Oregon: The End of a Journey

Leaving the Pastor and his wife was as difficult as leaving my brother in South Dakota but I knew I was hitting the home stretch of the trip as we would be in Oregon by the end of the day. The wind slowed us down fairly quickly and we hadn't put many miles in for the day before we decided to take lunch in the town of Caldwell, ID at a small restaurant called TNT's Dynamite Grill...Alright so I'm a big fan of AC/DC but even I was a little taken a back by the corny name of this place, but Jared wanted to try it so I decided to give it a whirl. When we walked in I fell in love. It's the perfect kind of little diner that I had grown to always long for in each town and it featured a counter top with bar stools which always gets a place bonus points in my eyes. We had a nice lunch and decided to splurge on a hand spun milkshake (always a good idea). I think what really did us in was the great conversation we were enjoying.

Alright, brief aside rant...McDonald's is a great place, I'll just say it. Along the way McDonald's provided a chance to wash up in a bathroom, charge phones, fill up water bottles with ice water, get a lot of calories for cheap, and drink as many refills on soft drinks as we wanted. We needed places like this along the way, but the diners were truly some of the best times we had.

We chatted with the old men sitting there next to us who come in every day and with the twin sisters who owned the place, and it was worth every penny. What was even better was that they didn't make us pay a single red cent! Now this wasn't the first time we had been treated to a free meal at a restaurant as back in the town of Marshall, MN and a coffee shop in Redwood Falls, MN. Still this place was a huge blessing to us because of the heart of the givers. They said that if pastors could give us a free place to stay that they could at least give us a meal. It was particularly warming to us because these were foul mouthed women who on more than one occasion expressed regret for saying things that they thought would offend us. I kept wondering how many people in the church have given these women the impression that they need to become perfect before they can set foot in a sanctuary because here they were feeling sorry in their own place where we were outsiders. I couldn't help but wish we could have made a greater impact in their lives to help heal some of the wounds that the church may have inflicted on them.

It was probably the first time that I was sad to leave a restaurant that wasn't an all-you-can-eat buffet, but we had a state border to cross and one more to push through ahead of us.

The border crossing into Oregon was one of the least ceremonial crossings of the trip as there was no state sign to take a picture with and upon entering the state we were not greeted by an absurd number of good coffee shops, hippies, or even a bike lane. We're in Oregon aren't we? This feels just like Idaho. The roads are lined with irrigation troughs that make use of aluminum tubes to spill out into the onion fields, but this was nothing new. Where is the rainforest that I envisioned this state being? We had a long way to go until we reached the stereotype I guess.

Our first night was spent in Vale, OR, a small town with not much there but they had all we needed, a Nazarene church willing to let us sleep inside and a diner. The church was pretty old but we were given the basement to sleep in with the added bonus of having "beds". Jared slept on a couch and I found a padded medical table in their youth room to be pretty comfortable. The youth room was like a picture of the 80's and 90's with posters for Ray Boltz and newcomer Steven Curtis Chapman. It also had a bumper sticker posted that said something to the affect of a condom being able to protect you from HIV, but not from Hell. It shouldn't surprise you that I decided to take care of this terrible message for them by confiscating the sticker.

We struck luck in Vale a second time when the pastor's wife told us that she owned the diner at the other side of town and that we could get whatever we wanted for free for breakfast. I'm not usually one to take full advantage of someone's hospitality but I decided that this was the perfect time to try the most expensive item on the menu so I ordered the ribeye and eggs. It was decent, but at the price of $0 you couldn't beat it.

Oregon in a nutshell is a lot more dry than I expected it to be. It also was surprisingly hilly as we climbed massive hills with no relief from the sun's harsh heat rays. Each drop of sweat that trickled into my eyes helped me push through as I was developing a love hate relationship with this state that was supposed to be so magnificent. In the town of Mitchell we went down to the only restaurant that was open and got to talk with some locals but aside from that I wasn't really enjoying this place all that much.

But then we hit the "town" of Ironside. I don't mean to make fun of Ironside because it was a great place, but in reality this was only several ranches that happened to be in the same area so calling it a town wouldn't be an accurate description. This was the kind of place that we would have never thought about stopping in because there were no businesses or anywhere we would think we could sleep, but as I was kneeling down on the side of the road working on my wheel because it was developing a wobble, a woman named Liz pulled up in a big pickup truck. She had driven past me and told Jared to wait for me because I was working on the bike and was coming back to check on me to see if I was alright. Then she went ahead of me to tell Jared to wait up and that I would be there shortly, but what I didn't know was that she was going to offer to let us stay with her and her husband at their ranch where they had a bunk house we could use.

Any guy in our riding group knows what I decided on in this case. Let's see, go further to a town where we won't have a house or stop short and be inside. Some people would want to get the miles but I'm not some people as each mile is never easy for me.

Fortunately Liz and Bob were a joy to spend time with. Liz is a horse veterinarian in Boise, ID and her husband Bob is a rancher who specializes in sheep, which he learned how to raise while growing up in New Zealand. They offered to have us in for dinner with them and while they prepared it we got to settle in to their bunk house which was more like a guest house than anything. I was half expecting to walk into a shack with a bunch of bunk beds where they housed migrant Mexican workers, but we were treated to our own beds made out of logs, a shower, and bear skin rugs. This was pretty swanky by our standards, and so was dinner. Liz made grilled chicken breasts, salad, and red skinned potatoes (or as Bob called them, spuds) that were picked from their garden right before dinner. After a night of great conversation we took them up on their offer to help ourselves to their hot tub which we sat in until well after 1am which is not late for me most of the time, but considering we were asleep before 10pm most nights on this trip it was really late. Still we enjoyed the relaxation and time to discuss important life matters like girls and what the world would be like if we didn't have to wear clothes.

The next morning we woke up to a nice breakfast with our new favorite couple before they had to head off to work. As the trip progressed I was starting to find it difficult to say goodbye to people we met more often.

After about a mile I got a flat tire which was awesome because Jared and I were running out of tubes again. We thought all of Oregon would have bike shops every five miles, but Oregon was more cowboy country than a hippy culture. We fixed the tire and pushed on...and up. Yeah there were a lot of hills on this day as Oregon quickly became a place of constant mountain passes. I'm not exaggerating about this as there were more mountain passes in Oregon than any other state save for Pennsylvania, but you can't really call those hills passes. Fortunately we were starting to see some trees. They were only aspens so the land was still dry, but it was some relief from the heat.

I still wasn't satisfied with this state, but then I came up over a pass leading into Prairie City and I finally realized why people would risk dysentery to get through this state (we had been riding on the Oregon Trail for a long time so it was always a fear that I would get it or have to wade through a river). It was perhaps the most fun downhill I had experienced up to this point of the trip as it was steep and yet still lasted a long time. This was also the first time we saw some snow capped mountains since leaving Wyoming so we knew we were getting into some less dry areas.

Prairie City was also a cool place for us because we met our first real Oregonian. I of course mean the generalization of an Oregonian that I had coming in to this trip which is someone who cares about the environment and rides a bicycle. Jim was an awesome guy and after sitting down for dinner at a local restaurant we decided to take him up on his offer to let us camp in his yard. After a short ride uphill to his home we set up camp and got to chat with him and his wife Karen about cycling. Turns out they are hoping to one day do a ride where they hit as many baseball games along the way as possible. This resonated with me enough to have a moment of regret for not thinking of the idea myself, but it was nice to talk with another friendly couple for the second night in a row. Oregon was quickly starting to challenge Minnesota for nicest state all trip, but this would be put to the test later on as we would witness road rage several times.

The next few days were spent riding through dry conditions that we had come to expect and we thought there might never be any relief from this climate. Then we hit Prineville, a town not far from the Cascades. While in Prineville we camped at the Nazarene church and decided to catch a movie at their local theater. Of course they weren't showing Captain America but Jared was desperate enough to want to see Cowboys and Aliens. I decided to not join him and find something better to do. Five minutes later, after having ridden around the town I came back to the theater because there was actually nothing better to do. Sadly the movie was every bit as bad as rottentomatoes.com had warned me, and even worse if you ask me. I had nightmares about how awful it was all night.

The next day we were setting our eyes on a short day to the town of Sisters. It wasn't going to be a hard day by any stretch of the imagination save for a few short and steep hills so we decided to stop in the town of Redmond at a coffee shop called the Green Plow. It was there that I had my first satisfactory Oregonian quality espresso which shouldn't have surprised me because they were roasters as well.

Jared decided to head on to Wal-Mart and I chose to push on to Sisters ahead of him so that we might make it to the town at the same time for a change. I actually ended up getting in about an hour before him because he left his Klean Kanteen at the coffee shop and had to double back to get it. I was glad for the opportunity to finally enjoy discovering a town first. This seems petty I'm sure, but when you get to a town first you get to be the one with the inside information when the other arrives. I had grown tired of always getting in to town and hearing about everything they had as soon as I arrived so on this rare occasion I made sure to get the full lay of the land so I could tell Jared all about it.

Sisters is one of those places I would like to own a home in one day. It's nestled right at the base of the Cascade range in a small touristy town. It felt a little like DuBois, WY in many ways but a bit more charming. After taking information for a $1.5 million home that was for sale I checked out all the town had to offer and recommended a Mexican restaurant to Jared when he got in.

The town of Sisters was a bit like DuBois in that we had no idea where we would sleep that night, but fortunately there was a national forest surrounding the town so we knew we were legally allowed to camp anywhere we wanted outside of town. We found a nice spot on a bed of pine needles and fell asleep in quiet which turned out be a blessing in disguise. The next morning we would have to climb our last major pass of the trip after breakfast.

That last climb would be McKenzie Pass which would prove to be relatively difficult. It started off very gradual for several miles and along the way we passed a young couple who were doing pretty much the same ride as us so we were feeling pretty confident in our abilities. Then a man who was riding a lightweight road bike came up to talk with us right before the hill became steep. Of course this meant that I would either fall way behind him and Jared or I would have to overexert myself. I chose the latter for pride's sake and was quickly winded and sucking down all of the water in my Camelbak. This concerned me a bit because we knew that on this particular day we would be pushing from Sisters to Springfield which was a long haul. We were told by Carson that there would be a nice long downhill for 20 some miles after the climb so that was encouraging, but in the back of my mind I questioned if this would actually be 20 miles or if there would be more climbs after. I was doubting whether we would make it all the way or not.

When we got to the top of the pass we met a man who was interested in our ride and as gesture of good will he gave us each an 8gb SD memory card which will probably last me the rest of my life so it was a pretty good day. The lookout tower at the top of the pass was made from lava rock which I thought was pretty cool and you could see Mount Hood way off in the distance so we knew we were somewhat close to being done.

As we started out down the hill we were quickly greeted by uphill stretches which was making me question my friendship with Carson. After about a half a mile we reached a point where the terrain seemed to be leveling off and I thought to myself, "man, what was Carson smoking that made him exaggerate the distance of the downhill that much?" Fortunately the level terrain was merely the distance across the length of the mountain range and we came to a point when we would get to go back down. For almost 25 miles we sped down switchback after switchback which was quite dangerous because it meant we were literally zig zagging down the mountain, going around sharp bank turns relatively fast despite squeezing our brakes as hard as possible. Along the way there were signs indicating the elevation every 100 feet you dropped and it amazed us how long it was taking us to drop so far.

After all that downhill we decided to stop for lunch at a restaurant where we ate overpriced burgers, but we didn't care because we were finally on the other side of the mountains and it finally felt like the lush Oregon we thought we would find. For the rest of the day we pushed pretty hard to make it to Springfield, a bustling suburb just out of Eugene. On the way we were treated to a ride along the river beneath shady trees with waterfalls lining the road. It was magical, very reminiscent of the Delaware Water Gap when we first entered Pennsylvania. I was thrilled, but the realist in me couldn't help but vocalize a bit of disappointment because after riding all the way to Oregon we were experiencing beauty, but it was all to similar to the beauty we experienced in the first week of the trip. Why hadn't we just stopped and rode all over Pennsylvania? I guess the payoff really isn't found in the beauty one gets to experience at either ends of the country on a ride like this, it's seeing that there is beauty in many forms all the way across (except South Dakota and Wyoming).

When we reached Springfield we were a little surprised to find that it was a bit on the city side, heavily populated and built up. It had the feel of an Illinois or New Jersey suburb in some ways, but that may have only been my perception as a result of having spent over a month in scarcely populated places from the time we left Rochester until now. Still Springfield was a place I was very happy to find myself in. I knew that just a week prior to our arrival at the Nazarene church Carson had spoken during their service after having completed his ride into the ocean so we knew were right on the doorstep of completion. After eating a dinner prepared for us by the church, we set up our tent on the lawn and drifted off to sleep, knowing full well that we only had tomorrow ahead of us.

What I didn't count on was that the distance from Springfield to Florence was still relatively significant. The church invited us inside for a shower and breakfast and prayed with us before we set off on our last daily journey. It didn't take us long to reach the city of Eugene which is large by all accounts and reminded me of how much I had come to loathe riding in cities despite their network of bicycle routes (they did us little good because we were unaware of how to navigate them). We made quick work of the place after a short ride to the Oregon football stadium where we took a series of pictures of us doing the O-H-I-O to demonstrate our lack of respect for their team as proud Buckeye fans. A brief stop at McDonald's allowed us to charge up our calories for the rest of the ride to the coast.

From Eugene to Florence I can't say I particularly enjoyed the ride. There were nice stretches leading into the coastal range but there was also so much more traffic than we were now used to. As we came upon a small town along the way I mentioned to Jared how much I wished there was a Dairy Queen somewhere up ahead. Not more than a minute and a half later we came to one. It was eerie and coincidental but we had to stop because it seemed like a divine appointment.

After our ice cream break it was nothing but riding. The coastal range had one more pass which was really just a short steep hill, reminiscent of any hill early in our trip, but the rest of the day was hilly nonetheless with long gradual inclines that we had to grind through. As we reached the last small town before Florence things got better with encouraging symbols of hope; a river on one side of us and railroad tracks on the other. Rivers are usually a sign of things being flat. This is not always the case as sometimes the road goes up and down drastically along the river (Snake River entering into Idaho was this way or Delaware Water Gap). Railroads however, are always at a gradual incline and this was the most encouraging part. The road along the river was almost completely level, but now in lieu of an absence of hills, the mind became my greatest obstacle, and a mountain at that.

I had tackled mountains along this trip that were far more physically strenuous than this last flat stretch of pavement. I had taken on some of the most boring stretches of land I have ever seen in Wyoming and South Dakota, and yet this last stretch of level pavement along a beautiful river with lush trees and mountains on each side was the most difficult mental test all trip. My greatest weakness was being aware of how much further I had left to go. Every ounce of my being wanted to take the foot off the accelerator and coast into the ocean on fumes. It's like running a race and seeing the finish line. You want to sprint and know you should, but your mind and body want you to just stop short of it instead of sprinting straight through it. For two months I had worked hard, earned spectacular views and experiences with pools of sweat (and in some cases blood). The bottom line is that I wanted to have things the easy way for just these last 15 miles. I rationalized it in my mind, "Matt, you only have 15 miles to go. That's how many miles it was to ride from school and around Lake Hefner and back. You've done that a hundred times without a problem." Yet each pedal stroke felt like I had never ridden a bike before. We reached 10 miles from Florence, "Matt, this is only a ride around Lake Overholser, a walk in the park." I wanted to trick my mind into thinking that the remaining miles were nothing, but while 10 or 15 miles was just a drop in the bucket compared to how many miles I had come, my legs had miles of wear and tear on them and my will to fight was not equaled by my body's strength.

As each mile slowly passed I started to have to stop more frequently to let the blood back into my legs, the oxygen back into my lungs, and most importantly, the feeling back in my butt. Fortunately Jared was willing to stick with me as on this day he had decided it was important that we both get to finish together and the road afforded us a generous enough shoulder that we were able to ride side by side the remaining miles, but just as friends despite what Jared may have hoped.

We were closing in on the town of Florence and were within just a few miles. That morning we got an early start because we had hoped to arrive at the beach during daylight for the best pictures possible. The trip wasn't really all about finishing and getting to the ocean, but I would be lying if I said that I hadn't day dreamed about the glorious moment of riding up over a ridge and seeing the ocean out in front of us. That moment had been playing in my mind ever since the first day when we left New York, and as much as I tried to keep it out of my head so I could focus on the present, not a day went by that I didn't think about it...

Unfortunately the moment that I had hoped for was not to be, and yet I was too tired to be upset. We would make the coast, but as we rode up the river we saw a thick layer of fog that seemed to be growing at a rapid pace. There would be no outrunning this fog as it had already overtaken the landscape in an eerie fashion. As we reached the town of Florence we could barely see the town limit sign just a few feet in front of us, and upon reaching the town we discovered that we would need to ride three more miles north to reach a beach access since there are sand dunes in the way when you first reach the town. Three miles felt like a hundred at this point. My mental wherewithal was all but dried up and were I not so tired I may have tried to climb over the sand dunes to reach the ocean without riding those extra miles, but sadly I knew we couldn't stop. There was the brief thought of just sleeping and riding those miles the next morning to the ocean when it would be clear out, but after two months of anticipation we were ready to bring about the conclusion of this adventure and wouldn't have been able to sleep had we tried putting it off until the next morning.

After riding those few miles we found ourselves winding through what appeared to be ocean front homes. They reminded me of the homes in Huntington Beach, California, the town that Jared and I went to every year for spring break. We hadn't been able to this year because with the trip approaching we realized that working that extra week might be the smarter thing to do. I'm glad we made the decision we did because now it had paid off. We were enjoying a coastal experience now with extravagant homes. The only differences were that it was really cold (my nose was running and I wanted a winter coat) and instead of palm trees there were evergreen trees on the properties.

Then we reached sand. In the moment our brains stopped working and as a result we decided to drag our bikes through the sand until we hit water. As we approached the shallow water washing over ice cold sand we began to frolic.

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There was no better word for it! I'm sorry, what do you want from me? I'm not proud to admit this, but in the moment I frolicked much like a child before that moment of lost innocence when a child starts to realize there are other people around them and they begin to care what those people think. My moment of lost innocence came relatively early in my youth. I remember it being probably around when I was ten. I once yelled like an idiot at professional sporting events, but now I couldn't show that enthusiasm or joy. That was my moment, and for years after I always envied those who didn't seem to care what others thought. The guys and girls who could dance and be goofy, typically those one might associate as being the popular kids. I never thought it would return.

But then on that cold and foggy day, a 23 year old stick in the mud from a small town in Ohio frolicked. He danced like a child and exclaimed how joyous an occasion this was. Thousands of people have ridden a bike across a country, it's not as rare or unique as most people think. Even more have set foot in the ocean, probably almost everybody in the United States I would venture to guess. In that moment I didn't care how trivial an act it was. I danced. I screamed. And then I rode my bicycle into the Pacific ocean.

And that ocean is cold! Geez you wouldn't believe how cold it really was. After standing in the water for just a couple minutes while Jared took pictures for me, I jumped out as fast as I could.

In May I graduated college. I was a first generation student and I understood that this accomplishment should have been a proud one, but in all honesty graduating college was not a big deal to me personally. I found no joy in that moment because it was not something I had long dreamed of, and yet we celebrated. We went out for lunch with friends and family. We took pictures with people we might never see again. We received cards with money and kind words.

But the most joyous moment of my life came in August. It happened on a quiet beach in Oregon on a cold and foggy day with only a few people around who I didn't know. The celebration was small in comparison. Instead of being congratulated by loved ones, we were told how incredible it was by a few elderly people who had just finished dinner at the hotel restaurant right on the beach. Instead of a dinner with all of our friends and family, it was just Jared and I, first at Taco Bell for appetizers and then Pizza Hut for the most elegant stuffed crust meat lovers pizza we had ever eaten. Instead of cards with money and kind words there were text messages. There was no ticker-tape parade held in our honor, just an open spot on a church's property reserved for our tent.

It wasn't the end to the trip I had always dreamed of. It was better.

Thank you for joining me. I told you we would make it eventually.

Idaho: You say potato, I say awesome!

Leaving the Tetons was more of a happy moment for me than I would have expected. Sure I loved how inspiring the mountains were and the place would be a great family vacation spot because it's not as crowded as Yellowstone to the north, but I never did feel welcomed in this place and so I rode away with a smile on my face. The coast was out in front of our noses with just a couple more states to go.

After leaving the mountains we were treated to a long stretch along the Snake River through Jackson Hole, WY and into Idaho. In Idaho Falls we were treated to a hotel room by Jared's grandfather. Idaho Falls was a pretty boring place mostly but our hotel room was huge and had a balcony that overlooked the man made waterfalls and Mormon temple so it made for a nice relaxing day to do nothing. I treated myself to Chili's bottomless soup and salad for lunch and got my money's worth for sure.

From there we hit the interstate and rode on the shoulder all the way to Boise. I'll keep my commentary brief on what happened in the state of Idaho but there were some things worth mentioning.

In the town of Pocatello we were allowed to camp outside of a Lutheran church. What the pastor failed to mention is that anywhere you see grass in the southern part of the state it is because of irrigation. We woke up at 2:30am to a flooding of sprinklers on our tent. My blackberry and camera were ruined and we had to sleep in soaking sleeping bags the rest of the night. To top it off the pastor arrived the next morning and said, "Oh, I was afraid that might happen. Anyway the church is open now so you can use the restroom if you want. There are some restaurants down in town where you can get breakfast." I never said a word to the man because I'm sure that if I had they would have been less than friendly after such a cold response to an event that did $600 in damages to my stuff. This is the reason you're reading about Idaho so long after I finished the trip because without my blackberry I was unable to post until I finished the trip.

Leaving Pocatello was as happy a moment as leaving the Tetons but the anger I had for the pastor kept me from wanting to leave until around 4pm. Still I was motivated and felt like I could ride all night and do as many miles as possible. What I didn't count on was that the highway would be pitch black and we would stumble into a stretch of construction that narrowed the interstate to two lanes making it a virtual death trap for us. Luckily God provided as a young couple coming back from a rafting trip stopped to see if we needed a ride into the next town. They even offered to let us camp outside of their yard and made sure to turn off their sprinklers. This would be the first of several times we would be offered a place to stay by random strangers. The trip was becoming more and more difficult mentally and emotionally, but God kept giving us little bits of encouragement in the midst of trouble.

Twin Falls, ID was a pretty cool place for us. We stayed at the Nazarene church in town and decided to ride to the mall and catch a movie. We wanted to see Captain America or Crazy, Stupid, Love but neither were playing there so we settled on Horrible Bosses. Just doing civilian things was a nice change of pace, but we were quickly reminded that we're cyclists when we went to Golden Corral and ate until we couldn't take any more abuse. The next morning as we set out to leave the town we stopped there again for breakfast and ate so much we couldn't talk because there was food all the way up our throats. After a brief stop at a travel information center above the canyon in town we were off for a nice scenic route down into, and through, the Snake River canyon. It was encouraging to get off the interstate and see some actual sites along the way and not take in exhaust fumes as much.

In Mountain Home, ID we joined the Nazarene congregation for worship on Sunday morning and enjoyed fellowship with them before heading off to Meridian, ID, a place I was very much looking forward to getting to.

Alright I'll admit it, my commentary on Idaho has been pretty boring. I wouldn't at all blame you if you stopped reading well before I'm saying this, but give me a break. To be honest most of our route through Idaho was so boring I wanted to fall asleep on my bike. Unfortunately the constant headwind was making it very difficult to do so and riding each mile was pretty miserable. It felt a lot like the parts of Wyoming that weren't mountainous. It got better when we hit Meridian.

Why would I be excited to reach a place I've never been to before? Well the first pastor I ever had growing up was currently the pastor of the church in the town of Meridian and I was looking forward to seeing a familiar face since it had been a long time since I last saw Ricky in South Dakota. Pastor Tim was a joy to spend time with for two theology students. Here we find ourselves invited in to stay with a man who was once the pastor of the Nazarene church in Kansas City, which is like Mecca for Nazarenes, and yet he was the example of humility, never speaking as if to know all the answers, and yet it seemed that we were learning more from him about how to be a pastor than we had in all four years of college, and we were. Our time at SNU was good for shaping us into theologians, but just two days with Pastor Tim and we felt so much more encouraged in our ability to handle being a young pastor who would inevitably make mistakes.

All the learning aside, our time in Meridian would have been great even without the formational conversations we were able to have with the pastor. We had our own rooms, a shower, good company, and to top it all off, the pastor spent his off day taking us out to McCall, ID, a small town tucked away between mountains with a beautiful lake surrounded by aspen trees. It was a remarkable place that we would have never been able to see without adding significant mileage to our trip, and in hindsight it would have been worth it. The white water along the drive was fascinating to me as it roared with a power that was humbling to me, knowing the river would swallow me up if I set foot in it.

Pastor Tim also took us to a Christian campground that the district now owns and is actively cultivating. Now we have some familiarity with Christian campgrounds, having even stayed in one back in Michigan on this trip, but this place was incredible! The cafeteria had high vaulted ceilings with a huge stone fireplace and views of the mountains surrounding. The coolest part about the campground is that it is being worked on by those in the district and people lend their talents and resources to improving this place. Seeing a district invest itself into a project like this is encouraging and made you wonder if there wasn't something in the water out here in Idaho that is making towns grow rapidly and churches thrive.

Pastor Tim and his wife Cindy cooked us the perfect cyclists meal of steak and veggies. I honestly wasn't sure I was going to be able to leave them, which is saying quite a bit because I wasn't overly in love with the geographical features of the state of Idaho, and yet the people create an excitement that draws you in.

The next day we would reach Vale, OR and stand only one state away from the ocean.

Grand Teton National Park

Leaving out of Dubois, I was pretty eager to reach the "main event" so to speak. We had been surrounded by mountains for awhile but I was told the Tetons would be unreal. I should have probably known that seeing mountains so brilliant would come at a cost, but I still hadn't developed any sort of sense about things to this point. We climbed, let me tell you. Even though there was a river along the way, we climbed back and forth plenty of times, leaving me to wonder if there was any way we could build a raft out of spare wood. I mean if Tom Hanks could do it, surely a couple college guys could do it, but alas there was no rope or even videotapes that we could make rope from.

And so a steady climb lay ahead of us but we made our way up each hill and tried to not look too far ahead. As the mosquitoes drank from my legs like I was a Hawaiian Punch soft drink fountain, I knew I was moving pretty slow but the blood was a small price to pay for the views we got to see on this day. We climbed Togwotee (toe-gah-tee) Pass for a good part of the day and halfway up we stopped a small lake that was nestled against the Pinnacle Mountains where there was a good deal of snow right on the water. I'm from Cleveland where I once went to an Indians game that was snowed out at the beginning of the season, but seeing this much snow in July was crazy to even me. I dipped my hand in the icy cold water and it went numb almost immediately. I imagine the fish in that lake were pretty lethargic from the temperatures but sadly I didn't have a fishing rod and there was still a lot of climbing to be done.

After reaching the summit (of which isn't marked at all) I experienced the pure joy that I can only remember feeling as a kid when you go down a hill on a bicycle or a sled. As the wind rushes across the surface of your skin you feel alive with each hair rising to see what all the fuss is about. You know that with just the wrong piece of debris (in Pennsylvania we had a fork kick up off the pavement and several of us hit it) on the road or hard gust of wind, you could fall from your steel steed and find yourself bouncing to a painful death.

As an aside, the thought of death entered my mind very early on when Carson fell off his bike and broke his helmet while not even going all that fast. I happened to be right in front of him at the time and was not wearing my helmet. In fact, there were much steeper hills prior to this accident that I went down without a helmet on at much faster speeds. When Travis fell on a busy road later in to the trip, where he could have easily fallen the wrong way and had his head land right in front of a car's wheel it only further made us realize just how powerless we are as cyclists. We're passed by hundreds of cars each day and it would only take one driver not paying attention to kill one of us.

With that being said, I never was any more cautious on hills. The fear of death often made me ride a certain way. I would stay further to the right than necessary or turn on my lights when it wasn't that dark out yet, but on hills I never hesitated to let the weight of my bike take me as fast as I could go.

I reached the overlook where you can see the whole Teton range off in the distance and about 800 feet further down the hill I saw the most beautiful sign I had come upon in a long time. It said 6% downhill grade for 8 miles. Now I hate climbing, know this about me. I started this trip a bit overweight but by the time I reached Wisconsin I was at a very healthy weight and would consider myself in pretty good shape by that point. Still I'm not a small guy by any means and gravity was not kind to me while trying to climb up hills. I never did get much faster at climbing from the beginning to the end. I can say that at the beginning of the trip I had to stop every 50 feet and let the blood back into my legs, but by the end of the trip I could climb any hill without needing to stop, but I wouldn't say my actual riding was faster. Why do I say this? Well I want you to understand that climbing is not something I'm good at, but there was no hill too big to make me quit, and the only reason is that I always knew at the top of a hill I would get a downhill at some point.

But not on Togwotee. Just a couple miles after seeing the beautiful sign I came upon road construction where Jared was waiting for me so we could load our bikes into the back of a pickup truck that would take us down the hill. I kept wishing that we had been coming the opposite direction and quickly regretted feeling sorry for the people I had seen a few minutes before who were climbing in the opposite direction since they clearly just got a free ride uphill.

I felt robbed. I had just climbed one of the longest hills all trip and now I couldn't feel the wind on my face because they made us sit up front, but I did find relief in knowing that the worst was behind us.

As we rode through flat fields full of wild flowers (and even more mosquitoes) with the mountains right out in front of us I knew that I had made the right decision for not giving up back in the Black Hills when I briefly considered getting a job and staying with my brother for the summer. This place was amazing and for the next couple days we would make this our home in a park that Jared had spent last summer working in.

Unfortunately the warm reception we received back in Custer State Park was not matched by Grand Teton National Park. On the first night we stayed with a guy Jared had worked with who had an apartment at one of the lodges. He was a stickler for rules which was understandable, but he invited us to camp out back in his yard when his couches were left empty. All trip I had never found myself lacking appreciation for people's hospitality, but I guess I judge the heart, not what we receive, and in this instance we found ourselves sleeping outside in the cold mountain air behind a home of someone who had plenty of room inside and who knew Jared well enough to not lack trust. It was a bit frustrating but I was just happy to not have to pay for a campsite.

The next day we joined Jared's "friend" for lunch at the employee dining room at Jackson Lake Lodge. It blew the one at Custer away which is really an understatement because the one at Jackson looked like a real buffet restaurant compared to Custer's break room appearance with just one option. Still I found myself wishing we were back at Custer because of one key benefit: at Custer the food was free.

Now I should be fair, the cost for the meal was something ridiculous like $3 a person, but I was beginning to become fearful. My belief was that it was okay to stay as long as either of us wanted in any place so long as the time we spent in that place only cost the equivalent of one day. For example while we were in Custer for five days we had free food the entire time and free housing. We only paid for souvenirs if we wanted them so at the end of five days we still spent less than we would on just any one given day. At Teton we were off to a bad start because Jared thought it would be fair to spend as much time there as we did at Custer, and understandably so, but if we had to pay even just $3 a meal for two meals a day, at the end of 5 days we would be quite a bit over our one day budget of $15-20, not to mention we had to pay to get in to the park and we still had no real idea of where our housing would be.

Fortunately one of Jared's contacts came through for us and gave us a complimentary hiker/biker camp site for two nights, and Jared felt like we would be able to eat in the employee dining room for free while we were at Colter Bay where he had worked. Even if we weren't allowed to eat for free at the dining room we were bailed out because a travel group called Backroads invited us to join them at their group campsite for meals since they always made more than they needed. After a few meals with them I started to feel like a beggar but I was just happy to not be paying for it.

On the first night at Colter we walked in to the dining room and were able to eat all the meatloaf and mashed potatoes we wanted without any problems. Then we rode down to the lake to sit by the mountains for awhile and properly digest. Finally we finished the night off by making a fire at our campsite before bed. Needless to say I was enjoying this life, but the next day would be a little less inviting.

It started off just fine. I woke up and joined the backroads group for breakfast. They had breakfast burritos with avocado which is my favorite, coffee, and a homemade coffee cake which was just what I needed for a long day of relaxing by the mountains.

I picked out the perfect spot along the lake and sat down at a picnic table to write a few posts for the blog on my blackberry and was pleasantly surprised to meet some very friendly people. First an older woman and her daughter came by to take some pictures of the mountains. I suggested trying to shoot the mountains through the wild flowers and helped them take a few. It was nice to just chat with fellow vacationers without being viewed as some crazy lunatic who was riding a bicycle across the country. While the feeling of being some kind of unique celebrity was nice at first, after awhile I just wanted others to view me as being one of them.

After the women left I took some pictures and continued to blog, taking breaks in between to feed some trail mix to the tiny squirrels that were all over the place. I was amazed at their courage (or naivety) as they would wander in close enough that I could touch them. In fact, one of them even walked up on top of my sandal which made me freak out a bit and scared them off for a couple minutes.

As I was packing up my stuff at the lake a man named Jack came by. He was a rather imposing looking guy but no at all intimidating due to the globs of sunscreen on his nose, cycling jersey, and handlebar bag on his shoulder (not a manly look). Jack was a real piece of work. The guy had survived cancer and opened his mouth about wanting to do a ride across the US to raise money for research. Just as I had once opened my mouth and got forced to follow through, Jack's church decided to buy him a bike and send him on his adventure so he was going to do it in two sections and had made it here from the Oregon coast that I had my eyes set on. After talking for awhile about our faith we exchanged information and I headed back to my campsite for no reason.

After a nice long nap I decided to venture out for dinner so Jared and I walked in to the employee dining room where we were greeted by a chubby punk of a kid who was working there this summer as a security guard. Jared went up to him and asked if we could pay to eat there since he had been allowed to do this for his ex-girlfriend the summer before. The guard told us we couldn't and when Jared mentioned that we had been allowed this privilege at Jackson Lake Lodge, the guard told us we should go back there.

So we left without causing a fuss and found a seat on a bench not far away. While we were chatting with an older couple from Germany who were doing virtually the same ride as us, our luck ran out. The security guard came over to apologize and got to chatting with Jared while I continued my conversation with the German couple.

Being greeted by park rangers is never a good thing and it turns out that the security guard was only chatting with us to try and keep us there until the rangers could arrive. They split us up and made us tell them all kinds of details about the past week of our trip from where we stayed to what we ate, etc. It turns out that the security guard had fabricated information and told the rangers that we had been staying in the park for over a week, eating at employee dining rooms the whole time. Jared dropped the name of his friend from Jackson Lake Lodge, the one who made us sleep outside, so I didn't feel bad about it at all, but after we produced documentation showing the meals we had eaten and how long we had actually been at the park we were let go. The chubby kid didn't win this time, but after this experience I was thrilled that we were leaving the next morning.

My Review of Novara Safari Bike - 2011

Originally submitted at REI

Novara Safari is the ultimate adventure-touring bike, built for dirt roads, heavy loads and exploring new abodes.

Novara Safari Bike - 2011

I Stand Corrected

By MattOHOK from Cleveland, OH on 9/7/2011

 

5out of 5

Pros: Comfortable, Responsive, Good Geometry, Handles Well, Sturdy

Best Uses: Long Distance Touring, Commuting, Casual Riding

Describe Yourself: Avid Cyclist

Was this a gift?: No

I originally wrote a review of the 2011 model prior to taking it on tour. After logging 600 miles of pre-tour riding, I toured from New York City to the Oregon coast fully loaded with panniers on front and back. While I did make some alterations to the bike (Tubus rear rack; Jandd front rack; clipless pedals) the bike would have performed just fine without them.

Some of the best features of this bike are the grip shifting, wide tires, and trekking handlebar. The shifting is precise and allows you to run through a range of gears quickly and accurately. The tires can go up to a 45mm and at one point on tour I replaced one of them with a 42mm. This allows for a nice smooth ride at the cost of some speed (touring is slow anyway) and for a guy my size (240lbs prior to trip) having a sturdy tire under a heavy load was important. The tires it comes with are nothing special. I would ride them until they start producing flats but then replace them with Schwalbe or Vittoria tires for less fuss.

The handlebars are great because they do allow for a multitude of different hand positions which is crucial when you're on the bike for hours each day. As with any bike, much is personal preference so upon purchasing this product, give yourself some time to tinker with the saddle height, saddle tilt, and handlebar tilt to dial it in just right.

I will also note that under heavy load this bike is a tank, and not in a bad way. While it was difficult to get up hills, the gearing is enough to allow you to gear down into a manageable gearing that enables you to keep pedaling while the bike is moving slowly. Once you get the bike moving it likes to stay very steady and can be a joy to ride on the flats once you pick up some momentum, yet this bike is very responsive when you want it to be and still very reliable while flying down steep hills (reached upwards of 45mph).

All in all this bike is a dream and I must change from my original 4-star review simply because for the price this bike does everything you would hope it would do. Even though those I rode with were on more expensive bikes (Surly LHT and Fuji Touring) I felt my bike was better for me personally than their models. Consider this bike a dark horse and give it a test ride.

(legalese)

Douglas, WY - Grand Teton National Park...Low Population Because the Wind Blew Everyone Away!

*Due to being so far behind (you'll read about the reason eventually) I'm attempting to catch up through an abridged series of posts. Stick with me now, we'll get to the coast before too long!

Douglas, WY – Grand Teton National Park (Jackson, WY)

The day out of Douglas was personally one of the top 5 most difficult days for me personally. I should explain it in pretty basic terms.

-Wyoming is windy.

-Wider objects produce more wind resistance, making it harder to move.

-I’m a significantly wider person than my riding companion.

-I went a lot slower.

This wind was unlike any we encountered all trip as it either hit you head on, almost stopping you dead in your tracks as you tried to pedal uphill along the shoulder of a busy highway, or violently from the side, almost knocking you over onto the ground. I struggled and this was the day that I actually posted about wondering whether or not it was really worth it to continue going or not. If you’ve read my posts you may not know exactly which one I’m referring to, as it seems that I often had doubts like this. I’m referring to the short post I wrote because I actually posted it while standing on the side of the road that day out of Douglas, all the while praying that someone would offer to give me a ride into our destination of Casper where we would have a rest day with Jared’s friend Matt Roark.

You may wonder why I kept riding if I seemingly always wanted to not be doing so. I’ll explain that in my after trip thoughts when I get to that post.

Sadly nobody stopped to ask if I was alright and as daylight kept burning with me gaining very little ground, I was beginning to become discouraged. Then as luck would have it a motorcycle tourist stopped to check on me. You’re probably wondering why I would be excited about a motorcyclist stopping for me. Well, I wasn’t excited so you’re clearly a good critical thinker. A motorcyclist can do very little to help a stranded cyclist aside from offer food, drink, or a cell phone. All I wanted was a ride into a town that felt too far away so I told him I was fine and off he went. Long story short, after waiting for two hours on the side of the road with my front wheel removed and held up (supposedly a distress signal for cyclists), nobody stopped. This was particularly discouraging because we knew there was literally nothing between Douglas and Casper, save for a few ranches, and during those couple hours we saw countless empty pickup trucks that we almost knew for a fact were heading to where we needed to go. My faith in humanity was almost dried up despite all earlier encounters (or rather, my bias toward the East being superior to the West was becoming stronger).

Then Jared’s friend Matt came out to pick us up and miraculously save us. His house is on top of Mount Casper and after driving up in his truck through steep switchbacks I was grateful for not having to ride. The next couple days were spent relaxing at Matt’s house, going to a county fair, being treated to meals out by an awesome man of God, and feeling adopted yet again by another person who was not either of our parents. This is one of the greatest joys of riding a bicycle across country.

After departing Casper we spent the next night camping in a roadside rest area that explicitly did not allow camping, but after a call to the police we received permission as it is understandable that sometimes you just have to camp in the middle of nowhere when confined by the limits of a bicycle. From there we made a memorable stop in Riverton, WY where we stayed with Pastor Eric of the Nazarene Church in town. Eric is a really solid young pastor who seems to be moving the church in a good direction under God’s leadership and while being destroyed by mosquitoes at his softball game was not quite as enjoyable as I initially thought it would be, getting to talk to a guy who is not too much older (relatively) to us and who is doing ministry in the church was encouraging. I’ll admit that prior to talking to Pastor Eric, I was somewhat scared, okay I mean terrified, of a life in ministry, and yet I could not help but feel pulled back in to this irresistible calling. Pastor Eric made me realize that being young was not an acceptable excuse. I’ll share more on this train of thought later though.

Leaving out of Riverton, the theme for me was the stunning first views of snow capped peaks and the growing terror of potential bear’s with insatiable appetites painted a beautiful contrast in the way I viewed this seemingly mystical land that I knew I was just outside the proverbial golden gates of. The day out of Riverton also was memorable because it was our first encounter with our own growing sense of adventure after it began to come at a cost of increased danger. How so? Well riding into bear country is in and of itself a dangerous act when you are on a bicycle because to the bear you are a tasty treat that moves just fast enough to make it fun to chase, but slow enough that they don’t have to work too hard to make it worth the calories. We decided to take it to another level on this day however as we not only did not make arrangements for where to sleep (it’s important to not leave food out so that took away stealth camping being a safe option) and we weren’t making good time on the way to the next actual town of Dubois (Dew-boys with a cowboy twang). So as we hit a small “town” with a closed gas station and library we were forced with the decision of whether to just camp outside a church without permission or press on to Dubois through the dark. We’re adventurous (dumb) by now remember? Guess which option we chose.

So riding through the cover of complete darkness, up through mountains with the fear of bear attack, Jared and I made our way to Dubois. We got some stunning views of the sunset as it disappeared beneath the mountains and then we were left with only the light of the stars, our battery powered bicycle lights, and the headlights of cars flying past at only a couple feet away. There were times I wondered if we would have had better odds of survival wearing meat pajamas and camping outside of a bear den (where bears would naturally be too distracted playing chess and smoking pipes in their smoking jackets in a den furnished with people skin rugs).

We did make it eventually, all the worse for wear. Our butts were sore, our hands were numb, and we experienced the coldest temperatures all trip in the higher altitudes. Thankfully we had no idea where we would sleep that night (sarcasm). The K.O.A. campground in town wanted $28 for a primitive (ground and bear box) site so we decided that the Stage Coach Inn would be a better option if we could get it for just a little bit more. Having grown up in a family that is almost twice as large as almost what the travel industry considers a normal sized family, I picked up on the trick of smuggling some people in for a cheaper rate. This is unethical, but we were desperate and weren’t really willing to pay twice as much for a room just for an extra bar of hotel soap, so Jared went in to negotiate for a room with the friendly woman in the front office. She asked him what he could afford and agreed to give him the room for the $50 he and I agreed we were willing to spend. It was luxurious to have a room of our own with a bed and shower and television we could watch (I squandered this opportunity by watching an episode of “Martin,” the “show” starring Martin Lawrence that relies on him having freakishly large ears to garner laughs from the audience).

The next morning we got up and walked to a diner that we both enjoyed. I particularly liked the skillet they had, while Jared particularly liked the waitress with musculature that was clearly either a result of her profession or what lead her to the profession in the first place (not saying she was manly, but the girl could carry some plates). After we were full and Jared was temporarily in love we headed back to pack up our stuff before checkout. While riding out of the parking lot the nice lady from the office stopped Jared and in a sort of motherly blend of guilt and compassion, told Jared that he “duped” her. He smiled and she smirked and when asked whether she would have given the same rate for both of us she said of course not, but that she hoped we had a safe ride and to take care of ourselves. Wyoming doesn’t have many people and generally speaking I hate the state just as much as South Dakota, but most of the people we did meet were saints. It was almost as if they were trying to make up for their lack of numbers.

Leaving Dubois was exciting because Jared knew what was ahead of us and I could only dream of what it might actually be like. In many ways I felt a special blessing never having been to most of the places we rode through. It reminded me of my first Spring Break road trip to visit my grandmother in Huntington Beach, California when I took Jared and a friend also named Matt. Jared and I had been to an ocean and even California’s coast specifically, but Matt had never seen one. It was awesome seeing how much that wonderous ocean meant to him and it was something neither Jared nor I could really fully appreciate or understand, that is, until I finally saw the Tetons…

…To Be Continued…