Day 15: an unexpected end to the unexpected ride

The ride ended with a "runaway bike cliff crevice" on a steep downhill 12 miles out of Escalante and 16 miles before Boulder Utah on highway 12. If you look at this topography on Google Earth, there's street view of the entire route, but it will only show you so much. I'd point out the lack of guard rails, the narrow shoulders on the road, the cliffs all matching in color. From the lookout view at the top, you can watch the cars, trucks, semis, tourbuses, motor homes wind their way down the 8% grade. It's a mix of highly experienced professional drivers, locals, and highly inexperienced vacationers driving massive machines on a road that carried mail by burros until 1948.

At that lookout, we had a lovely chat with some of these travellers, waited for the traffic to clear, and proceeded cautiously down the canyon. Around the corner, around the corner... I had to stop. I was getting nervous. A combination of the white cliffs that wasn't showing contrast, the steep cliff side with no guard rails, a freshly paved road that was almost too smooth. I slowed to a stop. I'd feel better if I walked down the steepest part. So I did. I was able to get this great pic of Mike ahead of me. He waited for me, the road leveled out, and I clipped in. Another corner. Picked up speed. Grabbed my brakes. And something wasn't right. My brakes felt like old 1980s rim brakes, slowing me down a bit, but not stopping me like 2013 disc brake technology. I looked ahead- another tight corner, and a steep decent after that. Still no guard rails on the corner. I couldn't hear any cars on the road in either direction- silence. I'm thinking fast about the best way out of this situation. There was a slot in the sandstone cliff up ahead, a place to nose my front tire in to park it. I steered across the lanes, into my spot. When the tire made contact, I made sure I kept my head from bouncing against the wall. My shoulder hit after the bounce- I leaned into the wall to clip out. And there I was- standing still with my bike. It wasn't a fall, and I was calm about it. The plan went as best as it possibly could- stop the bike, don't crash. Simple.

Mike pulled up suddenly and he was confused. Watching me cut across the lanes didn't make any sense. He was too far back to hear my expletives. He made sure I was okay- he saw me bounce up off the seat a little, but not much. At first he estimated I must not have been going faster than 5 miles an hour. I looked at the tire- I figured I may have popped it, but it was fine and the rim was straight. Then I noticed the blue paint on the fender. And the cliff. And the wheel wouldn't roll. Bent forks. The pedals were in way of the tire turning. This wasn't good. Mike recognized right away the ride was over for me. I considered removing the fender, but that was going to still require sitting down somewhere else and working at it.

So we walked the rest of the canyon. All I could think was how dumb of me not to check my brake pads earlier. We were just talking about replacing tires (mine were still original) and we check the air pressure and oil the chain daily. This is a problem with a spontaneous trip- this was an oversight.

I'm not mentally beating myself up about this oversight too much- it's very much still a novice mistake. I'm proud to have ridden a new bicycle to the point of wearing stuff out- how many new bicycles get less than 1000 miles, let alone 6,000 miles? However, a little more planning it probably would have been on the checklist.

But, who is to say that the brakes probably passed that initial check? We estimated we had done 40,000 feet of decent to that point, including a 30 mile downhill two days before, and a steep downhill into Bryce Canyon with no problems whatsoever. No squeaky wear indicator like a car. And, that's probably why they didn't work as well as they should have. Hindsight.

Kind strangers gave us a ride the rest of the 16 miles to Boulder, where we were meeting my aunt and her friends for lunch. On the ride, we realized that road was harrowingly narrow. It didn't get better.

My aunt called my uncle, he met us with his truck. We went back to their house. Found a rental car place open in Cedar City on Sunday. Ate dinner. Slept at their friend's place. My aunt and uncle took us to Cedar City the next day, bikes in the rental car, and our trip ended as it had started- a goodby from friends, thanking them for hospitality, and a long car ride to talk.

Was there some sort of fate or higher power giving us signs to get off the road? I can't say. Two weeks was a great adventure. Utah's 12 isn't really for bicycles. Spontaneous trips have risk (well-planned ones can too). Research for road trips can take some mystery out, which is both good and bad. I read up a lot about the Southern Tier route before our first ride, and there were sections I felt pretty knowledgeable about because of past cyclists journals. Had I done a similar amount of reading about the Western Express route, maybe I wouldn't have been so surprised about the challenge. Would I have not attempted it? That's hard to say. I think a little bit of my own research could be a better thing. Having information is smart. But going with incomplete bits of information will always happen. Restaurants may be closed. Roads can be detoured. Weather patterns change in an instant. What somebody else may write a terrible review for could be right up your ally. Something that came highly recommended by a local wasn't our cup of tea at all. But that's all the adventure.

I'm not sure when Alma will be fixed, but Fern (my mountain bike) will be on more dirt paths with the kids this summer, and Dolce the road bike will be out for some quick backcountry roads with Mike while he's still in town, so I'll keep updating this with some of our local rides.

Day 14: I Wish You Could Smell This Photo

It isn't the most stunning, nor photographed, nor scenic piece of Utah, but I wish you could smell this photo.

It smells of pine, in a dry, desert heat of the midafternoon. Asphalt, not fresh, but the sun's rays have brought out the smell of the day.

Sage growing in a dry riverbed.

Sunscreen mixed with sweat, getting into my eyes from a fast downhill run.

The green apple we ate at the side of the road. Crisp, not cold, but fresh.

I wish you could smell this photo. It has scents of wilderness and industrious humans together.

We wonder about the people driving in their cars with the windows up and air conditioning running. We downshift at the same time. No, actually, I've been in my lowest gear for a while now. There's no more gears to shift down to, although I still check and press my lever, but there's no response from my bicycle. The response comes from the muscle burn in my thighs as I dig deep and wonder how long I can sustain this grade. If it doesn't get any steeper, and that's really the top, I can do that.

Leaning into the wind

We're supposed to head into a wind advisory tomorrow afternoon, up to 65mph gusts in the late afternoon from the south. 

We dealt with wind on our first ride, but that was 3 years ago for me. I haven't ridden a bicycle with wind as a major factor in some time. 

Heading into our lake camping spot, we knew our tailwind would turn into 3 miles of side-facing wind. To resist being blown around, I had to lean into the wind with my right shoulder. Pushing against this invisible force to maintain an upright position. Holding onto hope that the gust wouldn't dissapate and down I'd go. Hoping I'd be strong enough to lean the bicycle over and not be blown into the traffic lane. 

Three miles. That was it. This was doable because I had an end in sight. We'd make a left turn, and the wind would be on our backs. Three miles, and speeds would increase back to the 14mph we'd been doing. Three miles, and my odometer was showing every tenth accomplished. 

Leaning into the wind is a scary feeling when you haven't practiced it much, but having these other bits and pieces of the big picture made it better. The wind doesn't last forever. It can actually be quite predictable. It can be strong, but I can be smart about it. I can control my machine. If I couldn't, there would be other things to do to reach our destination. 

Tomorrow is another wind day. Using a bicycle as a method of transportation to travel great distances is all about these challenges. It's different than passing on the Saturday ride because of possible rain. It is calculated risks; we won't unnecesarily persist in the face of dangerous conditions, but we'll wake up earlier than we'd like, get out before the afternoon winds pick up, and lean into it. 

Day 8: Stronger

Yesterday (Day 7) I noticed that I was feeling much stronger. Things finally clicked into place. It takes awhile for these changes to happen, and once they do, it's that half-hour into the ride, realizing that my seat wasn't uncomfortable any more. I wasn't searching for more gears to help me go uphill. Actually, I'm enjoying adding a gear to help with the push up to the top. This is the accomplishment a week into the ride. This is where the first few days were really worth it. 

I'd have a hard time with a shorter tour- a 3 day weekend, a one-week trip, because I wouldn't get to this point- the hard work paying off point. Now, I feel like I could ride for months. But, I'll take what I can get, and I'll enjoy every day out here a little bit more as I'm getting stronger. 

We've been fortunate to have the wind at our backs most of the time; that may change tomorrow. We've been blessed with some cloud cover, until today, with sunburns and melted m&ms to show for that. But also, amazing skies. 

Day 5: What a bicycle tour is all about

We started out of Kirkwood Ski Resort, headed past this frozen lake: 

7 miles to Carson Pass! It's the only pass open across the Sierras right now, the PCT crosses here. A lovely German couple shared a cup of coffee out of their van at the top parking lot. 

Sped down Carson, the downhill lasted forever. It was worth the three days of climbing. 

Once we reached Carson City, we were able to meet up with Sam and Virginia. 

We camped out at Lahontan State rec area, where it was quite windy. And empty. 

Road Ruminations: Gratitude

One of my AP Psychology summer assignments was to ask my students to start a gratitude journal. In a funny way, "It could be worse" is a way of expressing gratitude. Being thankful for what you have. Today (Day 4) was full of gratitude... and none of it was framed with "it could be worse" (except for maybe the macaroni and cheese I overcooked in the coffee pot, because there are no restaurants open in Kirkwood!)

I'd like to shout out to Caltrans for an amazingly smooth ride and wide shoulders on the 88 in Amador County. They're some of the best roads in the country. Seriously.

Grateful for the other cyclists of the world. Literally, the world. We're an amazing group of people you may not even know that they do this kind of stuff. The post office worker who cycled Japan's islands. The guy with his boat who told us about sleeping under bridges in Oregon on the Pacific Coast ride. The women at Starbucks in Fairfield, who dreams of getting a roadbike by August so she doesn't have to get knee replacement surgery. She explained she was sidelined for a couple of years because she had to take care of her sick folks, but she's back on the bike and making time for herself. The vehicles with bikes on the roof racks and car racks that give us thumbs up and waves as we ride up hill.

Grateful for the encouragement by strangers. Well wishes of safe travels have far outweighed the one truly ugly insult we had shouted at us.

Grateful for the cold breeze coming off the snowy mountains.

Grateful for the courteous drivers, giving us plenty of room and safely passing.

Grateful for everyone making this journey happen.

Grateful for the technology to share it all with you.

Day 2, 3, and 4: California

These days have been so all encompassing of California. From the state capitol to Folsom, to east Folsom which is mega malls and new housing developments, the agricultural and wine lands, and then into Gold Rush era towns, and now in a ski resort. There's so much diversity here, and it's really represented when you travel west to east.

We started Day 2 in Fairfield and ended it in Folsom. Most of the day was exclusively bike paths that connected UC Davis with Sacramento, and then Sacramento to Folsom. UC Davis's bike network is pretty amazing, and it's all flat. I recognize that the amount of people on bikes back home can be limited by the geography- there are some steep hills in western Chula Vista neighborhood for getting around to places. But Davis? Most people were on townies. Davis has every bit of the college town vibe I imagined it would have. Mike and I split a $5 breakfast burrito at about 10am, and enjoyed evesdropping on the conversation of the group of young guys at the table next to us, drinking beer on a beautiful Saturday on the patio, and sharing reasons why they'd never go back to a strip club.

Old Town Sacramento was like any other old town I've been to- full of tourists, trinket shops, and overpriced food. The wooden boardwalks and the cobblestone streets were not fun for the bikes. It was pretty quick to get to the American River trail, that ran 23 miles into Folsom. If we didn't have such a long day ahead, I would have gotten out my swimsuit and swam a bit- this was Sunday, so there were plenty of people enjoying the water. It was the smart decision to pass, because all of the hotels were on the far side of the town, and we clocked in at 90 miles for the day around 7 pm- a total of 8 hours riding time.

The longest miles of day 2 were the last 5-10 miles. Once the well-signed bike path had ended, navigating the smaller roads was a challenge. We hadn't eaten lunch, all of our water was lukewarm, and brains were not as sharp as they are when they are well rested. The hotels of Folsom were near the freeway (as most towns), and I was suprised to see all of the new development being built. The mall, dinner and breakfast options, and the strip mall after strip mall reflected Generic California Growth. Fancy names of communities, multiple sign directories, each community crediting the developer, 10 Starbucks in a 10 mile radius,

Day 3 started in Folsom and ended in Volcano. This was the first day into the Sierras, mostly through foothills until Plymouth, where we stopped in for some basic groceries, and then it was truly the Sierras. The change from the overlooking the valley to the pine trees as we gained elevation made it a little easier to deal with the challenge of uphill. Now we're entering seasonal tourist regions. Places aren't open midweek. We were thankful to find a toffee shop that had a cooler of cold Cokes for sale that happened to be open (but Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday cyclists would be SOL). Lunch was clif bars, bread, gummy bears, and a danish swiped from the Fairfield hotel. We had a decision to make at 3pm: either go uphill another 10 miles to find a camp spot at Cooks Station, or go downhill for 6 miles to Volcano where they had hotel rooms. We chose down.

I knew from the map "Ram's Horn Grade Road" would be twisty. I wish I could have paid more attention to the scenery as we flew down, but all eyes on the road, and nothing else at 30mph. As the 6 miles ticked by at record speed on the odometer, I was thinking about how long it would take to get back out of this canyon. Those same 6 miles would feel like 24 miles, at least. But, when we got to Volcano, it was the right decision, because we were beat. It was a tough climbing day, and the next day would be as well. There was a fabulous restaurant- the Union, and a cool 1850s hotel that is supposed to be haunted that we stayed in. And we figured out a plan to get back to the junction from the previous day that did not involve going back up the hill.

Day 4: All climbs, all day. Our average speed was 6 mph. We completed 32 miles in 5 hours of actual riding time, and 2.5 hours of break time. We started at 3,000 ft elevation and ended at 7,900 feet of elevation, but that's not including the 800 ft decent and reclimb... twice. Not a lot of places that we actually passed through. Historical landmarks of wagon trains and settler trails. The road actually wasn't incredibly steep, because they are paved over wagon routes. But it was first gear all day... all day.

Tomorrow is downhill. Tomorrow is Nevada. Tomorrow is farther from home. Tomorrow we'll start to see even less people.

People have had a lot of things to tell us about the road in Nevada, but like all things, until you experience it yourself, you don't really know what it's like. My favorite description is "It's very Nevadan." Touching the edges of the state many times, I'm excited to really get to the heart of something new. I know California. I know both the coastal and the rural, the small town life and the big city happenings. It's amazing to think a few days ago we were in a friend's apartment in Downtown Oakland on First Friday, and the people in the Oakland coffee shop are just as friendly as the people in the Cooks Station diner.

Pics to come, meanwhile, check out the Instagram link! (You can view, you don't have to have an account)

.Day 1 of the Western Express

Not gonna lie, this day was harder than I thought. I'm homesick. I see the bunnies in the vinyards in Suisun City, the artichoke plants along the highway 80 bike route, the red tailed hawks overhead, and all I can think of is how I could see these things in my own backyard at home.

A quick breakdown by the numbers:
Modes of transportation utilized today: 4 (feet, car- returned the rental- BART and bike)
miles travelled: unknown, but estimated between 50-60 (fixed the magnet at Vallejo, so number tomorrow)
unique roadkill: a snake and a chicken. Didn't see what kind of snake, but it may have been a rattler, and I'm pretty sure it was a Buff Orington chicken in the bike lane. Just one.
random strangers I introduced to my blog this time around: 3 to date

Tomorrow's destination is still unknown. It's a balancing act to end a day at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains. I'm pretty sure that will be two days from today.

Things I'm looking forward to:
easier navigation on a single highway
no right turn lanes
remembering my sunscreen tomorrow
calling my babies at home, sending them postcards.
actually getting the elevation and milage stats
climbing the Rockies

an unexpected ride

So, my family and I came to the decision that I'd be leaving on this next ride somewhere between Monday and Tuesday. 

"Leaving" meaning, my stuff is packed, ready to go, and I'm outta here once the final school bell rings in a few hours at 1:08pm, Mike and I will be headed to Oakland tonight, and on the ACA Western Express route tomorrow morning. 

I'm not totally new to these last-minute trip decisions. A few years ago Dave and I made the decision to go camping in the Sierras for 10 days, so we packed up our 2 year old, our tent, my 7 month pregnant self, and an empty ice chest within 24 hours from "would it be crazy if..." to on the road. Dave just finished a job interview, it was Independence Day weekend, so we figured he wouldn't get a callback for at least five days (or longer, being a government type job). Either he'd get the job and he wouldn't have vacation time for awhile, or he wouldn't get the job and we'd pay off the credit card a little more slowly. It was free camping and food we'd eat at home anyway... so just the price of gas was our rationalization. 

I should clarify- this trip wasn't totally unplanned. Mike had the maps, the route, the timeline, his plane tickets to the States. I just wasn't going to go. There was a tiny possibility of joining in somewhere along the route, but I didn't seriously look into it much. 

When Mike rode the Atlantic Coast last year, I realized how difficult it is to be invested in somebody else's ride. I didn't really care at all where he was, what he was seeing, how many miles he did, or how many days it rained. Maybe I was protecting my ego. Maybe my life was just too busy to be invested. Not that Mike sent out a lot of updates either. A few, here and there, but I wasn't inquiring.

I value having that perspective as I'm leaving for this ride. I probably wouldn't read my own blog if I were on the other side. But maybe you're somebody planning for a ride, and you're drinking this up as inspiration. Or maybe you're just not the type to ever want to do this, and you're searching for that reason of why somebody would ever subject themselves to a journey like this. Maybe you're a student of mine, and you're learning more about me as a person outside of that teacher in the front of the room. Or maybe you're my mom. :)  Regardless of who you are, thank you for reading, and the comments are always appreciated. 

I'm celebrating my village at home that made this happen. My husband, who has always been encouraging and supportive of the rides, but this time, wouldn't hear of me not going. After this ride, I'll be in the lead by 3:2 for adventures, and I'll make sure his Alaska motorcycle ride will be an epic one in the future. My in-laws for their support and encouragement in making this all work out. There's probably a lot of "behind the scenes" conversations I'm not privy to, and that's okay. They'll both make sure things are running smoothly at home. My mom, for giving me her blessing to go, even though she's going to worry needlessly about my well being, and her willingness to take on extra childcare whenever I need it. Friends opening up their homes for a night. Our childcare providers for being flexible with schedules. Our workplaces, for being accommodating to our varying parental duties, like shifting Dave's hours a bit so he can both drop-off and pick-up in the morning. Our union bargaining team, for all they do for public education employees. I'm truly thankful that I'm spending my summer recharging my batteries, and I don't have to worry about a summer job, or giving up my personal, unpaid time to do classroom preparation, and my right to a personal voice outside my professional persona is protected. I could go on and on. 

It is my intent to keep this blog updated more than the last two rides. I realize that was my intent for every ride... maybe third time is a charm. I've got notebooks full of things I'd love to publicly write about. So that said, I'll keep this "short" and save some more thoughts for next time. Thank you for reading.