Many of you have noticed that our blog posts, well, stopped after July 4th. You can take that as a solid indicator that we've been having a really, really good time. Also, for those who are interested in an update on Erin "Tough Guy" Bougie, she is doing really great - she even rode her bike today, after spending a few days without the neck brace. We van drivers will miss her company, but we're all so happy that she's doing better.
There are a few posts below which can give you an idea of some of the great stuff we've seen and done, but some of the best things aren't included because, well, we were having too much fun at the time to really think about writing a blog entry. Here's a quick summary:
July 6th: We rode into Hartville, WY (population 75), where we were fed incredible food by incredibly nice people for two full days. Our day off was sooo relaxing - we enjoyed visiting the oldest bar in Wyoming, and taking a trip to a nearby park where we swam, picknicked, and gave our bodies a break. Thanks also to the Yale club of Denver, who donated the delicious food which was very deliciously prepared by the wonderful folks in Hartville.
July 11th: We rode into Lander, WY, which was the biggest place we'd seen in a while. This was the day that Erin was injured, so we were all feeling pretty rough, but the town was lovely, and the church folks were so wonderful and supportive. Erin was kept overnight at a hospital in Casper, so while Darrow, Niko, Brian, and Saskia chilled with her there, the rest of us took an unexpected day off in Lander. The town was a lot of fun, especially since a huge climbing festival had just begun. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, we had a good day. We were so overjoyed when the van returned with a neck-braced Erin that an impromptu parking lot dance party ensued. We also owe a huge thank-you to the wonderful people in DuBois, who we were never able to meet because we were delayed by the hospital visit. They were so understanding and caring - they even left the picnic dinner they'd prepared us in the fridge so we could enjoy it when we arrived (which for many of us wasn't until two in the morning).
July 13th-16th: We were in the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, which were amazing. At different times and in different groups, we hiked, canoed, swam, drank good coffee, saw Old Faithful, made s'mores, ate spaghetti off of Frisbee plates (thank you Youngsville!), went whitewater rafting, and saw an Imax movie about bears.
July 21st: We rode into Missoula, MT, which we'd long been looking forward to - some of us may have been expecting the streets to be lined with granola, and the faucets to flow with espresso. It was indeed a great hippy/outdoorsy/college town, and we had an awesome time tubing, checking out the sights, and hanging out with the wonderful people at the First Baptist Church who made us feel right at home.
So, that's the highlights reel. Tonight we're in Pomeroy, Washington (our first Pacific coast state!), and the people at Pomeroy Church of the Nazarene are really spoiling us. Dinner was awesome, and we're having a great time with the video games, pool tables, and big-screen TV in the church's basement.
Keeping it real,
Jessalee Landfried
Thursday, July 26, 2007
July 20th: Wisdom, MT to Hamilton, MT
Wisdom, Montana is home to 150 people and sits 6050 feet above sea level. These are things I had to look up online because Montana’s road signs, unlike their counterparts in Wyoming, do not tell you these things. Mountain passes tend not to be labeled, either, which is frustrating when you come to a crest in the road and think it’s the top but have no way of knowing for sure because there’s no sign, and then you go around a bend and discover that you have another thousand feet to climb and only two miles to do it. The two most fun facts concerning Wisdom, Montana, though, are the following: this town scoffs at the idea of named streets, and it boasts a single church called The Church of the Big Hole. Riding in yesterday, we had fun imagining what this intriguing name might mean. You can guess the sorts of explanations we produced, but the true meaning is only moderately thrilling: Wisdom is in the middle of a plain bordered by mountains on all sides, so this plain is essentially a big hole in the earth. It’s called, not surprisingly, Big Hole Valley. Tricky, those pioneers.
Now, the problem with Big Hole Valley is that with mountains on all sides, water collects on the plain around Wisdom, and when to that you add temperatures near 100oF, you get mosquitoes. When we got up at 6:30 AM this morning (late, by HBC standards), few of us had gotten more than three hours of sleep thanks to a concerted effort by the mosquitoes and the heat to make us as uncomfortable as possible. Those of us who had slept in the church sanctuary woke up in a sweat bath; the few who had slept outside escaped the heat but awoke drenched in rain and dew. At breakfast it became apparent just how lightly some of us had slept when tales of Rob’s early-morning somnambulating surfaced from multiple witnesses. At least three lengthy outbursts of sleep-talking, including an entire one-sided conversation from Brooke, had also been overheard––a rough night overall, but certainly not the fault of The Church of the Big Hole. (Curse you, global warming. Curse you.)
Filling up water bottles after breakfast presented a problem: the tap water smelled an awful lot like sulfur, and questions arose as to whether it was potable at all. Some riders took their chances and went ahead with the tap water while others took the last of the water from the coolers that had accompanied dinner the night before and which had apparently been filled elsewhere, since that water tasted fine. These two things may not be related, but within an hour Kathleen was throwing up and had to ride in the van for the rest of the day. I don’t know if she drank the tap water or the cooler water, but other people were certainly feeling ill as well, while still others, including people who drank from the tap, felt fine. Quite the mystery.
To get out of any big hole, you must climb. One of the ways to climb out of the Big Hole is to follow Route 43 west out of Wisdom towards the Beaverhead Mountains; up, up, up the Beaverhead Mountains; and over Chief Joseph Pass, which, of course, features no sign of any type to mark it. We went this way. However, as we rode across Big Hole Valley towards the Beaverhead Mountains, we couldn’t actually see them for the thick screen of smoke that obscured them from view until we were right at their feet. I’ve been told that seven western states, including this one, are currently on fire and that this is where all the smoke is coming from. My eyes have been stinging for days because of it. Apparently smoke is a common feature of the Montana summer, but typically not until August. This summer has been unusually hot (we know this well, believe me), hence the smoke in July. (Again, curse you, global warming.)
For the first part of the ride along Route 43, I rode with Rob and Lindsay, though I wasn’t technically with them because I decided I would keep a distance of at least one Greyhound bus between us. Odd, yes, but I’ve decided I must do this because the other day, going into Virginia City, I was shocked to learn that some people make negative assumptions when followed closely by another rider. Now, when I ride right behind someone, I’m usually thinking, “Well, I could probably go faster, but I’m not going to pass this person because then I’d be riding alone and that’s not safe.” Similarly, when someone comes up right behind me, I think, “Uh-oh, I’m going too slow and holding this person back, and the only reason they’re not passing me is because they don’t want to ride alone.” Throughout the summer I imagined that this is what everyone else thinks when they’ve got another rider on their heels, but apparently that’s not the case at all, for when I rode right on someone’s heels on the road to Virginia City, I was accused of doing it just so I could draft off this person and not have to work as hard against the headwind. It had never occurred to me that someone might think such a thing. So, as opposed to my perhaps naïve and self-deprecating assumption that when someone rides immediately behind me it’s me holding them back, other people are thinking to themselves, “This person behind me is riding on my heels so that my speed will pull them along.” I don’t want anyone to think that I’m a freeloader, so I will keep my distance from now on and fight headwinds myself, unless I’m invited into a paceline. (In a paceline, people ride in a close line and take turns riding at the front to “pull” the rest of the group against the headwind. This allows the group as a whole to go faster in a headwind over longer periods of time than any one rider normally could. One way I amuse myself now is by keeping up with pacelining groups without actually joining them or getting anywhere near them––it’s sort of my own mini bicycle challenge.)
Somewhere on the plain between Wisdom and the Beaverhead Mountains, we happened upon the Big Hole National Battlefield. Most of the group stopped at the visitor center to check it out. The National Park Service lady who worked there was especially accommodating and let us watch a 27-minute video on the battle at an irregular time slot, “because you’ve got a high pass to climb over and a fun downhill to get to,” she said. The video left me depressed and in a bad mood. I won’t get into too much detail, but basically what happened was that in 1877, a few bands of Nez Perce Indians decided to head east into Montana rather than following government orders to move onto a tiny reservation in Idaho that had recently been reduced to one-tenth its original size. (We’re actually going to be staying on this reservation when we get to Kooskia.) In response, the government ordered U.S. troops to pursue these “nontreaty” bands of Nez Perce. The troops attacked the Indians’ camp in the Big Hole Valley one night, killing mostly women and children before the men were able to rout the soldiers and allow the surviving family members to escape with the few possessions they could grab from the melee. It was another embarrassing anecdote from that chapter in American history, and I needed the imminent climb to take my mind off it.
Going into the Beaverhead Mountains, we entered Beaverhead National Forest, which you surely would find stunning if you could get your mind off the six or seven bees that have been pursuing you for the last mile. (Is it our yellow jerseys that attract them, or does our body odor really smell like flowers as we like to believe?) Somewhere in the forest, on the gentle incline before the steep climb to the pass, we happened upon the older gentleman we had met the previous evening in Wisdom. In spite of his age (he’s 70-ish), he’s riding his bicycle from his home in Arkansas all the way to the Oregon coast, making him one of the few east-to-west bikers we’ve met (most go west to east, with the wind), and certainly the oldest. Rather than doing the whole trip in one go, though, he’s broken it into segments, and he spends a few weeks doing each segment before returning home. This staccato approach to biking 4000 miles means it’s actually taken him three years to get this far. (Some people do have real lives, we realize.) He can’t go up steep hills––doctor’s orders––so his wife, who follows him in a truck pulling a trailer that supposedly contains a bed, waited for him at the base of the climb to Chief Joseph Pass to shuttle him up. Most of us OTers, on the other hand, despite having the same luxury available (our lovely van), chose to attack the mountain on the strength of our own two legs. The climb turned out to be only moderately difficult––about the same grade as the climb over the pass on the way to Virginia City, but requiring us to gain only 1000 feet in elevation as opposed to 2000. I rode up next to Rob and was surprised to make it to the top of the pass without sustaining a bee sting. At the pass we ate a quick snack as a group and the bid farewell to the continental divide for the last time before sailing down the other side at over 30 miles per hour. (It was fun, as the National Park Service lady had said.) Rob got some people to join him in a Super Special Mile coming down from the pass, but I did not take part, unfortunately.
Route 43 came to an end at the Idaho border, so we turned north onto Highway 93 towards Hamilton and Missoula. The steep downhill that had begun on Route 43 at the pass continued for a good distance along 93 as well, so we were able to average 30 miles per hour for perhaps ten miles, losing several thousand feet of altitude before the road flattened out. At that point we found ourselves following a northbound river with the Bitterroot Mountains rising up immediately on both sides of us. Around mile 45 we happened upon a lone restaurant that apparently opens only at night, so we took the liberty of claiming its shaded deck as our lunch spot for the day. The van arrived with our food shortly thereafter, and by that time the number of people in it had swollen to seven (including Jessalee, today’s driver), an impressive figure but still short of yesterday’s record of nine. Then again, two of yesterday’s nine were riding in the van not because they were sick, tired, or injured, but because they simply didn’t feel like riding, so I almost feel like that record doesn’t count. Today’s seven included Kathleen, who, as I mentioned before, got ill towards the beginning of the ride; David, who had had to induce vomiting after a sprint on his bike and had subsequently suffered an allergic reaction when climbing stacks of hay; and a few other riders who were just worn out.
I ate lunch rather quickly and ended up being in the first group to leave, along with Severin and John. Seeing that it was already 2:00 and that the afternoon had brought with it a brutal headwind, we decided that the only way we’d be able to make it to the church on time would be by pacelining the last 30 miles into Hamilton. So, in spite of the headwind, we were able to average 20 mph, arriving at Faith Lutheran Church right at 3:30. The pastor welcomed us and led the three of us to the showers, which were actually right at the church––a rare treat, having showers “on premises.” By the time I got out of the shower a good portion of the group had arrived, though Alex (today’s sweep) and a few others didn’t make it in until after 4:30, which is technically later than we’re supposed to be on the road, but concessions are made if you’re close enough. At 5:00 we had a wonderful dinner provided by church members, gave a slide show presentation, and then moved to a front room where the group of riders who had managed to make a post office run between arriving, showering, and eating had lain out our eagerly anticipated mail. Among the dozens of packages piled on the table was one containing edible goodies from our prayer partners back in Youngsville, Pennsylvania, which we were so grateful to receive! David got a fun magazine that he secretly dismembered and redistributed so that each of us, upon rummaging through his or her bag, would be surprised to find a page or two just for him or her. This provided many hours of amusement.
Around 7:00 I walked outside to make some phone calls. Not surprisingly, I found about a third of the group on the lawn doing precisely the same thing. This is an HBC evening ritual. I myself clocked about two hours on my cell phone. At one point a dog appeared out of nowhere and bounded up to me. His name was Hank and he did not know how to sit. After I got off the phone I played with him for a bit before calling the number on his collar to inform his owner that she was missing a dog. I stayed out just long enough to see Hank off but then had to go inside because the smoke from the forest fires was too much for my eyes. I decided to hit the sack, but there were snorers in the room where I had set up my sleeping situation, so I moved my stuff from a space beneath a table in that room to a space between spare pulpits and stacks of bibles and Sunday school supplies in a closet. A night of perfect sleep will certainly be had.
On a note totally unrelated to today’s activities, I would like to mention that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final book in the epic and majestic series, comes out at midnight tonight. So, by this time tomorrow, thousands of people will have read it (including some acquaintances of mine who are, er, dedicated), and they will know the boy wizard’s ultimate fate. Meanwhile I remain in painful ignorance, my fresh UK edition sitting unopened on my bed at home because I pre-ordered it before I knew I would be on a bike thousands of miles away when it arrived. Making it through the next three weeks without having the ending inadvertently spoiled for me will be the real challenge of this trip.
Hamilton, by the way, has a population of 4443 and an elevation of 3572 feet. Now, fondly, good night.
-Clay Chiles
Now, the problem with Big Hole Valley is that with mountains on all sides, water collects on the plain around Wisdom, and when to that you add temperatures near 100oF, you get mosquitoes. When we got up at 6:30 AM this morning (late, by HBC standards), few of us had gotten more than three hours of sleep thanks to a concerted effort by the mosquitoes and the heat to make us as uncomfortable as possible. Those of us who had slept in the church sanctuary woke up in a sweat bath; the few who had slept outside escaped the heat but awoke drenched in rain and dew. At breakfast it became apparent just how lightly some of us had slept when tales of Rob’s early-morning somnambulating surfaced from multiple witnesses. At least three lengthy outbursts of sleep-talking, including an entire one-sided conversation from Brooke, had also been overheard––a rough night overall, but certainly not the fault of The Church of the Big Hole. (Curse you, global warming. Curse you.)
Filling up water bottles after breakfast presented a problem: the tap water smelled an awful lot like sulfur, and questions arose as to whether it was potable at all. Some riders took their chances and went ahead with the tap water while others took the last of the water from the coolers that had accompanied dinner the night before and which had apparently been filled elsewhere, since that water tasted fine. These two things may not be related, but within an hour Kathleen was throwing up and had to ride in the van for the rest of the day. I don’t know if she drank the tap water or the cooler water, but other people were certainly feeling ill as well, while still others, including people who drank from the tap, felt fine. Quite the mystery.
To get out of any big hole, you must climb. One of the ways to climb out of the Big Hole is to follow Route 43 west out of Wisdom towards the Beaverhead Mountains; up, up, up the Beaverhead Mountains; and over Chief Joseph Pass, which, of course, features no sign of any type to mark it. We went this way. However, as we rode across Big Hole Valley towards the Beaverhead Mountains, we couldn’t actually see them for the thick screen of smoke that obscured them from view until we were right at their feet. I’ve been told that seven western states, including this one, are currently on fire and that this is where all the smoke is coming from. My eyes have been stinging for days because of it. Apparently smoke is a common feature of the Montana summer, but typically not until August. This summer has been unusually hot (we know this well, believe me), hence the smoke in July. (Again, curse you, global warming.)
For the first part of the ride along Route 43, I rode with Rob and Lindsay, though I wasn’t technically with them because I decided I would keep a distance of at least one Greyhound bus between us. Odd, yes, but I’ve decided I must do this because the other day, going into Virginia City, I was shocked to learn that some people make negative assumptions when followed closely by another rider. Now, when I ride right behind someone, I’m usually thinking, “Well, I could probably go faster, but I’m not going to pass this person because then I’d be riding alone and that’s not safe.” Similarly, when someone comes up right behind me, I think, “Uh-oh, I’m going too slow and holding this person back, and the only reason they’re not passing me is because they don’t want to ride alone.” Throughout the summer I imagined that this is what everyone else thinks when they’ve got another rider on their heels, but apparently that’s not the case at all, for when I rode right on someone’s heels on the road to Virginia City, I was accused of doing it just so I could draft off this person and not have to work as hard against the headwind. It had never occurred to me that someone might think such a thing. So, as opposed to my perhaps naïve and self-deprecating assumption that when someone rides immediately behind me it’s me holding them back, other people are thinking to themselves, “This person behind me is riding on my heels so that my speed will pull them along.” I don’t want anyone to think that I’m a freeloader, so I will keep my distance from now on and fight headwinds myself, unless I’m invited into a paceline. (In a paceline, people ride in a close line and take turns riding at the front to “pull” the rest of the group against the headwind. This allows the group as a whole to go faster in a headwind over longer periods of time than any one rider normally could. One way I amuse myself now is by keeping up with pacelining groups without actually joining them or getting anywhere near them––it’s sort of my own mini bicycle challenge.)
Somewhere on the plain between Wisdom and the Beaverhead Mountains, we happened upon the Big Hole National Battlefield. Most of the group stopped at the visitor center to check it out. The National Park Service lady who worked there was especially accommodating and let us watch a 27-minute video on the battle at an irregular time slot, “because you’ve got a high pass to climb over and a fun downhill to get to,” she said. The video left me depressed and in a bad mood. I won’t get into too much detail, but basically what happened was that in 1877, a few bands of Nez Perce Indians decided to head east into Montana rather than following government orders to move onto a tiny reservation in Idaho that had recently been reduced to one-tenth its original size. (We’re actually going to be staying on this reservation when we get to Kooskia.) In response, the government ordered U.S. troops to pursue these “nontreaty” bands of Nez Perce. The troops attacked the Indians’ camp in the Big Hole Valley one night, killing mostly women and children before the men were able to rout the soldiers and allow the surviving family members to escape with the few possessions they could grab from the melee. It was another embarrassing anecdote from that chapter in American history, and I needed the imminent climb to take my mind off it.
Going into the Beaverhead Mountains, we entered Beaverhead National Forest, which you surely would find stunning if you could get your mind off the six or seven bees that have been pursuing you for the last mile. (Is it our yellow jerseys that attract them, or does our body odor really smell like flowers as we like to believe?) Somewhere in the forest, on the gentle incline before the steep climb to the pass, we happened upon the older gentleman we had met the previous evening in Wisdom. In spite of his age (he’s 70-ish), he’s riding his bicycle from his home in Arkansas all the way to the Oregon coast, making him one of the few east-to-west bikers we’ve met (most go west to east, with the wind), and certainly the oldest. Rather than doing the whole trip in one go, though, he’s broken it into segments, and he spends a few weeks doing each segment before returning home. This staccato approach to biking 4000 miles means it’s actually taken him three years to get this far. (Some people do have real lives, we realize.) He can’t go up steep hills––doctor’s orders––so his wife, who follows him in a truck pulling a trailer that supposedly contains a bed, waited for him at the base of the climb to Chief Joseph Pass to shuttle him up. Most of us OTers, on the other hand, despite having the same luxury available (our lovely van), chose to attack the mountain on the strength of our own two legs. The climb turned out to be only moderately difficult––about the same grade as the climb over the pass on the way to Virginia City, but requiring us to gain only 1000 feet in elevation as opposed to 2000. I rode up next to Rob and was surprised to make it to the top of the pass without sustaining a bee sting. At the pass we ate a quick snack as a group and the bid farewell to the continental divide for the last time before sailing down the other side at over 30 miles per hour. (It was fun, as the National Park Service lady had said.) Rob got some people to join him in a Super Special Mile coming down from the pass, but I did not take part, unfortunately.
Route 43 came to an end at the Idaho border, so we turned north onto Highway 93 towards Hamilton and Missoula. The steep downhill that had begun on Route 43 at the pass continued for a good distance along 93 as well, so we were able to average 30 miles per hour for perhaps ten miles, losing several thousand feet of altitude before the road flattened out. At that point we found ourselves following a northbound river with the Bitterroot Mountains rising up immediately on both sides of us. Around mile 45 we happened upon a lone restaurant that apparently opens only at night, so we took the liberty of claiming its shaded deck as our lunch spot for the day. The van arrived with our food shortly thereafter, and by that time the number of people in it had swollen to seven (including Jessalee, today’s driver), an impressive figure but still short of yesterday’s record of nine. Then again, two of yesterday’s nine were riding in the van not because they were sick, tired, or injured, but because they simply didn’t feel like riding, so I almost feel like that record doesn’t count. Today’s seven included Kathleen, who, as I mentioned before, got ill towards the beginning of the ride; David, who had had to induce vomiting after a sprint on his bike and had subsequently suffered an allergic reaction when climbing stacks of hay; and a few other riders who were just worn out.
I ate lunch rather quickly and ended up being in the first group to leave, along with Severin and John. Seeing that it was already 2:00 and that the afternoon had brought with it a brutal headwind, we decided that the only way we’d be able to make it to the church on time would be by pacelining the last 30 miles into Hamilton. So, in spite of the headwind, we were able to average 20 mph, arriving at Faith Lutheran Church right at 3:30. The pastor welcomed us and led the three of us to the showers, which were actually right at the church––a rare treat, having showers “on premises.” By the time I got out of the shower a good portion of the group had arrived, though Alex (today’s sweep) and a few others didn’t make it in until after 4:30, which is technically later than we’re supposed to be on the road, but concessions are made if you’re close enough. At 5:00 we had a wonderful dinner provided by church members, gave a slide show presentation, and then moved to a front room where the group of riders who had managed to make a post office run between arriving, showering, and eating had lain out our eagerly anticipated mail. Among the dozens of packages piled on the table was one containing edible goodies from our prayer partners back in Youngsville, Pennsylvania, which we were so grateful to receive! David got a fun magazine that he secretly dismembered and redistributed so that each of us, upon rummaging through his or her bag, would be surprised to find a page or two just for him or her. This provided many hours of amusement.
Around 7:00 I walked outside to make some phone calls. Not surprisingly, I found about a third of the group on the lawn doing precisely the same thing. This is an HBC evening ritual. I myself clocked about two hours on my cell phone. At one point a dog appeared out of nowhere and bounded up to me. His name was Hank and he did not know how to sit. After I got off the phone I played with him for a bit before calling the number on his collar to inform his owner that she was missing a dog. I stayed out just long enough to see Hank off but then had to go inside because the smoke from the forest fires was too much for my eyes. I decided to hit the sack, but there were snorers in the room where I had set up my sleeping situation, so I moved my stuff from a space beneath a table in that room to a space between spare pulpits and stacks of bibles and Sunday school supplies in a closet. A night of perfect sleep will certainly be had.
On a note totally unrelated to today’s activities, I would like to mention that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final book in the epic and majestic series, comes out at midnight tonight. So, by this time tomorrow, thousands of people will have read it (including some acquaintances of mine who are, er, dedicated), and they will know the boy wizard’s ultimate fate. Meanwhile I remain in painful ignorance, my fresh UK edition sitting unopened on my bed at home because I pre-ordered it before I knew I would be on a bike thousands of miles away when it arrived. Making it through the next three weeks without having the ending inadvertently spoiled for me will be the real challenge of this trip.
Hamilton, by the way, has a population of 4443 and an elevation of 3572 feet. Now, fondly, good night.
-Clay Chiles
July 18th: Virginia City, MT to Dillon, MT
We left the cozy comforts of Virginia City and set off for Dillon, MT. We had a smooth ride and stopped for lunch at the front of the Potter Ranch. We arrived in Dillon a bit early and explored the sights. Many of us enjoyed easily the best Mexican food of the trip at a bus that had been converted into a restaurant. Yummy burritos! We also found a Patagonia outlet store where some of us scored some great bargains. The dinner crew led by Darrow made awesome homemade pizza for dinner that we inhaled. We then settled in for the night, ready for another great day on the road.
And as an added bonus, a glossary of HBC Central terms:
Headwind – (n.) – the thing I dread the most. A harsh wind in our faces that slows us down considerably.
Altitude – (n.) – the number of feet above sea level we have climbed. I think our highest has been over 9300!
Brodeo, the – (n.) – the nickname for a group of the boys, who often do some silly things like carry spears and shields on their backs while riding.
Ice cream – (n.) – our favorite treat after a long day on the road. Virginia City may have had the best ice cream so far.
Trailer – (n.) – our beloved carrier of food, bags, and assorted things. It is blue and wonderfully painted by our leaders.
America, The United States of – (n.) – that large country we are crossing, which continues to surprise and impress me.
Team – (n.) – the term of affection we have for each other (probably started by Brian), even though this is not in any way, shape, or form, a competition. If it were, we would have lost.
Brew, micro – (n.) – I am a bit of a beer snob and love microbrews, which are beers that are made by local, small breweries. When we hit Chicago I was excited because I could then obtain my favorite, Fat Tire, and am always on the lookout for something new and great to try. Yum!
Interstates – (n.) – Don’t worry folks, we stay off these massive streets that are flooded with cars. We stick to the smaller highways. They are so much prettier.
Chart, the – (n.) – a powerpoint presentation that won me the Talent Show.
You – (n.) – every person that reads this blog, donated to Habitat, provided us with food, warmth, and shelter, wonders where we are, sends us goodies and cards on maildrops, and helps us spread the word about the good work of Habitat. Thanks to you for helping make this venture successful!
Chapstick – (n.) – the term we use with each other when we may say something we shouldn’t in churches. Oops!
Leaders - (n.) – Darrow, Jessalee, Niko, and Rob. The wonderful people who make this thing happen.
Early - (adj.) – As in the time of day we get up and hit the road. Usually we get up around 6. Yikes!
Chamois - (n.) – the pad on our spandex shorts. So important.
Haystack – (n.) – large collections of hay, that we frequently saw in Nebraska. The Brodeo enjoys climbing these, but this often results in rashes.
Alps – (n.) – a considerably harder challenge than the Rockies, which have kicked our butts.
Lunch – (n.) – a meal we eat on the road, which usually consists of peanut butter and jelly, any goodies that have been sent to maildrops, and if we are lucky, leftovers. I try to be as creative as possible when creating my lunch because PBJ is not really my thing.
Lack – (adj.) – as in “lack of employment.” There are a few of us who do not yet have jobs when we are done with this little adventure. So if you are looking for a journalist, social worker, environmental activist, etc. please contact one of us and we will happily be your paid employee.
Estrogen, Team – (n.) – a nickname given to some of the women on the trip as they ride together.
Nebrastika Fantastika – (n.) – Darrow’s name for our time in the great state of Nebraska. She (and others) organized some fun activities like the Talent Show and a photo scavenger hunt.
Gender – (n.) – As in “Gender is an illusion”. A phrase that Sara and Shira have reminded us of repeatedly, often with the use of chalk.
Elevation – (n.) – again, how high we are, which is directly proportional to the amount of oxygen in the air. Less oxygen = harder!
Oregon – (n.) – the great state we are quickly heading towards and which I called home for 5 years.
Town hall – (n.) – A weekly meeting in which we talk about any issues that have come up.
(v.) – to call someone out on something at the townhall meeting.
And as a side note, we love people leaving comments on blogs. In fact, particularly funny, witty, critical, and ridiculous comments are quickly known throughout the group. So if you seek infamy, please charm us with your wit and dazzle us with your prose. And more importantly, call people out!
-Rebecca Rebbe
And as an added bonus, a glossary of HBC Central terms:
Headwind – (n.) – the thing I dread the most. A harsh wind in our faces that slows us down considerably.
Altitude – (n.) – the number of feet above sea level we have climbed. I think our highest has been over 9300!
Brodeo, the – (n.) – the nickname for a group of the boys, who often do some silly things like carry spears and shields on their backs while riding.
Ice cream – (n.) – our favorite treat after a long day on the road. Virginia City may have had the best ice cream so far.
Trailer – (n.) – our beloved carrier of food, bags, and assorted things. It is blue and wonderfully painted by our leaders.
America, The United States of – (n.) – that large country we are crossing, which continues to surprise and impress me.
Team – (n.) – the term of affection we have for each other (probably started by Brian), even though this is not in any way, shape, or form, a competition. If it were, we would have lost.
Brew, micro – (n.) – I am a bit of a beer snob and love microbrews, which are beers that are made by local, small breweries. When we hit Chicago I was excited because I could then obtain my favorite, Fat Tire, and am always on the lookout for something new and great to try. Yum!
Interstates – (n.) – Don’t worry folks, we stay off these massive streets that are flooded with cars. We stick to the smaller highways. They are so much prettier.
Chart, the – (n.) – a powerpoint presentation that won me the Talent Show.
You – (n.) – every person that reads this blog, donated to Habitat, provided us with food, warmth, and shelter, wonders where we are, sends us goodies and cards on maildrops, and helps us spread the word about the good work of Habitat. Thanks to you for helping make this venture successful!
Chapstick – (n.) – the term we use with each other when we may say something we shouldn’t in churches. Oops!
Leaders - (n.) – Darrow, Jessalee, Niko, and Rob. The wonderful people who make this thing happen.
Early - (adj.) – As in the time of day we get up and hit the road. Usually we get up around 6. Yikes!
Chamois - (n.) – the pad on our spandex shorts. So important.
Haystack – (n.) – large collections of hay, that we frequently saw in Nebraska. The Brodeo enjoys climbing these, but this often results in rashes.
Alps – (n.) – a considerably harder challenge than the Rockies, which have kicked our butts.
Lunch – (n.) – a meal we eat on the road, which usually consists of peanut butter and jelly, any goodies that have been sent to maildrops, and if we are lucky, leftovers. I try to be as creative as possible when creating my lunch because PBJ is not really my thing.
Lack – (adj.) – as in “lack of employment.” There are a few of us who do not yet have jobs when we are done with this little adventure. So if you are looking for a journalist, social worker, environmental activist, etc. please contact one of us and we will happily be your paid employee.
Estrogen, Team – (n.) – a nickname given to some of the women on the trip as they ride together.
Nebrastika Fantastika – (n.) – Darrow’s name for our time in the great state of Nebraska. She (and others) organized some fun activities like the Talent Show and a photo scavenger hunt.
Gender – (n.) – As in “Gender is an illusion”. A phrase that Sara and Shira have reminded us of repeatedly, often with the use of chalk.
Elevation – (n.) – again, how high we are, which is directly proportional to the amount of oxygen in the air. Less oxygen = harder!
Oregon – (n.) – the great state we are quickly heading towards and which I called home for 5 years.
Town hall – (n.) – A weekly meeting in which we talk about any issues that have come up.
(v.) – to call someone out on something at the townhall meeting.
And as a side note, we love people leaving comments on blogs. In fact, particularly funny, witty, critical, and ridiculous comments are quickly known throughout the group. So if you seek infamy, please charm us with your wit and dazzle us with your prose. And more importantly, call people out!
-Rebecca Rebbe
Editor's note!
Many of you have noticed that our blog posts, well, stopped after July 4th. You can take that as a solid indicator that we've been having a really, really good time. Also, for those who are interested in an update on Erin "Tough Guy" Bougie, she is doing really great - she even rode her bike today, after spending a few days without the neck brace. We van drivers will miss her company, but we're all so happy that she's doing better.
There are a few posts below which can give you an idea of some of the great stuff we've seen and done, but some of the best things aren't included because, well, we were having too much fun at the time to really think about writing a blog entry. Here's a quick summary:
July 6th: We rode into Hartville, WY (population 75), where we were fed incredible food by incredibly nice people for two full days. Our day off was sooo relaxing - we enjoyed visiting the oldest bar in Wyoming, and taking a trip to a nearby park where we swam, picknicked, and gave our bodies a break. Thanks also to the Yale club of Denver, who donated the delicious food which was very deliciously prepared by the wonderful folks in Hartville.
July 11th: We rode into Lander, WY, which was the biggest place we'd seen in a while. This was the day that Erin was injured, so we were all feeling pretty rough, but the town was lovely, and the church folks were so wonderful and supportive. Erin was kept overnight at a hospital in Casper, so while Darrow, Niko, Brian, and Saskia chilled with her there, the rest of us took an unexpected day off in Lander. The town was a lot of fun, especially since a huge climbing festival had just begun. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, we had a good day. We were so overjoyed when the van returned with a neck-braced Erin that an impromptu parking lot dance party ensued.
July 13th-16th: We were in the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, which were amazing. At different times and in different groups, we hiked, canoed, swam, drank good coffee, saw Old Faithful, made s'mores, ate spaghetti off of Frisbee plates (thank you Youngsville!), went whitewater rafting, and saw an Imax movie about bears.
July 21st: We rode into Missoula, MT, which we'd long been looking forward to - some of us may have been expecting the streets to be lined with granola, and the faucets to flow with espresso. It was indeed a great hippy/outdoorsy/college town, and we had an awesome time tubing, checking out the sights, and hanging out with the wonderful people at the First Baptist Church who made us feel right at home.
So, that's the highlights reel. Tonight we're in Pomeroy, Washington (our first Pacific coast state!), and the people at Pomeroy Church of the Nazarene are really spoiling us. Dinner was awesome, and we're having a great time with the video games, pool tables, and big-screen TV in the church's basement.
Keeping it real,
Jessalee Landfried
There are a few posts below which can give you an idea of some of the great stuff we've seen and done, but some of the best things aren't included because, well, we were having too much fun at the time to really think about writing a blog entry. Here's a quick summary:
July 6th: We rode into Hartville, WY (population 75), where we were fed incredible food by incredibly nice people for two full days. Our day off was sooo relaxing - we enjoyed visiting the oldest bar in Wyoming, and taking a trip to a nearby park where we swam, picknicked, and gave our bodies a break. Thanks also to the Yale club of Denver, who donated the delicious food which was very deliciously prepared by the wonderful folks in Hartville.
July 11th: We rode into Lander, WY, which was the biggest place we'd seen in a while. This was the day that Erin was injured, so we were all feeling pretty rough, but the town was lovely, and the church folks were so wonderful and supportive. Erin was kept overnight at a hospital in Casper, so while Darrow, Niko, Brian, and Saskia chilled with her there, the rest of us took an unexpected day off in Lander. The town was a lot of fun, especially since a huge climbing festival had just begun. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, we had a good day. We were so overjoyed when the van returned with a neck-braced Erin that an impromptu parking lot dance party ensued.
July 13th-16th: We were in the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, which were amazing. At different times and in different groups, we hiked, canoed, swam, drank good coffee, saw Old Faithful, made s'mores, ate spaghetti off of Frisbee plates (thank you Youngsville!), went whitewater rafting, and saw an Imax movie about bears.
July 21st: We rode into Missoula, MT, which we'd long been looking forward to - some of us may have been expecting the streets to be lined with granola, and the faucets to flow with espresso. It was indeed a great hippy/outdoorsy/college town, and we had an awesome time tubing, checking out the sights, and hanging out with the wonderful people at the First Baptist Church who made us feel right at home.
So, that's the highlights reel. Tonight we're in Pomeroy, Washington (our first Pacific coast state!), and the people at Pomeroy Church of the Nazarene are really spoiling us. Dinner was awesome, and we're having a great time with the video games, pool tables, and big-screen TV in the church's basement.
Keeping it real,
Jessalee Landfried
July 17th: West Yellowstone, MT to Virginia City, MT
Having wished Yellowstone Park and the Tetons goodbye we set off for Virginia City. After a four day hiatus from the bike, everyone was relieved to be back in the saddle. We left our church under a sunny sky and biked along the Gallatin National Forest. The scenery was much like Yellowstone itself, but with fewer gawking tourists. We passed evergreen forest and gradually descended into a valley running between two mountain ridges. We learned that this scenery had been created during a massive earthquake in 1959. With a strong tailwind behind us some riders pedaled 35 miles--a Tour de France speed! The first 70 miles passed us in a blur. Everything came to a crashing halt, though, when we encountered our first real mountain pass of the trip. Climbing 2000 feet from the humid river valley we entered scrubby mountain terrain. After a panting break at the top, we descended a very steep hill into Virginia City. Described as a “ghost” town in the Montana atlas, the town was in fact charming. Intending to recreate the feel of the Western gold-mining towns, every house downtown was restored to its original Wild West state. We relaxed at the ice cream parlor where the white gold is still made on a 1934-era gas-powered mixer. The Episcopal Church was cozy and we were treated to a generous spaghetti dinner. Some riders relaxed in the evening with a stroll about town while others sat on the church stoop composing postcards.
-Alex Rabin
-Alex Rabin
July 10th: Casper, WY to Shoshone, WY
The day was steezin from the start. It was to be the longest ride of the trip: 98 miles. Trevor woke up with a non-steezin headache and instead of riding, took the van for its steez factor. David ended up being sweep, which he undoubtedly loved and was a completely steezin move on his part. It was chilly when we left Casper, but everyone in the town was already outside (at 7 am) to watch a parade that was to start at 10. Steezin. Before our first snack break, but after being pelted by Trevor with olives out the passenger side window of the van, Brooke took a spill and had a steezin wound on her elbow. This would result in the first of two trips made to the Riverton hospital for HBC Central 2k7 (woo! spring break). She ended up with four stitches and a steezin fish net sleeve.
Because the van was at the hospital, we all ended up stopping at a gas station around mile 50 for some food. It had some steezin Digiorno pizza that the people heated up for us. Shira ended up drinking her first Red Bull ever (let me note, in under a minute), which, in her words, shot her through the rest of the day. We stopped by Hell’s Half Acre, a huge canyon that Native Americans once used to lead buffalo herds into. Apparently, there are still bones at the bottom to prove it. Also, Starship Troopers was filmed there…interestingly steezin. As we were fixin to reach the end of our ride, the surroundings got more and more beautiful with some steezin rock formations. It made the final ten miles almost bearable.
Before reaching our final destination in Shoshone, which was the firehouse we would stay in, all of us stopped at a place that was supposed to be famous for its milkshakes. They weren’t so steezin though, despite the fact that the cups claimed patrons have traveled there from every country in the world to have a taste. While we were consuming this non-steezin dairy, Darrow was off hitting a bird, which ended up getting stuck in the grill of the van. When we finally got settled in at the firehouse, dinner crew made a steezin dinner of spaghetti and all of a sudden, I was serenaded for a second time with the Happy HBC Birthday song. ‘What could this steezin event be taking place for?’ I thought to myself. The purpose was revealed as Darrow presented me with an HBC birthday cake. It was a dog, and though it was labeled as a cake, I think it was strictly constructed of frosting. Nonetheless, it was delicious and I can claim that I have been the only HBC birthday boy or girl to receive a cake on his or her big day. Steezin. Since we would only have to ride around 45 miles the next day, the night was a truly steezin time. Pretty sure that my uncle is the only person in my family to read this, so hey uj. Hold down the fort without me.
-Liz “Steezin” Ferro
Because the van was at the hospital, we all ended up stopping at a gas station around mile 50 for some food. It had some steezin Digiorno pizza that the people heated up for us. Shira ended up drinking her first Red Bull ever (let me note, in under a minute), which, in her words, shot her through the rest of the day. We stopped by Hell’s Half Acre, a huge canyon that Native Americans once used to lead buffalo herds into. Apparently, there are still bones at the bottom to prove it. Also, Starship Troopers was filmed there…interestingly steezin. As we were fixin to reach the end of our ride, the surroundings got more and more beautiful with some steezin rock formations. It made the final ten miles almost bearable.
Before reaching our final destination in Shoshone, which was the firehouse we would stay in, all of us stopped at a place that was supposed to be famous for its milkshakes. They weren’t so steezin though, despite the fact that the cups claimed patrons have traveled there from every country in the world to have a taste. While we were consuming this non-steezin dairy, Darrow was off hitting a bird, which ended up getting stuck in the grill of the van. When we finally got settled in at the firehouse, dinner crew made a steezin dinner of spaghetti and all of a sudden, I was serenaded for a second time with the Happy HBC Birthday song. ‘What could this steezin event be taking place for?’ I thought to myself. The purpose was revealed as Darrow presented me with an HBC birthday cake. It was a dog, and though it was labeled as a cake, I think it was strictly constructed of frosting. Nonetheless, it was delicious and I can claim that I have been the only HBC birthday boy or girl to receive a cake on his or her big day. Steezin. Since we would only have to ride around 45 miles the next day, the night was a truly steezin time. Pretty sure that my uncle is the only person in my family to read this, so hey uj. Hold down the fort without me.
-Liz “Steezin” Ferro
July 9th: Douglas, WY to Casper, WY
This morning I expected to wake up to David’s “jam session” however I awoke to the sound of Matt and Erin arguing over who would be sweep that day, bro. They were the only two left to be sweep and whoever was sweep today would not have to be sweep for tomorrow’s 100-mile ride, bro. Unfortunately, it ended up being my HBC birthday and was therefore my decision to choose, bro. I created an amazing game that would make the decision based on luck, bro. Matt picked the wrong hand and had to be sweep tomorrow, bro. Out of rage he let the air out Erin’s tires as well as mine (real original), BRO! I decided to put that incident behind and set out on easy 80-mile day, bro.
We rolled over empty Wyoming hills with a great tailwind, bro. At lunch we stopped at a huge rock covered in etched initials from the 300,000 people who took the Oregon Trail, bro. The town of Casper is the second largest town in Wyoming and had a bike/climbing shop which made everyone happy, bro. The rest of the night was pretty relaxing and uneventful, bro. We all fell asleep soundly except for Matt who dreamed about his 100-mile sweep day, bro.
-Trevor “Bro” Lyons
We rolled over empty Wyoming hills with a great tailwind, bro. At lunch we stopped at a huge rock covered in etched initials from the 300,000 people who took the Oregon Trail, bro. The town of Casper is the second largest town in Wyoming and had a bike/climbing shop which made everyone happy, bro. The rest of the night was pretty relaxing and uneventful, bro. We all fell asleep soundly except for Matt who dreamed about his 100-mile sweep day, bro.
-Trevor “Bro” Lyons
July 5th: Oshkosh, NE to Scottsbluff, NE
Although it was not my HBC birthday today, I still find myself writing the blog for this exciting day. My brother, Kevin, an HBC alum from '05, joined the trip for a couple days, but being the slacker that he is, I now have the honor of recollecting this glorious day. After thoroughly enjoying our 4th in Oshkosh, we woke up, ate some delicious breakfast burritos, and began our day.
For much of the first 30 miles, there was road work being done on our route, and we all became aware, quite quickly of how important it was to jump over the foot-two foot long holes on the shoulder. Surprisingly, all of our derailers made it through the road work okay, and many of us stopped along the way to read about the Mormon Trail which we were following.
Many of us, myself included, grew-up playing the game, Oregon Trail, on the computer, so we were all very excited to stop for lunch at Chimney Rock, a marker for those traveling west that they had come far, "but the hardest was ahead of them." The visitor center's video described the original Oregon Trail riders "excited, but fearful for the hardest part of the journey was still to come." We, modern day OT'ers, knew exactly what the video narrator was saying and laughed knowing full well the Rockies were ahead. It was pretty darn hot at Chimney Rock, so many riders stopped and enjoyed an ice cream after lunch before continuing their journey.
The scenery continued to be full of interesting rock formations, and after a several tens of miles, we came upon Scottsbluff, one of the biggest and prettiest geological treasures we had encountered so far. Many people, after showers and a great fried chicken dinner, went up to the bluff to watch the sunset. And with that another eventful day on the trail ended.
A personal shout out to Kevin and Dad for visiting. Kevin, I hope I did okay by you with this blog entry.
Over and out.
-Kathleen Abels
For much of the first 30 miles, there was road work being done on our route, and we all became aware, quite quickly of how important it was to jump over the foot-two foot long holes on the shoulder. Surprisingly, all of our derailers made it through the road work okay, and many of us stopped along the way to read about the Mormon Trail which we were following.
Many of us, myself included, grew-up playing the game, Oregon Trail, on the computer, so we were all very excited to stop for lunch at Chimney Rock, a marker for those traveling west that they had come far, "but the hardest was ahead of them." The visitor center's video described the original Oregon Trail riders "excited, but fearful for the hardest part of the journey was still to come." We, modern day OT'ers, knew exactly what the video narrator was saying and laughed knowing full well the Rockies were ahead. It was pretty darn hot at Chimney Rock, so many riders stopped and enjoyed an ice cream after lunch before continuing their journey.
The scenery continued to be full of interesting rock formations, and after a several tens of miles, we came upon Scottsbluff, one of the biggest and prettiest geological treasures we had encountered so far. Many people, after showers and a great fried chicken dinner, went up to the bluff to watch the sunset. And with that another eventful day on the trail ended.
A personal shout out to Kevin and Dad for visiting. Kevin, I hope I did okay by you with this blog entry.
Over and out.
-Kathleen Abels
Thursday, July 12, 2007
July 4th: Ogallala, NE to Oshkosh, NE
Happy Birthday, United States! We are biking across you and doing a good job!
Short ride this morning, 40 miles to the bright lights of Oshkosh, Nebraska. Jessalee took one for the team by cleaning up and pushing us out the door so that we would make it to town in time for the 4th of July parade.
Our ride was hilly but beautiful. We are now in the sandhills of the prairie. Sam and I saw a prairie dog. Some of the bizoys got a picture of themselves pretending to pace line in the middle of a wheat field. We had a quick snack and made it to Oshkosh in time to decorate our bikes with patriotic garb before the parade began.
We had red-white-and-blue streamers, flags, pinwheels, glittery things in the wheels, and our beautiful smiling faces. When we came down main street after the Shriners, we were announced to the crowd. Once we made it through the gauntlet we were able to enjoy cold water and the rest of the parade. One of the best floats was pulled by a llama. We scored lots of candy thrown from the floats.
After the parade ended we enjoyed a cookout with the kind folks of Oshkosh, as well as with numerous visitors who had traveled far to celebrate Independence Day in this fine urban center. Roast beef sandwiches…deeeelicious!!!!!!!
Even better was all the homemade pie awaiting us at the church after lunch!
The afternoon was really, really hot so we headed to the town pool along with the rest of the sweaty community. There was quite the diving competition. Some people tried to even out their crazy bike tan lines. All failed.
Dinner was another cookout with our Methodist hosts. Cinnamon brownies…..yuuuuuuuuuuumy.
The fireworks were wicked impressive. A good time was had by all. We whooped along with the locals in appreciation.
We ate more pie!
Then slept!
Love,
Sara Schiffman Joseph
Graduate, the University of North Carolina
Occupation: biker
ASL: 22; gender is an illusion; Nebraska
Status: Butt hurting
Short ride this morning, 40 miles to the bright lights of Oshkosh, Nebraska. Jessalee took one for the team by cleaning up and pushing us out the door so that we would make it to town in time for the 4th of July parade.
Our ride was hilly but beautiful. We are now in the sandhills of the prairie. Sam and I saw a prairie dog. Some of the bizoys got a picture of themselves pretending to pace line in the middle of a wheat field. We had a quick snack and made it to Oshkosh in time to decorate our bikes with patriotic garb before the parade began.
We had red-white-and-blue streamers, flags, pinwheels, glittery things in the wheels, and our beautiful smiling faces. When we came down main street after the Shriners, we were announced to the crowd. Once we made it through the gauntlet we were able to enjoy cold water and the rest of the parade. One of the best floats was pulled by a llama. We scored lots of candy thrown from the floats.
After the parade ended we enjoyed a cookout with the kind folks of Oshkosh, as well as with numerous visitors who had traveled far to celebrate Independence Day in this fine urban center. Roast beef sandwiches…deeeelicious!!!!!!!
Even better was all the homemade pie awaiting us at the church after lunch!
The afternoon was really, really hot so we headed to the town pool along with the rest of the sweaty community. There was quite the diving competition. Some people tried to even out their crazy bike tan lines. All failed.
Dinner was another cookout with our Methodist hosts. Cinnamon brownies…..yuuuuuuuuuuumy.
The fireworks were wicked impressive. A good time was had by all. We whooped along with the locals in appreciation.
We ate more pie!
Then slept!
Love,
Sara Schiffman Joseph
Graduate, the University of North Carolina
Occupation: biker
ASL: 22; gender is an illusion; Nebraska
Status: Butt hurting
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
July 3rd: North Platte, NE to Ogallala, NE
Our epic and magnificent journey continued on today, despite the fact that the most ridiculous bet ever to occur on an HBC trip was made and carried out. It all started last night at a rodeo in Sutherland, when one of the riders (not to be named) said she would stay there until the remainder of the trip if we would finance her $250. Another rider (also not to be named) said he would also stay behind for the same wager. The terms of the bet were that they would both get jobs in the town and then meet back up with us when we reach the Pacific. What started out as a joke of a bet soon became a reality when at lunch today, the remaining 25 of us gathered our money and came up with the $500. As we departed from lunch to finish the remaining 20 miles of our easy-peasy 51 mile day, we said our good-byes, half sad and half laughing in hopes that we called their bluff. Writing this 9 hours later and with still no sign of them, I'm afraid the 2 fallen riders were very much serious about the bet. We'll see in the morning...
Anyways, time for an update on today's events. We crossed our 2nd time zone and have officially entered Mountain time! Wooh! We experienced, in full force, the effect of head and tail winds. The first 30 miles of today's ride were awful, with most of us averaging 13 mph, but after lunch the winds decided to completely change directions and we were averaged 23 mph easily. The town we entered today, Ogallala, is quite a tourist attraction and before arriving at the church we all stopped at a gift shop and many of us went on a spending spree. I personally bought nothing, because I gave away all my money in the $500 bet. Niko bought a "Got corn?" shirt and many riders got some really cool postcards. Following a hearty sloppy joe dinner provided by the church, many of us decided to go out to eat at Ole's Steak House, known for being one of the best places to get steak in Nebraska. Along with the delicous steak, we also got Rocky Mountain Oysters (aka bull testicles). They were fried and kind of looked like chicken fingers. Many of us enjoyed them, but some of us, cough Matt cough, suddenly became a little girl when it was his turn to try some. In the end, he did try a piece though. During our 2nd dinner, the most insane hail storm exploded from the skies. All of us went outside to experience it and catch it on camera. After the hail stopped, we drove back in silence in awe of the skies, which resembled a strobe light from all the heat lightning. It was one of the most epic sights of the trip in my opinion. Now it's time to see a tornado...
-Nick Kostreski
Anyways, time for an update on today's events. We crossed our 2nd time zone and have officially entered Mountain time! Wooh! We experienced, in full force, the effect of head and tail winds. The first 30 miles of today's ride were awful, with most of us averaging 13 mph, but after lunch the winds decided to completely change directions and we were averaged 23 mph easily. The town we entered today, Ogallala, is quite a tourist attraction and before arriving at the church we all stopped at a gift shop and many of us went on a spending spree. I personally bought nothing, because I gave away all my money in the $500 bet. Niko bought a "Got corn?" shirt and many riders got some really cool postcards. Following a hearty sloppy joe dinner provided by the church, many of us decided to go out to eat at Ole's Steak House, known for being one of the best places to get steak in Nebraska. Along with the delicous steak, we also got Rocky Mountain Oysters (aka bull testicles). They were fried and kind of looked like chicken fingers. Many of us enjoyed them, but some of us, cough Matt cough, suddenly became a little girl when it was his turn to try some. In the end, he did try a piece though. During our 2nd dinner, the most insane hail storm exploded from the skies. All of us went outside to experience it and catch it on camera. After the hail stopped, we drove back in silence in awe of the skies, which resembled a strobe light from all the heat lightning. It was one of the most epic sights of the trip in my opinion. Now it's time to see a tornado...
-Nick Kostreski
July 2nd: Kearney, NE to North Platte, NE
The longest day of our trip thus far, the segment from Kearney to North Platte was our first “century,” or hundred-mile day. The day started on a cheerful note as we set out on a Nebraska scavenger hunt. To keep us entertained and alert, a group of riders put together a list of items to spot throughout the countryside. Some of the items on the list included a western license plate, an Israeli flag, a sign from God, and even proof of the gender binary. Our first stop along this hunt was a giant dilapidated replica of a cow pulling a caravan (whose rump our fearless riders kissed). As our bodies ached from the strain of the flat terrain some riders, including Meg and Saskia, took a short nap atop giant bales of hay. Then we continued on our way. And continued. And continued. With only the occasional grain elevator to keep our interest piqued we took full advantage of the rest stops along the way. Rob, Laura, Meg, and I guzzled giant bottles of Surge (a sugary energy drink) and vaulted onto our bikes on a caffeine high. The unrelenting flatness continued so Alexis and I took a quick lottery break to try our luck at some big Nebraska winnings. We took home $40 apiece. Well, not exactly, but we did get our dollar’s worth of fun. Well, five dollar’s worth of fun. No hard feelings for Nebraska, but I don’t recommend playing that state’s scratch tickets.
The unrelenting heat and monotony continued until we reached a well-deserved lunch break after riding a mile in our special birthday clothes. Niko surprised us with a vegetable platter, a rare treat between the usual tuna and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We inhaled the lunch and set off for the next 50 miles of our journey. Corn and wheat followed. That is, until we arrived at the most stunning site of the day: a Stonehenge of abandoned antique cars. Rob, donning his cycling helmet, climbed into a 50’s Chevy and posed for some seductive pinups.
With 90 miles behind us the legs started to give. Alexis discovered a double-shot espresso power gel in her sweaty jersey pocket. Rob and I slurped down the sludge and sped off at 25 miles an hour toward North Platte. Some arrived in the town with an even 100 miles showing on the bike odometers. But as Rob and I pulled into the church at four o’clock we spotted Nick riding in tiny circles around the parking lot in a vain attempt to boost his mileage from 99.36 to 100. Our final stop before dinner included a mandatory Dairy Queen visit. After declining ice cream all together, I went on to order a massive waffle cone with a big dollop of chocolate sauce. Others indulged in lesser ice creams or burger “snacks.”
After a brief shower, we were treated to a hearty meal at the First Evangelical Lutheran Church. We then took an exciting trip to the neighboring Rodeo. It was an authentic affair with local cowboys competing for a “day’s pay.” People of all ages gathered at the rodeo where both men and women took part. It was a fitting end to the birthplace of Buffalo Bill. The sun set over North Platte as we curled up in our sleeping bags in the church loft.
-Alex Rabin
The unrelenting heat and monotony continued until we reached a well-deserved lunch break after riding a mile in our special birthday clothes. Niko surprised us with a vegetable platter, a rare treat between the usual tuna and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We inhaled the lunch and set off for the next 50 miles of our journey. Corn and wheat followed. That is, until we arrived at the most stunning site of the day: a Stonehenge of abandoned antique cars. Rob, donning his cycling helmet, climbed into a 50’s Chevy and posed for some seductive pinups.
With 90 miles behind us the legs started to give. Alexis discovered a double-shot espresso power gel in her sweaty jersey pocket. Rob and I slurped down the sludge and sped off at 25 miles an hour toward North Platte. Some arrived in the town with an even 100 miles showing on the bike odometers. But as Rob and I pulled into the church at four o’clock we spotted Nick riding in tiny circles around the parking lot in a vain attempt to boost his mileage from 99.36 to 100. Our final stop before dinner included a mandatory Dairy Queen visit. After declining ice cream all together, I went on to order a massive waffle cone with a big dollop of chocolate sauce. Others indulged in lesser ice creams or burger “snacks.”
After a brief shower, we were treated to a hearty meal at the First Evangelical Lutheran Church. We then took an exciting trip to the neighboring Rodeo. It was an authentic affair with local cowboys competing for a “day’s pay.” People of all ages gathered at the rodeo where both men and women took part. It was a fitting end to the birthplace of Buffalo Bill. The sun set over North Platte as we curled up in our sleeping bags in the church loft.
-Alex Rabin
Monday, July 9, 2007
July 1st: Central City, NE to Kearney, NE (pronounced "carnie", like the occupation of our dear Nick Kostreski)
I woke up in all my possum glory this morning still smooshed to the road where the truck that mowed me down yesterday had left me. There were some extremely unusual passersby today – strange creatures with two wheels, bright yellow bodies, and strange hard bulbous heads. I overheard some rather bizarre things – apparently stories from the creatures’ previous day - as they spun by:
“So more of the same today, just like yesterday and the day before that – flat and filled with corn.”
“I’m so excited about the hats I bought at Target in Kearney. Did you see the whole aisle of travel-sized products? Everybody was so psyched about it. Can you believe that they had a Target?! And a mall! That town was way bigger than anything we’ve seen since Chicago.”
“Man, I’m sure glad I had all that delicious spaghetti, garlic bread, and cookies from the church last night. It’s fueling me along here. The church and the Habitat for Humanity folks were so generous. Mmmm, and that breakfast was incredible.”
"Wow, it was so nice of David and Jessalee to get me, Darrow, real presents on my HBC birthday!"
“Hey, do you think we can play soccer again today at lunch? There’s nothing better than a pick-up game. And I certainly could use some more bruises on my shins.”
“Hey Alex, how do you think your mohawk will go over with your family and your girl? You should send them a picture.”
“Did the interview with the TV station get put on the air? I really hope Rob’s mullet to make it on television.”
I’ve been mulling all this over ever since they all whizzed by and I haven’t been able to make any sense of it. The strangest thing of all was when three of these creatures approached they yelled “Possum!” and then proceeded to fly directly over me one at a time – odd, very odd. Well, I guess I have the rest of my roadkill life to mull all this over.
-Darrow Vanderburgh-Wertz
“So more of the same today, just like yesterday and the day before that – flat and filled with corn.”
“I’m so excited about the hats I bought at Target in Kearney. Did you see the whole aisle of travel-sized products? Everybody was so psyched about it. Can you believe that they had a Target?! And a mall! That town was way bigger than anything we’ve seen since Chicago.”
“Man, I’m sure glad I had all that delicious spaghetti, garlic bread, and cookies from the church last night. It’s fueling me along here. The church and the Habitat for Humanity folks were so generous. Mmmm, and that breakfast was incredible.”
"Wow, it was so nice of David and Jessalee to get me, Darrow, real presents on my HBC birthday!"
“Hey, do you think we can play soccer again today at lunch? There’s nothing better than a pick-up game. And I certainly could use some more bruises on my shins.”
“Hey Alex, how do you think your mohawk will go over with your family and your girl? You should send them a picture.”
“Did the interview with the TV station get put on the air? I really hope Rob’s mullet to make it on television.”
I’ve been mulling all this over ever since they all whizzed by and I haven’t been able to make any sense of it. The strangest thing of all was when three of these creatures approached they yelled “Possum!” and then proceeded to fly directly over me one at a time – odd, very odd. Well, I guess I have the rest of my roadkill life to mull all this over.
-Darrow Vanderburgh-Wertz
June 30th: Fremont, NE to Central City, NE
Arlie's Bar appeared around mile 5 of our ride today, with a marquee reading: CARS MOVE THE BODY. BIKES MOVE THE SOUL. We chose an inclusive interpretation of the term 'bikes,' assuming that Harley riders would love to include us in their crew.
After a long, sunny day riding alongside Union Pacific coal trains, we arrived at the Evangelical Free Church and the Presbyterian Church of Central City, NE (located somewhere close to smack dab in the center of the country, according to Central Citians). John rolled up with a sweet pair of antlers duct-taped to his handlebars.
Central City turned out to be eventful enough to rival yesterday's night of glory at the Casey and the Sunshine Band concert. We were lucky enough to have our visit coincide with Central City's annual firemen's dance and barbeque. Alongside the North Platte river, we inhaled bowls of barbequed pork, beef, and (my favorite) meaty beans, and sat on the lawn watching the sun set and talking with locals.
For the evening's climax, Darrow pulled out a pair of scissors. They glinted in the setting sun - melodramatic lighting fitting for such a momentous occasion. With great pomp, in honor of our long, tough week in Nebrastika Fantastika, Alex's locks were shorn into a mohawk, and Rob's into a mullet.
With Alex and Rob looking pretty darn suave, we moved over to the live band. Some of us fumbled through the electric slide, Severin found a few locals to tutor him in the country two-step, and Meg, Lindsay and others spun and frolicked around the dance floor at random. We were a big hit - so much so that on our way out, an extremely nice man handed us $100 for Habitat! The kindness and generosity we find in strangers along this trip is incredibly heartening.
-Brooke Danaher
After a long, sunny day riding alongside Union Pacific coal trains, we arrived at the Evangelical Free Church and the Presbyterian Church of Central City, NE (located somewhere close to smack dab in the center of the country, according to Central Citians). John rolled up with a sweet pair of antlers duct-taped to his handlebars.
Central City turned out to be eventful enough to rival yesterday's night of glory at the Casey and the Sunshine Band concert. We were lucky enough to have our visit coincide with Central City's annual firemen's dance and barbeque. Alongside the North Platte river, we inhaled bowls of barbequed pork, beef, and (my favorite) meaty beans, and sat on the lawn watching the sun set and talking with locals.
For the evening's climax, Darrow pulled out a pair of scissors. They glinted in the setting sun - melodramatic lighting fitting for such a momentous occasion. With great pomp, in honor of our long, tough week in Nebrastika Fantastika, Alex's locks were shorn into a mohawk, and Rob's into a mullet.
With Alex and Rob looking pretty darn suave, we moved over to the live band. Some of us fumbled through the electric slide, Severin found a few locals to tutor him in the country two-step, and Meg, Lindsay and others spun and frolicked around the dance floor at random. We were a big hit - so much so that on our way out, an extremely nice man handed us $100 for Habitat! The kindness and generosity we find in strangers along this trip is incredibly heartening.
-Brooke Danaher
Sunday, July 8, 2007
June 29th: Dunlap, IA to Fremont, NE
We awoke in Dunlap even earlier than we usually do - my alarm was set for 4:30 a.m. - in order to avoid the heavy truck traffic on US 30, which comprised the first ten miles of our day. The traffic wasn't too bad, and we were off of 30 by 8 a.m. After a long day of riding, we arrived in Fremont, where we were greeted like royalty with delicious Gatorade and inflatable mattresses. Before many of us began a marathon nap session, we picked up our mail drop goodies, and stuffed ourselves with brownies, dried fruit, and Liz's mother's absolutely deadly Seven Layer bars. Rob even received a mysterious package from a man we recently met who is kayaking across the United States.
After logging some solid napping hours, we awoke to a huge and beautiful potluck dinner served by the amazing people at the Salem Lutheran Church in Fremont. We all ate huge quantities of delicious fried chicken, casseroles, fruit salad, and dessert. We were all (not for the first time on this trip) ridiculously full.
Not long after stuffing ourselves, Pastor Mike ushered us outside, where we filled our van and the church's bus, and drove to Omaha, where KC and the Sunshine Band were putting on a free outdoor concert. There were 50,000 people in attendance, but thanks to some calls by Brian's dad, Al Allen (who is clearly a media mogul of some kind), we were ushered all the way through the crowd, straight to the front like rock stars. We proceeded to rock out to some of KC's greatest hits, including "Get Down Tonight", "Shake Your Booty", and "That's the Way I Like It," until we were dripping with sweat (again) and our legs ached (again). Lindsay and I were especially in pain during the chorus of "Get Down Tonight", as "getting down" over and over again required our already aching quads to do more work than they wanted to. But KC played on, and so we danced.
After the concert, we drove back to Fremont, totally tuckered out. It was a most excellent day.
-Jessalee Landfried
After logging some solid napping hours, we awoke to a huge and beautiful potluck dinner served by the amazing people at the Salem Lutheran Church in Fremont. We all ate huge quantities of delicious fried chicken, casseroles, fruit salad, and dessert. We were all (not for the first time on this trip) ridiculously full.
Not long after stuffing ourselves, Pastor Mike ushered us outside, where we filled our van and the church's bus, and drove to Omaha, where KC and the Sunshine Band were putting on a free outdoor concert. There were 50,000 people in attendance, but thanks to some calls by Brian's dad, Al Allen (who is clearly a media mogul of some kind), we were ushered all the way through the crowd, straight to the front like rock stars. We proceeded to rock out to some of KC's greatest hits, including "Get Down Tonight", "Shake Your Booty", and "That's the Way I Like It," until we were dripping with sweat (again) and our legs ached (again). Lindsay and I were especially in pain during the chorus of "Get Down Tonight", as "getting down" over and over again required our already aching quads to do more work than they wanted to. But KC played on, and so we danced.
After the concert, we drove back to Fremont, totally tuckered out. It was a most excellent day.
-Jessalee Landfried
Friday, July 6, 2007
June 28th: Jefferson, IA to Dunlap, IA
Our epic adventure to Dunlap, Iowa started like every other day. Everyone woke up promptly at 5 am and neatly packed their bags. We all ran about diligently finishing our morning chores before we could sit down to another amazing meal provided by the church. After thanking the church and packing the trailer we set out on our 86-mile day. The unusually cool temperatures immediately surprised us. A few of us guys had recently shaved our legs and with the absence of our natural leg warmers we were forced to wear synthetic. The ride itself was also a bit of a change from the usual. Instead of constant cornfields, the land was divided by pig farms, which we could recognize from miles by the smell. After about 30 miles we stopped for our first snack break.
Fueled by cookie dough and Chex Mix we set out into the hills with a fierce pace of about 18 mph. Not too long into the ride everyone instantly stopped to see a herd of miniature horses (not to be confused with ponies). After a good amount of time petting these small creatures we set out into the rolling hills of Iowa.
At 60 miles we made out second stop for lunch. When I arrived Nick was chasing Andy around with a dead possum. Most of us took a short nap to recharge before the short 26 miles ahead of us.
We were greeted at the church in Dunlap with smiling locals and ice cream cups. Dinner was an amazing feast of spaghetti and garlic bread. Afterwards Nick, Severin, David and I did some bouldering on a near-by wall. Most people went into town and made friends with the locals. Though there were many exciting things to do in Dunlap most of us retired to our Therma-rests to dream about tomorrow’s ride.
-Trevor Lyons
Fueled by cookie dough and Chex Mix we set out into the hills with a fierce pace of about 18 mph. Not too long into the ride everyone instantly stopped to see a herd of miniature horses (not to be confused with ponies). After a good amount of time petting these small creatures we set out into the rolling hills of Iowa.
At 60 miles we made out second stop for lunch. When I arrived Nick was chasing Andy around with a dead possum. Most of us took a short nap to recharge before the short 26 miles ahead of us.
We were greeted at the church in Dunlap with smiling locals and ice cream cups. Dinner was an amazing feast of spaghetti and garlic bread. Afterwards Nick, Severin, David and I did some bouldering on a near-by wall. Most people went into town and made friends with the locals. Though there were many exciting things to do in Dunlap most of us retired to our Therma-rests to dream about tomorrow’s ride.
-Trevor Lyons
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
June 27th: Ames, IA to Jefferson, IA
Today began like any normal day on HBC, with the grand task of consuming a half gallon of vanilla ice cream. Okay, maybe not that normal, but definitely typical of our HBC shenanigans of late. Long story short, Darrow dared Brian to finish a huge tub of ice cream during breakfast. Being the manly man Brian is, he stepped up to the challenge -- and with his manliness preserved, Brian proceeded to bike for the rest of the day. We all learned a useful lesson from Brian’s determination, although he did indeed finish the ride: ice cream + 60ish miles = not a very good idea. But he’s still alive!
Ride-wise, our day was perfectly uneventful (a nice change from recent craziness involving ditches and rain). The route from Ames to Jefferson was slightly hilly, with roads surrounded by – drumroll please – miles and miles of corn. I think we’ve all really begun to appreciate the fields of corn we’ve been passing in Iowa: not only do they make excellent pee spots (watching the helmets slowly crop up out of the stalks is one of the funniest daily sights), but they truly have begun to look more and more like oceans as the acreages increase and the fields extend straight into the horizon.
Yet the day took a turn for the better once we all settled down in Jefferson, a small town with a rich history (the seemingly small town actually rests upon 200 million dollars in bank deposits, thriving insurance businesses, beans and corn, was the site of the film Twister, and is home to one of two tofu factories in the world – a fact that Andy was particularly excited about). And during a lovely dinner at the United Methodist Church we learned about some of the delicacies of the Midwest: ham balls, casseroles, and Jefferson’s own award-winning twinkie cake, which we had the pleasure of sampling for dessert. And after dinner, a seemingly-normal HBC day transformed a fantastical adventure when we visited Jefferson’s main attraction, the Mahanay Bell Tower, a 162 foot tall concrete obelisk at the center of town. During a compelling presentation by the tower’s guides, we learned about the history and importance of the tower to the town. Celebrated by the annual Bell Tower Festival, the famous tower attracts both residents and foreigners to Jefferson by the religious and patriotic tunes of its 14 cast bells. We had the pleasure of riding the tower’s elevator to the observation deck, where we had the chance to see the sites of Greene County for miles – an absolutely unforgettable and enthralling experience.
Pumped up from our VIP tour, Trevor, Matt and Nick did what any normal biker would do at 9pm….shave his legs. Actually, in the competitive spirit of “brohood,” the boys got the girls to each shave one leg (yes, seriously) as a contest to see who could outperform the others in best shave. The judges (Severin, Kathleen, and Andy, a shaving veteran) measured the legs by closest shave, remaining hairs, and lack of cuts. In what became an oddly heated competition, Matt’s legs took the title of “best overall,” yet Nick’s legs won the “individual” category. Since this is my blog, I’ll take a second to brag – my leg (Nick’s right leg) received the most votes, making me the individual shaving. Yes, I know, I am incredibly skilled. (Mom, you should be proud).
Happy and hairless, we then went to bed. What a great day to be a bulldog.
(shout out to my friends and family – I miss yous!)
Go Team,
Saskia Leggett
Ride-wise, our day was perfectly uneventful (a nice change from recent craziness involving ditches and rain). The route from Ames to Jefferson was slightly hilly, with roads surrounded by – drumroll please – miles and miles of corn. I think we’ve all really begun to appreciate the fields of corn we’ve been passing in Iowa: not only do they make excellent pee spots (watching the helmets slowly crop up out of the stalks is one of the funniest daily sights), but they truly have begun to look more and more like oceans as the acreages increase and the fields extend straight into the horizon.
Yet the day took a turn for the better once we all settled down in Jefferson, a small town with a rich history (the seemingly small town actually rests upon 200 million dollars in bank deposits, thriving insurance businesses, beans and corn, was the site of the film Twister, and is home to one of two tofu factories in the world – a fact that Andy was particularly excited about). And during a lovely dinner at the United Methodist Church we learned about some of the delicacies of the Midwest: ham balls, casseroles, and Jefferson’s own award-winning twinkie cake, which we had the pleasure of sampling for dessert. And after dinner, a seemingly-normal HBC day transformed a fantastical adventure when we visited Jefferson’s main attraction, the Mahanay Bell Tower, a 162 foot tall concrete obelisk at the center of town. During a compelling presentation by the tower’s guides, we learned about the history and importance of the tower to the town. Celebrated by the annual Bell Tower Festival, the famous tower attracts both residents and foreigners to Jefferson by the religious and patriotic tunes of its 14 cast bells. We had the pleasure of riding the tower’s elevator to the observation deck, where we had the chance to see the sites of Greene County for miles – an absolutely unforgettable and enthralling experience.
Pumped up from our VIP tour, Trevor, Matt and Nick did what any normal biker would do at 9pm….shave his legs. Actually, in the competitive spirit of “brohood,” the boys got the girls to each shave one leg (yes, seriously) as a contest to see who could outperform the others in best shave. The judges (Severin, Kathleen, and Andy, a shaving veteran) measured the legs by closest shave, remaining hairs, and lack of cuts. In what became an oddly heated competition, Matt’s legs took the title of “best overall,” yet Nick’s legs won the “individual” category. Since this is my blog, I’ll take a second to brag – my leg (Nick’s right leg) received the most votes, making me the individual shaving. Yes, I know, I am incredibly skilled. (Mom, you should be proud).
Happy and hairless, we then went to bed. What a great day to be a bulldog.
(shout out to my friends and family – I miss yous!)
Go Team,
Saskia Leggett
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
