Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thanks For Your Contributions
Now that my cross-country ride is over, I wish to acknowledge, as a group, all who have made financial contributions in my name, to any/all of the 4 groups that sponsored me. They are:
- The Interact Club, at The Bergen Academies, a Hackensack, NJ high school club that works to the benefit of the hungry and homeless in Bergen County, and also provides airfare for children of the third world coming to the US for medical treatment. This is a remarkable endeavor for such young people.
- The Fire Department, The Ambulance Corps, and The Rescue Squad of my hometown of Upper Saddle River, NJ, volunteers all!
- The Ethical Culture Society of Bergen County, a humanist religious community (of which I am the current president).
- Hobart College, Class of '58 (to augment the presentation of a class gift on the occasion of our 50th reunion in June, '08).
For all who chose to hold their gift-giving until I concluded the trip, I traveled 3,467 miles in all, spread over 40 days on the bike.
What's next?
Most immediately, an essay (or two) on my experiences, once I have a little more time to reflect on everything, plus a specifically tailored set of ramblings on what I consider worth mentioning for anyone thinking about a similar ride. I am also compiling a list of the names of those who extended helping hands along the way. I have a lot to "pay forward."
In another vein, my wife insists that I regain a lot of the weight that disappeared en route, so a weight training routine is in the offing.
A new adventure? We shall see. I have nothing in mind at this time, but you never know.
Bob
PS: Does anyone want to buy a slightly used bicycle trailer, and some brand new, unused camping gear?
- The Interact Club, at The Bergen Academies, a Hackensack, NJ high school club that works to the benefit of the hungry and homeless in Bergen County, and also provides airfare for children of the third world coming to the US for medical treatment. This is a remarkable endeavor for such young people.
- The Fire Department, The Ambulance Corps, and The Rescue Squad of my hometown of Upper Saddle River, NJ, volunteers all!
- The Ethical Culture Society of Bergen County, a humanist religious community (of which I am the current president).
- Hobart College, Class of '58 (to augment the presentation of a class gift on the occasion of our 50th reunion in June, '08).
For all who chose to hold their gift-giving until I concluded the trip, I traveled 3,467 miles in all, spread over 40 days on the bike.
What's next?
Most immediately, an essay (or two) on my experiences, once I have a little more time to reflect on everything, plus a specifically tailored set of ramblings on what I consider worth mentioning for anyone thinking about a similar ride. I am also compiling a list of the names of those who extended helping hands along the way. I have a lot to "pay forward."
In another vein, my wife insists that I regain a lot of the weight that disappeared en route, so a weight training routine is in the offing.
A new adventure? We shall see. I have nothing in mind at this time, but you never know.
Bob
PS: Does anyone want to buy a slightly used bicycle trailer, and some brand new, unused camping gear?
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Traveled 3,467 miles
Not to be misleading, a few chunks of that were not on the bicycle. I had a 60-mile four-hour ferry ride across Lake Michigan to Wisconsin.
I also had a few rides: when I ran into a lightning/thunderstorm, and it was already dark and late, a fully loaded moving van stopped and managed to get all my gear in the 2-level cabin behind the driver. Remarkable, because his wife and one grown daughter were already ensconced in the space, as were some of the customer's possessions that did not fit into the van. It was carrying 28,000 pounds!
I was cold and tired and I dozed off. He was going to unload in Albuquerque and go on to LA, so he said he'd take me all the way, if I wanted. I got out in Albuquerque about 10pm. It is amazing how easily a truck that big moves at 75 mph, and how comfortable it was. I felt guilty about the extended ride, and had I not dozed off, I would have gotten off sooner, but: the thunder, lightning and heavy rain continued much of the way to Albuquerque and was supposed to continue through the next day as well.
The last hitch I made was in the desert. I was on Interstate 40 and heading from Needles, CA to Ludlow, 83 miles away, where there was supposed to be a motel available. I got about 40 miles, after battling strong headwinds, and many hills. I never knew I would be going up and down so much. I actually gained about 2,700 feet in elevation. That's why they call it "high desert."
At about that 40-mile point, around 2:15 in the afternoon, there was a sign saying bikes must exit. Usually bikes are not allowed when there is an alternate route. But when I got to the end of the off-ramp, there was only a sign pointing me to Old Route 66 and Amboy, 46 miles away, as opposed to the truck stop less than 2 miles further on the Interstate. I was tired and did not have enough water to go another 46 miles where there might, or might not be services available.
By the way, the state highway department had closed the only rest area for almost 200 miles (for repairs that would not be complete before December). It was unconscionable to do that in the desert! Tell Arnold I will NOT be back.
Fortunately, I never saw one highway patroller in all of California until within LA County, and I was illegal on more occasions as well.
I got back on I40, illegal now, and was delighted to down a cold beer in what seemed like one swallow at the truck stop. I was beat. I can handle the temperature, meaning 112 was not the issue. I did not sweat much (8% humidity), I drank often (but water hotter than my body temperature is not pleasant), and did not feel uncomfortable, but: it saps your energy fuel tank quickly and I needed the rest. After downing a hot dog, then a snow cone, I fell asleep in a chair, for a while, at least. Many tour buses came through, always with Korean passengers. I thought I would wait for my batteries to recharge and for a later-in-the-day restart when it might be cooling a little. Then the owner/manager and his wife told me the signs were wrong and Ludlow was another 58 miles, so I set out at 4:30.
I got maybe 10 miles further and realized that I was not going at a fast enough pace, and the hills were killing me, so macho went by the wayside and I used my head instead and hitched. Fortunately, I found an overpass to stand under, which had to be 15 degrees cooler. It was 98 in the shade at the truck stop.
All the pickup trucks roared past me, but a lone man in a PT Cruiser stopped and my gear fit in, once I removed the front wheel. He is a courier making one or two round-trips a week to collect water samples from the Colorado River at Needles and bring them to LA for testing. Name: Marion Bowles. Although he wasn't using air conditioning, it was way better than being "out there." After just under 50 miles, we saw no motels at Ludlow, so continued to Barstow, another 50 miles (and only 38 minutes at highway speeds). We stopped for gas at Barstow and I found a Motel 6 in the yellow pages, a few miles down Main Street. Marion wanted to eat dinner first, at a Flying J truck stop that has an all-you-can-eat buffet for $10.95, so there we went. I paid for dinner, but Marion did not want to go back the few miles, saying there was another Motel 6 ahead, near Victorville, as if I knew where that was. It was 20 miles further!! I felt hoodwinked because he still kept pushing me to go all the way to LA.
Marion, you were extremely nice to pick me up, but you did not do me a favor by forcing me 2o miles downroad.
From Barstow, it was 14 miles to the Cajon Pass, a 12-mile downhill ride, from an elevation of around 4,900 feet. It took me 2 hours to go just under 13 miles due to the 20+mph headwinds. At one point I could barely keep the bike balanced, on level ground, and fighting to hold 5.3 mph!! The shoulder was the white stripe and the road surface resembled a jigsaw puzzle or the parched chunks of land you see in drought country. Rough and uncomfortable.
The frontage road I was on ended abruptly, leaving I40 the only option. I was not going to get cheated, after over 3,000 miles, from having the greatest downhill ride of the country, so onto I40 I went. The 1st 4 miles were a 6% grade, and I started to fly, but the expansion joints were so bumped up that I could not go more than around 18mph and maintain control, not to mention tolerate the rough ride. And neither could the tires. I had a flat on the rear after 2 miles. I had to take off all the gear. Just maintaining my own balance, standing on a steep grade, bent over the wheel in open sun was a challenge. Then too, I was using a new super thick super burr-resisting tube, which I had great difficulty in stuffing into the tire and getting the tire on the rim. The tube was so thick and heavy that the box it comes in is the size of a full carton of cigarettes!
It took maybe 45 minutes to complete the chore. I went another 2 miles and took a break at a truck stop, then set out again. The grade was maybe 4% now, and the pavement better, but still not really good. I held my speed back to 27 or 28 and an occasional 30, whereas with a good surface I would have been close to 40, if I dared. It is not nice to have a flat at speed when the tire and bike go squiggly. You worry about being able to stop in time before destroying the rim, or worse: crashing at speed. I felt a little cheated out of a great ride, but then, it was still pretty damned good to go for 8 miles without pedaling.
I15 was heading southwest, so I continued to I210, which runs east-west, also illegal. It took over 4.5 miles to get to the first exit, when I headed south looking for the parallel local road I had seen on the map, found it, called daughter Leila, and set the rendezvous point. This was San Bernadino County. 14 miles later, at 8:05, I sat and waited for Leila to arrive shortly thereafter.
Then we stuffed the bike in her car and went on to her place.
I used the waiting time to call all the members of my family.
Today, the first day after, feels odd. I feel no euphoria, and also never doubted I would finish the trip. It just feels a little anticlimactic. But it did get me a bargain today.
I went to buy a pair of jeans and found a store selling Bullhead jeans @ 2 for $55. Although a small shop, they had a great size selection and I found a good-fitting pair (for now, until I gain back the weight). While I was in the try-on room, my friend Gene told the salesgirl I had just arrived the night before from NJ by bicycle. She immediately offered a $25 coupon they give to sports people, usable immediately. But it was not off the single $39.95 pair. I had to buy 2 pair. So the 2 pair for $55 minus the coupon, came to $30, whereas the single pair came to $39.95!!!
Duh!
So I asked her how much money SHE would give ME if I bought 4 pair.
I wore them home, but first I had to contort my leg onto the counter to get the magnetic alarm tag off. It was easier than mounting the bike over my panniers.
I will need more time to gain perspective and make pithy remarks about the trip. I will also be posting some fuller and better-considered advice to the Marine amputee who is going x-country next year with 4 other wounded marines. Ditto re: the man from Costa Mesa (with the very handsome young son) who thinks they might go x-country too (sorry, but the boy must have gotten his good looks from his mother).
Leila took some pics of me when I arrived. Now to get them via e-mail and choose one to post.
Bob
I also had a few rides: when I ran into a lightning/thunderstorm, and it was already dark and late, a fully loaded moving van stopped and managed to get all my gear in the 2-level cabin behind the driver. Remarkable, because his wife and one grown daughter were already ensconced in the space, as were some of the customer's possessions that did not fit into the van. It was carrying 28,000 pounds!
I was cold and tired and I dozed off. He was going to unload in Albuquerque and go on to LA, so he said he'd take me all the way, if I wanted. I got out in Albuquerque about 10pm. It is amazing how easily a truck that big moves at 75 mph, and how comfortable it was. I felt guilty about the extended ride, and had I not dozed off, I would have gotten off sooner, but: the thunder, lightning and heavy rain continued much of the way to Albuquerque and was supposed to continue through the next day as well.
The last hitch I made was in the desert. I was on Interstate 40 and heading from Needles, CA to Ludlow, 83 miles away, where there was supposed to be a motel available. I got about 40 miles, after battling strong headwinds, and many hills. I never knew I would be going up and down so much. I actually gained about 2,700 feet in elevation. That's why they call it "high desert."
At about that 40-mile point, around 2:15 in the afternoon, there was a sign saying bikes must exit. Usually bikes are not allowed when there is an alternate route. But when I got to the end of the off-ramp, there was only a sign pointing me to Old Route 66 and Amboy, 46 miles away, as opposed to the truck stop less than 2 miles further on the Interstate. I was tired and did not have enough water to go another 46 miles where there might, or might not be services available.
By the way, the state highway department had closed the only rest area for almost 200 miles (for repairs that would not be complete before December). It was unconscionable to do that in the desert! Tell Arnold I will NOT be back.
Fortunately, I never saw one highway patroller in all of California until within LA County, and I was illegal on more occasions as well.
I got back on I40, illegal now, and was delighted to down a cold beer in what seemed like one swallow at the truck stop. I was beat. I can handle the temperature, meaning 112 was not the issue. I did not sweat much (8% humidity), I drank often (but water hotter than my body temperature is not pleasant), and did not feel uncomfortable, but: it saps your energy fuel tank quickly and I needed the rest. After downing a hot dog, then a snow cone, I fell asleep in a chair, for a while, at least. Many tour buses came through, always with Korean passengers. I thought I would wait for my batteries to recharge and for a later-in-the-day restart when it might be cooling a little. Then the owner/manager and his wife told me the signs were wrong and Ludlow was another 58 miles, so I set out at 4:30.
I got maybe 10 miles further and realized that I was not going at a fast enough pace, and the hills were killing me, so macho went by the wayside and I used my head instead and hitched. Fortunately, I found an overpass to stand under, which had to be 15 degrees cooler. It was 98 in the shade at the truck stop.
All the pickup trucks roared past me, but a lone man in a PT Cruiser stopped and my gear fit in, once I removed the front wheel. He is a courier making one or two round-trips a week to collect water samples from the Colorado River at Needles and bring them to LA for testing. Name: Marion Bowles. Although he wasn't using air conditioning, it was way better than being "out there." After just under 50 miles, we saw no motels at Ludlow, so continued to Barstow, another 50 miles (and only 38 minutes at highway speeds). We stopped for gas at Barstow and I found a Motel 6 in the yellow pages, a few miles down Main Street. Marion wanted to eat dinner first, at a Flying J truck stop that has an all-you-can-eat buffet for $10.95, so there we went. I paid for dinner, but Marion did not want to go back the few miles, saying there was another Motel 6 ahead, near Victorville, as if I knew where that was. It was 20 miles further!! I felt hoodwinked because he still kept pushing me to go all the way to LA.
Marion, you were extremely nice to pick me up, but you did not do me a favor by forcing me 2o miles downroad.
From Barstow, it was 14 miles to the Cajon Pass, a 12-mile downhill ride, from an elevation of around 4,900 feet. It took me 2 hours to go just under 13 miles due to the 20+mph headwinds. At one point I could barely keep the bike balanced, on level ground, and fighting to hold 5.3 mph!! The shoulder was the white stripe and the road surface resembled a jigsaw puzzle or the parched chunks of land you see in drought country. Rough and uncomfortable.
The frontage road I was on ended abruptly, leaving I40 the only option. I was not going to get cheated, after over 3,000 miles, from having the greatest downhill ride of the country, so onto I40 I went. The 1st 4 miles were a 6% grade, and I started to fly, but the expansion joints were so bumped up that I could not go more than around 18mph and maintain control, not to mention tolerate the rough ride. And neither could the tires. I had a flat on the rear after 2 miles. I had to take off all the gear. Just maintaining my own balance, standing on a steep grade, bent over the wheel in open sun was a challenge. Then too, I was using a new super thick super burr-resisting tube, which I had great difficulty in stuffing into the tire and getting the tire on the rim. The tube was so thick and heavy that the box it comes in is the size of a full carton of cigarettes!
It took maybe 45 minutes to complete the chore. I went another 2 miles and took a break at a truck stop, then set out again. The grade was maybe 4% now, and the pavement better, but still not really good. I held my speed back to 27 or 28 and an occasional 30, whereas with a good surface I would have been close to 40, if I dared. It is not nice to have a flat at speed when the tire and bike go squiggly. You worry about being able to stop in time before destroying the rim, or worse: crashing at speed. I felt a little cheated out of a great ride, but then, it was still pretty damned good to go for 8 miles without pedaling.
I15 was heading southwest, so I continued to I210, which runs east-west, also illegal. It took over 4.5 miles to get to the first exit, when I headed south looking for the parallel local road I had seen on the map, found it, called daughter Leila, and set the rendezvous point. This was San Bernadino County. 14 miles later, at 8:05, I sat and waited for Leila to arrive shortly thereafter.
Then we stuffed the bike in her car and went on to her place.
I used the waiting time to call all the members of my family.
Today, the first day after, feels odd. I feel no euphoria, and also never doubted I would finish the trip. It just feels a little anticlimactic. But it did get me a bargain today.
I went to buy a pair of jeans and found a store selling Bullhead jeans @ 2 for $55. Although a small shop, they had a great size selection and I found a good-fitting pair (for now, until I gain back the weight). While I was in the try-on room, my friend Gene told the salesgirl I had just arrived the night before from NJ by bicycle. She immediately offered a $25 coupon they give to sports people, usable immediately. But it was not off the single $39.95 pair. I had to buy 2 pair. So the 2 pair for $55 minus the coupon, came to $30, whereas the single pair came to $39.95!!!
Duh!
So I asked her how much money SHE would give ME if I bought 4 pair.
I wore them home, but first I had to contort my leg onto the counter to get the magnetic alarm tag off. It was easier than mounting the bike over my panniers.
I will need more time to gain perspective and make pithy remarks about the trip. I will also be posting some fuller and better-considered advice to the Marine amputee who is going x-country next year with 4 other wounded marines. Ditto re: the man from Costa Mesa (with the very handsome young son) who thinks they might go x-country too (sorry, but the boy must have gotten his good looks from his mother).
Leila took some pics of me when I arrived. Now to get them via e-mail and choose one to post.
Bob
Monday, August 13, 2007
California, Here I Came
I met daughter, Leila, at an agreed rendezvous point that I got to at 8:05 pm, just inside the Los Angeles County border.
We hit the supermarket and are now enjoying a beer and Doritos at her home.
More tomorrow ... B
We hit the supermarket and are now enjoying a beer and Doritos at her home.
More tomorrow ... B
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Bob is in Needles, California
Gregg here: Bob made it from Kingman, Arizona to Needles, California on Friday night. He crossed over the Colorado River, which is the border, and when he stopped into a marina to have a couple of beers, a guy there said that he saw Bob on television and that he recognized him because the logo on his shirt-back. While the temperature today was 112 degrees, Bob said that it wasn't a problem although he did say that he didn't like drinking water that was hotter than his body! Fortunately, for this particular portion of the ride, the places to get replenishment were not that far apart.
When he left the restaurant on Friday morning in Kingman, a Polish couple stopped Bob outside. They said that they were driving from Toronto to Vancouver (not clear from Bob's message why they were in Arizona), and the husband took a photo of Bob with his wife.
At the marina, there were those impressive cigarette boats, women, and other fancy stuff. He had conversations with lots of people there.
Bob believes that he is 285 miles from Los Angeles, but he's not sure if that's from downtown proper. The border of Los Angeles county is about 70 miles out. So far, he seems to be okay with continuing to ride on Interstate 40; no signs seems to indicate that it's prohibited. I-40 ends in Barstow, California but he can't make that in one day. He'll likely make it to Ludlow, California on Saturday. Barstow may be too close to call it a day the next day. He'll call a tourist information bureau and find out what his options are.
Overall, he sounds wonderfully upbeat and excited about the impending end of this adventure. By my estimation, he'll be done on Monday or Tuesday.
Gregg
When he left the restaurant on Friday morning in Kingman, a Polish couple stopped Bob outside. They said that they were driving from Toronto to Vancouver (not clear from Bob's message why they were in Arizona), and the husband took a photo of Bob with his wife.
At the marina, there were those impressive cigarette boats, women, and other fancy stuff. He had conversations with lots of people there.
Bob believes that he is 285 miles from Los Angeles, but he's not sure if that's from downtown proper. The border of Los Angeles county is about 70 miles out. So far, he seems to be okay with continuing to ride on Interstate 40; no signs seems to indicate that it's prohibited. I-40 ends in Barstow, California but he can't make that in one day. He'll likely make it to Ludlow, California on Saturday. Barstow may be too close to call it a day the next day. He'll call a tourist information bureau and find out what his options are.
Overall, he sounds wonderfully upbeat and excited about the impending end of this adventure. By my estimation, he'll be done on Monday or Tuesday.
Gregg
Friday, August 10, 2007
50 miles from California
Gregg here: Finally heard from Bob last night. He stayed in the town of Seligman, Arizona on Wednesday night and made it about 80 miles to Kingman, Arizona which is 50 or 60 miles from the California border. He was initially told by some locals that the route would be somewhat downill and fairly easy, but it was hardly the case. In fact, Bob commented that the hills were the most that he had seen in the last 4 or 5 days combined! Azar and her aunt and uncle did a little research and found that Seligman is at 3,300 feet of elevation whereas Kingman is at 5,000.
When Bob was about 20 miles from Kingman, he came across a road surface that was the worst of the paved surfaces he'd seen in 3,000 miles. He described it as being waffle-like, with deep grooves and many of them. There was a constant vibration and even going downhill, he couldn't go faster than 7 miles per hour. Given how unbearable it was, he decided to hitch a ride and a nice guy in a utility truck gave him a lift for the last 20 miles. About 10 miles later, the shoulders changed back to something that appeared rideable, and though Bob didn't want to cheat on his mileage, he wasn't sure if the improved conditions would last and instead opted to just get to Kingman and call it a day. Once there, he stopped by a place to get a root beer float and yet again, his money was refused.
The weather was reported to be clear yet hot, though Bob's indicated that the heat has not affected him much. He estimates that he can continue to cover about 80 or so miles each day. He also estimates that he's about 300 miles or less to Los Angeles. Lastly, he indicated that he believes that he will have fulfilled his goals if he simply gets to the border of L.A. since it is so large; thereafter, he might see if he can arrange for one of Leila's friends to pick him up. I'm taking Azar to the airport on Tuesday morning, and she indicated that she wanted to have her camera ready to see Bob roll in. We're all guessing on when and where that might be, so I imagine that Bob, Azar, Leila, and Reuters will all have to coordinate their schedules. More on that as it develops.
Gregg
When Bob was about 20 miles from Kingman, he came across a road surface that was the worst of the paved surfaces he'd seen in 3,000 miles. He described it as being waffle-like, with deep grooves and many of them. There was a constant vibration and even going downhill, he couldn't go faster than 7 miles per hour. Given how unbearable it was, he decided to hitch a ride and a nice guy in a utility truck gave him a lift for the last 20 miles. About 10 miles later, the shoulders changed back to something that appeared rideable, and though Bob didn't want to cheat on his mileage, he wasn't sure if the improved conditions would last and instead opted to just get to Kingman and call it a day. Once there, he stopped by a place to get a root beer float and yet again, his money was refused.
The weather was reported to be clear yet hot, though Bob's indicated that the heat has not affected him much. He estimates that he can continue to cover about 80 or so miles each day. He also estimates that he's about 300 miles or less to Los Angeles. Lastly, he indicated that he believes that he will have fulfilled his goals if he simply gets to the border of L.A. since it is so large; thereafter, he might see if he can arrange for one of Leila's friends to pick him up. I'm taking Azar to the airport on Tuesday morning, and she indicated that she wanted to have her camera ready to see Bob roll in. We're all guessing on when and where that might be, so I imagine that Bob, Azar, Leila, and Reuters will all have to coordinate their schedules. More on that as it develops.
Gregg
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Where's Bob?
Gregg here: I've been asked about Bob's whereabouts by several folks. The answer is... your guess is as good as mine. Okay, maybe my guess might be slightly more accurate given my intimate knowledge of his experiences thus far, and given my estimations of the distance left to travel, but the reality is that Bob hasn't called in a couple of days. One can only assume, optimistically of course, that all is well and that his efforts are so monstrous and productive leaving him simply too exhausted to call in. He's also in the deserts of the southwest, so maybe cell coverage also isn't great.
In any event, lest I be accused or otherwise thought of as shirking my blog responsibilities, I thought I'd make this entry. I'll hopefully hear from him today or tonight and post again immediately thereafter.
Gregg
In any event, lest I be accused or otherwise thought of as shirking my blog responsibilities, I thought I'd make this entry. I'll hopefully hear from him today or tonight and post again immediately thereafter.
Gregg
Monday, August 6, 2007
In Winslow, Arizona
Gregg here: Bob's in Winslow, Arizona tonight, Monday night. He did 83 miles today. He indicated that he had another 2 to 3 hours of riding in him, but with the next motel about 60 miles away, he had no choice but to stop for the night. Apparently, his rear wheel has a significant wobble to it (in technical terms, we say it's "out of true"), so he'll get to a bike shop first thing tomorrow morning. He'll also stock up on tubes given what has been a tough go of things thus far.
After he departs tomorrow, he'll make it to Flagstaff, Arizona. The route features about 1,600 feet of rising terrain between Winslow and Flagstaff. Weather permitting and flat tires notwithstanding, he'll also try for Williams, Arizona which is another 35 miles west from Flagstaff. It's unlikely he'll get a cheap motel room since it's a popular point of origin for folks who visit the southern rim of the Grand Canyon, but c'est la vie. For tonight, he's in a Motel 6 and got the senior discount; naturally, he's happy about that. He also seems to love Denny's restaurants as he's eaten at them for three days in a row. The portions are generous and by his account, the meals actually look just like the photos in the menu!
The following was quoted from Bob for specific inclusion here:
Flash floods in Death Valley
Based on my run of luck, such as three flats within 7 miles on one day, and three flats within 2 days on another occasion, increasing headwinds in the evening coupled with thunderstorms, I predict unprecedented flash floods in Death Valley when I get there.
I entered Colorado at an elevation of over 4,200 feet, topped out at 7,000 feet and have been riding most of the time at around 6,200 feet above sea level. I find no effect on my pace or stamina but I am slow when the altitude is increasing.
After he departs tomorrow, he'll make it to Flagstaff, Arizona. The route features about 1,600 feet of rising terrain between Winslow and Flagstaff. Weather permitting and flat tires notwithstanding, he'll also try for Williams, Arizona which is another 35 miles west from Flagstaff. It's unlikely he'll get a cheap motel room since it's a popular point of origin for folks who visit the southern rim of the Grand Canyon, but c'est la vie. For tonight, he's in a Motel 6 and got the senior discount; naturally, he's happy about that. He also seems to love Denny's restaurants as he's eaten at them for three days in a row. The portions are generous and by his account, the meals actually look just like the photos in the menu!
The following was quoted from Bob for specific inclusion here:
Flash floods in Death Valley
Based on my run of luck, such as three flats within 7 miles on one day, and three flats within 2 days on another occasion, increasing headwinds in the evening coupled with thunderstorms, I predict unprecedented flash floods in Death Valley when I get there.
I entered Colorado at an elevation of over 4,200 feet, topped out at 7,000 feet and have been riding most of the time at around 6,200 feet above sea level. I find no effect on my pace or stamina but I am slow when the altitude is increasing.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
In Arizona
Gregg here: Yesterday, Bob crossed over the Continental Divide and is finally in Arizona! Again, he had a discouraging day with 2 more flat tires and terrible rain. Apparently, it's an afternoon phenomenon that results from heat rising over the course of each day, eventually forming thunderstorms and downpours. He is now in the town of Chambers, Arizona and will try for Holbrook, Arizona tomorrow. It looks to be between 45 and 50 miles and while it's possible that he can go farther, the weather is really the x factor. We discussed the possibility of him starting his ride at sunset and quitting in the afternoon, and he's now asked the motel to wake him up at 6 a.m. so that he'll be on the road at sunrise at 6:30.
Incidentally, the Indian Casino was called Sky City. Once he got into Arizona, most signs had to do with Native American references; he stopped at one "Indian Trading Post" and they didn't charge him for his can of Sprite. The good nature of Americans continues.
Gregg
Incidentally, the Indian Casino was called Sky City. Once he got into Arizona, most signs had to do with Native American references; he stopped at one "Indian Trading Post" and they didn't charge him for his can of Sprite. The good nature of Americans continues.
Gregg
Gallup and Denny's
Gregg here: It was one of the most pleasurable nights of sleep Bob has had in ages. He woke up Saturday morning, however, and realized that yet again, he had another flat. Some piece of steel wire was to blame, but after it was corrected, he finally got on the road though not until 12:30 p.m. The goal was Gallup (sp?), New Mexico which was 81 miles away, but at 5 p.m., the rains came once again, lightly at first, but thereafter steady and hard for 3.5 hours. Bob rode through it and he did make it to Gallup, but it was no fun slogging in the rain. He sounded miserable about the experience in his voicemail to me. The tires and tubes did hold up thankfully.
He went to Denny's for dinner while still wearing his gear and everything. When he went to pay, the waitress said that some guy who admired what he was doing had already paid for him. Bob couldn't even find him to thank him; he had already left. Amazing.
It's not clear where he stayed on Saturday night and I don't know what his plans are for Sunday nor how far he'll go, if the weather will support him, etc., but let's all hope for the best.
Gregg
He went to Denny's for dinner while still wearing his gear and everything. When he went to pay, the waitress said that some guy who admired what he was doing had already paid for him. Bob couldn't even find him to thank him; he had already left. Amazing.
It's not clear where he stayed on Saturday night and I don't know what his plans are for Sunday nor how far he'll go, if the weather will support him, etc., but let's all hope for the best.
Gregg
The Rains in New Mexico
Gregg here: While en route to Las Vegas, New Mexico, Bob ran into some light rain which forced him to put on a rain jacket, but as it got heavier, he doubled back and went to a spot behind him and waited about 4 hours for the rains to pass. Though he was prepared to stay the night (not sure where), around 5 p.m., the skies cleared up so he decided to give it a shot to get the 40 miles to Las Vegas. About 30 miles into it, he got pummeled again by rain. It was cold, raining hard, and Bob was tired, so he decided to hitch the final 10 miles or so. Bob counted 40 or so pickup trucks with empty flatbeds that had gone by but no one stopped. Ironically, the first (and seemingly only) person to stop was a guy driving a huge Mayflower moving truck. The driver had his wife and daughter with him and his rig (it had a two-tiered compartment), and it was packed to the brim. Somehow though, Bob managed to get his bike and all his gear into the truck. The guy drove him to Las Vegas and offered to take him to Santa Fe and even as far as Albuquerque. Given how cold, wet, tired, and miserable Bob was, and despite his misgivings about what it meant to the overall mileage, he accepted even though it meant a little bit of cheating. Given that he had doubled back several times over the course of the trip, he finally decided that it wasn't that bad after all.
In Albuquerque, he wound up staying in a terrible motel with a broken air conditioner. Bob complained to the manager who fiddled with it, but never really fixed it resulting in a rough night of sleep. The next morning, Bob got his bike checked out and also purchased a few extra tubes made by Bontrager (called Slime Tubes) which should help with the spate of flats he's had. It took about an hour and a half for Bob to get out of Albuquerque thereafter, and he immediately had to face a tough climb called Nine Mile Hill, though it was probably only about one mile long; nonetheless, he had no choice but to walk it. He finally got onto Interstate 40 around 2:30 p.m. and got in 67 miles, just about 12 miles from an Indian casino before stopping on a break. He got a burger (he raved about how good it tasted) but later rued the decision to stop when he came outside and saw lightning in three spots on the horizon. He was very worried about if/how he'd make it to the casino (where he thought he'd get accommodations) both because of the weather and because it was dark outside. Yet another good Samaritan and his wife offered to drive behind him and lit up the shoulder/road for him as he rode. At the bottom of a hill where Bob would make the turn to go to the casino, they parted ways but not before sharing contact information. His wife gave Bob her phone number and address so that he'd call her when he arrived in L.A. and confirm that he arrived safely. Bob did make it to the casino/hotel and had a nice (but not cheap) room.
On Saturday, Bob expects to go to Gallup (sp?), New Mexico (81 miles) and maybe beyond. From the casino, he estimates that it's 810 miles to Los Angeles so he may actually get there before Azar. He may attempt the desert at night though to avoid the heat. He's going to research this a bit more before making any definite decisions.
Gregg
In Albuquerque, he wound up staying in a terrible motel with a broken air conditioner. Bob complained to the manager who fiddled with it, but never really fixed it resulting in a rough night of sleep. The next morning, Bob got his bike checked out and also purchased a few extra tubes made by Bontrager (called Slime Tubes) which should help with the spate of flats he's had. It took about an hour and a half for Bob to get out of Albuquerque thereafter, and he immediately had to face a tough climb called Nine Mile Hill, though it was probably only about one mile long; nonetheless, he had no choice but to walk it. He finally got onto Interstate 40 around 2:30 p.m. and got in 67 miles, just about 12 miles from an Indian casino before stopping on a break. He got a burger (he raved about how good it tasted) but later rued the decision to stop when he came outside and saw lightning in three spots on the horizon. He was very worried about if/how he'd make it to the casino (where he thought he'd get accommodations) both because of the weather and because it was dark outside. Yet another good Samaritan and his wife offered to drive behind him and lit up the shoulder/road for him as he rode. At the bottom of a hill where Bob would make the turn to go to the casino, they parted ways but not before sharing contact information. His wife gave Bob her phone number and address so that he'd call her when he arrived in L.A. and confirm that he arrived safely. Bob did make it to the casino/hotel and had a nice (but not cheap) room.
On Saturday, Bob expects to go to Gallup (sp?), New Mexico (81 miles) and maybe beyond. From the casino, he estimates that it's 810 miles to Los Angeles so he may actually get there before Azar. He may attempt the desert at night though to avoid the heat. He's going to research this a bit more before making any definite decisions.
Gregg
Thursday, August 2, 2007
In New Mexico
Gregg here: Bob had a very tough go of things on Wednesday. He called me around 5 p.m. NY time, which was about 3 p.m. New Mexico time. Apparently, there are these burrs in the road which have very sharp pin-like needles (or something to that extent) which are perfectly suited to puncturing bike tubes. He had only gotten a few miles down the road Wednesday morning before stopping for breakfast and upon dismounting his bike, found that his front tire was flat. He then realized that he had lost his two spare tubes and was basically stuck! The owners of the diner, which was closed but sported a "Open 24 hours" sign, appeared and offered to help Bob in his dilemma, and eventually, they found a bike store and Bob was ready to roll again.
When Bob called me with the story, I was driving and unable to write down everything, so my memory is a bit sketchy on what immediately followed, but I think that he was cycling up a very steep pass/hill/mountain and decided that it he'd just hitch a ride to the top. When he stopped and looked down, again he had a flat! He was able to change it, but still wanted a ride to the top of the mountain and waited a bit until a guy slowed down on the other side of the road, shouted that he'd come back around, and finally did so. He was driving an older Toyota (I think) that was stuffed to the gills with who-knows-what... but he had a bike rack on the back with his mountain bike and enough room for Bob's. After getting his bike on the rack, Bob stuffed his bags into the back, and himself into the front. The guy's dog, a long-haired Corgi, clearly loved Bob and kept licking his ear, his neck, etc. We mused that it must have been because of the salt on his skin produced from sweating. The guy was interesting by Bob's account; he's a college student and spent the last month in North Dakota studying burrowing owls (I think that's what Bob said; I'm sure he'll crucify me for any inaccuracies, thus my disclaimer!).
Again, I'm not sure when the following occured in the chronology of his day, but at one point, a man who saw Bob's cycling jersey ("NJ to LA") offered to give him money, just like that! Bob naturally refused but shared with the man the list of charities he's supporting. Bob eventually accepted the donation and took down his (and his wife's) name and address. I can only recall that his name is Joseph Edwards; his wife, I think, is Elaine. If you're reading this, please forgive me if that's incorrect.
In any event, his first 6 hours netted less than 10 miles, but he managed to get in another 50 or so that afternoon and wound up in the town of Springer, New Mexico. He's about 70 miles from the town of Las Vegas, New Mexico where there is a university location and a bike shop. Bob later realized that despite having replenished his stock of lost tubes, he lost yet another tube and tire during the day. He'll stock up again at the bike shop. There weren't many motel options available to him in Springer, but he did find one place with vacancies and got the last room they had.
It's not clear how far he thinks he'll go on Thursday; he called again very late on Wednesday night (I was already asleep) and am only able to convey the thoughts he left on my voicemail. By my estimation, he's about 135 miles from Santa Fe, New Mexico which itself is another 850 miles from his eventual destination in Los Angeles. He'll likely not make Santa Fe tonight, but then again, anything's possible.
When Bob called me with the story, I was driving and unable to write down everything, so my memory is a bit sketchy on what immediately followed, but I think that he was cycling up a very steep pass/hill/mountain and decided that it he'd just hitch a ride to the top. When he stopped and looked down, again he had a flat! He was able to change it, but still wanted a ride to the top of the mountain and waited a bit until a guy slowed down on the other side of the road, shouted that he'd come back around, and finally did so. He was driving an older Toyota (I think) that was stuffed to the gills with who-knows-what... but he had a bike rack on the back with his mountain bike and enough room for Bob's. After getting his bike on the rack, Bob stuffed his bags into the back, and himself into the front. The guy's dog, a long-haired Corgi, clearly loved Bob and kept licking his ear, his neck, etc. We mused that it must have been because of the salt on his skin produced from sweating. The guy was interesting by Bob's account; he's a college student and spent the last month in North Dakota studying burrowing owls (I think that's what Bob said; I'm sure he'll crucify me for any inaccuracies, thus my disclaimer!).
Again, I'm not sure when the following occured in the chronology of his day, but at one point, a man who saw Bob's cycling jersey ("NJ to LA") offered to give him money, just like that! Bob naturally refused but shared with the man the list of charities he's supporting. Bob eventually accepted the donation and took down his (and his wife's) name and address. I can only recall that his name is Joseph Edwards; his wife, I think, is Elaine. If you're reading this, please forgive me if that's incorrect.
In any event, his first 6 hours netted less than 10 miles, but he managed to get in another 50 or so that afternoon and wound up in the town of Springer, New Mexico. He's about 70 miles from the town of Las Vegas, New Mexico where there is a university location and a bike shop. Bob later realized that despite having replenished his stock of lost tubes, he lost yet another tube and tire during the day. He'll stock up again at the bike shop. There weren't many motel options available to him in Springer, but he did find one place with vacancies and got the last room they had.
It's not clear how far he thinks he'll go on Thursday; he called again very late on Wednesday night (I was already asleep) and am only able to convey the thoughts he left on my voicemail. By my estimation, he's about 135 miles from Santa Fe, New Mexico which itself is another 850 miles from his eventual destination in Los Angeles. He'll likely not make Santa Fe tonight, but then again, anything's possible.
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