The Promised Land

Ok, so this one is coming way after it should have. Writing this final blog post has been in the back of my mind for like two weeks, but I just got caught up in the buzz of our impending finish. Now that I'm done and home, I'm finding myself with way too much free time and no excuse not to finish this thing up right.

The end of Nevada was pretty similar to the rest of it, terrain-wise. Lots of unexpected, annoying hills, gray dirt and sagebrush. Our one hundred ten miler to Fallon, NV was interesting. Not terribly hard (our early start and the variation in scenery helped), but the last thirty miles were an odyssey on their own. We were basically riding on a salt flat into the wind that whole way; pretty rough psychologically. The four guys I was riding with and I were almost at each other's throats at one point, but a last minute gas station stop saved us. By the end, there were enough little salt crystals on me for a three course meal. In the oasis town of Fallon, we finally found some grass and some civilization.

The next day to Sparks (a suburb of Reno) just plain sucked. The first half was the most ridiculous headwind we had, and the second was the most ridiculous climb. Truly, this mountain we had to go over was just stupid steep, and it just kept going. The road's name was Six Mile Canyon, and it was an appropriate one. Anyway, the pass ended, like they all do, and we were treated to an awesome descent with some great panoramic views of the Reno area.

It was fun hanging out in Sparks for a little while- the place was really a small city. There was an auto show in town, so there were all these old restored cars prowling the streets. I was also introduced to In-N-Out burger by some of the already-initiated. Our build day was pretty standard- we built and stained a whole backyard perimeter fence as a group. The next day found us in some true greenery as we hopped over one side of the Sierra's and skirted around to South Lake Tahoe for a day off.

From the moment I saw it's Caribbean expanse peeking through the pine trees, I knew Tahoe was going to be special. And it was. It was just so big and clear, and the water was just the right temperature, and there were mountains framing the shore all the way around... magical. I spent the whole day off just lounging and whatever-ing. Swimming and paddle-boarding at the beach, eating,walking around town. It was very therapeutic final respite, especially for someone used to spending his summers near a huge body of water.

We thought our climb into the Sierra would be the last big one, but apparently we had to climb out too (funny how that works). The first half of our first real day into California was lots of (beautiful) climbing, but the second half was, very literally, all downhill. There were about seven thousand vertical feet to descend over fifty miles, and that meant minimal effort and lots of fun.

Our last three days plowing through California kind of blur together into a smattering of yellow rolling hills, farmers' markets, good weather, mercifully little climbing, building sentiments and building excitement.

Things come back into focus a little on our second to last ride day, riding over part of the Bay (water! ocean water!) into Palo Alto. That night was a late one, full of mutually designed and presented awards, nostalgic slide shows, signing each other's goodbye cards, and just general incredulity.

The final ride day... what can I say? I rode with Olivia and Josh (no rhyme or reason there, just ended up with them and thought they'd be good people to ride with on the last day) and we rode. There was one big hill to get over (part of the coastal range, the real last climb), and then just a little coasting along the coast. Everyone met up at a bike path and we rode the final mile together, laughing and joking. A quick and teary embrace with mom, dad and Anastasia (who made the trip out to see me finish, and I'm so thankful they did) was followed by a thirty-rider charge on cold, cold Half Moon Bay. We hugged, jumped on each other, got slammed by waves, ran through the whole gamut of cheers we had invented ("Chop bananas!", "Andy, Andy-man, Andrew!") and hugged some more. After the ceremonial tire-dipping, there was much food (provided generously by the many family and friends who had congregated to see us in), conversation, introductions and incredulous staring into space.

I was in Half Moon Bay for two more days of hanging out and goodbyes before flying home with my family. In a weird way, I think the group bonded even more in those few days at our final host. There was just this feeling that we had gone through something huge and intimate together, and no one else would ever understand the exact flavor of it. I made twenty-nine new best friends on this trip, and I sincerely hope that I'll be in touch with some, if not all, of these guys fifty years hence.

And so there you have it, I biked across the country. What did I learn? A lot, ask me the next time you see me, or read between the lines of my posts. Am I different for the experience? Yeah I think in a way; just a little more worldly, a little more confident in what I can accomplish. But what we did this summer isn't the big deal- it was the little in between things, the inside jokes, the relationships that spun themselves out, the hugs on the last day.

A year ago I had no idea that I'd have done this great thing. Bike and Build came to me in the right way at the right time in my life, and I'm so lucky that it all worked out. I can't think of a way that I'd rather have spent this summer.

So thank you everyone for reading this: fellow riders, donors, family, family of fellow riders, all of you. More than the scenery, the adventure, the build, this summer was, for me, about the people. You all helped, in your way, to make this summer what it was, so thank you. YOLO, YOBATCO, bonk hard, ride on. P2C '12 forever.

The Deseeeerrrrrtttttt

This post is going to be pretty barren, just of like the terrain we're riding through.

Since last time, we've finished up Colorado, powered through Utah and are now inching our way through Nevada. It's all been desert as of late, but lots of different kinds of desert- from the yellowy shrubby mountains to narrow red canyons to the big empty grayness we're in now.

Some highlights and lowlights: descending into a freezing rainstorm for ten miles on the way to Naturita, CO; getting asked to our little faux Bike and Build prom by the lovely Rachael via peanut butter jar; riding fifty miles off course with a few guys on the way to Moab, finding a desert resort in the middle of nowhere and getting a van to take us the now over a hundred miles to our destination; working with Community Rebuilds, a small affordable housing organization in Moab that builds homes using straw bales as support (apparently a legitimate sustainable building method); the day off in Moab, during which I went rafting down the Colorado River through some crazy canyons and rock formations; venturing out into the true, lonely, gray desert; and discovering that Nevada is in fact the most mountainous of the forty-eight contiguous states. It's been a pretty difficult stretch this last week- the terrain is just so monotonous now. Also, we've been camping and making our own food a lot, which is pretty fun.

The trip is really starting to wind down. Only four more days and we're in California! Crazy. Feeling a weird mix of excitement for the achievement and for returning to real life, and sadness that the adventure is almost over. I guess that's pretty normal. No service/internet for the rest of this state, so I guess my next post will be from California...

Between the Rockies and a Hard Place

It's official, we're in the Rocky Mountains! More on that in a second...

This last week was essentially our transition from the Midwest to the West west, across the plains and farmland of Nebraska and the eastern part of Colorado, which (who knew?) was actually flatter than Kansas.

The stark beauty of the plains continued to unroll before us as we said goodbye to Kansas and set out for Red Cloud, NE. The ride to Red Cloud (named for an old Native American chief) was notable for two big reasons: we hit 1) the world's biggest ball of twine, which I thought was an urban legend, and 2) the geographic center of the US, just before the Nebraska border. The ball of twine was cool just because it is one of those things you joke about seeing when doing a cross-country trip. Who knew we'd actually get to see it (I didn't until that morning). The ball itself was kind of what you'd expect. The best part of the stop was the nap I took next to it in someone's portable hammock- Bike and Build has converted me to a devout napper. Then there was the center of the continental US, about a half mile detour off our main road. There was a little memorial arch, a flag pole, and a mini chapel. Very cool, very symbolic. Took a nap there too. Oh, and we camped out in Red Cloud in a little public park next to a swimming pool in our brand new five person tents.

The ride to Alma the next day was short mileage-wise but long time-wise. Chris, one of the leaders, surprised us with a scavenger hunt at the morning meeting, so most of the day was spent finding/doing weird stuff ('climb a tree, 'take a nap in a weird place', 'draw some chalk art on the side of the road', etc.). My team, the Autobots, comprised of Rae, Ami, and myself, was an absolute supergroup and took second place with our unparalleled hay bale dance. McCook, where we rode the next day, was a nice little town with a nice little public pool we got to swim in, but I remember next to nothing about the ride there.

On the day into Holyoke, CO, we almost got caught in a rainstorm and took cover in a nice farmer's barn, a farmer who it just so happened had helped to host our trip in previous years- how 'bout that? The state sign for Colorado was cool, but I was disappointed that the corn didn't instantly give way to mountains (which is totally how it should work).

We finally saw those towering peaks as a haze in the distance on the ride to Loveland, a bigger town at the foot of the mountains. It was intimidating and awe-inspiring to see their huge forms gradually materializing, all the while knowing that we were going to have to pedal ourselves up there. And man, are these mountains beautiful. I've been to Colorado once before to ski, but I don't remember the Rockies being anything like this.

Loveland was a build day- landscaping, to be precise. We did edging, put in a rock bed and Planted some little pine trees for two houses, and it looked pretty darn professional when we were done. I also managed to get to a bike shop with some really competent mechanics who finally fixed this maddening click in my bottom bracket. This click had been driving me nuts, maybe a little unnecessarily, but not having to hear the sound of toe nail clippers with every pedal stroke while climbing in the heat made me a happy camper.

Speaking of climbing, the next day was the ride into Estes Park, a breezy thirty-miler that brought us up a few thousand feet into this touristy, happening town nestled between the mountains. The climbing wasn't too bad- the grades (measure of steepness) here are actually more gradual than those in the Appalachians because they use switchbacks, as opposed to roads straight up the slope. I definitely began to feel the altitude though- as the air got thinner, it felt like someone had latched an extra thirty pounds on to my bike. In any case, it was a beautiful ride through a gorge and up into Estes, where we stopped for lunch at a burger joint built into the hillside.

The next day (to Granby) was the biggest climb of the trip. Trail Ridge
Road is the highest continuous paved road in the US, reaching elevations of over twelve thousand feet, and we rode it. We started at around seven thousand in Estes, so it was about five thousand feet up over twenty miles. What made it hard for me wasn't really the climbing, it was the elevation. My muscles just fatigued very easily in the thin air. But it was truly beautiful, and so cool to just think about what we were doing. Oh, and another thing- it gets cold when you go so high up. It got down below sixty at one point, about a fifty degree difference from what we were dealing with on the plains. At the top there was a miraculous info station/cafe/gift shop where we ate warm food, blew money on trinkets and trophies and waited to cheer everyone in. The descent back down was crazy fun, whipping around switchbacks way too fast.

It's been two days since Trail Ridge, the first to Breckenridge and then (today) to Salida. The postcard scenery just keeps coming: huge blue lakes and reservoirs, scrubby slopes dotted with yellow and purple flowers, crystalline streams cutting through reedy fields, and the ever-present mountains in all shapes and sizes. I'm not doing this justice... maybe the pictures will help.

Before I finish up I just want to say a big thank you again to all of you who are reading this. Your support made this awesome trip possible, and your continued interest means a lot. Unfortunately, and obviously, I can't pack every little thing into this blog; what has made this summer life changing are the little in-between moments as much as the grand adventurous ones. But hopefully I'm giving people (all ten of you) a good idea. Pictures below, as usual in no particular order. Cheers.