Home Stretch

When we started bike49 last May we would have been overwhelmed to think about the entire route. Instead we focused on more obtainable, short term goals.  Our first goal was getting to Coos Bay, OR for our first presentation.  The next goal was Alaska, and after that, we focused on making it back to the United States.  When we left Sacramento last week our goal was to make it to Fort Bragg, a familiar bike touring layover for the five of us.  And now, two days from Arcata, our final goal is Arcata. This is the home stretch, and it is good to be home.

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Taking the Misty Dugway Home

It was the evening of June 9th where we really started to chime in about this being our last night of camping, last meal cooked, last time to cook with our beat up pots and pans, and so on. It was also the last night of having to search for a spot to camp and weigh the option of knocking on someone’s door or just going ahead and camping in a field, the benefits of being plainly visible versus those of trying to hide ourselves. Throughout our trip we’ve always done our best to be straight forward with people when there’s no public land so we started by trying to knock on some doors.

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Utah

I must skip back a few dozen pages in my spiral notebook to the red rock deserts of Utah. We have neglected writing about the desert, not because we had nothing to say on the subject, but because recounting the hundreds of miles of beautiful places we have seen is kinda overwhelming.  Where do you start?  How about a few unorganized sentences and pictures to match :

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The (con?) Man

This story is about a man we met shrouded in suspicion and mystery; we’ve spent days discussing the facts, a source of curiosity. We’ve been told to watch for strangers but on a trip like this, you talk to people you don’t know or else the experience you would miss.

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The Wind Blows

It feels almost religious as I crawl along the shoulder of the road. I am bent over the handlebars, like a follower praying to the wind and the road.  I tuck into my bike, trying to make myself more invisible to the wind, and it feels like I am on a pilgrimage to some distant horizon at a sorry speed of six mph. 

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Our Day at Delaware Ridge

Our day to visit Delaware Ridge Elementary finally came and like most anticipated events – Christmas, New Years’, your birthday – was gone all too quickly. For weeks and months we’ve looked forward to spending a day with these students and when it was over, it felt like the culmination of the more than 100 presentations we’ve done before this.

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Biking Home

So there I was, back in high school, doing what scared me most in high school: standing up in front of the class and giving a speech.  Only this time, standing in front of a familiar classroom, talking to one of my favorite teachers and 20 high school students, I wasn’t scared.  I was excited. 

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The Katy Trail

Something isn’t right.  I haven’t held my breath as a car charges by, I haven’t heard or said “car back” today, and not one car has gunned it on an I-can’t-believe-you-are-passing-me-right-now-double-yellow-blind corner.  It is quiet without the passing cars, and we can ride side by side and search for a story or idea we have not yet told.

Well maybe I should say: something IS right.

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Lightning Strikes Missouri's High Point

Lightning strikes and something dies. That must be how it works. Each bolt has a target, a seek and destroy mission, and with each tent illuminating flash and ground shaking rumble, one site is crossed off the list. I’m on that list for sure. It’s just a matter of honing in, dropping a strike here or there like in Battleship and narrowing down the possibilities. I squeeze my hands between my legs. I flinch and cringe with each flash of light, but then amazingly fall asleep through it all.

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Arkansas

hough not as dramatic as the mountains of the west, these rolling forests make for fantastic biking.  After months on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts, where the ocean is beautiful but the land is flat, we were all happy to add some variety to our daily riding.  For me the hills break up the day. 

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The Streets Are For People

We have been in New Orleans for two days now, and it occurred to me when I was on the trolley tonight headed home from Rue Bourbon that I had not answered any bike49 questions in two days.  We are staying with Aaron and Tommy’s, mom’s, friend’s, brother’s, daughter’s place, and our bikes are locked up in the shed, making us blend in with the crowds.

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Gear Heads

Most of us aren’t gear heads. Once something works, we’re happy. We don’t care what else comes on the market and weighs a few ounces less or won backpacker magazine editor’s choice. I admit, I do tend to think about gear a bit, especially what might break next, and that’s probably why I’m the one compelled to write about it.

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Phew...This Blog Covers A Lot

It has been a humbling month of biking.  We fought the cold weather of the Appalachian mountains, and survived thanks to the help of friendly strangers inviting us into their homes. Since we left Washington DC we have seen our coldest temperatures, including a morning of biking in 3 degree weather and a night of camping in the teens.  In the same month we have stayed with 16 different families.  Southern hospitality is not an exaggeration!

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Eight Crazy Nights

The last week on the road has been anything but typical. Actually, there hasn’t been a typical week of bike touring, and even though we’ve said it enough to sound cliché, the saying, “you never know what to expect [when bike touring]” holds true on this trip.

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A Chance To Be Heard

“Look over there” Sara shouts, I turn my head just in time to catch a glimpse of the White House and a couple of its rooftop sentinels through a space between two buildings. We continue on down 17th Ave. and the Washington Monument appears on the horizon.

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