on the beach, Chris made us his special oatmeal concoction while I packed up my gear. He added chocolate bars, fresh raspberries, and who knows what else. Mmmmmm, that was one tasty breakfast! There is something about eating while camping that makes everything taste so delicious. After breakfast, we said our goodbyes and exchanged contact information. It was nice riding with you Chris - safe travels!

Right out of the park, I was faced with a killer hill that just wouldn’t end. I shifted into my lowest granny gear and slogged my way up the slope with my heart pounding and my legs screaming. As I was soon to discover, this was a preview of things to come.

After I finally conquered the killer hill, I stopped at a middle-of-nowhere snack shack and gobbled pretty much everything on the shelves. The woman at the counter eyed me, asked had I heard about ‘that from Missouri’ who crashed yesterday on the very hill I just climbed. Apparently, he was doing the better part of 35mph and lost control. She told me he was rushed to the hospital – I hope he is O.K. This is a reminder to be extra cautious on steep descents; you’re basically a runaway train if your brakes fail, and the outcome won’t be pretty.

Later that day I got my first flat. The annoyance was compounded by being exhausted, and I still had 20 miles to go before reaching Salem. It was the first time I’ve had to fix a flat on Elvis and it was surprisingly simple to remedy – even with all the gear attached. The only hitch was the mini-pump I’m carrying. It took about 300 pumps to inflate my tire – I’m already rethinking that pump’s usefulness.

Earlier in the week, I got a phone call from an old high school friend, Karin Bertelson. She said she was hoping to come root me on as she lives less than an hour away in Portland. It had been 8 years since I saw her at our last high school reunion, so I crossed my fingers it would work out. I was excited when she called early in the afternoon and said she cleared her schedule – that gave me an extra boost, as it is always nice to see a friendly face!

We met up in Salem for dinner and shared lots of stories about mutual friends and what we’ve been up to the past decade. We attended the same schools since 4th grade so we had a lot of gossiping to catch up on. Thanks again Karin for the generous contribution to Jared’s cause, my dinner, the inspirational rocks, and especially for coming to see me. Although, slogging up those steep hills, one might be inclined to question the motive for giving me a couple of rocks to carry along.

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Day 1: June 26, 2009

2009-06-26T22:28:00.000-07:00

Astoria Oregon to Cape Lookout State Park (83 miles)
Start Time: 9:00 a.m. Finish Time: 9:00 p.m.
Weather: 65 degrees and mostly sunny (perfect riding weather)
Elevation Gain: 2600’

After a gut-busting pancake breakfast, my send-off team comprised of my Dad, his cousin Joan, and her husband Frank, assembled on the outskirts of Astoria to see me on my merry way. Before I got rolling though, we ask the hard hammer-slinging Donovan to snap a picture for us. I got chatting with him and he invited me into his building to check out his vintage ride. He figured I would appreciate a nice bike considering I’m rolling on a Rivendell. He also told me of his plans to convert the building into a Bike Kitchen, a co-op type bike shop that’ll be serving up some tasty bites. Very cool, good luck Donovan – I love your plan, you have a winner on your hands!

My carefully crafted strategy was to get some easy miles in and get used to the handling of Elvis since I’m quite new to the loaded bike touring gig. In fact, this was the first time riding Elvis since loading him up with the panniers and handle bar bag. I was shocked at the heft I felt – clearly, this will prove problematic on hills.

Easy Does It was the mantra of the morning as I headed 30 miles south to Cannon Beach for the official wheel dip in the Pacific. I was in no hurry, kind of meandering down the coast at a leisurely pace, getting used to the load and riding characteristics with the new found bloat.

Mishap #1 - Broken Sunglasses at mile marker 10. That didn’t take long.

I arrived on Cannon Beach to officially start my ride with a wheel dip. If you don’t know about this tradition, it’s a “must do” for transcontinental bicycling tourists -- and besides, it’s fun to get salt water and sand all over your freshly tuned and once impeccably clean bike.

Cannon Beach is a beautiful stretch of coastal bliss. I hung out there for a while chatting with onlookers and riding a good couple of miles on the hard packed sand, which was a new experience for me. Lots of people were asking me what I was doing, where I’m going, and why I’m doing it, so I passed out no less than a dozen cards with my website and contact info – I hope they are following me along the journey. Thanks for all the positive encouragement!

After the wheel dip I sat and enjoyed the moment, pondering what lies ahead on this 4400 mile journey. Another loaded bike tourist pulled up beside me. We chatted it up and I discovered that Chris was on a Vancouver to San Diego brevet before he has to get to New York to begin his graduate studies in the fall. We decided to ride together and share some stories about cycling and banter about life.

We continued riding together for the remainder of the day and at sundown pulled into Cape Lookout State Park for some deal-of-the-day $4.00 camping. Chris had clued me into this special “hiker and biker” program in the state parks. I’m in awe of the beauty of the park and the incredible bang for the buck – thanks for the tip Chris!

We set up our respective tents and called it a night, or so I thought. There was no way to anticipate the frigidity of the night, and that seriously hampered my much needed rest plans. I probably slept a total of two hours that night – not a good setup for day 2.

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

Meet Elvis

2009-06-25T22:12:00.000-07:00

“Hitch Your Wagon to a Star” -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

In a previous life, Elvis reigned supreme as the King of Rock 'n' Roll, entertaining millions with his larger than life persona and charismatic charm. Reborn as a Rivendell Atlantis, Elvis continues to excite and mesmerize audiences with signature good looks, classic styling, and a timeless appeal. He is a road warrior and he loves wide open spaces.

How we met...

Recently, Elvis and I met like many lonely singles do, on the Internet. I spotted an ad in the "Bikes Seeking Riders" section of Craigslist. It sounded just too good to be true, so I admit to casting a suspicious eye. After all, falling for a third Nigerian Internet scam would be difficult to stomach. However, as luck had it, Elvis was a mere 20 miles away, so much of my initial concern would soon be laid to rest.
My first impression of Elvis was one of overwhelming joy. I absolutely loved the retro look and rock solid steel lugged frame, Brooks leather saddle, Nitto racks – and the list goes on. Unbelievably, it was an XL sized frame (64cm) which fit me like a glove! I could not believe what I was seeing - a highly esteemed touring bike, in immaculate condition. It was perfect in every way except for the asking price, which unfortunately was a bit out of my budget, and the owner was firm on the price.

I reluctantly walked away from the deal hoping that the owner would come chasing me - dropping the price so I'd get my dream bike for a song. No such luck, he didn't even blink an eye as I drove away. Bummer!

A couple weeks passed during which time I intensively shopped for a suitable touring bike. I looked at all the brands, studied the geometries, and assessed my needs. But in the end, I couldn’t justify buying something that didn’t speak to me. I knew the Atlantis was my ride. I felt the bike needed me as much as I needed him.
I called the owner again, nervous that he may have sold it but luckily he hadn’t. I explained my situation and ultimately he made a generous concession allowing me to own the bike of my dreams. Thank you Mark, you’ve done a good deed.

And Elvis is still rocking – out there on the roads and highways of America!

The Inspiration . . .

2009-06-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

The idea of this journey began a couple of years ago when I was visiting my nephew Jared in the hospital. He was battling complications borne from a long battle with Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Conditions were dire; Jared was sequestered in the intensive care unit and his weight had plummeted to nearly 60 pounds. His life was on the line and his will to live was the only thread remaining. I recall standing there looking at Jared and thinking how brutally unfair life can be. Why was this perfectly innocent boy being dealt such a harsh hand? It makes little sense, and frankly, I don't understand such injustices. I probably never will.

This ride was originally conceived as a tribute to Jared's life - a memorial ride celebrating his spirit and the joy he brought into this world. I didn't believe it was physically possible to battle back from where he was, but I'm overjoyed that he is proving me wrong! Nearly two years have passed, and we continue to be inspired by Jared's indomitable spirit. He recently returned home after a nearly two-year hospital stay - and still bucking the odds all along the way.

I'm delighted to make this journey now, not as a memorial ride but instead as a means of sharing this beautiful country of ours through my eyes, with my stories and the photographs I take along the way. I consider it an honor to know Jared and I hope you get to know him too - he can teach us all a great deal about this thing called life.

Keep fighting Jared, we are all rooting for you.

Visit the Jaredsmiles.org website.

The TransAmerica Trail

2009-06-25T11:22:00.000-07:00

The TransAmerica Trail was established for Adventure Cycling's celebration of the U.S. bicentennial in 1976. This is still the greatest and most used route crossing America, and is a classic ride that offers everything one would expect from a transcontinental crossing. The TransAmerica has an incredible variety of scenery and terrain, including ocean coastline, lush forests, high desert, mountain passes, snow-capped peaks, sweeping vistas, expansive plains, fertile farmlands, rolling hills, and wide rivers.

Parks along the TransAm include Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, among the best in the United States. Because this route has been ridden by cyclists for nearly 35 years, many of the cafes, restaurants, and overnight accommodations along the route have kept journals consisting of entries written by cross-country riders from previous years, providing a cyclist's history of the route. The TransAmerica can be ridden from May through September, but snow can occur at any time in the Rocky Mountains, and the highest pass on the route is over 11,500 feet. For those traveling from the west coast, Astoria, Oregon is the official beginning-of-the-road.

Final Preparations

2009-06-24T22:02:00.000-07:00

During a last minute shopping trip, the skilled REI staff loaded my basket no doubt figuring I have a station wagon following me for support.

Pictured here, Ron, enthusiastically suggests I purchase a Jetboil – claiming 5 of his friends recently made the switch and it literally changed their lives! SOLD, I wonder what it does?

Today turned out to be a productive day! I got quite a bit accomplished, for example, smartly delegating the bike packaging to the professionals at Palm Desert Cyclery. Hopefully, with UPS 2-Day express shipping my bike will arrive in one piece to Bikes and Beyond, up in Astoria, Oregon where I'll reassemble it and rig my panniers.

Later, my long time buddy Steve and I trekked 90 miles to REI for a power-shopping trip. I love REI - so much gear that is so foreign to me, a world of wonderment and adventure indeed. All you need is a credit card and less common sense than the ordinary man and you're good to go. Just my kind of place. The experience did, however, serve to remind me of how little I know about the great outdoors and all the gear required to enjoy it. And, as one might expect, this causes me great consternation, coming as it does from a Montana native who should by second nature be adept at this.

"Surely, I'll be fine" I keep mumbling to myself - even though I know the last time I've camped in a tent was a lifetime ago. Another concern, why have I waited until 3 days prior to my departure to gather my touring gear?

Clearly, your typical cross-country wack-job cyclist would plan a trip of this scope far more carefully. There would be much rumination about all the adversity one might encounter, and there would be carefully crafted remedies specific to each perceived problem. Certainly, my insistence on working without a net, or a care for that matter, goes beyond mere lack of planning. Instead, it actually may represent future fodder for the kind of discussions relegated to the psychiatry couch. But for now, I can't let doubts creep into my psyche - there is no time for such nonsence.

I'm faced with the reality that when I start my trip I'll actually never have ridden a bicycle with a load like I'll be carrying. However, I've attempted to similulate my load by strapping dumbell weights to the front and rear racks - pedaling around the neighborhood, no doubt looking like a dork. I'm also aware that the bike will certainly handle differently, be harder to pedal, and it will no doubt have taken on a whole new personality. Oh well, there's a good chance by then I'll have a whole new personality as well.

Visit the Jaredsmiles website.