Bike Trip Reunion-The Things (Critters, and Plants, and Some other Stuff)

Ok, this is the last post of bike trip reunion of pictures.  Forgive me.  Here we have the Cow Whisperer.  The first day we were all together we lost two of the people during a hike.  We searched for them for an hour and a half.  We didn't find them but we found a herd of cattle.

They look somewhat annoyed with the paparazzi.

Whereas this elk looks either perplexed or as if he's trying to give that typical senior class photo head angle where the photographer makes it feel like he's going to snap your neck.  I promise I did not touch the elk.

During his sitting he wanted to make sure I got his good side.  "Here make sure you get a majestic shot, ok?"

He soon lost interest in the whole process and needed a snack.

I dunno what this is other than potential elk salad buffet fixings but it was pretty.

I had to look up this bird online.  I think it's a Clark's Nutcracker. With a name like that I had the unsophisticated thought of a character from a National Lampoon Vacation movie having an unfortunate encounter with this critter.

Look, Hilary!  Not only did I capture a bird but I also captured a chipmunk!  Not easy with all the scampering for seeds and such.

Mr. Lime on top of the world during the hike in Rocky Mountain National Park.  He was excited to set a personal record in terms of altitude reached.  I still hold the family record since I have been to the airport in La Paz, Bolivia (13,323 ft) but Mr. Lime holds the family record for insane activity.  He decided to run the last half mile of the hike.  I moved uphill at a pace that could be characterized as "gasping plod."  Once the path leveled out I resumed the more dignified and non-gasping saunter.

The marker where Mr. Lime stood at 12,304 ft above sea level.

At saunter pace I could enjoy not only the grand vistas from the previous post but the tiny gems among the alpine tundra.  I have no idea what any of these plants are but they intrigued me.

Our hosts/guides told me these were closed up after the peak of blooming earlier in the summer.  they were still kind of translucent even closed up like this.

Even though it was early August it's more or less the end of summer at this altitude. Most things were looking a bit dry though there was lots of colorful lichen all over the rocks.

This lone stem was close to the ground and seemed determined to stand in the face of the harsh winds on top of the mountains.

Bike Trip Reunion-The Places

The view as we took off from Philadelphia.

An ocean wave of clouds.

A reminder of just how flat most of this country is but in a beautiful patchwork.

First day in Colorado.  Our friend took us to hike on his friend's ranch. If you can see the brown rectangle in the orange ridge (kind of halfway across it but toward the top) that's an eagle's nest estimated to be about 10 or 12 feet high and wide...just to give you some perspective.

For a bit more perspective...the front half of the ranch.  From this angle the eagle's nest is just a dot.

A drive to Rocky Mountain National Park.

In the park.

For purple mountains majesty...

Breathtaking...just breathtaking.

Snowfields in the high mountains even in August.

High above the treeline we entered alpine tundra.  This river of rocks is churned up from the constant freeze/thaw cycle.

I just couldn't get over the various views.  I took 345 pictures, folks.  The process of deciding what to post here has not been an easy one.

Another view of the river of rocks.

Leaving the park we drove back down through the canyons outside Estes Park, which is a gorgeous view in its own right.

The next day we flew back home from Denver.  You already know the flight was less than wonderful but this sunset view certainly was a lovely way to end the trip.

Bike Trip Reunion-The People

Here is our crew from 25 years ago during a stop in Michigan.  When we reached Yellowstone National Park, three of us (Mr. Lime, Gus, and I) had to leave the rest of the group and take a more direct route to our destination.  Just after we left another guy (Gerry) joined the group, thus he is not in this picture.  Over the years we've had limited contact with most folks in the group.  Happily though, for the reunion all but two of us were able to attend. Missing from the reunion were Kristen, on the far left, and Gus, in the black shirt next to me.

Twenty-five years ago my job in the group, since I didn't do the pedaling, was to drive the car carrying supplies, cook the meals, do the laundry, and find a place to stay each night.  The first morning at the reunion I sort of fell into one of my old jobs again.  Back in the day I did the cooking with virtually no help.  This time around several folks worked together to get the meals on the table.  That was a nice change.  Although we were a single group in theory, there were two subgroups based on half the crew starting the trip in New Jersey and later meeting the other half in Pennsylvania.  The NJ crew was a bit more independent in some ways and relied less on the support vehicle.  All these years later several of them said they had no idea how much I had actually done at the time.  I wasn't looking for it in any way and was surprised when it came, but I got a belated thank-you for being "the mom" from the NJ group.  I appreciated it.

Back in 1986 we had lots of laughs with a measuring tape.  This time around it was a bottle of ketchup providing the chuckles.  Yes, we know how to make our own fun with some of the strangest items.

When we made our cross-country trek we had flat tires.  This time around, even during a comparatively short ride to tour the local microbreweries we had a tire with a slow leak which required several stops to pump it up.  Once we got to the first pub we were able to repair it properly.  It was really wonderful that our host was able to organize borrowing enough bicycles to give us each one to be able to have a commemorative ride together.

All those years ago we were all single and without children.  However, two marriages occurred within the group and most of us have children. What was interesting to note is the common theme of adventure and unconventional choices and deliberate lifestyles among  the group members.  I suppose that shouldn't be surprising given that a 4000-5000 mile bicycle tour of the US is what brought us all together in the first place but that it was sustained to greater or lesser degrees by all of us was kind of reaffirming to me.  There was extended wandering for some before settling down.  Others settled down early but in unusual settings (overseas, in tents, or intentionally small homes so there was money for extensive travel).  There's been a lot of heartbreak and adversity faced by the members of our group, and yet there has been perseverance and endurance as well.  I can't help but think perhaps those qualities that were necessary to carry us across a continent were what helped us each find a way to carry on through trials.

Last week in Colorado we convened from all over the US and UK.  We decided to recreate one of our old pictures that was used in a newspaper article (the first one in this post is almost the same as the newspaper shot, I just don't have a scanner to be able to reproduce that).  Gerry replaces Gus.  Gerry's and Trish's daughter replaces Kristen. We relived memories, shared perspectives, and caught up with so much that has gone on with each other over the years.  We laughed and cried together, we got on each others nerves and we worked together for the well-being of the group.  Folks drifted in and out of the gathering at different times and in different ways, much like we did 25 years ago but the 10 out of 12 of us who showed up all recognized that over the decades and over the the great distances we are all grateful to be a part of this group.

 

Thoughts on Air Travel

Mr. Lime and I have returned from Colorado where the bike trip reunion was held.  We arrived Wednesday and Returned Saturday.  What a whirlwind of a trip.  I wish we had a longer time but the time we had was fun and full of activities.  I also took....uh....a LOT...of pictures...345 to be exact.  I think that may be close to the sum total of pictures I took back in 1987 during the 65 days the trip lasted for me.  Ah the joys of a 16GB memory card as opposed to the bulk and cost of film, though it sure does create a lot to cull and edit.  This week promises to be quite busy as I've returned to work and later in the week will be helping Diana move into a new apartment.  While you wait for stories and pictures I have a few thoughts on the indignity or air travel today.

As soon as we arrived at check-in it became apparent that the caste system is alive and well at airports.  There's not even the slightest attempt to suggest any level of egalitarianism.  If you are preferred you go to the head of the line. Of course this has been going on forever in the form of first and business class seating for those who can afford to pay.  And ok, whatever.  They get to check in quicker, board first,  not get nickeled and dimed to death the way cattle class does.  No surprises there.  But I noticed there was also an expedited way through the TSA checkpoints and that truly grinds my gears.  Yes, there's a thriving caste system, only at the airport the untouchables are at the top of the hierarchy and don't face the invasion of privacy the rest of the lesser beings do.

In the Denver airport I had the distinct displeasure of being put through a full body scanner for the first time.  I can't even tell you how much that pissed me off.  It made me wish I had a pair of these.  Since I didn't, I gave the TSA agents the laser death stare and muttered the 4th amendment.

I mentioned being a part of cattle class because going through an airport is not unlike being herded like cattle.  We are somewhat more intelligent than cattle but anyone who has traveled knows we are all conditioned to just move along as efficiently as we can, not to make waves.  Just have everything ready for the folks checking documents and don't gunk up the process in any way.  Hesitate and the electrified prods come out.

The airlines will also hook up the milker to our wallets and suck us dry.  Need clothes?  Ok, $25 to check a bag.  (It pays to be a nudist.)  Need water?  Ok, $4 for a liter of bottled water because you'd better not try to carry your own tap water from home.  That's a serious threat to national security!  Four dollars a liter though?  If that were gasoline we'd be paying almost $12 a gallon.  The populace would riot in the streets if we had to pay $12/gallon for gas but we fork it over for something that covers 75% of the Earth and if we have manners we thank the clerk who just raped our wallet.  Need food?  No problem, that'll be $8 for 4 crackers, a handful of grapes, 3 apple slices and 4 bites of cheese.  My favorite optional charge was for 7 extra inches of legroom...because, of course, taking your legs with you is just so unnecessary.  On the way home Mr. Lime and I were seated in the last row and warned it did not recline at all.  Mr. Lime asked if 7 extra inches of legroom cost more money did that mean the inability to recline would get us a discount.  The agent at check-in looked at him as if he were a newly discovered life form from Mars.  I'm willing to be the Mars rover Curiosity was roomier than the last row.

Finally, a word to parents flying with small children.  I used to do this. I understand.  I swear I do.  I look upon you with pity because you are about to be locked inside a metal tube with a couple hundred other people.  There is no escape.  There is great potential for much misery and the withering scowls and audible eye rolls of your fellow passengers do nothing to reassure you that all will be well.  I've been on the receiving end of those glares.  You have my empathy and patience and I will not assume the flight will be miserable merely because of the presence of your child.  I've seen a lot of  young children do very well on flights.  That said, if you are seated next to me with your small children and you feed them nothing but sugar for the duration of the four hour flight do not expect me to smile beatifically when the child is jumping up and down and shouting in my ear or crawling all over me.

Ok, now that I've covered the irksome indignity of air travel you can look forward to ruminations on how time changes everything and nothing, the fun that was had, the best pictures that were taken, and the joy of reuniting with a group of adventurers.

Bike Trip Reunion

Twenty-five years ago Mr. Lime and I were part of a group of 11 people who traveled by bicycle from Pennsylvania to California.  In a few short hours we are leaving for a reunion of the folks with whom we traveled.  Five years ago I posted a series of stories from the original trip.  Since a lot of you weren't reading at that point and I;ll be gone for a few days I thought I'd leave the links for you in case you might be interested.  It was quite an adventure.  My job was not to pedal but to drive the support car, cook for the group, do their laundry, and set up camp each night.  It was an amazing way to see the country and full of lessons as well as sights.  I hope you'll take time to enjoy some of the stories.

The Riders
Wanderlust 
Big Water
Going the Extra Mile in Michigan
Weirdness
Little Bikes on the Big Prairie 
Wild Wyoming 
Yellowstone Farewell 
Three Biketeers 
California, Here I Come 
The Road Home 
Ramblings from the Road

Bike Trip #13-Ramblings from the Road

I'll apologize in advance if this post seems to ramble or go nowhere in particular. In last week's installment Gus, Mr. Lime and I made it back to Pennsylvania safely and in time for the start of fall classes. You also know Mr. Lime had proposed to me in the ever so romantic surroundings of my local farmer's market though I had neither accepted nor rejected his offer....more on that later.

Being back in school, in one location for more than one night at a time, was a strange thing after the summer. The trip had been a really significant event. I left as a college freshman who had barely ever been more than about 100 miles away from home. I returned having seen more of the USA at age 18 than a lot of people see in their entire lives and I put all the miles on the car using a driver's license that wasn't even a year old. I learned to be comfortable not knowing exactly where I was headed. I saw the beauty of my nation's landscape and experienced the warmth and generosity of her people.

I also found out how cranky people can be when living in close proximity and under less than optimal circumstances. My travelling companions found out how cranky I can be when they all made demands on me at once. Early on in the trip there was a question as to how food shopping would be handled. I said I could buy groceries and divide up the cost for folks to pay me back. That was fine until the pettiness began...You know, she ate twice as much oatmeal as I did so I shouldn't be paying as much as her. Yeah, well you ate 3 bananas to her 1 so it evens out, cough up the dough... Then the group decided to pool all their money into traveller's checks and have me sign them all. I KNEW darn well they'd all begin to hate that inside of a week. So after developing writer's cramp signing all those stupid traveller's checks less than a week later I was signing them all over again to cash them out for people who didn't like having to come to me for their own money. I rarely, if ever, say this but...I TOLD YOU SO!! Eventually we settled on folks contributing a daily amount to a food fund so I could buy groceries for the group.

Although my job was to drive the support car, cook and launder for the group and find lodgings I did spend a single day on a bicycle because I wanted to better understand what the cyclists were going through. However, by the time I decided to do this they had already covered 1000 miles. They were a wee tad more conditioned than I was by then. I did a typical 70 mile day. I went uphill and downhill. I biked in rain and in sun. The real cyclists took good care of me. When it rained they all pulled out their rain gear. I had none but I needed to keep up with them somewhat so I wound up wearing a plastic garbage bag which sort of worked. I wound up pretty wet anyway and it was during a rest stop I drank one of only 2 cups of coffee I have had in my life and only because I was so cold and wet I needed to warm up. Later on when I dried out and was pedalling up what felt like Mt. Everest and I thought my thighs were going to explode (forget feeling the burn, I was waaaaaaay past the burn) Pete came up behind me and sweetly asked how I was doing. I snarled, 'This SUCKS!!!!' He just said he was gonna drop back a bit but if I needed anything he'd be there. Thank you, Pete for not throwing a bike pump at me or directing me off the shoulder into a pile of gravel or any other nasty retort to my growling.

Pete was like that. He was the oldest in the group and I was the youngest. He became like a big brother to me and more than once I appreciated his gentle spirit and good advice to me when I became frustrated with certain individuals or the group as a whole. If you recall, he was also a gifted musician. He had brought his mandolin along on the trip and many nights he either entertained us with his playing or went off on his own to soothe his own soul. Many times I hid in some dark corner to listen to his playing so I could find my own peace. He showed me more grace than I could possibly ever deserve when it became apparent one evening that the night before I had not packed his mandolin in the car. I thought he had taken it on his bike as he sometimes did. He thought I had packed it in the car. He was crushed. I was overcome with guilt. He never once threw it up in my face.

I mentioned early on that Gus and I got on each other's nerves in a powerful way since he shared the car and my duties with me. He had a very rigid, military bearing about him and then there was me, pretty much the antithesis to that. Throw us in a car for 4000 miles and whaddya suppose happens? Early in the trip things were fine. By the time we got to South Dakota I think we not so secretly wished each other dead. Each evening when the cyclists pedalled in to meet us we'd descend on the first arrivals hoping for someone else to talk to, anyone else to talk to. However, these folks had just gotten off a bicycle after 70 or so miles. They were not looking for conversation. They were looking for food and beds.

A more relaxed week in Yellowstone helped matters because we had nowhere we had to be and Gus and I could mingle more with the others or even escape each other entirely. When he and Mr. Lime and I left the rest of the group I was afraid we'd go right back to the animosity but that break really seemed to have some lasting positive effect. When time really became a problem he and Mr. Lime alternated biking. Gus would get up at dawn to pedal 70 miles and at lunch Mr. Lime took the bike and pedalled another 70 miles so we were able to cover twice the ground in a day. The added benefit was a daily break from each other.

I'd say we buried the hatchet completely somewhere in California when I saw a huge box of cantaloupes for sale. I asked Gus if he had ever used half a cantaloupe as a bowl for ice cream. He never had so we decided he had to try this. We found a smallish melon and went looking for just a pint of ice cream since we had no way to keep a half gallon frozen and were not going to eat that much. There were no pints to be had so we found ourselves with a half gallon of Breyer's Fudge Ripple. We didn't want to waste the ice cream and it was a hot day so we decided we could manage to each eat half a melon and a quart of ice cream. We were wrong. Mr. Lime found us sprawled out on a curb by the car groaning in the discomfort of our own gluttony, surrounded by melon rinds and a carton with half melted remains. Let the reader be warned, we demonstrated how such excess could literally lead you to the gutter.

Gus and I had reconciled but Mr. Lime was still a bit of a conundrum to me. I'll remind everyone that prior to the trip we were the best of friends. Immediately prior to the trip we decided maybe we liked each other more than in just a friendly sort of way. Then we left to pedal west with the understanding among members of the group that all relationships would be completely platonic for the sake of group harmony. Then Mr. Lime stopped speaking to me. Uhhhh, hello? *knocking on the bike helmet* Can my friend come out to play? Hello? Anyone? Dear reader, do you see why last week's proposal of marriage shocked me into silence? Good, then you'll understand when I tell you it took me a month to say 'Yes.' Oh, and halfway through the month I actually said 'No.' I won't bore you with all the thoughts that swirled through my head during that month but among the considerations was that Mr. Lime had seen me at my absolute worst during the bike trip and somehow that didn't send him screaming in the direction of escape but made him decide he wanted to spend his life with me. Go figure. However, I did have to know why he barely spoke to me for 65 days. He said he couldn't stand having to remain platonic and the only way he could deal with that was to avoid me. And you men say women are inscrutable.....

Well, obviously we eventually got married. It was 20 years ago yesterday that I said yes. By the time we traded 'I dos' the other members of out peripatetic group had scattered far and wide. Kristen was in Botswana with the Peace Corps. Tricia was back in the UK training to become a midwife. Tom had gone home to Texas. Del had gone back to Iowa, presumably to collect more hilarious tales of small town life (could that boy ever get us roaring in laughter...ask me sometime about his story of slaughterhouse jobs). We lost track of Mike. Greg talked about bicycling to Alaska. Christy ambled between Pennsylvania and Michigan trying to decide what to do since she had dropped out of the nursing program right before her final semester. Pete wandered between Colorado and New England, eventually settling in Maine long enough to have an address for a while. Gus and I finished our undergrad degrees. Long before we got married Mr. Lime took a long weekend to bicycle to the Atlantic coast in New Jersey and dip his tire there so he could say his bike had truly made it coast to coast.

Twenty years ago this summer I made an amazing trip across the country with a big group of really interesting people. I learned more than I ever imagined I would. Then I accepted a proposal to make a lifelong journey with one man and you can just imagine the learning experience that has been.

Bike Trip #12- The Road Home

If you read last week you know that 3 of us officially ended the bicycling part of our trip in Cambria, California. We spent 65 days pedalling from Pennsylvania to California in order to cover somewhere in the vicinity of 4000 miles by averaging 70 miles per day on the days we biked. We did have days off here and there and the week spent in Yellowstone. From Cambria we drove further south to the Los Angeles area. I spent a few days visiting a friend who had moved to Fontana before rejoining Gus and Mr. Lime who were visiting another friend in San Bernardino (the friend I mentioned yesterday who gave us the tea set, actually). We did some of the obligatory tourist things by seeing Universal Studios, the Chinese Theater (is it Mann's, Grauman's or what by now? I don't remember which it was back then), and we bought one of those books of maps to drive around and look at the homes and former homes of movie stars. All I can say is that of all the places I'd seen all summer, LA felt the most foreign so far. When we drove into the hills and looked down on the city and saw the thick blanket of smog covering everything I was fairly grossed out. It was great to see friends though and fun to be able to say we'd been there.





Finally it was time to head east in order to get back to school. Where as we ambled along at such a slow pace getting to California we now sped along at an unreal clip to reach Pennsylvania. We left LA and headed toward Las Vegas. We were driving at night and saw this eerie glow on the horizon for a ridiculous amount of time before we ever reached it. We hit Las Vegas at 1 AM and decided to just drive down the strip to say we'd seen it before we gassed up the car. Las Vegas at 1 AM made this 18 year old girl think she'd slipped down the rabbit hole. It may as well been 1 PM for all you could tell on the strip at that hour. The lights made it bright as day and the number of people milling around at that hour was pretty much like I'm sure you'd see in the middle of the day. The taxi cabs had ads on them so you knew where to go see live nude girls. I certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore...actually I never have been, it's one of the states I've never set foot in..but I digress. I was perfectly happy to not bother getting out of the car. A hundred kajillion megawatts of neon in the middle of a god-forsaken desert held no allure for me. If I wanted to see a live nude girl I'd find a mirror. Meh. Thus was my first visit to Vegas which lasted all of maybe 20 minutes. Many years later a one week visit did little to improve my assessment of the place.





We really just wanted to get home by now and it was decided we'd only stop for bathroom, gasoline and food. If those 3 things could be taken care of at a single location that was also the goal. Oh, and we wanted to see the Grand Canyon and Bryce Canyon too. So we devised a system. Whoever was driving would do so until gremlins started to threaten their sanity or the navigator caught their head nodding. Then the driver would move to the back seat and sleep, the sleeper would become navigator, and the navigator would become driver. So how long do you think it takes 3 people to get from California to North Carolina (where we would visit Mr. Lime's mother) with this system, and figuring in time to see those two major sites? Any guesses? Oh, come on, be brave.....the answer is (drum roll please)...3 days.




We saw the north rim of the Grand Canyon and Bryce Canyon (roughly 300 miles apart from each other) in the same 24 hours that included Las Vegas. Our visit to GC was not unlike the scene in National Lampoon's 'Vacation.' Picture us standing at the edge, 'Wow! Big hole! Ok, let's go. Daylight's burning.' Doesn't Mr. Lime look like he is contemplating jumping in? When we got to BC, Gus went for a hike. We couldn't find him and for a moment I think we contemplated leaving him. Sorry, Gus.





From Bryce Canyon we found our way back to I-40. I-40 is an interstate highway that runs from coast to coast. It is flat, straight and pretty much devoid of much to look at. I am pretty sure that had we not made the detours to GC and BC we could have just gotten on the road in California, tied the steering wheel so the car wouldn't turn at all, put a brick on the accelerator, and made it to the east coast just fine. Now consider that we were in a Citation. This is a small car folks. It was August, the month during which asphalt temperatures are just a degree or two under that of the sun's surface. Did I mention the car had no AC? Well, it didn't. Interminable hours on a road through the desert in August with no AC, and no stops for sleep in a bed or showering. Oh yeah, it was more fun that 3 people should ever be allowed to enjoy.






A certain madness begins to set in. The road wobbles in front of your eyes. The stench of your car mates slowly roasting alive in a metal can flying through the desert assaults your nose. You would consider selling your soul for a radio station not playing country/western music. And the road stretches on and on and on and on.....and on. One of my shifts was the panhandle of Texas. My entire goal was to hit Oklahoma because when the scenery never changes the only way to mark progress is checking a state off the map. I was coming to the end of my thinly stretched sanity when I begged Gus to get out the map and please, for the love of God, tell me how soon we'd be reaching Oklahoma before I completely lost my grip on reality. He looked at me in amazement and said we'd crossed state lines an hour ago. I was sure he was messing with me. He insisted. I argued. He got out the map and showed me where we were. I veered over to the shoulder, got out and kissed the ground, opened the back door, kicked Mr. Lime out, handed Gus the keys and said, 'Goodnight. Keep the radio low.' I don't remember anything else until Little Rock, Arkansas.









*No reason for these pictures from Universal Studios to be here except to represent my tenuous grasp on sanity and to give you something to look at, which is more than we had on I-40.





We sped across Arkansas and were really disappointed to find I-40 cuts the long way across Tennessee but were glad to see something green at least. We finally hit North Carolina where we would make a stop at Mr. Lime's mother's house for a couple days. I was so looking forward to a bed and a shower. Don't you know, we came upon a traffic jam. Vehicles were backed up for miles. Bumper to bumper we crawled along at at rate slower than the bicycles could go. We began to descend a hill, saw the corresponding rise after that, and noticed the cause of the back-up. It wasn't construction. It wasn't some grisly accident. It was two tractor trailers side by side inching up the mountain. Neither one willing to drop back behind the other so people could get past in the other lane. I was suddenly energized by violent homicidal rage as the promise of of personal hygiene and being able to unfold my limbs during a state of blissful unconsciousness was delayed by a couple of dopes having a test of wills.








We finally reached our destination and Mr. Lime said we'd have to meet his mother at her workplace so she could give us the house key. He insisted we all go in to meet her, unbathed for three days, exhausted, and smelling to high heaven. This is where I pause to remind you all Mr. Lime and I were not married yet. I had never met his mother. His previous girlfriend was a well bred, upper class Long Island girl who was much beloved by my future in-law. Now he is bringing this stinking girl into the very swanky department store where his mother works. Great first impression to make, no? To her credit, she welcomed all of us warmly in spite of our pungence.






We spent a few days there. I basked in the unparalleled joy of running water and inner spring mattresses. We took off for Pennsylvania refreshed and arrived with a couple days to spare. I moved into my dorm room. Gus went back to the dairy farm where he was living. Mr. Lime found a new apartment and we all started classes. Mr. Lime decided, however, he needed to sell the Citation. He couldn't bear to look at it anymore after the summer and the return trip. I thought that odd since Gus and I were the ones caged in it, but hey, it was his car. He wanted to unload it fast so I told him about the farmer's market near my house that had an auto auction. We drove to my mom's for the weekend, went to the auction, and sold the car.



We walked around a while as I pointed out the local oddities. We took a seat on the bench whose previous occupant for many years would more accurately be described as the bench's permanent fixture. Week after week the guy sat there in all his greasy, pot-bellied glory with his special glasses that had sides shaped like ladies' legs as he leered at the real legs passing before him. He wasn't completely lacking in class. After all, in the winter he added tiny legwarmers to the glasses. Thoughtful touch, no? And so it was as we sat on this very bench, reflecting on the summer and what had happened and what it all meant, that Mr. Lime asked me to marry him and my jaw dropped to the peanut shell covered floor. When I regained voluntary control over my temporo-mandibular joints and realized he was completely serious I questioned his sanity, told him I had no answer and staggered out of the place muttering like a psych ward patient whose Thorazine levels are not quite right. In other words, I behaved like a significant number of the patrons of the Farmer's Market.




Last week a couple folks expressed dismay at the impending conclusion to this tale. Fear not, I have one more week of travel drivel to pour out since I got the return trip but not the loose ends tied up in this post. Tune in next week for tales of melons, mandolins, and making up. For those of you sick of this series, fear not, the end is near.

Bike Trip #11-California, Here I Come.

When last we left our 3 remaining travellers were pedalling westward after the Attack of the Idaho Spuds (confectionery, not tuberous version) and enjoyed the loveliness of The Garnish State (aka Oregon). At long last, on July 17, 1987 they entered California, The Golden State. I expected warm, sunny weather to greet me. It was, after all, July and this WAS California. I knew about the Beach Boys and how they sang about all the fun in the sun and the blonde surfer girls and driving around in convertibles. I was hopping with excitement at the chance to finally lay eyes on the Pacific Ocean. Such a naive and uniformed child was I. Imagine my shock when we crossed state lines with chattering teeth and bundled up in every layer of clothes we could find due to snow. Imagine my disappointment when I could barely find the ocean through the thick layer of fog. I'm freezing here! My shoes are soaked with slush! And where the heck is the water? What do you mean it is too cold to swim in?? This is a more southerly latitude than where I grew up visiting the Atlantic every summer! What is wrong with this place? You've got to be kidding me! No dear, we are not kidding you. These mountains are at a much higher altitude than those bumps on the east coast, hence the snow. The ocean currents in the Pacific are entirely different than the currents in the Atlantic, hence the cold water. The mountains are a coastal range, hence the fog. Sigh, ok....I have been educated. Well, it is very pretty and I am finally here. I can't believe I am finally here!




We chose to follow the Pacific Coast Highway to really enjoy the beauty of the scenery for the end of our trip. It allowed us a daily view of the ocean and the rugged mountains. We went through some beautiful places. As a person who had obtained her driver's license less than a year before embarking on this trip it also provided a rather fascinating opportunity to learn how to control one's panic response during tense driving conditions. Notice in the picture the way the road switches back and forth in tight hairpin turns as well as climbing and descending rapidly while hugging the curve of the mountains. Now realize there are no guardrails so if you leave the road you plummet off the cliffs to your death. Now add very impatient logging trucks closing in behind you as they attempt the maneuver I shall euphemize as 'the automotive colonoscopy.' It was such a relaxing, white-knuckled drive down the coast. I'm glad I took a picture or two during breaks so I could have a chance to recall the scenery since the main images seared into my mind involve truck grill filling my rear view mirror and Gus's grimaces of sheer terror.


We did encounter the massive bicycle eating trees known as Redwoods. That was fairly mindboggling and amazing to me. One night we camped along side of the road near Big Sur. By this time I had developed a really hideous cough which kept Mr. Lime and Gus awake at nights. The night at big Sur, with my sleeping bag on a cushy pile of pine needles, being lulled by the sounds of the ocean, I slept the most sound night of my life. The guys woke up in the middle of the night thinking I was having another coughing fit only to find a fox barking at my head. Apparently I had taken its spot or something. I never heard a thing though.




We continued down the coast and were beginning to run seriously low on funds. So low in fact, that we were not buying much food so we could gas up the car. The guys had pretty much already run out of all their money. I had money in my bank account at home but my cash was nearly gone. I had an ATM card but in those days machines compatible with many different cards were not common. We needed to get to San Francisco quickly to find a machine I could use. Along the way we found another church to sleep at. The deacon who gave us access owned a bakery in Gualala, CA. We did not say anything to him about our lack of funds but he was either very perceptive or just moved by kindness. We bought a small loaf of bread for dinner. He told us to stop by in the morning before we took off and so we could get some fresh goodies. Again, we bought just something small but he insisted upon giving up sweet rolls and three more loaves. That was all we ate that day, but I know the guys were especially thankful for the fuel for their tanks. Give us this day our daily bread, and He did.




We reached San Francisco and, after much searching, finally found a compatible ATM in Chinatown. We celebrated with a feast at a little restaurant there. We toured around the city a bit, seeing Fisherman's Wharf and Alcatraz from the shore. We were introduced to the concept of frozen yogurt at some trendy looking place there. (Yes, I have strong food memories from the last 2 days.) After experiencing the streetcars and the hills in San Francisco I just had to see Lombard Street too, which is billed as the crookedest street in the world. It has 8 cobblestone switchbacks in the span of a city block. The switchbacks were considered necessary to ease the incredibly steep descent and inadvertently created a tourist attraction. Bill Cosby says the flowers are there to decorate the graves of the people who died trying to navigate the road. He may have something there. Driving in SF is an adventure with all the hills, but I have to say it remains one of my favorite places I have ever visited. (I went back in 2000)




After San Francisco we continued south until we reached Cambria where we officially ended the bicycle pedalling part of our trip on July 22, 1987. We had covered roughly 4000 miles in 65 days and it was hard to believe we'd actually done it. We went to the beach and dipped his tires and all of our toes in the Pacific for our symbolic end. I marvelled over seeing the sun set into the ocean (east coast of the USA you see it rise over the ocean) and thought, 'This is indeed a golden state.'

Next week, the journey home, some odds and ends and tying up loose ends.

Bike Trip #10

Last week the Three Stooges, Three Musketeers, Three Biketeers, three in a hurry to make it back for school departed from the rest of the group. Mr. Lime, Gus and I started out on our altered course and of all the huge state of Montana, this is how much we saw. Don't blink now, you might miss it.

From there we started across southern Idaho. We saw lots and lots of the northern desert. It was endless, barren scrub. As barren as that was it didn't even compare to Craters of the Moon, which is a large lava field. We made a stop there and hiked around. The rough, uneven terrain was really hard walking. If you stumbled you'd be shredded on the volcanic rocks which also radiated all the heat of the sun. We needed to escape the heat for a bit and found a cave where Gus and I also noticed some unusual life forms.

We continued west. Just like we enjoyed trying pasties in Michigan we enjoyed other local yummies elsewhere. In Idaho we noticed a local candy called Idaho Spuds. The idea was kind of revolting but we thought we'd give it a try. It turned out to be a really bad idea because all three of us wound up with what we thought was food poisoning from these stupid things. We couldn't figure anything else it would have been. That night we slept in some park somewhere. ALERT TO G-MAN: SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH. I use the term slept very loosely because we all spent the night puking our guts out. It was here that I earned the nickname Yertle the Turtle for the way I'd weakly pop my head out of my sleeping bag, hurl, and then retreat back inside before scootching back a couple of feet from my ejected stomach contents. Mr. Lime chided me for not having the decency to get up, walk across the street, and vomit on the lawn of the Mormon church like he had. I think I puked near his shoes in response. Gus just rolled around in agony and told us both to shut up.

Mr. Lime seemed to recover a little quicker than Gus and I so he set off while we tried to pack up. I am not sure how he pedalled the bike that day or how Gus and I drove. I remember pulling over at some two bit post office/general store combo place and the two of us laying on some faded dusty old couch feeling like death warmed over. Eventually Gus rallied and poured me back into the car and drove us on to meet Mr. Lime. I was really still quite knocked out by whatever had hit us and remember Mr. Lime telling us he had found lodgings for us that night.
As it turned out he had met some college girl, somewhere...I don't know how or where but she wound up inviting us to bunk at her house. All I know is that I was never so grateful for a shower and a soft bed. The girl's parents were away but she said she had called them and they were ok with it and we should stay until we were feeling better. I could barely even eat for a couple days even though the other two seemed to be rebounding. Her parents came home and I finally felt human again and they were just absolutely gracious to us. I still can't fathom folks being so totally ok with three nauseous strangers staying at their house for a couple days. I still don't quite know how we got hooked up with them but I am ever so thankful.

After that incredible kindness we moved along and met another family when the Pastor of the church we stayed at introduced us. The man was a farmer and Mr. Lime and Gus helped him bring in the hay one day while I helped his wife and daughter around the house. In the evening they drove us all over southern Idaho sharing the beautiful parts of the states. We saw Crater Lake and the Snake River and thoroughly enjoyed seeing what made 'home' so special to them.

ALERT TO GAWPO: PAY ATTENTION IN CASE YOU MISS IT. Even though Oregon's nickname is the Beaver State we decided it should have been called the Garnish State. We passed vast fields of mint and parsley. You just don't think of those things being grown on large scale but hey, someone has to provide all those sprigs for your side dishes and desserts in restaurants. I guess there is really no excuse for an Oregoner to have bad breath either. In addition to the vast garnish fields we found the little burgh of Wagontire. When we saw the sign on the building we absolutely had to stop and more than double the population for a little while. It was another one of those post office/general store/coffee shop combo buildings with a waitress who reminded me of every woman Gary Larsen has ever drawn in his Far Side comic. Pretty state though and I wished we had a bit more time to enjoy it. We had planned to go to the coast but time demanded we cut quickly on a diagonal toward California and wait to see the Pacific until then.

Next week onto the Golden State and the Pacific Ocean.