Thursday, June 30, 2011

Reflections from a Kansas experience.







In order to convey our full Kansas experience, I think it's necessary to begin with a general recap of our route and activities. First and foremost, a huge thanks to Katrina for reading this blog, and offering up her mother, Becky's pleasant abode in Fowler, Kansas. We were greeted with remarkable hospitality by both ladies, and their relentless care for our welfare lasted well beyond our departure after two nights of rest.

Once across the Rocky Mountains we enjoyed a steadily graded descent into the eastern Colorado plains. As the elevation flattens out, the rolling hills spread into wide open fields of grassland, corn, and the occasional variety crop. At that point east, Colorado starts to live up to the Kansas reputation of endless flatness. By the time we reached the Colorado/Kansas border, we found ourselves thinking the sign may have been relocated a hundred miles east of it's true placement. The distinguishing difference between the two states is the Arkansas River. If there's water in it, you're still in Colorado.

By the end of our second day in Kansas, we reached Becky's house in Fowler. While in Fowler for a rest day, the five of us drove north to Dodge City for a tour of the Boot Hill museum. There we learned much about the relationships and deals formed between the Native Americans and the white folk; how Dodge City was shaped by the early American cattle industry; and how entirely ruthless the hard men and women of the wild west were.

Based on sound advice from Becky, we steered south along highway 160, and eventually 166 which runs three miles north of, and parallel to the border of Oklahoma. With help, we managed to find safe camping havens in city parks from Fowler to Missouri. More often then not, these parks were situated along the banks of man made reservoirs, with opportunities for swimming. The availability of these camp sites made our sleep experience in Kansas very pleasant (most nights); without them, we would have had to resort to less comfortable measures.

Generally speaking--with the exception of the first day in Kansas--we rode against crosswinds and headwinds the entire state. The worst two days pinned us against 20+ mph gusts. When the land is as flat as it is, and the roads are as straight as they are, fighting these winds can feel worse than 10,000 feet of climbing, over the course of one day. As you grit your teeth while trying to hold a steady line, you can look ahead into the abyss of treeless horizon and realize, this will last all day. Even though the natives coined Kansas, "Kansa, land of the south wind," we experienced steady airflow from all directions; but never the west--except for the first day. We also experienced high temperatures reaching up to 111F.

From central southern Kansas east, trees and other green vegetation begin to slowly creep into the scenery. By the Missouri border, the straight highway gradually rolls along with defined tree lines and rich grassy fields. Eastern Kansas was quite a pleasant surprise.

Although those in and from Kansas seem to doubt the possibility that anything remotely interesting exists in the state; we found ourselves deep in thought about topics surrounding this region. The semi-monotonous landscape and straight roads served as a meditative background to consider the dynamics of cattle, wheat, and corn in this area, of which our diets depend on. We also found ourselves amazed by the various people we interacted with; all of which provided awe and encouragement in our adventure. Regardless of this country's troubled food system, of which blame is often wrongly placed on these people; Kansas is full of friendly, interesting, and hard working people who love this country as much as anyone else.

Go there, see the history, meet the people, smell the condensed bovine existence, tell me it's healthy.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Land of the south wind.








Everyone warned us about Kansas, mentioning only the monotonous terrain we would prolong by traveling through on bicycles. In terms of stimulating landscape they were right, but Kansas has not been lacking stimulation to say the very least. I have much to share and elaborate, but for now, just the usual photos. More later.

Three more days until Joplin, Missouri.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

23 hours 58 minutes and 42.002234249 seconds.







On summer solstice, the day with the most hours of sunlight, or "the longest day of the year" we enjoyed the furthest distance in one day of our trip. Welcome, summer.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Saleeda, Salida,





Just on the east side of Monarch Pass is a town called Salida. We decided to make the town our temporary home for two nights while we rested our legs after the big pull up to our nation's natural separation. Much to our surprise, the very weekend we made our stop, the FIBArK Whitewater Festival was also taking place in the historic old town Salida. In fact, we would have never noticed had we not decided to visit a bike shop for supplies on our day of rest. Since we did notice, we strolled around, had some delicious beers, and watched the festivities. Among the many kayak and rafting competitions, the most entertaining was the hooligan race; a competition of creative raft building, speed, and most important, survival. The winner was a vessel titled "natural disaster" which was ultimately a whitewater flotilla complete with a burning tree.

As far as we can tell, Salida will be our last chance to take advantage of free camping on our public lands. In the coming stretch of the country, we will see less BLM land, shorter but steeper hills, and more agriculture. For us, the increase in fertile land means we will have to be more creative and more inquisitive when searching for our nightly tent sites.

Eastern Colorado, Kansas, and the Midwest are unexplored places for all three of us travelers. It is also where I think we will start noticing significant differences in the people, culture, and scenery. Until this point, we have seen a variety of different geological formations and terrain, but the general population is not much different than those in the pacific northwest. Moving east, we will be sharing the road with the corn farming communities of America, who feed our country (hogs, cattle, and people), believe conservatively, and live rurally. Of course, these are the preconceptions I've set out to explore.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Rockies: tapped.






That John Denver was not full of shit. The Rockies are rocky, mountainous, and high.

We finally reached the great divide, which means we are now watching water flow east to the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico, much like ourselves for the next month and a half--at least in terms of moving east. From Gunnison, highway 50 winds east up a valley before making a sudden increase in grade, which continues for a little more than 7 miles before reaching the summit at Monarch Pass. The average grade for this pass is a mere 6.5%, but pushing roughly 100 pounds of bike at such high altitudes made even the strongest of us feel drained by the top. As we reached the last mile, a few shouts of encouragement from passing cars helped feed adrenaline into the voids of our muscles. Once upon the summit, wet with sweat and shivering in the cold bursts of wind, we answered the gamut of questions ranging from our psychological wellbeing to where we would be heading next. No, we do not have mental health issues, we will be going down next, and no thanks, I brought my own beer.

Our interactions with people at the summit were encouraging to my general feeling about sharing the road. Typically, we don't interact with many motorists because of the physical separation between car windows and speed. So talking to people who've passed us, and hearing their excitement for our journey leaves a positive taste in my mouth for coexistence.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Leaving the red rocks in a red state.








Utah was and is amazing. Words cannot describe it's beauty. Whether riding on the road through the scenic canyons, or some single track on the rim of a canyon; an unforgettable experience awaits. Unfortunately, as in life and on this trip; all good things must come to an end. To find new rewarding experiences, we must vacate the old.

We have now traversed the Colorado/Utah border, exchanging radiant red sandstone cliffs and sage filled valley floors for dark brown "rocky" peaks and lush green hillsides. Traveling at the slow pace of a bicycle, most things tend to transition slowly; from suburban to rural, valley floor to mountain top, hot to cold. What hasn't ceased to amaze, in our cut east, is how defined the state lines are. Quite literally from Nevada to Utah we left the cold high desert and entered the shade of warm sandstone. The temperature change alone was so distinct; it felt as if spring turned to summer in the breadth of one corner. The same immediate transition struck again at the western edge of Colorado. We rode from the set of a dusty, hot western film with red mesas and wide valleys into the set from The Sound of Music--if remade in the USA.

The distinct geographical transitions separating these states provide rhyme and reason to otherwise rudimentary borders seen on a map. It's satisfying to observe first hand that our early congress had at least some systematic ways of making their decisions.

To commemorate our change in scenery, we strayed from the usual oatmeal and indulged in a breakfast of bacon, potatoes, and eggs.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Convertible.

Converted.

Fellow travelers.

We've recently encountered two different couples touring the country by bicycle, seeking the same experiences as we three travelers.

Pavei.

Ride and explore.

Update: One more.

David Palmer.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Moab sick rock.











For the first time since Truckee, we spent three nights under the shelter of a roof in Moab. We didn't, however, rest. Instead we rented mountain bikes and enjoyed a taste of the infamous trails available. Friday morning we three travelers joined Dan's aunt and uncle, Andrea and Grant, for a ride over the slick rock. Friday evening, as our hosts rested, we went for an evening spin up the Amasa Back Trail. Then for the grande finale, Saturday morning we took the Coyote Shuttle up to the Hazard County trailhead to ride most of "the whole enchilada." The mountain biking in Moab has much to offer, and we only scratched the surface.

It's now time for us to end our extended journey through beautiful Utah, say goodbye to the sandstone, and begin cutting true east through Colorado and Kansas along the trans-America bike route. We expect Colorado and Kansas to move by quickly, and are hoping Missouri won't be too hot, too muggy, or too hilly. I'm excited to cross the great divide, and am looking forward to the cultural changes we are facing as we near the Midwest.

A special thanks to Andrea and Grant for feeding us and sharing their cool and spacious rental for their extended weekend vacation.

"There are no losers in ice cream racing."

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Look closer, you'll see the road.












As we cycle our way around this country, we may or may not stick with our original or periodically proposed plans.  The beauty of it is; we have the freedom to change course, for whatever reason, at whatever time.  Nonetheless, we continually look ahead to meet the occasional deadline, weigh our options, and maintain a sufficient pace to return to the west by fall.  

A few recent experiences have made this topic relevant for we three travelers.  I'd like to divulge a few examples, starting with a section of road beginning around milepost 70 on highway 12 in Utah.  At this milepost, heading east, we rode arguably the funnest, most beautiful descent of the trip.  Looking closely at the first picture, it is possible to see the final few corners, as well as the shelf on which the road traverses the canyon.  After our last cycle specific map became obsolete in Cedar City, Utah, we have been riding along from day to day, generally without much mind to the electronic contour maps available.  Instead, we make note of summit marks on the map, then ask the locals about their perception of our intended route.  Since most people are not on bicycles, we have found interesting interpretations of the land.  Our experiences have been sometimes easier, sometimes more difficult, but always an adventure.

Once we coasted back down to the usual pace, our elation wore off quickly as we approached the steepest ascent of our trip thus far, 14%.  Due to the hilly nature of this particular stretch of highway, the 20 miles we rode into Boulder that day turned out to be enough.  Boulder, Utah is a town of about 200 residents, and happened to be having a pizza night at the mini mart, equipped with a wood fired oven.  And since we decided to stay put after only 20 miles, we happened to make some phone calls, which happened to change our immediate bearings, which finally resulted in us changing our route to the east coast entirely; all within the span of a few hours.

As we sat at the mini mart determining our new fate, we were simultaneously socializing with the people of one of the most interesting and unexpected towns on our tour.  Right smack in the middle of southern Utah exists a Mecca of instrument playing, patchouli smelling artisans of all walks and beliefs who've settled in to form a unique community.  While we enjoyed our pizza and 3.2% beer--if at all possible--people began showing up for the pizza, but brought their own home brew; a sign that this place is not the typical Utah community.  Boulder, they claim, is easy to get stuck when you're just passing through.

Back on the road after an uncommon breakfast splurge at the local and delicious cafe, we began our trip down the Burr Trail through Capital Reef and into Glen Canyon; or at least what was Glen Canyon until the 1960's.  John Wesley Powell must be rolling in his grave.  The Burr Trail is paved with the exception of a fourteen mile stretch of gravel and graded sand beginning at the entrance to Capitol Reef.  The steep section of switchbacks were very exciting; the remaining 9 miles of washboard and loose gravel were not.  All told, we were glad to have learned of this scenic and challenging route.

As planned, we took a rest day swimming in Lake (reservoir?) Powell before catching the Hall Ferry across.  We then began our route east, then north to reach Moab for a few days of rest and mountain biking.  

Plain and simple; Utah has been one of those places with too much entertainment to leave, so we've stayed a bit longer than expected.