Day 13 Salt Lake City to New York City 2200 miles, climbing to an altitude of 35,000 feet

one last breakfast together, exchanging e-mail addresses, taking one last set of pictures together.  it was the end of the road for me and another day in the saddle for the rest of the group.

it was a good chance to say my good-byes and shake hands or hug one last time.

prior to the beginning of the first day's ride on all the aids rides i used to do, there is a very moving ceremony that would take place.  as the crowd of riders would all be gathered in some big hall to commence that first day of the tour, ride organizers and local dignitaries would first talk about the importance of all the riders and their efforts to raise monies for research and care funding and would inspire the crowds with their words of encouragement and support.  one by one, the various speakers would come up to the podium and thank us all for our efforts.  it was impactful and it was empowering.  then the mood would turn somber as the traditional ceremony of "the riderless bicycles" was performed.  a path through the crowds would be formed and a few selected riders who walk alongside their bikes, escorting these "riderless" bikes through the parted masses.  these riderless bikes symbolized those friends and loved ones would had fallen in the past to the devastating disease and were no longer with us.  as the processional began, they would always play the tune "bittersweet symphony" by the group, the verve.  it was such a moving moment before the ride began and there was rarely a dry eye in the house.

this morning, as i was outside watching everyone pumping up their tires, checking the route maps one last time, adjusting their helmets or cleats, loading their bags and filling their water bottles, i couldn't get that damned song out of my head.  the strain of those plaintive strings of the violins at the beginning of that song kept playing over and over as i watched all my fellow riders head out for the second leg of their cross country adventure.  as they rounded the corner and rode out of sight, i turned to head back to my room, to pack and to catch the shuttle to the airport for the flight home.  bittersweet indeed.

their second leg of the cross country trip started this morning.  part two of mine will start from this same location a year from now.

stay tuned.

Day 12 Rest Day

i woke up in the morning, hoping against hope that my shoulder would have recovered some of its strength.  there was no way i wanted to abandon this ride.  the rest day, i figured, would do me good, help my shoulder recover, and allow me to continue on to pueblo, colorado.

it only took the simple act of trying to brush my teeth to make me realize this was over.  as was the case yesterday with my water bottles, i had the choice of either bending my head down to meet my right arm to brush my teeth or do it left-handed.  as would be the case for the rest of the day, i became a lefty.

resigned to the fact that this ride was over, i rescheduled my flights back to new york and worked with the crew to find a bike shop in salt lake city that would pack and ship my bike back to my bike shop here.  by the way, for those who haven't been to salt lake city, it's such a clean, quiet little city.  not much traffic, no high-rise buildings, not a lot of noise.  just the beauty of the snow-capped wasatch mountains surrounding the city.  even the mormon temple wasn't that impressive up close.

i stayed with everyone on the ride and had one last dinner together.  everyone felt badly for me and wished me well, wishing also that i would have been able to continue to ride with them all. that felt comforting to hear.   in the end, i promised to meet them all for breakfast and see them off in the morning before i headed to the airport for my own departure.

it sucked.  i felt like crap.  but i also was lucky enough to know this could have been much worse.  peter, the new england college professor who had also been riding with us and who, like me, was leaving the ride at pueblo [and, with whom i was hitching a ride to the denver airport as he'd already rented a car for the occasion], had to leave the ride in elko, nevada when he got word that his father was being taken to the hospital.  on this last night together, we learned that peter's father had passed on.
yup, things could have been much worse.

Day 11 West Wendover, Nevada to Salt Lake City, Utah 118 miles 1400 feet of climbing

well, i gave it the "old college try" as the expression goes.

having no idea how well my shoulder would hold out, i woke up and conducted the same morning routine as on any other day during this ride.  stretched as best i could, met everyone for breakfast [i think i should have put money in the local pool that was running to see if i was even going to show up!], and prepped for the ride out of nevada.

i was stiff as hell, both in my legs and well as my right shoulder.  but there wasn't much pain, so i took that as a good sign.  better still, i had a bit more range of motion in my right shoulder than i did the day before.  but it still felt kind of dead.

given the extremely long day and the anticipated headwinds, we were leaving nevada for the last time just as the sun was rising above the salt flats.  it was actually quite a beautiful sight to see the morning sun coming over both the flats in the distance and the last of the escarpments in nevada.

the sunrise in the distance, we head out of nevada and into the utah salt flats

as we were staying on the frontage rode for a couple of miles, once again as i'd experienced on the louisiana/mississippi border, the "welcome to..." signs didn't exist as they would on a major highway.  instead, we got another line in the road.  this time, however, nevada and utah had the good sense to paint their borderline on the road surface instead of a mere chalk outline as in the aforementioned southern states.

the famous speedway was just a couple of miles off the highway.  another look at the "ocean" alongside the road.

about two miles into the ride, we returned to the shoulders of I-80 and started down the long stretches of the salt flats.  these broad swathes of land are amazing.  in some areas, they are covered with water and look like we're riding along the shoreline of some ocean.   in other areas, they look like the parched remains of some long-forgotten, drought-stricken civilization with nothing but broken down fencing or other vestiges of long lost life.

casting a giant shadow on the salt flats

i think i was successful in riding the first twelve miles of the day because i was powered by pure adrenaline.  when i tested my shoulder in my room before heading downstairs for breakfast, it seemed like i'd be able to manage the pressure of my upper body weight on the handlebars.  at breakfast, i soon became aware that i'd be eating left-handed as i couldn't bring my right hand up to my mouth.  still, i figured i didn't need to do that much lifting of my right arm, so i would still give it a shot.

however, twelve miles out [i would have gone farther, but that happened to be a highway rest area], i realized this wasn't going to work.  being right-handed, i would pick up my water bottles with my right hand to drink throughout the rides.  this morning, i quickly realized that i couldn't lift my bottles up to my mouth.  and the contortions i went through to duck down low enough to be able to drink would only work when my bottle was topped off.  as soon as the water levels in the bottle got lower, i still wouldn't be able to life them up high enough to draw water out of them.  and using my left hand, instead, to pick them up put too much pressure on my right shoulder, holding the handlebars.  it wasn't so much the pain.  that was just a dull sensation.  rather, it was the simple lack of being able to lift my arm.

still, the thing that really made me realize this was a fool's errand was in just holding the handlebars.  during a typical ride, i'll move the position of my hands along the handlebars every two or three miles.  it might be just to break up the monotony of the ride, to change the pressure points on my hands, or to readjust my hands to better manage a head or cross wind.  in any case, that simple act requires actually picking up my hands and moving them to another position along the handlebars.  that simple act of picking up my right hand wasn't working either.  in order to move my right hand, i was actually "walking" my fingers from one position to another.  at first, while it was an inconvenience, it didn't seem like such a big deal.  four or five times later, i was quickly coming to the conclusion that today's ride was about to do the same...come to a conclusion.  the sight of the upcoming rest area sealed the deal.  this was no longer smart.  this was no longer valiant.  this was now both stupid and, potentially, dangerous.

nothing for miles except scenery like this

so, with head hung low, i pulled off the highway and into the rest area.  as it was very early in the day's ride, both sag vans were also in the rest area, coordinating with each other as to where and when to set up the first pit stop.  i also think at least one of the crew had a good suspicion that i might be making an appearance soon enough.

i got off my bike, explained my situation and went to sit in one of the support vans, dejected.  through the most bizarre of incidents, my ride was over.  well, at least this day's ride.  there was always hope that i'd feel better in the morning.

the rest of the day was spent with andy kaplan, helping him and the other riders as a support van.  given that there were only two support vehicles, there wasn't an option to drive the two plus hours into salt lake city to get a further check up on my condition.  both vans were needed on the road.  so i popped advil during the course of the day and applied multiple ice packs to my various injured parts.  with the bags of ice on my shoulder underneath my bike jersey, i looked like quasimodo.

that's the great salt lake ahead of us. unfortunately, there was no higher vantage point to take a better shot, but trust me, it's huge!

it was interesting to see life from the other side of the bicycle for the remainder of the day.  i helped andy set up the first pit stop, forty miles out from the day's start.  there, i had a phone call with my physical therapist [my orthopod was on holiday -- yes, it's odd that i have both on speed dial -- kind of tells you that i've been through all this a number of times in the past].  i took todd through my symptoms and lack of range of motion in my shoulder.  being a cyclist himself and knowing that i really wanted to continue this ride, if at all possible, todd advised me accordingly.  he was basically telling me my changes of continuing were slim and none, but just the simple act of talking with him made me feel a bit better about my condition.  it also was good to bounce ideas off of him.  in the end, i was to call him again tomorrow to report on my conditions, including any progress or deterioration.  like i said, there was always hope.

with one good, working arm, the rest of the day was spent helping fill water bottles, playing "name that tune" with andy as we were driving, listening to either oldies or alternative rock stations, and picking up riders along the way who would abandon the day's ride.

i mentioned earlier that headwinds were anticipated for today's ride.  that's kind of an understatement.  as long and as hot as today's ride was going to be, the one common prayer that each rider had from the days leading up to today's ride was for a tailwind today.  it apparently doesn't happen often along this particular stretch of road, but it's something everyone wished for.  desperately wished for.  considering trading in your first born child for.  instead, what we got was a very mild headwind to start the day.  nothing to move the flags too much, but enough to refresh your face.  as the morning drew on, the winds began to pick up speed.  at first, they merely rattled the signs and occasionally stiffened the flags.  however, by noontime, we were passing signs warning of "high wind zones."  even the fastest of our riders were battling intensely strong headwinds.  bud and ken, our two strongest riders, hit the first pit stop doing a mere 16 miles per hour.  that's easily five miles off of their normal average speed.  and we were only 40 miles into the ride and the winds hadn't picked up their full intensity yet.

before the second rest stop, there was a tiny town called "delle."  nothing much in this dry, dusty little oasis between the highway and the salt flats but a gas station and convenience store.  a delightful man, who was very encouraging of our riders, and his son run the place.  nothing fancy, but a much needed respite for the riders before the second pit stop at mile marker 90.  there, every rider came in an, basically, bathed themselves in whatever cold liquids they chose.  some riders actually purchased a bag of ice, both for their drinks and for themselves, even stuffing ice cubes down their sleeves.  [maybe that this point, it would be good to remind you all that not everyone on the ride wore short-sleeve shirts, even during long, hot rides.  there was another school of thought that had some riders wearing thin, long-sleeve jerseys that they constantly wet down during their rides.  they insisted the wet sleeves kept them more refreshed than short sleeves.  and since those folks are still out on the course, who's to argue!]

by the second pit stop, at 90 miles, five other riders had called it quits.  the winds, by now, were no long blowing, they were gusting.  and no longer were they just headwinds.  from delle to the 90-mile marker, the winds would change direction in a split second, from cross to tail to head and back again.  there was no way to determine where it would come from next and, when it was a crosswind, many of the riders found themselves riding with their bikes on a severe angle into the wind.  it was quite unpleasant and yet, i saluted those to even got this far.  i was utterly amazed at those to were able to complete the 118 miles of the day.

eventually, andy and i made it back to the hotel.  there, i unloaded my bike and picked up my bags, just as i'd do at the end of every other day's ride.  however, this felt different as i was acutely aware that there was probably not going to be a "tomorrow's ride."

Day 10 Elko to West Wendover, Nevada 107 miles 3350 feet of climbing

first off, apologies for the delay in my postings.  but, as you'll shortly read, there was a really good reason.

early morning fog on the mountains

today's ride was another long, hot day.  the first half of the ride was a slow, steady but gradual grade off the valley floor that culminated in a very long, steep climb up to pequop summit.

did we make a wrong turn somewhere?  in the middle of nowhere, this exit shows up.  and nothing around it.

but as opposed to most of the days before, today started out very cool on the valley floor with fog shrouding most the mountains in the distance.  as was the case with the storm that we experienced the night before, the weather overnight was the cause of new conditions.  a front came through overnight that cooled things down dramatically.

it's always such wonder to feel yet another day of 100+ degree heat and look up to see snow-capped mountains

the ride out of elko started on the frontage road paralleling I-80 for about ten miles.  we then got on the highway and spent the rest of the day there.

as we rode down I-80, to the right, we fog was slowly lifting off of ruby mountain, the tallest of the mountains on the nevada side of the wasatch range.  it was beautiful to see, especially with its snow-capped peaks.

the canyon climb up pequop summit

again today, we experienced more road construction.  it's such a rush to be riding right down the middle of the highway with no cars around.   i spent much of the day riding solo.  occasionally, i'd either come up to or be passed by another rider.  i rode with gene for about five miles and with diego as the two of us battled our way up pequop summit, but the rest of the day was by myself.

the scenery on either side of the climb was worth the picture (and the respite!)

i've always loved the incongruous nature of the world around me, so i was particularly amused during my ride through independence valley.  it was basically a boring stretch of sand and scrub, sage brush and cacti.  and there, smack dab in the middle of nowhere, was a prison.  a prison, right in the middle of independence valley.  god, i love oxymorons.

as the day drew on, the weather began to change.  i got in before many of the riders as, as a result, missed the hailstorm and rain that soaked them on the last climb of the day.  but i had other things to deal with.

entering west wendover.  the salt flats really look like the ocean off in the distance.

coming over the last climb, we entered west wendover and, with that, our first view of the famed salt flats of utah.  honestly, the first thought that i and most of my fellow riders had upon seeing them was that we had hit the ocean.  from our vantage point, it really looked like water.

so, why the delay in posting?

i finished the 107 miles of ride.  i came off the exit on I-80, stopped at the stop sign, turned right and headed downhill to the last right hand turn that would lead into the hotel on the main drag of west wendover.  with the green light in my favor, i made the right hand turn.  well, sort of.  somewhere in the middle of that turn, with me doing probably around 17 or 18 miles per hour, my bike slid out from under me.  [for the next two days, everyone in the ride would speculate as to the cause of this accident].  i can't tell you whether i hit a patch of sand or if my front tire blew out [it was flat when i got back to my hotel room, but i don't recall it being flat for that last 1/4 of a mile ride to the hotel when i picked myself up and continued onward].

what happened during that slide and crash was a tumble of asses and elbows.  as the bike was sliding out from under me to my left, my right side was heading straight down towards the pavement.  i remember landing hard on my right shoulder, then my helmet hitting the pavement.  apparently, as all the scrapes and bruises would soon prove out, i not only hit the ground, i also bounced and slid.  somehow, i would up on my back.  lying there in the street, dazed and confused, two cars came up to me.  the woman in the white compact stopped next to me, rolled down her passenger side window and shouted out to ask if i was okay.  lying on my back on the street, i started to laugh.  i'm not sure, i replied, but let's see.  slowly, i got up, checked all my body parts to see if anything was broken and waved her on when i felt okay.  i got back on my bike, rode to the hotel, checked in and got my bike and my bags and went up to my room.  the only thing i knew at that time was that my right shoulder not only hurt like the dickens, but that i also couldn't raise my right arm above my waist.

i knew i probably needed someone with more professional experience and medical education to take a look at my shoulder.  so i washed off the remains of the street from my knees, elbows, forearms and thigh and went downstairs to find the ride leaders.  shortly thereafter, we all started to ask for the location of the nearest immedia-center or doc-in-the-box.  then reality struck.  we were reminded that we were in west wendover.  the only thing resembling what we were asking for was a health clinic somewhere on the west end of the town.  the reason i'm saying "somewhere" is that three different people gave us three different directions to this place.  and, mind you, the town consists of three casinos, two strip malls and a couple of gas stations and assorted houses.  it's not like you can get lost in this place, yet no one [all three directions turned out to be the wrong streets and distances] actually knew where the clinic was.

andy kaplan, our mechanic, volunteered to drive me to the clinic and hang with me.  after a number of wrong turns and attempts to find this place via google navigation, we finally fell into it in the midst of yet another u-turn.  and we were fortunate to get there when we did.  turns out the clinic was only open until five and we got there fifteen minutes before closing.  the folks inside were super.  friendly, encouraging and concerned.  i think that last part was a bit of wondering whether or not they had the right tools to diagnose whatever was my problem.  when i asked what happens to people with much more serious issues that occur after 5:00 pm, almost in unison, they all responded that salt lake city, over two hours away, was the closest hospital and trauma facility.  after about half an hour of questions, physical exams and x-rays, it was determined that i hadn't broken any bones.  but it was also likely that i'd either re-torn my right labrum or, worse, torn my rotator cuff and/or supraspinatus muscle.  that is one of the four rotator cuff muscles and is responsible for me being able to lift my arm.  

the bottom line on my shoulder:  i couldn't lift my arm in front of my more than about 20 degrees.  i couldn't lift my right arm out to my side more than 45 degrees, i couldn't extend my arm forward to straighten it out and i couldn't lift my right elbow up to my waist.   later on at dinner, everyone pointed out all the contusions that i either hadn't noticed or hadn't felt.  it looked like i had a second kneecap on my left leg and, just below my left elbow, it looked like i was hiding a golf ball.  that and all the road rash on my right forearm and peeled skin on my knees and elbows made for quite a sight.  i totally lucked out when my head it the ground as the helmet caught the entire impact along the right side of my forehead.  my helmet actually looked pretty good afterwards, with only the major scratches to show that anything happened.

after dinner, i sat in my room, downing advil and applying bags of ice to shoulders, knees and contusions.  as it was too late to call any of my medical contacts in the new york area until morning, i figured i'd sleep on it and see how things were in the morning to determine whether or not i'd continue to ride.

Day 9 Battle Mountain to Elko, Nevada 73 miles 2500 feet of climbing

battle mountain.  4:48 am

a very interesting day today.  it was cool this morning with fog hovering on the mountains.  probably a left over from the hellacious thunderstorms we had last night [talk about timing...we had just gotten back to the motel as the purple heavens opened up with a lightning show and downpour that lasted for hours].

sunrise out of battle mountain

as opposed to past rides, this morning many of us started out at the same time and rode together for the 27 miles until the first sag stop.  it was a great time to tell stories, relax and just enjoy the surroundings.  as a result of the construction, many of us wound up falling back into riding solo throughout the rest of the day.

road construction along I-80

it was a weird day on the road.  after the first rest stop, much of remainder of the day was riding in and out of construction all along I-80.  at times, it was actually a thrilling experience.  when the two-lane roads were down to one lane each way, we were allowed to ride directly on the highway along the closed lane.  and, at a bypass just past carlin canyon, the eastbound lane of I-80 was closed to traffic for fifteen miles.  so it was just us riding along the highway.  one of the guys took a video of me singing the eagles "life in the fast lane."  i'm trying to get it sent to me so i can share with you.

the humboldt river along carlin canyon 

this is only a third of the way up emigrant pass looking back down the valley floor

today's route map.  yes, that's emigrant pass in the middle of the ride

the big challenge of the day was a monster 10-mile climb up to emigrant pass.  but there was also the ride through carlin canyon along the humboldt river.  simply beautiful.

today's route was the main thoroughfare for settlers coming from the east.  one look from the top of emigrant pass and those travelers easily could have thought twice about proceeding west.  all they would have seen as far as the horizon would have been the desert.  supposedly upon seeing what lay ahead, many just turned back.

home for the night.  they even rolled out the welcome mat!

tomorrow, we ride our last day through nevada, ending at the border town of wendover.  it's a 108-mile ride with another long climb.  but the killer is that wendover is in the mountain time zone.  so i'm going to lose an hour of sleep.

Day 8 Winnemucca to Battle Mountain, Nevada 55 miles 1650 feet of climbing

the road goes on forever

okay, it's official...i'm brain dead.  i could have sworn that we only had two more days before a rest day.  turns out there's three more days.  a 70+ miler into elko, nevada before consecutive 100+ mile days, eventually getting into salt lake city.

it's such a swinging town that they named their only real underpass

i know my mind has been wandering out on the road these past few days.  i thought i would first notice some body part falling off or throbbing in unbearable pain.  but, instead, it's my mind that's starting to falter.  maybe it's the four days in a row of 100+ degrees.  maybe it's the riding.   maybe it's the monotony of I-80.   all i know is that i am getting a bit foggy now and then.  and forgetting that there's a third day before the rest stop is just icing on that cake.

these are normal rumble strips.  the shoulder is wide enough that we never have to worry about riding over them, and they are loud enough for those cars or trucks that accidentally cross over that white line.

occasionally, we catch an older section of I-80, probably from the days of the inception of the interstate system.  in those cases, these rumble strips run all across the shoulder.  it makes for a very bouncy, vibrating ride.  not fun.

today was a straight shot from winnemucca to battle mountain [still don't know why it's called that -- which battle, when and between whom?].  except for the three miles to get out of town this morning and the one getting into battle mountain, it was all on I-80.  and as the scenery didn't change, there's not a lot to tell.

i mentioned cattle grates.  we rode over more of them today.  here's what they look like up close.

my daily routine:

as it was a slow day, thought now might be a good time to catch everyone up on what my typical day is like.

the day starts with breakfast anytime between 5:00 am [like tomorrow morning] to 6:30 am, depending on the route, the weather and the degree of difficulty of the route.  obviously, the harder, the longer or the hotter, the earlier we'll all rise and grab breakfast.  i usually leave myself 45 minutes between waking up and getting to breakfast to shower, do 15 minutes of stretching and then prep for the day [refilling my water bottles, pumping up my tires, checking to make sure i've got whatever i'll need, applying sunscreen, and repacking my bags].

this is my typical room.  bike, clothes, a basic mess.  it's a throwback to my college days!

breakfast is usually either in the motel lobby or at a nearby chain [ie, denny's].  the day in lovelock, we lucked out with the cowpoke cafe.  nice home cookin'.  my typical meal, pretty much the same for most everyone else, consists of scrambled eggs, bacon, either pancakes or oatmeal, orange juice and tea [btw, i've been very surprised by the number of tea drinkers in nevada.  i just figured ranchers would be devout coffee drinkers but there they are, alongside us in the mornings, knocking back earl grey's and english breakfast teas.]  sounds like a lot of food, but when i'm on the bike at least four or five hours a day, i burn through that pretty quickly.

after breakfast, we load our luggage in one of the vans and take off.  not everyone leaves at the same time and, on the route, there are usually one four twosomes that ride together:  bud and ken, the fast duo; meaghan and emma, the couple from duluth [can't remember their names], and tom and tommy, the father and son duo.  everyone else leaves with the intent of riding solo.  if, as was the case yesterday, that we hook up for pace lines, that's more the exception than the rule.

there are sag [support and gear] or pit stops every 25-35 miles, depending on both the length of the ride as well as the practicality of the location for the stop.  at each stop, riders replenish their water bottles, get snacks and any last-minute information on changes to the day's route [such as last-minute road construction].  snacks usually include fruit [bananas, peaches, grapes and orange slices], peanut butter, a homemade brew of trail mix [dried fruits and nuts, sometimes with m&m's thrown in], some kind of salty chips [frito's, etc.], granola bars and gatorade.   if it's really hot, as it's been lately, the sag vans will periodically stop alongside the road, in between scheduled pit stops, to refill our water bottles.

upon completion of the day's ride, we check in to the designated motel.  we all bring our bikes into our rooms, collect our bags and get on with our day.  i usually do about ten minutes of stretching before hitting the shower.  once i'm done showering, i'll fill the tub and soak for another ten minutes.  then it's off to the ice machine to fill up the bucket in my room.  from there, i transfer the ice into a couple of plastic storage bags and proceed to ice down my knees, wrists and shoulder.  pop a couple of advil and i'm good to go.  afternoons are also the time when i'll sometimes do laundry.  in a pinch, we all do a sink-washing of our clothes.  if, however, the motel has a laundry room, all the better.

around 4:30 each afternoon is mechanic's hour.  i take my bike outside and clean off the crap that's accumulated on the bike during the day's ride.  it's usually just a simple wipe down of the frame, plus alcohol to clean the grease off the chainring, then lubricant to get ready for tomorrow's ride.  i'll check my brakes [something i don't always remember to do and, with consequences.  the first day in california that we were riding up I-80, i noticed how slow it was going.  much slower than i should have.  turned out, my front brake was rubbing against my wheel.  no wonder i was feeling sluggish!].  i'll also check my tires to ensure there's nothing stuck in there, including small shards of glass or wires from the roadside.  we all have tweezers and superglue and we'll be going over the tires with a fine toothed comb, pulling out crap and filling it in with the superglue.

around 5:30 every night, we gather in the motel lobby for "route rap."  we go over any issues from the day's ride and review tomorrow's route map.  any special instructions are given that rap.

from rap, we all head out to dinner.  it's usually something low-key.  tonight, it's mexican.  but it could also be an all-you-can-eat buffet place like golden corral or olive garden.  in truth, the hardest thing about the dinners are finding healthy things to eat.  there's a whole lotta fried foods.  we got lucky last night and went to a very good barbecue place in winnemucca.  really excellent ribs and pulled pork.

we're usually back to the motel before 7:30.  it's then that i download all the photos from my day's ride. lately, i've also been exchanging photos with other riders.  either they got a better shot of something on the road today or vice versa.  i then write my blog, add the photos, and hit the "publish" button.

after that, i'm usually exhausted and in bed between 9 and 10 at night.  i set the alarm, maybe do a quick crossword puzzle and then pass out.

the next day, i start it all over again.  rinse, lather, repeat.

Day 7 Lovelock to Winnemucca, Nevada 73 miles 1500 feet of climbing

there's an expression in cycling that says "the hills will make you stronger.  the wind will make you

meaner."  today was a mean day.  

every riding needs a hearty breakfast to start the day.  today, the cowpoke cafe was our local watering hole.

what was forecast to be "a light breeze out of the east" turned into something more sinister.  i'm not saying we were riding into gale force winds, but two things gave it away as to how strong the winds were during today's ride.  first, all the flags along the roadside were stiff and blowing towards us.  even more disturbing, when i started the day, all the metal road signs were swaying back and forth.  like i said, not hurricane strength by any imagination, but strong enough to get my attention.

hop-scotching across nevada.  not a lot of anything between nightly rest stops

today's ride was primarily either on I-80 or on the frontage roads paralleling the highway.  i was fortunate enough to hook up with gene and jane, the husband and wife team who are our ride leaders on this trip, and mark from seattle.   although we all left at different times this morning, i caught up with mark about six miles out from breakfast.  not sure when gene and jane joined us, maybe about the ten mile mark, but we immediately decided to stay together and battle the winds as a group.  we formed a pace line, initially on one of the frontage roads and continued to work together once we got on the highway.  had it not been for us all working together as a single unit, as individuals, we all would have arrived over an hour later to the hotel this afternoon.

gene took this video while we were in a pace line on I-80.  that's me in the front in the white bike jersey.  it was my turn to pull.

the only memorable event from today was the cattle crossing that took place directly in front of us.  five to ten feet in front of gene and me, so be specific.  this is "open range" country, so the cattle can graze pretty much wherever they like.  we even saw some cattle grazing in the backyard of someone's home.  the only thing preventing the cattle from getting on main roads are cattle guards -- metal grates across most intersections.  cars and bicycles [carefully, that is] can go over them.  cattle won't as their hooves fall through the grating.

me in my aerobars, coming in to the pit stop this morning

as the four of us were riding along the frontage road, we saw cattle grazing to our right.  as we approached, one, then another, then another with her calf, then the whole herd decided at that moment to cross the street.  and they took their time crossing over.  even the honking horn from an oncoming pick-up truck couldn't persuade the cattle to move any faster.  i don't recall how jane and mark got ahead of us, but gene and i found ourselves about fifty yards behind those two.  as we began to speed up to catch them, two cows, who seemed to have been lying in wait to ambush us from the gully to our right, darted out directly in front of us to join their mates on the other side of the road.  not your run-of-the-mill biking experience.  but one to remember.

tomorrow is an easy 55-mile day.  kind of a rest day before successive 100+ mile days to end this first leg of the cross country tour.

Day 6 Sparks to Lovelock, Nevada 93 miles 3250 feet of climbing

from everything we were told last night, i truly expected not to be taking pictures today.  we knew it was going to be long.  we knew we had to be careful as we'd be spending a great deal of time on interstate 80, and we knew it was going to be a record-breaking heat wave of a day.  so all i was concentrating on was being safe on the highway and hydrating like mad.  but as i began riding, it became clear i wanted you to see what i was seeing.

departing just at sunrise

the hair-raising begins

we rode most of the day on I-80.  it was hot as blazes, just as predicted.  although we left right at sunrise with cool temperatures in the 60's, by 11:30 in the morning, it was already 105 degrees.  at noontime, i looked again and it was 107 degrees.  after that, i just didn't bother to check anymore.  [by the way, at dinner tonight at 6:00, the temperature had dropped to 101 degrees.  guess i won't need that blanket tonight!

the truckee river, still flowing though from California

as the river ends, so does the vegetation

riding on route 80 was both scary as all get out and peaceful.  just not at the same time.  the sparks/reno metro area comes alive at six in the morning and so does the traffic on that major interstate.  the sun was just peeking over the tops of the mountains and, as we were heading due east, right in our eyes.  this collection of factors caused a number of trepidatious moments.  first, with the sun right in my eyes, i couldn't see debris on the shoulder.  then, when the sun rose just a bit, the shoulder was half in sunlight and half in shadows.  that meant riding in the narrow strip of sunlight to ensure not running over anything that could cause a punctured tire.

and the land losses it greenness, becoming more barren and brown

then there were the trucks.  the speed limit in the metro area was 70 miles per hour, but i doubt anyone was going that slowly.  the aerodynamics of an 18-wheeler passing a cyclist were explained to me later at one of the pit stops.  first, as the truck first comes up on your flank, the force of it cutting through the air pushes the rider towards the guardrail.  as the truck passes the rider, it's created a vacuum that pulls the rider back towards the right-hand lane.  if a series of trucks pass in quick succession, they all pull the bike with them, increasing the bike's speed.  so, all in all, it's kind of quick rocking motion that i went through.  after a while, i got used to it.  and, for the first twenty-five miles, i also noticed how fast i was going, with my average speed of over twenty miles per hour.  that didn't last.

i also said it was peaceful.  how could that be?  well, yeah, i did have to get over the freakishness of the truck traffic.  but once we got out of the metro area and the traffic calmed down, there was nothing but me and the highway.  by ten in the morning, i could go for miles before a passing truck or car drove by.    and miles before seeing another rider.  as the road would often be straight as an arrow for miles, i began to drift into a very mellow, tranquil state.  just the sounds of the passing vehicles now and then, and my own breathing and the sounds of my bike.  a very different calm from that of the ride through norton grade, and a helluva lot hotter!

this scene just went on for miles.  but it became a peaceful ride.  just no shade!

we rode through, basically, a bowl most of the day.  from all points around me, i could see mountains.  but where we were riding was, more or less, salt flats.  and, as you can see from the shots below, not a very auspicious place to be riding, at least from an historical standpoint.  at one point, four of us wound up meeting up with each other because, for over a fifty-mile stretch, there was only one traffic sign that hung over the highway.  that sign created a shadow.  and even though it was barely three feet wide and extending across the eight-foot  shoulder, we fit four of us within its cooling confines.  i swear the temperature under the sign must have been a good ten degrees cooler than a foot in either direction.

not a good place to traverse, by covered wagons or by bicycles

this is as barren as it gets.  and it just went on for mile after mile

of all the gin joints in all the world...

has someone ever asked where you're from and, when you tell them, they ask, oh, do you know such and such a person? the probabilities of actually knowing that person are minuscule.  it's not like we all live in such tiny places that it's ever likely we'll know that person in question.   however, the following story defies those odds.   it's the god's honest truth and told to the best of my recollection:

our second pit stop was at a rest area exit off of I-80.  no services, no town, no gas, no food, just a couple of picnic tables and bathrooms.  no reason to stop unless mother nature is calling or you're a nut bar who's riding across country on a bicycle and this just happens to be your pit stop.

as i headed down the exit ramp to the rest area, a old panel van, painted with bright pictures and looking like something out of the woodstock era, was also exiting the highway and turning alongside me to enter the rest area.  other than the paint job, i didn't take much notice.  i pulled my bike under a shaded picnic table and did my usual routine of taking my gloves and helmet off, signing in [so they can keep track of everyone's progress during the day's ride] and grabbing some fresh water, gatorade and granola bars or fruit or whatever i needed.  there were already about six riders plus the crew at the pit stop, all doing the same things as i was about to do.

as i was filling up my water bottles from our van, a charming young woman with a strong british accent came over to the support van.  she introduced herself and, bouncing with delight as she spoke, wanted to say how impressed she and her friends in the van were as they passed a bunch of us cycling down the highway.  she inquired as to where we were going and where we'd come from.  i asked where she was from.  she proceeded to tell me that she and her bandmates, yes, they were a traveling acoustic act, started out in miami, headed all the way to san diego and were now heading back east, with some gigs in the midwest before heading to new york and boston.

knowing that one of our riders, the young woman from england who had taken a gap year to ride across the states, was only minutes behind me, i actually was asking her where in england she was from.  since she was impressed with all of us riding this day, maybe , i thought, she'd be impressed with a fellow brit doing this as well.  she told me she was from surrey, england.  funny, i replied, that's where one of our riders is from.  a young woman who's taken a year off to do this ride, i added.  what's her name, the young english woman asked.  emma something, i replied.  can't remember her last name.  at that point, the young english woman froze.  emma mason?  yeah, that's her last name, i answered.

at that point, leticia [as i would later find out her name], began to cry.  oh my god, she exclaimed.  emma is my sister's best friend.  my sister just texted me yesterday to say that emma was doing this ride and, maybe, you'd pass her while you and the band are driving across country.  leticia never really expected that to happen, but it was a nice thought.  no more than five minutes after i told her about emma, sure enough, there on the ridge above the rest area, rode emma, coming down the exit ramp.

the scene that ensued was something for the ages.  emma pulls into the rest area, totally unaware of what's about to happen.  leticia comes running towards emma who doesn't at first get the context of the moment.  then, the light bulb goes off.  emma recognizes leticia and the two of them, with the dual choruses of riders and band members gathering around to witness this most unexpected reunion, break into screams and tears of joy.

during this entire scene, no one remembered that it was blazing hot.  no rider remembered how sore they were.  and no one could keep from grinning or tearing up from such a joyous experience.

as it turns out, lettuce and the whatever his name is [1. yes, that's her stage name and, 2.  i'm going to get the formal name of the rest of the band shortly] will be playing in new york city in a couple of weeks, possibly the weekend i return to new york.  halle, if you're listening...you and i are going to see these guys play.  after this afternoon, it's only fitting.

Day 5 Truckee, California to Sparks, Nevada 67 miles 4750 feet of climbing

today was a ride in four parts:  through the tahoe forest along the truckee river; around lake tahoe; climbing mt. rose; and riding through the high desert of nevada.

should have worn something warmer.  but the views along the road were grand.

i'll let the pictures let much of the story today.  i should note that when we left truckee, it was a brisk 48 degrees.  i could see my breath.  and i definitely needed fingertips on my bike gloves this morning.

 the truckee river basin at break of day.  the river runs right past both alpine meadows and squaw valley ski resorts

this alpine lake was too good a picture for me to just ride past

the second leg of today's ride was around lake tahoe.  the truckee river feeds into the lake and, early in the morning, the views were spectacular of both the lake and the surrounding mountains.  half way around the lake, we said goodbye to california and entered nevada.

from the water's edge just as we turned off the truckee river bike path

from the northwestern side of the lake, still in california

i figured it was either this shot, or the casinos across the street as we entered nevada

from the observation point above the lake

the third part of the ride started when we left the lakefront to climb up mt. rose.  while the ride yesterday up norton grade was steeper in parts, it was not even four miles of climbing.  today, we "enjoyed" an 8.2-mile, non-stop, take-no-prisoners climb to the summit at nearly 9000 feet [10,776 if you are hiking].  just to put this climb into perspective, during the morning through the forest, i was riding at about a 15-to 17-mile per hour pace, depending on the road conditions.  climbing up the mt. rose road, i was in my small ring [i was told by andy kaplan, our resident bike mechanic and someone far more knowledgeable about this stuff than i, that as i'm riding what's called a "compact cassette" -- two rings, not three as found on touring bikes, i don't actually HAVE a granny gear.  it's just called the small ring.] the entire way up the mountain and travelling at about 4 to 4.5 miles per hour.  that's seriously slow.  a fast walker on a flat surface can walk that fast.  but that's how steep the climb was.  i was told it averaged anywhere between a 7% to a 9% grade.  the incline wasn't the issue.  it was the nearly 8 miles of the 8.2 mile climb that was the killer.  the other two percent, by the way, were a beautiful alpine meadow [see below].

did i mention it was steep?  i hope this photo does justice to the incline.

i climbed above the snow line!!

hikers could go nearly another 2000 feet to the actual summit

the final section of the ride was both the 15-mile descent into reno as well as the ride through nevada.  the descent was down a series of hairpin turns that lasted nearly ten miles.  that's the longest and steepest downhill i've ever done.  and, while the climb was tough, at least we had very wide shoulders to as not to challenge cars and trucks.  on the way down, we used the actual road.  we were instructed to find our pace line and hold it even with cars behind us.  with no real shoulder to speak of, that was the safest approach.  when i could, i'd pull off to let cars and trucks go by.  but i also got lucky as those cars behind me, even with me going about 35 miles per hour at some points, were very patient.  my speed was another issue.  i like climbing.  i don't like descending.  yes, it's probably fear.  but hey, that's how i'm built.  i'm not crazy about blasting down a road at over 40 miles per hour.  just too many variables to take in.  today, one of the variables was the winds on the far side of mt. rose.  at times, with heavy cross winds, i even dialed it back to only 25 miles per hour until i either had a wider shoulder or the winds died down.

that's mt rose from the reno side.  cold at the top, numb down the descent, hot at the bottom

the only reason i separated the descent and the reno leg of the trip, apart from the speed of getting down in a matter of minutes what it took hours to get up, was the heat.  i said i started the day in truckee at 48 degrees.  my bike computer said the temperature in reno and sparks was 102 degrees.  and not a lot of shade to hide beneath.

tomorrow will be another scorcher.  temps at our destination projected to be over 100 degrees.  no real climbing tomorrow, just 92 miles of heat.  hence we'll be getting out before the sun's up.

Day 4 Auburn to Truckee, Ca 74 miles 9200 feet of climbing

awesome view from donner summit; challenging switchbacks through boulders and ponderosa pines; a descent for five miles; donner lake in the foreground and the mountains surrounding lake tahoe in the distance [yes, snow-capped]

while this was the most challenging ride day i've ever been on, it was possibly the most beautiful as well.  we were warned that today would be the most climbing we'd do in a single day on the entire ride across the states.  and the ride leaders were true to their words.  the day was basically broken down into two parts:  the first part being the 71 miles of ascents; the second being the final 11 miles of descent down into truckee.

the shot i wish i took was from the parking lot this morning at 5:00 am when we were loading our bags and getting ready to grab breakfast and ride out.  the sky was that kind of purple just before it starts to get lighter.  the bright crescent moon hung over the motel and, as it was much colder than we imagined it would be, we all grabbed an extra layer of clothing from our bags before loading them in the vans.  owing to the length and degree of today's climbs, as well as the forecasted 98 degree temperatures, we hit the road at exactly 5:39...sunrise in auburn, california.

i just climbed this!

from my first turn out of the motel parking lot, it was all uphill.  the first hour of the route involved no less than four climbs that warranted shifting into my granny gear.  i took the shot on the left just after getting to the top of that hill.  i stopped, turned around and took the shot as i wasn't about to stop mid-climb while going up at that percent grade.

we all knew the day would be long and the climbs frequent.  even though the summit at donner pass is only about 7200 feet, if we totaled all the ups and downs of our day, the total vertical distance covered was approximately 9200 feet.  more than i've ever climbed.  ever!

the view of tahoe forest at one of the few turnouts on the narrow, winding road up the hill

while today was the most challenging ride i've even done, two parts of it were the most beautiful.  the picture at the top from donner pass was breathtaking [as was the swift, steep descent down to the lake!].
the picture just above was during the climb up to tahoe forest.  like the first climbs of the day as well as the final attack on donner summit, many of these roads were just a steady, mile after mile, climb with grades ranging from 8% up two 14% in two sections.

one particular example of that was the middle section of today's ride. all during the morning, we were toying with interstate 80.  we'd ride around it, over it, under it and alongside it.  finally, from mile 32 until mile 49, we rode on it.  that's steve, my fellow mississippi veteran, riding past the "5000 ft elevation" sign on the eastbound shoulder of interstate 80.  scary as that all might sound, the shoulders are extremely wide.  all we had to contend with was the noise of the oncoming traffic and all the detritus on the roadside.  i've been told that much of our ride through nevada will be along interstate 80.  "there's only three roads that go across nevada and two of them are crap."  hence, we'll take the interstate.

but the best part of the day was the six miles descending, then climbing back up a road called norton grade.  i'm not even sure i can tell you the name of the town it's in.  there's a small lake on the bottom.  i was riding through a very rural section when i turned down onto norton grade road.  as the route warned, it was a steep, very curvy descent.  that went on for about a mile and a half.  and, while i'm not prone to flying downhill at speeds upwards of forty or fifty miles per hour, the chicanes i rode through going down norton grade were spectacular.  once i reached the bottom of the lake, the real fun began.  a quick turn to my right and i started up a three-mile climb, either in my granny gear or the next best thing.  normally, this would be exhausting and you could expect a lot of complaints on my part.  not today.  today, all there was on the road was me and the bike.  an occasional car would show up but, otherwise it was just me doing a slow, steady pacing as i rode through tall stands of pine forests.  zigging and zagging back and forth as the road ahead of me twisted and turned up the ascent, i was alone with my thoughts and, at the same time, grabbing a quick glimpse through the trees of the marvelous views the higher i climbed.  yeah, it was a hummer of a climb, but i almost wished it didn't end.  i thought it was just my quirky nature that appreciated that climb, but when i joined a bunch of our other riders at the first pit stop, they all agreed that norton grade road made their day.  the best ride ever.

what does that say when the elevation is greater than the population?  

rural california has its own uniqueness

and just think...three days ago, my ankles [and the back tire of my bike] were below sea level!!

there's lots more to write but, frankly, i'm spent.  

tomorrow is another long climb and another very hot day.  i'm going to try and catch up on sleep.