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.
