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Fun on the River...

Today was a lovely afternoon - after hitting up the "Hair Cuttery" (brilliant name!), Pamela & I met up with the crew for an afternoon of river fun: tireswing, swimming, wakeboarding behind Max's jetski, and as usual, a little guitar accompaniment. I'll be a little sad to leave here in the morning, but I'm excited to go to Gesundheit to do something productive. I've been doing waaay too much sleeping in here!
Tireswing + Potomac River = Happy

Soul Sisters

"Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River..." - actually, the Shenandoah's about 7 miles away... but close enough.

Pamela in perfect geometric form

Summer evenings...

Pamela's parents left today for 6 weeks in Chile (Papa Scorza is advising the Chilean government on GMO stuff), so last night we enjoyed a nice dinner with them. Carl came over and we had pizza and gorgonzola pear salad, then moved inside as it cooled off for some acoustic delight and a rousing game of "THINGS: Humour in a box", a game that has prompt cards such as "Things you would like to say to the Pope". You write down your answer on a slip of paper, pass it to the dealer, who reads them all out loud, and then the players have to guess whose response belongs to who. Among the best responses to the above question: "Guten morgan", "Does the pope sh*t in the woods?", and my personal favorite, "Suck it".

Good times with the river rafting crew...

Sunday night we went to a party at the Blue Ridge Outfitters, the river rafting business where Carl works with friends Max, Benny, Ty, and others. We sat around the bonfire with bluegrass blasting from the sound system, and played cards using an upside-down raft as a table (brilliant!).



Emma & me - Carl let me wear his new "party animal" hat, a steal at $1!


Ty, Emma, & me, playing cards


Pamela & Carl: ridiculously cute.

Wingman goes to Market...

Pamela took Wingman and I to the Farmers' market in Shepherdstown (where she lives) on Saturday. Shepherdstown itself is pretty darn cute... lots of colonial style storefronts. We opted for chocolate-covered strawberries rather than fresh produce... afterward, I bought some "HALT" dog-repellent in anticipation of upcoming riding adventures -- dogs, after all, are the scariest part of riding!

Flashback: Meeting up with friends in DC, May 22nd

Eli, me, Pamela, & her dear boyfriend Carl got together while R4WH was in town for some food and catching up. They're my buds from studying in Ecuador, minus Carl, who's my bud for being an awesome river rafting guide/bartender/musician in West Virginia.

LOVE WINS.

Sweetest bumper sticker ever.

Wingman does D.C.

I met an inspiring man named Jay - an angel, really - standing in front of the White House who asked to take my picture with his signs. I insisted Wingman be in the photo and we got to talking about Ride For World Health. His kind encouragement came at a moment I really needed it... I only had about 20 bucks and was nervous about getting to West Virginia, where my replacement ATM card was waiting at Pam's house. Nonetheless, the brief soul connection we had lifted my spirits. Please visit his blog about his 24/7 vigil in front of the White House until we take action in Darfur:

http://www.standwithdarfurwhitehouse.blogspot.com

We just need to show our congress people that we SUPPORT this kind of intervention and that we will stand behind them in the decision to SAVE DARFUR. Did you see "Hotel Rwanda"? Did your jaw drop at the inaction of those who had the resources to stop the genocide? This is happening right now. Let's wake up and do something.

Arrival at Bethany Beach -- May 23rd, 2006

we toasted champagne as we rode the last 3 miles, then enjoyed running into the ocean and cherishing that pinnacle moment...

PHOTOS!

Finally! I got my camera to download some photos to Pamela's computer. Here are some "catching up" photos - enjoy!

meanwhile, outside my summer bubble...

... the toll of HIV/AIDS keeps on keepin' on. Tonight I finished watching a Frontline special called "The Age of AIDS". Starting on Friday, you'll be able to watch the whole thing online... it does a great job of chronicling the emergence of the virus and the public response.

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/aids/cron/crontext.html

Also, we made it onto the Partners In Health webpage. Who took that awesome century photo they chose? Oooh, me :)

http://www.pih.org/Ride4WorldHealth-apr2006.html

"... oh I've seen pleasure, and I've seen pain ..."

Fireflies & Ropeswings...

...are a sure sign that summer has arrived. I'm in Sheperdstown, West Virginia right now, staying with my dear friend Pamela. We met while studying/volunteering together in Ecuador, and the good old days of interviewing indigenous tribal leaders about petroleum exploitation and fishing for piranha in the Amazon have been replaced by somewhat more domestic pleasures, entirely different but equally blissful.

(<-- us in Ecuador 2 years ago) Yesterday Pamela picked me up from a metro station in Maryland, where I sat waiting in the shade, sticky from the sweltering 95* heat (and, not realizing it actually WAS a million degrees out, feeling rather wimpy for not being tougher about the humidity). We slapped a bike rack on her car, loaded up Moby, and headed out of suburbia for the rolling green hills of West Virginia. Thank God. I admit I'd readjusted to being in the city, and there's a certain amount to be said for the opportunities one finds in the urban setting. Still, after so many miles of open country on this trip, I've realized how mmuch I just yearn to be outside in the unadulterated beauty, away from the chaos of the Concrete Jungle. Pam teaches a couple ballet classes a week to 3-5 year olds, and I went with her to nearby Charles Town to watch. How fascinating to see kids at an age where they have to concentrate so hard to make their bodies do what their minds want them to! It's been a while since I've seen such intent looks of concentration -- complete with furrowed brows and tongues sticking out at awkward angles -- and all to have 0.2 seconds of glory as each little girl attempted a flailing leap over a synthetic rose on the studio floor. Evening brought even more delight... we met up with Pamela's roommate Emma, boyfriend Carl, and Carl's friends from the river rafting company he works at, all outdoorsy types. Even though it was after 7, the heat was still rather stifling. We walked 2 miles up the C&O Canal path, glad for the shade of the dense trees lining both sides. Carl strummed on his guitar as we strolled, breathing in the sweetness of blossoming honeysuckle. Our destination: a choice ropeswing into the Potomac River. A friend had phoned Pamela earlier in the afternoon with the news that he'd been working on some improvements to the swing, namely a sturdy bamboo foothold so we wouldn't have to rely entirely upon upper body strength. Sure enough, when we arrived at the site, careful to avoid the poison ivy innocently edging the trail, there hung the most beautiful ropeswing I've ever laid eyes on. Though the river is a little low right now, the bank still dropped off swiftly to an adequate depth, and the swing hung from the upper branches of a tree that reached its limbs out over the slow current of the water.

If you're ballsy enough to want a go of it, there's not much of an option for backing out... though the limb you climb to get up to the swing isn't very steep, it's incredibly narrow, and arguably the most difficult part of the experience. Fortunately there are a few crossbars nailed into the tree (thank you Tree, and sorry). And the rest is history. We sailed out of the tree and cried with delight as we came plunging down (gracefully, or not) into the refreshing coolness of the river. As it got dark, Pam and I kicked it back to the days of Ecuador with a little skinny-dipping. Then we all dried out around a little fire the guys started up, wishing we had some marshmallows. By about 10 pm we were feeling hungry, so we headed back up the footpath to the canal trail, and fumbled our way through the cobwebs, fireflies leading the way. We don't have fireflies in the Northwest, and this was only the 3rd time I've seen them, so it was naturally a bit novel. Then again, life in general is pretty novel, these days...

Our evening ended with a late night BBQ up on the mountain where the raft guides live, watching rafting and surfing movies into the wee hours of morning, when finally the humidity spawned a torrential downpour and some crackling thunder and lightning. I fell asleep on the hide-a-bed to rain pattering on the patio. Oh Summer, I love you so.

How to have a grand debacle. Part First, and hopefully Last

For future reference, you cannot take a bicycle on MARC trains unless it is a folding one. Moby Dick [my bike] is many things; folding, he is not. Thus, on Wednesday after Wags & Em dropped Dan, Theresa, and me at BWI, the adventure began with denial at the ticket counter. Left with no other viable option, I used my U-lock and chain for the 1st time on the trip and left my brilliant white wonder locked up in the parking garage at the airport, then hopped on the train into DC and rode the Metro out to Bethesda, where the friend I'm staying with works.

I had left some luggage stowed away in a closet of the Metropolitan Methodist Church we stayed at Sunday and Monday so that I wouldn't be encumbered by it while executing the above portion of my trip. I had intended to go get my baggage Thursday am, but since I needed to retrieve Moby and my friend has a "real" job that requires her to be at work during the day, I spent the day getting my bike back to DC. I found a great bike route online and made my way back to the Greenbelt Metro Station. Unfortunately, I didn't make it to the station until 4:25, and bikes aren't allowed on the metro during peak hours: 4-7 pm. Luckily I'd had the foresight to look up the address of the closest REI, which was only 2 miles away, and I quickly passed the time there looking at tents, panniers, and other what-have-you. I talked to one of the employees for a long time about cycling ventures - he was a cool guy who wants to start his own non-profit to help a Bahamaian island he's been supporting. He hooked me up with some cycling maps for this region and also invited me to come hang out Friday night at the fire station (I guess he's a volunteer there). Sorry, Tom, but no. I don't date men over 40.

Needless to say, all that hassle prevented me from picking up my bags from the church on thursday. Thus, Friday around noon, I was a little worried to get the following e-mail forwarded to me from Ian:

"If you can contact Libby Left, one of the members of the team that recently
finished their trek to Washington, DC, and let her know that she left a
duffle bag, mat and bikes parts in one of our storage closets. We are not
aware of any arrangements to store these items here. Thankfully we found
them and someone knew to ask before disposing of these valuable items.
Please advise her that they are now in the church business office."

Yikes! I called the church and told them I was on my way. And by "on my way", I meant "I'll have to ride my bike 2 miles to the nearest metro, take it 40 minutes to the stop, ride a mile to the church, and then I'll be there!" Time constraint: 5 pm office closure, 4 pm metro ban on bikes. Time of arrival at the church: 3:42 pm. The office people were actually really nice and in response my profuse apologies for the trouble said it really was no trouble at all, they were just worried I needed my gear. Both of them looked at me quizically when I said I'd be taking it all back to the metro on my bike. The plan was to balance my duffel bag, sleeping bag and thermarest on the bar of my bike to take some of the wieght off my shoulder, and wheel back to the station. I was feeling a little stressed about getting there before 4 pm. Certainly hauling a bunch of gear for a mile is less than ideal, but it reminded me of the lengths to which we are willing to go when we don't have the normal amenities (like a car, for example). And fortunately, the church handyman said he'd give me a ride over there in the big ole church van (like the Silver Bullet and White Van, but older). I at least feigned a polite decline, even though internally I was jumping for joy. He again insisted. I agreed. And, by the time I got back up to Wheaton, 40 minutes away, my dear Ana was home from work, so she did me the kind courtesy of meeting me at the station to pick up my gear, and I cycled the 2 miles back home.

I really should go to bed, but the distraction of being around a computer with internet access is so great that I've been sucked into the vortex. Suffice it to say, I'm done with luggage and public transport. Tomorrow I'm trimming down my belongings and shipping the remainder home.

Tuesday, April 23rd. ATLANTIC OCEAN.

The crankiness of Sunday's arrival into the stimulus of a busy civilization was washed away by the Atlantic Ocean on Tuesday. We loaded up everything and headed out of the city. Though we'd originally planned to ride 75 miles or so to reach Bethany Beach, Delaware, we came to a consensus that we'd rather shorten the ride and have more time to celebrate at the beach before nightfall.

We unloaded the bikes just outside Delaware for one last 35 mile hurrah. Oh friends, how far we've come since the days of struggling up Nevada mountains! We cruised along the wide shoulder (Delaware DOT, we love you!) in pairs or threes, chatting in the sunny early afternoon sun. To ride together one last time -our legs thanked us, our hearts cried out in rebellion. Bittersweet.

In Ocean View, a small town 3 miles from Bethany Beach, we all stopped to regroup. The support team, who'd gone ahead to set up lunch, rode their bikes westward (counter-intuitive to us at this point), and met us at the grocery store. Mark and Suchocki picked up 2 bottles of champagne at the liqueria across the street, and the mouth of my water bottle for the first time tasted sweet bubbly brut instead of the powdered endurance drink to which it has become so accustomed.

Regulators, mount up. We did, and rode the last 3 miles we'll ever ride as R4WH 2006. Sometimes you can be excited about something with your words, yet still not have the physical manifestation of excitement surge through your body. Though my spirits were high, it wasn't until about a mile away from the water that I suddenly felt that ripple of emotion pass through me. A couple shoulder-shaking sobs of joy, then the return to a more muted bliss, smiling as I looked around at my friends, toasting each other as we rode side-by-side to our final destination. We laughed in disbelief when we reached the boardwalk and saw the vast blue-grey expanse of sea. Miles and miles of road under us, and now left with no more land to traverse.

I still get shoulder-shaking sobs, now with a little less joy and a lot more missing-people-I-love. In the backseat of the van as we pull away from the kids headed back to Columbus ... on the subway in DC, I look around embarrassed and glad no one notices ... as I sit in my friend's apartment, writing this. Oh, dear friends. I miss you. Thanks to all the friends, family, and strangers who've supported us on this grand journey. We shall not soon forget it.

Arrival at the carnival... err, Capitol.

I should probably not be listening to wistful acoustic music as I write this, given my propensity to be ridiculously emotional, but too bad. Amos Lee will keep rocking.

Sunday the 21st we finally arrived in DC. Emily and I were driving the support car ahead of the riders to the church that was hosting us, and as we entered the city, I didn't feel the exhilaration I was expecting (this comes later); instead I felt claustrophobic, harried, and cranky. Other cars kept honking for no reason and suddenly I identified with all the patients back in Seattle who were intimidated by the experience of driving into the metropolis. Where are the open roads of Nevada and Kansas when you need them?

Sunday evening we attended a Candlelight AIDS vigil, and I got to deliver some "remarks" at the ceremony, a fun opportunity to talk to a lively crowd, though the occassion which brought us there was serious.

Monday morning was one of my favorite experiences on the trip - Deirdre, Heather, and I went to Christ House, a facility that acts as temporary housing and nursing services for homeless people who have been discharged from the hospital but continue to require medical attention. Without reliable housing and employment, their recovery would otherwise be complicated. The typical stay lasts no longer than 4-6 weeks. Christ House gave off such a positive energy - it was clean but didn't have that sterile and institutionalized feeling one often gets in that type of setting. About 10 or 12 of the guys staying there joined the 3 of us R4WH ladies for a slideshow of our journey, and they had lots of questions about their health that really demonstrated they'd put some thought into what was going on with their bodies. One younger guy had even perused a book on herbal supplements for the liver at Whole Foods. It was awesome to have candid discussion on how their limited resources impact the health choices they're able to make. We also showed the PIH video. Deirdre observed several of the men crying, one of them a man from Haiti who'd be returning to his family on the island in a week. Charles, a 40-something African American with both his legs in casts, shared with us that the values of "patience, courage, and love" in the video reminded him of his priorities. It was moving and fun, all at once.

We also had some other events at Howard University on Monday, and a lot of us enjoyed talking to the med students there, many of whom are from African-origin countries like Nigeria and Kenya. I hope some of them choose to do R4WH their 4th year, particularly since they have a lot of insight into the issues of poverty that PIH and R4WH are seeking to address.

Telluride, Colorado - Mountain Country!!

It's hard to sum up the last week - every day feels like about 6 weeks, and I have trouble remembering the details of the previous day, even down to where we slept last night. Today it's easy, because we have a rest day here in Telluride, so it's still Telluride :)

Southern Utah was so much more than I'd ever expected. The awe-inspiring red canyons made us feel like we could cycle forever. Well, almost forever, anyway. We had an amazing time in the town of Boulder, Utah, where we all got to go home with families for our first "homestay experience". Jim, Megan, Alyssa, & I stayed with Mike Nelson, one of the park rangers from the Anasazi Museum. We got to ride his Arabian mare, rode in the back of his truck to see the incredible house he's been building for the last year, and had a really enjoyable time hanging out with him, appreciating sitting on couches instead of our bike seats. When his wife Laura and 3 year old son Zach got back from visiting family in Salt Lake City later that evening, we got a kick out of having Zach show off for us, racing around the house pantless with his new light saber. I even got to help give him his bath. It was really nice to break away from whole group for a little while to get to know some members of a community. Particularly Boulder- all the people we met were incredible!

There's so much to say about Utah beauty, but I'll leave it for the pictures. 2 or 3 days ago we finally made it to Colorado, after the most frigid headwind EVER leaving Blanding, UT. I wanted to cry, it was so miserably cold. But, we made it after all, and were warmly welcomed to the quaint town of Dolores, CO (pop. ~700) by Our Lady of Victory Catholic Church, who put on a marvelous pasta dinner for us. And, I might guiltily add that we double-dipped that evening; a friend of one of the other riders invited us to the Dolores Brewery for oven-fired pizza and and open beer tab. That was also mighty enjoyable.

The next morning (yesterday, Weds. 4-19) we saddled up for the 65 mile uphill battle into the Rockies to the ski resort town of Telluride. It wasn't as steep as we expected - in fact it was a pretty do-able grade such that we barely even noticed we were going up as we wound alongside the Dolores river. Only the increasing amount of snowfall on the roadside and the difficult breathing at altitude tipped us off to the climb. We summitted Lizard Head Pass at 10,222 feet - our highest yet. But not for long... in a couple of days we'll be going over Monarch Pass, which I think is about 11,300. Whew.

Telluride is a fun mountain town and its liberal inhabitants stand in stark contrast to some of the communities we stayed in through Utah. We were on the front page of the daily paper here, as well as on the radio, and there have been several lectures today - some of our riders talked to local middle schoolers about HIV/AIDS, while this evening Karen and Thomas are giving the Global Health 101 lecture here at the public library.

This is such a fun way to see the country. If you haven't checked out our video blogs yet, you should, if for no other reason than to get a feel for the stunning landscape of Utah.

Much love,
Libby

Photos from Nevada

Erin Maynard and I are ecstatic to be done with this 3000 foot climb!

Pony Express gas? We WERE on the original PE route, but my fuel for the night was a veggie burger. Mmmm.

Sunset over Middlegate Station.

Katie & I waiting at another R4WH roadside cafe :)

I left my heart with this cowboy at the Old Middlegate Station in Nevada...

Ahoy from Cedar City, Utah

They call Highway 50 the "Loneliest Road in America". It's true, and it was awesome to bike with barely any traffic - probably about 10 or 15 cars all day! Nevada is much more mountainous than I ever realized, and while we were in the state we had between 2 and 4 climbs each day. By climbs, I mean mountain passes - the kind where you get to the top and there's a green summit sign featuring the elevation. As a biker, I've never been so relieved to see green :) It's hard to believe that we started out at sea level in San Fran and we've been going over passes with up to 7700 feet in elevation. I think the biggest climb we've had so far was about 3000 feet in 20 miles. That qualified as Category I for the Tour de France, which is the toughest category besides the "hors", which is just insane. It's really empowering to get to the top of a 10 mile uphill and realize you've accomplish something most people would write off as impossible.

Better yet are the sweeping descents that usually follow the climbs. On the stretch from Eureka to Baker a few days ago, I actually started crying while flying down a mountain at about 40 mph, greeted by a huge open valley and another range of mountains ahead. It was breathtaking, and my favorite day of riding thus far, in part because once we got into the valley, we had an incredible tailwind that kept us pumping along. After another challenging climb following lunch, we went to the Great Basin National Park for a tour of the Lehman caves, which was way cooler than I anticipated. The stalactites and stalagmites where incredible and we had fun clowning around in the back-lit passages.

Once we got settled in Baker, population ~300, the town had a potluck for us at the town hall where we were sleeping (as usual, on our thermarests and sleeping bags - it's funny how you adapt so quickly to this lifestyle). My friend Mark (med student from Kansas) and I were sitting with these 2 elderly sisters who've been part of the community for quite a while and they were a kick in the pants to chat with. The homemade food was a huge bonus, too :) Andrew Suchocki presented our Global Health 101 lecture (I gave the same one last week to a high school in Fallon)

After dinner, some of us split off with different members of the community: some folks went to shower and have homebrew with Loren, our awesome park service ranger who led the cave tour. I had the incredible fortune of walking with 4 of the guys to check out the home of a woman named Laurie Crookshank. I knew Laurie seemed interesting from the moment she walked into the town hall because she looked like the mountaineering type: beanie, hiking pants and boots, and fleece jacket. In contrast to the flannel and viking-horn hats of some of the other community members (I'm not kidding), she stuck out. Turns out Laurie built herself an underground adobe house with a Hogan roof adapted from the Native Americans - with her own two hands. From the wood beams of the ceiling, hand cut and dragged down from the mountain, to the composting toilet set in her plastered floor, to the carefully placed abalone shells that acted as candlelight-reflecting wall sconces, every inch of her house was created with the utmost intention of simplicity and self-sustainability. The 5 of us riders sat crosslegged in her round one-room abode, listening to her tell of how she came to live in Baker as the moonlight filtered in through the salvaged french doors and gently illuminated the white-washed adobe floor. Eventually she pulled out her handmade didgeridoo (of pvc and epoxy putty), and got us practicing on that while she picked some incredible tunes on her 10-string (12-string minus 2 broken) guitar and I played the little bongo she had. Laurie said to us, "here's an easy song you can sing as you're going over the mountains", and lifted her melodic voice with the lyrics "This too shall pass..."
What an incredible night.

Then next day (Monday) was my group's day to run support, so my legs got a break from climbing and I helped with cooking and sag wagon all day. We made the transition into Utah about 7 miles out of Baker, and after the riders tackled two horrendous climbs, we set up camp at the top of Frisco Pass near an old mining ghost town. Paul made incredible vegetarian fajitas and we all huddled in a tight pack to keep us warm from the wind ravaging the mountaintop. There we stood under the tarp we'd strung between the roof racks of the 2 vans, listening to Deathcab for Cutie and making jokes over a couple beers in our little penguin huddle. I haven't laughed so hard and so non-stop for so long, and we all had aching bellies. Deirdre and I shared a tent and shared her headphones as we drifted off to sleep in our cozy REI Halfdome.

The next morning (yesterday), Thomas woke us up at daybreak honking the van horn and we reluctantly crawled out from the warmth of our tents, slipped into frigid spandex and biked down the mountain. It was a quick descent into the little town of Milford, where we broke out of our usual routine by stopping for a cooked breakfast at a cute little 50's style diner. I must say, there are some impressive appetites on this trip :) The rest of the day was probably the most grueling and unpleasant we've had since the torrential downpours of California, because despite the lovely scenery of Utah, we faced the most atrocious headwind thus far. It was unrelenting as we climbed a 10 mile pass, and even once we got over the hump, it kept beating us back for the remainder of the day, which was short in mileage (65) but took forevvvvvvvvver. Once we finally got all cleaned up here in Cedar City, we hit the town for some tasty Mexican food and karaoke. More laughing, more bellyaches, and more getting to know these fine people. I feel so blessed to be having this adventure and already am dreading re-entry into the normalcy of life. I'm actually thinking of just spending the rest of my life travelling around on a bike... once I figure out how to beat saddlesores, that is ;)

Today is our rest day so I'm at the Southern Utah University library getting a sense of what's been going on in the rest of the world and updating this. Mark's giving a lecture on access to healthcare in the Student Union Bldg in about 5 minutes, so I'm off to support him for that, but thanks for all the continued support. I'm safe and healthy and having an incredible time. Much love hasta la proxima...

Achieving goals

I realize I just posted a blog about 2 minutes ago - I had to cut it off because the library does things in 30 minute stints, but I wanted to mention a couple things about dreaming. A year ago, I never imagined I'd be biking across the country with a bunch of charged, passionate, outdoorsy people. 6 months ago, after I'd been selected as one of the riders, I thought to myself that I'd like to raise DOUBLE the amount required of every rider;$5000 rather than $2500. The thing about setting goals that limits us is fear of failure. I felt like it'd be embarrassing or disappointing in some way if I made clear to everyone that 5000 bucks was my goal and then fell short, so it's something I've kept inside. But yesterday changed my mind. Climbing up the mountains was the most stress I've put on my body in a long time. At times it was so difficult to get my legs to respond and to do what I needed them to that I worried I'd just tip off the road into the raging flooded river beside it. Nevertheless, the higher I climbed, the more badly I wanted the finish.

I feel the same way about raising money for Partners in Health. They are acheiving what countless experts have disregarded as impossible: providing the highest quality of medical care we can to those who most need it. $5000 seemed impossible to me in January, but our Finance Chair updated me yesterday with the great news that over $4000 have now come in. So I'm going public: $5000. We can do this. Game on.

DAY TWO: from Sacramento to Carson City

I'm at the Carson City public library right now using the web, but unfortunately they won't let me put any of my photos onto the computer, so that'll have to wait for Cedar City, UT. Here are some highlights of Day 2:
- getting a police escort through downtown Sacramento to help us find the American River Trail
- getting on the trail, only to find that a section of it was flooded due to the record rainfall in CA this month, then FORGING the flooded part by carrying our bikes through the water, which came up to my knees. We all had water squishing in our cycling shoes the rest of the day, which really didn't matter since it rained all day
- saw a deer, some wild turkeys, and roadkilled skunk
- the most challenging athletic endeavor probably thus far in my life: the first 30 miles of our day to rest stop #1 were more or less flat and traffic-less bike trail. The next 25 were climbing 1000 feet elevation up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Any CITs reading this? Remember the infamous "4 mile hill" and "Big Bertha" from our bike trip? I'd have to say 25 miles of mostly climbing was slightly more challenging :) Several people, chilled and tired, opted for the sag wagon, but finishing that difficult leg was something I really wanted to do and with the awesome encouragement of the support team tailing me, I finally made it to our "lunch" stop at 5 pm. After 4 hours of climbing in the pouring rain, hot tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches have never been more satisfying :)
- We had to forego the last part of our route for the day due to time constraints and inclement weather - namely, a huge snowstorm in the Sierras that forced us to chain up the vans going over the passes near Lake Tahoe. Things are great, and I'll write again soon!