This is a bittersweet day, as we are saying farewell to our Stage 4 crew of Dan Fishwick, Charles Breer, Sam Lombardo and Michael Novak. They have been energetic and good hearted companions. Next week will seem strange with only two riders. Gentlemen, we have grown accustomed to your faces, and we shall miss you.
At least we are ending this week on a high note. Last night’s time at the historic Swiss Alp Dance Hall was the highlight of the trip thus far. We were transported back in time, as the ancient hall filled with Texas couples in jeans, boots and Stetsons who two stepped their way through the spirited fiddling of the three Quebe sisters – the Texas swing version of the Dixie Chicks. Man, were they good. Age 24, 22 and 20, cute as bluebonnets, they have already been performing for 10 years, the past three full time. They had the old hall rocking with their three fiddles and three part harmonies. Check them out at www.quebesistersband.com
The last ride for this week was through the most scenic Texas landscapes yet. To me, the Texas hill country is reminiscent of western New South Wales in Australia. Semi arid pastureland, studded with stately live oaks, with frequent rivers lined with ancient cypress and willows. Cattle abound: we have seen Long Horns, Black Angus and the exotic Brahmins, with their camel like humps. Numerous goat ranches are in the steeper areas, and for some reason mules seem to be as common as horses. One mule took a particular liking to me; you might call it love at first sight. My companions were much amused.
The historical markers indicate that we are in an important area Texas history. We lunched at a park which is on the grounds of the original Baylor University. In nearby Independence we pedaled past the homestead of Sam Houston. Other markers commemorate the home sites for some of the “Old 300”, a term used for the families Stephen Austin recruited to settle Texas while it was still a part of Mexico. The Old 300 weren’t dumb. They took the choicest plots that Texas has to offer.
To those cyclists amongst our fans, a comment on what it is like to ride six (or even seven) days a week for four straight weeks. In some ways I am disappointed that I can’t step off my bicycle after cranking out 75 miles and feel fresh as a daisy. My legs are still tired at the end of the day, my posterior a bit raw, and my feet a bit numb. I am tired at night, falling into bed about 10 PM, and needing a solid eight hours if I am going to saddle up again. I really thought by now that my body would be so used to the daily routine that it wouldn’t even notice.
On the other hand, we are riding faster and faster without even trying. We used to finish our rides around 4 PM, now we are finishing around 2:30. A 14 mph average is now 16 or even 17 mph. In addition, the legs and other body parts recover more overnight. Our bodies are definitely ready for each new day. For middle aged road warriors, maybe that is the best we can hope for.
We are spending the weekend in Navasota Texas. After depositing our friends in Houston, we will pick up Curt Johnson, our driver for weeks five and six. May the good times continue to roll.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
CONTRAST tsartnoc
A day of contrast. 2 days ago we finished with temperatures in the 90’s. Now we have moved eastward out of Hill Country and started our day in the 40’s with a slight headwind. Our ride was about 72 miles, half of which was with single lane roads, lots of traffic and road construction. Although our net elevation didn’t change much from Lockhart to La Grange, we did plenty of climbing and sliding down short and long hills. The other half of the ride was the complete opposite – zero traffic, quiet winding roads through parks and gentle countryside and little wind.
Our route took us through 2 Texas State Parks which reduced the tension of riding alongside trucks. Once we paid our entry fee to the Park, we began a roller coaster ride through a tunnel created by a thick forest of Pine trees, which blocked the northeast wind. The first Park, Bastrop State Park, was connected to the second, Buescher, by a long windy road with multiple 10 to 20% grade hills both up and down so speeds ranged from 5 to 40. This stretched out our team of 5, which till now had been together since the day’s start. Now each of us was on our own with only the crudest directions, but somehow, we all were able to find Dan with Vanna waiting in another superb setting for lunch. Once again, Dan found a perfect spot with great shade overlooking the large lake in Buescher Park. Today’s lunch included a new staple- salmon- thanks to Scott from last weeks trip. There are several salmon eaters now making a variety of sandwiches.
The afternoon included a nice 20 mile stretch on a rarely used country road and gave us hope that as we move east, the hills are starting to disappear. That connected to a busier artery and we have noticed that as we approached the Austin area from the south and Houston area from the west, traffic and commercial activity has definitely picked up. We are definitely in the middle of Texas now and it should be even busier as we move east.
La Grange Texas. We had hoped for a Friday night football game here but the local team is playing Navasota tonight in Navasota – our destination tomorrow. The town has a population of about 5000 and sits along the Colorado River. It is the County seat and like most of these small Texas towns, the square is built around the courthouse – which is incredible. Built in the 1800’s and recently restored, and has a 5 story Atrium over a beautiful fountain. The place was a beehive with elections coming up and lots of people voting early. Outside the courthouse, which is in the middle of the square, There was another amazing site. The four streets surrounding are line with stores and restaurants but today, the Friday before Halloween, was the annual trick or treat. We got here just in time to see hundreds if t=not thousands of young ones walking around to all the local vendors for treats. I have never seen so many kids in one place in costume (and parents as well). Interestingly, there is a strong German and Czech heritage here and some influence by the Swiss. In fact tonight, without a football game, we are going to the Swiss Alps Dance Hall down the road to hear a Texas Swing band that is staying in our Hotel tonight – The Quebe Sisters. Dan caught a quick fiddle lesson from their arranger before we beat the trail for dinner and music. You simply couldn’t find this stuff if you were looking for it – you have to stumble into – and we did.
Map to date:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/119128839074344788
Thanks for Following - Carl
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Warts Wind and all
Today's Blogger is Dan Fishwick.
I’m not sure there has been a time in my life that I have spent two straight weeks in a state other than Ohio, with a different town each night and others through the day. Three out of Peter and Carl’s seven weeks will have been spent in Texas. Now it’s hard to believe that my own part in this trek is nearly over.
Bicycling seems like such a simple sport/form of transportation. Get on a bike and go. But listen in to our conversations and you will hear about complexities and nuances you never dreamed of. Bike-shoes- and-pedals is one of those things. The better riders wear clip-on shoes with special pedals to clip onto. These take a little getting used to, but everyone who has tried them swear they’re the only way to go because you apply energy both on the downward motion and the pull-up motion of your legs. Sam and I have been using toe-straps and tennis shoes, not so efficient, but when we get off in town we don’t click around the cafes like lost tap or ice dancers. Then there’s the plain flat pedal.
We’ve met up with another Adventure Cycling group the last few days. One of their lead cyclists is a man of about hundred years in age, always in sleeveless cotton shirts, probably getting a little vacation before he returns to the North Pole to prepare for the holidays. Anyway, he’s a flat pedal guy in Birkenstock sandals. Thinks all the rest of us are wooses, I’m sure.
Other issues are about the kind of bike you ride, best alloys, gearing ratios, maintenance, fixing flats, etc., and proper nutrition and supplements you need to carry on and on and on. No need to go on. During the day most of our conversations at stops has to do with the deadly or heavenly variables: temperature, rain, wind, traffic, road conditions, and hills. Today the temperature, dry air, and general road conditions were the heavenly part. That simply means nobody mentioned them.
Ah, but the wind. A front is coming in from the north today and blowing hard, whistling even through the walls of the motel room in Lockhart where I write. On a windless road (no such thing in Texas, so let’s say crosswind), you can average maybe 16 mph. Get a wind to your back and you can cruise in the low twenties. But when you turn into a nasty headwind you’re slogging along at 8 to 10. Same effort if you’re geared right, just takes you twice as long to get there. We had a serious study of all kinds of wind today.
We came out of the Texas hill country this morning, leaving Blanco and its surrounding ranches of what one might guess to be the retreats of the more well-heeled San Antonio crowd. These were marked by sliding gates, the name of the ranch in ornate metal works, and tasteful landscaping along a massive stone wall. The towns of Wimberly and Kyle began to have a more suburban feel—beautiful town squares whose old general stores now housed art boutiques of bronze sculptures of the Wild West, or real estate agents, or yoga centers.
The ubiquitous pick-up trucks of West Texas have given way to people driving SUVs, living near the interstate (I-35) and commuting to Austin. Several in the group remarked that these folks took up more than their share of the road, drove fast, and often blasted their horns as they passed. One guy went by me as I was hugging the thin white line on the edge of the road with maybe six inches between me and a deep ditch. He honked and I saw him pointing as he went by to indicate, I suppose, that I should have been cycling in the ditch. My theory is that most of these commuters are not from here (Texas), but they have come to (mis)understand the slogan “Don’t Mess with Texas” (actually begun as an anti-littering campaign) to mean “Don’t mess with me.”
The ride to Lockhart has taken us back into a lower, flatter land of agriculture. The sides of the road have a coating of cotton, blown from fields. There are surprising housing developments sprung from old farms, reminding me of the aerials I’ve seen of Medina (Ohio) with it’s beautiful downtown and the subdivisions mixed in with cornfields. As we turned right in old and charming Lockhart to get to our motel a couple miles south, we biked on a wide highway flanked by all of America’s well-known franchises. At one intersection, a red light that was maybe too long, Charles (Breer) perused the landscape and said something like “How did it get like this?”
It’s a wide and beautiful country, warts, wind and all. And this is the way to see it. I’ve enjoyed this group and our travels together. Stay safe.
I’m not sure there has been a time in my life that I have spent two straight weeks in a state other than Ohio, with a different town each night and others through the day. Three out of Peter and Carl’s seven weeks will have been spent in Texas. Now it’s hard to believe that my own part in this trek is nearly over.
Bicycling seems like such a simple sport/form of transportation. Get on a bike and go. But listen in to our conversations and you will hear about complexities and nuances you never dreamed of. Bike-shoes- and-pedals is one of those things. The better riders wear clip-on shoes with special pedals to clip onto. These take a little getting used to, but everyone who has tried them swear they’re the only way to go because you apply energy both on the downward motion and the pull-up motion of your legs. Sam and I have been using toe-straps and tennis shoes, not so efficient, but when we get off in town we don’t click around the cafes like lost tap or ice dancers. Then there’s the plain flat pedal.
We’ve met up with another Adventure Cycling group the last few days. One of their lead cyclists is a man of about hundred years in age, always in sleeveless cotton shirts, probably getting a little vacation before he returns to the North Pole to prepare for the holidays. Anyway, he’s a flat pedal guy in Birkenstock sandals. Thinks all the rest of us are wooses, I’m sure.
Other issues are about the kind of bike you ride, best alloys, gearing ratios, maintenance, fixing flats, etc., and proper nutrition and supplements you need to carry on and on and on. No need to go on. During the day most of our conversations at stops has to do with the deadly or heavenly variables: temperature, rain, wind, traffic, road conditions, and hills. Today the temperature, dry air, and general road conditions were the heavenly part. That simply means nobody mentioned them.
Ah, but the wind. A front is coming in from the north today and blowing hard, whistling even through the walls of the motel room in Lockhart where I write. On a windless road (no such thing in Texas, so let’s say crosswind), you can average maybe 16 mph. Get a wind to your back and you can cruise in the low twenties. But when you turn into a nasty headwind you’re slogging along at 8 to 10. Same effort if you’re geared right, just takes you twice as long to get there. We had a serious study of all kinds of wind today.
We came out of the Texas hill country this morning, leaving Blanco and its surrounding ranches of what one might guess to be the retreats of the more well-heeled San Antonio crowd. These were marked by sliding gates, the name of the ranch in ornate metal works, and tasteful landscaping along a massive stone wall. The towns of Wimberly and Kyle began to have a more suburban feel—beautiful town squares whose old general stores now housed art boutiques of bronze sculptures of the Wild West, or real estate agents, or yoga centers.
The ubiquitous pick-up trucks of West Texas have given way to people driving SUVs, living near the interstate (I-35) and commuting to Austin. Several in the group remarked that these folks took up more than their share of the road, drove fast, and often blasted their horns as they passed. One guy went by me as I was hugging the thin white line on the edge of the road with maybe six inches between me and a deep ditch. He honked and I saw him pointing as he went by to indicate, I suppose, that I should have been cycling in the ditch. My theory is that most of these commuters are not from here (Texas), but they have come to (mis)understand the slogan “Don’t Mess with Texas” (actually begun as an anti-littering campaign) to mean “Don’t mess with me.”
The ride to Lockhart has taken us back into a lower, flatter land of agriculture. The sides of the road have a coating of cotton, blown from fields. There are surprising housing developments sprung from old farms, reminding me of the aerials I’ve seen of Medina (Ohio) with it’s beautiful downtown and the subdivisions mixed in with cornfields. As we turned right in old and charming Lockhart to get to our motel a couple miles south, we biked on a wide highway flanked by all of America’s well-known franchises. At one intersection, a red light that was maybe too long, Charles (Breer) perused the landscape and said something like “How did it get like this?”
It’s a wide and beautiful country, warts, wind and all. And this is the way to see it. I’ve enjoyed this group and our travels together. Stay safe.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
A "Comfort" able ride to Blanco, Texas
Charles Breer here guest blogging on Week 4 of the Fill This HouseTranscontinental ride of Peter Conway and Carl Tippit. I’m Peter’s cousin and just thrilled to be able to join him during part of his long-time dream to ride across the country.
What a day we had today! We managed to successfully navigate about 30 turns on our winding route through the heart of the Texas Hill Country in our 68-mile ride from Ingram to Blanco. (By contrast, yesterday we had only one turn.) Carl informs me that he and Peter crossed the halfway point today in terms of both mileage and number of days and they are looking just great.
The first 44 miles to our lunch stop in Sisterdale was truly delightful. The route was a gradual downhill, we had a tailwind and, for a while, a light mist, as we wandered across the countryside on the smoothest roads yet in Texas. Fellow rider Sam Lombardo came into his own on this stretch, feeling reinvigorated after his gears got a thorough tune-up, courtesy of the Hill Country Bicycle Works in Kerrville. Everything seemed to come together for Sam and it was rewarding to see him having such a good time on the bike.
The Hill Country has exceeded all of our expectations in just about every way. The roads are quiet, the drivers are friendly and the scenery is very nice – not what I would have imagined in Texas. There’s plenty of the typical dry scrub ranch land, but this part of Texas has many more trees and scenic river valleys than we saw further west. Also, this area clearly has more people, which means that the towns and villages are closer together and they have been charming and historic. We especially enjoyed the town of Comfort, which had a classic main street and many historic markers.
Today’s highlight on the road had to have been the historic marker commemorating the site of an armadillo farm, just outside Comfort. The innovation in this case was that the family became famous and prosperous making baskets from armadillo shells. Peter religiously stops at all historical markers and he rated this the best of the trip so far.
Our accommodations in Blanco tonight are a 3-bedroom cottage, owned by the Blanco County Inn and it’s been great to have a real house to stay in. It is fully furnished, with a nice living and dining room, so we elected to have dinner at “home”. Our driver, Dan Fishwick, along with fellow guest rider Michael Novak took charge of the dinner preparations, which resulted in pasta with special sauce, salad, garlic bread, avocado halves and ice cream for dessert. Nice to not be in a restaurant for dinner tonight. We were even able to do several loads of laundry for free! Now the guys are all watching the first game of the World Series together in our communal living room.
The town of Blanco isn’t large, but it is arranged around an old courthouse building, with a classic wild west-type square, complete with post office, pharmacy, bank, BBQ joint and several antique shops. Really charming!
Although I’m just joining for a week, I am reminded how wonderful it is to ride across the country at bicycle speed, taking in the nature, the culture, the smells and the sights. Best of all is being able to share these experiences with my cousin Peter and his great friends and fellow riders. We are all lucky to be here.
Want to see the ride so far? Here is the link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego/949128821425827364
What a day we had today! We managed to successfully navigate about 30 turns on our winding route through the heart of the Texas Hill Country in our 68-mile ride from Ingram to Blanco. (By contrast, yesterday we had only one turn.) Carl informs me that he and Peter crossed the halfway point today in terms of both mileage and number of days and they are looking just great.
The first 44 miles to our lunch stop in Sisterdale was truly delightful. The route was a gradual downhill, we had a tailwind and, for a while, a light mist, as we wandered across the countryside on the smoothest roads yet in Texas. Fellow rider Sam Lombardo came into his own on this stretch, feeling reinvigorated after his gears got a thorough tune-up, courtesy of the Hill Country Bicycle Works in Kerrville. Everything seemed to come together for Sam and it was rewarding to see him having such a good time on the bike.
The Hill Country has exceeded all of our expectations in just about every way. The roads are quiet, the drivers are friendly and the scenery is very nice – not what I would have imagined in Texas. There’s plenty of the typical dry scrub ranch land, but this part of Texas has many more trees and scenic river valleys than we saw further west. Also, this area clearly has more people, which means that the towns and villages are closer together and they have been charming and historic. We especially enjoyed the town of Comfort, which had a classic main street and many historic markers.
Today’s highlight on the road had to have been the historic marker commemorating the site of an armadillo farm, just outside Comfort. The innovation in this case was that the family became famous and prosperous making baskets from armadillo shells. Peter religiously stops at all historical markers and he rated this the best of the trip so far.
Our accommodations in Blanco tonight are a 3-bedroom cottage, owned by the Blanco County Inn and it’s been great to have a real house to stay in. It is fully furnished, with a nice living and dining room, so we elected to have dinner at “home”. Our driver, Dan Fishwick, along with fellow guest rider Michael Novak took charge of the dinner preparations, which resulted in pasta with special sauce, salad, garlic bread, avocado halves and ice cream for dessert. Nice to not be in a restaurant for dinner tonight. We were even able to do several loads of laundry for free! Now the guys are all watching the first game of the World Series together in our communal living room.
The town of Blanco isn’t large, but it is arranged around an old courthouse building, with a classic wild west-type square, complete with post office, pharmacy, bank, BBQ joint and several antique shops. Really charming!
Although I’m just joining for a week, I am reminded how wonderful it is to ride across the country at bicycle speed, taking in the nature, the culture, the smells and the sights. Best of all is being able to share these experiences with my cousin Peter and his great friends and fellow riders. We are all lucky to be here.
Want to see the ride so far? Here is the link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego/949128821425827364
When Johnnies come marching home
Today's blog is authored by Sam Lombardo.
Tuesday 6:00 am Sabinal River Lodge
Michael and I began to share enthusiastically about the day ahead of us and at 6:03 we heard loud pounding on the wall next to us, I suggested to Michael it was someone on our team just making sure we were up. He said no Sam, the knock was telling us to shut up so they could get more shut eye.
7:00 am Lost Maple Diner
Peter asked Kathy if he could have a banana with his oatmeal and she said yeah right. She said it with a sense of humor and we immediately realized Utopia is a very special place indeed. Charles ordered one Pancake instead of two. Good thing the pancake was about 1.5 inches thick and hung over the side of the 12 inch plate. On our walk back to the lodge we met Bill, Utopia’s Justice of the Peace. We told Dave Cook, who was so encouraged that we met him. Bill is originally from Utopia and has been the town’s spiritual leader for many years.
8:1 5am Golf at The Links of Utopia
As Charles and I drove around in a golf cart taking pictures, David Cook led the rest in playing nine holes at the Links of Utopia. I must say the stories, the friendship, visiting Waresville Cemetery, meeting Robert the General Manager and hearing him tell the about Golf’s Sacred Journey, hitting with Hickory sticks coupled with the breath taking scenery made all of us feel like we were dreaming.
2:00 pm Up the Vanderpool Cut
When we were leaving, David was a bit apologetic that his dad, a dynamite salesman, did not use more dynamite in order to make the Vanderpool climb less severe. He then went on to inform us that this hill is the steepest hill in Texas. I thought it would be nice to see my family again this side of heaven, which is why I chose to keep Dan company as we rode up the Vanderpool Cut in Vanna. As I sat on top of Vanderpool Mountain and was just starting to write my blog as Danny played the fiddle, I thought I had at least two hours before anyone made it to the top. I think maybe 20 minutes went by and Charles rides up over to us and goes: “How you doing, it sure is nice up here”. My jaw hit the floor!! I was shocked because I did not know how I could have missed the helicopter that must have transported him up. Minutes later Carl shows up, then Peter, then Michael. I thought to myself, who are these people? They are like middle aged Green Berets. The remainder of this ride was brutal. Did I say brutal? This is the heart of Texas hill country.
6:00 pm Hunter House In
After check in, Carl and I went to the bike shop. We returned an hour and a half later, finally sitting down to dinner about 8:00. Let’s just say the majority of our conversation at dinner was unbloggable. We laughed hard and had a ball. I think we were all semi delirious from the strenuous ride after the bliss of Utopia. We then stopped at WalMart to replenish our supplies. It is now 10:45pm and I am in the room typing this blog. What is so amazing is the incredible stamina everyone has. Everyone works together as a team and cannot do enough for each other well into the evening.
Everybody here this week has been such an encouragement to me. My fear was that I would hold them back or just frustrate these seasoned veterans with all the headaches that come from a first time cyclist. These fears have proven groundless; nonetheless I must stop now because I am about to collapse.
Tuesday 6:00 am Sabinal River Lodge
Michael and I began to share enthusiastically about the day ahead of us and at 6:03 we heard loud pounding on the wall next to us, I suggested to Michael it was someone on our team just making sure we were up. He said no Sam, the knock was telling us to shut up so they could get more shut eye.
7:00 am Lost Maple Diner
Peter asked Kathy if he could have a banana with his oatmeal and she said yeah right. She said it with a sense of humor and we immediately realized Utopia is a very special place indeed. Charles ordered one Pancake instead of two. Good thing the pancake was about 1.5 inches thick and hung over the side of the 12 inch plate. On our walk back to the lodge we met Bill, Utopia’s Justice of the Peace. We told Dave Cook, who was so encouraged that we met him. Bill is originally from Utopia and has been the town’s spiritual leader for many years.
8:1 5am Golf at The Links of Utopia
As Charles and I drove around in a golf cart taking pictures, David Cook led the rest in playing nine holes at the Links of Utopia. I must say the stories, the friendship, visiting Waresville Cemetery, meeting Robert the General Manager and hearing him tell the about Golf’s Sacred Journey, hitting with Hickory sticks coupled with the breath taking scenery made all of us feel like we were dreaming.
2:00 pm Up the Vanderpool Cut
When we were leaving, David was a bit apologetic that his dad, a dynamite salesman, did not use more dynamite in order to make the Vanderpool climb less severe. He then went on to inform us that this hill is the steepest hill in Texas. I thought it would be nice to see my family again this side of heaven, which is why I chose to keep Dan company as we rode up the Vanderpool Cut in Vanna. As I sat on top of Vanderpool Mountain and was just starting to write my blog as Danny played the fiddle, I thought I had at least two hours before anyone made it to the top. I think maybe 20 minutes went by and Charles rides up over to us and goes: “How you doing, it sure is nice up here”. My jaw hit the floor!! I was shocked because I did not know how I could have missed the helicopter that must have transported him up. Minutes later Carl shows up, then Peter, then Michael. I thought to myself, who are these people? They are like middle aged Green Berets. The remainder of this ride was brutal. Did I say brutal? This is the heart of Texas hill country.
6:00 pm Hunter House In
After check in, Carl and I went to the bike shop. We returned an hour and a half later, finally sitting down to dinner about 8:00. Let’s just say the majority of our conversation at dinner was unbloggable. We laughed hard and had a ball. I think we were all semi delirious from the strenuous ride after the bliss of Utopia. We then stopped at WalMart to replenish our supplies. It is now 10:45pm and I am in the room typing this blog. What is so amazing is the incredible stamina everyone has. Everyone works together as a team and cannot do enough for each other well into the evening.
Everybody here this week has been such an encouragement to me. My fear was that I would hold them back or just frustrate these seasoned veterans with all the headaches that come from a first time cyclist. These fears have proven groundless; nonetheless I must stop now because I am about to collapse.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Today's Guest Blogger is Michael Novak:
We started our day from Brackettville after riding 34 miles yesterday (from our original start in Del Rio). Yesterday De Rio hit a record high of 92 and today it was another record at 96. So much for a mild October in Texas. With the record heat and a long ride scheduled for today (82 miles), we planned appropriately to split up the day – even though it took away from the normal “day of rest” on Sunday. Our target was Utopia, Texas.
This week we have three and a half guest riders (Sam, Michael, Charles and Dan – one-half because Sam and Dan are taking turns riding as well as driving Vanna). We are a welcome addition to the odd couple of Peter and Carl. They are starting to finish each other’s sentences and bicker about the mapping of our routes. I guess three weeks together has had a marital effect on them.
My bike was finally delivered from FedEx, so I was able to join the rest of our loose peloton. My stock tip for today – go long on UPS and short FedEx. It was a great feeling to be on familiar equipment. Carl was kind enough to lend me his bike yesterday to ride, but my body was in desperate need of my long lost friend.
While the normal route planned for today would have taken us through a mountainous Camp Wood and Leakey, we re-routed to the south. Charles, who is our resident professional rider, went on the original route unsupported by Vanna. He is a machine, and is amazing to watch cycle. Even though the rest of us took off some elevation and miles on the new route, we now have a new appreciation (more like DE-preciation) for the term “chip and seal”. This is effectively tarring the road surface and throwing pebbles over the top. Our bikes and teeth rattled for many miles as we struggled to find a smooth path on state Route 90.
After one wrong turn from me, we ended our ride at the Sabinal River Lodge – probably the best place we will stay for the week. It is a lodge crafted out of Texas cedar and nestled along the Sabinal River (which we crossed twice during the day). Dan took a quick dip in the cool, clear water and emerged refreshed after his uphill climb. The rest of us relaxed over some cold Coronas on the back deck of the lodge. What a beautiful setting. We are now entering the “hill country” of Texas, and the landscape is changing from scrub and desert to cedar and pine trees.
The real news from today was not the ride itself (which was rough in the heat), but our dinner with David Cook at the Lost Maples Café. David is the author of the book “Golf’s Sacred Journey”. No only was this on Peter’s bucket list, but it has also been one of his dreams – to go to Utopia and live some of the book. On the last part of our ride, we rode past the Utopia golf course and the Waresville cemetery. At dinner, David entertained us with the background for the making of the book into a film, showed us the final trailer, and told stories of the characters in the film (like Robert Duvall). We won’t spoil the movie for you, but the story of how PGA professional golfer KJ Choi (who plays the antagonist role of TK Oh in the movie) met David and was chosen for a key film role is unreal. Ask any one of us for more details.
After stuffing our weakened bodies with famous Texas dishes like chicken fried steak and buttermilk pie, we all piled into David’s vintage Ford 250 and took a quick tour of Utopia and the parts of it that were in the film. We finished the day back on the deck at the lodge watching the first trailer (which was changed) and various scenes from the movie. It comes out in the spring of 2011 and will be well worth the wait.
Guest blogger note: please check out this movie at http://www.sevendaysinutopiablog.com/.
Many of us on the trip have been moved by David Cook and his incredible story and message. We feel that more of you will feel the same as we do. God bless.
To see all of the miles we have traveled to date, click on this link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/san-diego/184128793598634354
We started our day from Brackettville after riding 34 miles yesterday (from our original start in Del Rio). Yesterday De Rio hit a record high of 92 and today it was another record at 96. So much for a mild October in Texas. With the record heat and a long ride scheduled for today (82 miles), we planned appropriately to split up the day – even though it took away from the normal “day of rest” on Sunday. Our target was Utopia, Texas.
This week we have three and a half guest riders (Sam, Michael, Charles and Dan – one-half because Sam and Dan are taking turns riding as well as driving Vanna). We are a welcome addition to the odd couple of Peter and Carl. They are starting to finish each other’s sentences and bicker about the mapping of our routes. I guess three weeks together has had a marital effect on them.
My bike was finally delivered from FedEx, so I was able to join the rest of our loose peloton. My stock tip for today – go long on UPS and short FedEx. It was a great feeling to be on familiar equipment. Carl was kind enough to lend me his bike yesterday to ride, but my body was in desperate need of my long lost friend.
While the normal route planned for today would have taken us through a mountainous Camp Wood and Leakey, we re-routed to the south. Charles, who is our resident professional rider, went on the original route unsupported by Vanna. He is a machine, and is amazing to watch cycle. Even though the rest of us took off some elevation and miles on the new route, we now have a new appreciation (more like DE-preciation) for the term “chip and seal”. This is effectively tarring the road surface and throwing pebbles over the top. Our bikes and teeth rattled for many miles as we struggled to find a smooth path on state Route 90.
After one wrong turn from me, we ended our ride at the Sabinal River Lodge – probably the best place we will stay for the week. It is a lodge crafted out of Texas cedar and nestled along the Sabinal River (which we crossed twice during the day). Dan took a quick dip in the cool, clear water and emerged refreshed after his uphill climb. The rest of us relaxed over some cold Coronas on the back deck of the lodge. What a beautiful setting. We are now entering the “hill country” of Texas, and the landscape is changing from scrub and desert to cedar and pine trees.
The real news from today was not the ride itself (which was rough in the heat), but our dinner with David Cook at the Lost Maples Café. David is the author of the book “Golf’s Sacred Journey”. No only was this on Peter’s bucket list, but it has also been one of his dreams – to go to Utopia and live some of the book. On the last part of our ride, we rode past the Utopia golf course and the Waresville cemetery. At dinner, David entertained us with the background for the making of the book into a film, showed us the final trailer, and told stories of the characters in the film (like Robert Duvall). We won’t spoil the movie for you, but the story of how PGA professional golfer KJ Choi (who plays the antagonist role of TK Oh in the movie) met David and was chosen for a key film role is unreal. Ask any one of us for more details.
After stuffing our weakened bodies with famous Texas dishes like chicken fried steak and buttermilk pie, we all piled into David’s vintage Ford 250 and took a quick tour of Utopia and the parts of it that were in the film. We finished the day back on the deck at the lodge watching the first trailer (which was changed) and various scenes from the movie. It comes out in the spring of 2011 and will be well worth the wait.
Guest blogger note: please check out this movie at http://www.sevendaysinutopiablog.com/.
Many of us on the trip have been moved by David Cook and his incredible story and message. We feel that more of you will feel the same as we do. God bless.
To see all of the miles we have traveled to date, click on this link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/san-diego/184128793598634354
Sunday, October 24, 2010
On the Border
Saturday Oct. 23 – Our last day of Week 3 began with breakfast in the dark next to the frog pool at the Oasis Inn in Sanderson, TX. With supplies from the Stripes Truck Stop/Quicky mart across the street, we managed to get Vanna packed early for our shuttle to yesterday’s ride end. Although it was going to be our longest ride of the week, about 89 miles, it was supposed to be a bit easier with a gradual descent all day. And we have found that when we approach major cities, the road surface improves – but not in West Texas. It was a rough surface called chip n seal, we had a head wind the entire ride and there was almost as much climbing as there was free wheelin’ downhill. The landscape had also mellowed as we only went through one town, plus countless prairies and dried out rivers. We were getting sluggish. I even got a sting from a bee that flew into my helmet through the air slots (I was told that was blog-worthy).
But 60 miles into the ride, Charles Breer was smiling and waiting for us. Charles is one of Week 4’s riders and easily the most accomplished rider of our entire group. (He has already ridden over 12,000 miles this year). He had arrived early into Del Rio and rode out to greet us. His fresh legs and attitude inspired us all for the last 30 miles.
The final segment featured a ride across the bridge over the Amistad Reservoir, a beautiful span of water that straddles the US-Mexican border. The bridge was uneventful except for Scott, who managed to get his 3rd flat only 10 miles from the finish of a 444 mile ride. Scott noted that he used to think that hills were a significant factor in how tough a ride was, but he now puts road surface and wind ahead.
Del Rio, population about 37,000, is a relatively small Texas city but has all the makings of a big time town. The ride in featured a return to Wal-Mart, fast food, movie theaters and traffic. I have never seen so many pickup trucks, most with a trailer hitched to them.
We learned how different thing really were in Del Rio from 2 of Peter’s old friends from Cleveland, David and Julie Chalk. We met them at a great Steak restaurant called Cripple Creek where we all celebrated the successful and safe completion to Week 3 with our now traditional Margaritas. The Chalks have been here for 10 years now, leading one of the local churches and raising 2 kids. They are essentially a minority here where English is a second language. Many of the students in the schools come from wealthy Mexican families who transport their kids over the border every day. We told the Chalks about our constant contact with the Border Patrol since California and they opened our eyes to the reality of illegal crossings on a daily basis. Although the problem is much better than it used to be, thousands continue to get through each month, while thousands more get caught (usually for the 2nd or 3rd time) and released back to Mexico. It almost sounded like a game of capture the flag, but it is just an unfortunate part of daily life along the border. Luckily, Monday, we begin heading true east, away from the border.
So Week 3 ends with the departure of Scott Emerson who rode well through another rainless week despite 3 flats. His sense of humor was a break from Peter’s and my bad jokes and his tall frame was easy to see on the horizon when we got stretched out. Dan did a great job on his first week of support, logging nearly 100 miles of riding after hours. His fiddle playing at each rest stop added to the backdrop of the old west with mountain peaks, mesas and prairies surrounding. Next week, we will have Charles, Michael Novak and Sam Lombardo join us for our move to the middle of Texas and the heart of barbeque country.
Map to date:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/931128792219273332
Saturday, October 23, 2010
God Blessed Texas - sung by Little Texas
” First He lit the sunshine
Then He made the waters deep,
Then He gave us moonlight
For all the world to see.
Well everybody knows that the Lord works in mysterious ways,
He took a rest, then on the very next day……
God blessed Texas with His own hand,
Brought down angels from the promised land,
Gave 'em a place where they could dance,
If you wanna see heaven brother here's your chance.
I've been sent to spread the message -
God blessed Texas”
This song is on my iPod’s TRANSAM playlist. I love it. As we chip away at the mileage, I ruminate that fully 3 weeks of our seven week bike trip are spent in Texas. That’s almost 25% of our trip! Certainly Texas is huge. So, if God is into quantity, then Texas is indeed a blessed state.
However, today’s ride took us into parts of Texas where angels fear to tread. It is barren, windy, dry and empty. In the nearly 200 miles on Route 90 between Marathon and Del Rio, there are only two towns – Sanderson and Langtry. Sanderson is where we stay to night, a bustling metropolis of 861. Langtry, once home to the infamous Judge Roy Bean, has been called a ghost town with a visitor’s center. We pass through it tomorrow.
The ride itself today was pleasant enough. Up until lunch we had a tail wind and a gradual descent. We proceeded at a clip averaging 18 miles per hour. After lunch the winds shifted to the east and we had headwinds, but not too bad. We logged 85 miles.
How do you pass the time when there is nothing to look at but cacti, sagebrush and creosote bushes? Each of us has an iPod, and we fill our heads with music. Whether it makes good safety sense to wear headphones while riding is hotly debated. I fall in the camp that it is OK. I can see cars in my rear view mirror about half a mile away. Even without headphones I can only hear them when they are within 100 feet. The strongest point in favor of an iPod is that it can be energizing and stimulating when the scenery is not. Think of the way a sound track is used to enhance a film. Music is certainly enhancing my trip in just that way.
For my TransAM sound track, I have created playlists for the states we have traversed. Texas is easy; there are heaps of Texas songs.Whatever else you say about Texas, folks love to sing about her. In addition to God Blessed Texas, my Texas playlist includes: All my ex’s live in Texas, by George Strait, Texas in my rearview mirrorby Mac Davis, Beer for my horsesby Willie Nelson and Toby Keith, If your gonna play in Texas, you’ve gotta have a fiddle in the bandby Alabama, San Antonio Girlby Lyle Lovett, Texasby George Strait, Luckenbach Texasby Waylon Jennings , and When I die I want to go to Texas, by Tanya Tucker.
If you have any state related theme songs to suggest to me, please send me titles – we still have another two weeks of Texas to go!
Then He made the waters deep,
Then He gave us moonlight
For all the world to see.
Well everybody knows that the Lord works in mysterious ways,
He took a rest, then on the very next day……
God blessed Texas with His own hand,
Brought down angels from the promised land,
Gave 'em a place where they could dance,
If you wanna see heaven brother here's your chance.
I've been sent to spread the message -
God blessed Texas”
This song is on my iPod’s TRANSAM playlist. I love it. As we chip away at the mileage, I ruminate that fully 3 weeks of our seven week bike trip are spent in Texas. That’s almost 25% of our trip! Certainly Texas is huge. So, if God is into quantity, then Texas is indeed a blessed state.
However, today’s ride took us into parts of Texas where angels fear to tread. It is barren, windy, dry and empty. In the nearly 200 miles on Route 90 between Marathon and Del Rio, there are only two towns – Sanderson and Langtry. Sanderson is where we stay to night, a bustling metropolis of 861. Langtry, once home to the infamous Judge Roy Bean, has been called a ghost town with a visitor’s center. We pass through it tomorrow.
The ride itself today was pleasant enough. Up until lunch we had a tail wind and a gradual descent. We proceeded at a clip averaging 18 miles per hour. After lunch the winds shifted to the east and we had headwinds, but not too bad. We logged 85 miles.
How do you pass the time when there is nothing to look at but cacti, sagebrush and creosote bushes? Each of us has an iPod, and we fill our heads with music. Whether it makes good safety sense to wear headphones while riding is hotly debated. I fall in the camp that it is OK. I can see cars in my rear view mirror about half a mile away. Even without headphones I can only hear them when they are within 100 feet. The strongest point in favor of an iPod is that it can be energizing and stimulating when the scenery is not. Think of the way a sound track is used to enhance a film. Music is certainly enhancing my trip in just that way.
For my TransAM sound track, I have created playlists for the states we have traversed. Texas is easy; there are heaps of Texas songs.Whatever else you say about Texas, folks love to sing about her. In addition to God Blessed Texas, my Texas playlist includes: All my ex’s live in Texas, by George Strait, Texas in my rearview mirrorby Mac Davis, Beer for my horsesby Willie Nelson and Toby Keith, If your gonna play in Texas, you’ve gotta have a fiddle in the bandby Alabama, San Antonio Girlby Lyle Lovett, Texasby George Strait, Luckenbach Texasby Waylon Jennings , and When I die I want to go to Texas, by Tanya Tucker.
If you have any state related theme songs to suggest to me, please send me titles – we still have another two weeks of Texas to go!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Sagging West Texas
Today's guest blogger is Dan Fishwick.
And now for something of a different perspective, although Holly and Bill, sag drivers of the first two weeks, also logged in on the blog.
Personally, I’ve been getting in ten to twelve miles on the bike each day. Not great, I realize, but my average speed across Texas is probably 55-65 mph. Not bad, eh. You see, I have a job to do. It’s to zoom down the highway fifteen miles ahead of the cyclists, set up in a “shady” place and wait a few minutes before throwing out bananas and nutra-grain bars to a ravenous throng of three. That usually leaves plenty of time later for fiddling, looking at the wide vistas, and on foot exploring the nearby selection of succulents and cacti. Then I drive to town and get us set up in the pre-planned luxury accommodations. After everyone has come in, I try to jump on the bike myself and check out the back side of these dying west Texas towns. You won’t believe how many great shots I have of roofless barns, fallen windmills, rusted tractors and sagging signs advertising “home cooking” to bygone generations.
This morning we left Indian Lodge in Fort Davis. Quite a place. Indian Lodge looked like something out of Georgia O’Keefe’s file—thick adobe walls, courtyards, up a canyon with a brilliant night sky and a long look out to the desert in the morning. Indian Lodge and the Bear Restaurant was a 1930s WPA project completed just after the extirpation of Indians (and bears and bandits). So, inexplicably, they called it Indian Lodge. Coming down that canyon we had our first look at a group of peccaries or javelinas. These are, I suppose, feral pigs, similar to boars, but small, more like boar-lites.
If you’ve not been in western Texas, don’t worry, you’ve seen it. You can’t help thinking of the movies you’ve grown up with. As we headed out of Fort Davis, we were dwarfed by massive boulders on both sides. I imagined being ambushed just like the Lone Ranger and Tonto in every one of their episodes. And in this territory of old forts from the days of the post-war (Civil) Indian troubles (theirs), I kept expecting John Wayne to ride up on a white mount in his crispy-blue cavalry uniform to let me know I couldn’t park this van for more than five minutes at the turnout. The Border Patrol guys had to stand in for the Duke. They took me for a good guy.
But really the movie that I keep coming back to in these parts is The Last Picture Show.It’s about living in western Texas 30 or 40 years ago, clutching to a thread of livelihood and sanity. Not much left of the thread now. History out here seems to be measured in decisive chunks—1.before white men, 2. after Indians, 3.the train era, 4.the highway era, 5.interstates passing it all by. And what’s left is probably not a lot different from what it was a long time ago. Vast. Bright. Sparse.
After traversing some of the most beautiful country in this country, we came to Marathon, Texas. The main street has a few solid-looking stone buildings from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Smart enough looking to encourage a crop of boutiques and galleries, but this is west Texas, and in the corner of nearly every window was a “for sale” sign. Could be yours for a song. We are at Captain Shepherd’s Inn, a fabulous old home of the town founder. But it, too, is for sale and I had to run to a motel down the street to get the key. It’s a comfortable carriage house, complete with fireplace and full kitchen where we cooked a grand meal, the four of us celebrating another great day. From what I can tell, it might even be better than Marv’s, whose invitation to stay for free at his hostel we had to decline. Scott may be able to fill you in.
I like this place. I could live here. But not for long.
To see a map of our ride so far, follow this link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego/708128770032090074
And now for something of a different perspective, although Holly and Bill, sag drivers of the first two weeks, also logged in on the blog.
Personally, I’ve been getting in ten to twelve miles on the bike each day. Not great, I realize, but my average speed across Texas is probably 55-65 mph. Not bad, eh. You see, I have a job to do. It’s to zoom down the highway fifteen miles ahead of the cyclists, set up in a “shady” place and wait a few minutes before throwing out bananas and nutra-grain bars to a ravenous throng of three. That usually leaves plenty of time later for fiddling, looking at the wide vistas, and on foot exploring the nearby selection of succulents and cacti. Then I drive to town and get us set up in the pre-planned luxury accommodations. After everyone has come in, I try to jump on the bike myself and check out the back side of these dying west Texas towns. You won’t believe how many great shots I have of roofless barns, fallen windmills, rusted tractors and sagging signs advertising “home cooking” to bygone generations.
This morning we left Indian Lodge in Fort Davis. Quite a place. Indian Lodge looked like something out of Georgia O’Keefe’s file—thick adobe walls, courtyards, up a canyon with a brilliant night sky and a long look out to the desert in the morning. Indian Lodge and the Bear Restaurant was a 1930s WPA project completed just after the extirpation of Indians (and bears and bandits). So, inexplicably, they called it Indian Lodge. Coming down that canyon we had our first look at a group of peccaries or javelinas. These are, I suppose, feral pigs, similar to boars, but small, more like boar-lites.
If you’ve not been in western Texas, don’t worry, you’ve seen it. You can’t help thinking of the movies you’ve grown up with. As we headed out of Fort Davis, we were dwarfed by massive boulders on both sides. I imagined being ambushed just like the Lone Ranger and Tonto in every one of their episodes. And in this territory of old forts from the days of the post-war (Civil) Indian troubles (theirs), I kept expecting John Wayne to ride up on a white mount in his crispy-blue cavalry uniform to let me know I couldn’t park this van for more than five minutes at the turnout. The Border Patrol guys had to stand in for the Duke. They took me for a good guy.
But really the movie that I keep coming back to in these parts is The Last Picture Show.It’s about living in western Texas 30 or 40 years ago, clutching to a thread of livelihood and sanity. Not much left of the thread now. History out here seems to be measured in decisive chunks—1.before white men, 2. after Indians, 3.the train era, 4.the highway era, 5.interstates passing it all by. And what’s left is probably not a lot different from what it was a long time ago. Vast. Bright. Sparse.
After traversing some of the most beautiful country in this country, we came to Marathon, Texas. The main street has a few solid-looking stone buildings from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Smart enough looking to encourage a crop of boutiques and galleries, but this is west Texas, and in the corner of nearly every window was a “for sale” sign. Could be yours for a song. We are at Captain Shepherd’s Inn, a fabulous old home of the town founder. But it, too, is for sale and I had to run to a motel down the street to get the key. It’s a comfortable carriage house, complete with fireplace and full kitchen where we cooked a grand meal, the four of us celebrating another great day. From what I can tell, it might even be better than Marv’s, whose invitation to stay for free at his hostel we had to decline. Scott may be able to fill you in.
I like this place. I could live here. But not for long.
To see a map of our ride so far, follow this link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego/708128770032090074
Flying Fish
Today’s blog is written by Scott Emerson.
My fears of a barren, uninteresting landscape in west Texas have proved completely unfounded. We have travelled through wide valleys and mountain passes with ever-changing vistas of ranches, mountains and buttes everywhere, and lots to see along the route.
Monday, my first day, took us southwest along the Rio Grande, where irrigation allows farming for cotton, alfalfa and pecans. The mountains in Mexico paralleled the river to our right, looking like they were a formidable natural protection in the frontier days to banditos retreating back into Mexico. Tuesday we turned east away from the river, but we will meet up with it again later in the week after cutting off the Big Bend section. The ride took us across the Quitman Range into a valley where the land looked pretty unusable, mostly high desert with creosote bushes and mesquite trees.
Today’s ride was from Van Horn, TX to Fort Davis, TX, 81 miles; headwinds and cloud cover most of the day, with cooler temperature than the last couple of days. We headed south through a wide valley with the Davis Mountains, sometimes called the “Texas Alps”, running along its eastern side. At a higher elevation, the flat lands are now parched grassland with big longhorn cattle ranches. We started at dawn to get through the valley in the morning before heading east into the mountains.
Entertainment along the way was more of the same, without losing any of its novelty. At one ghost town I found parts of a wagon that must have been 100 years old, and tried to suggest we tie them onto Vanna’s roof. More road tarantulas, both alive and squashed, and the new addition of grasshoppers as big as my pinky that would spring into the air in front of you as you went by. I thought Carl and I were hallucinating when we spotted a large fish floating in the clouds to the south. We decided it was a Border Patrol blimp.
There were the usual Border Patrol drive-bys, but they are leaving Dan, Vanna and us alone now. We seem to be in their data base and no longer persons of interest.
Dan entertained us at rest stops with his fiddle, sometimes playing along with country music from the radio. I did not realize what a luxury Vanna would be. It is pure joy to see Vanna coming up on the horizon, just when we need it, waiting by the side of the road with cold drinks, snacks and an escape from the hot sun.
Today was Peter’s turn for flats. He got two, the latter being a slow leak at mile 65 which he chose not to change, requiring him to stop every so often on the last 15 to fill the tire.
After lunch we climbed a pass through the Davis Mountains, ending up at very nice State Park Lodge near Fort Davis, named for Jefferson Davis. The area gets some rain, and the vegetation is a mix of ponderosa pine, pinon, juniper, madrone and aspen. Many of the scenes in Lonesome Dove were filmed in this area. The lodge looks like an Indian pueblo and was built during the depression by the CCC. The rooms here are five star, compared to the last two nights’ digs. Makes me think of the long term return on the stimulus investments made during the 1930s. I wonder if that will happen with our current stimulus?
Many thanks to Peter, Carl and Dan for a great trip.
My fears of a barren, uninteresting landscape in west Texas have proved completely unfounded. We have travelled through wide valleys and mountain passes with ever-changing vistas of ranches, mountains and buttes everywhere, and lots to see along the route.
Monday, my first day, took us southwest along the Rio Grande, where irrigation allows farming for cotton, alfalfa and pecans. The mountains in Mexico paralleled the river to our right, looking like they were a formidable natural protection in the frontier days to banditos retreating back into Mexico. Tuesday we turned east away from the river, but we will meet up with it again later in the week after cutting off the Big Bend section. The ride took us across the Quitman Range into a valley where the land looked pretty unusable, mostly high desert with creosote bushes and mesquite trees.
Today’s ride was from Van Horn, TX to Fort Davis, TX, 81 miles; headwinds and cloud cover most of the day, with cooler temperature than the last couple of days. We headed south through a wide valley with the Davis Mountains, sometimes called the “Texas Alps”, running along its eastern side. At a higher elevation, the flat lands are now parched grassland with big longhorn cattle ranches. We started at dawn to get through the valley in the morning before heading east into the mountains.
Entertainment along the way was more of the same, without losing any of its novelty. At one ghost town I found parts of a wagon that must have been 100 years old, and tried to suggest we tie them onto Vanna’s roof. More road tarantulas, both alive and squashed, and the new addition of grasshoppers as big as my pinky that would spring into the air in front of you as you went by. I thought Carl and I were hallucinating when we spotted a large fish floating in the clouds to the south. We decided it was a Border Patrol blimp.
There were the usual Border Patrol drive-bys, but they are leaving Dan, Vanna and us alone now. We seem to be in their data base and no longer persons of interest.
Dan entertained us at rest stops with his fiddle, sometimes playing along with country music from the radio. I did not realize what a luxury Vanna would be. It is pure joy to see Vanna coming up on the horizon, just when we need it, waiting by the side of the road with cold drinks, snacks and an escape from the hot sun.
Today was Peter’s turn for flats. He got two, the latter being a slow leak at mile 65 which he chose not to change, requiring him to stop every so often on the last 15 to fill the tire.
After lunch we climbed a pass through the Davis Mountains, ending up at very nice State Park Lodge near Fort Davis, named for Jefferson Davis. The area gets some rain, and the vegetation is a mix of ponderosa pine, pinon, juniper, madrone and aspen. Many of the scenes in Lonesome Dove were filmed in this area. The lodge looks like an Indian pueblo and was built during the depression by the CCC. The rooms here are five star, compared to the last two nights’ digs. Makes me think of the long term return on the stimulus investments made during the 1930s. I wonder if that will happen with our current stimulus?
Many thanks to Peter, Carl and Dan for a great trip.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Thunder Road
It was going to be hard to have a better day than yesterday. I knew things would be different when Dan got out of bed this morning and immediately stepped on one of many painful little burs that cover western Texas. Then we found one stuck in my tire and yes it was flat – my 2nd.
We began the day where we left off last night, at the world famous Angie’s – the diner across from our Bates Motel and the only game in town. It is famous because it is in the bicycling logs and books as the place to eat when in Ft. Hancock. Once again, the “Texas Minutemen” we met the night before were having breakfast in their full camouflage fatigues. They were getting ready for a day of recon in the desert/fields.
Our ride today was shorter than originally planned because of the extra mileage we added yesterday. We rode about 60 miles mostly east, slightly uphill with 2 good climbs and a wind in our face most of the time. The real challenge was I-10, which was our route at the beginning and end of the day and was more than ½ our distance. Although the shoulders are real wide for cyclists and smooth, the roar of trucks and a speed limit of 80 outweighed the advantages. Hence the name Thunder Road. Scott had his 2nd flat in 2 days and had to change it on the Interstate. This occurred only a mile after the mandatory Border Inspection Station, which everyone must pass through on I-10. Because there was no lane for cyclists, we got escorted through with no wait and we learned that no aliens had been snagged but today had been a good one for drugs.
After lunch in another abandoned ghost town called Sierra Blanco, we spent 23 long uphill miles on a bumpy old route 10 that featured numerous Border Patrol cars that kept a close eye on us. It is pretty obvious now that the building of the Interstate had significant effects on many small towns with a population of less than 3000. As we spend a lot of time paralleling the Interstate, we have ridden through many towns each day with abandoned stores, houses, farms and businesses. It has been a sad eye opener for all of us. The finish line featured a quick stop for more carbs at Dairy Queen, which Peter declined. Scott and I agreed, when you are riding everyday, you could eat as much of this stuff as you want and still lose weight.
Of special note, we have unfortunately seen lots of roadkill including rabbits, snakes, deer, skunk etc. But today, Scott and Peter found a live Tarantula. It will be in week 3 pictures.
15 riding days, 14 sunny. It can’t last.
Map to Date:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/664128752965834893
Thanks for following us - Carl
Monday, October 18, 2010
Tex-Mex
Leaving the west Texas town of El Paso, we headed south along the Rio Grande towards Fort Hancock. We are in a foreign land. All of the stores and even road signs are Spanish, and white skin is a rarity. Not that this is unfriendly territory; certainly the motorists are the most courteous we have yet encountered. They follow us patiently, waiting until there is ample space before passing. I wish I could say the same for the local dogs. I was chased by three today, who set up a relay. As soon as I got past one snapping mongrel, his neighbor took up the chase. Fortunately they can’t outrun me. Another clever canine mounted a sneak attack. He was riding in a car, and as the car passed me, he stuck his head out the window and barked. I nearly fell over.
We have a new team this week; Dan Fishwick has joined us as SAGONEER, while Scott Emerson is riding this stage. Scott’s fresh legs made him endorse a plan we hatched at lunch to ride a further 15 miles. We had clear skies, temperatures in the low 80’s, flat terrain and a strong tail wind. We were flying at 20-25 miles per hour. A dramatic contrast to last week’s slow pace. There are more hills in our future, but for now, carpe diem.
We have had some good tex-mex cooking today. Based on a tip from our cycling guide, we stopped for lunch in Tornillo. La Calesa is the real deal. Home style enchiladas, tacos and flautas, fresh made salsa and chips. All we could eat for about $7 each.
The afternoon was full of adventure. Scott got a flat, due it appears, to a cactus thorn. While Dan assisted him, Carl and I pressed on through several ghost towns with names like Acala, McNary, and Esperanza. When Interstate 10 was built, these formerly main road towns became backwaters. Now there are four abandoned buildings for every one still occupied. And four of every five cars, and you only see about five an hour, is the Border Patrol. Apparently the border fence ends at Fort Hancock. Much activity like drug running and people smuggling occurs right where we were biking this afternoon.
Carl and I were looking at the map when a Border Patrol car stopped to ask if we were lost. He confirmed that we were in a high traffic area as far as border crossings go. This was confirmed tonight when we ran into 8 former marines who have come to town to track folks sneaking over the border. Apparently they are part of a larger group of civilians who organize their own patrols, supplementing the Border Patrol. Some of them are Korean War vets, others are probably Vietnam. None are spring chickens.
Fearing the worst, we asked what they do when they spot an illegal. They claim that they radio the Border Patrol and keep the suspects under surveillance until apprehended. Tonight they are going on a recon patrol. Scott wanted to join them, but we talked him out of it.
As we were talking to the Border Patrol, Dan passed us in Vanna on the way to our next stop. Looking for a place to pull over, Dan discovered that the sand on the side of the tarmac is like quicksand. In no time at all Vanna was stuck to the axles in fine sand. We were pushing and shoving to no avail when a Border Patrol car and a local farmer both appeared. The farmer borrowed one of my cargo straps and with much roaring of engines and spinning of tires he hauled Vanna out backwards. It was a close thing. Vanna was in deep.
Tonight we are lodged in the Fort Hancock Motel, which is probably the seediest we have yet encountered. But in this area of ghost towns and wetbacks it offers a bed and safety from both the predators and the prey in this no man’s land of two cultures.
We have a new team this week; Dan Fishwick has joined us as SAGONEER, while Scott Emerson is riding this stage. Scott’s fresh legs made him endorse a plan we hatched at lunch to ride a further 15 miles. We had clear skies, temperatures in the low 80’s, flat terrain and a strong tail wind. We were flying at 20-25 miles per hour. A dramatic contrast to last week’s slow pace. There are more hills in our future, but for now, carpe diem.
We have had some good tex-mex cooking today. Based on a tip from our cycling guide, we stopped for lunch in Tornillo. La Calesa is the real deal. Home style enchiladas, tacos and flautas, fresh made salsa and chips. All we could eat for about $7 each.
The afternoon was full of adventure. Scott got a flat, due it appears, to a cactus thorn. While Dan assisted him, Carl and I pressed on through several ghost towns with names like Acala, McNary, and Esperanza. When Interstate 10 was built, these formerly main road towns became backwaters. Now there are four abandoned buildings for every one still occupied. And four of every five cars, and you only see about five an hour, is the Border Patrol. Apparently the border fence ends at Fort Hancock. Much activity like drug running and people smuggling occurs right where we were biking this afternoon.
Carl and I were looking at the map when a Border Patrol car stopped to ask if we were lost. He confirmed that we were in a high traffic area as far as border crossings go. This was confirmed tonight when we ran into 8 former marines who have come to town to track folks sneaking over the border. Apparently they are part of a larger group of civilians who organize their own patrols, supplementing the Border Patrol. Some of them are Korean War vets, others are probably Vietnam. None are spring chickens.
Fearing the worst, we asked what they do when they spot an illegal. They claim that they radio the Border Patrol and keep the suspects under surveillance until apprehended. Tonight they are going on a recon patrol. Scott wanted to join them, but we talked him out of it.
As we were talking to the Border Patrol, Dan passed us in Vanna on the way to our next stop. Looking for a place to pull over, Dan discovered that the sand on the side of the tarmac is like quicksand. In no time at all Vanna was stuck to the axles in fine sand. We were pushing and shoving to no avail when a Border Patrol car and a local farmer both appeared. The farmer borrowed one of my cargo straps and with much roaring of engines and spinning of tires he hauled Vanna out backwards. It was a close thing. Vanna was in deep.
Tonight we are lodged in the Fort Hancock Motel, which is probably the seediest we have yet encountered. But in this area of ghost towns and wetbacks it offers a bed and safety from both the predators and the prey in this no man’s land of two cultures.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Blowin Into Texas
Week 2 did not blow by quickly. Lots of torture climbs and long rides, but we never went without sunshine. Our final day began in Las Cruces, NM, a smallish (75,000) community about 60 miles north of El Paso, Tx. Our first 25 miles took us through some great little towns you can only imagine… San Miguel, La Mesa, Mesquite and Chamberino. At one point we rode through a tunnel of Pecan trees where the temperature was 10 degrees cooler. We saw lots of cyclists today, mostly from El Paso. Some groups had SAG wagons like ours but the amusing part was that they crawled behind the riders – I thought Texans were macho. Mostly a flat ride today that covered about 70 miles. We stopped for lunch outside El Paso, after crossing our 4th state line in 13 days. We opted for the roundabout route into the city based on our experience last week in Phoenix. This turned out to be great detour of 17 miles and although it was longer, we had a bike lane on the local freeway – gotta love these western states with all these bike lanes. It was like our own personal bike path, though a bit noisy.
So now we rest after a long 2 weeks of riding. To date we have covered 888 miles, climbed 31,300 feet and descended 27,800 feet leaving our elevation near 4,000 ft. We have had only 1 flat and 2 wrong turns so far. Most importantly, our MVS’s (Most Valuable Sagoneers) are leaving us after today. Bill and Holly Burgess have been alongside us every mile with supplies, food, drinks, and encouragement. They have set the bar way too high; in fact I know Dan and Curt have no interest in many of the “extras” that Holly and Bill provided. Pedro and I (Carlos), our new names for traveling through New Mexico and Texas, have been spoiled rotten and loved every minute. They are great friends and we are very appreciative of their over the top efforts.
Now we look forward to Stage 3, with Dan Fishwick joining us as our Driver and part time rider and Scott Emerson . We won't cross another state line for 3 weeks - Texas is kinda big.
Our day off is tomorrow and we will try to get some new pics up for those interested.
Our week ended Week 2 at the 2nd W on the map at this link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/937128727666
Thanks for following us - CarlFriday, October 15, 2010
Hop Skipping through New Mexico
We are blaming Scott Emerson and Dan Fishwick. If they had not insisted that we meet them in El Paso on Saturday, we could have pedaled every mile this week and avoided hop skipping over some segments to keep on schedule. Now, the unbiased observer might comment that, fit as we are, Carl and I bit off more than we could chew this week. The observer has some valid points. Carl and I added in an alternate route to the Gila Cliff Dwellers and Heart Bar cabin, making this week’s total over 600 miles in six days. Six mountain centuries in a row may be child’s play for the likes of Lance Armstrong, Charles Breer and Jane Geisse, but we amateurs have only been able to manage one century. The numbers of mountains to climb and the unexpected headwinds have taken their toll. We needed another two days of mountain climbing to avoid shuttling in Vanna, but because of Scott and Dan, we have had to keep pace. That is why we are blaming them.
So, after shuttling 55 miles this morning to get us over Emory Pass (8228) and Star Peak (6818), we started our day’s ride on top of a hill near Hillsboro New Mexico. Destination, Las Cruces, still 75 miles away. It was basically a slight downhill all day, but the brisk 15 mph headwind robbed us of much advantage. Nonetheless we were able to maintain a 16.6 mph pace for the day. Much improved over the 6-7 mph average on the mountain climbs.
The ride was interesting. After a solid week of desert and mountains, we found ourselves in a fertile agricultural region watered by irrigation channels from the Rio Grande. Crops were diverse; we saw alfalfa, pumpkins, cotton, cabbages, numerous pecan groves, and red chilies. Indeed Hatch, where we lunched, proclaims itself the red chili capital of the world. This would be hard to dispute, as there were several places where the bright red chili fields stretched out in a colorful landscape reminiscent of the poppy fields in the Wizard of Oz.
In summary, when we finish our week in El Paso tomorrow, we will have cycled about 500 of the 600 scheduled miles. For those of you supporting us by the mile, don’t worry. We will charge you for all 600. We actually RODE every mile, as promised. If you check the fine print you will note that it does not say that we will cycle every mile, just ride it. Vanna provides a nice ride. If you are angry about this, join us in blaming Emerson and Fishwick. We’re not saying it’s their fault, just that we are blaming them.
So, after shuttling 55 miles this morning to get us over Emory Pass (8228) and Star Peak (6818), we started our day’s ride on top of a hill near Hillsboro New Mexico. Destination, Las Cruces, still 75 miles away. It was basically a slight downhill all day, but the brisk 15 mph headwind robbed us of much advantage. Nonetheless we were able to maintain a 16.6 mph pace for the day. Much improved over the 6-7 mph average on the mountain climbs.
The ride was interesting. After a solid week of desert and mountains, we found ourselves in a fertile agricultural region watered by irrigation channels from the Rio Grande. Crops were diverse; we saw alfalfa, pumpkins, cotton, cabbages, numerous pecan groves, and red chilies. Indeed Hatch, where we lunched, proclaims itself the red chili capital of the world. This would be hard to dispute, as there were several places where the bright red chili fields stretched out in a colorful landscape reminiscent of the poppy fields in the Wizard of Oz.
In summary, when we finish our week in El Paso tomorrow, we will have cycled about 500 of the 600 scheduled miles. For those of you supporting us by the mile, don’t worry. We will charge you for all 600. We actually RODE every mile, as promised. If you check the fine print you will note that it does not say that we will cycle every mile, just ride it. Vanna provides a nice ride. If you are angry about this, join us in blaming Emerson and Fishwick. We’re not saying it’s their fault, just that we are blaming them.
Gila Monsters?
For all you TransAm 2010 Blog readers, thank you for following us. The last couple days we were out of “transmit” range so no internet or cell – very peaceful. Also, we will get the pictures updated when we get to a No-tel that has a strong Internet connection to upload new pics.
Today, Thursday Oct 14 was a substitute day. We woke up to mid 30’s at the Conway Cabin 30 miles north of Silver City, NM. Our original route would have been Silver City to Hillsboro – about 47 miles with lots of climbs. Instead we chose a similar distance but started at the Gila (pronounced Heela) Cliff Dwellers in Gila National Forest another 18 miles north of the cabin. A very hilly ride with some long downhills to San Lorenzo. The Gila Cliff Dwellers is a fascinating area of cliffs that the Mogollon Indians inhabited for about 30-40 years some 700 years ago. At 7000 ft, there had to be a good reason to move up this far from the valley – it was due to a very long drought and they were able to find water in the streams in the higher mountains. The caves were quite high on these cliffs requiring some athletic climbing. We saw a lot in the hour we spent before our ride down from this high peak. By the time we started our ride the temp was up to 65 and ended around 78 – perfect. Our 11th straight day of sun and minimal headwinds. The scenery continues to be spectacular and the ride continues to exceed our expectations.
Our map through Day 11 is shown on the following link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/961128719591892026
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Needle Eye Pass to New Mexico
To get a feel for today’s ride, let’s refer to the map: Starting in Arizona at Thumb Butte (3200 feet) we started up Black Jack Canyon, climbing steadily. As we gained altitude we could see both Buzzard Roost Canyon and Rattlesnake Canyon to the north, while Lop Ear Creek was to our south. Looming ahead was the Needle Eye Pass over Big Lue Mountain. On the other side was our rest stop, Mule Creek. At 6,295 feet the pass represented a climb of about 3000 feet in 5 miles. We crawled up the mountain, enduring switchback after switchback at grades of 6-10%. I have climbed numerous times before, but Needle Eye Pass holds the prize.
About halfway up the mountain we were astonished to reach a wayside church called the “WWJD Chapel” (What Would Jesus Do). Well, in my opinion, Jesus would stop and ask for water, just like he did in Samaria with the woman at the well. On cue, the property owner, Karen, appeared, turned on the water, and opened the chapel for us to view. Karen is married to a miner. They bought the property a year ago when he found work at the local copper mine. The home came with attached chapel. They have reopened it and are seeking to attract a flock. As they appear to be the only habited dwelling for miles, it will take a miracle, but she is full of faith.
Five miles from the pass was the New Mexico border. What an immediate contrast to Arizona! The backside of the mountain contained pine trees while the cacti and tumbleweed were replaced by prairie grasses and low trees. We are done with the desert at last. Some of the stream beds even had a trickle of water running through them.
Frankly, Carl and I were bushed form the long climb following hard on the heels of yesterday’s century ride, so we struggled over the rolling terrain of New Mexico. The headwind we encountered made it all the more difficult. Like faithful sheep dogs, Holly and Bill were everywhere, waiting at the top of each big climb with water and snacks. But we finally ran out of gas in Buckhorn, at its only establishment, the “Last Chance Liquor Store”. Quite a contrast to the chapel, but maintained by an equally gracious proprietor named Dee, who refreshed us with an alternative type of spirit. I bought the makings for margaritas, which is what we celebrate with whenever we cross a state line.
It was disappointing to not make it to our destination, Silver City; we ended up 30 miles short. The climbs and the headwinds did us in. After Buckhorn, there was another climb over another pass, and we just didn’t have enough left in the tank. Also, it was getting to be late afternoon, and our lodging for the next two nights is the Heart Bar Cabin, which is accessed by a one lane road that should not be negotiated in the dark.
Stopping in Silver City for some grub, we drove to the cabin, arriving just as the sun set. A tough day, but a memorable one.
About halfway up the mountain we were astonished to reach a wayside church called the “WWJD Chapel” (What Would Jesus Do). Well, in my opinion, Jesus would stop and ask for water, just like he did in Samaria with the woman at the well. On cue, the property owner, Karen, appeared, turned on the water, and opened the chapel for us to view. Karen is married to a miner. They bought the property a year ago when he found work at the local copper mine. The home came with attached chapel. They have reopened it and are seeking to attract a flock. As they appear to be the only habited dwelling for miles, it will take a miracle, but she is full of faith.
Five miles from the pass was the New Mexico border. What an immediate contrast to Arizona! The backside of the mountain contained pine trees while the cacti and tumbleweed were replaced by prairie grasses and low trees. We are done with the desert at last. Some of the stream beds even had a trickle of water running through them.
Frankly, Carl and I were bushed form the long climb following hard on the heels of yesterday’s century ride, so we struggled over the rolling terrain of New Mexico. The headwind we encountered made it all the more difficult. Like faithful sheep dogs, Holly and Bill were everywhere, waiting at the top of each big climb with water and snacks. But we finally ran out of gas in Buckhorn, at its only establishment, the “Last Chance Liquor Store”. Quite a contrast to the chapel, but maintained by an equally gracious proprietor named Dee, who refreshed us with an alternative type of spirit. I bought the makings for margaritas, which is what we celebrate with whenever we cross a state line.
It was disappointing to not make it to our destination, Silver City; we ended up 30 miles short. The climbs and the headwinds did us in. After Buckhorn, there was another climb over another pass, and we just didn’t have enough left in the tank. Also, it was getting to be late afternoon, and our lodging for the next two nights is the Heart Bar Cabin, which is accessed by a one lane road that should not be negotiated in the dark.
Stopping in Silver City for some grub, we drove to the cabin, arriving just as the sun set. A tough day, but a memorable one.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
100 beats 89
Today was an ideal day for riding in Arizona. We began early to beat the heat on our way east: 77 miles to Safford AZ. 6 miles in I got the first flat of the trip for either rider (Peter had one on a fun ride around San Diego before we started). A quick fix and we continued on with downhill or flat riding all day. The breaks were valuable today as the heat took its toll. Our last stop was at the Taylor Freeze – a well-known Ice Cream shop in Pima AZ.The root beer floats there came with extra root beer! Perfect timing - 9 miles short of the finish line.
The real thrill of the day was the ride itself. We went through the Apache Reservation, which is huge and took 30+ miles to cross. They have their own schools and facilities and the obligatory Casino, but the real beauty was the landscape. The tall mountains overlooked the prairies and mesas with abundant cacti everywhere. We even went through a small town called Geronimo named after the famous Indian that the US Calvary couldn’t catch –they even paid Mexicans to catch him. Every mile gave us new valleys and rock formations different from the last. There really are some amazing places in the US.
Our trip almost ended on schedule in Safford. However, the conditions were so perfect that Peter and I decided to keep moving on. The route was flat or slightly uphill for another 25 miles and there was a good tailwind so we continued on, pushing the day's ride to over 100 miles. Bill and Holly once again rescued us from a long day and brought us back to Safford. Even though the temperature got up to 89, we got a 100 in just as the sun was setting.
The route today ends at Day 9 just past Safford AZ. Click the box marked show elevation to see the profile of the ride so far:
http://www.mapmyride.com/view_route?r=941128693975988277
Mountain Climbing
Today’s ride took us into Apache country, which will be continued tomorrow as we head across the San Carlos Apache Reservation. Many of the folks we are seeing on the streets or in the stores of the mining towns we pass through have the strong cheekbones and jet black hair that indicates a Native American heritage. The first historical marker I pass today is in front of Picket Post Mountain, a collection of rock pillars which looks remarkably like a section of fence. It was used as an outpost by the US Cavalry during the Indian wars.
At this moment however, it is not Apaches we fear, but Kings Crown Mountain, a peak of 5,500 feet which looms above the mining town of Superior. We know we have to go over, and also through, that mountain to get to our destination, Globe.
When you think of Arizona, do you think mountains? Hitherto I thought of Arizona as desert. Rocks and cacti, hills and plains, but mountains? Well after today, I’m adding Arizona to my list of mountain states. Carl and I spend the morning laboring up a steady 5 and 6 per cent grade under the relentlessly rising sun, hoping that each turn will bring us over a pass and down the other side. Indeed, we cross several passes, only to find that a brief flat stretch is followed by more climbing. Then, about mid morning, as we are climbing Kings Crown, we get to the Queen Creek Tunnel. Bill and Holly are waiting for us at the entrance.
Tunnels and bikes don’t mix well. Especially this one, a quarter mile long with minimal lighting, and a 7% uphill grade. Add mining trucks going through in both directions at 55 miles per hour and you have something to get your attention. With Bill and Holly behind us using their flashers and preventing trucks from inadvertently flattening us, we get through unscathed and resume climbing. By the end of the day we had a total ascent of over 3500 feet. We did have some downhill, 1800 feet or so. Thank goodness the hotel has a hot tub where we can soak our weary legs.
This will be a week of Indians, rocks, mountains and mines. While the cycling is strenuous, the stark beauty of the countryside is a great diversion. To mix metaphors, this wild country is a sight for sore legs.
Here is the link to see the route thus far, all 511 miles of it.
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/-san-diego/767128683952951553
At this moment however, it is not Apaches we fear, but Kings Crown Mountain, a peak of 5,500 feet which looms above the mining town of Superior. We know we have to go over, and also through, that mountain to get to our destination, Globe.
When you think of Arizona, do you think mountains? Hitherto I thought of Arizona as desert. Rocks and cacti, hills and plains, but mountains? Well after today, I’m adding Arizona to my list of mountain states. Carl and I spend the morning laboring up a steady 5 and 6 per cent grade under the relentlessly rising sun, hoping that each turn will bring us over a pass and down the other side. Indeed, we cross several passes, only to find that a brief flat stretch is followed by more climbing. Then, about mid morning, as we are climbing Kings Crown, we get to the Queen Creek Tunnel. Bill and Holly are waiting for us at the entrance.
Tunnels and bikes don’t mix well. Especially this one, a quarter mile long with minimal lighting, and a 7% uphill grade. Add mining trucks going through in both directions at 55 miles per hour and you have something to get your attention. With Bill and Holly behind us using their flashers and preventing trucks from inadvertently flattening us, we get through unscathed and resume climbing. By the end of the day we had a total ascent of over 3500 feet. We did have some downhill, 1800 feet or so. Thank goodness the hotel has a hot tub where we can soak our weary legs.
This will be a week of Indians, rocks, mountains and mines. While the cycling is strenuous, the stark beauty of the countryside is a great diversion. To mix metaphors, this wild country is a sight for sore legs.
Here is the link to see the route thus far, all 511 miles of it.
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/-san-diego/767128683952951553
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Holly's Guest Blog For Saturday Oct 9
The "boys"--as Bill and I lovingly refer to Peter and Carl--have asked me to write today in honor of Bill's 69th birthday! We celebrated in great style! Despite the rigor of the biking day, it was an easy day for us Vanna drivers. Ah, the glory of air-conditioning and paved highways! We arrived at our elegant Quality Inn suite, a real two-room suite for the weekend! While we awaited their arrival, Bill got to see some college football--sadly not Ohio State--while I sorted laundry trying to rid us all of bike grease and road dirt.
We reconvened for cocktail hour in the 262 T A lounge (make what you will of its name. . . .) The "boys" had gone to a bike store in the afternoon and, I surmised, to get a card for Bill. I knew Carl had planned a nap so I was getting concerned at how long they had been gone. During "cocktail hour" Bill was presented with the worst of three truly ugly ties!* The Pinnacle, an authentic cowboy--why is it never "cowman?--restaurant cuts off the ties of any who enter since cowboys never wear ties that can so easily be turned into nooses! The present-giving continued with the perfect new shirt. Salvation Army shopping has its rewards! I won't spoil the surprise here. Best y'all see it in soon-to-follow photos.
Peter then chauffeured us to the local dining wonder, The Pinnacle, where we could see the lights of Phoenix, reportedly the 5th largest US city. Dinner was grand with steaks and ribs aplenty and a wonderful country singing duo to keep us toe-tapping on the patio all evening. Of course the lovely, blonde, shapely, pole-vaulting server (currently clearing 13'1") added to male enjoyment! We topped the evening off with practically homemade pie ala mode, the perfect end to a perfect day.
*seems there was a number pattern in the ugliest tie that corresponded to the number of birthday years being celebrated!
We reconvened for cocktail hour in the 262 T A lounge (make what you will of its name. . . .) The "boys" had gone to a bike store in the afternoon and, I surmised, to get a card for Bill. I knew Carl had planned a nap so I was getting concerned at how long they had been gone. During "cocktail hour" Bill was presented with the worst of three truly ugly ties!* The Pinnacle, an authentic cowboy--why is it never "cowman?--restaurant cuts off the ties of any who enter since cowboys never wear ties that can so easily be turned into nooses! The present-giving continued with the perfect new shirt. Salvation Army shopping has its rewards! I won't spoil the surprise here. Best y'all see it in soon-to-follow photos.
Peter then chauffeured us to the local dining wonder, The Pinnacle, where we could see the lights of Phoenix, reportedly the 5th largest US city. Dinner was grand with steaks and ribs aplenty and a wonderful country singing duo to keep us toe-tapping on the patio all evening. Of course the lovely, blonde, shapely, pole-vaulting server (currently clearing 13'1") added to male enjoyment! We topped the evening off with practically homemade pie ala mode, the perfect end to a perfect day.
*seems there was a number pattern in the ugliest tie that corresponded to the number of birthday years being celebrated!
Wild Bill Breaks Out
Departing the self proclaimed Cowboy Capital of the West, Wickenburg AZ, was beautiful. With the sun shining and 58 degrees, Peter and I got an early start heading east out of this small town loaded with saloons. We aimed to beat the expected heat. The first half of the ride was on smooth pavement with a slight downhill grade. You couldn’t see it but you could feel it. With a gentle tailwind, we ripped through the remaining desert to Sun City at our fastest pace yet.
Too early for lunch, we decided to go the full distance (72 miles) and eat later. What we didn’t know was that the lights in Phoenix are not set for bikes. The last 30 miles took 3 hours, but we did traverse some nice suburbs of Phoenix and 100’s of Malls/Strip Centers. We also rode on a 13 mile bike path along the canal and some parks. Reaching the hotel and realizing we had a rest day after 6 days of riding was a relief. It finally reached 90 degrees but we were done.
We finished the first week safely. Here are some of the stats :
Miles: 423
Ascent: 12,023
Descent: 10,982
Blowouts: 1
Wrong turns: 2
Days of Sun: 5
Bad Jokes: 15 – all guilty.
Today was Bill’s Birthday and we celebrated by taking him to the world famous Pinnacle Peak Patio on the side of Camelback Mountain. We gave him an expensive birthday tie to wear – but this thrift store beauty was promptly snipped at the dinner table by the manager, who told Bill, “Cowboys don’t wear ties”. It was a soft blow to Bill’s ego, particularly as he was sporting his new cowboy boots. Great dinner outdoors with a live band playing everything from Roger Miller to Elvis Presley.
Here is the link to our map to date. Some have tried the “Watch course by video” which gives you a flavor for the terrain we are covering.
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/-san-diego/708128663378393730
Friday, October 8, 2010
Take it Easy
The song by Jackson Browne has been running through my head as we log the miles in Arizona…
“I was standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona, such a fine sight to see….”
Well, no girls in flat bed Fords have paused to look at either Carl or me, but plenty of Fords have passed us by. Today was pretty boring. Just desert and only one town to distract us between Salome and Wickenburg. Holly saw a roadrunner, yesterday, but today’s critters were just ants and flies. Boring.
I have determined that I will stop at every historical marker we pass. Today had two of some interest, both as we approached Wickenburg, the self proclaimed Cowboy Capital of the West. The Wickenburg Massacre of November 5, 1871 is noted on a stone which says that the Stagecoach to Ehrenburg was ambushed by Apaches and seven people were murdered. No follow up is described the plaque, but I suspect there were reprisals.
About a mile from the massacre site another plaque commemorates Henry Wickenburg and his burro, who discovered gold in these thar hills in 1863.They are the reason for the town’s existence. Nice that the burro gets a mention. Maybe it stumbled over a nugget.
Wickenburg soon realized that supplying miners was better than digging for gold, so he sold out his interest in the Vulture mine four years later and spent the rest of his days farming and ranching, providing the grub that miners needed. Mysteriously, he committed suicide in 1905.
Tomorrow we head for Tempe, our destination for the weekend and the official end of stage one. It will be nice to log the 70 miles and have the first week under our belts.
The link for the ride to date is:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego/887128657640729050
“I was standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona, such a fine sight to see….”
Well, no girls in flat bed Fords have paused to look at either Carl or me, but plenty of Fords have passed us by. Today was pretty boring. Just desert and only one town to distract us between Salome and Wickenburg. Holly saw a roadrunner, yesterday, but today’s critters were just ants and flies. Boring.
I have determined that I will stop at every historical marker we pass. Today had two of some interest, both as we approached Wickenburg, the self proclaimed Cowboy Capital of the West. The Wickenburg Massacre of November 5, 1871 is noted on a stone which says that the Stagecoach to Ehrenburg was ambushed by Apaches and seven people were murdered. No follow up is described the plaque, but I suspect there were reprisals.
About a mile from the massacre site another plaque commemorates Henry Wickenburg and his burro, who discovered gold in these thar hills in 1863.They are the reason for the town’s existence. Nice that the burro gets a mention. Maybe it stumbled over a nugget.
Wickenburg soon realized that supplying miners was better than digging for gold, so he sold out his interest in the Vulture mine four years later and spent the rest of his days farming and ranching, providing the grub that miners needed. Mysteriously, he committed suicide in 1905.
Tomorrow we head for Tempe, our destination for the weekend and the official end of stage one. It will be nice to log the 70 miles and have the first week under our belts.
The link for the ride to date is:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego/887128657640729050
Thursday, October 7, 2010
HEATING UP
We began the day in Blythe, California at a diner worthy of Happy Days. Some French Toast with real Maple Syrup (which you can’t get at IHOP) got the carbs rolling for our 63 mile trek east to Salome AZ.
It took only 5 miles to reach the Colorado River, where we had to cross on the pedestrian bridge along I-10 connecting LA to Phoenix. In a few miles, we actually joined I-10 for 1 of 2 segments of our ride on the interstate. We figured out a couple of days ago that when the ride directions take you onto an Interstate, it is because you are going over a range. We went over 3 today – each with a long steady uphill ride between 6 and 10 miles.
On our first segment up the interstate, we passed Marv, the Wyoming wanderer who continues to cross our path. After giving us some of the food that was weighing him down, he told us he was just going to stay on I-10 all the way to Phoenix cause he is tired of the ride and looking for a shorter route . AZ allows cyclists on the interstates. Marv kept up with us to SAG stop 1 then faded under his 300 pound bike. We continued east to Salome via some long straight flats and more slow climbs – now calling it uphell instead of uphill.
Salome is out of an old western. Population about 1600 but it seemed like 50. The owner of our hotel, the Sheffler, is also the Sherriff but he was on vacation. We celebrated crossing the AZ line with margaritas at the Cactus Bar across the street. The site of us was enough to scare most locals away but bartender Stacey warmed up to us while Gus and the boys played pool in the back.
At the hotel we met a young cyclist from Vancouver staying at the world famous Sheffler. Evan blew us away. He is finishing a continental lap; he started in Vancouver June 15, went east to Newfoundland, south to Miami, then west to Salome on his way to LA. All in about 9000 miles, by himself, on a bike. He rides about two times our daily total and is 4½ months ahead of schedule. Evan had some great stories and we gave him some supplies. He is 18 and living on a shoe string but was a real pleasure.
We lucked out on weather – again. High 70s through the desert. Tomorrow, a bit warmer and sunny.
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/966128650992435738
We began the day in Blythe, California at a diner worthy of Happy Days. Some French Toast with real Maple Syrup (which you can’t get at IHOP) got the carbs rolling for our 63 mile trek east to Salome AZ.
It took only 5 miles to reach the Colorado River, where we had to cross on the pedestrian bridge along I-10 connecting LA to Phoenix. In a few miles, we actually joined I-10 for 1 of 2 segments of our ride on the interstate. We figured out a couple of days ago that when the ride directions take you onto an Interstate, it is because you are going over a range. We went over 3 today – each with a long steady uphill ride between 6 and 10 miles.
On our first segment up the interstate, we passed Marv, the Wyoming wanderer who continues to cross our path. After giving us some of the food that was weighing him down, he told us he was just going to stay on I-10 all the way to Phoenix cause he is tired of the ride and looking for a shorter route . AZ allows cyclists on the interstates. Marv kept up with us to SAG stop 1 then faded under his 300 pound bike. We continued east to Salome via some long straight flats and more slow climbs – now calling it uphell instead of uphill.
Salome is out of an old western. Population about 1600 but it seemed like 50. The owner of our hotel, the Sheffler, is also the Sherriff but he was on vacation. We celebrated crossing the AZ line with margaritas at the Cactus Bar across the street. The site of us was enough to scare most locals away but bartender Stacey warmed up to us while Gus and the boys played pool in the back.
At the hotel we met a young cyclist from Vancouver staying at the world famous Sheffler. Evan blew us away. He is finishing a continental lap; he started in Vancouver June 15, went east to Newfoundland, south to Miami, then west to Salome on his way to LA. All in about 9000 miles, by himself, on a bike. He rides about two times our daily total and is 4½ months ahead of schedule. Evan had some great stories and we gave him some supplies. He is 18 and living on a shoe string but was a real pleasure.
We lucked out on weather – again. High 70s through the desert. Tomorrow, a bit warmer and sunny.
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/966128650992435738
Big Rigs and Sand Dunes
Two years ago, a lady following the same Adventure Cycling Route we are using was killed on this leg. Having lived through it, I appreciate the danger. There is only one road across the desert in the San Diego area. It was built in 1964 when the Imperial Valley was transformed from desert to productive farmland using water channeled from the Colorado Rover. Needing to get produce to the east as well as the west, they built a two lane road along an old Indian trail that crossed the desert. It is still a 1960’s road: two lanes, narrow, and with no shoulder. It was not built for trucks the size of today’s 18 wheelers, especially as many pull double trailers. And it was certainly not designed with shoulders for cyclists to ride on. I am sure they were confident that no cyclist would be mad enough to attempt to cross this 90 mile stretch of desert and share the road with the big rigs. In fact, as we passed through one of the border patrol checkpoints they laughed at us, they said we were loco. I tend to agree.
Well, we managed to hold on for dear life as rigs from both directions buffeted us with blasts of air as they went by. It was nerve wracking to se them coming like banshees from a distance and await their arrival. In that situation, a cyclist is totally at the mercy of the driver. You pray that they have no particular grudge against cyclists. Some did, not moving an inch as they blew by.
Fortunately, there were times the scenery took our mind off the trucks. Desert is a generic term. This desert was mostly rocks and sand with low green bushes that I suspect turn into tumble weeds. No cacti out here. It was pretty boring to ride thru. The first feature of interest, appearing about 15 miles in, is the Chocolate Mountains to the north. Who says pioneers have no imagination. They are indeed chocolate colored; furthermore as you get closer they look like a series of Hershey’s kisses which have, understandably in this heat, sagged and melted into gooey lumps. The contrast with the sandy desert is striking. A few miles further, the Imperial Dunes came into view. Pure sand, no rocks and no shrubbery. It is worthy of Stars Wars and Lawrence of Arabia. The constant winds, which fortunately are at our back once again, have shaped these dunes into a variegated series of curves. Cornices, bowls, mounds and ridges, all soft and round. An eye pleasing contrast to the sharper rocky features of the desert around.
Holly and Bill did a marvelous job of shepherding us through the desert. They stopped about every twelve miles and met us with fruit, snacks and fresh water. We needed those breaks. We also met our first fellow cyclist in the desert, Marv from Wyoming. Marv, a sixty-three year old retired teacher, is doing the cross country route self contained. This means he carries everything he need on his bikes. It weighs over 300 pounds when he is on it. Marv was struggling through the desert. He was out of water, and going at a snail’s pace. We kept tabs on him all the way across, giving him water and inviting him to join us for lunch. He is already scaling back his plans to go to Florida. Austin Texas is his current destination. Then he’ll complete the trek next year using the SAG wagon approach.
We reached Blythe, our destination, about 3 PM. A hot tub, a pool and shady palm trees awaited us. The desert was behind us, and grilled pork rib a la Bill and Holly awaited us. Life is good.
To see the map of our ride to date, open this link. Try choosing the satellite view to see the sand dunes.
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/-san-diego/475128641411270571
Well, we managed to hold on for dear life as rigs from both directions buffeted us with blasts of air as they went by. It was nerve wracking to se them coming like banshees from a distance and await their arrival. In that situation, a cyclist is totally at the mercy of the driver. You pray that they have no particular grudge against cyclists. Some did, not moving an inch as they blew by.
Fortunately, there were times the scenery took our mind off the trucks. Desert is a generic term. This desert was mostly rocks and sand with low green bushes that I suspect turn into tumble weeds. No cacti out here. It was pretty boring to ride thru. The first feature of interest, appearing about 15 miles in, is the Chocolate Mountains to the north. Who says pioneers have no imagination. They are indeed chocolate colored; furthermore as you get closer they look like a series of Hershey’s kisses which have, understandably in this heat, sagged and melted into gooey lumps. The contrast with the sandy desert is striking. A few miles further, the Imperial Dunes came into view. Pure sand, no rocks and no shrubbery. It is worthy of Stars Wars and Lawrence of Arabia. The constant winds, which fortunately are at our back once again, have shaped these dunes into a variegated series of curves. Cornices, bowls, mounds and ridges, all soft and round. An eye pleasing contrast to the sharper rocky features of the desert around.
Holly and Bill did a marvelous job of shepherding us through the desert. They stopped about every twelve miles and met us with fruit, snacks and fresh water. We needed those breaks. We also met our first fellow cyclist in the desert, Marv from Wyoming. Marv, a sixty-three year old retired teacher, is doing the cross country route self contained. This means he carries everything he need on his bikes. It weighs over 300 pounds when he is on it. Marv was struggling through the desert. He was out of water, and going at a snail’s pace. We kept tabs on him all the way across, giving him water and inviting him to join us for lunch. He is already scaling back his plans to go to Florida. Austin Texas is his current destination. Then he’ll complete the trek next year using the SAG wagon approach.
We reached Blythe, our destination, about 3 PM. A hot tub, a pool and shady palm trees awaited us. The desert was behind us, and grilled pork rib a la Bill and Holly awaited us. Life is good.
To see the map of our ride to date, open this link. Try choosing the satellite view to see the sand dunes.
http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/-san-diego/475128641411270571
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
3000 foot Bailout
Well yesterday was supposed to be one of our toughest days with a long climb and today was the reward, a long descent. The ride opened in Jacumba 5 miles west of the entrance to I-8 eastbound where they allow bicycles for the 12 mile descent. We get to drop from 3000 foot elevation to below sea level. We should have known by the Huge WARNING signs at the freeway entrance about the high winds. This was not the carefree ride that we had hoped for. Today there were supposed to be severe high winds. We entered I-8 at the top of Devil’s Canyon in the area known as the In-Ko-Pa Gorge. A few miles into the ride, however, the wind cranked up with a valley opening down to our right. You could see the dessert in the distance but it was the shoulderless roads and wind that had our attention. It was difficult to stay in the 5 foot bike lane between the rumble strips and curb. At one point Peter was hit by a burst that pushed him onto the curb. We stopped, looked at the 1000 foot drop into rocks and decided it wasn’t worth the free pedaling. So we hopped into Vanna with Bill and Holly for the 7 miles out of thecanyon to the start of the desert. From there we were aided by a still strong wind of 20+ to Seeley for a great lunch prepared by Holly. Then another 25 miles up to Brawley through the desert and Imperial Valley. Lots of agriculture here surprisingly. Started the day in 2 coats and gloves, ended in sunshine and 77. Tomorrow 90's.
To see our route so far click on the link below:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego, ca/939128595994556446
For fun, in the upper right corner of the Map-My-Ride, click the show elevation box.
Jacumba Hot Springs and the Border Patrol
We feel great! Today’s ride was the one we have feared ever since the trip was conceived: climbing the mountains between San Diego and Imperial Valley. It is a beast of a ride, not the length, which is a metric century (60 miles), but in the steady, winding 6-7% grade which goes on for…… about 45 of the 60 miles. At least the anticipated winds from the west were at our backs, and they grew in strength as the day wore on, actually becoming a storm by the end of the day, which caused problems of its own. Brian, our innkeeper in Jacumba, had warned us to expect 100 degree heat and blistering sun as we made the ascent. He could not have been more wrong. We started out with light rain and about 70 degrees, had about 2 hours of sun and cloud in the middle of the day, and finished the last 15 miles in a cloud bank with howling winds and temperatures in the fifties. I felt like I was biking Mount Washington. But the main thing is we made it, and may have put behind us the toughest day of the trip. Time will tell. To view the map of today's ride, go to this link:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego%2c ca/939128595994556446
While climbing at an average speed of 6 miles per hour one has ample time to take in the sights. Today’s sights were dominated by the US Border Patrol. Jacumba is on the border, although there is no crossing. Just miles of fence, stretching to the horizon. White border patrol cards with spotting devices sit on the high ground keeping watch, while an endless stream of border patrol vehicles careen by in both directions. They appear to be scheduled; about every three minutes one would pass us. All white, all with one driver, all going about 70 miles an hour. About every 15 minutes a helicopter would go by, flying the fence line. At one point, I passed Border Patrol local headquarters. There were at least 100 border patrol cars parked in the lot. We also passed by a Border Patrol road block, where armed agents were inspecting cars. They waved us through.
What struck me about this was the amount of men, machinery and time going into the effort to keep folks and drugs out. How, I mused, can our border be like a sieve when there are hundreds of agents combing the hills? Is this effort nationwide? If so, is it sustainable? We will travel close to the Mexican border again in Arizona and our first week in Texas. I cannot imagine that every stretch of fence is as vigorously patrolled as what we saw today. If it is, we are really incompetent.
Now we have just finished soaking in the 100 degree waters of the sulphur spring around which our hotel is built. Jacumba today is a semi ghost town, with over half of the houses in the village abandoned and in decay. As a town, it boomed during Prohibition, when wealthy folks would flock from San Diego to take in the healing waters of the hot sulphur springs. In fact, it was other waters which were brought across the border which they used to cure what ailed them.
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san diego%2c ca/939128595994556446
While climbing at an average speed of 6 miles per hour one has ample time to take in the sights. Today’s sights were dominated by the US Border Patrol. Jacumba is on the border, although there is no crossing. Just miles of fence, stretching to the horizon. White border patrol cards with spotting devices sit on the high ground keeping watch, while an endless stream of border patrol vehicles careen by in both directions. They appear to be scheduled; about every three minutes one would pass us. All white, all with one driver, all going about 70 miles an hour. About every 15 minutes a helicopter would go by, flying the fence line. At one point, I passed Border Patrol local headquarters. There were at least 100 border patrol cars parked in the lot. We also passed by a Border Patrol road block, where armed agents were inspecting cars. They waved us through.
What struck me about this was the amount of men, machinery and time going into the effort to keep folks and drugs out. How, I mused, can our border be like a sieve when there are hundreds of agents combing the hills? Is this effort nationwide? If so, is it sustainable? We will travel close to the Mexican border again in Arizona and our first week in Texas. I cannot imagine that every stretch of fence is as vigorously patrolled as what we saw today. If it is, we are really incompetent.
Now we have just finished soaking in the 100 degree waters of the sulphur spring around which our hotel is built. Jacumba today is a semi ghost town, with over half of the houses in the village abandoned and in decay. As a town, it boomed during Prohibition, when wealthy folks would flock from San Diego to take in the healing waters of the hot sulphur springs. In fact, it was other waters which were brought across the border which they used to cure what ailed them.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Dog Beach - The Beginning
The trek begins! Because our guest riders were unable to make it, Peter and I (Carl) started a day early with a short ride. We began at Ocean Beach with the traditional wheel dipping in the Pacific to commemorate the start to our ride across the US. We then took a great bike path about 6 miles east where we finally joined real traffic. CALIFORNIA – what can we say. Weather was perfect and we rode mostly great roads which all had bike lanes. This is looking good…. We thought getting a head start would allow us to skip the Monday morning rush hour traffic, however, several things gave us a late start this Sunday morning and unfortunately our route lead us by the San Diego Chargers Football Stadium right at game time where they were playing the Cardinals. Beautiful facility with intense tailgating. Peter of course wanted to stop and hang with the Charger fans. With the flat ride to the foothills over pretty quickly, we next took on some of the first ascent which were long but gradual – No Music Street yet. Tomorrow the real climb begins.
Here is the route so far. Simply click the link to see our progress (about 1/100th of our goal)
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego%2c%20ca/939128595994556446
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Homelessness and the Big Bang
San Diego has more homeless than any other US city, according to my new friend, John the Marine Biologist. I met John while checking out the first few miles of our route on a training ride today. John was riding a recumbent, and this select group of cyclists usually pedal together for a time when we meet, comparing notes and being bemused at all of the prejudices against recumbents held by traditional cyclists. As we pedaled the stunningly beautiful path along a canal which ended at Dog Beach, the route ducked under the many bridges across the canal. Each underpass was inhabited by a number of homeless. Probably 50 or so in the less than three mile ride to the beach. John commented that if he were ever unfortunate enough to be homeless, he would want to be in San Diego. The citizens are tolerant, the climate is awesome, the scenery beautiful. I wasn’t so sure I agreed, but I will say that compared to the homeless I have encountered in other metro areas, these folks seem more permanent. Each has a large shopping cart, or a wheelchair stuffed with possessions; several I noted have bikes similarly laden. I wondered how many are homeless by choice, rather than circumstance. I wondered what kind of public assistance they desire, and whether they are getting it. I love having homes to live in. I can’t imagine being happy under a bridge with my shopping cart. Are any of them happy?
John the marine biologist is a classic laid back California dude, with pony tail, beard and tevas for bike shoes. He was just cruising the bike lanes, so he showed me how to access the path and how to get out of town. On the way back we spoke of his dream to ride transam. For him, it would be starting from his own back yard.
In the afternoon Carl arrived and we decided to go back to dog beach to check out the route and water temperature. I wanted to swim in the Pacific. It was not to be. ½ mile down the road there was a sound like a gunshot. My rear tire had exploded. Again. Third time this summer. And when it explodes, both tube and outer tire are ruined. I was done for the day. I am pondering what is systemically wrong with my rear wheel that is causing this recurring problem. My latest theory is that when I put in 100 psi it seems to explode when it heats up. I will try running it at 90 psi for a while. When we get to Arizona on Tuesday, the air temperature will probably be over 100 degrees.
John the marine biologist is a classic laid back California dude, with pony tail, beard and tevas for bike shoes. He was just cruising the bike lanes, so he showed me how to access the path and how to get out of town. On the way back we spoke of his dream to ride transam. For him, it would be starting from his own back yard.
In the afternoon Carl arrived and we decided to go back to dog beach to check out the route and water temperature. I wanted to swim in the Pacific. It was not to be. ½ mile down the road there was a sound like a gunshot. My rear tire had exploded. Again. Third time this summer. And when it explodes, both tube and outer tire are ruined. I was done for the day. I am pondering what is systemically wrong with my rear wheel that is causing this recurring problem. My latest theory is that when I put in 100 psi it seems to explode when it heats up. I will try running it at 90 psi for a while. When we get to Arizona on Tuesday, the air temperature will probably be over 100 degrees.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
First Impressions of San Diego – Hustlers & No-Tell Motel ?
We are here in San Diego! I flew the friendly skies of United/Continental, -on the official day of their merger no less- and the new airline is off to a great start. Not only were both flights on time, but the Chicago-San Diego flight was half an hour early. I can’t remember the last time I escaped O’Hare on schedule. Keep it up Co-United!
Happily, Bill and Holly arrived with Vanna and Bendi about the same time and we all rendezvoused at the enticingly named “Bay Inn and Suites at Sea World”. As I de-planed, I picked up a voice message from Bill that the Inn has, in polite terms, seen better days. They were off in Vanna exploring better options. Plus the power was out in the immediate neighborhood. This turned out to be a good thing, as it slowed the stream of visitors to the bars, liquor stores and strip joints lining our street. Larry Flynts Hustler Club, with which we share a parking lot, was still garishly lit up. They must generate their own energy. Welcome to San Diego.
A word about the lodging for our trip. Adventure Cycling helpfully suggests lodging that is right on the bike route, so weary cyclists do not have to add miles to their day pedaling to motels. As I have spent the last month making reservations at their suggested sites, I have concluded two things. First, the folks at Adventure Cycling operate on a shoestring budget, and assume anyone going cross country is saving pennies too. Second, the ONLY criterion for recommending a motel is how close it is to the bike route. Well the Bays Inn and Suites gets huge thumbs up in both respects. We got a great rate. Most other guests rent the rooms by the hour, which is much more expensive.
Bill, Holly and I went out to dinner in Old Town. It was dark by then, therefore hard to get a good sense of the area, but it looks like a cross between Hale Farm and East 4th street for you Clevelanders. We ate in what will no doubt be the first of many Mexican restaurants. It was good. Never had tasted a lobster enchilada before, but it works. We had Margaritas and toasted the trip. We’re gonna be fine!
Happily, Bill and Holly arrived with Vanna and Bendi about the same time and we all rendezvoused at the enticingly named “Bay Inn and Suites at Sea World”. As I de-planed, I picked up a voice message from Bill that the Inn has, in polite terms, seen better days. They were off in Vanna exploring better options. Plus the power was out in the immediate neighborhood. This turned out to be a good thing, as it slowed the stream of visitors to the bars, liquor stores and strip joints lining our street. Larry Flynts Hustler Club, with which we share a parking lot, was still garishly lit up. They must generate their own energy. Welcome to San Diego.
A word about the lodging for our trip. Adventure Cycling helpfully suggests lodging that is right on the bike route, so weary cyclists do not have to add miles to their day pedaling to motels. As I have spent the last month making reservations at their suggested sites, I have concluded two things. First, the folks at Adventure Cycling operate on a shoestring budget, and assume anyone going cross country is saving pennies too. Second, the ONLY criterion for recommending a motel is how close it is to the bike route. Well the Bays Inn and Suites gets huge thumbs up in both respects. We got a great rate. Most other guests rent the rooms by the hour, which is much more expensive.
Bill, Holly and I went out to dinner in Old Town. It was dark by then, therefore hard to get a good sense of the area, but it looks like a cross between Hale Farm and East 4th street for you Clevelanders. We ate in what will no doubt be the first of many Mexican restaurants. It was good. Never had tasted a lobster enchilada before, but it works. We had Margaritas and toasted the trip. We’re gonna be fine!
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