Cycle Through America 2008

The forecast improved dramatically overnight.  Last night we expected steady morning rain diminishing to afternoon showers; this morning, overcast and humid but dry all day.  It was another day of hills, but only 68 miles from Worcester to Windsor Locks, CT.  I rode at a comfortable pace with the same bunch as Thursday (the Jersey Boys Tom and Bob, Bill, Larry, Champ and Hank, plus Chris Hall of Virginia and Doug Squires of Coventy, UK.  At a traffic light, a Worcester police officer pulled up next to us and asked where we were going.  "Maine to Florida."  "Florida, Mass [in Berkshire County]?"  "No.  Florida, Florida!"  We passed some lakes and woods, crossed into Connecticut and indeed had some hill climbing.  We were rewarded with a long brisk descent into Somers, CT, a fine view of the Connecticut River as we pedaled across, and a few minutes of sunshine.  We stopped for lunch within sight of the motel and called it a fine day of riding.  I walked to Mass at a church about 2 miles from the motel and returned in time for the briefing about tomorrow's long hilly ride into New York State.  Time for bed.

Some Rocking and Much Rolling

It was overcast and within a few degrees of 70 for our 93-mile ride with 4,200 feet of climbing from Portsmouth, NH to Worcester, MA, but it stayed dry all morning.  However, the forecast called for afternoon rain so I had an incentive to push hard and finish early.  The first hour was foggy and my glasses were misty, but as the day and my lenses cleared I saw a few red leaves on the maples and sumacs.  Thye hills separated the riders depending on how well they go up and down, and the Dairy Queens separated them further depending on how well they like ice cream.  As it happened, I rode solo the last four hours and, though I had a few sprinkles in the last 20 minutes, I made it to the motel a half hour before the steady rain which lasted all afternoon and into the night.  Thursday was good, Friday was better, and Saturday might be still better (or did the TV say wetter?)

[Posted 9/24 due to 9/23 PC issues]

Time to Ride Again

It's been over three years since my seven-week, 3,400-mile bike ride from Los Angeles to Boston in 2008.  It was a great trip with spectacular and diverse scenery, with good companions striving for a common goal, with a few adventures, and with generous donors raising over $30,000 for the good works of Catholic Charities.  Since then, I've pedaled over 20,000 more miles, attended a hill-climbing school in North Carolina, and done some three and four-day tours.  But I have not recaptured the simple magic of eat-sleep-bike for weeks at a time.  It's time to ride again.

On September 21, I will meet two dozen other bicyclists from twelve US states and three other countries for a 3-1/2-week, 1,600-mile bike ride from Portland, Maine to Daytona Beach, Florida, arriving on October 15.  Four of those riders are familiar companions from the 2008 trip, and the others are also veterans of cross-country rides in other years.  Just as in 2008, the trip will be supported by Tracy Leiner and her staff at CrossRoads Cycling Adventures.  It's time to ride again.

Over the past weekend, Tropical Storm Irene dropped over four inches of rain and a 22-foot long tree limb in my driveway.  Over 12 inches of rain fell over much of the Catskill Mountain watersheds that drain into the Mohawk River valley where I often bike.  It was way too wet and windy to bike, and many of the valley roads were under water.  But now the sun is out.  It's time to ride again.

Although the storm left upstate New York on Sunday night, the creeks and rivers rose for another day to levels not seen in hundreds of years.  There have been deaths, destruction and power outages that continue.  I am sure there will be a surge of folks who need the emergency assistance that Catholic Charities has provided to eastern New York families regardless of faith for nearly 100 years.  And Catholic Charities needs generous donors again to help it provide that assistance.  It's time to ride again.

I invite you to read this blog as I prepare for and complete my 2011 Maine to Florida east coast ride.  Feel free to comment if you are so moved.  And please consider a donation to Catholic Charities of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Albany.  It's time to ride again.

Calling a Geography Nerd to Account

For the first time since early May, I took two days off the bike and two days without Gatorade.  Then Monday, I did a 61-mile ride so I could push my monthly bike mileage for June to 2,000 miles, a total I probably will never approach again.  My loop went along the north bank of the Mohawk River to Glenville and then followed the route along the south bank that many of us pedalled on the tour just last Wednesday.  That part of the bike path has long been one of my favorites, but it is now layered with additional memories.

I promised some statistics.  The CrossRoads cue sheets show the route from the Los Angeles motel to the Pacific beach and then to the Atlantic beach totals 3,394.0 miles over 48 days (43 riding days plus 5 rest days).  To that, we added 8.4 miles of unexpected detours around closed bridges in Illinois.  And to that, I added 15.7 more miles for planned and unplanned detours, bringing my total mileage to 3,418.1 miles or 79.5 miles per average riding day.  The longest day was 115.4 miles from Blythe, CA to Wickenburg, AZ.  The shortest was 18.4 miles from Burlington, MA to the beach in Boston.

CrossRoads calculates that we did 146,400 feet of uphill climbing, an average of 3,405 feet per riding day.  The biggest climbing day was 7,500 feet from Wickenburg, AZ, over two mountain passes, to Prescott, AZ.  Two consecutive days tied for least climbing, namely the 500 foot rides from Dalhart, TX to Guymon, OK and from Guymon to Liberal, KS

I spent 270 hours and 42 minutes traveling from motel to motel (6:17 per day), pedalling my bike for 227 hours and 50 minutes of that time (5:18 per day).  The difference (0:59 per day) was filled by stops for photos, fixing flats, SAG stops and restaurants, and sightseeing, etc.  My longest day of pedalling was 8:18 for the 98-mile ride to Dahlhart, TX into a headwind.  My shortest was 1:46 for the ride to the Atlantic beach.

My maximum speed was 48.7 mph on a short downhill on the ride to Tucumcari, NM.  I went 4.4 mph in my very lowest gear over the top of a steep hill near Wooster, OH.  I averaged 15.0 mph while pedalling.  My fastest day was 20.7 mph for the 39-mile, wind-aided ride to Liberal, KS.  My slowest was 10.4 mph for the ceremonial ride through traffic to the Atlantic beach.

I had ten flat tires for which I replaced the inner tube, and for one of which I replaced the rear tire.  My front tire made it from coast to coast.  The record number of flats on this trip was 17.  I have yet to confirm it, but I think we had one rider with no flats.  (I know, I know.  I too have my doubts about that one.)

Our lowest elevation was 14 feet below sea level on I-10 east of Indio, CA.  Our highest elevation was 7.562 feet on I-25 in Glorieta Pass, NM.

I did not record how much Gatorade or how many bananas I consumed.  Nor did I record the number of memories, but there are enough to last a long, long time.

Over? It's Never Over

Thursday night, after our last full day of riding, and after dinner at the motel, each rider had a chance to share some thoughts about our seven-week adventure.  Some were funny, some were spiritual, a few were musical, and most were grateful.  All of us have begun to realize more acutely in the last week that we have created a team, a community, a family, and that - even if some of us might see each other again - the common purpose of the trip was about to be achieved and so the reason for this group's life together was about to end.  We were proud, tired, exhilarated and sad.

Friday, we left the motel in hazy sunshine to battle metro Boston's rush hour traffic on the 18-mile ride to the beach.  There was no reason to hurry, no afternoon heat or storms to beat, and no bragging rights to be won.  We rode in a group of 35 until auto traffic and stop lights separated us.  I rode near the rear, reluctant to end the tour.  Then four of us - Barbara Wood, Beverly Tein, Bill Finnerty and I - formed a convoy at the very back to make sure no rider had to cope with the traffic alone.  We missed a turn in Winchester, but got directions from pedestrians and a local cyclist to get back on route.  The delay made us last to arrive at the rendezvous for the final five miles.  CrossRoads escorted us with their vans at the front and back.  Someone on a porch asked me "Where'd you come from?" and I answered "Los Angeles!"  It was hard for him and for me to believe it.  Local commuters were sometimes patient and sometimes not.  For the last two miles, an additional escort of three police cars blocked intersections for us and let us roll together through traffic lights.  We could hear seagulls and smell salty air.  Then - as the sun burned through the haze - we crested a little rise, saw the water, turned down the hill and rode the last half-mile to the beach.  I was the very last rider to arrive.  There were friends and family, including my wife and children, to greet us at curbside.  Then we carried our bikes across the loose, dry sand to the harder packed, wet sand and on toward the ocean.  Randy Evans remounted his bike and pedalled hub-deep into the water.  All of us dipped one or two wheels.  Some lifted their bikes over head.  Others went for a swim in their bike clothes.  Many, many photos were taken.  The dream was realized.  The journey had ended.  Sea salt was not the only contribution to the saline in my eyes.  We put the bikes in various vehicles and drove back to the motel for a relaxing afternoon and a bittersweet evening of rejoicing and farewells.

Saturday, I traveled 190 miles; that's more mileage than on any other day since the tour began in early May.  It was in the family mini-van as we drove home from Boston, west past the Connecticut and Hudson Rivers across which we had pedalled two and three days earlier.  I'll be re-integrating back into pre-tour routines.  I expect that in a few days, I'll post some final photos and statistics of the tour on this blog site.  I'll also read the other rider blogs, exchange photos with them, prepare an album and reports for interested friends and supporters.  This will help me to hang on to the trip a little longer.  But even when those tasks are finished, and even when life moves on to other things, the memories of this trip and the good work that Catholic Charities can do with the funds so many generous souls have contributed, will last quite a bit longer.  Thank you all for your advice, comments, friendship and support.

Almost There

Today, we rode 87 hilly miles under cloudy skies with occasional light rain showers from Brattleboro, Vermont, across the Connecticut River into New Hampshire, and on to Burlington, Massachusetts.  It has been just over 3,394 miles in 47 days from the Pacific Ocean in Los Angeles and we have one more day and 18 miles to get to the Atlantic Ocean at Revere Beach, Boston.  Lots of people have helped me get this far.  Family and friends have encouraged me.  CrossRoads staff have been top notch on training advice, route planning, SAG support, and occasional mechanical work.  My fellow riders have helped me stay on route, fixed many flats and one stuck chain, and been both fun and inspirational.  Lots of folks have pushed our fundraising total for Catholic Charities to just over $30,000.  One more effort could get us to $34,120 which would be $10 per mile.  Let's see how tomorrow goes.

Betwixt and Between

Where to begin?  Why, at the beginning, of course.  This morning, I awoke in my own bed, but the tour is not over.  Of course, I was glad to be home with my wife and son, but I worried that I would mix my home routines with my tour routines and leave something at home that I would need on the road.  (So far, I don't think my fear has been realized.)  Maureen drove me to the motel after breakfast.  There I met my pastor, Fr. Michael Farano, a photographer from the diocesesan newpaper, and some folks from CC, all as expected.  After Fr. Farano offered a prayer for the safety of the cyclists, a TV reporter asked for some time with me, which I gave him in order to boost the fundraiser for CC.  Then, Bishop Hubbard arrived to wish me well and we had a nice chat and posed for photos.  These were all conversations I was happy to have, but they led to my leaving the motel last of all the riders for the 76 mile ride over the Green Mountains to Brattleboro, VT.  Temperatures were seasonable, the sky was blue with fair weather cumulus clouds, and the winds were behind us - yet another great day to ride!  About five miles into the ride, at the bottom of the hill climbing up from the Hudson River in Troy, I found Scott Logan with his bike upside down.  His chain had wedged in his crank, much like mine had at the bottom of the hill climbing up from the Mississippi River in Quincy, IL.  So we began to take apart his crank in order to free the chain.  We were soon joined by Noreen Macklin, Meredith Johnson and Ron Wilson who came back down the hill to see what had happened to Scott.  We completed the fix and all got under way about a half hour later.  At the 12-mile point, Clark of CrossRoads told us we were 45 minutes behind the next rider in front of us.  So we resolved to ride together at a comfortable pace and see what the day might bring.  We started one of my favorite local roads, the 9-mile rolling ride on Tamarac Road from Clums Corner to Boyntonville, when a school bus, soon followed by two more, came up behind us but could not pass on the narrow hilly road.  In an effort to be courteous, we turned off the road into a driveway, but we were immediately followed by the three buses ... into the bus depot yard.  Some days, you can't win for trying.  This put us into a silly mood and reconfirmed our expectation that we would finish the day's ride last of all the riders, an expectation confirmed when were were last into the first SAG stop.  With such a relaxed attitude, we lingered for pictures at the Vermont state line.  We passed multi-hued flowers and a display of tree stumps chain-sawed into bears.  As we rode to the Bennington Battlefield Monument, we found Ken Zika and Paula Farmer and invited them to join our Caboose Club.  We detoured a few yards off the route to visit Robert Frost's grave where his epitaph reads "I had a lover's quarrel with the world."  My ambitions to be last crumbled on the seven-mile climb out of Bennington.  Then, there was a wonderful descent to Wilmington on which I hit 46.6 mph, even though I was holding back in order not to crash during the last three days of the tour.  Following the second SAG stop, there was a four mile climb up Hogback Mountain with its advertised "100-mile view."  There, in southeastern Vermont, my aunt and uncle from northwestern Vermont surprised me.  I told them that a week ago I had told Maureen that I was ready for the tour to be over, but now I am not so sure.  Then followed another long exhilarating descent, this time into Brattleboro.  I was torn about how to entitle my blog post today.  Should it be "Dandelions, Tiger Lilies and Wooden Bears, Oh My!" for the sights we saw on the way out of NY?  Should it be "The Road Taken, or Not Taken" for our detour to the Frost grave?  Because of this indecision and the mixed emotions I'm experiencing in the last days of the tour, I settled - as you see - on something else.  Tomorrow is our last full day of riding, 80-some miles from Vermont, through the hills of southern New Hampshire, and into our final state, Massachusetts.

Charity Resumes at Home

Monday, we rode 78 miles from Liverpool in suburban Syracuse to Little Falls, NY.  It was cool all day, with morning cloud burning off at mid-day, with smooth pavement and light tailwinds.  I rode most of the way to the first SAG stop with Janie Bender, Mary Ann Daly, Darryl English and Linda Kasper, then rode solo to the second SAG stop set up by Catholic Charities in Marcy, just before Utica.  It was great to see Betsy, Ben and Terry from CC and to introduce them to my biking friends.  Ben's brownies were a particular hit.  After route rap and dinner in the Little Falls motel, many of us walked to the 40 foot high lift lock in the NYS Barge Canal to watch a recreational boat being lowered on its downstream journey.  Then we found ice cream at a shop in a restored mill building next to the Mohawk River.  Another great day on and off the bike.

Tuesday, was another great biking day - cool, overcast giving way to sun, smooth roads and a tailwind - for our 69 mile ride to my hometown of Latham in suburban Albany.  We were joined in Little Falls by Roger Markovics of CC in Albany who rode with us.  For a guy on a mountain bike who has not been averaging 80 miles a day for the last six weeks, he stayed pretty close to us.  Good going Roger!  CC again set up a second SAG stop for us, this time in Scotia.  Over three dozen people were there to greet us and to supply us with snacks and drinks.  It was a real lift to our spirits.  From there, I led a group of about twenty riders on an alternative 15-mile route to Latham, linking two sections of the bike path along the Mohawk River by going through the historic Stockade section of Schenectady, and rejoining the CrossRoads route about three miles from the motel.  At the point of "rejoinder," I met some family and friends, then pedalled the last three miles to the motel to meet wife Maureen, son Tom and still more friends.  We loaded my bike and luggage into our mini-van for the four mile ride from the motel to my home where I'll spend the night.

Tomorrow, we ride out of NYS into Vermont.  Just three more states, three more days, and 181 more miles to the wheel dip in Boston.  I can hardly believe it.

Drumlins before the Mohawk

Today, we rode 68 miles from Canandaigua to Liverpool in suburban Syracuse, NY.  It was another sunny, cool day with tailwinds on good roads.  The cycling life can be good!  Tomorrow, we will pedal out of the Great Lakes basin into the Mohawk River valley which flows east into the Hudson which in turn flows south into the Atlantic Ocean.  But today on our west-to-east route, we rode up, over and down numerous hills formed 10,000 years ago by the melting glaciers which left deposits of stones, forming north-south ridges.  These deposits are generally called moraines, and they often take the form of overturned canoes, now covered with grass and trees, called drumlins.  Tomorrow, we ride to Little Falls.

XC08 - Mile 3K

Sometime on our 93-mile Saturday ride from Hamburg to Canandaigua, we reached the 3,000 mile mark.  CrossRoads had some cheerleaders and signs about 24 miles into the ride: I calculated it to be about 78 miles into the ride.  I'll try to reconcile the figures after the tour.  In any event, it is amazing and satisfying to think that we have propelled ourselves so far and that we are now less than a week and 400 miles from our goal.  The day started cool and sunny with a tailwind on good roads, all ideal for cycling.  At mile 42, by pre-arrangement, I met my Adirondack mountaineering buddies, Bill Crowe and Paul Sheneman, who rode with me the last 51 rolling miles to the motel.  At the second SAG stop in Avon, other hiking friends - Shae Hanford and Bill Lindenfelser - came to see us.  Bill, Paul and I finished the ride before a thunderstorm rolled in from the west, but some of the other riders had to take shelter along the road and they and some others got wet.  My sisters, Julie and Mary, and Mary's husband Paul, picked me up at the motel to go to Mass at St. Mary's church in Canandaigua where the music was provided by an organist and soprano cantor.  Then the four of us met my sister, Liz and our mother for a very nice dinner near the shore of Canandaigua Lake.  The day marked some "lasts."  It was the last Saturday ride and the last scheduled 90+ mile ride of the tour.  But somehow I think we have not yet seen the las adventure.