Day 4,5,6,7: Arizona

Day 4: Blythe to Salome 66mi

Day 5: Salome to Mesa 136 mi 

Day 6: Mesa to Globe 80 mi

Day 7: Globe to Safford 80 mi

We've had some tough days in Arizona! That's mostly why I haven't been updating. And, Mike thinks I'm on my iphone too much :)

 "Rain, after all is only rain; it is not bad weather. So also, pain is only pain; unless we resist it, then it becomes torment."–I Ching

I came across this quote when I was about to give birth to Bryan, and it really resonated with me. It came to mind as we've been dealing with the wind. It's just something that *is*, and you deal with it. 

Riding a bicycle in the wind isn't something you can train for (unless you have a wind tunnel.) Mike compared it to learning to sail in various weather conditions- you can't learn it until you experience it. I've become an incredibly stronger and smarter cyclist over the past week because I've had to. 

Riding on the canal bike path through the urban areas of Phoenix reminded me of the summer after seventh grade, riding bikes with my friends through Hilltop park, to the top of Inkopah's big hill and down again, not really knowing much about bicycles except the basic idea to ride one. The trails were more suited for kids' bikes and skateboards, not loaded touring bikes, but for a few miles, I rode like a 12 year old again, speeding too fast into the underpass tunnels to roll up the other side. Off the canal road, the bike path took us through wide residential streets at dusk, just enjoying the cooling air and trying to rush "home" before dark.

And home it was- our first night staying with friends instead of a hotel. To be welcomed with open arms by familiar faces, complete with fireworks set off to announce our arrival, was more rejuvenating than I expected.  

How different the terrain was once we left suburbia of Apache Junction. "The Old West Highway" led us to the base of the mountains, and then up, through old and new mining towns. This was a much different form of bicycle riding, one where true skill, experience, and knowledge of the bicycle and physics would be important. Using the gears, shifting your weight, reading the bumps in the road, anticipating what might happen next. Understanding how wind direction interacts with mountain passes. Strength to hold the line, strength to avoid slow speed wobbling while climbing up and up, strength to get back on a loaded bike facing uphill. Then, the wind picked up more, and it took all of my strength to walk the bike along the non-existent shoulder, when it became too unsafe to ride. 

We accepted the help of a generous stranger to give us a lift off the mountain. It was a smart choice. I would not ride this route again (Superior to Globe), it is not meant for cyclists. 

I have a greater understanding of why many polytheistic religions have wind deities. The wind is often personified with having a spirit of its own. I have much to learn about it- and having such an experienced sailor as a cycling partner is helpful. 

And so we ride on. 

Day 3: Brawley to Blythe

Day 1: I was searching for lower gears to get up those mountains. Day 2: I was looking for higher gears to get along the flats. Day 3: I think I used every combination of my 30 gears to get through the terrain. 

I had a brief conversation with Dave at our 2pm "lunch stop" aka Palo Verde's only gas station mini mart (ice cream sandwich and a bottled Frappachino). He said to me, "You don't sound like you're having much fun."

Fun is going down a giant water slide. Or being silly with friends. Or having a pink popcorn party with your 3 year old. Riding a bicycle across the North American continent? It has its fun moments. But today, "fun" is not my word of choice. 

Accomplished. Bad-ass. Rewarding. Exhausted. 

Today was the first day that didn't feel like just a day ride, and not because we were carrying our bags. If today's road was a day ride, there would have been a unanimous decision to call it early and head back for lunch. When you don't have that option, you push on. Into the headwind, up the hills, watching for the trucks, stopping to refuel, rehydrate, reapply sunscreen. When you're stopped, you realize it's about 88 degrees across the desert, and the wind is blowing harder than you thought. The green milage signs taunting you: "Palo Verde 7 miles; Blythe 27 miles," as you look down at the cycleputer's speedometer showing 8 mph, and that's all you can push into the wind. 

But we made our destination, had a warm shower, and heading out for some Mexican food. Within walking distance ;)

Stats for today:

Ride time: 7 hours, 48 min. 

Ave. speed 11.2 mph

Max speed: 30.0 mph

Miles: 90.26

Road treasures to date: a bag of pop rivets sent home with Chris on day 1, a pair of pliers outside of Glamis, and a brand new shovel that was left for somebody else. 

A-hole truck drivers: 2. 

Friendly drivers: 99% were very curtious giving us room on the road. Waving and honks of encouragement were greatly appreciated. 

Other tourers spotted: 3 (one tandem)

(My odometer is slightly off, need to adjust that later)

Thank you all for reading and your encouragement! 

This was before the hard part :)

Day 2: pine valley to brawley

If every day is like today, I'll be a happy snowman. 

As I rode today, I compiled a mental gratitude list: 

- for Mike, inviting me along on this 

- for Dave, who taught me to ride a motorcycle, and all of his advice. Look where you want to go through a corner, don't panic brake, things like that. 

- for Bill and Sandy for hauling our bags these first two days. We're on our own today, but we're done with the mountains. It really made a difference. 

- for Chris, who tailed us on his motorcycle. He caught up with us half-way down Mountain Springs Grade, rode behind me with his flashers, which kept traffic on the other side. 

- for Caltrans, keeping the shoulder of the grade clean of debris. It was a safe, smooth ride down. (Now if they could just look at Evan Hewes Hwy... That was rough riding)

- for the strong tailwind that pushed us about 10 miles

- for Alma. Those disc brakes saved me down the mountains. The low gears got me through the mountains. 

Upcoming posts: 

 - cast of characters

- gear lists

Ready as I'll ever be!

Day 1: Chula Vista to Pine Valley

A few stats for today's ride: 

Distance covered: 49.8 miles

Ride time: 5.5 hours (or so)

Average speed: 8.2 mph

Max speed: 35 mph, coming into Pine Valley

Total elevation gain: somewhere over 4,000 ft. 

Damage done: one broken mirror (as I was leaving out the front door!) and one skinned knee (mine)

Lesson learned:

-more sunscreen

- take more pictures (this was a little hard today because it's basically my backyard, no new scenery for me!)

- Save the caffeinated drinks for lunch and dessert for dinner

I'm taking handwritten notes to craft a few better posts later when I'm not quite so tired. I'll be posting from just my iphone from now, unless we have time at a public library or a motel with computer access. 

Yesterday's warm up ride to the Pacific Ocean at Imperial Beach. 

Today's only picture, coming out of Bonita, only about 6 miles in but probably the steepest hill. 

A Jello kind of day

I rarely lose my appetite. I'm not a person who stresses easily. Type B, roll with everything as it comes. 

But there I was, standing in my kitchen, fridge door open, with lots of food and nothing to eat. I subsisted on the jello left over from my bridal shower for the three days leading up to my wedding because that was a big, DIY production. I had just finished my first year of teaching the week before, running around trying to get all the last details together now that school was out for the summer, and jello was the only thing I could stomach. 

Fast-forward to the week before B was born. I thought he'd be early like his big sister, but he ended up being 3 days late. The waiting for a baby's arrival is all consuming in that last stretch of time. The familiar sense of just waiting for the big day to come, and not really knowing what to do with myself in the meantime, jello was an old friend to that nervous tummy. 

These past few days have been jello sort of days. 

The clock moves at the same speed it always does, but it seems fast and slow all at once. I have no idea what this trip will be like. Just like birth, anything you read, hear, watch, none of it will describe your experience that lies ahead. 

At least I can draw on my experience of anticipating the unknown? 

Maybe I'll have some more jello. 

"You're doing what again, exactly?"

I am riding a bicycle across the United States. From the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean.

ACA's Southern Tier Route

This isn't a huge deal. Plenty of people have done this before, on this route. We'll be in a town every night, so it's not as extreme as backpacking in the wilderness for a week, where chances are you won't see many people. These are paved roads, with cars, and cell phone service at least 50% of the time, and only a few stretches of 80 miles between services.

Okay, maybe it is a bigger deal than I'm making it to be. I don't know anyone who has personally done anything like this. Riding a bicycle 80-100 miles (127- 161 km) a day, every day, for at least 40 days, by my calculations. I'm prepared for temperatures of over 100 degrees F (37.7 C) through the deserts, but I'm not sure I'm prepared for the humidity of the South.

"What brought about this crazy idea?"

When I was in sixth grade or so, I dreamed of going on a bike trip. I think I read about an organized tour in the travel section of the newspaper one Sunday, and I asked my mom if we could do that. "Someday, sure," she said. She didn't exactly discourage me from this idea, but there certainly wasn't any movement to making it happen. Thinking back on this, from the perspective as a mother of a very persistent 3.75 year old, I'm now realizing Mom didn't really mean "someday" like my 11-year-old self interpreted it. I wanted it to happen next month. I wanted to start planning and GO. I was pretty dissapointed when "someday" didn't come soon enough, and I don't think it was mentioned ever again. I'd bet Mom doesn't even remember this conversation as a Really Big Thing.

Lessons learned:
Parents: be very, very careful about what you say to children. (I never got a tree-house either.)

image from Tree House Love

Children: Don't stop dreaming. Someday you'll be an adult and you can make things happen for yourself. (My tree-house dream has adapted somewhat, but that's another story)


So, when the opportunity presented itself, quite directly, might I add- I jumped at the chance. NZ asked, "I'm riding across the U.S. by bicycle. Anyone want to join?" How often do you get asked a question like that? Despite a few hurdles, I'm making this happen. We leave on Monday.

Meet Alma

I never really understood why people name cars, or bicycles. I suppose it goes back to naming ships- they're all transportation vehicles. Christening for good luck and all.  My first 'real' bicycle didn't have a name. A Specialized Dolce was my only bike. Dolce seemed good enough, meaning 'sweet' in Italian. And she is a sweet bike. But she won't be coming with me on this trip.

When I took home my Salsa Vaya, I knew she needed a name. Maybe I knew I needed all the luck and protection I could get for an adventure like this. And, I fell in love with her beauty. I really tried to objectively decide between the Vaya 2 and the Surly Disc Trucker, and take the looks out of the equation. Motorrad even offered to paint the Surly however I wanted if it was a better fit for me. But the Vaya stole my heart. 

I wanted a Spanish name, being a "Salsa". A few came to mind- Dolores? (rough translation: pain) Constantina? Too literal. And long. Fernanda is the feminine of 'brave adventurer'- okay, this didn't come to mind, I'm browsing the baby name sites by this point, and I like it, but I'm showing my teaching roots by admitting it has a previous connotation. 

And then came the name Alma. Soul. 

I liked that. It rolls off the tongue. Simple. Short. 

I looked up the name, just to be sure it really meant what I thought it meant; I knew I had the right name when I found this wikipedia entry:

 "The exact origin of the name Alma is debated, but it is most likely derived, in the female form, from the Latin word almus which means "kind", "fostering", or "nourishing".It has been most familiarized by its use in the term alma mater, which means "fostering mother", or "nourishing mother", and in modern times is most associated with a collegiate hymn or song, or to encompass the years in which a student earned their degree. Also, the Arabic word for "the water" and "on the water" are el-ma and al-ma, respectively. It may also be of Greek derivation, where the word αλμη means "salt water."  The name Alma also has several meanings in a variety of languages, and is generally translated to mean that the child "feeds one's soul" or "lifts the spirit."
 

 As I ride, and as I write, I hope this blog conveys why all these facets of Alma are important to me and my journey.