Week 2 Photos

When we heard that 35-mph wind gusts were forecasted (correctly!) for today, Larry and Marilyn generously offered to have us stay with them an extra night, so we're still in Las Cruces. Tomorrow we plan to leave before 7 am and make it through El Paso by the end of the day, but while I had some free time this afternoon, I uploaded our photos from this past week onto the Internet! I've included some of our favorites below, but if you want to see more, you can go to our Webshots account at http://community.webshots.com/user/bikeXC and click on our 'Week 2' album. Enjoy!
-- Kate

Superstition Mountains

Prairie fields just over the New Mexico border

Continental Divide crossing

Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument

Santa Rita copper mine

Emory Pass!

March 28th- Las Cruces, NM

When we left Silver City, I naively assumed we might make it up and over Emory Pass that first day. Kate was more realistic. What we realized within a very few miles of setting out was that we were both still incredibly fatigued. I kidded Kate that days off were not a good idea. In fact, it became pretty clear that the high altitude was finally getting to us. Our muscles ached, and we were easily winded. By midday, when we took a break for lunch, we decided against an assault of the summit in favor of staying in one of the National Forest campgrounds halfway to the peak. And so that night we camped at about 7,000 ft in a wonderful campground in deep pine forest under the most extraordinary canopy of stars, not settling into the tent until the fire had died back and the night had become too cold -- a night I will not soon forget.

The climb to the summit was much easier the next morning -- the terrain hadn’t changed, and if anything became much steeper, but we were more well rested, and by around 11 am we had crested 8,228 feet and were staring east out of the Rockies and into the vast plain of the Rio Grande River Valley. Part of our apprehension about this climb was that the description had been rather foreboding -- narrow road, steep ascent, no shoulders, no guardrails -- and in fact all of these things were true -- but on this particular Monday morning, with little to no traffic and clear views to the horizon, the trip was magical. We coasted eastward effortlessly on a beautiful road with excellent riding surface, the descent not too steep, the switchbacks quite manageable. About two miles down the mountain we met a woman Amy who was biking alone and was traveling from Florida to San Diego, again reminding us, as Kate has mentioned, that we are actually on "a route." It was an encouraging encounter. She was strong, enthusiastic about her trip, and, to us, inspiring. We asked her to let us know through this blog when she arrives.

We also encountered an impressive couple, the Winklers, who were biking up to the pass [mind you, from their home this is a climb of over 3,000 feet] for the simple pleasure of it all. We re-encountered them at lunch in the Hillsboro General Store and Cafe where we’d stopped for a bite to eat. They’d been to the top and back in the time we’d descended ... like I said, impressive. The hill towns of Kingston and Hillsboro were silver mining towns in the mid-1800’s that sprung out of nowhere when silver was discovered in those mountains and disappeared almost as suddenly when the price of silver plummeted at the turn of the century. Kingston seemed to have little left of it, but Hillsboro is a vital and very funky community of artists and interesting folks like the Winklers, and our lunch was great. My first good cup of coffee in many miles, and something they called "bumbleberry pie" for dessert, a hodgepodge of different berries and fruits, that we couldn’t pass up. Quite memorable.

Within 35 miles of the summit we had descended 3,800 feet to the Caballo Reservoir, where we spent the night last night just underneath the dam in a nice state park, tent pitched in the grass underneath a tree, the Rio Grande river a very few steps away. Today we have battled a strong and fluky wind to Las Cruces, where we are being delightfully cared for by a wonderful couple, Larry and Marilyn Gioannini, who we had befriended in Silver City and who had invited us to stay with them here. They have a lovely house and the most generous spirit. We’ve done a load of laundry, bathed, been treated to a fine meal of enchiladas at a local eatery, challenged by stimulating conversation, and now, as the household is sleeping, I’ve been left alone with Larry’s laptop -- some would say not an entirely good thing given my capacities for rambling on ...

So we are east of the Rockies. The southern Rocky Mountains -- the Mongollons, the Mimbres, the Black Range -- these are different than I had imagined, older, more sedate, less imposing than their more flamboyant, brash cousins in Colorado or Idaho to the north. In the National Forest there are tall stands of pines, that both Kate and I have commented on -- but we comment on them as much for their being unusual as for their majesty. Much of the hillsides here are sparsely forested with low juniper mostly, and cactus is visible in the grasses between these trees even at high altitude. Emory Pass was craggy and steep, but other peaks as high seem more staid, less formidable. You sense that you are in a range of very old mountains -- no brash upstarts here. And all around you are reminders that you are still in the Southwest. The Gila [that’s ‘Heela’] National Forest, the first designated national wilderness area in the country, is a magical place -- and the cliff dwellings, as Kate has said, are almost beyond description, as if one can sense there a presence that goes back centuries.

Now we’ve entered this vast river valley, with a majesty all its own. The legendary Rio Grande. From Caballo [‘Cab-eye-o’] south the plain becomes again quite agricultural, now with pecan orchards and fields of onions and chili peppers. This is the chili pepper capital of the country, we are told -- and while they are not growing now [it is still very early spring at these altitudes -- the pecan trees are bare, and the fields just being planted -- sprouts of onions spread to the horizon, and an occasional flowering cherry or plum draws your attention from someone’s yard], there are drying barns every few miles and workers can be seen packing huge crates of dried chilis onto trucks. Winter crops of cotton must have been only recently harvested, since tufts of cotton balls clump along the edge of the road. Hawks and eagles still keep us company. Roadrunners dart across the pavement in front of us. There is a fertile plain that stretches for miles and miles in every direction. One can only imagine the enormity of the river that once shaped this valley. Today it is a mere hint of its former self. Below the Caballo dam it is a small river, not much wider than the Charles around Newton, or the Concord where it passes under the Old North Bridge. At first this seems odd until we realize that, again here, there are canals flowing frequently inland on both sides of the river carrying the irrigation water that sustains the agriculture here. It is not unusual for us to see whole fields flooded as we pass by, now that spring planting is underway. I can only imagine the bitter battles that establish who gets water, and when. By the time we approach Las Cruces, through Radium Springs, the country becomes more hilly, the valley closes in, and the river regains something of its grandeur.

Kate and I travel together remarkably well. We’re both now quite fit, and our aching muscles usually settle out within a few miles each morning. Kate’s got calf muscles that will put Peter Raymond’s to shame -- for those of you who don’t know Peter Raymond, think "redwood tree" or "steel girder." By now "buns of steel" have taken on a whole new meaning for us.

It’s still quite cold most mornings. One of us makes tea on the campstove, and sometimes oatmeal or pancakes -- but if we’re itching to get going it may only be a granola bar or an apple. Kate most often rides first, and keeps a comfortable pace. I allow myself a paternalistic devotion to ‘guarding her flank’ by riding behind her, which so far she has allowed ... parenthood does have its prerogatives, after all -- but in truth there are very few other things that we do not share equally in every way. We carry equally heavy loads, we share the tasks of daily living and the decision-making.

Our bikes have been wonderful. A short bow to ‘Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance’ would not be out of order. I am most certainly still an engineer by disposition [for better or for worse -- ask Lynne about the hordes of half-finished projects littering our lives] and I delight in being able to understand how things work. My 35 year-old copy of the Idiot’s Guide to Volkswagen Repair, still kicking around somewhere, is a tattered, grease-stained relic. A bicycle is, to my thinking, the most magnificent of machines -- and, by the way, still the perfect way to see the country! A bike is simplicity itself, utterly easy to understand and to live with. A bicycle is almost self-explanatory. You squeeze the brake and watch the cable compress the brake pads against the wheel. You move the shifter and see the chain tumble up or down onto the gears. Simple. Elegant. Try explaining how your cell phone works, or try fixing it if it screws up. But a bicycle ...

Our morning ritual usually includes basic bike stuff -- check the tire pressure by feeling the tires, check the wheels for true, make sure the panniers are secure, check the free-play in the brakes. Oil the chain if it’s dry. Make sure nothing’s loose or hanging free. We each do these things instinctively now. We slowly become one with these machines. During the day we are quite literally attached to the bikes since we are clipped to the pedals while we ride -- and the more we pay attention to the squeaks and groans of the bike over a day of riding, and the more fit we become, the more I at least begin to feel that we are in fact quite a part of this thing under us. Lynne once said it aptly -- we become more the machine and less the baggage.

The bikes do just what we want them to do. They carry a load effortlessly, and in fact seem almost happier when loaded. On a slight decline with a trailing wind you can get into the highest gear and effortlessly fly along -- but they will take a steep uphill grade almost as effortlessly, and shift back and forth easily between these extremes. There have been a few times we might have wanted even lower gears, but those were the times we have felt we were going up almost vertically -- and even here it seems mostly easier to pedal than to walk the bike. There was one time, going up the switchbacks on that unnamed peak between Arizona and New Mexico, when I found myself in something of a race with a centipede crawling alongside me -- when, over ten or twenty yards, I wondered if it might be gaining ground on me. It occurred to me -- and I swear I had time to think this all through carefully -- that if he did start to outdistance me, I might simply swerve ever so slightly to the right and end the competition irrefutably in my favor ... but I didn’t ... and soon the road leveled enough for me to pull ahead. Later the whole thing seemed an apt metaphor to the way America conducts its foreign policy ... the things one thinks about on a bicycle ...

So tomorrow, unless the forecasted winds from the south become too foreboding, we’ll find ourselves in El Paso, Texas. Can’t keep from humming old Grateful Dead. Today was a challenge. Headwinds that slowed us to a crawl for miles at a time, then turning to hit us broadside. An occasional dust storm that dropped visibility and left a fine dusty powder in the back of our throats. It was the promise of this wonderful family and the roof over our heads that kept us going -- and we’re delighted to be here tonight. We’ll have to see what the morning brings.

Such a trip.

Once we’re through El Paso we head toward Del Rio. We’ll again be in smaller towns, and our updates may again become infrequent for a while -- but we’ll try our best. Keep us in your hearts and prayers. It matters. And thanks to those of you who’ve contributed to the Jimmy Fund. That matters, too. We really do appreciate it.

Our love ....
-- Jim

March 24th- Silver City, NM

Hi!
After crossing the Continental Divide yesterday at 6,230 ft., we decided to take a day off in Silver City, New Mexico to recover from a hard week of climbing. We are tired but doing great.

It took a while to get rolling again after we left Tempe due to inclement weather (apparently the Phoenix area didn't get any rain for nearly 150 days... until we came to town!). We left Tempe late in the day on Saturday (3/18) with the intention to go only about 25 miles to a campground in Apache Junction ("AJ"), and then set off into the hills early the next morning. However, the next day was miserable, and we holed up waiting for the weather to break. We were itching to get back on the road, especially since we were so well-rested from our days off in Tempe, so we felt a bit frustrated that we were stuck in AJ.

However, by the next morning the skies had begun to clear, and we set off early. From Apache Junction, we climbed to Gonzales Pass at 2651 ft. and then dipped down into the town of Superior, where we warmed ourselves up over lunch at a great cafe next to the "world's smallest museum" (as an art and museum lover, how could I possibly resist?). By this time, the landscape had changed back from desert to mountains... the road cut through these enormous, jagged, reddish-brown cliffs, and you could see that many of the peaks in the distance had snow on them! It was a steep climb out of Superior and over a pass at 4600 ft., but it was just good to get back on the bikes again. We're also starting to feel how much stronger we've gotten since those initial hills in San Diego! That evening, the people of Globe, AZ generously let us set up camp outside their community center, which was also right next to the Besh Ba Gowah Archaeological Park (ancient Pueblo ruins).

On March 21st, we had an exhausting ride against a headwind through the San Carlos Apache Reservation to Thatcher, AZ (77 miles). The elevation profile on our Adventure Cycling maps showed the route to be basically flat (with the exception of two short, but steep, climbs), but in fact we spent most of the day dipping and rising with the wind at our face, so by the time we reached Thatcher we were exhausted! We stayed on the road until nearly sunset, and saw the beautiful evening light shining through the clouds and onto the mountains (at this point we could see several mountain ranges to our south, north, and east).

I was basically dead to the world once I crawled into my sleeping bag that night, but when I woke up Dad told me that another big storm had come through and battered us with wind and rain overnight (and dumped snow on the tall mountain peak just south of us!). We got a later start that day because we realized that I'd gotten a flat tire (not too surprising since much of the road had been covered in glass and "rumble strips" the day before, but it was still my first one this trip), but we were blessed with a stiff tailwind for much of our ride. The road (US 191) was very scenic (beautiful mesas, desert to either side, and that snowy mountain behind us), and the previous night's storm had left clear skies, bright sun, and moderate temperatures in its wake... virtually a perfect day! We climbed about 30 miles to a pass, and then came around the bend to see fields, cows in desert scrub, and mountains before coasting down into a valley, over the Gila river, and up a bit to Three Way.

In Three Way we stopped at the US Forest Service ranger station, and the people there could not have been nicer or more generous. Rosalie, the forest fire fighters, and other Forest Service rangers were extremely helpful (they gave us invaluable information about campsites, weather, roads, etc.), they let us camp on their lawn, they told us we should feel free to use facilities in their trailer, and they filled our containers up with cooking oil and white gas.

We had an exhausting ride the next day over a high pass near the Arizona/New Mexico border... the climb was steep, especially around the switchbacks as you neared the top, but luckily there was virtually no traffic on the road, so we were able to really enjoy the scenery as we rode (including horses grazing alongside the road that tried to find the food in Dad's panniers while he was busy taking photos!). Once we made it over the pass (6295 ft.) and began our descent, we found ourselves on a gorgeous, winding road (one of my very favorite rides so far) that cut through a thick forest of pine trees (up until now, we'd seen very few trees along our route)!

About 6 miles after the pass, we crossed over into New Mexico, and shortly thereafter we left the woods and emerged onto the prairie! We've haven't even been on the road 3 weeks, and already I've been bowled over by the dramatic changes in landscape we've seen. As we've described in these blog entries, these changes aren't just from state to state or county to county as you might expect... it isn't unusual for us to ride through arid desert, green forest, and golden prairie in one day like we did on the 23rd!

In the late afternoon, we battled a strong headwind as we rode into the small town of Buckhorn, NM... we were exhausted, and those last 9 miles were brutal! Unfortunately this same wind (probably even stronger!) pushed against us yesterday as we climbed from Buckhorn up to the Continental Divide-- by the time we reached Silver City, we were about ready to collapse!!

Today we gave our legs and bikes a rest and went to visit the Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument about 40 miles north of Silver City. This place was so incredible-- we took tons of great photos that we'll try to put online soon, but type it into Google if you want to see what we're talking about in the meantime (although the site really doesn't do the monument justice). Afterwards we took a walk and found a hot spring, and now we're getting ready to settle in for the night. Tomorrow we plan to leave Silver City and start making our way towards El Paso, TX. We have one more steep climb over Emory Pass (at 8,228 ft., the highest point on our route) before we enter Texas, but we're feeling strong and well-rested, and we can't wait to get going! Miss you all!!
-- Kate

Week 1 Photos

This is Kate and Jim's friend Eliot posting. They are periodically mailing me CDs of the photos they take both for safekeeping and so that I can upload them over a fast web connection. A small number are going up here on the weblog (everyone should know that a larger version will pop up if you click on any photo here, by the way); a larger number can be seen here, at their webshots.com pages. You can go directly to the webshots.com Week 1 album if you click this link.

I am hoping that the next time Kate and Jim log on (hello out there!) they will see fit to caption some of the photos — here and/or at webshots.com — and tell us what we are seeing. (If I knew what they referred to with certainty, I would be tempted to move some of the shots back down to the earlier weblog postings which describe the same scenes, but since you have already read those you might miss the photos if I did that...)

Rainbow on the side of the mountains at In-Ko-Pah Pass

Yuha Desert

Dunes

Kate riding through the dunes

Boys and their bikes outside the Glamis Beach Shop (next to the dunes)

David and Azulito, the flying dog

Next to the Colorado River

Sunset and moonrise in Quartzsite

Orange flowers, mountains, and desert (just west of Wickenburg)

PS: Good news! As I was working on this post, I noticed that Kate and Jim have logged onto Blogger and have started the draft of their next post. It won't be long now until we have the next installment from them!

March 17th- Tempe, AZ (cont.)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
We rode through Phoenix yesterday afternoon and have stopped to take a rest day in Tempe before tackling the Rocky Mountains to the east! For those of you tracking our route (either mentally or on a map), here's a quick run-down of the stops we've made since our last update: from Blythe, we crossed into a new state (and new time zone!) and spent the night in Quartzsite, AZ. On 3/14 we rode 38 miles to Harcuvar, on the 15th we rode about 60 miles to Wickenburg, and yesterday we rode 73 miles to Tempe.

Now for more details... in Brenda, AZ we had our first encounter with other bikers traveling along the Southern Tier route. They were only riding to El Paso, and they planned to stay in motels the entire way so their load was much lighter, but it was bizzare to realize that we are, in fact, on a published route. I'd gotten so into thinking what an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime trip this is that I'd lost sight of the fact that other people also use Adventure Cycling maps!

The ride to Wickenburg was the first time we encontered a long stretch of flat terrain. Since we'd spent the first few days of our trip in the hills and mountains, the day wasn't as physically demanding as some of our other rides had been, but the flats were surprisingly hard for us psychologically. The desert was beautiful, and we saw some beautiful wildlife (gorgeous orange flowers blooming alongside the road, jack rabbits dashing through the sand, and coyotes that wandered right in front of our bikes!), but the road ahead continued as far as the eye could see and then some(eventually it turned into a mirage)!

Yesterday we had a great ride... we left Wickenburg around 9:00 (even though our clocks have only shifted one hour ahead, we're still adapting to the time zone change!), and in the morning we were able to push out a nice, strenuous pace on the gradual terrain. After that, we entered Surprise, AZ and prepared ourselves for more urban riding, since the map showed us riding through Phoenix and its surrounding cities. However, Adventure Cycling did a wonderful job of navigating us away from the bustle of traffic, and we rode most of the rest of the day on suburban streets and bike paths. We stopped at a motel in Tempe last night, and we've taken today to regroup and do some errands before hitting the road again either tomorrow or the next day.

Going into this trip, I expected motel stops to be a welcome treat after a long stretch of riding and camping, but it was actually quite depressing to spend the night in a Days Inn. First of all, I've recently acquired a love of camping and sleeping outdoors, but we've also been pleasantly surprised by our experiences camping in RV parks this past week. The people we've met (RV park owners, "snowbirds", and many others who share our passion for traveling) have been SO welcoming and friendly. People come from all over the continent in their RVs and trailers (you see license plates from nearly every state plus Canada), but they form very tight-knit communities in these parks and we've been welcomed warmly into them night after night. In every place we've stayed, we've encountered people who go out of their way to make us more comfortable-- the people at the Desert Gem insisted we use their kitchen and cookware to make our meals so we didn't have to use our camp stove, a couple in Wickenburg ran to their trailer to get a Ziploc bag of ice for our sore muscles, a woman in Quartzsite came over from her house to offer us some of her firewood, and countless others have been extremely generous and supportive.

Tons to do today, so I'll stop here, but there are plenty more stories and observations to share when we're not constrained by fickle computers and long-distance communication! I was studying the map last night, and unfortunately it doesn't look like there we'll have access to the internet for quite a while. However, we've put our digital photos on a disc to send to a friend back home, so you should see those soon (thanks to Eliot!), and we'll try to figure out a way to get updated information on the blog while we're away from the computer. If not, talk to you once we're over the Rockies! Thanks for all of the support and kind words we've received so far, and we're glad you're following us on our journey!
- Kate

March 17th- Tempe, AZ (cont.)

OK, I wasn’t going to post anything this time, I promised – and, really, I meant it – but Kate and I are sitting in the wonderfully fine Tempe, Arizona public library, and I’ve got a couple of compelling reasons to say some things myself. Kate is giving the account of our progress. I get to be the “color commentator.”

This trip has become somewhat more complex than I might have originally thought. This blog site is a wonderful way for us to keep friends and family updated, and to communicate with friends we meet along the way. Kate and I realized early on that it was important to keep in mind that many people would be visiting us here and following our progress, and that we would need to be mindful of that as we composed our saga. Last evening I read the long and quite poignant comments from a woman we’d met in Glamis, California, which is the tiny town mostly identified by its general store at the far side of the sand dunes I had described. She is disquieted by things I have said that suggest we were disingenuous or solicitous in our encounter with them. We remember her well, and we remember quite fondly our encounter with her son and his friend. If you haven’t read what she said, and if you’re interested in what I’m about to say, it would be a good idea to read it now. She is only “anonymous” on record, and I have no way of writing back to her, which I would love to do [Eliot, is there a way to find her? Eliot, FYI, is my good friend and our blog expert].

We have set out to see America … by bike … which, in case you’re interested, still seems to be the best way to see it. But we have also set out determined to meet America – and again here, being on a bike makes this extremely possible. Conversation comes easy. People are interested, very interested, in our trip. The answer to “so, where’re you heading” is an immediate show-stopper. We’ve met fabulously interesting people – a wonderful fellow David who was traveling with his dog Azulito and his ultra-light and several hang-gliders, who lives half the year on his ranch at 10,000 ft in northeastern Oregon fabribcating bronze sculptures and spends the rest of the year traveling south as far as Mexico looking for places to pilot his kites [he takes his dog flying with him – it’s so cool!], an intimate of the Grateful Dead and Neill Young who knows them well and has extraordinary tales to tell; Don Christensen, who runs the Desert Gem RV Park in Salome, Arizona and is the nicest fellow you’d ever want to meet; several other kind and generous people in that same RV park who etched themselves into our hearts and who we hope will be following us across the country.

I count among those generous people the woman whose name I cannot recall or maybe never got, the one who has commented on this blog site. I want to tell her that I was wrong to even give the impression of casting aspersions or seeming to “judge” what was going on in those sand dunes that day. We will post pictures in a few days – we downloaded them from Kate’s camera at the CVS around the corner an hour ago – and I will be sure to enclose the one we took of her son and his friend – it’s a great shot – proud young kids doing what they enjoy, delighted to be there and to have us take their picture. That scene was completely new to us – and I venture to say there are plenty of people who, like us, would have left that scene with questions and some measure of disbelief. But my admitted tendency to be glib or cavalier in making statements that are judgmental has been challenged by the thoughtful reply “anonymous” has given us. We learned while in Glamis that many, many people use that recreational area in the way we observed. I was told that last Thanksgiving weekend there were 200,000 people there. That’s a lot of folks! ATV’s and recreational vehicles are so much a part of this landscape that it would be hard to imagine an hour in which we haven't seen at least several. It’s hard to find a vehicle in this part of the world without a trailer hitch – in fact, it seems almost unheard of. What we learn and will try to be more mindful of is that there are extraordinarily different ways to “pursue happiness” and we will need to allow ourselves to be challenged by what we see more than judging it from our limited perspective. If our trip takes on a bigger challenge, it is just that – to allow our experience to broaden our appreciation for what we see and learn. Kate and I have talked about this a lot. I was sobered by that thoughtful and impassioned response from that woman from Glamis. We hope she will visit our site again, and appreciate that she’s taught us a valuable lesson.
So, how’s that for long-winded?

A little more color commentary. Since arriving in Arizona, we’ve been mostly in the desert, at varying elevations. You will begin to note that we comment frequently on elevation and wind direction – both become vitally important when you’re on a bicycle. A 10 MPH headwind can slow your progress by half, and the same 10 MPH tailwind can add 50% distance to an hour’s pedaling. Winds directly at our side are mostly a nuisance, but as soon as they creep abaft abeam [probably my favorite sailing term of all time], they give us aid, and even the slightest drift into our faces slows us down. Likewise with ups and downs. From Brenda, Arizona to Wickenburg we mostly climbed at an almost imperceptible grade for a day and a half – but it seemed like hard work. The day was clear and hot, and there was no shade anywhere. On the other hand, from Wickenburg to Phoenix, even with a bit of a headwind, we seemed to fly, and we covered nearly 40 miles in 3 hours.

Nights in the desert are quite cold, often down to freezing. We’ve woken up with frost all over the panniers. But the sun warms things quickly, and by afternoon it is extremely pleasant though not really too hot. I’ve only been in a t-shirt one day. Kate usually rides with a wind jacket. The terrain is beautiful, cactus and scrub vegetation as far as the eye can see, which is generally to mountain ranges at the horizon line toward which we plod or away from which we depart. Occasionally the desert gives way to huge irrigated, plowed fields. Very impressive. At these altitudes [1-2,000 ft] nothing is growing, unlike in the Imperial Valley which was so lush. But planting is underway. I’d love to be here in 6 weeks and see what’s coming up. There was one place outside of Aguila, Arizona where huge fields as far as the eye could see were covered in rows of plastic. Imagine a whole county covered by a sheet of clear plastic. What must be going on under there?

Weight continues to be another daily point of discussion. We have yet to eat through the rations we bought in San Diego – but we’re determined to do so soon, as from Phoenix we begin our ascent into the western slopes of the Rockies. If I could add weight, though, it would be for a book on wildflowers, and another on birds. The desert has been dry, quite dry, but occasionally we find an area so abloom with flowers, flowers I’ve never before seen, it is simply spectacular. We’ll try to download a picture or two. Hawks and eagles fly overhead, and there are beautiful songbirds I can’t identify. On the way to Wickenburg a pack of coyotes loped across the road in front of us.

We’re recuperating for a day here in Tempe before setting out again. In a very friendly bike shop I bought new brake pads and replaced a broken mirror. We’re getting photos downloaded and restocking the few [lightweight!] provisions like crackers we need. From here, as I’ve said, we begin our trek into the Rockies. For those of you following the route, we proceed directly east from here, through Apache Junction, Superior, Globe, Safford, and then into New Mexico toward Silver City, where we cross the Continental Divide. We hope to be in El Paso in a couple weeks – and we hope the winter weather that has been plaguing the southwest doesn’t trouble us as we get into the mountains. Our highest point on the trip will be just over 8,200 feet. That’s pretty high. Communication may be a bit more sporadic as we get into the mountains, but we’ll do our best.
Time to get moving! Between Kate and me, we’ve surely given you something to read about this time!

-- Jim

March 13th- Blythe, CA

Beautiful day, have stopped in Blythe for a bite to eat and to use the library computer. Kate says it's my turn for an update.

The short and sweet: We were forced to stay in El Centro an extra day, the weather being patently uncooperative. The winter storm we thought we'd escaped when we left the mountains descended into the valley, and we had threats of strong winds and thunderstorms through the day. Even cars were advised against going into the desert b/c of threats of sand storms. The same storm dumped several inches of [unheard of] snow in Phoenix, which had been without precipitation for 140-something days.

So we holed up and waited. There is not much to do in El Centro, by our estimation.
Yesterday, however, was perfect, and we put 81 miles under us. Spent last night camping along the Colorado River just short of Palo Verde, for those of you following the route. And today we have arrived in Blythe just short of noontime, have had a bite to eat, and will continue on. Expect to camp in Quartzsite, a town famous to "rock hounds," tonight.

OK, that's the short version -- and it's probably where most of you should stop for today. For those of you used to my long-winded narratives, here's a brief geography lesson based on our personal experience:
The mountains west of San Diego are formidable and worthy of respect. My trepidations about being in reasonable shape proved legitimate. We climbed to over 4,000 feet twice, as Kate told you -- but with the ups and downs we most certainly climbed more than 6,00 ft total, nearly 1 1/4 miles up, in the first two days. You'd think, being so close to the coast, these mountains would be fairly inhabited -- but they're dry, treeless, and not altogether friendly, and there seem to be few people who live there. Once we descended [quite precipitously -- see Kate's description] out of the mountains, we immediately entered the Yuha Desert at about 500 feet, which descends gradually into the Imperial Valley, the dividing line seemingly not much more than that place where the irrigation canals have extended. The Imperial Valley lies below sea level. It is a remarkably fertile plain where it seems you could probably put a seed in in the morning and pick produce that evening. Desert scrub magically transforms in an instant into mega-agro-business, crop-dusters flying overhead, huge tractors in the fields, laden produce trucks pulling out on us and dropping stray carrots along the way. The smells are different. Birds are in the air. Quite remarkable.

We got stuck in El Centro, which is in the center of the valley (duh!), a town of 40,000 spread out in California fashion, with (it seemed to us) little charm and even less to do. We were glad when we could get back on the road.

We progressed north and then east, through Imperial and Brawley, and out the eastern edge of the valley, which ends as abruptly as the other side had begun, up into desert, and then into the most amazing dunes scene we had ever seen. To the north of the road is the North Algodones Dunes Wilderness Area, a vast expanse of high sand dunes, pristine, so beautiful we needed to stop frequently for pictures. Sand often drifting across the road. To the south of the road the dunes are smaller, but these are unprotected -- and it seems to have attracted the most unbelievable collection of dune-buggy renegades imaginable, souped up vehicles seemingly a cross between Rommel's desert vehicles [younger readers, do a history lesson!] and California crazies -- candy pink, high performance buggies flying off of dunes and disappearing in packs. There were off-road motorbikers flying 30 or 40 feet in the air, there were young kids on scaled back versions of these things, there were grandmothers ("what the flip was Grandma doin' at the dunes?", Napoleon Dynamite fans). It was bizarre --entertaining but, to us disconcerting, a good argument for protected wilderness areas!

Left these dunes to climb gradually into the Chocolate Mountains, so named for their color, and then descended into the Colorado River Valley where we find ourselves now. The road up into the pass was magnificent -- wide shoulders, fabulous scenery -- but the road down got more precarious, as the shoulder narrowed, and the hordes we had found in the dunes began their treks home, huge motor homes hauling huge trailers, as reckless behind the wheels of their vehicles as they had seemed hours before. We were glad to find the county park where we stayed last night.

We are again in a fertile plain, with huge fields surrounding us and mountains on all sides beyond. We will leave this town in a short time, descend to the river and cross into Arizona (a new state, a new time zone!, then begin another ascent over a small range before descending in a few days into Phoenix.

We are tired but in surprisingly good shape -- to those Sledgehammers paying attention, the erg training was very helpful, even if my performance in the CRASH B's proved mediocre -- I was, after all, competing to be the penultimate competitor in my class! Kate and I are both in high spirits. Shoulders, forearms, the heels of our hands, and butts are taking the brunt of the pain at the moment.

Time to get going. We're grateful for the support we're receiving, which is overwhelming. I learn from the blog comments that several of you have dusted off bicycles in shame. Others have contributed generously to Kate's fund-raising effort, which we both very much appreciate. We'll try to keep you updated as best we can. Kate will likely do the next one -- so relax, you won't have to risk falling asleep for that one! I'm thinking our next chance to update may be in Phoenix.
-- Jim

March 10th- El Centro (cont.)

Kate will likely have given you the “blow by blow” on the last few quite exciting days. We’re trying to beat the clock in the El Centro library, which is about to close. For those of you following the route, our 1st night was in Alpine, at 2,000 ft. Last night in Boulevard at around 3,400, awaking this morning to a snowstorm, the beginning of a late winter blast from Alaska that is hitting San Diego as we speak. We beat it out of the mountains today, but the 25 mph plus tailwind did follow us, and blew us kindly across the desert with surprisingly little effort, until we were forced to head north and catch its fury abeam. There’s a hint that the storm will descend into the desert – an unusual occurrence – and one guy told us this afternoon that they were prepared to release the schools early so the kids could get home ahead of it. Weird. They obviously don’t know winter storms here!

But … we are being cautious and have again chosen a cheap motel to camping out. We’re blowing our motel budget before we get out of California!

I’ll write more when we have more time.
Thank you all for your support.
It’s going great so far – not without tribulations … but that's what “great” really means, doesn’t it?
--- Jim

March 10th- El Centro CA

Hi everyone!
We are on the road and have dashed into the El Centro public library before it closes to give you an update of our journey thus far!

It's been an intense three days- we dipped our tires into the Pacific Ocean around 9:00 Wednesday morning (thanks to Linda Elander for posting the photos she took!) and started our climb out of San Diego and into the mountains. The first two days were basically straight uphill- the highest elevation we reached was over 4,000 ft., but the total climb was much greater since we dipped down into several valleys as we rode. It was beautiful in the mountains, but our legs were definitely aching by the end of the day, especially since we'd made the mistake of stocking up on food rations before we left San Diego (word of advice to anyone attempting this trip in the future: buy food AFTER the mountains!).

The first day we rode 36 miles from San Diego to Alpine, CA, and yesterday we rode 41 miles from Alpine to Boulevard, CA. I'd love to flesh out the details of those days, but since I'm pressed for time I'm going to tell you about our day today since we had the most incredible ride -- This morning we woke up early and saw snow starting to fall outside our window! We'd heard that this was supposed to turn into a major storm later in the day, so we jumped out of bed and hopped on our bikes. Luckily the snow wasn't sticking and the roads were clear, so although our feet were wet and freezing, we were able to make it through the passes at higher elevations. We climbed for about 1.5 hrs, but then we plummeted down below sea level and into the DESERT! Talk about a change in landscape! The desert was absolutely gorgeous, and we were blessed with a strong tailwind so we were able to sail along (at up to 30 mph with minimal pedaling!) and recover from the early-morning hills. Soon we found ourselves out of the desert and into lush, green farmland (we had left the federally-protected Yuha Desertand entered the Imperial Valley, where the land had been irrigated to grow crops). From there we battled a strong cross-wind until we headed towards El Centro... and as we were riding we got a free show from the squadron of Blue Angels fighter jets flying overhead!

So today was quite the day... over the course of 61 miles, we went from snow and mountains to heat and desert, and from climbing in the lowest possible gear on our bikes to riding with a tailwind in the highest possible gear! Unfortunately they're kicking us out of the library, but we wanted to let you know that we're both safe and having the time of our lives. As tough as some of those hills were on our bodies, we haven't questioned this trip for one moment, and we can't wait to see what lies ahead! Love to everyone at home, and look for another update soon!
-- Kate

Preparations and Departure on 3/8

Preparations in San Diego

March 7th- San Diego, CA

Making final preparations in San Diego. We leave tomorrow morning.
Arrived quite late on Saturday night after two unexpected plane changes due to some unidentified mechanical problems with the plane, and after apprehensively watching out the plane window as our boxed bikes got tossed from one cargo hold to another. But my cousin Linda, with whom I've now made a solid and wonderful reunion after many years of being out of touch (Kate had never met her), was there to meet us with her friend Jim, and we've had the luxury of staying with her and using her garage for bike re-assembly and working through the many last-minute details of the trip. She's been accomodating and absolutely terrific.

So ... enough of boring details. The bikes are fitted out, the weather is gorgeous (sorry, New England!), and there are mountains looming to the east that at first blush seem quite intimidating -- but in fact we can't wait to get started. Linda lives only a mile from our departure point. We've biked there twice already to "scope it out" ... the first time Sunday afternoon just to see that the bikes were in order, and yesterday with panniers on and a partial load, to see how we would do with weight [the bikes seem actually "happier" carrying a load, and we're both quite comfortable riding like this]. We've watched surfers riding these near perfect waves so foreign to Massachusetts, been to the top of Mt. Soledad in La Jolla with Linda for a stunning panoramic view of the area, eaten 99 cent fish tacos around the corner from Linda's place. Been to Bernie's Bike Shop to borrow a tool and seek a little advice, and to the Ocean Beach hardware store around the block from Bernie's for a couple longer bolts to attach the front racks [anybody who, like me, finds reason to praise a proper, old-time hardware store with creaky wooden floors and lots of bins full of mismatched 'stuff' would have felt they were in the right place]. Kate's been working on this web site and on the email list that will keep us in touch. Let us know, please, if you have trouble getting through to this site ... or if we've somehow set it up so you're getting barraged with unwanted emails ...

Today we're off to the grocery store for supplies, the camera store for film [yes, film ... we're both still something of purists, and Kate and I intend to swap back and forth between the Pentax I've brought and the digital she has with her ... my three pounds of camera gear vs. her probably three ounces! ... every extra ounce may feel like a regretable ton as we approach the Rockies!], and then we'll pack the bikes in earnest. Linda intends to see us off in the morning.

--- Jim

For PHOTOS, visit http://community.webshots.com/user/bikeXC

With 3 days to go...

If you’ve found your way to this site this early in our adventure, it’s probably because you’re family, or a friend, or a work colleague, or you read about us in the local paper -- or maybe you’re one of the people we’ve met in our shopping for bikes or gear or something else on our seemingly endless list of preparations. Welcome. We are excited you’re coming along for the ride.

Kate has done a pretty good job of talking about the kinds of things we get asked every day – what bikes will you take, what’s your route, are you in shape, how long’s it going to take, how many miles do you figure you’ll do in a day? We had agreed that before we left we wanted to post something on this site about expectations, hopes, fears, apprehensions … but quite frankly, in the whirlwind of final preparations for such an endeavor as this, in trying to gear up for a cross country trip and to prepare as well as we can for leaving our lives in Scituate and Boston behind for a good while, with now three days and still a very long “to do” list left, I am frantic. Tonight I’m still intending to finish up the income tax, and to confirm that most of the monthly bills can be paid online. My capacities for introspection are, at the moment, limited.

I can say this. We are about to embark on one of those trips of a lifetime. I consider myself so extraordinarily fortunate – flattered and excited beyond measure that my daughter actually asked me to do this with her, grateful in every way that my wife Lynne and our other daughter Elizabeth [a.k.a. “the Giz,” or, among her more recent friends, “Liz”] have supported and encouraged us and have offered to “hold down the fort” in our absence, thankful that we are both healthy enough to consider it entirely possible, and positively overwhelmed by the amount of support those who know us and love us have given as this whole idea has materialized. We hope you will follow us across the country by checking in here often. We hope we’ll find a way to post updates at least every few days, with pictures, and stories, and impressions.

So I get to defer this immediate task Kate has put before me, this task of being “profound.” I can say with confidence that in the days ahead, as the dust settles on our preparations and is replaced by the dust we stir up peddling down the road, we will both be better able to formulate what this trip is about, what we hope to achieve and learn and bring home with us.

For now, the important thing seems to be this: support us, keep in touch, and spread the word. Support Kate’s desire to fundraise for the Jimmy Fund – it’s a wonderful organization and gives an immediate purpose to our trip, one we hope you will pitch in to help. We may well ride 4,000 miles before we’re through. At a penny a mile, that’s $40.00; at a dime a mile, $400.00. There’s a quarter a mile, or … well, you do the math … We’re aiming at a minimum of $100,000.00 if we can – that’s twenty five dollars a mile! Help us in any way you can, will you? Contribute what you can – and then email a link to this site to anybody else you think might be interested. Help us spread the word. We’re thinking it’s going to be quite an adventure!

But as importantly, please keep this in mind – it is the love and emotional support of every one of you that will be our real sustenance and the thing that will be as important a contribution to this trip as anything else you can offer. Keep us in our hearts. Share our adventures and our trials. Follow us on a map. Think about joining us for a few days or a week along the way [we mean that!]. Kate and I are off on a self-propelled adventure to see the country and to learn what we can. If I have my way, we’ll learn that the most important things in life are often not bought but earned, earned through kindness and generosity and perseverance and sharing and an open spirit aware of grace. We want you on the trip with us!

… and now, off to the income tax …
… as Corita Kent once said: “After ecstasy, the laundry.”
-Jim

F.A.Q.'s

When we tell people that we're getting ready to bike across the United States, we get a ton of questions, since there are so many details that go into planning a trip like this! We've included some of the most popular ones here (along with our answers), but please feel free to jot us a comment or e-mail with any additional questions or thoughts you may have!

"What route are you taking?"
This is one of the first questions people always ask, since there are, of course, infinitely many ways to make your way across the United States. We will be riding from the west coast back east, and on March 4th we're flying out to San Diego with all of our gear (just as a quick side note- it was so cool to buy a one-way plane ticket knowing that our return trip is by bike!). We'll stay in San Diego long enough to re-assemble and pack up our bikes, and then we'll dip our tires into the Pacific Ocean and start off! For the first part of the trip, we'll be following Adventure Cycling's "Southern Tier" route along the Mexican border, up to Phoenix, into New Mexico, and then crossing the Rockies at 8300 ft. before dipping down into El Paso and beginning our trek across Texas. Since we're starting our ride in late winter/early spring, we need to stay as far south as possible to avoid the snow and icy roads, especially in the mountains. Once we get through Texas, there are two options. Right now, we would love to think about riding home to Scituate, MA and ending our ride on Minot Beach a mile from our house, but we also have the option of continuing along the Southern Tier route and finishing in Florida. There are a lot of factors to take into consideration, so we're going to see how it goes and wait to make a decision until we're well into the trip. Either way, it's going to be an amazing journey, but we'll keep you updated!
To learn more about the Southern Tier route, visit: http://www.adv-cycling.org/routes/southerntier.cfm

"What kind of bikes will you be riding?"
Dad and I both bought new bikes for this trip. Since our bikes are our method of transportation and means of seeing the country, we needed to be sure that they'd be reliable and up to the task of crossing the continent. I had formerly been riding a mountain/road hybrid, and Dad... well, the last time he bought a bike was in college! Although we joked about what a good story it would be if he made it across the U.S. on his old bike, that was a big "if!" The bike we eventually decided on was the Trek 520, a sturdy bike designed for lengthy touring. We also thought it was important that we both had the same bike so we could share parts and tools. We bought the bikes (and most of our bike gear) at Belmont Wheelworks (http://www.wheelworks.com/), and we found the people there very helpful and knowledgable as we prepared for the trip this winter.
For more info about the 520, go to: http://www.trekbikes.com/bikes/2003/road/520.jsp

"How will you carry all of your 'stuff'?"
We will each be riding fully-loaded bikes as we cross the country, carrying our gear in panniers (packs that fasten over the front and rear wheels). This will allow us to be completely self-sufficient, but it also means that we've had to be attentive to how much we pack, since every ounce of extra weight is going to make it harder to bike up those mountains! "Where do you plan to stay at night?" When I came back from my NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School) course at the end of January, I was so excited about my experience in Baja, and camping suddenly became one of the things I'm looking forward to most on this trip. We're bringing a lightweight tent, cookware, sleeping bags, and enough food for us to cook many, if not most, of our own meals (now that I've learned how many amazing things can be made with just pancake mix and a spice kit!). Camping will give us more flexibility in terms of where we want to stop at the end of the day, and it will allow us to really get away from the big cities at times. However, we'll also be staying with friends and family a few nights along the way, and we plan to splurge on a B&B or hotel every once in a while when we're dying for a hot shower and soft mattress to soothe our tired muscles!

"Are you in shape?"
Nope. Dad says he hasn't really been training, but this is coming from the guy who spent his summer biking back and forth to his work 34 miles away... for fun. He spent the fall on our erg (stationary rowing machine) gearing up to be a member of the Sledgehammer Rowing Club in the C.R.A.S.H. B's world indoor rowing championships last week here in Boston (this is probably the only international athletic championship event that any old guy can jump into for nothing more than a $25 entry fee). I spent my fall eating French pastries in Paris. Luckily we were blessed with a period of warm weather when I got back from my NOLS course, so I was able to put some miles on the bike here in Scituate in February. Dad says I have youth on my side. We both figure that although those mountains out of San Diego will be pretty rough, by the time we reach Phoenix we'll be in pretty good shape ('more the machine and less the baggage' as Mom said the other day!) .

"How many miles do you plan to travel each day, and how long do you think the trip's going to take?"
The answer to this question is that we really can't say right now. My classmate Jenny and her father took about 2 months to cross the United States from San Diego, CA to St. Augustine, FL (a little over 3,000 miles) last spring. However, as I said earlier, our final destination on the east coast is still up in the air, and ending in Scituate would add quite a bit of mileage to our trip. There are also many other factors to take into consideration, among them weather, headwinds, fatigue, terrain/grade, and the number of days we take off to rest and explore. All of these factors will figure into our daily mileage and total time for the trip.