Home Page | Picture Gallery | E-mail Kevin & Cathy
Daily Journal - July 24th - August 1st
| Friday, July 24th, 1998 - Day 40 | |
Holiday Inn. A bed, AC, VH1, carry-out pizza, and a 6-pack of diet-coke. Nothing else to say. | |
| Saturday, July 25th, 1998 - Day 41 | |
Alarm went off way too early - 5:30am. We have a 6:15am shuttle and want to take a long shower - a real luxury in the morning. This Holiday Inn is a rip-off. We are paying for the privilege of being only a few miles from 28 roller coasters. The hills of Ohio are rollers enough for me. In the lobby we meet up with Steph and Duane. It appears our shuttle left early at 6:05am when it didn't see us. Unfortunately several hundred riders totally overwhelm the limited public and private transportation systems in these small towns. We page the shuttle and are told it will be 10 minutes. What really happens is that at every hotel, 10 riders jump on and commandeer the shuttle, canceling any scheduled stops. If your hotel is at the end of the route, you can kiss it goodbye. After waiting an hour, we are getting nervous - if we can't get back to claim our bikes by 8am we can't ride - they will be loaded on the bike-sag wagon. We call a taxi service as well to cover our bets. The taxi arrives first, but has to make an extra stop. They charge $5/head to go 3 miles - paramount to robbery. The smaller the city the more price gouging we see. They know they have us. We make it to camp just in time. It will be a late start today, but luckily it is a "short" day - only 77 miles. We start out without breakfast - something we never would have considered in the more remote states - but here we trust we will find some fast food (aka sausage biscuits - the new rider staple). We have to wait till mile 25 - but the hunt keeps your mind, and stomach occupied. At every stop we now talk about the ride to everyone around us. We aren't shy anymore, and we have heard all the questions. We are riding along Route 6 with views of Lake Erie. There are cabins, fishing shops, and small vacation homes for miles. As we reach the outskirts of Cleveland these move upscale to larger lakefront mansions, with occasional monster homes. We stopped at a classic city diner for a quick lunch. It oozed retro and attitude. I'm not sure we met the criteria for cool, but the chili was wonderful. Crossing into Cleveland we were amazed by the small neighborhoods we rode through - from Italian to Asian. The juxtaposition of rich and poor gives us pause as we move inland from the lake. We get lost downtown for a few minutes, but find our way back on the route. The Rock and Roll museum gives us a reason to stop, but we decide to just browse the lobby and gift store. No reason to spend $15 each with the limited time we have. On the road we pass through beautiful parks, university lands, and an arboretum. I have my daily spoke break. I try and ride it in, but have a flat within 2 miles. I have decided that I am rebuilding my back wheel one spoke at a time. At $1/spoke with free labor maybe this isn't such a bad deal. Cathy is tired - tired enough to accidentally run a red-light without realizing it early, so she decides to sag with me - assuming we can find the sag wagon on this busy thoroughfare. But after ½ hour, Fritz whizzes by, stops, and whips out a 700mm spoke, with a spoke tool. We work on the wheel, and are back on the road in 15 minutes, waving on the sag wagon as it approaches. Thanks Fritz. I vow to carry some spokes with me tomorrow, but keep forgetting to dig them out of my luggage, no small tasks if you have seen our gear bags. Five miles down the road a rider pulls alongside us who we don't recognize. It is not a big rider at all, but a local bicyclist out for a spin. We ask if there is a Starbucks anywhere - he says "follow me" - and we do - over hill and dale through Case Western University. Once again we leave the route - and worse yet we really don't know where we are going as we turn right and left, or with whom. But at the Starbucks we have a great sit-down with Eric, who is a university PhD researcher studying infectious disease - specifically, drug resistance and HIV. Eric is a transplant from McGill. He is interested in the ride. A colleague of his recently died in a car accident and her work was lung related. Eric thinks it would be a great way to remember her. As we finish our coffee, he suggests we let him give us the backroads tour out to the Polo grounds- our destination tonight. We ride through mansions and winding green trails on the eastside of Cleveland. We ride down steep hills through horse country. I am reminded of Bucks County PA - small towns, big houses, lots of woods in between. We introduce Eric to Steph - and it turns out they know many common researchers. Small world. Our truancy from the ride makes a relatively nondescript day into something worth remembering. Thanks Eric. It is a wonderful site - deep in a valley surrounded by steep hills and deciduous trees. The night is cool - for a Seattlites, it feels like Fall. Tonight at announcements there is long Q&A on closing ceremonies. The logistics are mind numbing. Getting our bikes home, our gear switched between the ride and the rest of our vacation, meeting up with friends and family, getting everyone to arrive at the same time on the ride into the Mall, and so on. We try not to think this far ahead - we have many hard miles to ride, and a mountain chain to cross. It is getting darker earlier. We are off to bed early. Tomorrow will be a truly easy day. | |
| Sunday, July 26th, 1998 - Day 42 | |
We are riding with Patty and Alison today. It is a short day, and they are kind enough to lower their pace a few mph. Everyone is in a great mood. Everyone sleeps in. The fog dampens the early morning noises and hangs heavy on our tents. I bring my extra spokes I found last night to breakfast to put on my bike, but somehow manage to lose them. The morning is cool, but the climbers wake us up early. We are in Volvo country. We are climbing out of the river valley. A quick stop at a 7-11 clone brings us some early morning caffeine in the form of Diet Coke. Slowly the terrain flattens out to smaller rollers, and we start looking for some lunch. It is Sunday - and all the locals are looking for lunch after services. We find a local spot. What a strange juxtaposition of biker clothing and people dressed in their Sunday best - but the diner takes us in with open arms. We sit next to an 81-year-old couple who have been married for 60 years. They are interested in the ride and ask lots of great questions. I have the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes special - great home cooking. They have soup. Leaving the parking lot, not even on my bike, we all hear the "PING" as I break another spoke. I am able to limp into pit 2 where I am able to get it switched. As we leave pit 2 we pass a number of Amish carriages on the road. There is a great selection of fruit and vegetables offered in stands along the road. I stop and talk to a man standing by the side of the road. I have started to just pull up and start conversations with people without invitation. His son is a rider, and he is waiting for him to come by. Amazing that the route actually goes by someone's house. We pass a huge brick house that is surrounded by a 10-foot iron fence - it stands out from the neighboring farmhouses. I am thinking the owners are seriously paranoid, when we see the sign above the entrance that this is Mike Tyson's house. Everyone is stopping for pictures at the gate. Later in the day we actually ride through a steel and coke plant on company property - mildly frightening as it reminds me of the years I spent working at Kodak. Pipes everywhere with whose knows what flowing through them. A homemade ice-cream shop attracts bikers 10 miles out of camp. We all stop. We arrive in Canfield early, just in time to watch the "Monster Truck" show wrapping up. We are sharing the fairgrounds with them tonight. Everyone is in a great mood - as we only have a handful of biking days left. I know at some point I will be reluctant to give up the biking life on the road - but right now, a real vacation on my schedule sounds totally inviting. At announcement tonight we go down the usual safety note litany. Today we had a dog bite bad enough to hospitalize someone. Tomorrow is a longer day. Off to sleep early. | |
| Monday, July 27th, 1998 - Day 43 | |
We get up early. It is nice to see it dark at 5pm again. It was hard sleeping out West when it didn't get dark until 10, and was light at 4:30am. Packing the dewy wet tent, we notice several hundred tiny slugs have found a new home on our tent and gear bag siding. Nice way to start the day picking them off. A great sunrise puts us in great spirits. There are no working pumps this morning - glad we bought a good one back in South Dakota. After 10 miles we meet Patty and Alison taking a soda/caffeine break and stop to chat. Today we have a couple of 1 to 2 mile climbs in the morning. The roads are steeper, and the shoulders are narrower - usually with sheer rock siding, or a drop-off to a water ditch. It is starting to look like mountains as we enter the foothills of the Alleghenies. The forests are lush. You can hear water flowing along the steep sides of the road. We pull over at another ice cream store. I get the "Monster Shake" for $4 - maybe not a good idea. The hit of the crowd is the fresh blackberry cobbler with vanilla ala mode. There is some serious downhill to reward our climbing. You can hit terminal velocity in just a few seconds. Reading the road as you fly down takes all your mental attention. It is amazing we stay on our bikes. Unfortunately not everyone does. We go ¼ mile out of our way to get a picture of the "Entering PA" sign. Down the road we roll into the heavy industry town of Midland on the river - just a few miles from the West Virginia border. It is a town built on steel - with a nuclear plant just down the river. Row homes line the narrow streets along the river. We jockey with big trucks for road space downtown. A local Italian restaurant - Rocca's - made pasta. We are hooked. The servings are huge. The wedding soup is brimming with fresh spinach, homemade pasta balls, and sausage. I desperately need a nap afterwards. There is a Lancelot theme - in the men's room the family coat of arms hangs. On a church down the street a tile mural depicts the life of Lancelot. The afternoon is a true truckfest. We are passed by 2 types of vehicles - large trucks or screaming college kids with large inflatable sharks or palm trees attached to their roofs. What gives? A stop at a local 7-11 provides some answers. A kid dressing in a hula skirt is buying wine coolers. There is a Jimmy Buffet concert tonight at the Pittsburgh outdoor amphitheater - and we are riding right past it. And trucks are being re-routed off the interstate onto our narrow state road because of construction. Oh joy. The road conditions are horrendous - the worst of the entire trip. With loose gravel, oil slicks, and drop offs. At one point Patty and Alison notice that Patty's tire is bulging from a rupture. They decide to sag. We push on, finally passing the concert location. It is a madhouse. Later down the road, a truck comes so close as to touch my mirror, and I am forced off the paved section of the road. I scream at Cathy ahead, who is also forced off. The trucks just don't care. At pit 3 we speak to the crew and find out 1 rider has been hit by a truck and fell on her jaw, and 2 other riders have bad falls. Not a pretty day. There will be some upset riders at announcements tonight. The last 15 miles takes forever, but we make it happen. Camp is at a fairground, with lumpy grass and gravel. We move away from our designated site - which is in the boonies away from our gear truck, and select a new location near Art and David. I didn't have ANY bike problems today - rejoice - maybe I have finally replaced all the weak spokes on my wheel. We will see. We fall asleep early, mentally exhausted from fighting the road all day. The hills are a pain, but trucks are much worse. I wake up to the white noise of a factory across the street, but fall back asleep. I have learned - through exhaustion - to sleep through about anything. | |
| Tuesday, July 28st, 1998 - Day 44 | |
It has been several weeks since we have done any real climbing - anything more than long rollers. Today we will cross the first of five ridges that contour SW to NE across western PA/MD into Western Virginia. A lot of the riders from PA are warning us that the Rockies, with their graded climbs and switchbacks were gentle compared to the unforgiving hills of the Alleghenies. I easily fall prey to these claims, as gravity is not by friend. Cathy and I have different approaches to this type of stress. I overreact, over-tbink, stare with dread at the elevation map, and wait for the worst - and am usually pleasantly surprised when the ride is wonderful. Cathy simply wants to get going, not think about it, and just pedal till we get there. Today is a long and hard day in terms of steep, and longer climbs - but we also ride some "rails to trails" for a substantial portion of the day. Trails can be a mixed blessing if they are not maintained well, or use larger gravel. There is also the issue of access for medical and sag vehicles. But the trails prove wonderful, with crushed limestone. You are always surprised by how high you climb without even noticing the 3% incline. Tonight we stay in Confluence, PA - a middle of nowhere, less-than-small town with "absolutely nothing to do" according to our scouts. Probably for the best - as Day 46 and Day 47 are rumored to be 2 of the hardest on the trip. Well, we have been training - haven't we? The morning route is beautiful, the skies are periwinkle-blue. After pit 1, we pick up some "hill fuel" at a McDonald's. The roads snake through woods along rushing streams. On one hairpin turn we pass 2 riders who went down in the curve, and are being attended to. We slow down and watch the gravel carefully. We pass through a beautiful town built along the hills - Charleroi, cross the Monongahela river, and follow the river South. The road is hewn from the mountainside - with river and train on the left, and sheer cliff on the right. A nice shoulder gives us some freedom to enjoy the morning ride. We ride with Adrian from ME for awhile. As usual, with tomorrow being a day off, and being in the last week of the journey, everyone is in a great space. Just before pit 2 in West Newton we stop for lunch - a small family run deli. Great BBQ chicken sandwiches. The bike trail follows the Youghiogheny River for several miles, then it is back to hill climbing. The next stretch of road shoots straight up a canyon for a couple of miles, and is one of the steeper sections we have ridden to date. I walk a ¼ mile to give my legs a rest. We cross the ridge with long rollers. Finally we descend the opposite side - winding down the other side to pit 3. There a festive party is in progress. We only have 16 miles of trail along the river. An ice cream truck has found a gold mine location, and must make refill trips to restock. After a long rest, we head off down the trail. It is reminiscent of the small trails that quilt the backroad farms of France. A canopy of deciduous trees let through thin rods of light - hitting the trail in dime-sized projections. The greenery is lush, with water flowing along the rocks. The river is wide, slow moving, and rocky. Occasionally we pass rafters. At the end of the trail, we are greeted by a staff member who informs us that there has been a miscalculation on the route map - a 0.1 should be a 10.0. A hard day just got harder - a century with climbing. People are not happy. I joke that we have finally found the mysterious missing 8 miles we gained in Idaho unexpectedly. We unfortunately have dawdled, knowing we have a day off. We decide that instead of riding in at 8pm, to look for a room in Ohiopyle - 15 miles short of Confluence - then ride the remainder tomorrow. Cathy watches the bikes, while I search for a room. There are a number of B&B's, but I can't find the proprietors. This town is shut down for the evening. Finally, after talking to some locals, I am able to find the owner of a small hotel and we secure the last room of the evening - we aren't the only ones with this idea. The downside of this decision is that we don't have any clothes other than what we have on, but we have gotten smart and taken a toothbrush and other personal items on our bikes. A local pizza store is a winner. We shower, wash our clothes, and watch the only channel that the TV receives - PBS special on an Antarctic expedition. I cut down the AC. We fall asleep easily, glad to be over the first hump of the Appalachians. | |
| Wednesday, July 29nd, 1998 - Day 45 | |
Today is the first day off we will actually ride our bikes. But it will be an easy ride along the trail. We sleep in. Late morning our stomachs pull us out of bed - we find a light breakfast at a country store, then hit the road. More trail. The sun is hitting from the opposite side than last night, giving us a chance to see more of the foliage. It must be stunning in Fall with colors, and Spring with wildflowers. Today we enjoy hundreds of variations in green. A deer crosses our path and stops to stare at us as we approach. My noisy hub clatter scares her off as we approach, bounding straight up the mountainside. We complete the trail, and come to Confluence. Camp is 4 miles outside of "town", so we decide to look around before heading there. In town there is a Riverside B&B that is serving lunch on a wraparound porch overlooking the river. We decide to stop for lunch. We find a culinary treat. Sweet potato cream soup is delicious. This B&B was booked 6 months in advance by future-thinking riders. We linger, sip a glass of Merlot, write postcards, and watch the swan vs. duck naval battles in the river, as they bob down the rapids. Finally we ride to camp - Turkeyfoot Valley Area School. Thankfully for these high school kids their mascot is not a turkey, but a ram. At camp, some entrepreneur riders are cleaning bikes and chains, and truing wheels for $10. Can't pass that up. It is hot and sticky. We setup the tent just in time to get shelter from the first of several afternoon showers that pass through the mountains. The next 3 days route and hill maps are posted. Ouch. The next 2 days look incredibly hard. Our legs are already hurting a bit from yesterday's climbs. We need to get some rest before tomorrow. I work on the journal and pictures most of the afternoon. We do our laundry together by hand, but unfortunately it will never dry in this weather. Few things are more miserable that riding in wet lycra pants - speaking with some experience now. Our campsite is again off the grid - we are enjoying our newly found non-lemming behavior. We are near some train tracks that prove to be active, as a train rumbles by loudly enough to cover your ears. A local band provides rock and roll cover songs tonight. They aren't bad, although they give Cathy traumatic junior-high school dance flashbacks. Good enough that they have an entourage of groupies that have wandered into camp over the train tracks to attend the concert. A pickup truck is selling beer across the tracks as well. We have dinner and enjoy the 70's and 80's flashbacks. Some riders who were old enough to attend Woodstock gave us a history lesson in dancing. Cathy and I spent some time talking with Matt and Amy, and then retire early. Falling asleep was hard because local kids kept wandering through tent city talking. I suppose it would be strange to drive by your old high school and find 700 tents. We fall asleep in anticipation of some serious climbing tomorrow. | |
| Thursday, July 30th, 1998 - Day 46 | |
Today we climb over 2 more ridges - with 5000' of climbing, and cross into our final state - Maryland. The elevation graph shows 2 whopper descents, the first just before pit 1, and then a drop from 3300' to 700' starting at mile 52. The morning starts with a long steep 5-mile climb. We were warned to digest our food well before departing. It was a good warm-up climb for a long day. The outer layers came off early in the cooler air. The drop into pit 1 was amazingly steep, twisting down the valley to the river. The pit was at the trailhead to the Allegheny Highlands Trail, which we followed for about 10 miles, riding with Randy from CA - who is a teacher in a small town. We disembarked at Garret, crossed the Casselman River, and find a gas station/grocery store overtaken by bikers. An elderly woman sits by the window watching the mayhem, and comments to everyone who enters that we remind her of the "hobo club" from her youth. After some discussions we discover this has more to do with our dress than our homelessness. The hot item is fresh BLT sandwiches that the proprietor is cooking up by the dozens. There is now a whole legion of bikers who simply skip breakfast, in search of real food in the morning. We are in the smaller minority that eat both. Two kids race the bikers down the road, and are disappointed to find we aren't actually racing. Cathy and I have been told too many times by observers that we "are way behind" the leaders. Sometimes it just takes too much time to explain we just hope to get there in one piece. We climb several more steep multi-mile sections, including Big Savage Mountain (I can image why they call it that). We find lunch at a small pizza dive - hot baked open sandwiches. Eclectic Aaron arrives in his inner tube he found by the side of the road a few days back. He has decided to ride the remainder of the trip with this bulky thing around his waist. The waitress can't decide if he is crazy. We pedal on fueled by lunch and diet coke. Finally we cross the Mason Dixon Line into our 12th state - Maryland. The Maryland ALA is handing out cold water and candy, and welcome us. There is much rejoicing - we know we are closing in on D.C. now. Looking at a map later I am amazed by how far the MD finger of land stretches west. We are in the West Virginia mountains as much as we are MD - just a stone's throw away. Cathy has gotten ahead of me on some of the climbs, but I am able to make up some time as we start the huge descent. In Frostburg I see her bike outside a downtown café, and stop. She is just finishing a real chocolate malt. We sit with Laurie and Marilyn. The waitresses smack gum in their pink smocks - we are in another time warp. Two malts later - each - we waddle out, and begin the remainder of our descent. We are almost done with a hard day. Unfortunately there is an urban ride through Cumberland as we descend through the Gap, and a short but hard climb into camp. The streets of Cumberland are narrow, laid out hundreds of years ago. The gap is S-shaped, with the wind direction changing each time we swing around a long curve. Camp is at the Rocky Gap State Park on a hillside overlooking a beautiful lake. It starts to rain before we arrive around 6:30pm. We setup our tent in the rain. We are tired but ecstatic to have completed a hard day. You can smell the mountain air. Dinner is particularly good - stir fried beef with vegetables. I believe dinner is enhanced anytime we complete a long ride, and it is raining. Tonight we have a rider talent show. Everyone huddles in the rain under the State Park shelter to listen to musical renditions, skits, and songs written by riders on the road. It is a hoot. One of the best acts is a send-off of Red Riding Hood - the tale of a wayward scooter trash biker who disobeys all the safety rules only to find himself lost in the mountains at the mercy of a hungry farmer. Another rider gives a great re-interpretation of "Camp Granada" aka "Hello Mother, Hello Father" as "Camp Pallota" - it brings the audience to their feet. Pat - the 64 year-old cello-man, who has hauled a cello across the country behind his bike, learning to play as he goes, giving concerts in graveyards, gives us an interpretation of "Twinkle Twinkle". He is an inspiration to everyone with his kind words and persistence, and receives a standing ovation - not for his cello skills, but for just being a great human being. We set the alarm for a ½ hour earlier than usual, as tomorrow could be our hardest day. We sleep soundly in the cold mountain air. | |
| Friday, July 31st, 1998 - Day 47 | |
Today we finish the Appalachians. It is an 80+ mile day with several long steep climbs, and rollers the rest of the day. The elevation map looks like a series of Stalagmites hanging off the page. I talked to someone with an altimeter a few days back who says we have done over 105,000' of climbing thus far. We will probably do 120,000' feet for the entire journey. It rained all night, but fortunately cleared up a bit in the morning. It is cool and fog covers the lake and hills. We are jazzed to get to D.C. and get over the hills. Cathy and I decide to separate early on. With the 8000' or so of climbing we will do today, if she waits for me she will just cool down at the top of each section, and tire out by the end of the day. Plus there are chores that need to be done tonight to get ready for D.C. - bike shipping paperwork and such. Better to have one of us arrive early. The early morning climbs are in cool air - almost refreshing to be climbing. Some of the better or crazier bikers attack the mountains with gusto - going all out. Other like myself attach them one revolution at a time. But the roads are clear of cars, and the roadside forests are filled with interesting distractions. I hear a wild turkey. The wind comes and goes, and each time droplets are loosed from the trees above giving the impression of a rain shower. I miss an indecisive rabbit darting across the road by only inches. Cathy tells me later that she has the same experience with a squirrel. Roadkill and intelligence are highly correlated. By late morning I have finished the worst of the climbing. The hills are not as bad as I had expected, I never walk - just occasional stops to catch my breath. I guess the last 40-some odd days of training have paid off. The weather helped greatly. Hot and muggy weather would have made for a miserable day. The last climb is on a wide shoulder, with limited traffic, and is rewarded with a steep 3.5 mile decent of over 1000' feet to the town of Hancock. The road down is great for many reasons - first you know you have finished the last big climb of the whole crossing, and second the roads are in good shape. Three of us open up the throttle and take it full speed the whole way down - over 50mph. In Hancock I start looking for lunch, and possibly Cathy's bike - but she has shot out well ahead of me. A local diner is filled with bikers, and I am able to catch a stool at the counter. Dennis from New Hampshire joins me for lunch. The crabcakes are marvelous - large chunks of Maryland crab with delicate seasoning, just enough filler to bind, and not overcooked - still moist. The wait staff thinks I am crazy for taking a picture for proof that we have entered Maryland. The coconut pie beckons me. Unfortunately it is a cash only restaurant and I have no cash, but I am in good company and borrow a $20 from Dennis. I accidentally leave my route map on the counter as I leave, but decide to head down the road without it - too lazy to walk back in. This is a bad idea. Three miles down the road without seeing a single route marker signs yet, which is not unusual on straight stretches, I dead-end at the entrance ramp to a major highway. As I start to backup (uphill of course), a proprietor of a local fruit market yells at me that I am lost. I yell back "no kidding". He tells me the route went right along the trail miles back, but that I can catch the trail behind his business without having to backtrack. He leads me around back, points to a short path through the woods that leads to the bike trail, and wishes me the best. On the trail I travel 3 miles before I finally catch up with someone to reassure me I am not still lost. It is one thing to get lost - it is another thing to get lost with hills everywhere - you don't want to do much wandering - just ask Rob Kelley about his journey into Madison. The day winds on. The fast riders have hit camp hours earlier. It turns mall-ish as we approach Frederick, with the last 5 miles being particularly urban. David from NYC and I ride in together having fun calling out the various objects we see on the way - "poodle on the right". When we arrive it is clear that many of the DC area family have decided not to wait until tomorrow to reunite with riders, and have traveled out to Frederick. It is a zoo. It is the last night together. It is the last night I will sleep in this tent for a long long time if I can help it. Cathy is kind enough to have the tent already set up. The announcements are early at 7pm and prepare us for the ride into D.C. tomorrow. CNN and several local DC channels will have a news team there to cover the ride in. It hits home that we really are on the last leg of a arduous and exhilarating journey. Everyone wants to get on with their lives, but no one wants the fun to end. I spend some time trying to find a phone to update the website, but once again can't find a working line. It will have to wait until tomorrow. Coming back from the search walking through the now dark camp I step in a 8" deep hole and go sprawling, hurling the laptop and accessories 10 feet ahead. This is a great test of the foam containers I made - luckily they protected everything, and I'm not hurt. Would hate to sprain an ankle the night before we finish. Good-byes have started. The OK Cascade crew is wrapping up their great work keeping us fed and clean. Tomorrow is an easy rolling ride into D.C. We get to sleep later than usual - but who cares - only 52 miles to go. We sleep wonderfully - it is cool and not humid, a real treat for the D.C. area in summer. | |
| Saturday, August 1st, 1998 - Day 48 (Final Day) | |
There is great rejoicing by all as the tents are taken down for the last time. Someone woke up a 4:30am and starts their packing - who are these early birds? An air horn is sounded repeatedly by someone at the more reasonable hour of 5:30am. We pack the luggage without regard to order - just jam it in and get on the road. Breakfast has REAL eggs - fried - now this is a treat. Smiling faces are everywhere. People are signing t-shirts, exchanging addresses. Patty, Alison, Cath and I ride together this morning - Team Turtle is going to have a hard time getting too far behind, as we will all congregate at a holding area on the Mall at 2:30. We follow route 28 most of the way into D.C., then Connecticut Avenue - right through the beltway, Bethesda, Chevy Chase, and then onto the Mall near the Lincoln Memorial. The ride in is rolling hills following streams and valleys. Once we reach the beltway, the route becomes urban, with continuous right lane traffic. Some bikers start to cluster to take up the whole lane as a safety precaution. At pit 1 a Jack Russell Terrier is chasing soap bubbles with a passion, jumping into the air and knocking into people in a dog-frenzy. Costumes are in full force - capes, masks, props - sometimes just to express oneself, other times to help family and friends pick you out from the crowd of bikers as we arrive. There is a carnival atmosphere. We find some lunch at a Cantonese restaurant outside of pit 2 only 15 miles from the Mall. Six miles out we pass a Starbucks - can't just ride by - have to stop. This concludes our Starbucks-Tour - with stops in Kenniwick, Madison, Cleveland, Chicago, and finally D.C. - hope we didn't miss any. I also break a spoke just 5 miles out - how apropos. There are screams as we reach the Mall. There is chaos as we put out bikes aside and wait out the next hour before the final mile ride down the mall. Everyone is given a long sleeve shirt in either red, white, or blue. I take my bike to get the spoke fixed - more out of habit than necessity, and to say goodbye one last time to my good friends at bike tech. There I see a wheel that has been crushed. One rider was hit by a car from behind, and luckily only knocked to the ground with minor abrasions. The bike was less fortunate. Cathy and I are once again grateful that we managed to stay upright on our bikes for 3400 miles. We only have 1 mile to go to maintain our zero batting average. After many false starts we finally begin the ride in. Much like our ride out of Seattle, we are amazed by how much room 700 bikes actually take up when riding together. We ride along the reflecting pool path, past the Washington Memorial, then left into the reception area. We are cheered by thousands of family and onlookers. Cathy hears our friend Jack yelling "Phaupsly". The music from Riverdance booms from the speakers. It is so strange to actually get off your bike one last time on this wonderful journey. Water bottles are used to douse everyone within striking distance. Bikes are lifted over one's head. It is time to celebrate. Short speeches of congratulations are made by several dignitaries, sponsors, and ALA officials, then all too soon it is all over. We find our friends Jack and Juanita with their infant son Drew (aka Spud) who have brought snacks and Champagne. Time for a toast. After an hour of celebration, we finally must complete the last drudge tasks - shipping the bikes home, and picking up our stinking gear bags. It will take days to reflect on exactly what this journey has meant to us, how we have grown, what we have learned - but for now it is time to find a real hotel, a real bath, some real food, a real bed, and a place we can burn our laundry. Thanks one last time to our many generous sponsors who helped Cathy and I raise 100K for ALA, our fellow riders and crew who made this journey an adventure, Lisa and Megan for holding down the fort in our absence, and our family and friends both new and old across the country who encouraged us along the way. It was worth it. | |
Previous Journal Entry