A new home for VeloTraverse...

Dear friends - I'm still in the midst of migrating all of the stories and tech reviews to the new home of VeloTraverse. It'll be much sleeker, and easier to navigate, and don't worry, all the old stuff will be there. I'll post the new link in the next week!

Conquering the Rockies...

Quick update...

It's my last night in Denver - after a week off the bike getting the rear wheel fixed, doing a lot of running, and getting plenty of rest, I'm heading out tomorrow. The weather is looking good, and legs are feeling stronger than they've ever felt before, so I've decided rather than head south in New Mexico, I'm going to tackle the Rocky Mountains. The plan is as follows:

Sunday: Denver - Fairplay
Monday: Fairplay - Aspen

The obvious challenge here being the numerous mountain passes, with the end of the day Sunday being the most formidable obstacle: crossing Independence Pass.

As hard as it may be, I'm feeling more pumped about this part of the trip than I have at any other time. I'll let you know how it goes...

See ya out there,
Ben

Social Awareness...

Experts say that humans have far fewer Olfactory receptor neurons than other primates and mammals, but let's face it, unless you're French, you can recognize the stomach-turning scent of B.O. from a mile away. Whether it's some unshaven Smith College graduate, the bum under the bridge, or that smug jackass next to you on the Eurorail, in some form, you've been assaulted.

When packing toiletries for this trip, my trusty Old Spice High Endurance in the 'Pure Sport' flavor was at the top of the list. Even if I haven't had a shower, this stuff gets slapped on in the morning. Not that I'm particularly smelly, but because even though for 9 or 10 hours I might be on the bike away from humanity, even the stoned convenience store clerk I come across for 60 seconds buying my water doesn't deserve to be violated by an entirely preventable aroma.

And if you happen to be on a cross-country cycling trip, I think you'll find that deodorant might be the primary factor in whether people are interested in, or grossed out by what you're up to. Use the late Richard Daley's advice as a guideline for use: Early, and often.

Update...

Slowly getting caught up on the posts... Still having trouble with spokes breaking at the threads on my rear wheel, so currently stopped in Denver, CO... more details soon.

See ya out there,
Ben

Day 12

Long Branch State Park - St. Joseph, MO

I woke up at 5:45AM, determined to get an early start to the day, and polish off the 132 miles to St. Joseph - also the longest single-day ride I'd ever set out on. I packed up my tent, and in the morning chill, rode to the convenience store by the highway on-ramp to get water and coffee. I drank a large coffee, took my ibuprofen, and ate a snicker's bar, as looking at the map, there won't be food for 20 miles or so. At the convenience store, I sit down at a table while drinking my coffee. There, an older gentleman is clearly going through his morning ritual of scratch off lottery tickets. He walks up to the counter, buys a few tickets, and then sits down behind me to try his luck. Winning $5, he walks back up, buys a few more, and sits down again, scratching intently. After winning $7, he went up to get some more... by then, I was done with my coffee, so I walked outside... but I noticed, rather than walk away with the $7, he bought more tickets. I don't know if his luck continued to pan out, because it was time to get moving.

On this morning, I felt a kind of peace, and my legs felt incredibly strong. Even though I was slightly concerned about my rear wheel, I was cruising at around 17mph in the cold morning air, happy to be making such good time. I spotted an off ramp where there was a Mcdonald's and a wal-mart supercenter(these have grocery stores in them). I ate a breakfast of a McGriddle sandwich(800 calories or so) and a yogurt parfait, accompanied by an absolutely massive cup of coffee - I assumed today I would need it. I then rode down to the wal mart, and got a couple bananas, an apple, a gallon of water, and a powerbar just in case I needed more of a boost later.

After getting it all together, I got back on the road, amazed that my legs were feeling so good. I imagine the cross training the other day helped, and the huge dose of coffee was probably working in my favor. I've also realized it's pretty key to consume enough calories in the morning - sure, there aren't always good options, but even if it's a snickers bar, or McGriddle sandwich, something has always proven to be better than nothing.

I was making good progress, and the wheel, mercifully, wasn't getting any worse. The winds were in my favor as well, as my speed hovered between 16 and 20mph for most of the morning. The only problem with route 36 through Missouri is the construction going on - usually it is 4 lane, but for now, many sections are are down to two, with a limited shoulder, so sometimes the automobile traffic is a little too close for comfort. As such, I rode in roadside debris a little more than I cared to, and sure enough, 3 miles short of the 100 mile mark for the day, at around 4:00PM, I got a flat. Pulling out the tube, I noted that, because of riding so far into the available shoulder, I pulled three pieces of steel wire(a lot of truckers wear their tires down so far the steel belting hits the pavement, scattering these pieces everywhere), and two shards of glass. I decided not to use the new tube, and instead used my park tools patches(these things are an amazing, almost zero compromise solution), figuring I'd probably just do the same thing again that day, shredding an otherwise good new tube. After fixing it, I stopped at a McDonald's at the "crossroads of America" where route 35 intersects 36. I got a coffee and a chocolate milkshake, and also ate one of bananas, having eaten my apple, the other banana, and powerbar already.

Getting back on the bike at the hundred mile mark, I noticed that, oddly, my ass didn't hurt at all. By this point my legs were getting tired, and as I looked down the road, I could see the rolling hills I was about to tackle. Fortunately, it was only another 30 miles, but it wasn't going to be easy. Eager to get to St. Joseph, I put the hammer down when I could, often hitting 20mph through the rollers. There were a couple of climbs which were a mile of more long, but they were follwed by equally long downhills, so for the most part it evened out. It wasn't until getting closer, about 14 miles away, to St. Joseph that the rollers became more abrupt, making it tough to keep the momentum up. 5 miles away from the heart of St. Joseph, my legs had finally had it - the landscape flattened out a lot, but still, I was really plunking along, the speedometer reading just over 10mph much of the time. I really didn't have anything left in the tank, but as I pulled up to the campground(which only had 1 tent spot, oddly enough), I was elated - I'd ridding Missouri in two days - the first, totally hungover, and the second, I'd managed to crank out 132 miles!

Anyway, I was directed to a great Mexican restaurant called La Mesa only a couple blocks away where I demolished a steak quesadilla, and an amazing burrito made with pork that had been braised in a fantastic red pepper sauce. The only problem being, my hands were feeling pretty numb - as such, I couldn't create enough pressure with my index finger to cut with my knife properly, forcing me to eat somewhat like a caveman. Ah well, it was so good, and I was so happy after the big day, I could have cared less.

I got back to the campground, made a few calls, then used the wonderful, sparkling clean, and clearly brand new shower facilities, and went to sleep.

Day 11

Hannibal, MO - Long Branch State Park

I wake at 7, hearing Chris walk into the room, and he asks if I'm ready to go. Oh yeah. We get driven back to the Monte Carlo, get in, and zip back to Hannibal. We say goodbye, and I begin wrapping my head around riding 75-100 miles hungover... I decide pancakes and coffee at the Mark Twain Diner will help, so I go, have breakfast, and get back to the campground. I shower to wake me up a little, pack everything, and roll out of Hannibal.

I'm actually not feeling too bad, aside from definite dehydration, so I drink as much water as possible. 50 miles into the day, I am definitely tired, and realize that riding hungover is not all that much fun. Fortunately, for a good portion of my last 15 miles to Long Branch State Park, where I'd be camping for the night, the left side of the highway was closed - thing is, the road was there, so I figure, hey, why not, and ride on the smoothly groomed, fresh concrete. It was as I started picking up speed again that I heard the pinging I've come to hate - two spokes had given up the ghost, leaving me with a slight wobble, concerned because, according to google, there were no bike shops for, well, 50 miles. Super.

Thankfully, I make it to Long Branch State Park without the wheel blowing up. On the shore of the giant man made reservoir, I set up camp, and decide the next day, I will ride 132 miles, and make it to the border of Kansas where there is a good bike shop. I slept alright, aside from a Possum or Raccoon which, at a few points during the night decided to scratch at my tent and wake me up.

Rest day in Hannibal, MO...

Woke up mildly hungover, and immediately set about draining the gallon of water I had picked up the day before. In that same moment, I also decided that I could use a rest day/hangover day to
relax, see some of Mark Twain's hometown, and go for a run/do some cross training/core strength exercises. It's all fine and good if the legs are strong, but to put that power down, you have to keep your core, and the rest of your body strong. Plus, it feels good to "wake up" the other muscles in my legs by going for a run.

Finished off about half a gallon of water, and rode into Hannibal for breakfast. Somebody the day before had recommended the Mark Twain Diner, so I figured I ought to try it out. Looking over the menu, I am immediately drawn to the sausage biscuits with gravy. Oh yes. I ordered that, and set about chugging water and coffee... eventually compelling my waitress to simply leave a pitcher of water on the table for me. Then, out of the kitchen, my plate of sausage biscuits and gravy arrived... In short, it was glorious. So good, in fact, I didn't even pause to take a photo. The sausage was fantastic, the biscuits were buttery and soft without become soggy under the gravy, and the gravy... oh, the gravy. While my arteries screamed for mercy with every bite, there was a delightfully contradictory airiness to it - almost as though it were whipped gravy. Usually the gravy is heavy, ready to congeal if you don't eat it quickly enough, but this, this was perfection! I'm sure my breakfast was something in the neighborhood of 2,000 calories, but it was worth every bite. Bravo to the cooks at the Mark Twain Diner.

After breakfast, I grabbed an americano at the cafe down the street, then rolled over to the grocery store for some bananas, and to restock on bodywash. After that, I headed back to the campground where I digested for a little while, did my laundry, and then set about doing a little workout. Ran for 25 minutes at about 7-8 minute pace, then did abs, pushups, pullups, and lunges. Definitely felt good to work the whole body, and get some different muscles firing.

After showering, I put on normal clothing for the first time in what felt like a while, and texted Chris that I was coming down to Kerley's. In the summer, every two weekends, Hannibal has what's called 'Down By The River'. Essentially, it's a venue down by the river(clever, I know), and they have beer tents set up, and bands playing. Anyhow, I figured after eating dinner at Kerley's, I hit Down By The River, and then Chris had some ideas for the after party, so I cruised into town.

For dinner at Kerley's, I decided on buffalo chicken strips to be mildly healthy after my artery clogging breakfast. I then polished off a couple Shock Tops, which is a somewhat local wheat beer... and then had another. By this point it was about 8:30, and Chris wasn't off yet, so I decided to go check out 'Down By The River'. The band was pretty marginal, but as we'd all had a few beers, they actually weren't too bad. Anyhow, after watching for about 30 minutes, and being disappointed that the Budweiser tent(the only beer option) wasn't serving regular Budweiser(basically a crime againnst humanity), I headed back to Kerley's. The manager introduced me to the owner of Kerley's who was clearly already enjoying his Friday night, and putting some songs on the digital jukebox. I asked what it took to put in a request, and he said, "Hey, it's all yours... come have a beer when you're done." I look, and he's left $50 in credits on the thing. Score. I decide to be a smartass and divert from the country/rock that'd been playing all night, and selected all of my favorite hip hop/rap/electronic... Now, these Missouri folks may like their music white as cornbread most of the time, but I swear, the party got going, and people started dancing after I took over DJ duty. Unfortunately, just as things got going, Chris got done with work, and informed me that one of his friends who is a bartender 17 miles up the road in Quincy, IL had invited us up. If Hannibal is Boston, Quincy is New York City. I figure what the hell, why not.

We jump into Chris' Chevy Monte Carlo SS - which he'd modified with a big block monster of a motor that rumbled with anger when fired up... so much so that his ex-girlfriend Amanda who waitresses at Kerley's came over and asked us where we were going. From what I gathered, it was a dramatic breakup... but somehow, Amanda still wanted to take a moment to express disapproval over our plan to head out of town. She then said, "Chris, you know no matter which one of you is driving that they're going to pull you over, right?" Chicks... anyway, we roll out of town, gas up the monster(that motor sucks down fuel like nobody's business), and in 20 minutes, we're rolling into Quincy. We pull up to a fairly average looking bar, and go inside. Before I know it, the bartender has shots in our hands. Uh oh. And then another. I then realize they have my old friend PBR in the cooler behind the bar, so I ease off the throttle and have one of those. Then the bartender and Chris insist that we have to do their version of an Irish Carbomb. Except here, on the border of Missouri, it's Miller Genuine Draft with a floater of orange juice, and then get this, a shot of Amaretto dropped in. I looked at them both and said, "Look, I'll drink anything, but you've got to be kidding, right?" Nope. I figure hey, when in Quincy, do as the, ah, well, whatever. We toast, and then chug the concoction. Surprise, surprise, it tasted good. Like an Orangina, of all things. Who would have thought?

Anyway, I look over, and see a refrigerator with the biggest container of Miracle Whip I've ever seen... I was honestly amazed. So, I walk over, and pick the thing up, holding it above my head like a trophy for all to see like, when suddenly, a booming voice behind me says, "Put that down." Rut roh. When you're in a strange place, and somebody is that serious about you putting down the Miracle Whip, you don't argue. I put it back on the fridge, and turn around, to see this MASSIVE guy sitting at a table behind us. I go over and apologize, and find that he's the owner of the place. I asked him if he was sure he didn't want to turn his bar into a Miracle Whip slip-n-slide, and he assured me he did not, but said that he was glad I was having a good time. Amen, brother. As I hadn't paid for a drink all night, I assured him I was indeed having a fantastic night, and told him I rather liked his bar, which seemed to please him. He then proceeded to tell me about all the work he put into it, expressing great pride over his new, laminate floors. Anyway, a couple drinks later, and it was closing time, which in Quincy = time for late night. By this point I stopped wondering about when I was getting back to my tent, and instead focused on not doing anything too stupid.

We leave the Monte Carlo(neither Chris nor I are in any shape to drive at this point), and get into the bartender's car. The next place we go to is called something ridiculous, and is made up like a club, except it seems nobody is there. Wrong. There is a patio outside - a very nice patio, oddly enough, with heat lamps, etc, and it turns out this is where everyone had congregated. Why? Cornhole. Or beanbag toss. Whatever you want to call it, there were four sets, and EVERYBODY congregated inn this area. If not for lack of physical space, I think this would do quite well in NYC. Anyway, after an hour or two of this, I'm beat, and it's time to go... except, go where. Chris says, don't worry, we're sleeping at bartender's house. Um, okay. First though, we make a stop at Hardees for munchies, where I ordered two cheeseburgers, but not after seeing a truly ridiculous sign that would fly only in a place like Quincy, IL/Hannibal, MO:After this, we go back to bartender's house. At this point, I am completely exhausted, and ready to pass out, but they want to play cards. I say no, but am forced to drink a couple more shots, at which point, some guy comes to the door, scowls at Chris and I, and drops off a dog. Turns out this is her husband, whom she is separated from. Weird. At this point, I tell them I'm going to sit down on the couch, and not 10 second after sitting down, I'm fast asleep.