Fifty-five miles

Didn’t seem like much for a full day’s ride. Salina was close by on the map, and was nearly the same elevation as Nephi, so we thought that the day would be short and sweet, getting us to our destination in the early afternoon. When you know that your entire day will be spent on a bike, something in your brain is liberated. I knew, each day, that I didn’t have to worry about anything except getting to the next town. There was a reservoir along the way, too, and it seemed like a great idea to maybe go swimming in the afternoon. I knew that there would be large segments of the ride with no services, so we planned our stops carefully to ensure that we had plenty of food and water as we went. Our morning routine began that day, buying blueberry bagels and colorful drinks from a grocery store before saying a prayer and taking to the road.

Going south we reveled again in our freedom, more often in silence than aloud. The wind picked up throughout the morning, and descents after climbs were less and less gratifying. After a particularly hard climb we found that we were pedaling downhill to keep up a 12mph pace. The landscape as we rode was bleak and brown with only small, haphazard patches of green sage or juniper trees scattered in the open fields. The black asphalt cut hill and dale in two, dividing our vision. In the early afternoon we reached Yuba reservoir, and stopped to debate whether we should stop and take a dip in the lake or continue on our (fairly miserable) way. We decided to walk to the lake and have a little break, but realized quickly that it was not as close to the highway as we had expected and our bikes were not well-suited to the gravel road that we were on. Right then, though, we heard a car rolling and popping up the road, and I walked out to hitch us a ride. The guy was nice enough, and told us to hop into the brown, vintage 1980s boat attached to the bumper of his blue conversion van.

None of us had the courage to jump into the water that remained cold despite the summer heat. The wind had been blowing hard all day, and it was worse near the water. We took a few pictures and decided that we should get going because the walk back to our bikes would be long. When we got to the top of the boat ramp we were already hoping for a ride out of the park that would spare us the annoyance of walking on a gravel road in flip flops and wet feet. A kid was washing down picnic tables a few yards off, and we had a debate as to whether we could convince him to drive us back to the highway. We quickly decided that we would ask; cause hey, what could we lose? He was amiable, and let us hop in the back of his truck that rumbled quickly down the dirt road to our bikes. We thanked him heartily, and hopped over the sides of the truck onto the bumpy red dirt road.

Back on our bikes, we were soon out of water, but near a small town. We rode in, looking for a gas station or restaurant to fill our camelbak bladders. Not finding either, we saw a darkly tanned man standing outside his house and stopped, shoes clicking as we released from our pedals and walked on the asphalt. His name was Sal, and friendly enough as he offered us water from his hose. Blake and I filled up, and Cory turned him down. As the water ran from the hose, he described to us his work at a nearby prison, and his construction business- he had built his own house. There was something strange about him, though we couldn’t decide, whether it was due to isolation or some inherent defect. He gave us bad directions as to how to leave town, but we just left the way we came, commenting on his strangeness. On the road again, I felt my muscles tiring. There was a sweeping headwind, and we talked very little as we road. We drafted one another, taking turns pulling up the hills as we progressed toward Gunnison, where we planned to take a short break and eat.

Gunnison seemed a paradise when we crested the final hill on our way in. Shade trees lined the clean main street and the air felt cool and refreshing as we coasted in. The whole town was a downhill; it seemed to our tired legs a vision of heaven. Coasting into a subway parking lot, none of us knew if we had the energy to ride twelve more miles into Salina, where we meant to rest for the night. The women staffing the restaurant were friendly and kind, laughing at our clothes and asking where we going and whence we came. The gave us free cookies, and we sat around with our feet up for an hour or so before deciding to move on, finishing our day.

Leaving Gunnison was a climb, and we rode along some railroad tracks for several miles before they diverged from the asphalt road. We had learned that riding on the white line at the edge of the highway smoothed the bumps of the blacktop, and remained in a single file line nearly all the way to Salina. To keep our spirits up, we started yelling lyrics to sublime songs, trading speakers while the others breathed. The hot desert, populated with mostly juniper and the occasional tractor-trailer, drained our last energies as we crested hill after hill on our way into Salina. As we followed the snaking road into Salina, I spotted the steeple of the church, and we coasted around the rear of the chapel. We were glad to find a pavilion and a large lawn, with shady areas where we could nap.

We slept nearly as soon as we lay down, but after an hour or so we were all hungry enough to eat again, so we mounted our bikes gingerly and headed toward the center of town to find a restaurant where I could eat something without meat. Mom’s Café seemed a good choice, and we sat down, still wearing our jerseys and shorts. The waitress seemed unhappy, as most young single mothers living in small towns do. We made small talk and made some jokes with her, and she was smiling soon enough. Blake and Cory’s beards were getting thick enough to be noticed, mine was still barely visible. After eating, Cory paid as we went outside to saddle up on our bikes. When Cory walked out to meet us the door swung open and the waitress, with check in hand, shouted “Nice tip, you Jews!” I looked at Blake, astonished and laughing, then at Cory, who was responsible for payment. He had forgotten to write in a tip on his credit card receipt, so he quickly scribbled one in and we got on our bikes again, riding to a gas station to buy ice cream.

We got to the gas station and bought our ice cream bars and went outside to enjoy the warm weather that had seemed oppressive a little earlier. Sitting under the tin awning of the small post, we laughed at the people going in and out, making small jokes and laughing at the couples in their cars. Once we finished, we wanted to get back to the church to set up camp before it got dark, so we rode back. All three of us were sore and tired, more than we had expected. When we got back to the church, a crowd was playing games near our things, and we worried that we wouldn’t be allowed to sleep where we had planned. We were right, but we shouldn’t have been worried.

We chatted for a few hours with the adult leaders organizing the barbeque before we finally worked up the courage to ask if we could use the church facilities to wash up and shower. They happily obliged, and even left the building unlocked for us to keep away from the mosquitoes. The guy warned us that someone would be coming to lock up the building, and we could just talk to him when he arrived. We moved our stuff into the building, and sat around, waiting for our seemingly inevitable eviction from the cool, mosquito-free room where we sat. A few hours passed, and I heard the outside door open and got up, ready to leave the building. When I peeked my head out the door, an older man was walking down the hallway toward us, body stiff and flashlight raised, as he asked who we were. I told him that we were BYU students, and on a bike trip, and the guy who let us in told us that we could hang out for a bit. He just told us to lock up when we left, and checked the other doors before leaving. We took it as a sign that we could stay the night, so we got couch cushions from the sofas in the foyers and made beds for ourselves.

Four Hours

was how long it took to ride from Provo to Nephi. We left around one o’clock, dressed in jerseys and shorts, with our bikes between our knees. We had planned most of the trip, but avoided knowing every turn. Cory had our maps for the day in his jersey pocket, and we each carried a backpack with a tarp, blanket, and some other necessities. Friends had been taking bets all week on how far we would get before we turned around from fatigue or cowardice, and we spent the first few miles of the ride prematurely reveling in our triumph, and the “I-told-you-so”s that we would soon be saying.

Leaving the house we still needed to pick up a few things, and stopped at the bike shop to pump up our tires and buy them. I managed to fall off of my bike within 50 yards of the house, forgetting that I was clipped in and falling over comically. We trusted ourselves to providence, though, and headed south, following our fairly complicated map and sucking down water and Clif bars as we rode. The miles slid away that day, and we took turns leading as we rode at a light clip through Springville, then Spanish Fork, the Payson, and to Nephi. When we arrived in the town we found first the chapel where we planned to sleep, then made our next order to find food. We found the chamber of commerce populated by a Weight Watchers meeting, and the small pizza place that they directed us to staffed by teenagers with little motivation. Tough to blame them, living in Nephi.

Night came late, it was nearly ten o’clock when the sun finally disappeared, and the weather stayed warm and breezy. We returned to our things at the chapel, and found a couple patrolling the grounds, but felt too shy to speak to them, and they didn’t want to confront us either. After an hour or so of awkwardness, they left to their homes, and we lay down to try to sleep, worried that the sprinklers would turn on and soak us in our sleep. Sleeping on slanted grass is nice in the afternoon, but less pleasant at night, even when the weather is warm. When the sprinklers turned on near where we were, Blake and I woke up, grabbed our tarps and blankets and ran to where we knew had already been watered. Cory laughed at us for our haste, walking casually to where we already were laying, and laid down nearby.

The wind seemed to be on the attack right where we were, on a small decline against a chain link fence, and I fell asleep curled tightly in my white blanket. When I woke, Cory and Blake had both retreated to the concrete pad with the air conditioning units. I slept for a little longer, but the wind whipped my blanket on my legs and I followed suit. The concrete was hard, but at least it was quiet. All three of us slept in short intervals, finally deciding to stand up when the sun broke the horizon, changing back into our riding clothes and packing up our bags.

Cory, Blake, and I did this. More details are forthcoming. 

New York Sour Disel

I'm not very great in discribing, great road trips. So i will relate our trip to New York through visuals.



















We had the best time, probably spent to much money, but who cares! we are rebels of the economy. I would recommend walking everywhere in NYC, your legs may hurt but your spirits will soar.
and it smells bad.

virginia be-otch

marni and i were thrilled when my stepmom asked us tuesday morning if we'd be willing to take my little sister to virginia beach for the weekend when she arrived here. we've just been getting into the routine of things out here in the district and were ready for some excitement to change things up. the rest of the two days of the week went by freakishly slow for me because i was full of anticipation for the three day weekend ahead. thursday night finally came and when we got home from work i hurriedly packed up all the necessities for a weekend trip at the beach: a couple swimsuits, flip flops, shorts, and the polaroid camera.
we got on the road as the sun was setting and enjoyed watching the sky change colors and listening to road trip tunes. as we drove, i reminisced on many memories i've had in virginia beach. i spent many childhood days there and have been back almost every summer since i was 10 years old. i remembered inside jokes from the last summer i spent there, tubing on the bay in my grandma's backyard, night swimming, odd balls in the singles branch, extreme pillow fights, funny failed romances, and living at the beach. in the car, marni, lindsey and i sang along with songs and ate our snacks.. white cheddar popcorn, m&ms, and some nasty pastry that marni picked out.
we finally arrived about three and a half hours later and i was comforted crashing on the couches at my grandma jane's house, something not unfamiliar to me. between all the grandkids having parties there, i think just about every person in virginia beach between the ages of 15 and 24 has slept on the couches in her front room, and that night was no exception. we were woken up in the middle of the night by some of my cousin's friends who had been out partying and came to crash on the couches as well.
we woke up at around 7:30. the whole front of the house is made of windows pretty much and the sunlight came peering in. i looked around, looked out the window at the sun coming up over the bay, looked at all the couches and the floor to see the random people sleeping on them, and then smiled. i knew that it would be a good day.
grandma jane is notorious for not having food at her house, so the gang and i went to wendy's to try out their breakfast, and then went to farm fresh to pick up some goodies for the beach and for the rest of the weekend. we were out the door and ready for the beach by 10 o'clock in the morning which is perfect to get good parking. we went to the "local" beach at about 71st street, rather than the crowded "touristy" beach at the boardwalk, and were the first ones there.
i can't describe the feeling i get when i go to the beach here. it's a million different feelings at once, nostalgia, peaceful, content, delighted, giddy, carefree and just plain happy. i can honestly say that virginia beach-not disneyland- is that happiest place on earth to me. i enjoyed the feeling of the sand in between my toes, the smell of the salt water, the cool breeze, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. i was in heaven. we spent nearly five hours there, laying out catching the sun rays, body surfing the waves, and maybe skinny dipping.. but you didn't hear it from me.
the rest of the trip was filled with seeing old friends, family, hanging out, laughter, and aloe vera for our monster sunburns. on the trip home we decided to take the scenic back roads and were very thrilled that we did. the east coast is much greener and prettier than i'm used to back in utah and we enjoyed driving through the quaint farm towns and thicks of trees with the windows down, and stopping in a cute little town on the bay near historic yorktown for lunch. marni and i made plans for future road trips, talked about people and things we missed back home, and found a new fascination with speaking like hillbillies. it was a very fun, relaxing, and much needed weekend getaway. thanks for reading, blog world. i hope you all take some real great trips soon!

favorite quote of the weekend: "i reckon i knowed that real good!"

polaroids to come soon, maybe.

hopefully it's not too confusing, writing this way with breaks. if it is, i'll just redo the time stamps so it's all in order. vote for your favorite. 

kyle drove through all of oregon and most of washington. i turned on the goonies somewhere in oregon, and after about half an hour i was the only awake passenger. i had never seen it, so i guess it was good to get myself some pop culture street cred. after the movie ended i fell asleep for a while and woke up outside yakima. both kyle and i were falling asleep, but neither of the girls knew how to drive a manual, so i bought an energy drink and took the wheel to get us into seattle. 

nina's parents met us at a gas station in redmond, and we transferred her to their car before taking off in the opposite direction to try and find austin's place. nobody had gps, and our printed off google map was not helpful, so we drove the same stretch of road about five times before calling austin and asking for his help. with a few missteps, we found his complex, and soon dropped off our bags. i went with mckenna to park the car in a nearby grocery store parking lot because the spots at the complex were all full. the night air was thick and sweet, and walking in it was more pleasant than anything i had felt in a long time. the clear sky revealed stars, obscured by tall evergreens in every direction. at that moment, i was glad that we had come. the fatigue that comes with sitting for nine hundred miles melted away as i breathed in that air. 

 "what are you guys doing tonight?"

the guy had been following us on a bike from the time that we walked through the gate. it felt vaguely creepy, and i was walking fast while still trying to keep myself between mckenna and this stranger. it's a weird instinct, but for some reason it seemed right.

"nothing, really. we just got into town and are gonna go to bed i think"

"oh really, where from?"

"utah, we drove all day, just got here."

"oh, well we're gonna play poker over at my place, you guys should come."

i noticed the guy checking mckenna out, and he probably had about 50 pounds on me, if not more. we walked a little faster, he biked a little faster

"thanks man, i think we're just gonna hit the sack though, we're way tired."

"ok"

even after i said this, he kept riding behind us, which was weird. we got to austin's door and let ourselves in as if we lived there. i felt relieved but didn't really want to show it. i had gone so quickly from refreshed and at peace to worried and protective, my brain's ability to switch gears showcased dramatically. i off-handedly told kyle and austin what had happened. austin was wearing a red and white "killington, vermont" pom-pom adorned beanie and athletic shorts, and still hadn't changed for bed. or maybe he was changed for bed. he dragged his mattress into the living room , and lay on the floor, offering the mattress to mckenna, who gladly accepted. we soon turned off the lights, but kept talking for quite some time, until either austin or i fell asleep mid sentence and only woke up at ten on saturday morning. kyle was mostly zoned out and fell asleep first, i think. 

a blessed journey

after the oil change I got home, and had no sooner opened the car door when kyle called to tell me that he was ready, because he had skipped his arabic class. i also had a long and complicated voicemail from mckenna in my inbox, detailing where her keys and bags were so that we could pick them up on our way to picking her up. we organized logistics with nina, kyle and mckenna's friend, and orchestrated our rendezvous with mckenna on campus at one. 

kyle, nina and i got to campus right at one, and i felt satisfaction at having planned the time out perfectly, one of my favorite things to succeed at. mckenna was stuck in a meeting, so i got a veggie sub at subway, and by the time i was returning to the car to eat it, kyle and mckenna were walking between the buildings toward my car, ready for the road. 

i looked at the clock, looked at my zeroed trip odometer, and we were off on the crowded utah highway, full of people leaving the city or the state for the weekend, even though it was so early in the afternoon. traffic was unpleasant until we had gotten past the northern end of the wasatch front, but the music and the conversation more than made up for the less than ideal road congestion. there's a comfort in driving, passengers falling asleep in shifts, trusting you with their lives enough that they don't need to see what you are doing. it feels peaceful, driving along and seeing all the closed eyes and relaxed bodies, sleeping away the boredom of western plains and rainstorms. 

i was going almost ninety around some trucks when i saw the black and white charger going the other way on the interstate. i hit my brakes, he hit his, and i knew that i was going to be pulled over. he took an emergency turnaround, and soon flashed his lights and siren in my rearview mirror. i stopped, and he was brusque in telling me that i was speeding and did i know that not having proof of insurance was an offense that could revoke my license in idaho (this was silly posturing), and finished his stop by accusing me of being tired and suggesting that we change drivers. i looked at him, and wanted to say "no, i'm not tired, i'm pissed that you gave me a ticket, they're different looks." but i just smiled and said "no, officer, i'm fine." soon we were off again, only a few hundred miles out of boise. 

it took just over five hours to get to boise, including the run-in with the law. we filled up at a chevron and kyle had a great conversation with the attendant- she was not originally from boise, but had been living there for about a year, working at the service station. kyle waxed poetic about the people that you meet working gas stations, and i bought an energy drink. We ate Bajio for dinner, and Kyle didn't get anything, letting us on to his strategy at burritos joints: don't get anything, because nobody ever finishes theirs. it's a smart ploy, but one that everyone cannot subscribe to. 

i gave kyle the keys when we left the restaurant, and sat in the passenger seat to dj for the next couple of hours.