Turns out, it has been nigh on impossible to blog on this trip. There is simply not enough time to write when we spend every waking moment trying to make forward progress. Here is a typical day:
Wednesday night, we drove up Beartooth Pass in Wyoming and found the road closed at 8:00 p.m. For construction. This is one of the scariest roads I have ever driven, with jaw dropping drop offs and a top elevation of about 10,400 ft. We didn't know the road closed at 8. We got there at 8:16. You could not pay me to drive back down to the bottom of the mountain at dark when we just whimpered up the thing before dark.
Fortunately, there was a motel/campground at the top of the mountain. They were closed, but e guy who ran it, saw us and opened up his little store so we could buy lunchmeat and bread so we could have dinner. It was about 40 degrees out at that elevation, and there was only one motel room left. We drove all day with two other guys we have met along the way. None of us wanted to camp in the cold. Laura and I said we would pay for the room as long as we got the bed. They were free to sleep on the floor, but they had to buy the food for dinner. It was a deal.
By the time we unloaded bikes (couldn't leave any food/gum/Gatorade packets in the bikes or we were told bears might tear up the bikes trying to get at it), ate our pitiful dinner, and took a shower, it was 10:30.
The road didn't open until 8:00 a.m. This is the most sleep we have had in a week, just because we could not possibly progress sooner. So to make up for the late start by riding until 2:30 a.m. At one point, we were in the middle of nowhere, freezing, tired, and we had pulled over at a rest stop. Laura was mad because I would not let her sleep on a concrete picnic table at the rest stop and forced our merry band of four to keep going the 50 miles more we needed to hit civilization.
Again, it was cold by then, we had been driving slowly to avoid hitting deer on Wyoming back roads, and we again decided a hotel was the only way to go. By the time we found one with vacancies, unloaded, and hit the bed, it was 3:00 a.m. We got up at 9 this morning. We will be riding no later than midnight from here on out. I have decreed it. Our tolerance for frustration decreases exponentially after midnight, along with our ability to be kind.
The point is, there isn't much opportunity to type. We are now trying to figure out how to change this trip so we can still complete the trip but in a way that allows us to still have some measure of fun without killing ourselves. Having so many friends and family tracking us on the website has truly, truly kept us going. We are so very appreciative, and I think we will be able to work through this current low point.
The point is, it is a seriously long day, every day, with wild swings of temperatures of about 50 to 60 degrees from the time we start to the middle of the day, back down to 40 or 50 degrees again at night. We are exhausted by the time we finish. The scenery is stunning, but my hands have been numb for 2 days. I am carrying a little voice recorder now so I can record what I want to write, since I have plenty of time to think about it all day.
Somehow that last paragraph that was originally somewhere at the top of the post got moved to the bottom of the post. I apologize for this and all the many typos. It will have to do for now.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Tidbits
Most FAQ: where are your firefighter friends this year? For those of you new to our trip history, Laura and I take a vacation every year with our two beloved friends who are firefighters. This year, we were scheduled to hike on the AT, but one of the firefighters tore her ACL and had surgery. We changed plans for this crazy ride, and we have to do it without our own personal first responders. Alas. We miss them terribly.
First day, we started in Phoenix with temps at 86 degrees at start tine of 6:00 a.m. Before the trip, We bought cooling vests that are designed to be soaked then worn over a t-shirt and the evaporation cools your body. I stayed up until midnight the night before we left to sew patches on these vests. We had several patches from charity rides, etc., so we would have the appropriate biker look.
I am a minimally competent seamstress, meaning if you give me a Butterick pattern, I could sew you a serviceable dress, provided you did not want a frill outside my skill set, such as a zipper. Or matching sleeves. But the point is, I own a sewing machine and have the requisite ability to sew a few patches onto a cloth vest. We got to the first gas stop, and Laura went to unpack the oh-so-fine vests, and, well, they were gone. Somehow they had worked free of their moorings and flew off, unworn and undetected. The hottest state and the hottest leg of our journey -- isn't it just the way?
Saw this quaint little town in AZ called Cave Creek that could be a movie set for any western. One of the side streets was named "Blood Bath Drive" on one side of the road, and "Tranqil Trail" on the other side. I am not an especially cautious person, but I can tell you on October 31, I would only be trick or treating on one side of the road. Unless Blood Bath Drive gives better candy. In which case it is an acceptable risk.
We drove maybe 15 miles, made a couple of turns, and then all of a sudden, we saw a huge pack of riders in front of us take a wrong turn. We had the guts to not follow them, although we we're second guessing ourselves. Turns out we were right, and 40 or so riders had to make a u-turn through a parking lot. Tis is probably a good lesson early that you cannot rely on following someone else and not doing tour own navigation.
First day, we started in Phoenix with temps at 86 degrees at start tine of 6:00 a.m. Before the trip, We bought cooling vests that are designed to be soaked then worn over a t-shirt and the evaporation cools your body. I stayed up until midnight the night before we left to sew patches on these vests. We had several patches from charity rides, etc., so we would have the appropriate biker look.
I am a minimally competent seamstress, meaning if you give me a Butterick pattern, I could sew you a serviceable dress, provided you did not want a frill outside my skill set, such as a zipper. Or matching sleeves. But the point is, I own a sewing machine and have the requisite ability to sew a few patches onto a cloth vest. We got to the first gas stop, and Laura went to unpack the oh-so-fine vests, and, well, they were gone. Somehow they had worked free of their moorings and flew off, unworn and undetected. The hottest state and the hottest leg of our journey -- isn't it just the way?
Saw this quaint little town in AZ called Cave Creek that could be a movie set for any western. One of the side streets was named "Blood Bath Drive" on one side of the road, and "Tranqil Trail" on the other side. I am not an especially cautious person, but I can tell you on October 31, I would only be trick or treating on one side of the road. Unless Blood Bath Drive gives better candy. In which case it is an acceptable risk.
We drove maybe 15 miles, made a couple of turns, and then all of a sudden, we saw a huge pack of riders in front of us take a wrong turn. We had the guts to not follow them, although we we're second guessing ourselves. Turns out we were right, and 40 or so riders had to make a u-turn through a parking lot. Tis is probably a good lesson early that you cannot rely on following someone else and not doing tour own navigation.
4 days in
I saw a USA Today weather map this morning that showed the country all color coded by temperature, and it clearly showed the whole country is on fire. So, can you explain to me why for the past 2 days, in a futile attempt to stay warm, I have worn all the clothing I brought, including my swimsuit? In hindsight, based on the odd looks I have gotten from other motorists, perhaps I should have worn the swimsuit on the inside.
Hello, my name is Naive. I thought we would have some modicum of leisure time on this trip. I really did bring a swimsuit, thinking it might be nice to dip in a pool at a campground at the end of a hot day's ride. Instead, we aren't coming close to the miles we need to average per day in order to finish this ride in time to get me back to work in the allotted 3 weeks. We are on the bikes at least 15 hours per day, but since the route includes all secondary roads, the miles are slow. Fortunately, it also means the views are spectacular.
I could easily take at random any 200 mile segment of the trip so far and think it was a dream weekend jaunt. I cannot believe how lucky I am to be able to see so many incredible parts of the country.
It is 2:30 a.m., and we put in 18 hours of riding today to try to make up some time. We have also had to break from the prescribed route at night to get inland for warmth (didnt work) as well as to go faster since we cant see any of the beautiful coastline after dark anyway. I am exhausted and will write more later. Right after I take a dip in the swimmin' hole.
Hello, my name is Naive. I thought we would have some modicum of leisure time on this trip. I really did bring a swimsuit, thinking it might be nice to dip in a pool at a campground at the end of a hot day's ride. Instead, we aren't coming close to the miles we need to average per day in order to finish this ride in time to get me back to work in the allotted 3 weeks. We are on the bikes at least 15 hours per day, but since the route includes all secondary roads, the miles are slow. Fortunately, it also means the views are spectacular.
I could easily take at random any 200 mile segment of the trip so far and think it was a dream weekend jaunt. I cannot believe how lucky I am to be able to see so many incredible parts of the country.
It is 2:30 a.m., and we put in 18 hours of riding today to try to make up some time. We have also had to break from the prescribed route at night to get inland for warmth (didnt work) as well as to go faster since we cant see any of the beautiful coastline after dark anyway. I am exhausted and will write more later. Right after I take a dip in the swimmin' hole.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Pregame
Traveling by motorbike requires packing light. We both limited ourselves to about a briefcase-sized bag of clothing for three weeks of travel. Basically, take a good look at today's outfit: it looks remarkably like tomorrow's outfit. You may want to look at it from a distance is all I'm saying.
We attended the mandatory pre-race meeting which was notable for its marked lack of useful information and abundance of other rider's TMI. A guy that did the race last year told us he travelled with 26 pounds of gear last year. He got it down to 18 lbs this year with the following strategy: he will wear the same jeans and shirt for the entire 10 to 12 days he expects it to take him to finish. His one concession to hygiene, and I use this term loosely, is that he will change his drawers daily and just throw away the dirty pair each day. As an aside, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Quelle surprise, eh?
I mean, I get it: this event involves a level of personal funk that can only be tolerated by either limiting one's exposure to other humans that have observable noses or by providing a generous dollop of personal space in all interactions. But fer cryin' out loud, pack some extra clothes, man! It isn't like you have to carry the extra 8 lbs of clothes yourself, dude. The motorcycle does the work!
Actually, other riders were extremely friendly and generous with advice. While race officials refused to announce the total number of participants, it looked like about 250. there are 20 women riding. One of the other women was telling us about riding last year. She rode most of the way with a guy she met along the way. She said he was so handy, he was like McGuyver. he was the kind of guy that could start a fire with nothing but a shoelace. That's a pretty good quality for a traveling companion, I guess, unless you own a lighter or have the 99 cents required to purchase one at the nearest 7-11.
I think what i am trying to convey here is that These are hard core people. I, on the other hand, have a core made of stay-puft marshmallow that thrives in cool, comfortable conditions. Preferably surrounded with chocolate. And maybe a graham cracker. We will see what tomorrow brings.
We attended the mandatory pre-race meeting which was notable for its marked lack of useful information and abundance of other rider's TMI. A guy that did the race last year told us he travelled with 26 pounds of gear last year. He got it down to 18 lbs this year with the following strategy: he will wear the same jeans and shirt for the entire 10 to 12 days he expects it to take him to finish. His one concession to hygiene, and I use this term loosely, is that he will change his drawers daily and just throw away the dirty pair each day. As an aside, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Quelle surprise, eh?
I mean, I get it: this event involves a level of personal funk that can only be tolerated by either limiting one's exposure to other humans that have observable noses or by providing a generous dollop of personal space in all interactions. But fer cryin' out loud, pack some extra clothes, man! It isn't like you have to carry the extra 8 lbs of clothes yourself, dude. The motorcycle does the work!
Actually, other riders were extremely friendly and generous with advice. While race officials refused to announce the total number of participants, it looked like about 250. there are 20 women riding. One of the other women was telling us about riding last year. She rode most of the way with a guy she met along the way. She said he was so handy, he was like McGuyver. he was the kind of guy that could start a fire with nothing but a shoelace. That's a pretty good quality for a traveling companion, I guess, unless you own a lighter or have the 99 cents required to purchase one at the nearest 7-11.
I think what i am trying to convey here is that These are hard core people. I, on the other hand, have a core made of stay-puft marshmallow that thrives in cool, comfortable conditions. Preferably surrounded with chocolate. And maybe a graham cracker. We will see what tomorrow brings.
Editors note and disclaimer
I am trying to blog this trip using just an iPad. While it is a simply cunning device, it is hard to type on it. It also likes to replace the word I type with another word it thinks I probably meant. Turns out, the iPad is horrible at reading my mind and rarely chooses a word better than the one I intended to type. In addition, once I preview the post, I cant make this thing page up to a higher paragraph to correct any errors I see myself.
The point is that I hope you will bear with me through my use of new technology. I also hope you will bear with me as I work myself back into the flow of writing. I can't promise but intend to become funnier as I get further and further away from my logical, engineering life and into my creative, vision quest, road trip, fun life, also known as "delerium."
The point is that I hope you will bear with me through my use of new technology. I also hope you will bear with me as I work myself back into the flow of writing. I can't promise but intend to become funnier as I get further and further away from my logical, engineering life and into my creative, vision quest, road trip, fun life, also known as "delerium."
Hoka Hey motorcycle challenge 2011
Every year, Laura and I take a 2- to 3-week vacation that strains the definition of "fun." This summer, the mission is called the Hoka Hey motorcycle challenge http://www.hokaheychallenge.com
It involves riding motorcycles from Phoenix, AZ to Nova Scotia, Canada, and driving through each of the 48 contiguous states in between. Whoever gets there first wins $250,000 and a new Harley. We will not be first. In fact, we may be last, but the intent is to arrive at the end by the date of the finishing party, August 21st, alive, intact, and still talking to each other.
We have considered that trying to cover approximately 14,000 miles in 16 days on motorcycles in a nationwide heat wave when we are not allowed to sleep in hotels or air conditioning will test the limits of 12 years of marriage. Most couples I know can barely get through doing a home improvement project together without thoughts of divorce creeping in, so let's just amp up the potential for hard feelings, recriminations, and bull headed stupidity times a estimated factor of four thousand.
It doesn't help that our "plan" to get through this involves a great deal of hope and little else. Planning involved almost no training of middle aged, softened bodies. In my head, I am still that person who could work at max capacity all day in the august heat delivering packages at a dead run for UPS At a time when drivers weren't allowed to wear shorts. Then I realize that girl lived 20 years ago, with many pounds and life comforts added on since then. Typical issues of mental image me not matching reality me.
This trip has involved a series of milestone steps. We shipped our Harleys to Phoenix over two weeks ago. They arrived Monday night. We arrived Tuesday night. Wednesday, we picked them up at the shipping terminal and went to sign in for the challenge and get GPS tracking devices installed on the bikes. Today, Thursday, we will spend the day packing up the bikes, I will takes care of some last minute projects for work, and tHen we will attend a mandatory rider meeting at 4:00, followed by a meal with all the participants. The Friday morning at 5:00 a.m., and away we will go.
If you are still trying to wrap your head around this adventure and why anyone would do it, let me tell you the most unbelievable part of the whole trip. We flew into Phoenix on Tuesday night and drove straight to the home of Debbie and Lynda, two friends of friends who live in this gorgeous condo overlooking he AZ Diamondbacks stadium. Debbie and Lynda aren't even here since they are on vacation, and they left a key for us. We have met them TWICE! Who does that? Who, in this age, is that trusting and generous??
Maybe they figured we are on bikes that limit our ability to steal appliances, but we showed them. Laura has lined the bottom of her saddlebags with the good silver, and I am going through the jewelry boxes.
Actually, we have been overwhelmed with the offers of friends living along our expected route to provide whatever support we need, including showers, laundry, a meal, love and prayers. Many friends have opened their address books and given us their parents, siblings, other friends addresses that would be wiling coconspirators with us on this journey. We are truly blessed.
It involves riding motorcycles from Phoenix, AZ to Nova Scotia, Canada, and driving through each of the 48 contiguous states in between. Whoever gets there first wins $250,000 and a new Harley. We will not be first. In fact, we may be last, but the intent is to arrive at the end by the date of the finishing party, August 21st, alive, intact, and still talking to each other.
We have considered that trying to cover approximately 14,000 miles in 16 days on motorcycles in a nationwide heat wave when we are not allowed to sleep in hotels or air conditioning will test the limits of 12 years of marriage. Most couples I know can barely get through doing a home improvement project together without thoughts of divorce creeping in, so let's just amp up the potential for hard feelings, recriminations, and bull headed stupidity times a estimated factor of four thousand.
It doesn't help that our "plan" to get through this involves a great deal of hope and little else. Planning involved almost no training of middle aged, softened bodies. In my head, I am still that person who could work at max capacity all day in the august heat delivering packages at a dead run for UPS At a time when drivers weren't allowed to wear shorts. Then I realize that girl lived 20 years ago, with many pounds and life comforts added on since then. Typical issues of mental image me not matching reality me.
This trip has involved a series of milestone steps. We shipped our Harleys to Phoenix over two weeks ago. They arrived Monday night. We arrived Tuesday night. Wednesday, we picked them up at the shipping terminal and went to sign in for the challenge and get GPS tracking devices installed on the bikes. Today, Thursday, we will spend the day packing up the bikes, I will takes care of some last minute projects for work, and tHen we will attend a mandatory rider meeting at 4:00, followed by a meal with all the participants. The Friday morning at 5:00 a.m., and away we will go.
If you are still trying to wrap your head around this adventure and why anyone would do it, let me tell you the most unbelievable part of the whole trip. We flew into Phoenix on Tuesday night and drove straight to the home of Debbie and Lynda, two friends of friends who live in this gorgeous condo overlooking he AZ Diamondbacks stadium. Debbie and Lynda aren't even here since they are on vacation, and they left a key for us. We have met them TWICE! Who does that? Who, in this age, is that trusting and generous??
Maybe they figured we are on bikes that limit our ability to steal appliances, but we showed them. Laura has lined the bottom of her saddlebags with the good silver, and I am going through the jewelry boxes.
Actually, we have been overwhelmed with the offers of friends living along our expected route to provide whatever support we need, including showers, laundry, a meal, love and prayers. Many friends have opened their address books and given us their parents, siblings, other friends addresses that would be wiling coconspirators with us on this journey. We are truly blessed.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Day 23: Home Sweet Home
Today, we were all smiles. We were going to be home before dark! Our beloved pets were waiting to be petted. Our own comfy beds were calling. Our own familiar surroundings beckoned us back towards home.
But first, eight hours or so of highway driving, including the infamous Pennsylvania Turnpike. The first couple of hours in Ohio just looked like home to me. No matter that I have now lived in the DC area about two decades, the rolling hills of Ohio are still what come to mind when I think of “home.”
And yet, to get to our own homes, we had to skip going back through Columbus to stay at Mom’s house again. I knew Mom would be disappointed, but I also knew she would understand. I tried to salve my conscience that I would be seeing her at the beach in a week, but I still felt stabs of unworthy daughter guilt and the thought that what's a child to do, even an adult child, but disappoint her mother?
We hadn’t been hot and sweaty for weeks, but Michigan and Ohio brought heat. We rolled up jackets and packed them away. We guzzled water at every stop. But the day was truly beautiful, as was the ride. We hit the Beltway around DC, and traffic thickened. It didn’t matter, because we were an hour from home! As we rounded the Beltway, we saw thick, gray clouds on the horizon, and we headed right into them.
At the last gas stop, we said our goodbyes to K and S in advance. Once L and I got to our exit, we would peel off while S and K continued to their exit. But as we approached our exit, L and I talked helmet-to-helmet that it just didn’t seem right to cap off an 8,000 mile trip with a disinterested wave of “See ya later.” We decided to ride with them to their house, give them a proper hug and goodbye, then head the last few miles for our home.
We had been staring at the gray clouds for so long that we had convinced ourselves they were impotent. Nothing could stand in the way of these four intrepid travelers! And just after we passed the last possible moment to exit to our house and away from the clouds, those clouds burst. With a vengeance. On a stretch of Beltway called “The Mixing Bowl” where it would be suicidal to try to pull off onto a shoulder and don rain gear. Where the rain pelted down so hard and so quickly that it would be useless to try to pull off and don rain gear as our clothing was no longer dry enough to even try to protect. We were drenched in moments. Saturated. Sodden. And laughing at the absurdity of it all. Ten more minutes and S and K could have been home dry. Fifteen more minutes, and L and I could have made it as well. But no, first one last cosmic joke.
In the end, we waved goodbye anyway as we parted at a stop light. There was obviously not going to be a leisurely goodbye in their driveway with this rain. L and I headed to our own home, L leading. Two miles left to our own driveway, and l drove through a huge standing puddle of water in the road. She watched in her mirror as she saw a huge plume of water stream off the back wheels of the trailer, arc majestically in the air, and crash right into my face. We laughed so hard that we almost ran off the road.
Daily Recap: 480 miles, States: Return through OH, PA, MD, and PA
Total trip recap: 7,784 miles, or 338 miles/day average. A few hundred photos. About 144 freezer bag meals. Can’t even imagine how many ounces of Gatorade. About 65 gas stops. One lost retainer. One back broken, then repaired. 5 oil and/or repair stops. Amazing wildlife viewed. Postcard quality scenery seen. Countless laughs enjoyed. And friends for life. Priceless.
But first, eight hours or so of highway driving, including the infamous Pennsylvania Turnpike. The first couple of hours in Ohio just looked like home to me. No matter that I have now lived in the DC area about two decades, the rolling hills of Ohio are still what come to mind when I think of “home.”
And yet, to get to our own homes, we had to skip going back through Columbus to stay at Mom’s house again. I knew Mom would be disappointed, but I also knew she would understand. I tried to salve my conscience that I would be seeing her at the beach in a week, but I still felt stabs of unworthy daughter guilt and the thought that what's a child to do, even an adult child, but disappoint her mother?
We hadn’t been hot and sweaty for weeks, but Michigan and Ohio brought heat. We rolled up jackets and packed them away. We guzzled water at every stop. But the day was truly beautiful, as was the ride. We hit the Beltway around DC, and traffic thickened. It didn’t matter, because we were an hour from home! As we rounded the Beltway, we saw thick, gray clouds on the horizon, and we headed right into them.
At the last gas stop, we said our goodbyes to K and S in advance. Once L and I got to our exit, we would peel off while S and K continued to their exit. But as we approached our exit, L and I talked helmet-to-helmet that it just didn’t seem right to cap off an 8,000 mile trip with a disinterested wave of “See ya later.” We decided to ride with them to their house, give them a proper hug and goodbye, then head the last few miles for our home.
We had been staring at the gray clouds for so long that we had convinced ourselves they were impotent. Nothing could stand in the way of these four intrepid travelers! And just after we passed the last possible moment to exit to our house and away from the clouds, those clouds burst. With a vengeance. On a stretch of Beltway called “The Mixing Bowl” where it would be suicidal to try to pull off onto a shoulder and don rain gear. Where the rain pelted down so hard and so quickly that it would be useless to try to pull off and don rain gear as our clothing was no longer dry enough to even try to protect. We were drenched in moments. Saturated. Sodden. And laughing at the absurdity of it all. Ten more minutes and S and K could have been home dry. Fifteen more minutes, and L and I could have made it as well. But no, first one last cosmic joke.
In the end, we waved goodbye anyway as we parted at a stop light. There was obviously not going to be a leisurely goodbye in their driveway with this rain. L and I headed to our own home, L leading. Two miles left to our own driveway, and l drove through a huge standing puddle of water in the road. She watched in her mirror as she saw a huge plume of water stream off the back wheels of the trailer, arc majestically in the air, and crash right into my face. We laughed so hard that we almost ran off the road.
Daily Recap: 480 miles, States: Return through OH, PA, MD, and PA
Total trip recap: 7,784 miles, or 338 miles/day average. A few hundred photos. About 144 freezer bag meals. Can’t even imagine how many ounces of Gatorade. About 65 gas stops. One lost retainer. One back broken, then repaired. 5 oil and/or repair stops. Amazing wildlife viewed. Postcard quality scenery seen. Countless laughs enjoyed. And friends for life. Priceless.
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