Dear All
First I would like to say - I'M HERE - I DID IT!!!!!! Whoever said a journey of a thousand miles is begun with but a single footstep was right.
When I was leaving Independence the first day, I only got 20 miles and my hip and knees were bleeding from falls. I was very discouraged and I called Colleen to tell her that perhaps this was too much for me. She said to see how I felt in the morning - and in the morning I decided to go ahead for that day anyway. Every day after that I just coped with the challenges that day brought.
First I lacked much biking knowledge, then my physical condition was inadequate (that issue never conpletely resolved), then I wanted to recreate in a modern sense the life of the settlers as they travelled across the country by camping and cooking as much as possible (which added nuances of difficulty).
Knowing I was meeting Neil in Casper helped get me through some hard times in Nebraska, and when he arrived the company was most welcome. Troubles shared are troubles halved (and he carried some of my stuff too).
I got discouraged or maybe bored in Nevada by myself but Colleen called every night without fail and cheered me on. Sometimes she must have had difficulty imagining my situation - but always she called.
The last bit was great. Coming down 8600 feet through beautiful lush California. Even today when I left Hangtown (Placerville) I took Green Valley to Folsom but there discovered a bike path which ran along the American River 31 winding lovely miles right into downtown Sacramento (5 blocks from the Hostel where I am staying). How nice was that.
I would like to thank all of you for your support. You can't imagine how I looked forward to reading your comments and writing with you in mind.
I would also like to thank those people I met on the road who helped in a myriad of ways from putting us up to lending me a shower to just a friendly wave or honk in passing (I think the honks were friendly).
Lastly I would like to thank the thousands of people who made an effort to swing wide when passing me, really it is amazing how generous of heart people are (except for the evil RVers with their truck envy - and why do they have to cart all that stuff around anyway?).
I'll be in Vancouver day after tomorrow and then home next week - ah home - I started with Dorothy in a Kansas of tornados and now I finish with Dorothy in Oz - saying - there's no place like home.
Love
Laurence
Sacramento, California
September 30, 2009
ps ACDC thanks for the schedule and the route (which I pretty much took) Thanks for all the support - you were great and we look forward to seeing you before too long.
ps Lee tell the girls Poppa will see them next Friday
ps John, that's terrific
ps Grignons - all of you - thanks
l
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Never wish for adventure
Today's view on the Mormon Emigrant Trail
The 40 mile desert - which actually has a lot of water - but alkaline and will kill you like a bullet
The mighty Humboldt River (they called it the Humbug)
Neil doing housekeeping
Neil and I entering IdahoHi All
So I was getting pretty tired of the monotony of the endless roads of Nevada. Then in the 40 mile desert my crank started to make a grinding noise and that caught my attention. Luckily it lasted until I got to Carson City where yesterday morning I left possibly the scummiest motel room it has ever been my privilege to occupy, and went to the bike shop where the fellow changed the bearing. It was shot - possibly from me dropping the bike with me on top numerous times.
Then I turned south parallel to the hills on the way to Genoa (pronounced Wannabee - Dayton is the oldest town in Nevada - Dayton has a big sign that says so), to visit the Mormon Station. Essential stop on the Trail. Well I had a mean head wind the whole way but I thought as soon as I turned west into the climb it would improve - hahaha - it changed to west. There I was, coming on dark and nowhere near anywhere - I had only gone 30 miles - far short of the plan to camp at the height of Carson's Pass under the stars. Instead I was huddled in a dry camp up a fire road off the highway. And then it deteriorated. The wind really came up and the tent cracked like a whip, I heard my bike blow over and since I was beside BEAR CREEK - guess what I thought. The night was interminable, but eventually the stars faded into the dawn.
The wind was formidable and gusting from several directions. As I started up the canyon the gusts pushed me twice into oncoming traffic (or would have if there was any and the point is that there could have been) so I resorted to plan B - stick out your thumb. The third truck stopped and John the Carpenter (and avid biker) told me he only had to take me to the top of the canyon and the wind would abate. Its been so long since I was in a car I felt like we were going about 300 kph. He let me off just after Carson's Pass at Kirkwood which as a town is nothing but a restaurant (perfect) where I had the most delicious breakfast to celebrate being alive. Then up and down the hills, but with manageable wind, until the turn onto Mormon Emigrant Trail (Hwy 5), which was 31 miles of the prettiest scenery imaginable. Almost no cars, a new road, and huge old trees through which you glimpse scenery dropping thousands of feet. The road swooped and soared and with little pedalling I arrived in Pollock Pines to discover that California does not allow bikes of the freeways (what would Ayn Rand say). So back roads through a paradise of flowers and grapes and apples and trees and just a visual feast after the arid prairies. You could imagine the immigrants seeing this land after months of the prairies and saying "this is the promised land".
And then for the night a real treat - a Best Western - that's right - a regular motel you don't hurry to leave. My little treat to myself.
I have 39 miles left to Sutter's Fort in Sacramento and then a bus to Vancouver and then home to bore you all senseless with rambling anecdotes and fuzzy pictures.
Love
Laurence
ps John, I'll call you to see your availability.
ps Lee - what are kms? I am converted.
ps Glenn - some who wander are lost - just ask me.
ps Neil I expect to get to your place Friday or Saturday - leave a crowbar
ps Binks, never trust anyone in an RV - today realizing he couldn't safely pass me because of oncoming traffic, this RVer resorted to blowing his horn and coming on. Good practice in projecting my voice from the diaphragm as I picked myself up from the ditch.
L
So I was getting pretty tired of the monotony of the endless roads of Nevada. Then in the 40 mile desert my crank started to make a grinding noise and that caught my attention. Luckily it lasted until I got to Carson City where yesterday morning I left possibly the scummiest motel room it has ever been my privilege to occupy, and went to the bike shop where the fellow changed the bearing. It was shot - possibly from me dropping the bike with me on top numerous times.
Then I turned south parallel to the hills on the way to Genoa (pronounced Wannabee - Dayton is the oldest town in Nevada - Dayton has a big sign that says so), to visit the Mormon Station. Essential stop on the Trail. Well I had a mean head wind the whole way but I thought as soon as I turned west into the climb it would improve - hahaha - it changed to west. There I was, coming on dark and nowhere near anywhere - I had only gone 30 miles - far short of the plan to camp at the height of Carson's Pass under the stars. Instead I was huddled in a dry camp up a fire road off the highway. And then it deteriorated. The wind really came up and the tent cracked like a whip, I heard my bike blow over and since I was beside BEAR CREEK - guess what I thought. The night was interminable, but eventually the stars faded into the dawn.
The wind was formidable and gusting from several directions. As I started up the canyon the gusts pushed me twice into oncoming traffic (or would have if there was any and the point is that there could have been) so I resorted to plan B - stick out your thumb. The third truck stopped and John the Carpenter (and avid biker) told me he only had to take me to the top of the canyon and the wind would abate. Its been so long since I was in a car I felt like we were going about 300 kph. He let me off just after Carson's Pass at Kirkwood which as a town is nothing but a restaurant (perfect) where I had the most delicious breakfast to celebrate being alive. Then up and down the hills, but with manageable wind, until the turn onto Mormon Emigrant Trail (Hwy 5), which was 31 miles of the prettiest scenery imaginable. Almost no cars, a new road, and huge old trees through which you glimpse scenery dropping thousands of feet. The road swooped and soared and with little pedalling I arrived in Pollock Pines to discover that California does not allow bikes of the freeways (what would Ayn Rand say). So back roads through a paradise of flowers and grapes and apples and trees and just a visual feast after the arid prairies. You could imagine the immigrants seeing this land after months of the prairies and saying "this is the promised land".
And then for the night a real treat - a Best Western - that's right - a regular motel you don't hurry to leave. My little treat to myself.
I have 39 miles left to Sutter's Fort in Sacramento and then a bus to Vancouver and then home to bore you all senseless with rambling anecdotes and fuzzy pictures.
Love
Laurence
ps John, I'll call you to see your availability.
ps Lee - what are kms? I am converted.
ps Glenn - some who wander are lost - just ask me.
ps Neil I expect to get to your place Friday or Saturday - leave a crowbar
ps Binks, never trust anyone in an RV - today realizing he couldn't safely pass me because of oncoming traffic, this RVer resorted to blowing his horn and coming on. Good practice in projecting my voice from the diaphragm as I picked myself up from the ditch.
L
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Through the desert on a bike with no name
Hi All
I'm in Fallon as today I crossed the 40 mile desert. I feared telling you last night, Colleen, because I thought you would worry but except for a headwind, it was a piece of cake. Hardly any cars, no buildings anywhere and a brand new road. I stopped in the middle, way off the road, at a memorial for the almost 1000 people who died on this stretch, and in the distance could hear the cars blow by with air conditioning and stereos running - 150 years of progress.
But I need to take you back to Elko to tell you the story of the Bicycle Guru.
(apologies to Mike Myers)
I mentioned that the Red Lion Casino sent a van around the the RV Parks to bring potential gamblers to them. I went because right across the road was a Pizza Hut for dinner.
When I got in the van there were already a couple in the back seat and the driver was (honest to god) saying "The @#$%^ elk are at 10,000 feet this year cause of all the @#$% rain and you got to carry the @#$% meat all the @#$% way down." Then he asked me if I hunted and I said that bicycling was my thing which put him in a temporary state of shock.
The lady behind said they had seen me coming into town and asked me all the usual questions. I noticed she asked about good stuff and he about danger and cost but when I asked them about themselves the floodgates opened. They were just retired, living in Reding, California and having a hard time reestablishing intimacy after many years of jobs and family. They bought the RV to travel and do things together and right there she started talking about how he had no soul for adventure and he about how she was totally impractical.
The driver was squirming.
Since we had arrived at the Casino I suggested we go inside and continue the conversation over a coffee, much to the driver's relief. While we were getting our coffee I innocently remarked how much better coffee was with milk. These people must have thought there was a lot more to my trip than just bicycling because she immediately said "Honey, do you see what he means?"
"Yes" he replied, "it's a parable - you are the coffee, I am the milk"
"My God, together we make a perfect pair, that's what he's saying".
The billing and cooing was getting pretty thick so I made my escape - The Bicycle Guru was born.
But wait - there's more. The next day I stopped for lunch at a rest area and a mother and son came over and asked where I was going etc. I asked where they were from and they said "Minnesota".
"Oh, by any chance near Hibbing" I asked him as she lit a cigarette.
"My God! How did you know? No one has ever heard of Hibbing", she choked.
The Bicycle Guru looked inscrutable (and failed to mention that Hibbing is the only town he knows in Minnesota and that's because Bob Dylan was born there) and said "I heard it on the wind".
And, not content to quit, said "Lady, I don't want to interfere but you should consider quiting smoking as I see black clouds gathering over you".
They sat in their car talking for quite a while as I ate and then they pulled out but stopping at the trash can the power window went down and a hand reached out and deposited a pack of cigarettes inside (empty or full I'll never know?).
The Bicycle Guru rides on.
After Elko was Battle Mountain (motel), then Winnemucca (RV Park), then Lovelock (RV Park) then here. That's almost all on I80 which is horrible to bike but whenever I tried to take any of the old roads they decayed into gravel washboard leaving meto hump my stuff over the barbed wire to get back on the Intersate (which I only did once - that was enough).
I did meet an archaelogist who introduced me to the lovely fall yellow bloom of Raggit Bush and it's unique aroma as well assome of the history of the area.
Today I bid my friend the Humboldt River goodbye at the Humboldt Sink and tomorrow will meet the Carson River. Tomorrow will be my last night in Nevada and then it's time to see how good my conditioning is when I have to climb some really big hills into California. People tell me Hwys 88 and 89 are very scenic and so is the descent along the American River.
Well, that's all, so love
Laurence
ps Andrew, I learned my ute lesson watching
"My Cousin Vinnie"
ps Glenn - a motorcycle with a sidecar - what say you?
ps Lee - Istudy the mapsforhours tryingto extract all possible information
ps Laura - did you utter a "dinkyism"?
ps Binks - the other day the RV beside me was pulling out at the crack of dawn and I found myself checking the top for figurines.
ps John - you are evil, evil with tasty foam on your upper lip.
ps Richard, I could have got over that barbed wire fence a lot easier if I thought there were golfballs onthe other side.
L
I'm in Fallon as today I crossed the 40 mile desert. I feared telling you last night, Colleen, because I thought you would worry but except for a headwind, it was a piece of cake. Hardly any cars, no buildings anywhere and a brand new road. I stopped in the middle, way off the road, at a memorial for the almost 1000 people who died on this stretch, and in the distance could hear the cars blow by with air conditioning and stereos running - 150 years of progress.
But I need to take you back to Elko to tell you the story of the Bicycle Guru.
(apologies to Mike Myers)
I mentioned that the Red Lion Casino sent a van around the the RV Parks to bring potential gamblers to them. I went because right across the road was a Pizza Hut for dinner.
When I got in the van there were already a couple in the back seat and the driver was (honest to god) saying "The @#$%^ elk are at 10,000 feet this year cause of all the @#$% rain and you got to carry the @#$% meat all the @#$% way down." Then he asked me if I hunted and I said that bicycling was my thing which put him in a temporary state of shock.
The lady behind said they had seen me coming into town and asked me all the usual questions. I noticed she asked about good stuff and he about danger and cost but when I asked them about themselves the floodgates opened. They were just retired, living in Reding, California and having a hard time reestablishing intimacy after many years of jobs and family. They bought the RV to travel and do things together and right there she started talking about how he had no soul for adventure and he about how she was totally impractical.
The driver was squirming.
Since we had arrived at the Casino I suggested we go inside and continue the conversation over a coffee, much to the driver's relief. While we were getting our coffee I innocently remarked how much better coffee was with milk. These people must have thought there was a lot more to my trip than just bicycling because she immediately said "Honey, do you see what he means?"
"Yes" he replied, "it's a parable - you are the coffee, I am the milk"
"My God, together we make a perfect pair, that's what he's saying".
The billing and cooing was getting pretty thick so I made my escape - The Bicycle Guru was born.
But wait - there's more. The next day I stopped for lunch at a rest area and a mother and son came over and asked where I was going etc. I asked where they were from and they said "Minnesota".
"Oh, by any chance near Hibbing" I asked him as she lit a cigarette.
"My God! How did you know? No one has ever heard of Hibbing", she choked.
The Bicycle Guru looked inscrutable (and failed to mention that Hibbing is the only town he knows in Minnesota and that's because Bob Dylan was born there) and said "I heard it on the wind".
And, not content to quit, said "Lady, I don't want to interfere but you should consider quiting smoking as I see black clouds gathering over you".
They sat in their car talking for quite a while as I ate and then they pulled out but stopping at the trash can the power window went down and a hand reached out and deposited a pack of cigarettes inside (empty or full I'll never know?).
The Bicycle Guru rides on.
After Elko was Battle Mountain (motel), then Winnemucca (RV Park), then Lovelock (RV Park) then here. That's almost all on I80 which is horrible to bike but whenever I tried to take any of the old roads they decayed into gravel washboard leaving meto hump my stuff over the barbed wire to get back on the Intersate (which I only did once - that was enough).
I did meet an archaelogist who introduced me to the lovely fall yellow bloom of Raggit Bush and it's unique aroma as well assome of the history of the area.
Today I bid my friend the Humboldt River goodbye at the Humboldt Sink and tomorrow will meet the Carson River. Tomorrow will be my last night in Nevada and then it's time to see how good my conditioning is when I have to climb some really big hills into California. People tell me Hwys 88 and 89 are very scenic and so is the descent along the American River.
Well, that's all, so love
Laurence
ps Andrew, I learned my ute lesson watching
"My Cousin Vinnie"
ps Glenn - a motorcycle with a sidecar - what say you?
ps Lee - Istudy the mapsforhours tryingto extract all possible information
ps Laura - did you utter a "dinkyism"?
ps Binks - the other day the RV beside me was pulling out at the crack of dawn and I found myself checking the top for figurines.
ps John - you are evil, evil with tasty foam on your upper lip.
ps Richard, I could have got over that barbed wire fence a lot easier if I thought there were golfballs onthe other side.
L
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
A History Lesson
Hi All
As you probably know, one of the distinguishing features of my route is that it was used by so many different people. Just in the 1800's alone, you can count the Mormons who trekked to Salt Lake (fleeing or seeking), the Pony Express to and from California (looking for government subsidy), the Oregon settlers on their way to homestead (cheap/free land), and of course, the so-called 49'ers intent on the instant wealth of finding gold (something for nothing). This means that without getting off my bike I am able to see an incredible number of historical points. Which is good since a side trip on a bike is not like a side trip in a car.
But roads diverge, and so near Kemmerer the Pony Express and the Mormons headed south for Salt Lake City (to be) and points west. We (the 49'ers and I) split with the Oregon people at Raft River when we headed south-west to City of Rocks and the Humboldt River and they chose north-west. Now those trail markers that have marked my journey from Independence no longer have the four logos but only show the California Trail.
Today was kind of flat. I spent an hour in the broken-down historical section of Wells taking photos and then came almost to Elko before finding a gas station with cold drinks. The route was just hilly enough to be challenging but I was forced onto I80 most of the way which is fine for cars but bad for people. I think because most of the unknown part of the journey is over and much of my day is now routine, I am getting homesick. I have been on the road for over a month which is a long time away. This part of the journey can be measured in 50 mile days of biking which I can use to cut up the map into the stages to come. Thank goodness I have the really big mountains ahead to anticipate. Maybe I should change routes? I think too that I am eager to get to Vancouver and see John and family as well as meet Rachel.
Today after lunch I crossed the Humboldt for the first time. It was a pretty small stream to me but to 49ers after some days without water since leaving the 1000 Springs Creek, I guess it was a welcome sight.
Tonight I am in Elko which seems pretty big on gambling - there are a lot of casinos, which is ironic in such a depressed area. The RV park I'm in runs a shuttle to The Red Lion Casino down the street, and lucky for me, there is a Pizza Hut across the street. That's my evening.
Tomorrow I need to make Battle Mountain which is about 80 miles west. I also need to climb Immigrant Pass early in the afternoon which locals smirk when they tell me - yagayawerkcututferyabey (or something like that - we were in a bar). By the way, people here all think I have an accent - when it's them who do.
Be Excellent
Laurence
ps Marivic thanks for the note - I hope they get all the good of my genes and none of the bad, and Happy Birthday Jacinta
ps Lee thank you so much for your work on the map
ps Barack and Michy - stay calm but they don't like your outlawing full automatics here, you actually go into places here and people are passing firearms around - still freaks me out. But then Neil had an empty can in his hand and asked one person if they recycled and he responded "You from California"?
ps Lara it was so cold this morning the water was frozen in my camel mouthpiece - brrrrrr
ps Irene and Patrick - how can you have a 40 yr. old son? I can't have friends that old.
ps Andie what a sweet note - I detect you are missing travelling yourself? Soon enough.
ps Neil, I've still got all that soup. I'll bring it to your house.
ps Colleen - sorry for the reception last night - I was in a Casino restaurant and all the electronics seem to play havoc with my phone. Please try tonight - you are my highlight.
ps Kim, how are things on Botsford?
L
As you probably know, one of the distinguishing features of my route is that it was used by so many different people. Just in the 1800's alone, you can count the Mormons who trekked to Salt Lake (fleeing or seeking), the Pony Express to and from California (looking for government subsidy), the Oregon settlers on their way to homestead (cheap/free land), and of course, the so-called 49'ers intent on the instant wealth of finding gold (something for nothing). This means that without getting off my bike I am able to see an incredible number of historical points. Which is good since a side trip on a bike is not like a side trip in a car.
But roads diverge, and so near Kemmerer the Pony Express and the Mormons headed south for Salt Lake City (to be) and points west. We (the 49'ers and I) split with the Oregon people at Raft River when we headed south-west to City of Rocks and the Humboldt River and they chose north-west. Now those trail markers that have marked my journey from Independence no longer have the four logos but only show the California Trail.
Today was kind of flat. I spent an hour in the broken-down historical section of Wells taking photos and then came almost to Elko before finding a gas station with cold drinks. The route was just hilly enough to be challenging but I was forced onto I80 most of the way which is fine for cars but bad for people. I think because most of the unknown part of the journey is over and much of my day is now routine, I am getting homesick. I have been on the road for over a month which is a long time away. This part of the journey can be measured in 50 mile days of biking which I can use to cut up the map into the stages to come. Thank goodness I have the really big mountains ahead to anticipate. Maybe I should change routes? I think too that I am eager to get to Vancouver and see John and family as well as meet Rachel.
Today after lunch I crossed the Humboldt for the first time. It was a pretty small stream to me but to 49ers after some days without water since leaving the 1000 Springs Creek, I guess it was a welcome sight.
Tonight I am in Elko which seems pretty big on gambling - there are a lot of casinos, which is ironic in such a depressed area. The RV park I'm in runs a shuttle to The Red Lion Casino down the street, and lucky for me, there is a Pizza Hut across the street. That's my evening.
Tomorrow I need to make Battle Mountain which is about 80 miles west. I also need to climb Immigrant Pass early in the afternoon which locals smirk when they tell me - yagayawerkcututferyabey (or something like that - we were in a bar). By the way, people here all think I have an accent - when it's them who do.
Be Excellent
Laurence
ps Marivic thanks for the note - I hope they get all the good of my genes and none of the bad, and Happy Birthday Jacinta
ps Lee thank you so much for your work on the map
ps Barack and Michy - stay calm but they don't like your outlawing full automatics here, you actually go into places here and people are passing firearms around - still freaks me out. But then Neil had an empty can in his hand and asked one person if they recycled and he responded "You from California"?
ps Lara it was so cold this morning the water was frozen in my camel mouthpiece - brrrrrr
ps Irene and Patrick - how can you have a 40 yr. old son? I can't have friends that old.
ps Andie what a sweet note - I detect you are missing travelling yourself? Soon enough.
ps Neil, I've still got all that soup. I'll bring it to your house.
ps Colleen - sorry for the reception last night - I was in a Casino restaurant and all the electronics seem to play havoc with my phone. Please try tonight - you are my highlight.
ps Kim, how are things on Botsford?
L
Monday, September 21, 2009
So Many Revolutions
Hi All
I'm in Wells, Nevada. Four Hundred and some miles left to go until Sacramento.
Neil and I went out for a spectacular Italian dinner on Wednesday as well as shopping for a plate for me to replace the one I broke. Thursday he came 11 miles west with me before heading south. We parted at a gas station with hugs and jokes and two miles later I started to miss him (although I could go a lot slower without him) like crazy cakes.
Up till now our Idaho had been along rivers and lush and fertile but as I headed south along the Raft Valley it became more and more to resemble arid Wyoming. That night I stayed in a highway rest area (but knew enough to put garbage cans over the appropriate sprinklers for the inevitable 5 AM watering). Colleen phoned and that helped a lot with missing Neil.
The next day (Fri.) I headed for City of Rocks (so named by the 49'ers since many of these phantasmagorical shapes could be imagined to be buildings or people). It is magical. I stayed in the state park and my neighbour who was there rock climbing brought me over a frosty lager while I was cooking dinner - how absolutely splendid.
Saturday I said farewell to City of Rocks, but the only way out necessitated gravel so although I have been avoiding gravel (clumsy me and road rash), this time there was no option. 28 miles later I kissed the pavement of Hwy n81. From there it is 2 miles to the Utah border and Pacific Time (yes I have crossed 2 time changes, and by bike). There was nothing between City of Rocks and Park Valley, so I had to plan to go all day with the water I had. I ran out just before Park Valley but knocked on doors of houses until I got water (and a suggestion to stay beside the deserted Rodeo Grounds where there was water and inadvertently, I suppose, an unlocked washroom - Heaven).
The next day was the same lack of towns, except this time it was 69 miles and I would cross the top of the Great Salt Desert - how cool is that. Luckily a guy passing on a dirt bike gave me a cold coke - ah! I got to Montello in Nevada around supper, set up in the park next to the Cowboy Bar and Cafe, ate, and then went to the Cafe to do crosswords and watch the local nightlife (of which there was little).
This morning I had breakfast at the Cafe with Candice who is a gold prospector. But instead of a burro she had a Broncho, instead of "gosh darn" she spoke of anticlines and overburden, instead of whisky for breakfast she had coffee. Where is the romance in that. Then onward but only 50 miles today because I had to climb a range (I figured the big hill was a 5% incline for 4 miles which will never get me the spotted jersey but is still a mighty big pile of dirt to pedal up.
Now I am in Wells at an RV Park where I will try out my new sleeping bag. I was freezing as it got colder because my "Space Blanket" (mylar film with a reflective coat) was condensing onto the bag and I was getting damp - yuck so I went to the local hardware store and purchased $29.95 worth of comfort although the load of my poor bike gets higher and higher - soon I'll need rear view mirrors. BUT - Now I have mattress and bag - comfy.
From a biker's point of view, the scenery the last few days has been little changing. Scenes like the one of miles of fence covered on one side by tumbleweeds, or of dust devils playing in the sage stay with me. The weather has been awesome with some unfortunate turns of wind by which I mean right in my face. I suspect I would be enjoying it more if I was fitter and less sore, but all in all my ability to move forward has surpassed my expectations.
Got to go - Library closing
Laurence
ps Laura - I scored Celestial Seasonings mixed box - yummy
ps Rachel - Isn't it funny we have the identical model bikes (and yet Neil didn't invite you along)?
ps Colleen, can you give me Maria's phone number in case she wants to meet for coffee?
ps Alain - on the way to Park Valley an enormous storm began gathering over the Grouse Mountains north of me as I went west. I could see in the masses of black cloud sheets of rain and vivid slashes of lightening but couldn't get a handle on it's direction - so I just pedalled as hard as I could and hoped. One more time the storm nipped my heels and then passed behind me until that night on the eastern horizon the entire skyline would light up although the thunder could not be heard. Some lucky.
ps Neil - on Sunday at lunch I looked up and saw a contrail. I wondered if it was you cozy at 30,000 ft. looking down on me and remembering all the adequate times (haha) we had.
ps Irene and Patrick where are you?
ps Ray, much of the scenery is like southern Chile.
ps sorry no pics, I'm out of time
L
I'm in Wells, Nevada. Four Hundred and some miles left to go until Sacramento.
Neil and I went out for a spectacular Italian dinner on Wednesday as well as shopping for a plate for me to replace the one I broke. Thursday he came 11 miles west with me before heading south. We parted at a gas station with hugs and jokes and two miles later I started to miss him (although I could go a lot slower without him) like crazy cakes.
Up till now our Idaho had been along rivers and lush and fertile but as I headed south along the Raft Valley it became more and more to resemble arid Wyoming. That night I stayed in a highway rest area (but knew enough to put garbage cans over the appropriate sprinklers for the inevitable 5 AM watering). Colleen phoned and that helped a lot with missing Neil.
The next day (Fri.) I headed for City of Rocks (so named by the 49'ers since many of these phantasmagorical shapes could be imagined to be buildings or people). It is magical. I stayed in the state park and my neighbour who was there rock climbing brought me over a frosty lager while I was cooking dinner - how absolutely splendid.
Saturday I said farewell to City of Rocks, but the only way out necessitated gravel so although I have been avoiding gravel (clumsy me and road rash), this time there was no option. 28 miles later I kissed the pavement of Hwy n81. From there it is 2 miles to the Utah border and Pacific Time (yes I have crossed 2 time changes, and by bike). There was nothing between City of Rocks and Park Valley, so I had to plan to go all day with the water I had. I ran out just before Park Valley but knocked on doors of houses until I got water (and a suggestion to stay beside the deserted Rodeo Grounds where there was water and inadvertently, I suppose, an unlocked washroom - Heaven).
The next day was the same lack of towns, except this time it was 69 miles and I would cross the top of the Great Salt Desert - how cool is that. Luckily a guy passing on a dirt bike gave me a cold coke - ah! I got to Montello in Nevada around supper, set up in the park next to the Cowboy Bar and Cafe, ate, and then went to the Cafe to do crosswords and watch the local nightlife (of which there was little).
This morning I had breakfast at the Cafe with Candice who is a gold prospector. But instead of a burro she had a Broncho, instead of "gosh darn" she spoke of anticlines and overburden, instead of whisky for breakfast she had coffee. Where is the romance in that. Then onward but only 50 miles today because I had to climb a range (I figured the big hill
Now I am in Wells at an RV Park where I will try out my new sleeping bag. I was freezing as it got colder because my "Space Blanket" (mylar film with a reflective coat) was condensing onto the bag and I was getting damp - yuck so I went to the local hardware store and purchased $29.95 worth of comfort although the load of my poor bike gets higher and higher - soon I'll need rear view mirrors. BUT - Now I have mattress and bag - comfy.
From a biker's point of view, the scenery the last few days has been little changing. Scenes like the one of miles of fence covered on one side by tumbleweeds, or of dust devils playing in the sage stay with me. The weather has been awesome with some unfortunate turns of wind by which I mean right in my face. I suspect I would be enjoying it more if I was fitter and less sore, but all in all my ability to move forward has surpassed my expectations.
Got to go - Library closing
Laurence
ps Laura - I scored Celestial Seasonings mixed box - yummy
ps Rachel - Isn't it funny we have the identical model bikes (and yet Neil didn't invite you along)?
ps Colleen, can you give me Maria's phone number in case she wants to meet for coffee?
ps Alain - on the way to Park Valley an enormous storm began gathering over the Grouse Mountains north of me as I went west. I could see in the masses of black cloud sheets of rain and vivid slashes of lightening but couldn't get a handle on it's direction - so I just pedalled as hard as I could and hoped. One more time the storm nipped my heels and then passed behind me until that night on the eastern horizon the entire skyline would light up although the thunder could not be heard. Some lucky.
ps Neil - on Sunday at lunch I looked up and saw a contrail. I wondered if it was you cozy at 30,000 ft. looking down on me and remembering all the adequate times (haha) we had.
ps Irene and Patrick where are you?
ps Ray, much of the scenery is like southern Chile.
ps sorry no pics, I'm out of time
L
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A Good Day
You are looking north up the Bear River Valley at what looks like a tornado forming - but then the clouds blew away
Cut off his own leg eh? - there's America's answer to MedicareHi All
Neil set the alarm for 7 (voluntarily) today and so we were up and out early. We left the Hideout Motel in Cokeville by 8:30 to 52 chilly degrees and overcast skies with a light 3 to 5 mph wind from the north. Cokeville is famous, by the way, for having the first female mayor and councilwomen in America. Apparently many suffragettes quoted this fact in their speeches as proof of female capabilities.
The 10 miles to the Idaho border was a straight shot up the west side of the Wyoming Range in the Bear River Valley and was easy biking between ranges (except twice). The land here is well irrigated and much more cultivated than western Wyoming. We saw a lot of wheat and oats (that's what we think they were).
In Montpelier at the local sporting goods store, I tried a new glue for the sleeping mat but it failed to adhere, so I bought a cheap air mattress to put on top of mine. I will have comfort if I have to stack them 2 ft. high. Then Neil's coffee radar cut in and like a pointer, he headed for maybe the only espresso bar in Idaho. Amid posters of Jimi and Bob and Peace and Love, we had real coffee. Next door is an abandoned bank that Butch Cassidy once robbed. The deputy chased Cassidy's gang on a bike but couldn't catch them (so he said).
We picked up a tailwind in the afternoon and blew into Soda Springs at 5. An easy peasey 63 miles. The first place we stopped to inquiry about camping had a sign "rooms -$39.95" so again I'm living the fat life (with a TV you could wear on your wrist it's so small).
Tomorrow is Neil's last day so we'll stay in Pocatello and celebrate a great week together before he heads south on Thursday and I head over the next few days through Raft River and Almo to City of Rocks State Park. Then Ta Ta Idaho and hello state number six - Utah.
Colleen, I have new phone numbers and through modern technology one is
613-686-2063 (Ottawa) and the other is
778-785-0847 (Vancouver)
7-7:30 PM Mountain Time
Love Laurence
ps Scott - I loved your note - very lyrical - Nietzsche meets Snoopy
ps Mich and Bar - I'm not losing a biking partner, I'm gaining the remote
ps Alain - you know the bike is a real leveller. Whomever I meet, the bike opens the door - it's really astonishing how it makes friends. I feel like I'm tagging along with a more popular friend.
ps Rachel Hi, glad you like the photos - he is some cute eh?
ps Lee you are doing a great job with the map. It adds a lot, thanks.
L
Monday, September 14, 2009
Major Joy
Excess energy
Roy and Danelle's House last night
The camping the night before
Neil coming up South PassDear All
Neil and I have conquered South Pass and the Continental Divide. I am elated.
But to begin where I left off:
From the Cafe we headed west dropping 1100 ft after SweetWater Junction which has ceased to exist. The descent is 6 miles of scary fast and then the wind swung to the west - rats. We arrived in Landers around dinner and did the motel, shower, groceries, patch kit for the air mattress which leaks, dinner (veggie burger for me, 1 lb of beef for Neil) shuffle to retire replete. Another day, another 60 miles. We can see snow on the mountains in the west. Weather is clear and sunny.
Saturday I woke up excited. Today is South Pass - we cross the Continental Divide today after climbing from 5200 to 7600 ft over 25 miles. I saw this as a defining test of endurance. The first 9 miles flew by and then we started to climb and climb and descend and climb and descend and climb until Red Butte Canyon where we just pedalled ceaselessly (or at least I did) for a very long time but eventually in the afternoon we came to the turn for Altantic City where we realized we were at 8300 ft. The trekkers went to 7600 but the modern road is higher.
Atlantic City is cute -- pop about 76 and a place to get water and stuff for dinner. We were planning on stopping about 6 miles past South Pass at a picnic area where Hwy 28 crosses the Sweetwater but Shorty at the bar told us it was closed - no water, no toilets - so poor Neil had to pack our water up 700 ft. out of Atlantic City and then to the campsite. The hills out of town were so steep I had to walk my bike sometimes. But we got there and set up a nice camp just at sunset with instant potatoes with peas, dirty rice with fresh tomato, onion and pepper, and candy for dessert as we watched the last rays slip behind the hills. Pretty satisfying (oh and Neil carried a six pack and ice also). During the night the patch failed on my matress and I was back to being old bones on cold hard ground.
Sunday we thought we would do our first century (100 miles in 1 day) and we were right on track (63 miles) until late afternoon at the Mormon Crossing of the Green River when the wind became unbelievably fierce. I expect in the order of 40 mph - clearly too dangerous to bike in. I made Neil stop and we stuck out our thumbs about 36 miles from Kemmerer.
Enter Roy Rogers and Dale Evans (actually Roy and Danelle Christensen) who don't pass by people who need help - they stop. We threw our bikes in the back of their Dodge pick-up and they took us to where the road bent to a better angle on the wind - and then they invited us home for dinner and a shower. Roy said he'd bring us back from their home in Big Piney to Kemmerer in the morning. We couldn't agree fast enough. Beautiful log home tastefully decorated western style. Green Chiles, stir-fry, and wine and great company - what fun. They can be my neighbours anytime.
Today, Monday, we went 45 miles before the rain hit just as we entered Cokeville. We were into the wind the first 15 miles (using middle ring with Neil breaking lead like a Canadian duck in a flight of two) until we turned north and the wind was behind us. Then it was "big ring and hammer". We started late from Kemmerer by the time Roy drove us there, and rather than get wet trying for the 30 miles to Montpelier we quit. So here we are, content with the day's progress.
Neil has made flight arrangements home for Sunday from Salt Lake City as our time together draws to an close. We have tomorrow to Soda Springs and the next day where ever and then he'll head south. I'm going to miss him, he is such great company as well as a practical source of advice.
Love from Cokeville (10 miles to Idaho)
ps Mario and Joan - next year the Tour de France
ps Michelle and Obama - don't be depressed, but people here don't like you
ps Dave V - good to hear your voice after all this time
ps John - thank you for your wishes - I haven't the cable for your podcast so have that to look forward to later.
ps Lee - Roy had a whole quilt he made of beaver pelts
ps Laura - you must be rocking at the bookstore
ps Colleen - I bike just like you walked the pilgrimage - one step at a time
ps Carmine - man St. Anthony's sounds good
ps Kevin - after the Rattlesnake range we're in a great high range arid plateau of sage and antelope ( they call them goats here). Great biking except for the wind oh but it can howl.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Split Rock Bar and Cafe
Last nights Campground/Fiesta
Hey Dad, are these our relatives
This is our campground at the Alcova reservoir, formed by damming the North platte before it turns towards Colorado. A fitting farewell to a faithful friend.Good Morning All
Good thing I had the 3 weeks biking practice before Neil arrived. On the first hill he gradually faded into a distant dot until later when I arrived gasping at the top, he was reclining and resting. Wow to youth.
We had a late start on Wednesday after assembling his bike, mailing back his extras and eating etc. We ended up at the Alcova Reservoir at dinner where we descended an enormous distance through the parched hills to a jewel-like lake where we plunged and cooled. That night I left the fly off my tent so there was only screen between me and the Milky Way - spectacular - that is until the moon rose at 2 AM and it was like there was a light on in the room.
Thursday was very bad for me. First we went 68 miles into a steady headwind with serious amounts of climbing through the Rattlesnake Range. This was just too much for me and although I drafted behind Neil whenever the wind was favourable, during the night that old shoulder complaint of mine came back with a vengeance and I spent a mostly sleepless night.
We got to Jeffrey City (Pop 50) about 6:30 and asked about camping. "Go across the street" the bartender advised. "Byron at the Monking Bird Pottery Studio will let you camp and won't charge you." So over we went. Turns out it was Byron's 40th birthday and he and a few chums were tailgate bbq'ing with a tub of iced beer. The fun was to sit on the roof of the building and try to pitch empties into the tiny opening of an oil drum. Right. Pass on that, but fun to sit and talk.
Today begins well. The bar opened at 6 for breakfast which is good since it is the only place until Lander where we'll spend the night (59 miles). Also we drop 1100 feet after SweetWater Junction AND the wind is from the east. We'll motel tonight and get a kit to patch my leaky air mattress (oh these bones hate the cold cold ground) and aspirin for my shoulder.
lots of love
Laurence
ps I'm doing this over breakfast so haven't time to read comments n(if any)). Will later now we have Neil's laptop.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Casper, Wyoming
Bike path along North Platte west end of Casper
Smallest town I have ever heard of
Register Cliff - signatures of travellers
Entering Wyoming (camera on timer on bike)Dear All
Here I am in the heart of Cowboy Country. It was Johnson county, first county to the north, that had a war in the 1880's between large spread free-range cattlemen and homesteaders who came in and fenced off the water. The cattlemen hired a group called "The Regulators" to terrorize the farmers, and the army had to be called in to impose peace. Movies have been made.
The city of Casper was Fort Casper during the trail days and all four trails - Oregon, California, Mormon, and Pony Express went through here. This was a roaring place until the trails closed with the advent of the railroad, and the army moved their fort 50 miles east to Fort Fetterman. Then they found oil just north of here and things got even hotter. Today the town is a lot quieter - specially on this long week-end when everything and I do mean everything was closed including any access to the internet. Luckily I got here Saturday in time to do a little grocery and beverage shopping. I have been doing little since, waiting for Neil to arrive tonight at 1:30 AM. Yay!
Here I am in the heart of Cowboy Country. It was Johnson county, first county to the north, that had a war in the 1880's between large spread free-range cattlemen and homesteaders who came in and fenced off the water. The cattlemen hired a group called "The Regulators" to terrorize the farmers, and the army had to be called in to impose peace. Movies have been made.
The city of Casper was Fort Casper during the trail days and all four trails - Oregon, California, Mormon, and Pony Express went through here. This was a roaring place until the trails closed with the advent of the railroad, and the army moved their fort 50 miles east to Fort Fetterman. Then they found oil just north of here and things got even hotter. Today the town is a lot quieter - specially on this long week-end when everything and I do mean everything was closed including any access to the internet. Luckily I got here Saturday in time to do a little grocery and beverage shopping. I have been doing little since, waiting for Neil to arrive tonight at 1:30 AM. Yay!
Monday (holiday) I packed a picnic lunch for one and biked to the old Fort. Very nice bikepath along the Platte. I will lose the river a few miles west of town after following it all the way from the town of North platte. The settlers must have felt nervous, first watching the good grass fade out for the animals, and now their source of water stop until almost Idaho when we hit the Sweetwater.
To bring you up to date, when I left Guernsey, I was in a quandary. The short route bordering Interstate 25 seemed to be partly unpaved and I decided that could turn out to be a very bad idea. So I took the way less travelled. I started north on 270 through Hartville, the oldest incorporated town in Wyoming and along a lovely, lonely winding 40 mile road. The first 10 miles were mostly climbing, and I struggled, but after that I ran north in a valley between ranges of the Black Hills and the scenery was great. This is really an arid country. The soil is fine gravel and even the grass grows in tufts with space between as if there isn't enough nourishment otherwise. There are way more cows than trees. At Manville I had lunch and turned west onto Hwy 18 and decided to go all the way to Douglas. This would be about 88 miles for the day. On the way I found Lost Spring which had a town sign that said - Pop 1, Elev. 4200 (the towns are beginning to put their elevations on their signs) - I don't know if he was home.
That night I stayed in a small motel in Douglas and cooked fettucine alfredo (instant) on the front sidewalk while watching a massive lightening storm discharge across the north sky - fearsome. I was suffering from a crescent sunburn on my lower back below my camel (water pack) which I guess I didn't notice developing over the strain of pedalling. It was right through my shirt which gives you an idea of the sun. I have been using sunblock SPF70 since I toasted my nose a while back so this was an unpleasant surprise.
Next day brought the usual aches and stiffness but I wanted to get to Casper before the long week-end. I went through Glenrock (as did Kit Carson according to the sign), and visited some cart ruts which were in a small neighbourhood park. Half the day I biked Interstate 25, which Wyoming allows, and although it had two drawbacks - it goes over rather than around hills and the cars stink - the shoulder was wide and safe. The last half of the day I took the old highway which was a joy of solitude.
At four I coasted into the Royal Motel of Casper, and got four nights for $200. It's a friendly place with a bunch of Latino workers and their families staying here and sitting outside eating and drinking a lot. The truck in front of my unit has a green garbage bag for a side window and for the first time, I am not the only bike parked outside. Great water pressure though.
Neil and I leave on Wed. morning for Independence Rock and then on 100 miles to South Pass which straddles the continental divide and marks the half-way point of my journey. I can't believe how time has flown.
The western horizon has resolved from a dark blue shadow into a formidable range of big, big hills and everyone relishes telling me of the steep climb ahead. I guess like the settlers, we'll take it a step at a time and rest as much as required. It does look pretty intimidating, but the scenery promises to be beyond memorable.
love Laurence
ps Thanks Lee - great job on the map
ps John, the miracles are in the small stuff.
ps Laura - you are a most faithful friend
ps Col - I love you from Independence to Sacramento and back again (kidding about the back again)
ps Les - some must work, some must play
Scott - the food sucks - luckily my eating standards are very low - they match my cooking.
ps Clarkes - hi, no smart remarks?
ps Samsons - hi, there are more antelopes than people in Wyoming
To bring you up to date, when I left Guernsey, I was in a quandary. The short route bordering Interstate 25 seemed to be partly unpaved and I decided that could turn out to be a very bad idea. So I took the way less travelled. I started north on 270 through Hartville, the oldest incorporated town in Wyoming and along a lovely, lonely winding 40 mile road. The first 10 miles were mostly climbing, and I struggled, but after that I ran north in a valley between ranges of the Black Hills and the scenery was great. This is really an arid country. The soil is fine gravel and even the grass grows in tufts with space between as if there isn't enough nourishment otherwise. There are way more cows than trees. At Manville I had lunch and turned west onto Hwy 18 and decided to go all the way to Douglas. This would be about 88 miles for the day. On the way I found Lost Spring which had a town sign that said - Pop 1, Elev. 4200 (the towns are beginning to put their elevations on their signs) - I don't know if he was home.
That night I stayed in a small motel in Douglas and cooked fettucine alfredo (instant) on the front sidewalk while watching a massive lightening storm discharge across the north sky - fearsome. I was suffering from a crescent sunburn on my lower back below my camel (water pack) which I guess I didn't notice developing over the strain of pedalling. It was right through my shirt which gives you an idea of the sun. I have been using sunblock SPF70 since I toasted my nose a while back so this was an unpleasant surprise.
Next day brought the usual aches and stiffness but I wanted to get to Casper before the long week-end. I went through Glenrock (as did Kit Carson according to the sign), and visited some cart ruts which were in a small neighbourhood park. Half the day I biked Interstate 25, which Wyoming allows, and although it had two drawbacks - it goes over rather than around hills and the cars stink - the shoulder was wide and safe. The last half of the day I took the old highway which was a joy of solitude.
At four I coasted into the Royal Motel of Casper, and got four nights for $200. It's a friendly place with a bunch of Latino workers and their families staying here and sitting outside eating and drinking a lot. The truck in front of my unit has a green garbage bag for a side window and for the first time, I am not the only bike parked outside. Great water pressure though.
Neil and I leave on Wed. morning for Independence Rock and then on 100 miles to South Pass which straddles the continental divide and marks the half-way point of my journey. I can't believe how time has flown.
The western horizon has resolved from a dark blue shadow into a formidable range of big, big hills and everyone relishes telling me of the steep climb ahead. I guess like the settlers, we'll take it a step at a time and rest as much as required. It does look pretty intimidating, but the scenery promises to be beyond memorable.
love Laurence
ps Thanks Lee - great job on the map
ps John, the miracles are in the small stuff.
ps Laura - you are a most faithful friend
ps Col - I love you from Independence to Sacramento and back again (kidding about the back again)
ps Les - some must work, some must play
Scott - the food sucks - luckily my eating standards are very low - they match my cooking.
ps Clarkes - hi, no smart remarks?
ps Samsons - hi, there are more antelopes than people in Wyoming
Thursday, September 3, 2009
I was there - now I'm here
Dear All
Although in the last post, I was bemoaning my flat tire, I got the dinner and a movie after all - I went back to Sunny's Bike Shop and bought a puncture-proof tube - then bad Mexican followed by bad movie (Tarantino) - then a moon-lit ride back to the city campground next to the zoo. Funny falling asleep to the sound of a lion, or a jackal, or any large predator.
Wednesday, after being spoiled for days, I got a headwind. Hwy 26 into Wyoming was very busy and unpleasant with those Cheney lovers not giving an inch and the shoulder quite narrow by Nebraska standards. It was a thrill to see that Wyoming sign, though, and know I am inching along. In Torrington I found a bank which accepted my bankcard and now I am flush again. Access to money is a big concern for me since my Spanish fiasco. I have spent about $700 in the last 2 weeks which isn't much but then I have been living offbeat accommodations.
At the end of the day I was several miles west of Lingle in a campground (The Pony Soldier) owned by a woman from Naples, Florida. She invited me into the office, living room etc (It used to be a bar and her bedroom is the walk-in cooler) for chats and company. She got tired of Naple's congestion etc and now lives in the "Big Sky Country". The people camping next to me (Steve and I forget) came over to visit (everyone when they see the bike want to assure themselves I'm harmless) and told a great tale of their life. Lost jobs, house value in central Illinois approaching zero, they got work at a lodge in Jackson's Hole, Wyoming and were moving there to live in their 5th wheel - is this the American dream or what?
This morning a very early start as it is getting cold enough in the morning to see your breath and so I get up and move around. There was nowhere for coffee right through Fort Laramie (pop 250, elev 4200) so I went out to the historical site of the fort where they have several reconstructed buildings. Unlike Fort Kearney, many of the buildings were still standing (or leaning) and there is a sense of history. The only people there besides me were a couple from Bravaria, and I loved the solitude and the wind. There are no modern buildings around and you really get a sense of the isolation they experienced.
I went to the next town, Guernsey to see all the signatures carved into Register Cliff (today's graffiti is tomorrow's history) as well as the trail ruts. Then I ran out of steam at the thought of 30 more miles and hilly and 2 miles of this route would be gravel. Out of steam.
So I am camping at the town campsite beside the 10th hole of their golf course. My laundry is blowing in the wind beside where they get their carts. HaHa. There is a Mexican restaurant in town (I'm always hungry), and then to bed to dream of a light and fair easterly wind.
love
Laurence
ps Alain and Suzanne - roadkill today: 3 coyotes, 2 jackrabbits, 1 rattler (just the head).
ps Lee my access is 19471107 maybe you have to be administrator to post a link.
ps Andrew and Denise - why do people in Wyoming drive such big trucks?
ps Hi Kim, thanks for the note from you and Dad
ps Laura the poem is smashing. Thank you.
ps Scott and John - the Trailhead Museum in Independence sells books - one was
"The Donner party Cookbook"
ps Neil I'm probably going to take the bus to Vancouver since it is so much cheaper and I am on a fixed income seeing as how Ray won't pay union scale.
ps Colleen phone me 7 PM my time okay? I miss you
now all together everyone
The wheels on the bike go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
The wheels on the bike go round and round
Poppa's on the Trail.
L
Although in the last post, I was bemoaning my flat tire, I got the dinner and a movie after all - I went back to Sunny's Bike Shop and bought a puncture-proof tube - then bad Mexican followed by bad movie (Tarantino) - then a moon-lit ride back to the city campground next to the zoo. Funny falling asleep to the sound of a lion, or a jackal, or any large predator.
Wednesday, after being spoiled for days, I got a headwind. Hwy 26 into Wyoming was very busy and unpleasant with those Cheney lovers not giving an inch and the shoulder quite narrow by Nebraska standards. It was a thrill to see that Wyoming sign, though, and know I am inching along. In Torrington I found a bank which accepted my bankcard and now I am flush again. Access to money is a big concern for me since my Spanish fiasco. I have spent about $700 in the last 2 weeks which isn't much but then I have been living offbeat accommodations.
At the end of the day I was several miles west of Lingle in a campground (The Pony Soldier) owned by a woman from Naples, Florida. She invited me into the office, living room etc (It used to be a bar and her bedroom is the walk-in cooler) for chats and company. She got tired of Naple's congestion etc and now lives in the "Big Sky Country". The people camping next to me (Steve and I forget) came over to visit (everyone when they see the bike want to assure themselves I'm harmless) and told a great tale of their life. Lost jobs, house value in central Illinois approaching zero, they got work at a lodge in Jackson's Hole, Wyoming and were moving there to live in their 5th wheel - is this the American dream or what?
This morning a very early start as it is getting cold enough in the morning to see your breath and so I get up and move around. There was nowhere for coffee right through Fort Laramie (pop 250, elev 4200) so I went out to the historical site of the fort where they have several reconstructed buildings. Unlike Fort Kearney, many of the buildings were still standing (or leaning) and there is a sense of history. The only people there besides me were a couple from Bravaria, and I loved the solitude and the wind. There are no modern buildings around and you really get a sense of the isolation they experienced.
I went to the next town, Guernsey to see all the signatures carved into Register Cliff (today's graffiti is tomorrow's history) as well as the trail ruts. Then I ran out of steam at the thought of 30 more miles and hilly and 2 miles of this route would be gravel. Out of steam.
So I am camping at the town campsite beside the 10th hole of their golf course. My laundry is blowing in the wind beside where they get their carts. HaHa. There is a Mexican restaurant in town (I'm always hungry), and then to bed to dream of a light and fair easterly wind.
love
Laurence
ps Alain and Suzanne - roadkill today: 3 coyotes, 2 jackrabbits, 1 rattler (just the head).
ps Lee my access is 19471107 maybe you have to be administrator to post a link.
ps Andrew and Denise - why do people in Wyoming drive such big trucks?
ps Hi Kim, thanks for the note from you and Dad
ps Laura the poem is smashing. Thank you.
ps Scott and John - the Trailhead Museum in Independence sells books - one was
"The Donner party Cookbook"
ps Neil I'm probably going to take the bus to Vancouver since it is so much cheaper and I am on a fixed income seeing as how Ray won't pay union scale.
ps Colleen phone me 7 PM my time okay? I miss you
now all together everyone
The wheels on the bike go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
The wheels on the bike go round and round
Poppa's on the Trail.
L
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A Thorn by Any Name
View of my near future
More Scenery
Chimney Rock from the highway
Scott's Bluff (with the North Platte in the foreground)Dear All
Some call it Mexican Devil Weed, others Texan Goat Head. By any name, it's the reason I've been getting a flat every day or even more. It's a low creeper with a seed pod with two evil little prongs which dry to steel. So today in Scott's Bluff at Sonny's Bike Shop I bought a Kevlar rear tire. Ha Ha to you Mr. Devil. Later after setting up my tent in the municipal campground and just as I was entering the library parking lot - pssssssssssss - rats. Now I have to walk the bike all the way back to the campsite and my tools. Double rats. And I was thinking dinner and a movie - triple rats.
I left Ogallala after touring Boot Hill, which has been left wildish with great atmosphere, and "House on a Hill" which a rich Easterner build for his intended, I guess he built it here because business was calling him. Anyway, when the mansion was finished he returned east to find she had wed another - rats for him. I took Hwy 30 to California Hill where I met a couple from New Zealand who were biking San Fransisco to New York. They are the first long distance bikers I have met except for the indigent guy who was biking south ahead of the weather back in Blue Rapids. Then I took a lovely byway - Day Rd. north to meet Hwy 26 just before Ash Hollow Park which was a notable stop on the trail. The ruts are so pronounced there that they have become a ravine. I got .35$ worth of gas for the stove and then into Oshkosh for the night.
With nothing to amuse me, I went to the only thing open - the local gas station. Many of them have coffee, a microwave, and a few tables. There I struck up a conversation with Conrad who after retirement is driving the Lions Mobile Screening Unit around the state to schools and fairs. When he heard I was sleeping in the park, he invited me back to his room to shower and watch the game so although my football knowledge approaches absolute zero - I went and we had a pleasant evening chatting.
Next morning I ran into him at breakfast and as we watched, a Super Constellation on a series of flatbeds (fuselage on one, wings on another, engines and tail on others along with several escort vehicles) pulled up across the street. Apparently some group found it in front of a restaurant in Canada, took it to Rome NY for restoration, and were now in the process of moving it to it's resting place at Seattle's Museum of Aviation. It was funny to see the big Trans Canada Airlines sign on the side.
I biked Hwy26 all day making good time and arriving in Bridgeport after lunch. I stayed in a motel last night to do my laundry and groceries. Also the bike needed some work. I have broken spokes, loose spokes again, and slow leaks in both tires. Hey, I saw a live rattler this morning early. He was lying on the paved shoulder soaking up the sun and I just whizzed right on by before he knew what was happening. Which is just the way I like it.
Today my route was along old Hwy 92 past Chimney Rock and up to Scott's Bluff by way of Sonny's Bike Shop where he moved my seat forward to see if transferring more weight forward would help, and of course, put on the puncture-proof tire. That's it, that's all. You're right up to date. Oh elevation - Kansas City 750 ft. Scott's Bluff 3842 ft. so I'm climbing. South Pass is 7500 ft. (ouch). I am also now in Mountain Time and about 50 miles from the Wyoming border.
love
Laurence
ps Irene & Patrick - I lost your toothbrush, the socks I have safe
ps Andrew & Denise - what a great country you live in. I was biking through a little place called Melbeta today when I saw a converted gas station now selling rocks and coffee. I stopped to see about a cup and the grizzled old owner invited me in for free coffee so we sat and talked while his friends and family came and went. His partner is his sorta-grand-daughter who although somewhat limited physically by cerebral palsy has as he said "the eye of an eagle to spot that agate". He's leaving the business to her cause she loves it. Nice huh.
ps Ray you know wish you were here.
ps Margo - I always knew I could be some kind of example for Carmine.
ps Scott - wish you were here
ps Lee - teach the kids new verses to that old standard - the wheels on the bike go round and round, the seat on the bike goes bump bump bump etc.
ps Laura - my calves look like Popeye's forearms haha
ps Alain I will be very careful if it starts to rain and the ground liquefy. The big local lake McConaughy had shrunk by 70% up until this year when record rainfall has restored it somewhat. The amount of irrigation here is shocking. They use pivot watering to force agriculture on what until recently was only good for pasture land.
I left Ogallala after touring Boot Hill, which has been left wildish with great atmosphere, and "House on a Hill" which a rich Easterner build for his intended, I guess he built it here because business was calling him. Anyway, when the mansion was finished he returned east to find she had wed another - rats for him. I took Hwy 30 to California Hill where I met a couple from New Zealand who were biking San Fransisco to New York. They are the first long distance bikers I have met except for the indigent guy who was biking south ahead of the weather back in Blue Rapids. Then I took a lovely byway - Day Rd. north to meet Hwy 26 just before Ash Hollow Park which was a notable stop on the trail. The ruts are so pronounced there that they have become a ravine. I got .35$ worth of gas for the stove and then into Oshkosh for the night.
With nothing to amuse me, I went to the only thing open - the local gas station. Many of them have coffee, a microwave, and a few tables. There I struck up a conversation with Conrad who after retirement is driving the Lions Mobile Screening Unit around the state to schools and fairs. When he heard I was sleeping in the park, he invited me back to his room to shower and watch the game so although my football knowledge approaches absolute zero - I went and we had a pleasant evening chatting.
Next morning I ran into him at breakfast and as we watched, a Super Constellation on a series of flatbeds (fuselage on one, wings on another, engines and tail on others along with several escort vehicles) pulled up across the street. Apparently some group found it in front of a restaurant in Canada, took it to Rome NY for restoration, and were now in the process of moving it to it's resting place at Seattle's Museum of Aviation. It was funny to see the big Trans Canada Airlines sign on the side.
I biked Hwy26 all day making good time and arriving in Bridgeport after lunch. I stayed in a motel last night to do my laundry and groceries. Also the bike needed some work. I have broken spokes, loose spokes again, and slow leaks in both tires. Hey, I saw a live rattler this morning early. He was lying on the paved shoulder soaking up the sun and I just whizzed right on by before he knew what was happening. Which is just the way I like it.
Today my route was along old Hwy 92 past Chimney Rock and up to Scott's Bluff by way of Sonny's Bike Shop where he moved my seat forward to see if transferring more weight forward would help, and of course, put on the puncture-proof tire. That's it, that's all. You're right up to date. Oh elevation - Kansas City 750 ft. Scott's Bluff 3842 ft. so I'm climbing. South Pass is 7500 ft. (ouch). I am also now in Mountain Time and about 50 miles from the Wyoming border.
love
Laurence
ps Irene & Patrick - I lost your toothbrush, the socks I have safe
ps Andrew & Denise - what a great country you live in. I was biking through a little place called Melbeta today when I saw a converted gas station now selling rocks and coffee. I stopped to see about a cup and the grizzled old owner invited me in for free coffee so we sat and talked while his friends and family came and went. His partner is his sorta-grand-daughter who although somewhat limited physically by cerebral palsy has as he said "the eye of an eagle to spot that agate". He's leaving the business to her cause she loves it. Nice huh.
ps Ray you know wish you were here.
ps Margo - I always knew I could be some kind of example for Carmine.
ps Scott - wish you were here
ps Lee - teach the kids new verses to that old standard - the wheels on the bike go round and round, the seat on the bike goes bump bump bump etc.
ps Laura - my calves look like Popeye's forearms haha
ps Alain I will be very careful if it starts to rain and the ground liquefy. The big local lake McConaughy had shrunk by 70% up until this year when record rainfall has restored it somewhat. The amount of irrigation here is shocking. They use pivot watering to force agriculture on what until recently was only good for pasture land.
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