tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27913343012692201062024-02-18T18:34:44.304-08:00Coast to Coast for a Cure 2014Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-67650565009567754412014-08-18T09:49:00.002-07:002014-08-18T09:50:15.673-07:00Annoucement: Final Ride to HammonassetThis Saturday, we will complete our coast to coast journey on a 40 mile ride down to Hammonasset Beach State Park in Madison, CT. We will leave the University of Connecticut Health Center at 8am (Academic Entrance) and make our way down to Madison. We hope to arrive around noon, dip our tires in Long Island Sound and then make our way over to Malone's Restaurant in Madison for a celebration of our trip and Lea's Foundation.<br />
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All are welcome to join in on the ride and celebrations at the beach and restaurant. We hope to see you there!<br />
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<br />Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-85148318058393394202014-08-11T09:33:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:14:54.800-07:00Day 54 - New Windsor, NY to Farmington, CT (91 miles)We woke with excitement, we knew that we had completed the last century-ride of our trip yesterday, and all that stood between us and our family and friends tonight was three mountain climbs along with more miles of rolling New England hills. After completing our morning rituals of peanut butter covered foods and other preparations, we rolled towards Newburgh, NY. We headed for the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge pedestrian path. One of the reasons we had come up to Newburgh was that this was the safest bridge for cyclists to cross the Hudson on, due to its dedicated bike path on the southernmost edge of the bridge. We descended down into the river valley and then climbed up onto the bridge path. Signs warned of bridge work, but we did not think much of them until 200 yards into our crossing we were obstructed by a construction fence. There was no way to push around it, and a local pedestrian told us that they have been occasionally closing the walkway throughout the summer as they conducted maintenance on I-84. She said the bridge work would not be done until August 31.<br />
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Jonathan and I fully intended to get to Farmington today, not in September, so the state of New York left us with no choice. We unpacked our bikes, and systematically (and if I do say so myself, rather smoothly) carried our stuff over the barricade into the construction lane, and reassembled our bikes on I-84. Right before our covert operation, a police officer had driven by, so we knew we had to be quick in getting across the bridge. When we could, we rode in the construction lane, and before long we had crossed the bridge, and climbed back onto the bike path on the eastern side of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge. Looks like we had to use I-84 more than I thought we would in yesterday's post...<br />
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With more than enough interstate riding for one day, we headed off in busy New York rush hour traffic on state and county routes towards Connecticut. One large obstacle stood in our way: Wingdale Mountain. After exhaustingly steep rolling hills that robbed us of our momentum at each climb, we entered a rotary that pointed us up 6+% grade hill that we trudged up. Around a few more corners, it became evident that this was the first of the three mountains that our elevation profile had warned us about on today's ride. Eventually we reached the summit as sweat poured from our bodies. We descended down to a marshy lake, and thought the descent had been a bit short considering our prolonged ascent. We were wrong and soon we were dropped down more steep hills and turns that netted us new top speeds greater than 43 mph each. Two days in a row we have set new top speeds.<br />
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A couple more rolling hills and we had passed into Kent, Connecticut. Our final state border crossing, and once again we were disappointed to not find a sign welcoming us home to Connecticut. We had not eaten breakfast yet, and with a deadline to get to UCHC by 4:30pm, we stuffed down some gas station food before heading off towards Cornwall. We cruised up Highway 7 and onto Route 4. Leaving Cornwall we knew the second climb of our day would be imminent as we neared Goshen. A tailwind was building behind us that keep us moving, but allowed the humidity to keep up with our pace and did nothing to slow our sweating. The pace we were keeping today was quite a bit faster than we have been doing for the past 53 days, and I do not think it would be sustainable if we knew we had to bike tomorrow. We stopped at a convenience store halfway up the mountain to refuel with electrolytes, protein and caffeine (what else do you really need on a cross country bike ride?). We rode quickly through Goshen and took in the gorgeous views of lakes, hills and agriculture that this portion of Connecticut offered to us. Approaching Torrington we lost the elevation we had fought so hard for.<br />
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We had one last stop at Burger King in Torrington. The workers there could not believe that we had come all the way from San Francisco and one of them even ran out to the parking lot telling us she would pray for us to finish the trip safely. Ride outside Burger King's driveway we started the third and final climb that was keeping us from Farmington. This climb was the shortest of today's three, but without a shoulder and in increasingly dense traffic, was still a bit exciting. Reaching the top, it was time to begin an overall descent down to the Health Center.<br />
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At this point our 4:30pm planned arrival was impossible, but we still did everything we could to make it to Farmington as fast as possible. We rolled up and down the hills averaging close to 18-20 mph, with the wind still pushing us from behind. Finally reaching Collinsville, it was time to use bike trails to travel along the Farmington River. We passed a number of other cyclists on the bike path, and despite biking as fast or faster than them, we unsurprisingly were carrying the most gear out of all of them. We passed Jonathan's street in Unionville and continued on to cruise past the Farmington Meadow Land.<br />
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We passed Miss Porter's School and landed out on Route 4 once again, this time heading towards the I-84/Route 4 intersection. Traveling through the jug-handle turn, we could finally see the Health Center. Never before have I been so excited to see that building. We rolled in the main entrance and through the new rotary that had appeared since we left. We crept up the speed bump covered hill and the Academic Entrance came into view. Our families, friends, deans and the media were ready for our arrival and cheered for us as we rolling up to them. Hugs, kisses, champagne showers, flowers, pictures and TV interviews welcomed us back to Farmington. It has been quite an adventure, but both Jonathan and myself are very glad to have been back. We are grateful for the support we received from Connecticut and from the memories and friends we made across America.<br />
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<i style="text-align: start;">Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i></div>
<br />Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-25134242713851222672014-08-10T09:26:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:14:38.836-07:00Day 53 - White Haven, PA to New Windsor, NY (113 miles)Today start with another cool morning that slowly warmed and became very humid as we continued to bike. We rolled up and down hills towards Pocono Pines, before we turned off onto even more remote back roads (to avoid the climb into Mount Pocono). This road was rather uneventful, but slow due to its windy, hilly nature. Unexpectedly we spotted a sign for a 13% grade descent that would last four miles.<br />
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This was the steepest marked grade we have encountered so far on the trip, and we could not believe that we were seeing this here in the Poconos instead of the Rockies. We bombed down the side of the mountain down to Tannersville, topping 42 mph, new highs for us on the trip. As we descended, the drivers became more aggressive as more New York and New Jersey license plates appeared on the road.<br />
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Reaching Tannersville, we were in a busy commercial area that was in great contrast to the small mountain towns we had been biking through. This whole area is catered to the needs of tourists, and appears to be quite popular. We stopped in at a local diner and are breakfast in our spandex, while many other customers were stopping in for their pre- or post-church Sunday brunches. We spoke to a number of our diners who were shocked to here that we had come all the way from San Francisco, and wished us well on the final days of our trip. Somewhere in Ohio, those who asked about our trip began being impressed by the distance we had covered instead of always exclaiming: "Yous a long ways from home". In Pennsylvania, everyone we talked to definitely was impressed with how far we traveled, but are still a bit doubtful that we plan to get home tomorrow.<br />
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We set off from monstrous breakfasts to head down to the Delaware Water Gap. This area surrounding the Delaware River along the Pennsylvania/New Jersey borders is a National Recreation Area. For 20 miles, commercial trucks and businesses are disallowed on Highway 209, leading to a very nice ride. The area is very flat compared to the Poconos, with only some rolling hills that help us to keep us our momentum. The temperature was hot though, and with the high humidity leading to lots of sweating, we had to make sure to have enough water for the 20 mile stretch with no options for water refilling. We did not get to see as much of the Delaware River as we had expected, but the break from the mountains was well received.<br />
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Emerging from the Gap in Milford, PA, we decided to push on another five miles towards Matamoras to grab a Subway lunch. We cooled off in Subway and grabbed the last few things we would need for our trip from the attached Walmart. Off we headed through Matamoras and into Port Jervis, NY. Unfortunately, the state of New York denied us a "Welcome to New York" sign, so our collection will be one short (I hope Connecticut also does not disappoint us). We were now following Highway 6 as it mirrored I-84 (too bad we cannot just ride this back to Farmington). Leaving Port Jervis, we had to climb our final mountain of the day, but the grade was easy and after 20 minutes of low gear grinding, we reached the top.<br />
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The hills continued to roll as we headed towards our dinner in Goshen, NY. I had pancakes #4, 5 and 6 for the day, while Jonathan replenished his electrolytes (mainly sodium) with some Chinese food. After dinner we were left with a 19 mile ride to the western bank of the Hudson River. Per usual, we continued to roll over hills well after the sun set. Also keeping with our usual pattern, we found ice cream a few miles before our motel and stopped to enjoy some soft-serve before cruising into our lodging. Tonight's neighbors seemed to be really enjoying themselves as they starred off at nothing and yelled nonsensically. Luckily we were unable to hear them from inside our room.<br />
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Today's ride left us with about 93 miles tomorrow to the Health Center, a distance that we are confident that we can cover.<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i>Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-18771301699500131942014-08-09T09:25:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:14:32.201-07:00Day 52 - Mifflinburg, PA to White Haven, PA (83 miles)We left the Mifflinburg Hotel early this morning and were finally able to see all the historic buildings of downtown Mifflinburg and take some pictures of our hotel. <br />
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Also this morning, we were able to take in the smell of the horse poop from the Amish horses that permeates throughout the town. Thinking back, I am sure that some of this was flung up from our tires onto our bikes/gear/legs last night as we rode through the dark night. We rolled over to the rail-to-trail and hopped on a great paved trail that headed east to Lewisburg. Eventually the trail became packed stone, but was still so well maintained and well-used by the locals that our bikes traveled over this surface with absolutely no issue. The trail ended up lasting a little over eight miles and dropped us out at a bike shop in Lewisburg. We stopped in, as we often do at local shops, and browsed a bit, made a few purchases and then headed over to a Perkins to grab breakfast.<br />
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A quick breakfast later and we were heading past Bucknell University and further east towards the Pocono Mountains. As Highway 45 came to an end, we merged onto Route 642 and caught up with the first unsupported bike tourer that we have met since leaving Daniel in Cody, WY. This man was from England and had biked the Pacific Coast before heading to Kansas. Once there, he took a bus to Charleston, SC and has been biking up the East Coast. As we reached the second or third town called Danville of our trip, our new acquaintance headed off and we continued on to Highway 11 towards Berwick. Highway 11 provided us with flat riding in between towns and we made great time despite the road being lined with many business entrances.<br />
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Once in Berwick we crossed the Susquehanna River and reached the start of the Poconos. The town of Nescopeck started our trip on Route 93. The "hills" began immediately and soon turned into mountains and we found ourselves climbing up to our first Pocono summit. While the climb did take a decent amount of time, we found it was not nearly as steep or difficult to climb as the Rockies had been. The one unfortunate part of this part of the trip was that each time we gained elevation up a mountain, we immediately lost it down the other side. We encountered I-80 once again, the interstate that we had left behind in Nebraska after paralleling its movements for the better part of a week. Unfortunately, Pennsylvania does not condone interstate travel by bicycles. As we headed across the next valley, we passed a sign saying "Peacock Crossing". I thought the homeowner was being ironic until we saw a peacock walking down their driveway...<br />
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The next climb was much steeper, but once again we shifted down and climbed it without much fanfare. Reaching the top, we coasted down into the town of Drums, PA. From this point we knew it had taken the 2013 riders 227 miles to reach Farmington. With some mileage left in our ride today, it made our plan to get home in two more full days of riding, finally seem plausible once more. We grabbed Subway after Drums and took a short rest. The first thing we faced after eating was a steep climb up to the highest elevation we had seen so far today. Luckily this time, the descent did not waste our hard work and instead we descended slowly over a number of rolling miles. We much prefer this type of descent. We soon reached White Haven and knew we had about 5 miles more of climbing before we reached our motel. Luckily there was a McDonald's along the way so we were able to satisfy our nightly ice cream requirement.<br />
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When we reached our motel, the innkeeper could not believe we had pedaled all the way from San Francisco. He called his wife into the lobby and they took turns starring at us and asking questions. As we walked to our room, they moved to the parking lot and continued starring at us. It was a bit odd, and definitely uncomfortable. I planned to put my new tires on as I got flats today, but my old tires surprisingly held up. With the extra time afforded to us by getting in by 9:30, I changed out my tires for the new ones. I hope they fair well tomorrow on the rest of these mountains.<br />
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Our mileage was not massive today, but with the climbs we covered, we should be set up tomorrow to have more descents than ascents, hopefully allowing us to get a good distance into New York. Two more days until our homecoming!<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i>Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-60500780119888451052014-08-08T06:15:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:14:14.510-07:00Day 51 - Ebensburg, PA to Mifflinburg, PA (118 miles) We started today with our drive back to Ebensburg from our Altoona hotel. Unfortunately, the stretch of Highway 22 from Ebensburg to Altoona becomes limited access highway, and bicycles are prohibited. Unfortunately for the state of Pennsylvania, they neglected to post signage about transition, so Jonathan and I headed down this more direct and safer (due to larger shoulders) highway. Two and a half miles into riding, a 1.5 inch nail ruined my no-flat-tire streak came to an end. For the first time since before buying a new flat-resistance tire in Grand Island, Nebraska, I found myself once more on the side of the road changing my tire. A motorist actually stopped to make sure I had what I needed to change the tire, something that does not usually happen when we are stuck/stopped on the side of the road. While I may have been slower at tire-changing than I was back when we got multiple flats per day, I was back to rolling down Highway 22 in no time.<br />
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Eleven miles into our day, we reached Summit, PA. We had been slowly climbing since Ebensburg and now a sign informed us that we had earned seven miles of 5% down-grade. Along with the break this afford our legs, we also got to take in fantastic views of the Pennsylvania countryside as we coasted down into Altoona. We made great time here, but due to an expected lack of solid breakfast options before we would reach State College, we hunted down a Bob Evans. Bob Evans, as usual, gave us a great breakfast for a great price, and we were now ready to ride for hours without needing to stop for a meal. We headed northeast, mirroring I-99, and other than stops caused by stoplights, were making great headway to State College.<br />
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Before we reached Bellwood, we encountered another construction zone, telling us that the road was closed to through traffic in 1.75 miles. With our past record of being able to walk/ride through construction sites, and the detour taking traffic on the Interstate, we decided to try our luck. Unfortunately, the road work was actually a project that involved replacing a bridge over the Little Juniata River, and we were forced to water 3.5 miles of riding (with backtracking) and then take a detour to Bellwood. Of course our unofficial detour also had a road closure, so we had to do even more "creative navigating" to emerge in Bellwood and resume our paralleling of I-99. This road (Old Highway 220) was fairly straight and rather flat compared to other options leading to State College, and it allowed us to make much better mileage than our convoluted route around Pittsburgh did yesterday. We passed an "amusement park" in Tipton, and continued on to the mill-town of Tyrone.<br />
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After we passed the paper mill in Tyrone, my "flat-resistant" tire was tested once more. It failed. To its defense, I am not sure any tire could have survived receiving a through-and-through double sidewall puncture from a 6 inch long screwdriver. This caused a blowout that blew my tire off the rim, and threw the screw driver 10 feet across the road. I was mad that my expensive new tire had been destroyed so completely by roadside trash, but honestly was quite lucky that the screwdriver had not broken my more complicated chain, spokes or derailleur. Luckily I was still carrying my old rear tire that I had been too lazy to ship home. Tire replaced, and nerves regained, we set off to our next gas station rest stop at Port Matilda. Here, I called the State College bike shops, and once I found an acceptable tire, sent my mom to pick up a new pair of tires (I do not want to waste any more time of this trip on the side of the road).<br />
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As we made our way to State College, we had to climb the side of a mountain to catch up to the elevation I-99 had gained. At the top, we realized that we had gone higher than I-99, but were rewarded with a great view of Happy Valley and the city of State College. We rushed down the other side of the mountain and into State College. Penn State was gorgeous and quite expansive. Jonathan said that it reminded him quite a bit of Storrs. Unfortunately when we met up with my mom, it was time for her to start heading back to Connecticut. We consolidated our bags, and left behind our camping gear and anything else we could spare. With our bags lightened, and a hotel reserved in Mifflinburg, we headed out to ride the last 45 miles.<br />
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We were very grateful that my mom was able to come out to Pennsylvania and help us over the past few days. Taking our bags was immensely helpful during our hill climbs, and we do not think we would have made it successfully through the busy and steep Pittsburgh suburbs if we had been weighed down with our panniers. My parents also donated a nice hotel room to us, which was quite a step up from where we have been staying recently, and allowed us to get a great restful night's sleep. Thanks mom! See you soon in Farmington!<br />
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With our bikes and gear we headed along Route 45, and immediately found ourselves in flatter land filled with agriculture. We felt more like we were in Illinois than Pennsylvania at this point. When we reached a gas station containing a Subway, we stopped for our second meal of the day (around 5pm). This time we only ate half our sandwiches and planned to eat the other halves further along on our trip. Unsurprisingly, we felt much better after this meal and while we had more energy after our break, we also did not have stomach cramps from eating too much. Looks like this "moderation" technique might be a winner. As we continued on, the hills began to roll and we soon found ourselves among the Pennsylvania Dutch. The presence of their horse and buggies gave us wide shoulders great for riding, and practice avoiding obstacles (horse poop). We exchanged waves with the Amish, but did not take any pictures out of respect.<br />
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The cornfields disappeared after we ate the other halves of our sandwiches and were replaced with State Forests. We felt more than ever, that we were almost back in New England. The sun set, and before long we were riding under moonlight and light from our bike lights and headlamps. Five miles before we reached Mifflinburg we found an ice cream place, Chilly Willy's. Here we met Mandy who told us that our hotel for the night was a historic building that was potential haunted. I was excited, Jonathan was not particularly thrilled. Apparently employees stayed out of the basement and the third floor had burned down in a fire. The hotel had been recently remodeled/rebuilt. Mandy also told us of a 10 mile-long rail-to-trail we could take from Mifflinburg to Lewisburg tomorrow morning. She said we would avoid a big hill between the two towns, something that excited us quite a bit. After ice cream, we rode by graveyards and agriculture as we approached Mifflinburg. Reaching the town, we took in what we could see of the historic buildings lining Route 45, before reaching The Mifflingburg Hotel and Scarlet D Tavern. The waitress who helped us check-in told us the hotel was built in 1884. She asked about our trip and donated to Lea's Foundation. Our room is on the previously burned third floor...<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i>Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-54353567459749830472014-08-07T12:04:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:13:57.593-07:00Day 50 - Hickory, PA to Ebensburg, PA (96 miles)This morning we started by backtracking in my mom's car through Pittsburgh to the Subway parking lot we had stopped in the night before. We set off on our unloaded bikes (which is such a nice feeling), and efficiently climbed and descended our way along Highway 50. After our driven tour of Pittsburgh last night, we realized that the climbs and tunnels that would be necessary in order to ride directly through Pittsburgh was going to be too much of a hassle. That being said, we still had to head towards the city before we could circumvent it through its suburbs (on the Yellow and then Orange Belts).<br />
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To begin, we had more downhill than uphill, and we made good time as Highway 50 became a divided highway to Bridgeville. It was at this point that we had to take busier, sometimes shoulderless roads around Pittsburgh. The roads were packed because it was still the tail end of rush hour traffic, and we were glad that we did not have our bags on our bikes that would serve to prolong our ascents, and widen our bikes. When possible we road on sidewalks to avoid aggressive drivers, but this solution was often plagued with broken glass and other trash that was strewn about. The hills were steep, but we were able to maintain a good portion of our momentum because we did not have our bags. Eventually we reached the summit of our climbs and got to enjoy a steep downhill ride to the Monongahela River. The traffic and stoplights slowed our progress and we found it frustrating that despite riding quickly, our mileage was accruing much slower than usual.<br />
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Around noon, we reached North Versaille. We had only biked about 35 miles, but being on constant high-alert to avoid bad drivers and navigating in stressful areas necessitated that we stop for a meal. Conveniently there was another Denny's and we sat down to enjoy another one of our "Build Your Own Grandslams". My mom met us here and topped off our supplies of snacks and fluids, and after eating we set off to Monroeville (which is where we had stayed the prior night in a hotel). Being Pennsylvania, the trip to Monroeville required more climbing and descending, but eventually we reached Highway 22. The William Penn Highway promised to finally send us on a more direct eastbound route.<br />
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Highway 22, did not satisfy our expectations immediately though. We found ourselves on more of a commercial turnpike than a highway, and we were once again dodging aggressive drivers, searching for usable road shoulders and being slowed by traffic lights. Luckily, the further we got from Pittsburgh, the less traffic and businesses there were. Along with this transition came an increasing number of mountains that were part of the Allegheny Mountain Range.<br />
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We climbed and fell for the whole afternoon and eventually made our way to a Subway. After our sandwiches we decided to grab another 1.5 hours of riding before it became dark out. The hills had definitively transitioned to being mountains at this point and we had two "opportunities" to test our climbing skills as we had to slowly trudge up mountain sides that lasted around 2.5 miles.<br />
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Eventually we reached the town of Ebensburg around 8:30pm and when we rendezvoused with my mom, decided that we had biked far enough for today, and would head to our hotel in Altoona. We hung the bikes on the back of her SUV and set off for Dairy Queen and beds.<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i>Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-17238491146902891772014-08-06T12:07:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:13:47.101-07:00Day 49 - Cambridge, OH to Hickory, PA (94 miles)We woke today with large ambitions:<br />
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1. We needed to cross out of Ohio, through West Virginia, and into Pennsylvania.<br />
2. We were going to rendezvous with my mom who had volunteered to act as a support vehicle and carry our gear for us over the next couple days.<br />
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As we set off, the air was heavy with moisture and there was fog obscuring some of the road. Clouds covered the sun, keeping it "cool". The morning was not comfortable however, and even with the slightest exertion, sweat would pour off of us due to the oppressive humidity. We passed through the historic portion of Cambridge before setting off to face some more hills. <br />
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I thought that Ohio would continue the Midwestern trend of having flat agricultural land, but instead it seems many of the hills I was expecting to find in Pennsylvania, have slipped over the state border and are attacking us earlier. We climbed and descended too many times to count. Unfortunately these hills were way too steep to maintain any momentum and we were working at our maximum effort, during our entire trip on Highway 22 to Cadiz. To make the situation more fun, the shoulder was most nonexistent and the road was heavily trafficked by oil drilling and fracking equipment.<br />
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The humidity occasionally changed to 10 minute rain showers. The rain did little to cool us, and only accomplished obscuring whether we were dripping water or sweat onto our bike frames and gear. The road to Cadiz passed through a few small communities, some of which housed Amish families, as was evident by some Amish men being driven to work at furniture and other woodworking businesses.<br />
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There were few places to stop along this stretch of road, but we did stop along Piedmont Lake and learn about Civil War battles that had taken place along the stretch of road we were following. Right before Cadiz we were forced to scale the steepest hills of the morning, before reaching a pizza place. As we had ridden quite a bit of distance and burned way more calories that we had eaten so far, our breakfast/lunch meals were rather large. Jonathan ate a spaghetti dinner with salad, while I ate a 14" pizza. While these heavy meals might have made our trip more difficult under normal circumstances, we were in luck. Highway 22 became an actual freeway after Cadiz and we were allowed to ride it for about 12 miles before bicycles were prohibited. These 12 miles flew by, and we were quite disappointed to have to exit the freeway and take older, steeper roads to Steubenville.<br />
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Steubenville was the most built-up city we had seen since Cambridge, but our excitement to escape the hills of Eastern Ohio kept us moving quickly through the city. This was also helped by the fact that the last few miles were purely downhill to the Ohio River. Waiting at one stop sign, a man pulled up in his car, rolled down the window, shouted "Meet my friend" and then proceeded to hold up a plastic spider and make a bizarre noise at us. As we starred at him in disbelief, he pulled a bit farther forward, and continued to make the noise for another 90 second or so as he waited for an opening in traffic to pull out into. I am not sure why people in this part of the state are so "interesting". Maybe they hate the hills as much as we do.<br />
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I would be remiss if I did not mention the highlight of Eastern Ohio. Jonathan and I have been playing the "Sign Game". The object is to identify signs that begin with each letter of the alphabet... in alphabetical order. Coming out of Columbus yesterday we had done quite well, but found ourselves stuck on "x" since Zanesville. It was at the intersection with crazy-spider-man that we found "X-Tra Storage" on not one, but two signs. With the letter "x" now found, we were sure we would be able to complete the game before Farmington.<br />
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After our descent we crossed into West Virginia and sought out a Subway for lunch. I found a "shortcut" while eating, and we headed off to Pennsylvania. Unfortunately the shortcut involved a steep gravel road, so I quickly found another road that would keep us headed towards Pittsburgh. This was a small county road that had the steepest grade climb that we have covered on our trip. Exhausted and sweaty, we finally reached the top of it, and then cruised over to Pennsylvania. Our travels in West Virginia were only about 10 miles long, but they were definitely not easy.<br />
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Once in Pennsylvania, we headed off on Route 50 towards Pittsburgh. By this point my mom was on the other side of Pittsburgh looking for hotels and we planned to head towards each other. Between the towns of Avella and Hickory we finally spotted the CT-license plate clad SUV we had been hoping to see all day. We ditched out gear in the back, and road the final miles into Hickory before my mom drove us back to our hotel. Tomorrow morning we will come back to this exact spot and continue the trip. Luckily for us, and perhaps unfortunately for my mom, there was a Denny's right next to the hotel! Time for another late night "brinner".<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i>Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-6305064494348636382014-08-05T16:01:00.000-07:002014-08-14T10:42:21.348-07:00Day 48 - Powell, OH to Cambridge, OH (92 miles) <div dir="ltr">
We set off from the Mann's house loaded with food and clean clothing all thanks to their great generosity. They had showed us a less trafficked route to follow to the Olentangy Bike Trail that would let us avoid busy roads packed with Columbus commuters. Without much trouble we reached the Olentangy Trail through Powell and Worthington and began paralleling the river of the same name towards Downtown Columbus. The trail was in great condition with good signage and many other people out for recreation and commuting. The trail was great at avoiding busy road crossings, instead offering above and below road level crossings for bicyclists. The trail led us right past Ohio State University and Jonathan was able to see Ohio Stadium for the first time. Photos captured and then we hopped back on the trail down towards the Arena District. <br />
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Emerging in the Arena District we road some sidewalks to get around waterfront reconstruction work, before arriving on East Main Street, which would become Highway 40. We headed out of the Arena District and into a more "interesting" part of Columbus. Suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by Starbucks and Chipotle as we entered the wealthy suburb of Bexley. By this point we had gotten used to riding on a minimal shoulder and dodging traffic as it pulled in and out of local businesses along 40. Although we had not covered a huge amount of distance, this type of urban, stop and go riding is tiring, so I turned to Google and found a Bob Evans on the border of Reynoldsburg. After stuffing ourselves with whole grain pancakes, we headed off on Highway 40.<br />
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The riding was comfortable, with some slow rolling hills and flat agriculture that allowed us to maintain a comfortable pace. The closer we got to Zanesville, the larger the hills began to become. We could no longer maintain our momentum as we climbed these hills, and for the first time in a few states, we were shifting to our lower gears to creep up each hill. Finally in Zanesville we grabbed some lunch at a gas station and met a very interesting woman who was convinced that we were twins. We apparently looked so much alike that she could not keep our sandwich orders straight, and we each ended up with a combination of what we had each wanted on our own sandwiches.</div>
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The hills leaving Zanesville were even less hospitable to biking and exceeded 10% grades. The shoulders were nonexistent and the locals were kind enough to verbally harass us as they sat in the backs of passing pickup trucks. We also saw a young boy walking around, trying to get a piece of plastic sheeting to stick to his sweaty back, he greeted us politely as we passed. What an interesting section of the Midwest!</div>
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Around 7pm, we reached the town of New Concord and decided it would be best to grab dinner before continuing on to Cambridge. We got sandwiches from Subway, which curiously did not have any seating available. Luckily for us, the town of New Concord has outdoor concerts and the Muskingham Valley Symphonic Winds were beginning a performance across the street right as we emerged with our food. We ate quickly and took in two songs before we headed back to the steep Eastern Ohio hills.</div>
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While we wished to continue past Cambridge, there was no real options for lodging that would keep us under 130+ miles for the day. With the terrain continuing to through large hills our way, it was unlikely that we would have made it much further anyway. We planned to stay overnight in Cambridge, and had to endure many hills on the way there. About two hours after we settled down for the night, a large thunderstorm rolled through the area. It was definitely a good idea that we had not tried to push on for a late night of riding.<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles</i></div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-23278920156413477232014-08-04T18:35:00.000-07:002014-08-13T18:41:48.395-07:00Day 47 - Piqua, OH to Powell, OH (69 miles)We slept in a bit, and planned to deviate from our normal routine, and grab breakfast before biking. Conveniently, across the street was a Bob Evans. Bob Evans is essentially a better, Midwest version of Denny's (which if you follow the blog, you have seen is definitely one of our favorite meal choices. Breakfast is packed with carbs and protein, exactly what we need to bike many miles each day). Many carbs and grams of protein later and questions answered about our trip from local diners, we were off towards Powell.<br />
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We headed off through the small towns of Fletcher and St. Paris. While both towns were small, they still had a more Northeastern feel than towns that we have seen before. It looks like Ohio might be the state where we start feeling more at home. Only time will tell. About twenty five miles in, we arrive in Urbana. The downtown is very picturesque and we take in some of the historic sites as we make a short northern diversion up to Urbana's sole bike shop. We need tubes to replace what we used in Indiana, and Jonathan is in pretty serious need of new tires for his bike. I ask the shop owner what he has for puncture resistant touring tires. He then grabs a few options which I can tell are in fact not puncture-resistant, and then proceeds to Google features about them and recite them to me. I am not impressed, and after looking a bit more around his shop decide that we have wasted enough time here, and head off towards our destination.<br />
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Leaving Urbana, we left Highway 36 and jumped onto routes 29 and 161 that would lead us from Mutual to Plain City. Our ride led us through more and more agriculture, something that has become routine, only to be occasionally "spiced up" by some of these increasingly present Ohio trees. The towns we passed through, such as Irwin, were not much more than a couple buildings along 161, with no sources of food or drink. Thus it was up to us to make it the 55 miles from breakfast to a Subway lunch in Plain City. The riding was not bad, and despite our later start and hearty breakfast we were eating lunch about 15 miles from our destination by 3pm.<br />
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The rest of our route got busier and busier as we approached the suburbs of Columbus and passed through Dublin into Powell. As it was the beginning of evening rush hour, the roads were filled with aggressive drivers that were much more confident in where they were headed than we were. With only one wrong turn, we soon found ourselves on the very busy Saw Mill Road, before turning onto our destination's street. Tonight we are staying with my girlfriend's aunt, uncle and cousin in Powell. They have graciously opened up their home to us and treated us to an all you can eat fish and chips dinner. Mrs. Mann also helped us with laundry, the first we had done since Wyoming (and possibly the first time that my non-biking clothes have been washed the entire trip... possibly). Thank you so much Mann family!<br />
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The first thing we did when we arrived was get a ride up to Wheelie Fun Bike Shop (<a href="http://www.wheeliefunbikeshop.com/" target="_blank">http://www.wheeliefunbikeshop.com</a>) in Powell. I had talked to the owner, Ryan, on the phone earlier and he told me that he also was a bike tourer and had some options for puncture resistant tires. When we arrived he showed us the tires and had two great options that we could use for new front and rear tires on Jonathan's bike. We also made some tuning adjustments to both of our bikes. I asked him to take a looking at my rear derailleur, which had been shifting poorly since Illinois. Ryan fixed this quickly and also recognized my rear disc brake rotor was warped. He fixed this as well. When we tried to pay him for the service/installation work he did, he refused. We ended up leaving the shop with free tubes and a new bottle of lube too! Ryan was fantastic and I hope that Wheelie Fun Bike Shop is very successful (it's been open just three months and is the only bike place in Powell). Unlike some shops we have run across this trip, Ryan definitely knows and sells quality products and service. Thanks Ryan!</div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-53453446734195625182014-08-03T20:54:00.000-07:002014-08-13T18:41:18.178-07:00Day 46 - Carmel, IN to Piqua, OH (114 miles)<div dir="ltr">
We set off into the light fog that hung around Carmel and Noblesville. Heading east we were lucky to head through these beautiful suburbs on a bike path that paralleled the busy road for about 11 miles. We made great time and we were in good spirits. We planned to reach Pendleton and grab breakfast. Part way there we reached a Waffle House, something that Jonathan had been looking for this entire trip. We decided that we really ought to get at least the 25 miles to Pendleton of biking in before we ate and slowed down.</div>
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We found a great pancake house online and headed off. We were flying along back roads with small hills helping us to maintain our momentum. Our speed led us to pass a group of local cyclists out for a morning ride. Unfortunately our directions from Google led us astray as they tried to direct us through an Indiana Correctional Facility that was gated and fenced off from the public. We decided it was best to not push our luck, or push past the fence, and instead we headed to another diner and dug into a hearty meal. Once more, we were the only spandex clad patrons, and we stood out compared to the old farmers that were seated for their daily breakfasts.</div>
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After we ate, we headed off on Highway 36. The road was flat, as was typical in Indiana. Still, we made decent time, despite the weak crosswind. (While headwinds are by far our least favorite thing to encounter on this trip, crosswinds are unfortunate because they still do slow us down a bit). Eventually, I noticed that my shorts are catching on my seat, looking down noticed that I had tar on both my seat and shorts. I stop to wipe this off, only to realize that my bike, bags, water bottles and left leg have quite a bit of tar on them. I do my best to wipe this off with leaves from a roadside tree, but eventually just accept that I will have tar on parts of my legs/gear for the rest of the trip. We set off, and not 100 yards later, a small explosion of air leaves Jonathan with a flat rear tire. Upon inspection, nothing pierced the tire, and his tube had spontaneously exploded. (Maybe our repair of the tire sidewall slice from yesterday was not strong enough).</div>
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Tire swapped out, and a new tube in place we keep setting off towards Ohio. We have one last stop in Lynn, IN where we look for an open restaurant, but instead must default to another gas station meal. Yum. After an extended break, and with the Ohio border only seven miles away, we set off. 20 feet later, Jonathan realizes his front tire is flat. We change it, and set off to Ohio!</div>
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Five miles later, another front tire flat for Jonathan. Patch the tube, and we are off! 200 feet later, flat tire number four for the day. We swap tires, and use our last spare tube. Finally we get into Ohio, knowing that ten miles later a Walmart would hopefully have more spare tubes for us. With gentle terrain, and decent road shoulders we make our way into Greenville, Ohio. Sure enough, the Walmart had a few tubes that would work, and we ate a dinner at Subway. We had booked our motel back in Lynn, before we knew that we would spend over an hour playing music tires on Jonathan's bike. Needless to say, the sun was setting, and we still had about 30 miles to our destination in Piqua, OH. Without the sun, the traffic lessened and the temperature cooled. Decked out in lights on both our heads and bikes, we flew through the night. Night riding is tough knowing how late we will arrive at our destination, but the combination of less traffic and less heat usually leads us to very productive pedaling. </div>
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-41716261787722597992014-08-02T18:44:00.001-07:002014-08-03T20:36:07.895-07:00Day 45 - Danville, IL to Carmel, IN (93 miles)<p dir="ltr">We got an earlier start than yesterday, but knew that only a couple miles into our trip today we would be losing an hour of riding due to our triumphant return to the Eastern Time Zone. Even before that happened however, I pedaled my 3000th official mile since leaving San Francisco back on June 19. Right after passing the Danville Correctional Facility, we reached the Indiana state line, and with it, our "new" and favorite time zone. Shortly thereafter, to ruin the moment, a piece of road debris cut a 1.5 inch gash in Jonathan's rear tire. Instantly he lost air through the large hole, and our streak of having no flat tires since Lincoln, Nebraska was broken. We taped the inside of the tire and replaced the tube, and we were off and pedaling in about 10 minutes. The majority of our morning in Indiana was spent on what appeared to be flat, boring cornfields, but we were in fact slightly gaining "elevation". </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9iWZx2skF8UkUWPaoy3VIhsgKh8i6SHPz1dEJBlIuGIQk5f_SIi7l5lZPuU87LsOdn5Lr40Wqxh0Y-doeBbg5C20Y7ExcG4ladFD9rTbGC8Y1SXwkrVpvRxvtF3bZhHO2Xb5cYMt61o/s640/blogger-image-2059346271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9iWZx2skF8UkUWPaoy3VIhsgKh8i6SHPz1dEJBlIuGIQk5f_SIi7l5lZPuU87LsOdn5Lr40Wqxh0Y-doeBbg5C20Y7ExcG4ladFD9rTbGC8Y1SXwkrVpvRxvtF3bZhHO2Xb5cYMt61o/s640/blogger-image-2059346271.jpg"></a></div><br>
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We crawled along as this constant terrain does not allow us to pick up the same speed, and maintain momentum the way that rolling hills do. At a gas station in Covington, we decided to make it almost 40 miles before we would stop for a meal in Crawfordsville. Once there, we were not in the mood for fast food, so we decided to take our chances at the local pizza shop. We split a large pizza that was delicious, and were ready to head out on the rest of our ride. Not even half way to our destination, we knew this day was going to drag on. (Random side note: There was a gas station in Crawfordsville selling regular gas for $3.09 that had an absurdly long line of cars trying to take advantage of this price, which is about $0.40 lower than I've been seeing in the rest of Indiana).
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The afternoon's ride was much of the same flat, slow terrain, and we found ourselves playing games to keep our minds off the ride, and let the miles instead slip by painlessly. We had one of our traditional mid-afternoon gas station breaks where we both refueled and caffeinated our bodies to keep our spirits up. After passing the Indianapolis Executive Airport, we reached Westfield, where we turned off Indiana 32 and onto US Highway 31 to head down to Carmel. This road, unlike many of the US Highways we have ridden previously, truly became a highway, and we quickly exited to take a more scenic bike path and ride through a local park. We emerged next to a large shopping center with businesses and restaurants that reminded us of being back on the East Coast. With only one meal under our belts of the day, we craved real food and headed down to Chili's.
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We were greeted enthusiastically at the door, and as the hostess walked us to our table she enquired about our ride and asked about Lea's Foundation. She had a connection with leukemia and told us about the work she has done with events such as Light the Night. Our waitress, Jessica, was equally excited about our ride and could not believe that we had ridden all the way from San Francisco. As more members of the Chili's staff learned about our story, more of them came up to say "hi" and wish us luck. Just as we started to eat, the manager introduced himself and told us that he had paid for our meal and was very impressed with the distance of our trip and that we were averaging 100 miles per day of cycling. After our meal, Jessica asked for our blog URL so that she and other members of the restaurant staff could read about and follow our trip (Hi guys!). The welcome reception we received at Chili's and the complimentary dinner was amazing and it absolutely made our night. Thanks so much guys!
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Following dinner we rolled across the parking lot to Walmart to supply for tomorrow, and then on to our hotel at the other end of the parking lot. Today was a "short" day, but still took a lot out of us.<p></p>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-87405384709749754832014-08-01T20:08:00.001-07:002014-08-03T20:34:55.192-07:00Day 44 - Normal, IL to Danville, IL (93 miles)<p dir="ltr">After our late arrival last night, we agreed that we should get a bit of a later start today, especially since we "only" had to bike 94 miles. As a departure from our normal routine for biking 30-40 miles before breakfast, we decided to get our second consecutive meal at the Denny's across the street. Filled with our Grand Slams, we headed off to take the Constitution Trail, which was another rail-to-trail bike path that would lead us through the heart of Bloomington and spit us out south of the city on Highway 150 heading towards Champaign. The path was beautifully shaded and being used by many other people.
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Today's ride through the corn was a bit less enjoyable than yesterday's. The road was flatter and the miles seemed to drag on, so the appeal of Illinois was slipping. As we biked we found ways to distract ourselves and soon we noticed that there were dark clouds forming on three sides of us. During a quick road-side break, I checked my phone and saw on the radar that there were scattered thunderstorms throughout Illinois and that Bloomington (where we had come from) and Champaign (where we were headed) were both getting hit with very strong storms. Luckily, for the time being, we were in the clear so we continued on our trek.
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Eventually we reached Mahomet where we decided to grab lunch at Subway. Eating our subs, Jonathan noticed a weather advisory had been issued around noon. The advisory stated that over Urbana (right next to Champaign), a funnel cloud had been spotted by a trained observer, and that there was a continued risk of funnel cloud formation until 4pm CDT. With storms closing in on Mahomet, we saw a window of opportunity to get the next 12 miles to Champaign safely. We biked quickly and only got rained on for a couple minutes right before we reached Champaign city limits. As we rode through the city we saw and heard an impressive display of thunder/lightning off to the north. We turned onto University Avenue and headed towards the University of Illinois and were greeted with beautiful houses and lawns right inside the city. We reached the bicycle shop we were headed for and ducked inside. After browsing, and some light bike maintenance, we saw that the funnel cloud advisory was expiring and the radar was clearing up. We decided to ignore our contingency plan of staying in Champaign overnight, and instead, head the extra 38 miles to a motel in Danville, IL (on the Indiana border).
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As we rode on, we required a few gas station rest stops as our bodies were still tired from yesterday's very long ride. As sunset approached, the clouds began to clear and the sun was actually visible for the first time since mid-afternoon. Looks like our radar reading abilities were spot on. Around 8pm we finally reached Danville and after being disappointed by their many fast-food options, decided to try our luck at the local chinese buffet. The restaurant staff was the nicest I had ever seen at a chinese buffet, and they even offered to make us any dishes that were empty at the buffet. Very stuffed, and loaded with a very noticeable amount of sodium we headed off to pick up supplies for the morning and get to our motel. The Friday night scene in downtown Danville was interesting. I was very glad that the motel we booked was about 5 miles from the city center; with each passing mile we felt more and more comfortable. We arrived at our motel, but before we could get to shower/sleep, we had to lug our bikes and gear up a flight of stairs to our room.</p>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-54481098525330037522014-07-31T20:33:00.001-07:002014-08-13T18:42:11.004-07:00Day 43 - Burlington, IA to Normal, IL (128 miles)<div dir="ltr">
We survived our stay at the Lincolnville Inn with no need to use our bear spray. As we reassembled our bikes and bags after carrying them from our second floor room, we took in the stunning site of a blood red sun rising to the east. We set off towards Illinois and after a short construction site we were rolling over the Mighty Mississippi. </div>
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Once on the other side we decided to walk down to the river bank for a better view. The mud was soft from flooding, but getting down to the Mississippi's river edge was well worth the effort (and frustration of scraping my cleats clean with a stick). </div>
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We headed off Highway 34 for the first time since before Iowa, and into cornfields as we covered some county roads. <br />
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30 miles of rolling cornfields and occasional train tracks later, we arrived in Roseville. We found a local café and sat down for breakfast. While we waited for our food we talked with the owner about our trip, Illinois, and that today was his last day in the restaurant business before he retired and went back to police work. </div>
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Well-fed we headed off to Farmington (Illinois). Illinois has some of the rolling hills mixed of Iowa with the flat agricultural fields of Western Nebraska. Overall, I found it enjoyable. There were finally areas of trees with some deciduous shade trees overhanging the road that reminded us of parts of New England. Reaching the intersection with Highway 41, we saw the ironic "Star of the American Road". The service station has been out of state long enough for their pumps to have warnings that the fuel contained lead as an anti-knock agent. The miles flew by through the countryside and we soon arrived in Farmington. We took the requisite pictures in front of the "Welcome to Farmington" sign, and then headed further into the town to grab a quick gas station snack. </div>
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As we sat down to cool off and refuel, a group of local boys arrived from their middle school football practice. They had seen our bikes and wanted to know all about our trip. They told us that the longest ride they had heard of before was when one of their friends road 10 miles to a neighboring town. They could not believe what we were doing.
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Once more we set off, this time continuing on to Peoria. Peoria was the third biggest city we have biked completely through on our entire trip after Lincoln and Boise. Despite its rough roads and broken up sidewalks as we approached Peoria, we ended up on a road with a wide, well-marked bike lane that likely afforded us the safest passage of our entire day's trip. We sped through the city and eventually onto Illinois Highway 40, that led us over the Illinois River and to our Subway dinner in East Peoria. Finishing up our food quickly, we set off towards Bloomington. We knew that we had quite a bit of distance to cover in order to reach Normal, IL before it was too late.
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We rode on an old railroad line turned bike path from East Peoria to Morton (River Trail of Illinois). I talked with a 61 year old man who was out for his nightly ride on the path. He shared stories of his riding and touring throughout Illinois/Iowa and offered some tips on the roads we planned to take for the next few days. Reaching Morton, we rejoined traffic and pedaled at a brisk 20mph out of the city and back into the cornfields. While there certainly is a lot of corn here, it does not bother/bore me the same way it did back in Nebraska. Illinois has just enough curves and hills to help us keep up our momentum and engage our minds. We rode through a number of small towns along Highway 150 as we mirrored the Interstate (Which we are unfortunately not allowed to ride in Illinois--Our post-dinner ride would have been shortened from 39 to 30 miles if we had been welcome to ride its shoulder).
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The sun set way before we reached normal, leaving us in the dark for the last 15+ miles of our trip. The view was spectacular though as we rode the rising hills between wind turbines, corn and thousands of fireflies. We wished we could have captured the scene on our cameras but knew that they would not have done it justice. Eventually we pulled into Normal, and headed for the Denny's across the street to grab a late night meal. It's such an odd coincidence that we keep ending up having lodging directly next to or across the street from 24-hour Denny's...</div>
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<br />Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-3777331191152258222014-07-30T18:39:00.001-07:002014-08-13T18:42:45.595-07:00Day 42 - Albia, IA to Burlington, IA (95 miles)<div dir="ltr">
We set off with lots of optimism after yesterday's very impressive ride. The morning was cool again, although this time without the dense fog from yesterday. Every downhill chilled me and I looked forward to being warmed up with the sun fully risen. We knew that our legs would be sluggish as they always are first thing, but soon enough we were flying up hills just as we had yesterday.</div>
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Our good fortune of having a safe shoulder continued into Ottumwa. This city is nicknamed "The City of Bridges" due to its many crossings of the Des Moines River. We passed a pretty park and campground that was just out of our reach last night (would have been another 20 miles) and were soon crossing the Des Moines River. After our crossing we saw our first "Share the Road" bicycling sign. It was reassuring to see that other cyclists also ride on Highway 34, which at time definitely feels like the last thing we should do on it. </div>
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Leaving Ottumwa, Highway 34 became a true highway. Now a divided four lane highway, our shoulder once again became less than ideal. For the rest of the day, the majority of the shoulder would consist of 2.5 feet of concrete with periodic rumble strips ruining our smooth riding. Despite the bigger riding surface, the traffic was still light on this stretch of road and we were probably the safest that we have been in all of Iowa. Still flying along the Iowa countryside we reached Fairfield for our daily Taco John's breakfast. </div>
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We set off for another 20+ mile stretch to our next rest stop in Mount Pleasant. As is becoming routine in Iowa, we made great time. There were points today where we were topping 20/21mph as we pointed uphill. We had quite a climb into Mount Pleasant, but after a snack and some POWERade, we were ready to keep biking.</div>
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After Mount Pleasant, we passed through another Connecticut town, New London. Getting to Danville it was time to arrange our lodging. Hotels were busy overall but we found a good deal at a motel that we thought would be acceptable. With the motel refusing to hold a room, we had to hustle the last 14 miles down to Burlington. The motel room was horrible, but did lack a deadbolt despite having an interesting selection of neighbors. This just gave us one more potential use for our bear spray. </div>
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On the way to dinner, Subway, we descended the steepest hill we've seen this trip. It had to be about 12% <u>grade</u>. Unsurprisingly, we chose a different route back to the motel after we ate. </div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-10641784725545074152014-07-29T19:20:00.001-07:002014-08-13T18:43:13.772-07:00Day 41 - Stanton, IA to Albia, IA (127 miles)<div dir="ltr">
The day started with a cool for hanging over much of the Iowa countryside. Without the sun fully risen, it was quite cool outside and this all made for pretty decent riding weather. The early start also allowed us to ride on the shoulderless Highway 34 with much less traffic constantly trying to pass us.</div>
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The hills started off aggressively this morning and it seemed like we were constantly climbing only to fall not quite as much as we had risen. From the hilltops the foggy landscape appeared to almost be an ocean in the middle of Iowa. We approached a thick fog bank that fortunately had good visibility once we were within its boundaries. </div>
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As the sun grew warmer the fog began to lift. The shoulders were still a meager zero to three inches wide. Occasionally there would be 20ft of shoulder that would suddenly appear and then end abruptly for no reason. Reaching Corning, a shoulder appeared once more and this time actually remained for many miles. I was always sure that around every corner it was going to suddenly disappear and we would be sharing the right travel lane with trucks and cars.</div>
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Now that we had a shoulder, Highway 34 was closed to traffic. Since we have had good luck with closed roads previously, we headed past the signs forbidding thru traffic. Three miles in we saw a collection of cranes, trucks and heavy equipment. Where there should have been a bridge, there no longer was one. We walked down into the construction site and we asked if we could walk through the site and on a side construction access path. The workers saw no issue with this and we did not have to backtrack on gravel county roads. We were back on our glorious empty shouldered road. </div>
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Eventually we reached Creston (about 43 miles in) and we ate another Taco John's meal. This first portion of the day had gone by slowly and I was concerned that we would be able to reach Chariton (99 miles) by the end of our ride today. Luckily our pace quickened after Creston. We were flying up and down hills alike. For whatever reason we had suddenly regained the ability maintain our fast 16-18mph cadences up the rolling Iowa hills. Combined with the ever-present shoulder, we were making great time. </div>
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By the time we reached Osceola for a snack and break to refill our water, I had gone from doubting that we would reach Chariton to believing that we could stretch our day out to reach Albia. Following Osceola, our speed continued. The hills were unrelenting but barely slowed us. Finally with these shoulders and speed I began to appreciate Iowa. It is a much prettier and stimulating state than Nebraska and I no longer spend my day hoping to get a chance to stop staring at flat nothingness. </div>
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We powered on averaging over 15mph to Chariton. As it was still before 5pm we decided to grab dinner at Subway then push on another 25+ miles to Albia. Dinner inhaled we set off. Leaving Creston we hit some good climbs which are never too fun on full stomachs. Luckily a "flat" section appeared and we got back into our powerful cadences and were making good time once more. During a short break we remarked that we had finally gotten better at biking. These rolling hills had given us repeated practice at choosing the correct gear and powering up minor and medium inclines alike. </div>
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Right before 8pm we reached Albia and headed to the Albia Dairy Bar before our motel. Nothing finishes off a 127 mile bike ride quite like 800 calories of blended ice cream and candy. Our motel provided us with free drink tickets for the lounge. Altering showering, I put on my best (only) outfit and headed to the bar. For my first beer in over two weeks, I ordered the most local bottled beer they had: Sam Adams. </div>
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-8116956627156469452014-07-29T19:08:00.001-07:002014-07-30T09:22:53.585-07:00Day 40 - Lincoln, NE to Stanton, IA (99 miles)<p dir="ltr">Our early start was interrupted by another slow front tire leak in Jonathan's tire. After patching and seeing there were no bike shops coming up for over a day in Iowa, we decided it was best to start our day at a 24/7 Walmart. Doing this actually led us down a series of nice bike paths through Lincoln that kept us off the pre-sunrise roads. Spares tubes restocked, we rejoined traffic and headed off on Highway 6. Other than the interstate, this road is the major connector between Lincoln and Omaha, so it was quite busy on a Monday morning. We met a man commuting to Novartis at the edge of Lincoln. For about a mile and a half we talked about our trip and biking around Lincoln. We both agreed that a North-South route up to Omaha would be very helpful. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Our commuting friend headed to pulled into his pharmaceutical plant and we continued north towards Greenwood. We headed east, finally off a busy road and onto a slower county road. With this turn off came the rolling hills of Eastern Nebraska once again. Up and down we rolled for nearly 25 miles more to Louisville, NE. Here we raided the local grocery store for some sort of breakfast. We ate out on the sidewalk before continuing our eastward trek towards the Missouri River. Shortly after breakfast my bike started making a clicking sound and I noticed my back pannier was loose. Stopping to fix it, I realized the pannier was attached firmly, the rack however had lost a bolt. Over thousands of miles of vibration, the bolt had loosened and fallen out. One close inspection, I found two other bolts that were also on their way to leaving my bike. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Our climb to Plattsmouth brought more rolling hills on Highway 66. Finally we reached the downtown and headed towards the river. One final up and down, and we reached the bridge toll booth. The toll collector informed us that we could not cross today. When asked why he explained that on the Iowa side of the river, they were paving. We said that we'd ridden in paving construction zones with one way piloted traffic before. His response, "You'll be riding with your lives!" I wanted to laugh, but the thought of backtracking and finding another route across the river 15+ miles north of our location had left me in a non-laughing mood. We told him we'd take our chances and he waived the 25¢ bike toll. </p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqp2lE-l1ThAt1zKAZyIMova-D7QvAGX1tQPqdQPsoqZJVtbE47hGLogydZ07y82-sNPB7bjhcLQIPoCBoiSNCFcny4tYxfZ1__rlA5QGL57ZtVwBwI0uRPfFVClm5QoFqKMx9AWw460/s640/blogger-image--2146158613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqp2lE-l1ThAt1zKAZyIMova-D7QvAGX1tQPqdQPsoqZJVtbE47hGLogydZ07y82-sNPB7bjhcLQIPoCBoiSNCFcny4tYxfZ1__rlA5QGL57ZtVwBwI0uRPfFVClm5QoFqKMx9AWw460/s640/blogger-image--2146158613.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">We followed the pilot car and other traffic across the narrow bridge and into Iowa. We posed for our usual state sign pictures and soon struck up conversation with the man whose job it is to paint the lines on the fresh pavement. He told us about Iowa (apparently they're the second biggest wine producer after California?) and wished us well. We headed off on some flatter road before stopping for another Subway lunch. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWlOH7YtWI8t6Ynbwmi2ZjKrp4aTlJpLk2laeQCk6C-8OczgsuL8ehySo6tbuYRurJABxv5Q-uVxzB_RV4DXwlbEMcQbNnbbHIEjXbGzedhqXBnRviaek8_6uZH2FxG6xOb2UgFOyMdE/s640/blogger-image-1189911061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWlOH7YtWI8t6Ynbwmi2ZjKrp4aTlJpLk2laeQCk6C-8OczgsuL8ehySo6tbuYRurJABxv5Q-uVxzB_RV4DXwlbEMcQbNnbbHIEjXbGzedhqXBnRviaek8_6uZH2FxG6xOb2UgFOyMdE/s640/blogger-image-1189911061.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">After our break we headed off to rejoin Highway 34 which we had abandoned before Lincoln. We were met with huge rolling hills and a narrow shoulder. Then, without warning, there was no paved shoulder at all. We tried biking the packed gravel but that was too slow and unpredictable to be viable. This was really no road for biking but we had no other choice. Interestingly there's a famous annual bike tour across Iowa known as RAGBRAI. All these riders use this same shoulderless Highway 34. I guess surviving this road is possible. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We hugged the white line all the way to Red Oak. Having reached our goal destination, we realized we could bike more but needed a break from this hellish road. One pasta dinner later, it was time to bike the final 8 miles to Stanton, Iowa. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We made good time despite our stuffed stomachs and soon reached Stanton. The traffic had lessened, making this road feel much safer. This gave us hope for tomorrow morning's ride. Stanton is also a large community for Swedish immigrants. This goes along with the Swedish town and business names we have been seeing all throughout eastern Nebraska, and the 2 to 3 Lutheran churches we saw in each small town. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hopefully Highway 34 improves. So far Iowa does not seem very bike friendly. </p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"><i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></p>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-45027605878236079242014-07-27T13:41:00.001-07:002014-08-13T18:43:54.778-07:00Day 39 - Grand Island, NE to Lincoln, NE (92 miles)<div dir="ltr">
515am and my alarm was ringing. After a day "off" my bike, my mind was in denial that we were about to bike again. Regardless, I was glad to be back on an early schedule and ready to test out the new gear I picked up at Wayne's Cyclery. A new flat resistant tire should keep me from switching inner tubes on the sides of highways and new gloves should protect my ulnar nerve and help reverse the pain and numbness in my hands. (I was told gloves usually last 1000 miles, my last ones "lasted" about 2500 miles) </div>
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The weather was cool with a breeze filling in from the NNE. The severe storms that went north of Grand Island had lowered the humidity and the riding today was very comfortable. </div>
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We rode over the Platte River and took in a beautiful sunrise, unlike all the sunsets we've been riding through recently. The road was flat and pretty straight once again. This is the typical Nebraska we have gotten used to. We made great time and after a quick 40 miles we arrived in York for some breakfast burritos. This breakfast at 930am is the earliest we have eaten breakfast while riding in quite some time. This earlier schedule is working great. </div>
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We kept cruising quickly with a good strong wind and easy riding. The only annoyance is the ever-present cracks in the shoulder to keep jarring us violently. Riding into Seward brought us our first climb of the day, and probably the biggest we'd seen since before Ogallala. Still, it's Nebraska, so it was very manageable. Seward was a nice town that would have fit in with any New England landscape. We sat down to plan the rest of our day. Choosing to do a "shorter" day today and a bit more length tomorrow getting into Iowa, we set off for Nebraska's capital (a manageable 20+ miles away) . </div>
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Suddenly Nebraska had transformed. There were trees, everywhere. With the trees came big rolling hills. We rolled our way to higher and higher heights between the corn and trees. Finally we got to roll our way back down to Nebraska flatlands. Even with the hills, we made excellent time. My well-rested legs felt a bit out of place having to climb repeatedly, but the ability to finally rest them on the biggest downhills we'd seen in Nebraska was an awesome feeling. </div>
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We reached the suburbs of Lincoln and cruised into our night's lodging. Refreshingly it was around <u>330pm</u> instead of our more recent habit of arriving after 10pm. The new schedule and cooler weather for the next few days will have us headed to Connecticut in no time.<br />
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-28943103805070771092014-07-26T18:28:00.000-07:002014-07-27T19:02:25.116-07:00Day 38 - Rest Day in Grand Island, NE (0 miles)<div>
Jonathan: Reflections</div>
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600 miles in 6 days. As I sit on my comfortable queen sized bed, basking in the air conditioning that distinguishes the motel interior from the 100 degrees of humidity outside these walls, I can't help but reflect on what has been an absolute roller coaster.</div>
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Over the past week, each day has seen 8-10 hours of sitting on a bike. Sunrises quickly become sunsets, and sleep is merely an unconscious delay towards the next day of riding. Reaching the destination at the end of the day is an incredible feeling, as relief and satisfaction overwhelm the body-- but it is short lived. After a quick meal, shower, and scramble to take care of any remaining needs, it is off to bed only to continue the grind the next day.</div>
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If you, the reader, believe that it is possible to remain completely sane throughout this process - you are mistaken. The journey on the road is flooded with highs and lows, and very little in between. The high moments leave one feeling on top of the world, while low moments can be completely demoralizing. </div>
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Luckily for us, the week started on a very high note. Leaving Shoshoni Wyoming, I was already stressed at the complications caused by my patella tendonitis, while attempting to prepare mentally and physically for what would be my longest day thus far - a 125 mile ride to Glenrock. Compounding to the stress was the fact that the road was through the Wyoming high desert. Miles of seemingly endless highway with limited resources in between (one convenience store for 100 miles). But little was I aware of the (literal) push I would receive that day.</div>
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The winds blew easterly with sustained forces between 15-20 mph. Leaving breakfast, I remember feeling the wind rush through my hair and forcing a smile on my face. It felt powerful, and more importantly, it made me feel powerful. Pedal after pedal, the bike gained speed. It was effortless. Looking down at the speedometer, I witnessed a reading of 30 mph, but was still in disbelief. The bike was moving so quickly, that all feeling of the wind had disappeared. This was an illusion of course, for the wind was still there. It was like I had become the wind. My bike was an extension of my body and for the first time in days, I was excited to be on the bike. Finally, I wasn't simply going through the motions, but I felt alive. Invigorated. It was like medicine for my broken body.</div>
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While days like this are necessary for the spirit, truthfully, they are far and few in between. It is this realization that has forced me to focus less on hoping for great days, and instead to brace for the impact of the difficult ones.</div>
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Upon reaching Nebraska, we had anticipated miles of flat road and eastern winds -- smooth cycling. This was not the case. The winds were strong, and they were against us. Pedal after pedal, we had to work for distance. No meter came easy. In our lowest gears, we sustained speeds of 9 mph. The ground was flat but it felt like we were climbing, only this time we would not have the gratification of a downhill reward in the future. As minutes became hours, my mind became more desperate for something to blame. I thought about how "unfair" the situation was. I pondered why the winds had to fight us. How much simpler this could be without such an incredible resistance. Deep down, you start questioning if fate is simply against you. Although these thoughts are pointless, the darkening skies and thought of hours of riding until reaching the destination keep them in the back of the mind. </div>
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The constant cycle of highs and lows is taxing on both the mind and the body. At times it is easy to ask the question; Why keep going? And truthfully, there are many answers to this question, all intermingled and contributing to our individual motivations. But sometimes, it requires something above the daily minutiae of thoughts to truly act as a reminder of why we endure such physical and mental hardship day in and day out. </div>
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Upon reaching Brady Nebraska, we were hungry, battered by winds, and an hour away from our destination. Distant thunderstorms left us trapped in this small town which had no restaurants but a local bar. One of the waitresses saw us and immediately sat us, reading the distress on our faces. She learned of our story and our cause and was immediately humbled by how far we had come and how far we still had to go. After ordering, she told us that our meal had been paid for. Such a simple gesture, but the impact was indescribable. Among the midst of struggle and hardship, it is too easy to be blinded by the moment to moment challenges. Incredibly, a simple gesture was enough to remind us why we ride. For the foundation, and all the good the ride was doing. For ourselves, and all the strength gained from perseverance. This was more invigorating than any tailwind -- and immediately, I felt like I had once more been saved from the doubts and fears that plagued my mind.</div>
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So we keep on riding. Mile after mile, hour after hour, each turn of pedal brings us closer to home. Closer to our families, friends, and normal lives. Personally, I yearn to be surrounded by all the people whom I've grown to miss desperately on the road, and almost every day, I daydream about being reunited with them. But a process like this cannot be rushed. Day after day, I know we will become closer to home and until that day comes it is necessary to be immersed in all that is going on in the present. The highs, the lows, and everything In between. Truthfully, I don't think I would want it any other way.</div>
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Jonathan </div>
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Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-49121861860264325832014-07-25T13:47:00.001-07:002014-07-27T18:54:35.202-07:00Day 37 - Gothenburg, NE to Grand Island, NE (104 miles)<div dir="ltr">
We woke this morning knowing that we'd have a strong westerly tailwind behind us that would slowly transition to being a more northerly crosswind. Either way, not having a headwind was a very welcome change. </div>
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We made good time to Cozad with the usual stream of cargo trains following us on our journey. There was not much in Cozad save for an arch proclaiming Cozad to be the location of the 100th Meridian. Unfortunately another sign accompanied the arch, saying that the rod between Cozad and Lexington was closed and that traffic should detour onto I-80. This was not an option for us. The gas station clerk called her mom (a member the Cozad Police Department) who said we could ride through the construction zone. We took this pseudo-permission as sufficient and headed past the orange and white barricades. I was happy to not have to add a 5 to 10 mile detour to our daily agenda. </div>
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The construction was to mill and repave the highway to "Lex" as the locals all it. The shoulder was amazingly smooth and we flew with our tailwind for about 10 miles. Cruising 18mph hands-free was a great way to rest my ulnar nerve damaged hands and a good morale boost for the day. Passing past the construction crew we were videotaped on one of their cell phones, not sure why he felt the need to do that. Fresh out of the construction zone, we stopped in at a local restaurant serving breakfast. </div>
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We were seated next to two ladies finishing up their breakfasts. They asked about our trip and fundraising for Lea's Foundation. After we ordered they asked if we had ordered a hearty meal because they wanted to pay for our meal. We thanked them profusely and could not believe we had had two consecutive meals donated to us. After they paid, they returned and wished us well before giving us another $25 cash donation. Nebraska is tough, but the people here do seem very genuinely interested in what we are doing. </div>
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Stops in Overton and Elm Creek kept us fueled up and hydrated. Today's heat did not reach triple digits, but the humidity is the highest we have felt yet this trip. We can now feel ourselves sweating profusely every time we stop moving. Previously we would just have salty deposits on our skin after hours of pedaling. </div>
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We grabbed lunch across from University of Nebraska Kearney. We planned to reach Grand Island, another 40+ miles ahead of us. Today's trip was particularly flat and straight even for Nebraska. We could see small towns approaching by their silos appearing over the horizon miles and miles before we actually reached them. The trains remained our source of entertainment and we continued to exchange waves with the train engineers. I reflected that some of train drivers had likely seen us already in a western part of Nebraska. The next train that passed had its engineer hanging his whole torso outside his locomotive window as he waved at us. </div>
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With a stop in each small town on the way to Grand Island, we crawled our way to "GI". In Wood River a young couple asked us where we were biking. The girl said she thought she had seen us "back in Lex" that morning, but could not believe we had managed to make it so far. </div>
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Finally the sun was setting again, the temperature cooling, and our pace to Grand Island quickening. With a motel near a Denny's and a rest day on the horizon we knew another late night breakfast was imminent. Google Maps showed us a shortcut down Husker Highway and before we knew it, it was time for breakfast #2 of the day. We reflected that while biking at night was cool and easy, we needed to get back on a more sustainable early schedule. </div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-66488876023434696382014-07-24T13:20:00.000-07:002014-07-27T18:49:58.619-07:00Day 36 - Ogallala, NE to Gothenburg, NE (94 miles)<div dir="ltr">
Another day, and once again we face headwinds, heat and ever-increasing humidity. Small towns came and went, and we kept pedaling into the wind, determined to ignore it and distract ourselves from the fact we'd be heading straight into the wind. The drive to get home to Connecticut drives us, but the challenge of wind and monotony of Nebraska make us want to stop constantly. </div>
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Another day of train counting, music, TED talks and discussions about how to improve the ride ensues. My biggest issue at this time is ulnar nerve pain in my hands every time I hold onto my handlebar, and even worse shooting pain every time I let go of my bars. There is no relief, and it's something I feel I will have to push on through for the rest of the trip. </div>
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Leaving Keith County we reached Central Time! For the first time since Eastern Oregon, we had escaped Mountain Time. To me, this was one more check mark on the list of tasks leading to home. </div>
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Eventually we reach North Platte. We eat at Taco John's and seek refuge from the hottest day of the week, with temperatures reaching 100 and a bit beyond. After lunch we sought out a bike shop: new rear tire for me, tri-bars for Jonathan. </div>
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<i>As a side but vitally important note, the bike has officially earned the nickname "Moose" - Jonathan </i><br />
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The steep hill in town was not welcome after our Mexican food lunch. Bars fitted and adjusted, we continued our eastern trek. The bars afforded Jonathan an extra hand position to maintain more comfort throughout our long daily rides. The shop owners told us that North Platte has the largest train classification yard in the world. Not sure if this is true, but it would definitely explain the endless trains we see around here. </div>
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With the sky darkening behind us, we kept pushing on until we reached the small town of Brady. In its convenience store Jonathan saw the radar which showed a threatening storm cell coming our way. We asked where to get food and was told there was a bar out back. We went in and were noticeably the only patrons wearing spandex. Our waitress was interested in our ride and shortly after taking our order came to tell us that our meal had been anonymously paid for. When asked who the donor was, she replied that she could not say. We suspect she might have been an owner/manager, but whoever you are, thank you for your generosity! </div>
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After dinner we powered on to our motel, the Travel Inn in Gothenburg. Checking in we were told our room was "old style, but clean". Clean might have been a bit of an overstatement. Before we fell asleep we lost power in our room three times (two of the times as we were showering). We were told it was because of next door neighbors were using hotplates most likely. Why would someone need to use a hotplate at 1130pm? *cough* meth *cough*</div>
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></div>
<br />Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-35454466064174127012014-07-23T06:29:00.000-07:002014-07-27T18:49:15.850-07:00Day 35 - Bridgeport, NE to Ogallala, NE (89 miles)<div dir="ltr">
Yesterday was a long day battling the wind and we hoped that today would be easier and we might be able to get to North Platte and get back on schedule. Unfortunately as soon as Highway 26 turned east, we knew we would be fighting the wind all day. Physically the wind makes it so that your legs are constantly spinning and never get to rest, even going downhill. Mentally, the wind is a constant pressure on your skin and constant loud whooshing sound in your ears. Further, the slower speed means we will be staring at the uniform landscape for very long uninterrupted times. </div>
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We crawled along, passing through Broadwater and finally arriving in Lisco. Here we hit up the one business in town, a restaurant that opened a few minutes early for us to eat. We ordered sandwiches and swatted away the flies as we ate them. With nothing else to do in Lisco, we crossed the train tracks and headed on to Oshkosh. </div>
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I continued my games with train car serial numbers and we both listened to music to deprive our ears of the rushing sound of wind (we're in denial that Eastern Nebraska is able to blow this much air at us). Jonathan discovered that he can listen to NPR discussions on TED and nearly forget that we are pedaling on bikes for over 8 hours. When I say 8 hours, I mean that is how long our wheels are moving for, the time we are traveling from door to door is even somehow longer. </div>
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The train conductors became our friends on the road as they blew their horns and waved at us. We ate at a gas station in Oshkosh and met a man who told us that there were too many people and trees where we are from. Even though he was completely wrong, we had a polite conversation. </div>
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Approaching Lewellen we found another construction zone, this time with a flagger and pilot car that we had to follow through the milling operation. Through another construction area we sat down to cool off for the last time at Lewellen's convenience store/bar. Here we met the local drinking crew that when told of our plan to bike down to Ogallala, warned us of a massive 6 mile long hill, one which we would not get to go downhill from. We were told of a more scenic route along Lake McConaughy. This route was said to be "less hilly" but our maps showed it added at least an extra 6 miles. We decided that Nebraska did not have hills like the Rockies and opted for the shorter route. </div>
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Sure enough the hill was a manageable 2.5 miles long. Unfortunately, the wind on top of the bluff was intense. We fought hard but made little headway. The sunlight was fading and soon we were once again biking in the dark. The temperature was cooling, and traffic was slower making this a nice ride. Reaching Ogallala, we found a well paved road, street lights and a nice downhill to reach a 24 hour Denny's restaurant. </div>
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<i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></div>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-20702112555375020862014-07-22T19:44:00.001-07:002014-07-25T14:11:41.852-07:00Day 34 - Torrington, WY to Bridgeport, NE (69 miles)<p dir="ltr">After our late arrival and we had a slow departure again. Leaving well after the sun had risen, the air was already quite warm when we left our room. The wind was light and not a factor and we cruised through the rest of Torrington before needing to repair a flat on Jonathan's rear wheel. Flat patched and we headed off towards the Nebraska border. The "Welcome to Nebraska" sign informed us that Nebraska is home of the "good life". I guess we'll see how true that is over the next several days. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3pUT_kblna-SR1Z0TY-3GyRKqqSQipVsPFxdxFslKSi1ePDG5Q0t4UXF0MxXiQNpPJXjssguAP94XmTUp27FDE81h66F8q5RwqEYVeZ0kO-HO-cdydr5bby7r3JLbTgMZdEETtsJNuE/s640/blogger-image--811847220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3pUT_kblna-SR1Z0TY-3GyRKqqSQipVsPFxdxFslKSi1ePDG5Q0t4UXF0MxXiQNpPJXjssguAP94XmTUp27FDE81h66F8q5RwqEYVeZ0kO-HO-cdydr5bby7r3JLbTgMZdEETtsJNuE/s640/blogger-image--811847220.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">A few rolling hills greeted us but in general we were out in the flatness that is the beginning of our Midwest adventure. We were excited to see some deciduous trees, and most importantly, some of them were overhanging the road and providing shade. With the exception of Grand Teton/Yellowstone, we've had close to zero shady rest spots along the roads since the first days of Oregon. </p>
<p dir="ltr">With Nebraska came more freight trains that I have ever seen. Interestingly, most of them are 100 cars or so long, and carrying only coal eastbound and returning empty westbound. As the train car count increased, so did the headwinds. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIuq7HEgs9yXanG3LA4rcw8Eb_XjfYaVTjDvR3LSJhs1wOIs4AjzMJa9ShHMX3Vs03_HC8OhaZjJILXUMOkWs51trGR2OjnCWbR9842IpRVXDaMkFHquXHykwnVQMv627ckkNLnrIw1k/s640/blogger-image-459895319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIuq7HEgs9yXanG3LA4rcw8Eb_XjfYaVTjDvR3LSJhs1wOIs4AjzMJa9ShHMX3Vs03_HC8OhaZjJILXUMOkWs51trGR2OjnCWbR9842IpRVXDaMkFHquXHykwnVQMv627ckkNLnrIw1k/s640/blogger-image-459895319.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p dir="ltr">For the first time since California we were averaging under 10mph and pedaling our best, all to go barely anywhere. Slowly we crept along, amazed by how far we were able to see ahead of us. This fact and our slow speed led us to often stare at some taller landmarks for over an hour. It was clear that Nebraska was going to become more of a mental challenge than we had seen previously on this trip. </p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rT5wIXco2WVy1Db6JLcRHbBOorxx63wiYDk9kfPU2QVQ3JpNmcweAnrPotxzTMQ7XEVVd26SClWgLE_M-Z38Uy6TJs9KifjIpQtW1la-DIXXwRpKTT38i2Zh-4U-obh4F2CoFDSX61o/s640/blogger-image--1728916727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rT5wIXco2WVy1Db6JLcRHbBOorxx63wiYDk9kfPU2QVQ3JpNmcweAnrPotxzTMQ7XEVVd26SClWgLE_M-Z38Uy6TJs9KifjIpQtW1la-DIXXwRpKTT38i2Zh-4U-obh4F2CoFDSX61o/s640/blogger-image--1728916727.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">Soon we were staring at Chimney Rock. Stopping in at a combination RV park/café/gift shop we learned that Chimney Rock was the most often mentioned landmark in the writings of westbound emigrants on the Oregon Trail. We spent a while in this shop talking with the owner as we looked for any excuse to not go out and fight the wind again. After packing 8 pounds of ice into everything we owned, we headed back out to the wind/heat. My boredom grew and I devised games to play with the passing train car serial numbers. For those that are wondering, the numbers are 4 to 6 digits long, and on about 30% of trains there will be two consecutively numbered cars next to one another. Thrilling. </p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnKIKmylW9Vkh0poEAfkFRwLiQTAS36QaIpLvD98uVMDL9E_mcI8NokEKbQxbOYVRUiU6ntLE6wlJKPE9Y9v1_lDF_3nquxNidfqyvxJ0TMNOhyphenhyphen4670s7-DCxqfpa_zhAq0_cQ6Z7U7c/s640/blogger-image--1467647075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnKIKmylW9Vkh0poEAfkFRwLiQTAS36QaIpLvD98uVMDL9E_mcI8NokEKbQxbOYVRUiU6ntLE6wlJKPE9Y9v1_lDF_3nquxNidfqyvxJ0TMNOhyphenhyphen4670s7-DCxqfpa_zhAq0_cQ6Z7U7c/s640/blogger-image--1467647075.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">It became obvious that we weren't going to get past Bridgeport today. As we got closer, hills were added to the fun we were having with the wind. Getting to the top of the hills was tiring, slow work. Once there we had the "opportunity" to see even further in the distance, not exactly what we wanted. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Finally we got to Bridgeport. The motel had a unique self service check-in system. Following local advice we headed down to a local bar/restaurant and gorged on pasta. Going to bed we hoped the wind in the morning would be kinder to us than what we had just experienced. </p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"><i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></p><p dir="ltr"><br></p>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-67819009830373786462014-07-21T21:21:00.001-07:002014-07-25T14:06:02.000-07:00Day 33 - Glenrock, WY to Torrington, WY (124 miles)<p dir="ltr">We started the day off with bagels and peanut butter, along with delicious fruit/yogurt smoothies made by Kathy. On the way out of town we grabbed some supplies at the grocery store, then we headed past a power plant and onto I-25. Our favorable wind from yesterday was at our backs once more. Back on an interstate for the first time since Idaho we faced big uphill climbs followed by big downhill descents. Despite the rolling hills, we still averaged over 15mph, which is fantastic. </p>
<p dir="ltr">In Douglas we grabbed some breakfast burritos from Taco John's, which is quickly become a favorite food choice. <br>
Fighting back against the winds to rejoin the highway traffic flow we realized how lucky we were they the wind would be pushing with us for most of the day. The prospect of future headwinds seemed quite demoralizing. The rolling hills continued as we passed through Orin Junction. Heading the opposite way into the wind was a Bike and Build team. We exchanged waves and I did not envy the headwind they faced. Their only hope was that their dozen riders could all take turns fighting the winds while the rest drafted behind the leaders. Also, their tour is supported and they did not have to carry their bags. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We pushed on over the hills and made it to Glendo. As I-25 turned south, the southwest wind that had been pushing us became more of a slowing crosswind, a sign of things to come perhaps. We refueled our bodies and cooled off. The radio station inside the gas station repeated how temperatures would be reaching close to 100 and listeners should avoid strenuous activities during the hottest parts of the day. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Heading south on the interstate brought bigger hills and stronger crosswinds that did nothing to help push us forward. 20 very long miles later we reached the turn off for Guernsey, and with it a rest area. Wyoming's rest areas are all air conditioned, have clean bathrooms with running water and water fountains with cold water... Take note Idaho. After a long rest and some electrolyte supplements to replenish the electrolytes that had been pouring out of our bodies, we went to leave, only to find that I had yet another rear flat tire. (90% of the time it's the rear tire that gets punctured. If it's the rear, then all the bags have to come off and the bike has to be flipped in order to remove the tire. This just adds to the ordeal of every flat.) </p>
<p dir="ltr">Finally we were off towards Guernsey where we were going to grab dinner and depending on how we felt, either camp at the state park there or push on another 30 miles to Torrington. While most of the restaurants were closed, we managed to make dinners out of items from the grocery store. Before a short rest out on the store's benches we decided it would be best to push on to Torrington. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The first half of this final ride was very hilly and greatly increased our ETA. To compound this, our tailwind had died and was replaced by a light headwind. As the road flattened out, the sun began to set leading to some phenomenal photos. A few miles later I hit the 2000th mile of this tour, meaning that half the mileage back to Connecticut had been covered. With the sky darkening and bugs swarming us we pushed on to Grandma's Inn in Torrington. Arriving well after 9pm, we were glad to see our room had been held for us and that we'd be getting to shower before bed after all. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVjGaGp1Lmyv6pQmmpvU1O0MsLcu5MdYYvaqYHT9XuTU6cAjxwD6I5VInehGvxOJsCFE2SgKyLa8ENxyBAl_A7uA0IR0jKvHmyEIbwoPhmYlV89KyxOVAWtqrEdAIY9ewNw8UmWLc2rg8/s640/blogger-image-1423351108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVjGaGp1Lmyv6pQmmpvU1O0MsLcu5MdYYvaqYHT9XuTU6cAjxwD6I5VInehGvxOJsCFE2SgKyLa8ENxyBAl_A7uA0IR0jKvHmyEIbwoPhmYlV89KyxOVAWtqrEdAIY9ewNw8UmWLc2rg8/s640/blogger-image-1423351108.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<div><i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></div>Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-66150415382564862762014-07-20T21:26:00.001-07:002014-07-25T14:20:10.652-07:00Day 32 - Shoshoni, WY to Glenrock, WY (124 miles)<p dir="ltr">TL;DR: Wind, heat and more Oregon Trail. And wind.</p><p dir="ltr">Once again, we woke early and by 7am were grabbing drinks at the Shoshoni gas station and heading east to our 98 mile goal of Casper, WY. The first 60 miles today would be a slow climb, followed by a slow descent into Casper. Before we left, I let Jonathan know that the wind was supposed to build from our bags as the day and heat went on. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6G-pxSHdYrPvLnLFEVQH14XCMFtbnu6TST4fziU8zRyhiYoAZw18kzWU9RETnOhycsXvF0VZ1o86ZsWgSK2zvX3-Bu3TWygdi2IsU1ubVAHHH2HP3sWx4WCFjPTSd5lJ2NCC3EKVZVg/s640/blogger-image--36028475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6G-pxSHdYrPvLnLFEVQH14XCMFtbnu6TST4fziU8zRyhiYoAZw18kzWU9RETnOhycsXvF0VZ1o86ZsWgSK2zvX3-Bu3TWygdi2IsU1ubVAHHH2HP3sWx4WCFjPTSd5lJ2NCC3EKVZVg/s640/blogger-image--36028475.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">The climb was so subtle that we were making good time and barely felt the climb in our legs. The land grew so flat that we could see for mile and miles before a hill would interrupt our vision. Many elk grazed along the road as we rode by, and they scattered over the plains when they took note of us. 20 miles in, we stopped at the first "town" of the day. Monetta had two mailboxes, two dogs, two buildings, barbed wire and a Confederate flag. Despite the weird feelings we got from this place, it worked as a place to eat our improvised breakfasts. </p>
<p dir="ltr">As we ate, the Confederate flag flapped in the breeze, indicating that our much desired tailwind was beginning to fill in. As we left, our climbing became faster with the wind pushing us along. The scenery became rather routine and our music playlists were essential to get us through the morning monotony. Quickly we reached the 40 mile mark of our ride, and with it, Hiland, WY. Boasting a population of 10 and a 3-in-1 motel, gas station, and bar/restaurant called Bright Spot, the town of Hiland was a highlight of our trip to Casper. Entering the "restaurant" we ordered breakfast and sat down to drink expired Gatorade. We didn't know that Gatorade could expire, but I guess if you have as few customers as Bright Spot then anything is possible. </p>
<p dir="ltr">By the time we finished eating, the wind had intensified greatly. We screamed out of the parking lot, quickly accelerating with our bodies and panniers acting as sails. We reached speeds between 25-30mph on flat straightaways and over 35mph on almost every single downhill. Even climbs were typically close to 20mph. A few miles were even spent without needing any pedaling at all. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Shortly after mile 60 we reached Hell's Half Acre. This multicolored canyon shared a name with the lava fields we saw in Idaho, but not much else. This canyon was beyond my ability to describe and I'll defer to a picture that I'm sure Jonathan took. Interestingly, Native Americans used to drive buffalo into the canyon for slaughter, and more recently (a few decades ago) the canyon was home to dirt bike racing. At Hell's Half Acre we saw another group of touring cyclists hitching a ride westward to avoid fighting the headwind. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAie4WcjpfFdhLqDNSk62C5lDuTd-xTnbN_xZISPBfuK0FaxLnU5KvP-a3fVyCoW1uzsg6rr-1tYsSgTAoxJTL6eaSxcpieMNHp7Ja9XO13UDVkUWalNKqAezH0CLapLDV7NuKVQYyNGk/s640/blogger-image--441127601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAie4WcjpfFdhLqDNSk62C5lDuTd-xTnbN_xZISPBfuK0FaxLnU5KvP-a3fVyCoW1uzsg6rr-1tYsSgTAoxJTL6eaSxcpieMNHp7Ja9XO13UDVkUWalNKqAezH0CLapLDV7NuKVQYyNGk/s640/blogger-image--441127601.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuIsqf-MaCJL-m_d1_zhlk4vvGFbeMIrB5AsYef5_wgoXdNe7ywLwr_o_wjIa86hyTe_PwICfT9-nwU_ESTR0iMeRyqoJVNqSoeauw2Im4fEIi9gZWMcjeByXfjv2Bm64TXVHDjtCOg4/s640/blogger-image--1622477117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuIsqf-MaCJL-m_d1_zhlk4vvGFbeMIrB5AsYef5_wgoXdNe7ywLwr_o_wjIa86hyTe_PwICfT9-nwU_ESTR0iMeRyqoJVNqSoeauw2Im4fEIi9gZWMcjeByXfjv2Bm64TXVHDjtCOg4/s640/blogger-image--1622477117.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">The remaining miles to Casper flew by with the winds howling stronger than ever at our backs. We slowed down by a flat tire for both Jonathan and myself. Constant tire changes is not something I've been missing from Idaho. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiMi3Q8krBWMh2rXFQGL7rDSvEax7zsxFddb9-EAyOwfmYJePCra3SL6upNpH5pHE2vPKtDvWiA3JlQGlRgcimrXC3vrlw50QLMb9dNyRwBBRSmmwH2T6XFrDkdAeibJsQ6LMhH9aDZs/s640/blogger-image-1967526413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiMi3Q8krBWMh2rXFQGL7rDSvEax7zsxFddb9-EAyOwfmYJePCra3SL6upNpH5pHE2vPKtDvWiA3JlQGlRgcimrXC3vrlw50QLMb9dNyRwBBRSmmwH2T6XFrDkdAeibJsQ6LMhH9aDZs/s640/blogger-image-1967526413.jpg"></a></div><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">At Taco John's we decided to push on to Glenrock (about 25 miles more) for the night. We had met Mark and Kathy at McDonald's in Thermopolis. Mark has toured previously and offered for us to camp in their yard if we ended up in Glenrock. I contacted Kathy and they enthusiastically offered for us to head over. The route there was mostly flat with the exception of County Line Hill. But with the tailwind still blowing strong, we made great time. Arriving at Mark and Kathy's home we were very appreciative to be given their guest room and use of their shower. Kathy even offered to do some laundry for us! The generosity of the people we meet on this trip definitely keeps us going strong. </p>
<p dir="ltr">On the ride to Glenrock, Jonathan completed his first biking century! Very impressive considering we did 124 miles with full gear. <br>
</p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"><i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></p>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2791334301269220106.post-41741924442557022082014-07-19T17:44:00.003-07:002014-07-19T20:44:47.581-07:00Day 31 - Thermopolis, WY to Shoshoni, WY (33 miles)<p dir="ltr">Today we had an ambitious route planned. 32 miles to Shoshoni for food then another 100 miles to Casper, WY. The Paris's made us a delicious breakfast of pancakes, eggs and sausage. Best of all: they had the first real maple syrup I've seen since leaving Connecticut. Unfortunately my body had other plans and the stomach pain I had been fighting for the past couple days got the best of me. Sudden vertigo confirmed that I was dehydrated and despite drinking plenty of water, I had become electrolyte imbalanced over the past few days. 132 miles was not going to be possible. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Many glasses of water and Gatorade later, and a few Thermotabs later and I felt 100%. A fantastic Paris meal of spaghetti and meat sauce gave us the energy we needed to get moving. The midday heat was in full swing but we only needed to get to Shoshoni. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The ride first part of the ride was beautiful as we entered the Wind River Canyon. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4YT-FsjUGDW89FcobrgRmYflJ1SUjSh8MdydwPFgyZBMtkMzRSC8RC9goSSFfGhjS6Q8pJ5CTeaL_8_S86TQNCa0B_AWW9epxMCUvq48tK1zs-HJ0FUiwPY30VQ-5DabBISFHmI7vVE/s640/blogger-image--18430507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4YT-FsjUGDW89FcobrgRmYflJ1SUjSh8MdydwPFgyZBMtkMzRSC8RC9goSSFfGhjS6Q8pJ5CTeaL_8_S86TQNCa0B_AWW9epxMCUvq48tK1zs-HJ0FUiwPY30VQ-5DabBISFHmI7vVE/s640/blogger-image--18430507.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p dir="ltr">This ride was a slow climb for its entirety but once again our eyes were deceiving us. Even with a slight headwind, and the fact that we were opposing the Bighorn River's flow, the road looked downhill. Recent "chip and seal" work had left loose gravel and sticky tar in the shoulder. With rocks sticking to our tires, we were in for a bumpy ride. The canyon was beautiful though and with our short distance today we were able to take it all in. There were signs along the canon's length that explained the name and age of the rock formations that reached far above the road on which we traveled. </p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RpKZ-VwILWSC49Ea2Z_rSuX3EgEOfoEZv4AmjMWve9Od0M1wIW8-I2unr-gkGYBg_F7UgmQhvpdG-L8N23fCLsu4ohdxt3UvaFGmYGqnjrdmdHGImG1018saCl7CZljWTcaNDnyjiLQ/s640/blogger-image-2075847457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RpKZ-VwILWSC49Ea2Z_rSuX3EgEOfoEZv4AmjMWve9Od0M1wIW8-I2unr-gkGYBg_F7UgmQhvpdG-L8N23fCLsu4ohdxt3UvaFGmYGqnjrdmdHGImG1018saCl7CZljWTcaNDnyjiLQ/s640/blogger-image-2075847457.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBH96mQQ6B9SJiRGXYnPwgX_51zGrz1Ll9pNH9SB805lsAz4h_1q7RE2GNURfYTodokl-yrraSOwCy7DII__TdCexfuVtmPmfe4HDQ_qVwz1VSGNaelKEiE-S8H0UPAEy1w8RNHEdLDs/s640/blogger-image-1534964924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBH96mQQ6B9SJiRGXYnPwgX_51zGrz1Ll9pNH9SB805lsAz4h_1q7RE2GNURfYTodokl-yrraSOwCy7DII__TdCexfuVtmPmfe4HDQ_qVwz1VSGNaelKEiE-S8H0UPAEy1w8RNHEdLDs/s640/blogger-image-1534964924.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>
<p dir="ltr">Traveling through 3 tunnels in quick succession, we exited the Wind River Canyon next to the Boysen Power Plant and dam. We climbed a few long rolling hills and suddenly we were out in the open. With the mountains at our backs, we reached flatter and flatter land. Sudden we could see for miles. We first saw Shoshoni about 5 miles before actually reaching it. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The Desert Inn Motel is the last of 3 motels still open in town. Before getting there we ate at the last gas station of 3 that is still open. As a welcome change, the only diner in town is still open. In fact, the Mimi Diner opened just today, and was about 50 feet from our motel door. Our luck is looking up. </p><p dir="ltr"><i>Written by Greg Kirby </i></p><p dir="ltr"><i>Photos by Jonathan Kobles </i></p>
Greg Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14698537888539624692noreply@blogger.com0