Is that you can go out to a fine dining restaurant in the grubby shorts and t-shirt you wore to Home Depot.
I borrowed a very big truck, owned by a very large guy. I've borrowed it before and I have no trouble driving stick except...I couldn't get the seat to move up. Apparently, there's a trick to it that wasn't necessary last time. So I made do, looking like a 12 year old on a joy ride and killing my leg stretching to push in the clutch. But hey, what is all that biking for, if not for emergencies such as these?
As if that weren't bad enough, we waited till four in the afternoon so it took 30 minutes of parked traffic on the freeway to get there. I just kept thinking of it as a good workout.
We got our supplies, including 8 fence posts, 13 2x4's, 102 6 ft x 5.5 inch slats, and 8 bags of 80lb concrete mix. The truck swallowed it all and said, "May I have some more please?" I know people think of me as a hard core biker, but I would not have wanted to carry that on the Xtracycle.
It was Jess's turn to supply cheap labor, so her friend T is coming over tomorrow to help us get the posts placed, level, straight etc. She has fence building experience so we're really happy to have her help.
After we unloaded, Jess went on a date with her friend and I returned the truck (it was *very* nice to be able to reach the pedals again!) and then was left to my own devices. I was hungry and wanted to blog away from home so I solved both problems by coming over to the Equinox. Everyone was sitting on the patio and the lighting inside is dim so I didn't have to worry about my shabby state. The waiter-turned-manager gave me a warm greeting. He was our waiter for mom's last meal here on her 55th birthday. I love these guys and besides that, everything I've ever tasted here is incredible. So if you need a party in your mouth, stop on by and tell 'em I sent you.
I had a lovely salad with pear, chevre (cheese) and prawns wrapped in procciuto. I passed on dessert since we still have cake at home, but the manager informed me that I had no choice because Tara was buying me dessert. Well, I never look a cheesecake horse in the mouth but I wisely took it to go so I can share with Jess.
Jess rode to work today, which is a big deal when you have an exhausting 12 hour nursing shift and a 6 mile uphill ride home against inevitable headwinds. I'm always impressed when she does it. I had a meeting in NW this afternoon after which I met her at work so we could ride home together.
She's been 'waiting for the baby' for a few days (AKA PMS) which usually means eating more than usual. Her last snack was at 6pm and by the time we got home just after 8:30, she was starving. I sent her off to shower and headed straight for the kitchen to whip up garden burgers with all the fixings and corn on the cob.
When she came down, she proceeded to inhale everything in sight, along with a few things that weren't, like chips and salsa. Shortly after that, she got out the carton of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food (light) ice cream and a spoon. I tried to gently discourage her from having cake too, but she said, “I'm PMSing and I can do anything I want.” So I wisely cut her a piece. The nice thing about not being a man, is that I get to have my turn to be bossy every month too, but in the meantime, it's just a survival game.
Before you could say “oompa loompa,” she was starting to have regrets. As I sat at the table organizing pictures on my computer, I could see over my monitor, her looking down at her belly with an expression of remorse. Then she started talking to it. “Belly, I ate too much and now you're fat and bloated and...” I didn't hear everything she said. After a few sentences she suddenly looked up at me.
“You're not even listening!”
I remained calm. “You're not talking to me, you're lecturing your belly about how fat it is. It's an A/B conversation. I'm not required to listen or respond...and besides I did to hear you.” I was quite pleased with myself for my mental agility.
“Well, it was funny!” she said.
“Yes, it was,” I agreed. Survival game.
She stood up to demonstrate her over=stuffed state. Her belly did indeed stick out pretty far. “Wow, you really over did it,” I said.
“Well, I'm waiting for the baby, so I'm really hungry and then there's the water retention, plus I had a lot of salt...” Her stomach seemed to be actually expanding with each explanation and I forgot survival mode and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Are you going to be able to lay on that belly for your back rub or will you be too wobbly?” I rocked my torso back and forth as I said it, as if lying on a beach ball.
My life could've ended right there, but fortunately, she literally fell down laughing and so couldn't give chase. Her laughing set me laughing and we giggled and snorted and wiped tears from our eyes for the next 10 minutes. At one point she tried to punish me by biting my leg, but I pushed her away, saying, “No, you've eaten too much already!” which just set us off again.
Though I have permission to post this on the blog, Jess declined to have her belly photographed for posterity.
7/9/2007 Departure time: 10:00am EST Arrival Time 9:30pm EST Penske trucks: 4 Dead deer: 1 Wish I had brought: my brain Pictures
We only had about 7 hours to drive today so we didn't bother even pretending to try to get up at the crack of dawn.
Kansas City signaled our departure from corn & field country and a re-entry into city territory. This made for more interesting scenery, but also meant that it was much harder to find empty radio stations for the Ipod adapter. We were forced to listen to the radio much of the time and it got old pretty quickly. There's only so much Justin Timberlake I can handle before my eyes get a little crazy and I start to twitch. And the 'Beautiful Girls' song became particularly torturous.
We passed through West Virginia and then out of it again into Pennsylvania for a hot minute and back to WV. They don't even bother putting up the welcome sign until the second time as if to say, “no you're really here this time, promise!” We stopped in a cute little place called Morgantown for lunch at the Mediterranean Deli and Market. Looking out the window, I spotted a woman on a Specialized road bike in full Lycra (and a helmet!). I can't wait to get home to my bike. We also had our first lesbian sightings of the entire trip. How do I know? Well, we can just tell these things...gaydar you know. Also, the “Spank Me” T-shirt was kind of a give away.
I started dancing to the cheesy 80's music inside Coldstone. When Traci ordered me to stop, I reminded her that she needed me to haul all her shit up to the 11th floor of her new apartment building and therefore I could do whatever I wanted. She had no answer for that. I got more shit for recognizing 'Waiting for a Star to Fall” in the first 3 notes.
“Ah but what's worse is that I know all the words,” I said, and proceeded to sing along. By that time she had gotten her ice cream and headed outside. She said the air conditioning wasn't conducive to ice cream eating, but I know better.
On our way back to the car, we spotted two more lesbians, making a total of four for the entire trip, all in a little West Virginia town of all places. Like Mastercard, we're everywhere you want to be.
Back in the car, we finally got out of the city so we started Traci's Ipod back up. The first song in the play list was The Chipmunk song which I think pretty much absolves me from my cheesy 80's moment.
The scenery in WV reminded me of home except that I had to snicker when Traci told me that people refer to the hills there as 'mountains.' Perhaps they are in the technically geological sense, but as far as I'm concerned, anything I could ride my bike up, doesn't qualify.
The names of the lakes and mountains were pretty amusing as well. Cheat Lake and Fairchance Rd could be reached via the same highway exit. Then there was Deep Creek Lake and finally our favorite (not), Negro Mountain, elevation 2740. We both did a double take on that one. I can't believe that with all the hub bub about sports teams names and such, no one has gotten around to protesting the moniker of Negro Mountain. I don't even want to know how it got such a name in the first place.
We got into the hills of West Virginia and Maryland and our little truck started to struggle with the climbing. The only efficient way to get up the hills was to try to get momentum on the downhill, not unlike in cycling. This plan doesn't work out so well however, when there's a state trooper sitting at the bottom of the hill.
I'm sorry officer, I was just trying to make it up the next hill. I'm sure if you average my speed over the crest, it would come out to sixty-five...
Luckily Traci was paying attention and nixed the momentum strategy.
We stopped in Cumberland on a tip, looking for a cool geology feature near the visitor's center. It was after 6:00 and the visitor center was closed so we had to content ourselves with another cheesy tourist picture.
I wonder if the people who fought and died on the very land we were standing on ever thought their history would end up on small plaques detailing battles over the railroad station? While we were reading these, I saw another U-Haul pull up in the parking lot. A man got out and pulled a nice looking road bike (and helmet!) out of the back and set off on a bike trail. I tried not to drool. Two more days...
With all the junk food I've been eating while sitting around on my ass, it's a really good thing I'm riding 200 miles next weekend. I can't wait to be moving under my own power. And when my butt starts to hurt from the saddle, I'll just remember what my knees felt like after 2994.8 miles in the car.
Our geological feature turned out not be in the town but on the road itself. The Sideling Hill road cut is just that...a big section of rock that was cut out to make room for the road. We stopped and took the bridge over the road to see both sides but unfortunately the information center was closed. Geology geeks can find more information here.
After that it was the home stretch to D.C. We couldn't go straight home though because Jess had been going on and on about a place called The Dairy Godmother that served frozen custard in the style of her childhood home in Wisconsin. The place is closed on Tuesdays so it was now or never. Fortunately they were open till 10:00pm because it took is almost that long to get there. My brain was fried from the road I guess and when I called to ask the best way to get there I repeated the instructions back three times yet still managed to omit the vitally important detail that we should get off GW parkway at hwy 395 until the last second. Of course that wasn't enough warning and little did I know that there aren't that many exits off the parkway. We took the next one and ended up wandering around Arlington with Traci in full tired/cranky/road rage mode before we finally found it.
When we walked in, the first thing I noticed, besides the fact that it was completely packed, was the huge roach crawling around on the wall above the counter. Welcome to D.C.! Traci worked in a restaurant in D.C. One summer and and she told me that roaches are more a matter of management than elimination. So I didn't let the disgusting sight put me off my goal. I ordered a vanilla custard and it was indeed very good. But I think I'll be just as happy with cake batter ice cream from Coldstone, which fortunately I can get at home.
After that we finally made it to Columbia Plaza in downtown D.C., Traci's new home. She had gotten permission for us to park in the loading dock and we had an appointment to unload the next day from 10:00-4:00. They give you an elevator key so you can completely monopolize it for as long as you need and they pad the walls as well, which seemed appropriate for our mental state after so much driving.
7/8/2007 Departure time: 8:30am CST Arrival Time 12:30am EST Penske trucks: 7 Dead deer: 2 Wish I had could've brought: Mom Pictures
Our alarms went off at 6:00. I had showered the night before so I went right back to bed, waiting until Traci showered before getting out of bed.
When she woke me again, it was 7:26 and she was still sitting in the chair by her bed with her laptop on her lap, talking on the phone. While she was on hold, she explained that today our reason for leaving late was so she could set up her appointment to get cable/Internet/phone in her new apartment.
She couldn't do that from the road? I thought and said. But this was her trip and I was just glad for the extra sleep. As much as I loved the idea of getting on the road at 7:00am so we'd have a decent amount of time to relax in our new city, it also required getting up before 7:00am. We've never been morning people. But she had specifically said she wanted to start early today so we could see the arch in St Louis and get to Columbus in time for her to visit some college friends.
I hadn't even thought about the arch, but once she mentioned it, I thought it would be totally cool to see. We could at least stop and see one really cool landmark on this trip...and besides, after leaving at noon the day before, I felt positively accomplished about getting out before 9:00.
Our free breakfast was right in line with the rest of the accommodations at the 'Quality Inn,' which is to say, severely lacking. No hot food, some boiled eggs I didn't trust and tiny dry looking muffins. We both went for the relatively safe Fruit Loops. At least the milk was on ice. I got a Styrofoam cup of orange juice, and longed for my environmentally friendly familiar surroundings. The OJ was sour and I nearly spit it out. We took 2 minutes to finish our cereal and I took a yogurt to eat in the car. Traci reminded me to grab a spoon.
“We have spoons in the car,” I reminded her. Lovely, New Seasons biodegradable spoons made from corn. I couldn't wait to go home.
What we didn't have was water, since our gallon from the previous day had gotten a leak in it. I knew we needed gas though and the station just before the freeway said $2.99 so I figured we'd stop there on our way out.
This was the start of the day's mis-communications. Traci passed right by the station and hit the highway. When I asked why, she said she'd wait and get gas down the road. “Well, I need water,” I told her. Sometimes I can't figure that girl out. It made absolutely no sense to me to pass up perfectly cheap gas at the outset of the day in favor of having to stop less than 15 minutes later. When the next station came along, she was all set to cruise merrily past it as well and I had to tell her to pull off. I was sick of dehydration headaches.
With three full water bottles, some Tang and a full gas tank, we got on the road for real and I passed the time until my drive shift reading Mixed by Angela Nissel, a book about being biracial in America and the funniest thing I've read in a while. We stopped at the rest stop just past the Missouri border. Not only did the toilets flush automatically (of course) but the sinks were fully automated. All you did was stick your hand under the appropriate spot and soap squirted into your waiting hands, followed by a stream of water and then a blow dryer that actually lasted till my hands were dry. “A no-move, no-touch experience!” boasted the sign above the sink. I would've been more impressed if I hadn't turned around to find a door handle waiting to be pulled. All that, and they couldn't reverse the entrance to push on the way out? At least then you can use your foot, if you're that paranoid about germs.
I took over after a couple of hours, with 129 miles to St Louis. We agreed to stop there, see the arch and have a real lunch since breakfast was so bad. Once we got into city territory, our Ipods became useless because we couldn't find a dead radio station for the radio receiver adapter. Traci thought a new adapter that worked with any station instead of our current four preprogrammed ones would work better so we looked at our Rand McNally Atlas from Wal-mart which helpfully lists the location of every Wal-mart in the country. There were stores available at three of the next seven exits.
We got back on the road and straight into the worst traffic jam I've ever seen. Three lanes of traffic and the only one moving was the one on the right and only because those people were headed towards the exit. We did see a group of six guys on motorcycles and they were all black, so of course we took pictures. Poor little deprived Oregon girls.
I thought I could finish the drive to St Louis before handing over the wheel, but the traffic jam did me in. The boredom of sitting in one place and inching forward was too much. I could barely keep my eyes open. I figured if I did hit someone at least we were only going 5 mph, but decided there was no point in risking it. I put it in park and we switched seats without getting out. I thought about making a movie of the traffic jam with some commentary, but I was too sleepy. I rested my head on my balled up shirt and promptly fell out.
Some time later, I woke up to Traci hitting me on the leg. Apparently, it had taken a few tries. I jerked upright, still woozy and half asleep, but I saw immediately why she was hitting me. We were approaching downtown St Louis and the arch stretched up magnificently in front of us. I snapped out of my fog enough to grab my camera and take a few pictures. Traci said there was an elevator that went to the top or close to it. Now that I'd laid eyes on it, I couldn't wait. For an hour or so we could feel like we were on a real road trip.
When the arch passed out of view and we crossed the Mississippi, still moving away, I spoke up.
“I'm confused.”
“What?”
“We seem to be going away from the arch.”
“Oh, did you think we were going to stop?” She looked stricken. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean I wanted to stop—I just wanted to go through downtown so we could see it. I want to get to Columbus.”
I got terribly upset when she said this and she could tell. “Do you want me to go back?” she asked.
“Well, yeah!” I said, knowing we probably wouldn't. She went on to explain that she didn't know where we could park the truck downtown and how we'd end up in Columbus really late, etc. I could've pressed the issue, but I knew she was right.
None of it made me feel any better. For some reason, I had been focusing on that arch as the only thing I had to look forward to all day. My feeling of disappointment magnified all out of proportion as the miles ticked on.
Before we left Portland, I called my grandmother to check in. I usually call her before a big trip, cause I know she likes to schedule her praying and worrying time. We talked about the trip and things in general. She asked how I was doing in a way that I knew really meant, how's the grieving? I told her what I tell everyone, that I'm generally fine until I'm not. I told her about going back to the beach where I took mom this time last year. She asked how that was and I said it was fine. The things you would expect to be hard (like mother's day) don't really seem to get to me.
“So what does trigger you?” she asked.
“I don't know until it happens,” I said.
Apparently, this was the new trigger. Steer clear of aborted trips to the arch of St Louis. But it was too late. The disappointment caused the wave of grief I'd been holding off for two days to swell up and cover me completely.
I tried to go back to sleep, but instead just sat there with tears streaming down thinking about mom—how she should have been doing this trip instead of me, or we should have all been on it together or at least Traci and I should have been able to call and tell her to watch some cheesy movie we'd made of our trip to see the arch and posted on the Internet.
After a while, I reached for my book again, hoping to distract myself from having a full scale meltdown in the car. It sort of worked. I still had to wipe my eyes and nose with a napkin every few minutes, but I wasn't a total wreck.
Then Traci asked if I need the rest area that was coming up.
We pulled into it, our little truck dwarfed in a row of five or six semi's. Traci stayed in the truck while I got out and made what seemed like a mile walk to the bathroom/visitors center. When I got inside, there were two open stalls and two women waiting in line. “No toilet paper in those,” I heard one of them say. Great. I can't even wipe my eyes, I thought. I kept my shades on and tried to breath deeply. I could just imagine what I looked like to strangers, 'cause when a stall finally opened, the older woman who'd been waiting said, “You go ahead honey.” I must've looked as on edge as I felt.
So I went in and peed and cried in peace. Sobs wracked me but I kept them silent except when the noise of flushing or blow drying gave me cover to wail in peace. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain to some nice traveler that no, I was fine, just my mom was dead.
But I couldn't really take up the stall for too long so eventually I pulled it together long enough to wash my hands and go outside. I took a big wad of the coveted toilet paper and continued my breakdown at a nice shaded picnic table, undisturbed by other travelers.
When I was finally done, I walked back to the truck, where Traci was still waiting. When I opened the door, she said, “Thanks for not ditching me and hitching back to Oregon.”
I assured her that I wasn't mad about the arch incident and I wasn't going to ditch her. “Mom already ditched us both.”
Not only did we not stop to see the arch, but St Louis was now well behind us and no lunch had been had either. Traci had assumed that the row upon row of suburban exits containing endless food choices would be repeated on the other side of the city, but that was definitely not the case. Now we were both starving and I had a headache from crying.
We finally stopped at some tiny podunk—I can't even use the word town-- and ate at the Red Apple family restaurant. The floor was dirty, our table hadn't been wiped and I sat gingerly on the outside of the booth to avoid the crumbs and what looked like a smudge of Crisco on the inside. At least I didn't see any roaches. I had encountered my first one at a Taco Bell a few hundred miles back and I was just a little freaked out. “Welcome to the east coast,” was Traci's response.
We saw this cross, the largest I've ever seen, in the town of Effingham, IL.
My next drive shift came up at the Indiana border. Depression makes me tired and after 30 minutes, I was struggling, but Traci had been driving for hours, so I felt bad giving up so soon. I pulled into a Flying J and bought a couple of iced bottled frapuccinos and jumped up and down for a minute. After that I was fine.
Once again, near the border of Ohio, where Traci planned to take over, we hit (almost literally) another ridiculous traffic snarl. I had to change lanes to avoid hitting the car in front of me the change in speed was so sudden. After that everyone started merging into the left lane, so we followed suit. After crawling along for 20 minutes with no idea why, we finally passed two cars pulled over on the side of the road. They didn't look like they'd been in an accident, but there were two black, shaved headed monks standing outside the cars wearing long flowing bright pink and purple robes. Sadly, I could not get my camera out in time for that one.
Traffic picked back up after that and I was relieved from driving shortly after we crossed into Ohio. Traci graduated from OSU and even though it was late, we stopped to see her friends J and D and sat visiting on their porch for a half hour. Under the circumstances, I thought I displayed great patience. Finally we went to the hotel, another Comfort Suites that was much cleaner than the Kansas City Quality Inn. There was no Internet signal though and I had been assured hotels with wifi on this trip. A quick reading of the information card revealed that access could only be had through the wired Ethernet system. If you don't have a cord, one can be purchased at the front desk, the card said.
What kind of primitive crap was that? We weren't even going to be there a full 12 hours. So annoying. Traci went to check it out and the front desk clerk offered to loan it to us if we brought it back by the 6:30am shift change. But in the end, we needed the sleep and Traci just bought the cord. I spent an hour or so catching up on mail and fell into bed.
It feels like I've been waiting for this day for a year. Somehow the summer I envisioned of chilling out, grieving and writing turned into the summer of running a million miles an hour. Which actually isn't too much different from any other summer, but the month and a half of non-stop travel really took it out of me. In hindsight, I would've made some different choices.
But finally things are slowing down and I'm staying in one place for more than a day and today was the ultimate prize--a day of doing pretty much nothing. I did get up in the morning to run out for emergency craving groceries so I could have biscuits with fresh blackberries that we picked last week.
I worked on the blog for a while, uploaded some more pictures, caught up on my bloglines and puttered for a while. Across the table from me were two of my favorite girls being unbearably cute:
After breakfast, we played some Chinese checkers. I don't play often, but I used to play with mom and Grammy when they tired of scrabble wars, or were willing to switch games to I'd have some tiny chance at winning. Jess hadn't played in years and needed a short refresher course. I helped her with her strategy and she improved quite a bit in just one game. I predict in another 4-5 games, she won't need me at all.
We spent the afternoon watching movies. This is always a risky activity because we are TERRIBLE at picking movies at the video store. The badness generally falls into two categories, boring/unrealistic plot (Deja Vu) or completely depressing.
First we watched My Brother, which came from the Indie film section, starred Vanessa Williams and the cover description promised "an uplifting tale" in which two brothers overcome impossible odds, blah blah blah. Right. After an hour and 40 minutes of watching the older brother make one stupid choice after another we get three minutes at the end where he comes back and they supposedly live happily ever after on the sale of the diamonds Isiah stole from some Italian mafia guys. Oh but the best part...the endless flashbacks where we get to watch their mom waste away from some terminal disease! Like I really need to see more of that right now.
Our other movie was one I pulled off the shelf without a second thought because it fell into the category of one of my major obsessions: horses. Ruffian is the true tale of the greatest filly in horse racing history, who not only was never beaten in a race, but actually led the field at every pole of every race she ever ran and set or equaled the track record every time. I actually read a book about Ruffian during my 'horse phase after Seabiscuit came out. So I'm not sure how it was that I completely forgot that she broke her leg in a match race with Kentucky Derby winner Foolish Pleasure and died.
But hey, until her leg snapped in mid-run with the up close gruesomeness only modern special effects can provide, I was really enjoying the flim.
Euthanized horse aside, the special features were really excellent and included the real footage of all Ruffian's races and interviews with her trainer, the sports writer who covered her the most, jockey and others.
In the evening there was more puttering on the Internet, dinner of leftovers from our recent bbq and cake. Even though we had a ton of sweets in the house from our party on Saturday, I had to make a lemon cake for Cory--standard payment and we sent him home with the pan. "How often do you make this cake?" he asked.
"Whenever we get our bikes worked on," I said. And it occurred to me that indeed, I haven't made a lemon cake for myself to enjoy since my birthday. I figured if I was going to violate the 'sweets in the house rule' then I would rather have my own cake so I formulated a quick exit strategy for the store bought cookies and cake leftover from the party and took them down to Kinkos for the staff to enjoy.
We played one more game of Chinese checkers before bed and I won by just two moves. As soon as Jess learns to look for sideways jumps, I'm a goner.
7/7/2007 Departure time: 11:45am MST Arrival Time 11:00pm CST Penske trucks: 6 Dead deer: 1 Wish I had brought: The cast of Live Wire Pictures
Our pattern of setting a ridiculously early waking time and then not waking up was well established by now. Besides, driving on no sleep isn't such a great idea. So I wasn't surprised when I woke up around 8:00 and Traci was just starting to pack up the box she forgot to pack up the day before. I took my time showering, getting dressed and doing a very thorough search for anything I had brought. With a whole house to roam, I had left things laying in every room. Not very smart, but I managed to get it all.
We wedged the last few items into the truck and then headed to Traci's friend's house to drop off her car. There was visiting and showing off of the dog, the cat, the kid and the jeep. It was getting close to 11:00 when I just stood up and declared that we were leaving. We still had to stop for breakfast, which we did at Denny's.
I had been warned by several people about the utter tedium of the drive ahead of us once we left Denver, and I wasn't disappointed. The land stretched on in unending flatness where the most exciting thing to be seen was miles of corn. My music wasn't helping me so I put on my podcast of True Stories, a performance hosted by Courtenay Hameister who also hosts the Live Wire Radio theatre show. The stories were as twisted as I've come to expect from Courtenay and her friends and kept us laughing all the way to the Denver border. (If you do nothing else this week, download the podcast and listen to Jim Brunberg's performance of "One Night Stand--hil.ar.i.ous.)
We stopped in Burlington to see the Kit Carson Carousel. As we pulled into the fairgrounds we saw a sign that said, “Rides 25 cents.” We figured maybe it was leftover from the historic beginnings of the carousel but the rides were actually 25 cents! Sweet. Rides happened every thirty minutes and we were right on time to catch the next one. Traci picked a row of giraffes. I wasn't expecting much excitement since the animals didn't go up and down but that little old merry-go-round had some speed! We got up to ten miles per hour, enough to feel a few g's and sway towards the outside.
After we rode the carousel, we paid a dollar (a dollar!) to go into the museum and check out the history of the carousel, the restoration and the story of the theft and subsequent return of three of the animals in 1981. There was a cut out of a carving in process and a demonstration of how a pipe organ works. Very cool.
That was pretty much the most excitement we had all day. We crossed into Kansas and made our usual stop at the rest area visitor's center. Our welcome to the Midwest was cemented when a girl in the bathroom asked one of the cleaning workers if she had anything to get the permanent marker off her back. Soon the woman was enthusiastically scrubbing the girl's back with orange degreaser which seemed to work pretty well. I didn't get to see what the writing actually said and I can only imagine how it got there, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was alcohol involved.
This was also the point in the trip when I noticed that every rest stop contained toilets that flushed automatically. I have no real complaint about that, it's certainly nice not to have to touch it, even with my feet—but every time I go into airports or other places where things are automatic, I get the feeling that in another hundred years, we'll have so automated everything in our lives that we'll completely lose all motor function. We'll be a lot like that Star Trek episode where Kirk and the gang beam down to a planet where the inhabitants are just big brains sitting in huge jars of formaldehyde, or the 21st century equivalent.
We moved on and for the rest of the day it pretty much just looked like this:
Late in the afternoon we went through Topeka, a place I've made many jokes about (I'm sure the next CSI is going to be set there), but never thought I'd see personally.
I ended up driving the last shift and for once I was feeling really awake. Traci was fast asleep which left me to listen to music and think, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Whenever my brain has free time, there's a good chance thoughts of mom will wander through.
When I finally reappeared in my math class after the funeral, my classmate LC made the analogy that grief is like walking along the edge of the ocean—your feet are always wet and then every so often, a big wave comes up and takes you out. I really liked the analogy even though I hated the annoying therapy voice she used when she said it. When I went to Hawaii I rented a boogie board and spent the afternoon riding the waves and I made the mistake just once of turning my back on the ocean. One minute I was standing there happy-go-lucky with my board hand—the next second I was eating sand. Grief does indeed feel just like that.
I hadn't had a big wave in a few weeks and driving along highway 70 through flat Kansas country, I had too much time to think about how fun it would've been if mom had been with us and remember fun things we did do, taking road trips to California to see the family just about every summer of my entire childhood. The music wasn't helping and I had to skip carefully through the Ipod shuffle for upbeat songs. It really would not do to start crying while driving at high speed on a strange highway at night.
I managed to hold it together and soon I was distracted with the city itself. Kansas City was much larger than I expected. We couldn't see much besides the lights of buildings and the massive stadium home of the Kansas City Chiefs which we could see the inside of pretty well from the road. But the sheer density of the city and the fact that it took forty-five minutes to get through it, made an impression.
Our hotel made an impression as well, unfortunately not a good one. When we walked down the hall to our room, there were seven or eight kids playing in the small hotel pool with no parents in sight. Our room was grungy and dirty, especially after the bright clean Comfort Suites in Ogden. But the final straw was when the kids got out of the pool and went on to amuse themselves by running up and down the hallway yelling. It was after midnight at that point.
I called the front desk and asked if they would say something to the kids and/or parents.
Desk clerk: Where is the noise coming from? Me: We're in room 112. DC: And where is the noise coming from? Me: They're running up and down the hall. DC: Do you know where the noise is originating? Me: That would be in the hallway. Outside our room. Room 112.
I wasn't hopeful but I wasn't getting dressed again to go out and yell at them. I went to bed and eventually fell asleep.
7/6/2007 Departure time: N/A Arrival time: N/A Dead deer: I should hope not! Penske Trucks: Just us Wish I had brought: Men folk (not)
When we were at the storage place in Portland packing up the truck, it was like we'd stepped into a 1950's time warp. First the woman in th storage space a few doors down from us (who was working by herself), asked us, “How come you're moving it all yourself?” in a tone that clearly said, Can't you find some nice boys to do that for you?
I replied, “Um, because it's our stuff.” in a friendly tone that I hope still managed to say, here's a ticket to the next bus headed for 2007.
Later, a new group showed up, two men and a woman, all over 40. The guys asked us how many more loads we had in a tone that said, How soon before we can monopolize the elevator on our floor? And we said we had a lot more loads to go in a tone that said, Did you not see the sign that says ALWAYS CLOSE THE ELEVATOR?
We exited with our load and they went in with theirs. As we loaded the truck, which always involved moving the ugliest chair on the planet that Traci has insisted on carting back and forth across the country twice now, the woman who was with the two guys said, “You girls don't have any menfolk to help you?” Yes, she actually said, 'menfolk.' Never leave home without your flux capacitor, I thought. We told her no, we didn't and continued loading.
The next time we came down with the mattress and box spring. They were too big to fit on our small carts, so we'd just hauled them to the elevator without one. When we got downstairs, I ran to open the truck and when I came back, Traci was moving the bed spring by herself by turning it end over end. The guys were heading into the elevator so I told her to leave the box and come get the mattress so they could head up. We each took an end and hefted it without fuss up and out of the elevator.
“Strong girls!” we heard one of the guys say as we left, which set us both laughing. I've been told that some straight girls make a point of hiding their strength from guys so they won't have to actually do things for themselves. Maybe that's why these guys were so astonished that we could move our own stuff.
I doubted we would have the same commentary in Denver and we definitely wouldn't have any help. At least I got to sleep in.
We went to IHOP for breakfast and I couldn't play my usual game of count the black people because there were too many! I lost count almost immediately. We definitely weren't in Portland anymore.
When we got home, we split up. Traci worked on packing up the rest of her stuff in boxes, while I opened up the truck and repacked it to make room for the new items. Not only was it not as bad as I thought it would be, but I kind of enjoyed it. I spent two holiday seasons working as a UPS loader in days gone by and my training came flying back to me in no time. After an hour, I had a nice space opened up. I went and helped pack up the rest of the boxes, and take apart shelves and by 3:30, we had it all laid on the lawn. Then I went to work, telling Traci which items to hand in and fitting all together like a jigsaw puzzle with just enough room left to throw our travel bags in the next morning.
When we were done, we ate the leftovers from dinner the night before, showered and then headed out to play. My reward for packing was a trip to the REI flagship store in downtown Denver. We were confused about the flagship label, since the first REI is located in Seattle and is also considered a flagship store. An employee enlightened us that the label is based on the size of the store, not the order in which they were built.
The climbing wall was impressive. After I signed up, I got a pager so I could roam the store while I waited for my turn. It didn't take long to get called. In checking out the walls, I wasn't sure what route to take so I asked, John, my belay partner, for help deciding. Climbs are generally rated 5.6-5.9 but I had no idea of the rating of my other sporting goods store climbs. Medium hard was the best description I could come up with.
John described a few of the climbs and the choices seemed to be a medium climb that looked so easy as to be boring—and a 5.9 route that looked well beyond my ability.
I decided to take the challenge.
(Note: Traci made a video of most of the climb which doesn't seem to have made it onto my hard drive. If she survives her first week of law school and sends it to me, I will update and include it ~K)
After the climb, I just had riding the mountain bike trail to cross off my list. Time was running short, but it wasn't very busy and I found someone to help me right away. My hands and legs were still barely working from the climb, but I figured biking is something I could do in my sleep.
I had to fill out a waiver first though and my hands were shaking so much that my handwriting looked more like a that of a four year old on crack. But I managed five fun laps around the single track trail.
Feeling satisfied with my adventures, we left and headed to Little Shanghai restaurant to have dinner with my friends G & B. I haven't seen them since the 90's and we had a nice time catching up over delicious sizzling rice soup.
When we got home, there was a lengthy and stressful search for Traci's phone. I looked all the places she had already looked with no luck. Finally, even though she swore she hadn't packed it into a box, I went and opened the truck anyway and called her from my phone to see if I could hear anything. I didn't, but I heard a shout of glee from inside the house that meant she had. It had fallen off her desk and into a garbage bag. We didn't think too hard about what a disaster that could've been.
While I was trying to get into the truck, it came to my attention that I wasn't exactly sure where my keys were. I borrowed Traci's and wondered if this was just our day to lose everything important. But I found them in her purse of all places, while she swore she didn't put them there but she has been a little scatterbrained on this trip at times.
Finally with all our essentials located, we could get some sleep.
(Note: I'm finally getting around to posting the rest of the blogs from our cross country drive last month. ~K)
7-5-2007 Departure time: 8:30am MST Arrival time: 9:30pm MST Dead deer: 2-3 Penske Trucks: 6 Number of black people spotted between Portland and Denver: 2 Wish I had brought: No Doze Pictures
For those of you with short attention spans or busy schedules, you can cut to the chase:
Movie disclaimer: This represents about 5 hours of self-taught Imovie skills, so expect weird transitions, bumpy camera work and uneven audio. Basically, you'll feel like you were there!
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The deer count is in question because I saw what may have been two halves of one deer about a quarter mile apart. These are the few times when I'm glad I'm not on a bike...
Everyone was a tad bit crankier this morning as we got started, but thankfully, nothing came to fisticuffs. Traci mentioned going to Antelope Island in the morning, but then I thought she said it was too far out of the way. So when she asked me if I still wanted to go, I was confused. "It's not too far, it's just 10 miles," she said. "Do you want to go?"
"I'm ambivalent," I said. Wrong answer. She had a little tantrum about decision making. Turned out she was ambivalent as well and hoping I'd make up her mind for her. "Fine, let's go then!" So we went.
Just outside Ogden, we took the exit and went down a street until it ended and turned into a long causeway leading to the island. I found it a little creepy, the way the road stretched out so deserted over the water. The smell of sulfur hit us so hard, my best mouth breathing couldn't conquer it. There were about a million little gray and white birds off to one shore, no doubt feasting on brine shrimp, one of the many delicacies the island offered to it's huge bird population.
We were the only car on the road. As was my habit, I was checking the shoulder of the road for bikability. I checked my odometer so I could figure out how long the ride from the mainland to the island would be. When I looked up again, I saw a speck of red in the distance, not big enough to be another car. Holy crap, could it be...?
"Traci, get the camera, there's a biker up there!" She obliged. Somehow I always feel better when I see bikers in the towns we stop in. The fact that he was acting out my exact current fantasy (minus the sulfur smell and the 90 degree heat at nine in the morning), put me in a good mood.
We did a quick tour of the visitors center, skimming plaques with information about birds, bison and antelope they had to be reintroduced into the island. The island is huge and there's a ranch at the far end. I would've loved to go rent some horses and go out in search of seeing some bison up close if we'd had the time. I wondered if the biker would see any.
It was 10:00am when we got back on the road. In my zeal to figure out my new video capabilities for blogging, I had stayed up pretty late the night before and forgotten that we'd crossed a time zone during the day. My computer clock said 1:00am when I finally shut it off, which I realized belatedly meant 2:00am local time. As a result, I didn't last long behind the wheel. By noon my eyes were droopy and I yielded the cockpit to Traci. I spent most of my non-driving time sleeping throughout the day and the rest of it reading the entire manual for my new camera so I could learn about cool features like color filters:
I was very glad that the next day would be a 'rest' (i.e. non-driving) day.
While I would've been perfectly content to wipe the sweat off my brow from making Cory lunch after he finished digging our fence post holes, Jess decreed that I should get off my lazy butt and do a house project. So we hung up the road bikes, which of course took about 1.8 hours longer than it should have and necessitated a trip to the store, which is what happens when the toolbox that's not really a toolbox isn't organized so that you think you're out of #10 two inch screws when in fact you have plentysix of them on hand. But I digress.
You're so observant! Why yes, we did. But sadly, bikes fall down, go boom. So we bought a support board that's been sitting in the garage for over a month and re-hung them. They better stay put this time.
There's no denying that when it comes to bike shops, I'm something of a ho. There are so many to choose from and I dabble in several different ones depending on the need of the day, location, price convenience etc. But I've always had a special love for Seven Corners (now on 21st and Powell) bike shop. This is mostly because of Cory, the fabulous guy who owns and runs the shop. When I was searching for a replacement for my stolen KHS mountain bike many years ago, he was the only one who didn't laugh at me when I said I didn't want the 'upgrade' of disc brakes and yes, I really did want grip shifters.
I went to see him and he basically custom built me the exact bike I wanted, and for a great price. Cory doesn't seem to have customers, he just has a lot of friends who need bike stuff. And that's why we still make the almost eight mile trek to have him work on our bikes or pick up some gloves or just say hi.
On one of these visits, we mentioned needing to build the rest of our fence sometime this summer.
"Oh yeah, I have a great post hole digger, I'll dig the holes for you," he said.
When you think about it, it's kind of an outrageous offer, but clearly, he didn't think so. So last week I called him up and sure enough he said, "What time should I come over?"
As I type this, he's out in the yard, working on hole five of eight. He didn't want breakfast, coffee or soda and we'll probably be hard pressed to get him to eat any lunch...although I'm sure we'll have no trouble getting him to take the lemon cake I made, which doesn't seem like nearly enough of a thank you for such a hard morning of work. But, much like my dad was at the grill yesterday, he seems to be happy and in his element.
Still, it boggles my mind a little when I think about it.
So like I said, they just don't make 'em like Cory anymore.
To say I'm completely overwhelmed with how 'behind' I am on this blog would be an understatement. We've actually been back from vacation since last Sunday night but I've been running a million miles a minute since then. So this an attempt to just post something in the hopes of making the task less daunting.
Wednesday we had a day that was more like what I thought my whole summer would be like. Sleep in, have a nice breakfast, slowly mosey out of the house on bikes to go pick blackberries. After that we stopped a the Bike Gallery so I could look at shiny new mountain bikes (more on that later) and then to Trader Joe's since we were in the neighborhood. They've finally moved into their new space in the old Gold's Gym location and it's huge and very nice to have so much space.
Then we hoisted ourselves and our groceries up the Alameda ridge to the Kennedy School for a Women for Bikes meeting. Then we headed home and paused to look at the amazing sunset/moonrise over the west hills.
We're headed back to Crater Lake to ride our bikes around the rim and then go explore around Bend. Back in a week. Maybe I'll actually update before the year month is over...
After 14 hours of travel to get home from D.C. to Portland, I had one day to 'rest' (read: unpack and then repack) and now we're off to catch the bus to Seattle for the STP ride.
The good news is, all blogs and video from the D.C. trip are *this* close to done. Hopefully I can get some time Sunday night and Monday to wrap them up and post. Look for an explosion of words and other stuff on this space. :-)
Last night we had a very impressive thunderstorm, complete with lightening. J, being from the midwest, was cooly unfazed, while I was like a kid in a unicorn shop everytime the sky lit up. Seems the weather from D.C. followed me home. That was nice and different, but we're getting on our bikes tomorrow so we can now return to our regular three months of uninterrupted sun.
There's gotta be some perks for putting up with gray northwest winters!
I'm sitting on the floor of my sister's new apartment in Washington D.C. (Yay pirated wifi!) We made it here around 10:30 EST. I'm so glad that's finished! In six hours we get up to have breakfast and then unload starting at 8:00am. Hopefully we'll get done in time for me to walk around and take even more touristy pictures and visit a few museums.
Many lengthy posts, pictures, and video will hopefully be uploaded by Wednesday night.
We made it to Denver last night and we're spending the day packing up the rest of Traci's stuff. It's nice to be off the road, but by the time we finish packing, I'll be glad for a nice (clean, orderly) hotel tomorrow!
It's actually going pretty well so far. I'm hoping we get done in time to go play at the REI flagship store here (MTB trail, climbing wall). They even have a cold chamber to test out sleeping bags! I won't be trying that out, but it's really cool (no pun intended).
I went a little crazy taking movies with my camera yesterday so now I need to figure out how to edit in IMovie. Hopefully I'll have some time to work on it in the car tomorrow.
It's really nice to see Jelly Bean again. He's as fat as every and just as slutty as I remember.
(Independence) Day 1 – Portland, OR – Ogden, UT (730 miles) Departure time: 8:19am PST Arrival time: 11:00pm MST Dead deer: 9 Penske Trucks traveling in the opposite direction: 8 Wish I had brought: hand sanitizer. my girlfriend. Pictures
Traci starts law school at George Washington University in Washington D.C. In just over six weeks. She's been working madly to organize the transport of the furniture and stuff from mom's house and her things in her Denver apartment, to her new place in D.C. The final solution was to rent a U-Haul and drive across the country, stopping in Denver to pick up the rest of her stuff.
That's where I come in. Normally mom would be the logical candidate to help her drive and get settled in but since that's not an option anymore, I took on the role of sloppy seconds and agreed to do the job. My summer is turning out to be incredibly packed, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that I have no job. I had a week-long window of availability between our beach trip last weekend and our Seattle to Portland ride on the 14th of July. We spent yesterday moving things from the storage space to the truck and now here we are, setting off across country on Independence Invasion day. By the end, we'll have either enjoyed a sisterly bonding adventure, or be really glad to be living three thousand miles apart.
I got up at 5:30 this morning and spent some time having breakfast with Jess and getting those last few Internet related to-do's done before I finished packing and we headed out.
I somehow forgot to buy turkey for our cooler yesterday so we couldn't leave town without just one more stop at New Seasons. I know they have grocery stores in other parts of the country, but I couldn't help feeling like we were about to leave civilization and there would be nothing to look forward to except a sea of Shell stations and rest areas.
I splurged for the expensive fresh cut turkey. We got into the truck and I opened the cooler and realized something important.
“We forgot ice,” I told Traci and we smacked our collective foreheads. It was a lot like trying to get out of the house, where I inevitably end up going upstairs eight separate times for things I forgot. But we finally got it together and headed for the open road.
It's amazing to me how much stuff I think I “need” to survive away from home for a week. And by stuff, I'm not talking about things like snacks, water & underwear. No, the packing list that concerned me the most contained the following items:
computer & cord (w/ lighter attachment!)
podium pad (to keep lap cool)
camera (new!)
books & journal
Ipod & car radio adapter
headphones
cell phone & charger
Battlestar Galactica DVD
keys
wallet
That's right, it's all about communication and entertainment. It's telling that I left the three bottles of water I bought for the trip in the front hallway by the door and it took until Boise for me to notice.
The first order of business was to break out my laptop and test out the lighter adapter cord. Every time I go on a road trip and get all excited about all the writing I can do while I'm not driving, the lighter doesn't work and I have to fall back on plan B. It's happened enough that I was starting to doubt the cord instead of the lighters in the various cars. With eight days of driving ahead of us, it was with some trepidation that I stuck the plug in to see if my little icon would switch from the battery symbol with it's shrinkage percentage of power left, to a comforting little picture of an electric cord. Before I even got it plugged in though, I saw the little blue light of success.
Yay! That means I'll have lots of time in the car to document this trip with the navel gazing detail you've all come to know and love/hate. And on a more practical note, I'll have plenty of time to do my homework for my on line Photoshop class.
That brought me to item number two, music organization. I have been missing the cord that connects my Ipod to my computer for a number of months now and I finally found it late last night which meant I could finally update my Ipod play lists. I decided to spend my first batch of free time rating all my songs and making new play lists. Suddenly 1500+ songs didn't seem like nearly enough to get across the whole country, but since I only have control while I'm driving, maybe I'll get by.I got behind the wheel for the first time in Pendleton, OR. I hadn't driven it at all yet, so I spent a few miles getting used to the feel and the fact that looking in the rear view mirror was utterly useless. Luckily that stretch of road is pretty deserted, so there was hardly ever anyone behind me anyway. But I never did stop looking at it or turning my head before changing lanes, as if I could actually see anything that way. Car habits die hard.
My first shift went pretty well. My biggest concern about this trip has been the fact that I pretty much hate driving and it's been a long time since I did a long distance trip. I wasn't sure about my stamina level, even for three hour shifts. Like reading a book for some people, sometimes just the act of getting behind the wheel with a long boring road ahead is enough to make my eyes droop. Fortunately, after an initial tiny slump, my play list kicked in and I actually started to have a good time. Listening to Salt n Pepper pared with Disney's Greatest Hits can do that for you.
Another concern I had about the trip was being trapped in a confined space for long hours with my sister. I love her dearly, but she does chatter on sometimes (most of the time) in a most unstoppable fashion. So far, my fears have not been realized. In the car, she's generally quiet except for pointing out good scenery, occasional memories of trips gone by with mom etc. Last time they drove this route, they stayed in Ogden as well and mom saw someone she knew in the motel parking lot. So typical. When we stop at towns or rest stops, word flow returns to normal, but that's fine with me. And (unlike me) she doesn't even sing along with her music.
A few early observations:
1. Rest areas in the middle of nowhere are not big on stocking soap. :( 2. Small towns really are different. We have not stopped once that someone hasn't said a friendly hello and/or tried to start a conversation. 3. Stretching outside the car in 103 degree heat—it's just like hot yoga! 4. You can take the girl off the bike but you can't take the cyclist out of the girl. I just read (book title) about a middle aged, out of shape writer who decided to bike across the country so, even more so than usual, I look at the road as a cyclist, checking out things like the width and smoothness of the shoulder, the presence or lack of rumble strips and the grades and lengths of the climbs. We've been on the road less than half a day and I miss my bike already. I saw a car with two high end mountain bikes at a rest stop and couldn't help striking up conversation with the occupants on the way back from the bathroom. They were on their way to trails in Wallawa, from Portland. I will definitely bike across the country someday. 5. There are way too many dead Bambi's by the side of the road between The Dalles and Ontario. 6. T.B.S. (Tiny Bladder Syndrome). It's not just for biking anymore! Right now we're hoping I can make the 72 mile gap between rest areas, as there is not much cover by the side of the road... Traci is very disgusted by this inconvenience.
We stopped in La Grande for our first refueling. I'm really glad not to be paying for the gas on this trip. If prices keep going up, those Oxen might start to look pretty good. I was thinking as I drove that when gas does run out, people are going to have to get to whichever part of the country they want to spend their days in and stay there.
I got out of the car, just to be getting out and then decided to go into the store for a snack. When I went back to the passenger side door to get my wallet, there was a bee hovering next to the big yellow truck as if it had hit the mother load. I waited for it to figure out that the truck wasn't a flower, but it didn't seem to be getting the clue, so I went to the driver's side.
“Convenience” stores are proof that Satan exists. What is about them that makes me feel like I have buy something, even when there's clearly no need? I will make it my goal to escape one with my wallet unscathed. So far I resisted powdered donuts (too messy) in favor of snack pack pudding, which I haven't touched yet. Also, Traci has gotten me hooked on Lipton PureLeaf ice tea, which doesn't help the T.B.S.
My driving shift ended in Ontario, our last stop in Oregon. I have any number of projects to work on while I'm not driving. One of the top three is learning all the features of my new Pentax Optio M20 camera. I've been reading the manual from the beginning so I can at least get an idea of all the cool features and then look them up later. If this post ends up with embedded video, then I will have checked of one of those low priority oh-I-need-to-learn-that goals.
Boise came up not long after and we left the highway for a little while so Traci could show me her turf. Boise is one of her frequent stops while she's working so she's got a fondness for it. She even mentioned she wouldn't mind ending up living there. What I saw of it did seem nice. I saw people riding bikes for the first time since leaving Portland (no helmets) and got all nostalgic again. “Yup,” Traci commented, “there's plenty of your people here.”
We drove into downtown and she showed me the Red Lion where she stays on work trips, the mall she goes to, the movie theatre etc. Suddenly she lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Let's go to the ice cream place!” There was some worry whether it would be open on a holiday but when we pulled up, there were plenty of people sitting outside the fanci Freeze, including an older couple on matching Specialized hybrids. I had the urge to ask if I could take a spin around the block but, like kissing the babies of strangers, I felt it would probably be frowned on and resisted.
fanci Freeze was worth getting excited about and here's why:
Originally, we planned to stop for an early dinner, but after filling up on Boston sundaes (my girlfriend isn't reading this is she?) we decided to wait. If we can't find an open restaurant in Ogden, we still have plenty of sandwich makings and fruit in the cooler. As we headed back to the freeway, we passed the Emerald Bar where Traci and I could both go dancing if she does move to Boise—the subtitle under the bar name read, “Straight Friendly.”
Traci chose the ultimate pop play list for her driving shift and as each new song comes up, there are a lot of chorus of “Seriously!?” or just outright hysterical laughter while simultaneously turning up the volume. Fortunately, our musical tastes have a wide overlapping streak in the area of anything smacking of vintage pop/disco/cheesy stuff. A few examples: 'Hello' by Lionel Ritchie, Candy Girl by New Edition and (wait for it), the remake* of the Christopher Cross song 'Sailing' by (wait for it again) N'Sync.
Things were uneventful for a while after Boise. The Snake River lived up to it's name as we passed over it several times while going in a basically straight line. The landscape was brown and featureless for the most part, giving me no reason to look up from my typing until a few miles before Wendell. Traci said, “Animals,” and pointed out the window. My nose told me it was either cows or horses so I didn't look up. Then she suddenly shouted again, “ANIMALS!!” I looked up to see a herd of seven or eight puppies (yes, you read that right) running west along the shoulder of the eastbound highway. They looked insanely happy, like they were so excited to have escaped.
We were horrified. They could get run over any moment, but there was no way we had time to stop and dodge traffic in the hope of catching them, even if we'd been willing to. I like puppies, but my girlfriend would be slightly put out if I got run over trying to save a bunch of them. So we did the next best thing and called the Wendell police and told them the mile marker where we'd seen them and which direction they were going. The female officer assured me someone would check it out. We felt slightly better after that. I hope they use the sirens to get there.
Mile 590, I was typing away and Traci said something. I didn't catch it and it seemed like something that might require a response.
“What?”
“You missed your cue.”
I thought she said 'q'. I knew she had been playing the alphabet game by herself so I started looking around for a road sign. There was nothing.
She saw me looking around and said, “You're Paul. You missed your cue!”
That's when I finally realized that “The Girl is Mine” had just come up on the Ipod shuffle and she had been singing along and now it was Paul McCartney's verse.
I burst out laughing. It was too late to pick up my verse, but I was ready when the next one came. By the end we were both laughing too hard to really get the talking parts right:
P: Michael, we're not going to fight about this, OK? M: I told you, I'm a lover, not a fighter. P: I've heard it all before, Michael . She told me that I'm her forever lover you know, don't you remember? M:Well, after loving me, she said she could never love another P: Is that what she said? M: Yes, She said it, you keep dreaming. P: I don't belieeeeeeeeeeeeeeve it...
This song just gets better with age, given the irony of Michael's proclivities. We both agreed that Paul 'wins' in the song. And since I was playing Paul and the girl is actually mine, it works out both ways.
After that I joined in the alphabet fun because, what's a road trip without the alphabet game? I took the early lead, but by 'j', we were even again and then spent the next few letters leap-frogging each other. Then we passed by the town we were in and letters got scarce. Traci got 'q' off “Quality" on the only semi for miles around and that proved to be my undoing. I was hoping the glare from the setting sun would blind her to the hazmat check point, but no such luck. Round 1 to Traci.
About 40 miles from Ogden, we were treated to not one, but three different fireworks displays that were almost directly ahead of us, so even Traci (who was driving) could enjoy them. We pulled into a rest stop for a few minutes to catch the last of the first show.
We pulled into the parking lot of the Comfort Suites at 11:00pm. Showers, food, wifi and bed. What more could you want?
Some people deal with their emotional pain by cutting themselves, in the hope that a physical manifestation of their pain will make them feel better.
To those people I say, put away your razor blade, hop on your bike and follow me.
Today I volunteered as a chaperon for the Barlow Trail Century, called the "best one-day ride in Oregon" by...well, the people who put on the ride probably. It's a brutal ride that includes MUCH more climbing than the Boring Ride. If it's pain you're looking for, this is a good a way to find it as any, and better than most.
Three years ago this month, mom and I did the 40 mile option of the ride together, with her on my mountain bike. We completed the ride in four hours, which was pretty impressive considering the amount of climbing even in the shorter route. She was a real trouper. I thought it would be nice to ride it again and do the full century.
My team is sponsored by River City Bicycles who put on this event so we're expected to volunteer in some capacity anyway. Chaperoning just involves riding the course (you don't have to do the whole thing, but I wanted to) and being willing to stop and help anyone in need with repairs, directions, encouragement, rations etc.
I stopped at Finkos and printed out a picture of me and mom to tape to my seat bag. It just seemed appropriate.
I got started at 8:00am. The forecast called for rain and there was a light mist when I set out. Throughout the day the weather got more and more miserable and I wore every stitch of bike clothing I had brought and made a fine testing of my new Showers Pass rain jacket (it passed with flying colors).
I started later than most people so I was alone on the road for a long time and what people I did see were generally passing me in a double pace line. I did help one woman who had dropped her chain (she didn't really need the help, but it made me feel useful). The reality is, anyone who signs up for a hundred mile ride with 3500 ft elevation gain, is going to be a fairly experienced and self sufficient bunch.
Even the few injured people I encountered were already surrounded by scores of helpful, knowledgeable people who were taking care of everything. So that just left me to ride and think about being wet and cold and why was I out there and did I *really* want to ride the full 100 miles? I was starting to have doubts.
The website for the ride explained it this way:
Test your resolve like the pioneers before you, laboring up the flanks of the great mountain on this old historic Oregon Trail route. Be sure to look for the stunning views of Mt. Hood along the hearty 8.5-mile climb (average grade 8-10%). Crest the saddle at 3,500 feet and you'll find a stash of provisions nestled in the woods to fuel your ride home.
I was all for testing my resolve, but it looked like my grade was leaning somewhere in the direction of a B-/C+.
As soon as I left the first rest stop at 20 miles, the real climbing started. From then on I just settled into the new reality that my legs were going to hurt. They were soon followed by my knees. "Spinning" wasn't really an option when the grade tilted upwards so steeply it was all I could do to keep up enough momentum to stay upright.
Relief came in the form of a steep windy descent into the valley described as "Little Switzerland" (see above). When the road turned up again, it wasn't quite as steep so I was still able to make good time. Which was a good thing because me and my bladder were counting down the miles to the next rest stop at mile 41. Around mile 38.5, I gave up and went behind the nearest tree. Feeling much better, I rolled into rest stop two and was greeted by a lovely bonfire surrounded by chilled cyclists.
Up until that point, I had still been toying with the idea of heading all the way up to the top of Lolo Pass. But when one rider at the fireside who had just come down said, "I think it's hailing up there," any thoughts of adding insult to insanity faded into the mist. The thick blanket of clouds had wiped out any chance of the fabled amazing views. Without that carrot, I was having a hard time figuring out why I should spend another two hours, slogging up an 8-10% grade to a rest stop where the temperature was 10-15 degrees colder and there was no fire, followed by a chilly descent.
I think not.
I warmed myself up, traded knee warmers for full tights and set off back the way I had come, secure in the knowledge that I could drive back up the pass on a sunny day and enjoy the view.
The ride back included more company as I got passed by yet more burley racer guys and shared the road and some conversation with the occasional woman. Bree was asking about my new aero bars so I gave her a demo by leaving her in the dust on the next descent. I think she was impressed enough that she may be getting her own.
I felt better on the climbs coming out of the valley and Dodge park, even though my knees were protesting heavily by then. Near the end of the ride, I got to help one pour soul I found walking up the last major climb of the ride.
"Think about the burritos!" I yelled as I came even with him.
"There's burritos?"
"Yes, and they're from Laughing Planet and they're excellent."
That was enough to motivate him back onto the bike. He left me to catch his group but I saw him again a few mile later, coming the wrong way down the street after missing a turn. So I guided him in the right direction and then we stayed together through the last few turns back onto the Springwater Trail. The trail is nice and smooth in Gresham and the grade is tipped just downward enough for me to zip along comfortably at 18 mph. After a few minutes, my companion called up, "Hey, do you have a rope?"
I laughed. "Why, so I can pull you the rest of the way?"
"Yeah." I could tell from his voice that he was only half kidding. I knew the feeling. I'd wished for the same thing many times earlier in the day, watching guys with calves the size of my thighs whistling as they passed me.
I slowed down and then I asked if he'd run out of water.
"Yeah."
Well no wonder he couldn't keep up with me, even on a $12,000 demo bike that probably weighed as much as one of my pedals. I quickly gave him the rest of my water bottle which also had liquid nutrition added.
He cheered up after that. Then a few minutes later:
"Are we there yet?"
I looked up and thought I saw the sign for Cedarville park where the finish line was. "Yeah, I think we are actually." Together we blazed the last few meters to the finish line.
He headed off to turn in his bike and I took my bike to the car, changed as fast as I could and went to claim my well earned burrito, which was everything I had hoped and dreamed it would be for the last 40 miles. And the banana strawberry smoothie went down pretty tastily as well. I had to hand it to Rivercity for knowing the right way to feed depleted cyclists.
Final mileage was 82, which I completed in just over 8 hours and I'm feeling pretty darn happy with that.
Today we went on this completely misnamed ride from the book Rubber to the Road: 30 Rides Around Portland. Yes, it goes through the *town* of Boring (and how tired must they be of all the obvious jokes?) but the ride was one of the best we've done all year.
We got a late start and left out the door at 10am this morning, wearing exactly the same outfits. Same shoes (Specialized), socks (Pearl Izumi), shorts (She-Beast century), jersey (Shift2bikes.org), bra (Nike) gloves (Specialized) and helmets (Giro Havoc). I can't tell you how sorry I am that we couldn't make it to the Pedalpalooza Twin ride earlier this week! Yes, I know we need help.
This was our long ride that Jess really wanted to do to make sure she is ready for STP. And I would like to note, this route choice was her idea. That'll be important later. It's a good thing that today is the solstice because it literally took us ALL day to finish the ride, but we had a great time.
We left from our house in Kenton (near Lombard and Greeley) and took the Esplanade and the Springwater Corridor to Boring where the real fun began. We were out on the road for nine hours by the time all was said and done. We had a hard time making headway in the beginning due to my TBS (Tiny Bladder Syndrome). Something about cranking the peddles makes my bladder shrink to the size of a walnut. We made it to Sellwood and stopped at the Paint-A-Pot place for a nature break. When Jess came out I said, "OK, let's get going, we only have 15 minutes" (before I have to pee again).
I *meant* it to be a joke.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be all too accurate a prediction and the trip up the bumpy Springwater path to the next pit stop at Cedarville Park was miserable and silent. After getting relief and a snack, I was finally able to settle down. Guess I'll never make it as a stage racer!
This route gets really good once you go through Boring and enter the countryside on your way to Eagle Fern Park--which is also near Eagle Fern campground where I was a junior counselor for Outdoor school my senior year of high school, bringing a sense of nostalgia to the already beautiful terrain. When we reached the park, our odometers said exactly 40 miles, a perfect time to stop for lunch. PB&J always tastes best after 30 or 40 miles.
After that it was miles and miles and miles of climbing, up to the George Rd Loop. We pondered which direction would be best to circle, and then promptly chose the wrong way. So, if you're thinking of doing the ride, be sure to take the left on Clausen Rd and do the loop 'backwards.' The chip seal is a little smoother on George and the descending is more straightforward. Still, we were thrilled when we finally hit the halfway point and could point ourselves downward. Jess was lacking her two lowest gears due to a cog that needs replacing and she was keenly feeling the loss. I ended up pushing her up several hills during the day to keep up morale.
"Who's idea was this?" she asked in the middle of a particularly brutal stretch.
"Yours!" I said promptly. I love it when I'm not in trouble.
"Well, you agreed to it!"
So much for not being in trouble.
After about 4 miles of climbing up Tickle Creed Road, just when Jess was asking "When do we get to go down?!?" we finally did. I stopped to take a picture but told her to keep going. I didn't see again for another couple of miles as she took off down what turned out to be a descent of a mile or two.
While we are clearly distance riders out for the fun and the scenery and not speed, while reading the book "Training Techniques for Cyclists," I came across this passage:
When that country dog comes boiling out of it's yard, bent on mayhem, a quick acceleration is usually the best defense.
Fortunately, all the dogs who came out to greet us on this ride were safely behind stout looking fences...except at mile 67, cresting the last of the interminable hills, we heard ferocious, but high pitched barking and looked back to see a poodle about the size of Jess's cat, barreling down at full speed with murder in his eye.
I've actually been told that the best defense against a chasing dog is to NOT run (inciting the prey drive) but to get off your bike and put it between you and the dog. But in this case, such a tactic would've been too embarrassing to report later. The dog's legs were shorter then my pedal cranks, and I had some legs left, so I just turned up the gas and sped off, helpfully distracting him from Jess and giving her time to get up the rest of the hill. That little dog had surprising speed! But I eventually crossed the invisible turf boundary and by that time Jess was on the down side of the hill as well. It's like the universe gave us a little practice dog first, in case we run into something really big next time.
The rest of the trip was uneventful except for a short stretch of near death experiences on Hwy 211*. The book said that this area "hasn't received much attention from cyclists" and I can see why--it's pretty challenging! But if your legs are up for it, it's definitely worth the trip. Traffic is very slight once you get out of town. The few cars we did see passed respectfully for the most part (there's always a few that don't know how to share), but clearly didn't know what to think about crazy cyclists out in the middle of nowhere. Here's the conversation I imagine from the look on one driver's face who passed going the opposite direction:
"Honey did you see that? What they hell are bikers doing way out here!? I think those were girls too!"
The cows and the horses (there were plenty!) didn't seem too surprised to see us.
When we got back to Boring, we were pushing the 80 mile mark so we turned off the Springwater path at Eastman and went north a mile or so to the MAX station to get home. We stumbled triumphantly into our garage at 10:09pm, twelve hours, nine minutes after we left.
This ride was a great test of several things:
1) Are we ready for STP? Most definitely! 2) Jeff's mechanical prowess. I took our bikes to him after a disappointing shop tune up and he gave them back sparkling clean and shifting like buttah! 3) We both had fittings from Ward (a woman) at River City Bicycles and this was the first real world testing of the new set up. We both got shorter, higher stems which are serving very well, thank you. Other than adjusting our seats back to their original downward tip to keep our girl parts happy, things felt great. 4) New Koobi saddles, recommended by Zan, and purchased *as soon* as we got home from the Vernonia Ride a few weeks ago. I couldn't even sit on my cushy commuter saddle the day after that ride! Happy to report that the parts are MUCH happier now and I suspect, as the saddle molds to my shape, that things will only get better. 5) New aero-bars for me. Due to the low traffic and looooooong roads with no turn offs, I got to spend a lot of time in them, especially on the killer descent back to Eagle Fern park. SWEEEEEEEEEET! 6) Fueling strategies: We tried out several new brands and flavors of gels/bars/energy drink. The Hammer Perpetuem and the vanilla flavored Gu (the Hammer gels were not bad either) were the clear winners. Don't know about the nutritional value, but the emotional high of a tasty Costo poppyseed muffin bought from the Boring gas station is a great way to kill time on the MAX ride home.
Things we learned:
1) Bring more food next time 2) Refill water at the Boring gas station before riding off into the sunset 3) Speaking of sunsets, start earlier next time and possibly drive out to Gresham to start. Hills wear Jess out quickly (especially with two less climbing gears!). 4) Get a tandem. It's easier than pushing your girlfriend up the hills. :)
Oh yeah baby. You *know* you want to say that 10 times fast. Go ahead. Let your freak flag fly.
And when you're done, you can check out the pictures of the pedaling, pot lucky goodness on my flickr page.
It's pretty simple really. We meet, we ride, we eat. And in between, during or after, our ride leaders shares some usually interesting facts about the offbeat, out of the way area we've ended up in, which in this case would be Stanley "Park," a really weird grassy spot out in the middle of the airport/industrial area where there are no houses for miles around and really who'd want to hang out there anyway?
Usually that's all, but this time there was a bonus ride after dinner, to a little known part of the Columbia Slough trail which was very cool. And riding at night on the Marine Drive bike path while the sun set in front of us was the highlight of my week.
It was also the first time this year that I actually had fun at a bike fun event.
I've stumbled onto a fabulous training strategy for STP. It involves going on organized rides where we have little to no idea of the route or terrain we'll be covering, but the conditions are much harsher than anything we'll see at the event.
As part of that strategy, I registered us for the first annual Gorge Ride, a supported tour of a 20 mile stretch of restored Columbia Gorge Highway put on by the Friends of the Columbia Gorge. Their goal is to restore the entire highway so that you can bike from Troutdale to The Dalles without ever encountering Hwy 84.
It was the Gorge, so we could deduce that the route would probably involves some hills and oh yeah--there might be a little wind. But what the heck, it was only 40 miles, right?
We arrived at the start point at 8:30am, having driven ourselves out from under the clouds that clung over Portland. The sun was shining but it wasn't particularly warm at that time of the day and as soon as we got out the car, the wind hit us with steady force. At least we'd be going into it starting out and enjoy a nice tailwind on the return leg.
As first time organized rides go, I'd say this one was a success. The route was stunning, the cars few, and the rest stops, well placed and well stocked. The nicest stop by far was at the historic Meyerdale Estates, a huge house that's in the process of being restored. On a small patch of the expansive lawn, we enjoyed the usual rest stop snacks plus fresh cherries picked on the property that morning. Mmmmm.
The stop at Rowena Crest had a great view but exposed as it was to the wind, we stayed just long enough to use the facilities and take a couple of pictures.
Another highlight of the ride was the trail section that is closed to cars and goes through the restored Mosier Tunnels. The path is only a few years old and the road was buttery smooth. Best of all, the end of the trail marked the halfway point. From here on out, the wind would be on our side.
It was a much nicer return journey until we hit Rowena Crest again. The gusts were 30-40 mph and we were literally almost blown off the road by cross winds a few times! I've never cycled in such windy conditions and the concentration required was all consuming. The windy descent I'd been looking forward to since we climbed it that morning was more of a harrowing test of nerve with all the battering crosswinds changing every few seconds. I kept my hands on the brakes and didn't touch my new aero bars once. When it was over, I was more relieved than exhilarated.
The flat end to the route was lovely though and an ice-cream reward awaited us at the finish. As I walked into the Columbia Gorge Discovery center to use the bathroom, it suddenly hit me that I had thought about mom in hours. As far as I know, that's the first time it's happened. The thought was ruined by the fact that having the realization made me think about her again. Not that I want to forget her or anything, but it was nice not having that huge shadow hanging over me for a few hours. I suppose this is how it works...as time goes by, I'll be able to just live again and remembering her won't mean the risk of sliding down into dark tunnel of grief. Or so they tell me.
Riders could buy reduced entry into the center, and they were pretty fanatical about making sure folks paid up. We were questioned each time we entered to use the bathroom and we watched one worker chase another woman down when she strayed too far in in the wrong direction. Apparently they missed the memo that it's a historical center, not a rock concert and dubbed themselves the security detail. We found it pretty amusing.
We sat on the grass outside the and ate our lunches and talked to a nice older couple that we'd passed several times on the route and traded conversation, before heading home.
By the time we get to the mostly flat, comparatively windless STP, Jess will think it's a breeze.
When I was little, I dreamed of growing up so I could eat all the sugar cereals I wanted, eat as much of the mix as I pleased while baking and drink milk directly from the carton.
I got home from a really crappy day (more on that later) and after I showered and reconnected with my gf, I made emergency brownies. I like to get the family size and bake it in an 8 x 8 pan so that by the time I eat a bunch of the mix, it's probably about the same as if I'd bought the small batch anyway. :) While I spooned gooey chocolate goodness out of the mixing bowl, I alternated swigs from a carton of organic milk.
It's nice to know some things actually work out like you hope.
We got our supplies, including 8 fence posts, 13 2x4's, 102 6 ft x 5.5 inch slats, and 8 bags of 80lb concrete mix. The truck swallowed it all and said, "May I have some more please?" I know people think of me as a hard core biker, but I would not have wanted to carry that on the Xtracycle.
Our geological feature turned out not be in the town but on the road itself. The Sideling Hill road cut is just that...a big section of rock that was cut out to make room for the road. We stopped and took the bridge over the road to see both sides but unfortunately the information center was closed. Geology geeks can find more information 
We got back on the road and straight into the worst traffic jam I've ever seen. Three lanes of traffic and the only one moving was the one on the right and only because those people were headed towards the exit. We did see a group of six guys on motorcycles and they were all black, so of course we took pictures. Poor little deprived Oregon girls.
When the arch passed out of view and we crossed the Mississippi, still moving away, I spoke up.
But finally things are slowing down and I'm staying in one place for more than a day and today was the ultimate prize--a day of doing pretty much nothing. I did get up in the morning to run out for emergency craving groceries so I could have biscuits with fresh blackberries that we picked last week. 
After breakfast, we played some Chinese checkers. I don't play often, but I used to play with mom and Grammy when they tired of scrabble wars, or were willing to switch games to I'd have some tiny chance at winning. Jess hadn't played in years and needed a short refresher course. I helped her with her strategy and she improved quite a bit in just one game. I predict in another 4-5 games, she won't need me at all. 
