Sorry for the anti-climax

I have to admit that I got a little caught up in all the friend-and-family visiting at the end of my journey and failed miserably to update the blog and explain how everything panned out in the end. While this probably comes as no surprise to anyone who read my sporadic posts over the last year, I feel compelled to document the last few weeks of my trip (at least as much as my hazy, faded memory will allow me to). If this doesn't interest you and you'd rather read about my difficulties re-adjusting to a life where I'm a contributing (and stationary) member of society, bear with me a week or two.
The last entry had me arriving in Akron, Ohio. Most of my extended family on my mother's side calls Akron home so needless to say I was well accommodated and catered to. Ohio in July is not the most pleasant riding weather but I was fortunate enough to find a route which lead me into town along an old canal; though the temperature was unpleasant the scenery was at least verdant and enjoyable. I rolled up to Grandma Paulette's house and after a quick shower was whisked off for some drinks and food with my aunts and their friends at a swanky restaurant called Ken Stewart's. Both of my aunts work for Clinique cosmetics and most of their friends are involved in beauty/retail; obviously I felt a bit funny (or awesome) crashing a "girls' night out" of attractive retail ladies. After a few appetizers at Ken Stewart's I walked across the street to meet up with Gamma P and my two young cousins for some delicious Chinese food. At this point I was feeling pretty stuffed and was grateful when we finally retired to the Kapper's house.
Upon arriving at the Kapper household Uncle Chris (or half-uncle ?...more on that later) gave me a warm welcome and told me he had stocked the fridge in preparation. I reluctantly (not really) got a cold beer and we all sat about on the porch catching up and talking about all sorts of things. Cousin Charles was present with plenty of witty insights as well. The next few days were filled with similar back-porch music (Chris has the most astounding music collection I have ever seen) and conversation sessions interspersed with watching Charles play Halo and making some great meatballs with Grandma. Cousin Francis and I made an attempt at going to the pool one day but gray skies and drizzle made the outing a pretty dull affair and we gave up after only about an hour. At one point as the Kapper family and I were driving back from downtown Akron (after having just seen a totally rockin' Moody Blues cover band) we got into the aforementioned discussion of half-relatives. I'm still pretty sure I'm correct on this one, but feel free to inform me otherwise. If you get married, what is your relation to your spouse's sibling's spouse? I'm pretty sure its absolutely nothing, not even technically an in-law. Upon my decreeing this Uncle Chris concluded that he could not possibly be more than my half-Uncle. It's all a bit too confusing.
After one more entertaining evening with the family I hit the road on a muggy gray morning and pedaled towards Pennsylvania, rain threatening at my back.

Chi-town to A-squared

I left Chicago by the pleasant Lakeshore Trail which continued on through South Chicago and into Indiana. The heat and humidity was as bad as in Laos; so much for any cooling lake breeze! I arrived to the town of Michigan City as dusk fell and found a small plot of trees between a bank and supermarket. Being completely soaked in sweat and having no idea what would be farther up the shore I opted to stay put. Changing clothes was a moot point due to the temperatures being in the 90s even after the sun had set. Instead I stripped down, set up the hammock and laid down to try and stop sweating. This proved to be a faulty plan for two reasons. For one, I was so dirty and sweaty that I was never going to be able to get comfortable. Secondly, without any clothes on (and being right next to some sort of irrigation pond) the mosquitoes were absolutely devouring me. Slathering on bug spray and laying in the stifling hammock just exacerbated the heat and mugginess. At one point the bank's sprinkler system went off and I took the opportunity to have a hobo-shower. I figured if I rinsed clean I could finally cool down. Instead I just resumed sweating and had to break out the bug juice again.
The next day I awoke to more unrelenting heat and parted ways with the shore as I headed inland into Michigan. That evening I was rolling into Three Rivers as some particularly nasty looking storm clouds gathered on the horizon. For whatever reason I had assumed I was in for nothing but blazing heat and had stopped checking weather reports. I bought a Big Gulp at a gas station and pedaled over to a nearby park to wait the storm out under a picnic shelter. It was only about 6 PM so I had hoped to put in another 20 or 30 miles before finding a spot for the night. As the first drops started coming down and peals of thunder rumbled out my phone rang. Sarah, my Ann Arbor hostess, was on the other end. She seemed concerned (and rightly so) that I would be brash enough to try and ride through this storm. Unlike myself, she had looked at the weather radar and saw what I was in for. Having known me for a few years now she wasn't surprised by my bravery (although I think she referred to it as "stupidity") but she volunteered to make the 2 hour car trip and pick me up. Like two heaven sent guardians, her and Meg arrived during a lull in the storm and whisked myself and my trusty steel steed to Ann Arbor. Thank goodness they did because the front of storms rolling through all evening were much more violent than I had expected. It certainly would have been some miserable riding, if not downright unsafe. Back at Sarah's place I washed the day away, donned some clean clothes and promptly passed out.
Saturday morning Sarah went to work at a nearby farm but was sent home early because of more threatening storms. We spent the morning walking through the Art Festival that was setup downtown and met up with Meg to peruse the farmer's market. We found some nice eggplants which gave me the irresistible temptation to craft some eggplant parmesan. That culinary feat had to wait as Meg headed off to Detroit for a Tigers game while Sarah and I opted to go to an excellent draft house nearby, Ashley's. Extensive polling of the bar patrons led to the conclusion that although my beard was epic and impressed all the dudes, the fairer sex insisted that it was in my best interest to shave it. I was thoroughly persuaded but still had strong doubts about placing my beloved beard under the clippers. We agreed to postpone the beard trimming and called it a night.
I awoke to be greeted by considerably sunnier weather. We took the opportunity to hike along the Huron River up to a dammed section. As we laid back on a dock to soak up the sunshine some comic relief was provided by a group of young people attempting to portage. Afterwards we gathered a few key ingredients and I meticulously labored on the aforementioned eggplant. I'm getting pretty good at this recipe so if you house this hobo you may want to request it! After dinner the girls and I mustered our courage and made battle with the beard. I have to admit, I had forgotten just how damn handsome (damnsome?) I am.
One last Ann Arbor activity that I got a big kick out of was playing "Balderdash" at a dinner party a night or two before I left. The game is very simple, pretty challenging and extremely fun. One person picks a word from the dictionary and writes the definition on a slip of paper. After all the other players write down their "definitions" all the slips are read out loud and each person votes for the definition they believe is true. Hilarity ensues and points are awarded for correct guesses and/or number of people hoodwinked. Do you know what "pip" or "variola" means? Get your mind out of the gutter...
Finally I tore myself off of Sarah's couch and out of Ann Arbor. Once again rails-to-trails projects helped make a boring ride a little more bearable. Within two days I had covered 180 miles and wound up in my grandmother's backyard in Akron, Ohio. Coming soon: Akron, Johnstown and the luxurious Custer Ranch!

(Hot) Dog Days of Summer

Goodness, my jokes are great. I was recently speaking with a friend on the phone and upon hearing that I was in Pennsylvania she had the same reaction as many folks. She thought I was still in Colorado (or more outrageous, California). I informed her that it had been more than a month since we spoke and at that point I was indeed in Colorado. I'll cut Stacy a break on this; I'm sure time passes more quickly for all you folks with real-world responsibilities. In addition, getting from Colorado to Pennsylvania by bicycle in a mere month would be quite the feat. Herein lies my dirty little secret: catching one big lift and a few shorter ones.
Before anyone screams blasphemy allow me to explain. Riding the bike from Denver to Chicago would have been about 1200 miles. With a conservative estimate of about 70 miles per day this would take me about two and a half weeks. Now, as much as the scenery of eastern Colorado, Nebraska and Iowa tantalizes the senses, I felt it would be kind of silly to blow my budget and arrive back east without enough money to visit all my friends and family. So how did I close the distance?
The magic of Craigslist! With an ad out on Denver Craigslist I was soon contacted by a young lady, Jayme, headed to eastern Iowa. A grueling overnight non-stop drive delivered us to Sabula, Iowa where Jayme's father owns a really neat art-gallery/wood-fired pizza shop. If you're ever in Sabula be sure to stop in Bombfire Pizza for one of the best pies on the Mississipi. After Jayme's father treated me to some culinary samples (and a hefeweizen or two to match) I headed off to hunt a swimming hole. I eventually gave up and opted for a snooze on a shady bank. Although I hadn't actually done any driving (my license expired while abroad), I was awake the whole night to entertain Jayme and our other passenger/driver. No sleep + pizza + beer + outrageous heat = complete zonk-out. I finally awoke around 2 or 3 PM and rode my bicycle over the mighty Mississipi for the second time ever. Forty five miles later I arrived in Mount Morris, Illinois. The sight of my loaded bike drew some attention. After a little conversation and some trail magic I found myself being whisked away to spend the night with a young couple who were big fans of RAGBRAI, the annual mass party/bicycle ride across Iowa. Time and time again I'm amazed by the hospitality of strangers and this instance was certainly no exception. A huge bacon and egg breakfast fueled me up and I set out into the already blazing, muggy weather. The dull scenery (who wants more cornfields? Yay!) and oppressive heat made for a rather tedious ride but I found some nice rails-to-trails paths to cruise nearly into the heart of Chicago.
I pushed myself to finish the 97 mile ride and arrive in Chi-town around 9:30 at night. Riding through unknown neighborhoods of Chicago at 9 PM on a Friday is a novel experience but I don't think I'd repeat it anytime soon. I'm thinking my gigantic, bushy beard (or wonderful natural musk) prevented any criminals from even looking at me twice. As one might imagine, I was pretty exhausted when I arrived at Rob and Jenelle's apartment. My frustration and disappointment was off the charts when I found out Jenelle was at a bachelorette party and Rob was still at the Pitchfork Music Festival. I sat down outside their fence and twiddled my thumbs for about an hour, sending text messages back and forth until Jenelle finally asked "Well, where are you in Chicago?". I thought that I had made it clear I was directly in front of her house.
"Oh, why don't you just go in? My friends are there...sorry, the door bell is broken." Goodness gracious. If I didn't love the girl so much I could have strangled her right through the phone. I took a shower, put on some fresh duds (although at this point everything I own would make a homeless person blush) and upon Rob's return we headed out to sample the nightlife. The great thing about my arrival in Chicago coinciding with Pitchfork was that my good buddies Mike and Cary were also in town. The next few days were spent catching up with old friends and visiting a list of Chicago's fine establishments (courtesy of Matt Kelly over at pedalpanam). The highlights, for any curious or Chicago-bound readers, were Hot Doug's, Kuma's Corner, Oasis Grill, Map Room and Aliveone. Hot Doug's is a famous hot dog joint with inventive specialties such as a duck sausage topped with foie gras or a goat chorizo smothered in an artisnal soft cheese. Of course one can't leave Hot Doug's without also ordering the classic "Chicago style" dog which is quite a bargain at about 2 or 3 bucks. Kuma's Corner is another Chicago landmark and gastronomic delight which often has a (justifiably) long wait. Kuma's crafts some of the most creative burgers in the US named after heavy metal bands and accompanied by the appropriate ear-splitting music. I visited Kuma's along with Chapel Hill chums Liz and Richard. It was a real treat to catch Richard while he was in town since I had not seen him much since he was kicked out of his Peace Corps position in Madagascar due to a coup. Being an avid cyclist himself we paired up the following day to cruise the city's sights by bike. I also poked my head into the obscure Oasis Grill. Tucked away into the back of a downtown jeweler's mall, Oasis is the type of place I could never find without the insider advice provided by Mr. Kelly. They serve some of the tastiest (and budget!) Mediterranean cuisine I've ever had. The last two places worthy of a Hobo-recommendation were the two bars Map Room and Aliveone. Map Room is just my sort of place; low key music, shelves stuffed with books, maps and encyclopedias and an astounding selection of beers. Aliveone also earned a special place in my heart with a mind-blowing all-drafts $2 special which is particularly hard to believe in a city with prices like Chicago.
With my belly nearly dragging on the ground from all the tasty treats and frosty brews I finally hit the Lakeshore Trail and headed out of the Windy City. Up next, the (not so) exciting ride to Ann Arbor including my rescue by a pair of guardian angels and onwards to Akron!

Introduction to my last month

I'm sure all of you loyal Hobo-readers out there are very concerned after I seem to have dropped off the face of this fine planet the last month or so. Fear not, for the Hobo is alive and thriving; a little behind on his blogging but doing well nonetheless. The truth is the riding (when it actually occurs) has been pretty uneventful and dull (see photos for evidence) and although I've had a blast in the cities I've visited, I felt that reading about my over-indulgences and gluttony would be a little tedious for you folks. In any case, my grandfather pointed out just how long it had been since an update. This observation coupled with my overwhelming guilt has inspired me to attempt a summary of the last month. Due to the volume of undiscussed goings-on I'll be breaking this into three entries: Denver to Chicago, onwards to Ann Arbor and then from leaving Ann Arbor to the arrival in Johnstown (including the blast from the past known as Akron). If you are bored and uninterested in one section feel free to wait (and most likely wait you will!) for the next installation. I'll let this introductory entry marinate on here for a day or so before the first section, just to tease my adoring audience and build your appetites for the juicy stories to come. Also I need more time to write! Hang in there and tune in tomorrow or so.

Out of the climbs, into the heat!

A huge thanks has to go out to Jesse of Fraser for putting me up for a night and showing me the route for one of the most enjoyable days of riding I had in a looooong time. Jesse is a long-time friend of my buddy TK so I stopped in to meet the man and assess as to whether he was "good people" as Tyler had claimed. Jesse and his family were indeed good people. In fact I dare venture to call them great, even fabulous, people. The pass that Jesse showed me was a gravel road in great condition with virtually no traffic and beautiful views. It dropped me right above Silverthorne where I promptly called my next acquaintance, Mr. Matthew Buglione.
Matt and I had been pals way back when. Really far back. Like 17 years or something, when I was but a wee lad in upstate New York and my world travels consisted of the creek in the woods down back. Matt was living in Vail for the summer and although a recent mountain biking injury had put him out of commission a bit, he swung down to Dillon Lake Marina. We shared a couple beers and began the massive task of catching up on eachothers' lives. Before too long we decided to load my bike in his car and head back to Vail. The combination of his injury and having drank a few beers allowed Matt to convince his friend Danny to chauffeur us. Back in Vail we attempted to go see a live concert but I basically decided sitting on the river bank was more pleasant than any further movement that evening.
The next day Matt and I caught up a bit more and awaited the arrival of Besselman. Once the Bess had landed we enjoyed some pizza and World Cup before once again loading the bike onto another vehicle. Erik and I parted ways with Matt and headed south over the mountains towards Salida. We passed through Leadville and started descend alongside the Arkansas River. As the somber clouds above tore open and unleashed torrents of rain and bolts of lightning I thanked my lucky stars; I was dry and moving along at 60 MPH instead of soaked and going 15! Bess and I arrived at his trailer (seriously, he lives in a doublewide...he wanted all of our mutual friends to take note). We grilled up quite the feast with his roommate Mike and watched a couple of interesting films from the library. If you've never seen the Iranian (?) movie "The Cyclist"...well, don't bother probably, hahaha. "His name is Nasim, or the Breeze. But today he is more like a typhoon". We all soon slipped into a food coma but awoke rested and ready to attack the river. After a few strategical mistakes we finally launched onto the river at about 330 PM...just in time for the afternoon thunderstorms. The dismal weather cast a strange pall on the river, lending it a very remote, northwestern feel. I guess it doesn't matter whether its raining or not when you're whitewater rafting; it only changes the direction from which you're getting wet at any given moment. Mike, Erik and I had a good time running the limited rapids that were present in Brown's Canyon (pretty low flow had changed things quite a bit from what the guys told me). We feasted for the second night in a row and watched another strange foreign film, albeit a much better one- "Persepolis".
Friday Erik frustrated me by waking me up far far too early (8am). He gathered the river gear while I gathered my head and we struck out to meet his friend Michelle further up the river. The rapids we ran on Friday were much more exciting (and dangerous!) but with the Bess's expert guidance I knew we would have no problems conquering the mighty Arkansas. Michelle was kind enough to lend us one of her boats; a nifty 10-footer just big enough for 2 paddlers but super agile and fun. Meanwhile she plied the waters on her high-and-somewhat-dry catamaran. After we ran "The Numbers" (a series of 7 rapids with varying difficulties and strategies) we all indulged in the delicious burgers, fries and shakes of Kay's (I think...) in Buena Vista. Michelle told me if I came over and helped her with a painting project the next day she could help me with some funds for the trip.
I spent most of Saturday painting linseed oil onto a fence at Michelle's house. Much to my chagrin I was missing the Colorado Brewer's Rendezvous in the main Salida river front park. However, on second thought, without the opportunity to make some money there was no way I would have paid the 10 bucks to get into the brewfest anyways. As is often the case in my adventures, fortune smiled upon me. Michelle more than justly compensated me for my work and with a big grin I wandered around downtown waiting for Erik to get off of his river patrol shift. As I wandered about a young man approached me for directions to a nearby store. I gave him a lift on the bicycle and in return he invited me to the brewers' after-celebration. He just happened to be representing one of the breweries! I had a couple of cold ones until Erik got off work at which point we moseyed over to some of his friends' house for a little BBQ chicken. All-in-all a solid day for the hobo!
Sunday I began the 150 mile trek to Denver. That first day found me very hungry and a little chilled in the high-altitude town of Fairplay. Fairplay is semi-famous for being the original "South Park" Colorado. Had a good evening chatting with George, a cyclist from Denver out for a 8 day loop. The next ride was nearly 90 miles through lots of hills and increasing heat as I dropped down towards Denver. On my second pass of the day I met two off-road tourists from Denver who told me a crucial route update. Instead of following 285 into Denver I was to take a back way through Deer Creek Canyon. It was absolutely amazing. A small bit of work climbing led to a huge payoff as I spent nearly an hour descending the canyon.
I arrived in Denver all smiles only to be worn down by the realization that I was merely on the outskirts and had 20 miles of suburban sprawl to navigate. Cities are always a big challenge- both getting in and out. The sun nearly melted me as I fought my way up the greenway. Eventually I persevered and found my way to Sarah's house considerably more centered in the city.
For the past two days I've been pretty useless. Mainly catching up on the Tour de France and trying to do some planning/budgeting. Tomorrow evening I am catching a car ride (I know, I'm such a cheater) that will put me within 3 days easy ride to Chicago where I plan to spend at least two or three days checking out the Windy City. I'll drop you a line from there hopefully. Try not to melt in the meantime!

Happy Birthday America!

234 fabulous years! Wow...it was a good run while it lasted. Hopefully we can keep it up a bit longer. Anyways I hope all my readers out there had a great celebration (assuming you are American or a big fan); I know I sure did. Allow me to fill you in.
As I last left you I was leaving Burley, Idaho and heading south towards Salt Lake City. My route options were limited to taking the old highway 30 or the new interstate 84. In the interest hitching a ride and being able to spend more time with my friends I opted to stick to the more heavily trafficked interstate (even though I hate riding on such busy roads). I was just about to give up and take my next (and only) exit to get back on 30 when my saving grace appeared in the form of a Washingtonian named David. He was headed down to Telluride to try his hand at the mountain-bum lifestyle for the summer. We had a great time talking about college, travel, expectations and hopes. David dropped me off in Sandy and continued buzzing on down to camp in Moab that night. Last I checked he's loving life in Telluride.
From Sandy I just had a short jaunt over to my good buddy Adrian's house. Him and his girlfriend Cecile gave me a warm welcome and we quickly made our way up Little Cottonwood Canyon to check out the beer festival at Snowbird. By the time we arrived the beer supplies were running low but the high country scenery more than made up for it. The next couple days were followed by similar scenes of revelry and merry making including some delicious dinners prepared at my friend Chris's house and one high altitude dinner at Ted and Renata's place in Alta.
When it came time to depart SLC Chris gave me a lift up a good majority of Big Cottonwood Canyon and I finished the climb to Guardsmen's Pass on a beautiful Thursday. This let me arrive into the booming metropolis of Heber City just in time to join my pseudo-cousin Ryan for wings. Not quite on par with the famed 'Em R Wings of Apex but tasty nonetheless. I spent Friday lounging around and sorting my gear. That night Ryan treated me to one of the best damn tortas I've had (in no small part due to the amazing salsa bar with something like 25 salsas). I can't remember the name of the place for the life of me, so that is Ryan's little secret for now.
Saturday I pushed onwards over Daniels' Pass and braced myself for more "wonderful" (wink wink) desert riding. Don't get me wrong....the area does have its beautiful and breathtaking moments, but after 4 or 5 days of riding your bike in it, you're ready for a change. Anyways, I moved on through the interesting (and somewhat hilarious) towns of Vernal and Dinosaur. These are places whose biggest draw is probably tacky dinosaur statues inspired by the nearby fossil beds. I kept moving along through the scorching terrain and cranked hard to arrive in Steamboat Springs in the midst of a gusting thunderstorm. Besselman's former roommate Scott agreed to put me up for the night and after I washed 4 or 5 days' worth of road grime off we headed out in search of burritos. Unfortunately, the prime burrito joint was closed so we settled for free chips and salsa instead.
The next day Scott and I drove south and met up with Bess near Mount Evans. Mount Evans is a nice big 14er mountain which also happens to have the nation's highest road on it. We all camped out and awoke at 430 in the morning to attack the mountain. Bess and Scott dropped bicycles off at the top of the mountain then parked the car a bit lower and began a climbing ascent. I started even further down the mountain and chipped away at a 14 mile climb to the peak. After we had all completed our respective climbs we buzzed down the mountain on bicycles. The other two guys stopped about halfway down while I continued all the way down to Idaho Springs- a total of 28 miles and 7000 or so feet in altitude.
After our little side adventure I was dropped off in Kremmling (a.k.a. Krem-tucky) while Bess and Scott headed back north to Steamboat for a friend's wedding. Although I had planned to just sleep in Kremtucky I decided the park did not look all that enticing and rode onwards only to be thwarted by the most voracious mosquitoes of my whole trip and also one of the gnarliest-looking thunderstorms. I took shelter under a general store's awning in Parshall before backtracking to a river access area and ninja-camping. The rain had subdued the mozzies a bit but I was still terrified with how fast and thick they swarmed.
Yet another high-and-dry night in the hammock and I awoke refreshed to ride up to Grand Lake to meet up with my buddy Gray. Lots of shenanigans and debauchery ensued as we celebrated the nation's birthday. As I parted with Gray and my new friends I can't say I felt rested but I can say that I had one heck of a 4th.
Tonight finds me writing to y'all from Fraser. TK, architect of rock-solid wheels and friend of cyclists the world over (well, at least Carrboro right now) told me I MUST visit his old-school buddy here. I've never had any qualms with "visiting" (aka mooching) mutual friends so I stopped in to say hello to Jesse and his family. Tomorrow I'll be attacking a slightly dubious sounding mountain shortcut that Jesse recommends. I'll do my best to tune in from the other side and let you all know how it turns out.
Phew! For now I'm exhausted and going to hit the hay so I can meet Gray for a farewell cup of coffee tomorrow morn. Take care folks!

The Kindness of Strangers

As the adventure last stood I was in the middle of the eastern Oregon desert, just outside of Burns. I spent the an interesting night camping along a ridge, wind buffeting my hammock as I watched a lightning storm slide across the valley below. The next day I found myself in Vale, Oregon. As I stopped at a supermarket to charge my phone and munch snacks I started talking with some younger folks who were trying to cash in at the recycling machines. Before parting ways they offered me two icy cold gatorades...a welcome treat after the high desert sun!
While trying to scout out a place to sleep in the park two reassuring things happen. One was that I met and spoke with the mayor (he happened to be coaching a little league team). Although he couldn't give me "permission" to stay in the park, he said that he didn't think that it would be a problem and he would let the proper authorities know. After speaking with the mayor I wandered over to the pool and asked if I could use the showers. The girl at the front desk said I was free to use the showers but warned me they had no doors. She said my best chance was to be quick before the pool closed and all the kids swarmed the bathroom. After a brisk and invigorating shower I decided that all that desert riding deserved a bite to eat at the Mexican restaurant I saw on the way into town.
Sticking to the budget is important so I don't take decisions like this lightly but often (as in this case) it works out to save me in the long run. As I munched on my taco salad (with lengua, mmmmmm!) the owner of the restaurant struck up conversation with me. After hearing about my crazy trip Edgar called out to his god-son Carlos. The two quizzed me with the usual questions including the "where do you sleep". When I answered that I was planning to sleep in the park, Edgar quickly offered me the empty apartment above the restaurant! If you ever find yourself in Vale, be sure to drop into Chabelita's for some tasty grub and friendly people!
The next day I struck out for Boise. After a late start (had to get more salsa at Chabelita's!) I rode the short and relatively easy 60 miles to arrive in Boise about 6 or 7 PM. Luckily I had been able to arrange a couchsurfer; big thanks go to Dan for hosting me on such short notice! Dan had an amazing project going on in his backyard following the principles of permaculture. This is something I've become more and more interested in as I first encountered it in Croatia and on other farms. It basically takes the idea of sustainable agriculture even further. Had a great salad from Dan's garden and after he retired (darn 9-5 jobs) I had a nice evening hanging out with his roommate Becki and and her visiting friend Chris. Chris made a super cool sketch of me, I'll try to upload it.
Moving on from Boise I found myself in the small town of Buhl, Idaho. I stopped by a restaurant to relieve myself and fill water bottles before finding a camping spot but was tempted by cheese tots. Once again this purchase proved wise. A young man sitting in the next booth over became interested in my strange story and by the end of our respective meals extended an offer to sleep on his couch. I pretty much always prefer a couch over the unknown perils of a small town park (bored teens are the most dangerous wildlife of all). Travis had to work early in the morning but we had a hearty bacon and eggs breakfast together and he loaded me down with lots of goodies for the road.
Working my way east from Buhl to Burley was slow going with a headwind....REAL slow going. About 15 miles from Burley I got tired of crawling along while truck after truck buzzed by with empty beds. I started the technique of thumbing while riding with hopes of getting to Burley. From there my direction would head south and the torturous wind coming from the northeast would be eased. Around 8 or 9 miles out someone FINALLY pulled over and offered me a lift. I crammed my bike into the back of the SUV and had an entertaining chat with a fine family from Kimberly. Jim, Diane and their daughter Laura dropped me off at the high school and gave me even more treats for the road!
I started my journey onward feeling somewhat apprehensive about finding somewhere to sleep in such empty desert with no size able towns for at least 50 miles. Just as I was about to leave Burley a car full of raucous teenagers gave me some cheerful shouts. I circled back and asked them what was going on. They were inviting me to come over and have a bite to eat! I followed them back to one of their houses. The Handy family was no stranger to having loads of crazy kids around and they gave me a warm welcome. A restful sleep on the trampoline and the next day I was working my way south to SLC.
In summary, this leg of the trip was characterized by amazing kindness and hospitality by people who didn't even know me. I suppose what I do is a rarity and people get a kick out of it, but I think the unending kindness I'm constantly shown is much more stunning. Maybe I had lost faith in people (especially in the US) but bit by bit, pedal stroke by pedal stroke my confidence in kindness and love is restored.
Coming in the next installment: the final leg to Salt Lake, a little R&R and the road onward to Colorado!