Summits Aplenty

Now it was Sunday morning and it was time to get out of the church before we disrupted services with our boisterous presence. We wrote a thank you note and cracked the windows, hoping to alleviate some of the damage we had done the night before. Four summits today. Three serious ones and a trainee. Robinson Summit at 7,588 feet. Drop a thousand feet. Little Antelope Summit at 7,438 feet. Drop. Pancake Summit at 6,521 feet. (That was the softie.) And Pinto Summit at 7,351 feet. This country has quite a few mountains.

We began to enjoy a few small rain drops just at the beginning of the final climb but luckily evaded a storm. Rode on to our destination, Eureka, which is unfortunately situated on a steep hill. The wise venture none too far into town without necessity, lest they climb back up to the start. We rested at a well-stocked grocery store and got the word on camping in a city park on the street behind. We sat outside and snacked on various delicacies. I bought a bag of tortilla chips and an awful container of salsa. Mostly red water. So then I bought a dip advertised as guacamole but the avocado content was dubious. The combination of both dips led to an acceptable pair for the chips. We got the word on the local pool and rode over. Our aquatic recreation was indoor this time, in water that was very warm. The pool toys were well stocked. There was an an enormous inflatable beach ball that we tried to jump on top of unsuccessfully, maybe four feet in diameter. Then there was another inflatable monstrosity, what looked like a curly cue french fry. Water torpedoes. Some members of the cycling crew were getting a little bit rowdy, the lifeguard was not into it.

Pools offer not only a source of entertainment but an accessible place to bathe. There is much grime to be chiseled off. I took a shower and split off toward the library to hopefully gain internet access and update this website. The library was closed by this time and there were no exterior outlets but I did find a prime location at the rear patio of the senior's center across the street. There was an extension cord hanging from their patio cover which I tried at first without success. But the juice was soon flowing as I discovered that the plug was at the end of a series of multi-colored party lights decorating the trellis. Festively illuminated, I started to peck away. An older woman arrived soon after and started to tell me a series of incredible stories. She had been the first female graduate of the Long Beach Police Academy but wasn't allowed to work as a police officer so took a job as a security guard instead. She had shot and killed a man on the job and watched a cop get blown away right in front of her during the same incident. She had a passion for the outdoors and talked about a four month backpacking trip in Oregon and of raising horses. As recently as a few years ago she had weighed 150 pounds more but willed herself to walk and be active again while the other seniors drove around in motorized carts. She told me that kids these days don't really know how to have fun and that it was good that we were on this ride. I didn't catch her name before she left but she thanked me for listening and I thanked her for the stories.

I was just packing up the computer when Nate, Jordan, and Jeremy arrived with Swedish Fish. I relayed some of the stories and I left Nate with the computer while the rest of us went back to the park. I later spilled teriyaki noodles all over my leg, thankfully without any serious burns. We were drifting off to sleep when another touring cyclist arrived and sort of inserted himself into our camp, but we are brothers in arms so we attempted to be polite before the eyelids closed again.

Eureka has been one of the more interesting Western towns. They have a historic opera house and courthouse that I was interested in seeing but as it was Sunday, no dice. The buildings and facades speak of a time when gold money instantly energized a region and brought culture and people to a barren land. I've wondered if these few outposts would have ever existed if not for the promise of ore. Would anyone have built a road? Would there have been a reason? Would most of the West still be untouched passes and scrub brush?

Leaving Ely.

The land is rugged.

Always have a break at the top of a pass.

Yep, they have electricity in Nevada.

Living the dream.

Next visit.

Getting historic.

To Ely

We woke up in Baker and cleared out of the antiques room/icehouse so hopefully some sales could be made. It was only a few steps over to the Electrolux Cafe where a fair number of us took part in the french toast and homemade cinnamon syrup. Excellent. The community was having a festival and fundraiser to mobilize a fight for local water rights. Apparently Las Vegas desires to have more fountains. There was some talk about our inclusion in a parade but we decided that we really needed to start riding for the day. We had slept in after yesterday's maniacal push so it seemed like forward progress was the thing. Had about a block of it before we met another touring cyclist, an Englishman who was riding across the whole world. The United States is the last leg of his trip and he's heading East before a plane trip to London I believe. You'd never know it just by looking, he was sort of an unassuming guy – mid 40's, could've been mistaken for a software engineer. But... he was tough as nails. Chatted a few minutes longer and then really did start making progress.

Nevada, here we come – straight into stiff, unwavering wind. We had some uneventful riding before another never-ending basin and the gradual climb that seems to go with getting out of one. We arrived – Nate, Jeremy, Jordan, and myself – at a place called Majors Junction, just a couple of drops as we pulled in. There was a bar there with a crusty old guy for an owner. He made some noise about our bikes taking up all of his front porch, but nobody was there. Nobody visits because he charges too much for soda and gets all tough about being on the porch. It was raining at this point but his bar was stupid and the guy was an idiot and we didn't think the weather would pass anytime soon so we began climbing a pass anyway.

The rain was fair coming down at the bar but it really became respectable once we gave up any shelter. Took us about 45 minutes of slow grinding before we crested the hill. It was at this point that the weather cleared. We went down the other side with no rain but did see some storm activity off in the distance. We arrived in Ely and made our first stop at Sportsworld, a combination bike/hunting/camping/all things sports store. I got a wireless connection and fed Jeremy the phone numbers of churches in the area. We had a long string of no answers or plain rejections before we were accepted for the evening at the Grace Foursquare church, the last one on the list. We rode back up a hill to stock up on some groceries while Nate visited the Arby's and inquired about what the staff planned to do with their leftover turnover desserts. Then we cruised over to the church and met the pastor who unlocked the building, shook our hands, and was gone within a matter of minutes. We had the run of the place and cooked our dinners and laid out our belongings and really stunk up the room with a series of obscene farts. Nate rode back to the Arby's near closing time and successfully secured us a bag of unsold turnovers. Well done.

Electrolux Cafe.

Taste of the city out in the sticks.

Fueled, ready for action.

Considering participation in the parade.

Nevada.

To Catch a Thief

Hi all,

Typing from the library in Fallon, Nevada. The AC adapter for the laptop I've been using was stolen earlier today, so there may be some delay in further updates of the blog. Still have the laptop - no need to worry Mr. Kent. I've purchased a new cord online and shipped it ahead. Give you the whole story in a few days.

Wishing you a continually delightful summer,
-Mike Roddy

Masochist's Buffet

Our second morning waking up in Room 303, Hampton Inn, Cedar City, Utah. We went downstairs for a second stab at the continental breakfast – this time with considerably more hesitation. There was riding to be done today and yesterday's meal had not been kind to our bowels. We descended out of Cedar City for a while and traveled on a lonely road. Had a break about twenty miles in where Jordan had to make a deposit in the middle of an open field. Cars could probably see what was going on, I could certainly tell what was going on. What're you gonna do? After a successful eruption we pressed on for some climbing, and inevitable descent to Minersville. Stopped at the gas station and saw a trailer and met another touring cyclist. His name is Nate and he bears an uncanny, alternate dimension, cosmic significance resemblance to our pal Garrett Shannon. In my opinion, anyway. Nate is a grad student in New York City, originally from Indiana. He's riding West as well so we decided to ride together. Nate is also pushing some long days to make it to San Francisco in time to fly to Michigan to attend his brother's wedding. Today his plan was to ride one of those long days. Where we had planned to stop in Milford at 55 miles because of a lack of services, Nate invited us to join him for around 140.

Jordan was into it immediately, I was hesitant, and Jeremy had no passion for it but agreed to go along if that's what everyone else was doing. We contemplated the possibility while riding fifteen miles on to Milford. Nate has a speaker for his Ipod and it was a strange and wonderful experience to be listening to music while we rode. We arrived in Milford, found the grocery store and sat on the curb wondering if we were going to join for the extended day. Not only was it another 84 miles, but without any services. We decided to embrace the spontaneous, join our new companion, and make the slog. We filled up all of our extra water bottles and began the ride.

The first ten miles were fairly uneventful, some gradual climbing. Then the wind came on, strong. It reduced our progress big time. Halved our speed. Then the rain began. Light at first. We sort of chuckled about it. “Haha, this is funny... right? Rain on a tremendously long day. Adventurous, right?” Then the rain became serious. We put on the covers frantically, looked at each other, and somehow knew the remaining miles would not come easily. By now it was both raining and blowing. Jordan apologized to Jeremy and I for his enthusiasm in tackling the challenge. It was miserable, awful, disgusting. And what comes with rain? Lightning, naturally. Lowest point of the entire tour. My mind disengaged from my body while my legs ground slowly in pitiful revolutions. I was a disembodied thought drifting in the haze of the angry clouds. The road disappeared. The other riders disappeared. The scenery was a void. Left leg, right leg, left leg, right leg. Suffering. Pain. Misery. Too many miles ahead to even consider. It was a day only for the most hardened masochists. The question became: Exactly how much beauty is there in suffering?

We were climbing this whole time as well. We saw smoke from a ridge up ahead, then a small fire, likely started by the lightning sparking around us. Frisco Summit at 6,445 feet. Descent. Wah Wah Summit at 6,439 feet. We took a break in a valley, hedged in by our descent behind and the next climb in front. Probably thirty miles between the two. The road stretched out in a long, thin, cruel ribbon in front of us. You pedal and pedal and the range in front of you never seems to get closer, locked in exactly the same place. Leaned our bicycles against a pole or two and sat in the dirt. There was no foliage on either side of the road. No greenery. Just miles of unbroken dirt. A good candidate for a dust storm, which is exactly what appeared while we took that break. You could try to face away from the direction of the wind but the particulate covered your clothes and got in the crevices of your eyes. For those seeking a challenge, challenge delivered.

We pressed on for untold pedal strokes and the weather finally started to improve after our last climb. We began to descend toward the Nevada border. We saw a beautiful sunset over the hills ahead and arrived at the state line just as the last of the day's light was consumed by darkness. Triumph. Joy. An explosion of glee. Our destination was only seven miles off. We had made it. Took out the lights and the rear flashers and actually got assistance from the wind for the final push. We were booking but there was no longer any daylight to show our speed on the cycling computer. We arrived at the Silver Jack Inn in Baker, Nevada and were let into the restaurant/coffee shop/art gallery, after hours. We ate brownies and pie and other baked goods drank fine microbrews and were told to settle the bill in the morning. There was light rain again and Terry, the owner, showed us to the room where he sells antiques. A free indoor stay. Triumph. As always, it is feast or famine, boom or bust on this bike tour. We had done the 140 miles, made it to Baker, had all of our toes. It was awful at so many points, but incredible nonetheless. Longest single day of riding for any of us. And we are not merely bicyclists, but time travelers, gaining an hour upon crossing into the Pacific Time Zone. Good to be done, never again.

In Utah? What?

And people talk in hushed tones when they drive it.

Camera was stowed during the worst of the rain. Just imagine us in that.

Garrett Shannon, I mean, Nate Crimmins.

Boulevard of no headway.

Dirt sandwich. Ripe for dust storms.

Temporary Insanity. Maybe not temporary...

"I can't believe you idiots brought me along for this."

Looking up.

What now Utah!?

Business Travel

We rose from some awfully plush beds and got down to the lobby five minutes early of the posted breakfast opening. Everything was already set out and set up, excellent. The gorge-fest was on. Three different kinds of cereal, French toast, muffins, danishes, chopped fruit, orange juice, apple juice, and much more that I'm certainly forgetting. It had been our desire to shut the thing down but the Hampton has a very well-stocked pantry behind their continental breakfast so we had to be content with purely personal satisfaction. After we had eaten ourselves into a drunken stupor we lumped back up to the room. Jordan and Jeremy went back to sleep while I attempted to update the website.

All parties came to and we made some plans to go out on the town during our rest day. We left a lot of belongings back in the hotel room and the bikes were nimble, quick, accelerated hard. That was new. Rode north to the better of the two bike shops and topped off with their floor pump. I purchased a Discovery Channel cycling cap that was on discount. Our intention was to go to the University of Southern Utah campus but we were diverted by a restaurant called the Pizza Factory. By this time it was at least five hours after breakfast, I assure you. The lunch special was a personal pizza, a soda, and access to a well-stocked salad bar. Lunch was fine and we eventually did make it to the campus. Cedar City is home to a premiere Shakespeare festival but we didn't make it to any performances during our visit, just passed by the theaters where the plays were being staged. We did, however, visit a fine arts gallery housed in one of the campus buildings. Saw quite a few photos of natural landmarks that we had passed in the last week or so. The campus was attractive but there were groceries to buy, so we pressed on.

On the way out we passed their pool which had an enticing multi-story slide, unfortunately out of order. Back to the hotel to do laundry and eat more pizza and pack our bags to begin riding again the next day. The internet had not been working at the Hampton. I tried everything I knew how to do and they called some tech support hotline to no avail. But... a lot of development is taking place near the hotel and on the second evening of our stay in Cedar City the Supercuts router came online. Success! We wasted time on the computer in our room instead of out in the parking lot connected to the “Reyes Family Network.” Real beds called our names and we relented and slept soundly, held aloft by dreams of signed contracts and successful conferences at the Hampton Inn.

Isn't that precious?

I resisted the urge to draw lewd things on them.

Airtime.

Staying at the Hampton

This morning was a long, hard slog of approximately 35 miles of consistent uphill. Sure there were some flats and plateaus, but the name of the game was up. Started out awfully cold in Panguitch, a very crisp morning. All of the warmers and jackets, however, came off within a few minutes of encountering the sun and the climb. We took our midway break at a gas station and general store on Lake Panguitch. The place was a two story log cabin with a front porch and bench seating, a miniature lodge. It was an ideal spot to watch a guy smash into the gas station awning. He was driving a pickup truck with an oversize camper shell attached and bashed right into the overhang above the gas pumps. The shell swayed back and forth dangerously from the impact but eventually stabilized. His buddy got out to assess the damage and pulled off a couple of exterior pieces of the shell, metal rails and such. We spoke briefly to a guy from Kansas and named names, listing off the cities we had been to. Hey, now we're on the level with Kansas folks.

We continued climbing again, occasionally stopping to fill up the water bottles or down a Clif bar, there was little relief. I believe it was the longest sustained climb of the tour. The thing was nearly over when we entered the Cedar Breaks National Monument but pushed for one final stretch to the absolute top. We stopped at a meadow blooming with stunning wildflowers and then began a glorious downhill push. It was around ten miles of good, strong descent with an S curve thrown in for good measure. The final portion became more gradual and we rode steadily toward Cedar City. During the final approach to the city we saw a perplexing dude. He was riding in the opposite direction, was missing many of his teeth, rode a rickety bicycle and was hauling near-empty panniers. The crowning achievement of the whole setup though, was a full size BBQ propane tank lashed to his rear rack. Yes, we're talking gas grill. Right next to your Weber. You want to char some doggies, he's got what you need. We cracked up hysterically and wondered if it had actually happened.

Our destination in Cedar City was of the slightly more luxurious variety. My uncle does a lot of business travel for his job computer consulting and has racked up quite a few points with the Hilton chain. He got in touch with me some days earlier and offered to put us up if a city had a participating hotel. Cedar City is the proud home of a Hampton Inn. Thank you Uncle John. And hello to Aunt Beth and Jenna and Andrew. And if that wasn't enough, Jeremy's mom offered to pay for another evening so we could have a rest day after twelve days on the road.

We found an internet cafe, looked up directions, and headed toward Easy Street. Visited both of the town's bike shops on the way and Jordan was quite pleased to find a replacement Armadillo tire after his current rear had been damaged in the rain cover/skid incident. Jeremy replaced his broken bottle at one shop and bought a second at the other. We arrived at the Hampton, checked in, and picked up a package from my mom. Thanks Mom. But also thanks to Janet Shannon, mother of our good friend Garrett Shannon. The cardboard box was filled with the leftovers of gourmet camp food Garrett had been receiving on his solo journey across the US some months prior. Individual packets of olive oil, pastas, dehydrated vegetables, couscous, mushroom rice, incredible. We will eat in style.

We were waiting for some cookies to finish baking in the Hampton reception area and some obnoxious motorcycle types arrived. They thought they were tough because they bought some stuff at the Harley Davidson store but they were annoying so we departed, sans cookies. Ate at the Costa Vida Mexican restaurant, a bit like Chiptole, and weird to be watching surf videos on the wall in Utah. A girl working there complimented on us our tee shirts and we had Horchata. In Utah? It was great.

We came back and the cookies were ready and we ate many and spoke to a family that ended up being from Poway, Sabre Springs. Small world huh? Boredom struck late in the evening and we walked over to Wal Mart and rode around on their motorized scooters. An employee yelled at us and told us “Those aren't for playing on.” Buzzkill. Everybody looked sad in Wal Mart so we went back home to the Hampton. Finished the day watching some bad TV and asked for a wake up call at 5:55 the next morning.

The pool hall/garage at the Hitchin' Post.

On the climb.

The reverse.

At the top.

Around 10,000 feet.

Final descent into Cedar City.

Panguitch and New Realities

We left Escalante and did some moderate climbing up to the first peak of the day. Then some downhill to redeem the Hogback. Hard, winding turns. Steep descent. Hit a new tour record at 52.7 mph. An excellent piece of riding. We continued pedaling on the flats and met another touring cyclist and stopped to talk. He looked to be in his 60's and was riding solo to New York City for a high school reunion. It was awesome, impressive, and inspiring. To have four or five more decades of strong riding in front of us is pretty cool. We cruised on through Henrieville and took our first real break of the day in a town called Tropic.

Tropic was surprisingly well-developed with a thick cluster of stores right along the highway. The tourist trade seems to lift it up. We stopped at the small grocery store and watched a whole slew of foreign travelers come through. There was a French guy who talked on a pay phone for at least 45 minutes, and then a woman who cleaned her windshield with frantic, spastic movements, and a few girls speaking French – but wearing smocks, which meant they worked there, but why do they speak French, but? A confusing place. Jeremy broke the lid of one of his water bottles and cried briefly, we all refueled on calories.

Soon it was time to ride again and we did some gradual climbing up to a plateau with all sorts of motels and hotels and ATV rental places. The map indicated that we'd be exiting the highway for a separated bike path and we saw a dirt road that paralleled the pavement. Great, Adventure Cycling. Not on these tires. But we were just premature in our judgments and soon enough, a paved bike path. Man was that thing fun. Whoever is responsible for the road descending down Red Canyon apparently thought bicycles and traffic shouldn't mix so they built a walking and riding path. After thousands of miles of open American highway it was pretty strange to be riding on a miniaturized road. But the curves were far sharper than a car could take and we zipped down the mountain, Jordan and I trading spots off the front, racing. We got to the end of it and realized that we had totally missed the scenery of the canyon in the novelty of having our own route. Five miles of good time.

We stopped for a piece of fruit or two and began the last stretch toward Panguitch. We had downhill terrain and some fine tailwind assistance and showed up in short order. We stopped first at the library but their internet wasn't working due to some fiber optic cable nonsense. Or so they said. We surveyed nearly all the local restaurants and settled on a pizza and pasta place which treated us well. So well, in fact, that Jordan laid down on the floor and had a brief nap next to our booth. Back to consciousness and we sought out the pool which was very cleverly hidden indoors, inside the high school, and with the very limited hours of 2 to 4 PM. Just missed the window. We made another inquiry at the library and the internet was functioning again. There wasn't any better spot so I set up the laptop on a miniature chair while I sat on the stairs of the reading area in the children's section. We goofed off in the library for a while and eventually Jeremy and Jordan joined me on the steps as well. We were offered a small child to take with us but it turned out the mother wanted to hold onto her after all.

The library closed and we headed over to the Hitchin' Post campground to begin our campaign of doing what we feel like. We looked for somebody at the office and eventually settled our debt with a woman who may have been slightly drunk. The tab was 15.15 but we gave only bills and that seemed to be fine. We also helped ourselves to bite-size Butterfingers from a jar on the counter. We headed over to the grass tent area and were shown a three car garage which housed a pool table, ping pong table, and various storage for the campground. It began to rain lightly so we moved all of our stuff inside the unfinished garage. We later overheard some older intoxicated ladies making some noise about our apparently unorthodox sleeping arrangements. There was no migration though, we're tired of being pushovers at private campgrounds. We now create our own realities. We talked to ATV riders traveling on the Payute Trail, and some RV campers from East Texas, and then dozed off.

Top of the first climb.

Is that the best you can do?

I've seen tougher.

Take a look at your computer screen and now imagine it about three thousand times bigger.

Isn't that cute?

Red Canyon Bike Path.

Bottom of Red Canyon.

Everybody has a good time in Panguitch.