Rolling Real Deep: September 2008

It was really my intention to have a last update a few days before our arrival to the Atlantic Ocean, as I assumed that it would be some time afterwards before I had the chance to be on a computer again. I failed in this way, and have found myself on the 21st of September with nary an update other than that we have in fact made it. I find myself on an incredibly slow, however dependable, computer at a farmhouse in Orwell, Vermont, with little time to spare for this technological gadget called a computer and all of it's internets. Therefore, so as not to leave all of our loyal readers waiting any longer, I will now offer a drastically shortened, however exciting, recap of our trip from Chicago to the mighty Atlantic.

After spending an extra day in Chicago, hosted to a feast and good times by my lovely Aunt Linda and generous Uncle Tom Schumacher, we were on our way again. Indiana proved to be unbelievably flat, as well as having some of the most generous people we've encountered to date. Our breakfast was bought for us by a nice man in Valparaiso, and our quick stop at a winery turned into a comedy show after the wine-filler lady offered us as much as we wanted, and was later forced to ask us to leave in fear of us crashing. The rest of Indiana was fairly uneventful, as no stories of note are coming to mind.

Ohio was much of the same, as the flattest riding of the country continued, much to our surprise. Oberlin, Ohio turned out to be one of the most pleasant surprises of the trip, and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely in this tiny little University town. Upon our entrance on a glorious Labor Day we were greeted by a nice young woman who had just ridden her bicycle all the way to San Francisco with a number of other youths in the area. We made plans to meet up later and share stories. Splendid. We had made plans to stay with Nate's old high school friend, Hannah, and were greeted in front of her apartment by one of her four roommates, Andrew. Andrew was extremely generous and accomodating, leading us to the best burrito spot in town before giving us an extensive tour of the Oberlin campus and surrounding neighborhoods. To my surprise and delight, Oberlin, home of about 3,000 students, has a co-op system that includes over 600 members. I immediately made myself at home in one of the giant houses and began chopping apples to help with the preparations of that night's dinner. As it was the night before the first day of school, there was to be a 600 person picnic at one of the houses, to which we were invited. We attended and met dozens upon dozens of amiable, good-looking college students, so it's safe to say we were enjoying ourselves a good deal. From there we went to another barbecue to which we were invited, where we met the other roommates, although Hannah had not yet arrived. I was offered a haircut and gladly accepted, and Jade did a wonderful job, as you will see if either of my compatriots ever put up the pictures of us at the Atlantic, which I would very much like to see. Not so subtle hints aside, we then went to the only bar in town, where we were wonderfully joined by the whole gang, and had a wonderful time before going home to crash where we were able.

The following day proved no less exciting. I was unable, due to health reasons, to join everyone for breakfast, although I was told that Black River is exceptional. After a bit of lounging, we took off to a river where we swam and sunbathed and laughed and laughed. We then ate milkshakes, we then made burritos at the apartment. The funny thing about a small college town like Oberlin, is that it doesn't have the local economy to support things such as a dance club, so the university takes it upon itself to provide one for the students who so want to dance on any given night. So we decided to take advantage of this wonderous opportunity and shake our groove things to the most awful dj this side of the Mississippi. It really was horrible music, worse than a bad wedding reception (see Space Jam, the song, seriously, and Baby Got Back), but we busted sick moves nonetheless, and our respect for the roommate Andrew grew exponentially because of his ill-flavored style.

Although incredibly bittersweet, we left Oberlin on the last of our pushes, just days away from the Atlantic. As my time is winding down, I must become ever so much more brief. And do excuse the writing style, I've been reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens and can't seem to help myself from writing this way. It's obnoxious, I know. ANYways, Latrobe, Pennsylvania used to be home to Rolling Rock Brewery, we found out that it USED to be upon our arrival at a giant building that looks like a brewery. Instead of seeing our first brewery in weeks, we went to a bar, where Kelvin's ID was not accepted. After demanding the owner and pleading his case, Kelvin was victorious, rewarded with a beer, which he had to pay for. However, the owner ended up giving him a hat and t-shirt for each of us, for which we were extra large grateful. From there, big Ed made it his duty to be extra nice to us, and bought us drink after drink, until those who had offered to host us had gone home without notification, and we had to accept the first offer given us, which was by the owner of the bar, saying we could sleep on his gravel parking lot behind the bar. Kelvin fell asleep immediately, while Nate and I put together a flatbead of board underneath us, as well as one over us like a little lean-to. It was quite cozy, if not a little bit shady. But we slept through the night, and when Kelvin awoke in the night to use the wonderful restroom on the opposite fence, he thought we had left for another campsite. After realizing his error, decided to block our protective lightsource from his eyes by doing the same. Glorious, Latrobe, thanks a million.

Gettysburg was the next stop of note. Although big thanks to Pastor Rich Ralph of Bedford for letting us stay in his mini-mall children's area beside his chapel. Our old friend Haley Dillon was kind enough to contact her father for us, who lived a short ways out of Gettysburg. He was unfortunately out of town at the time, but still offered us his home. It was really amazing, and his neighbors exceedingly friendly. Their were young ones everywhere, and we had a really fun game of soccer with all of them. I've left out our experience with the hills of Pennsylvania, as well as the thousand or so motorcycles we passed that day, I guess that's a question to ask us upon our next meeting.

Our last three days brought us closer to death than any other point on this trip. But never fear, for we're obviously still alive, and not on bikes anymore, so it's all okay. First was on the third to last day, when I was cruising through an intersection as traffic was starting to get much busier around 3:30 or so. An oncoming car turned left into the busy intersection, not having seen me. I had enough time to slam on my brakes, but it was so close that the momentum sent my back tire (with all of its' weight) flying into the air. I landed on my feet and stumbled into the middle of the intersection as my back hit the ground and my chain came off. I was in a state of shock, laughing hysterically. Nate claimed he'd never seen anyone come so close to being hit by a car without being hit by a car. I found the situation hilarious, although I could feel my heart beating about 150 times a minute. The second situation came with the help of a hurricane down south. The system had moved up to Pennsylvania, and it was in fact kind enough to wait until we were on the road to start drowning us. We were riding through towns with puddles at least 5 inches deep, it was the closest to swimming and simultaneously biking that I've ever come, as the downpour was nonstop. The general response from cars was quite positive, thankfully, considering traffic has been quite heavy on this side of the Apalachians. The third situation will have to be another told over beers, as I don't think I can do it justice here, and it's been suggested to me that I omit it from the blog. Just ask about the "bright eyes" story, it's a good one.

We made it over the mountains and through the rain, and had one day to go. As I've said, traffic on this side of the mountains had been awful, but to our great luck, the last day was fantastically beautiful. Great weather, and lush green scenery. We could smell the ocean miles before we could see it. It's hard to describe our state of mind on our last day of riding. I'm feeling quite emotional as I type this, to be quite honest. It was really overwhelming to think that our adventure was coming to an end, and that I wouldn't be spending every day with my two best friends, riding our bicycles and laughing till it hurt, eating anything and everything, and getting far too drunk for a long bike ride the following day, but doing it anyways. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We finally did come upon a beach, and pushed our heavy bikes up the sandy path until we could see it. We took off our shoes as we stared in silence. I collapsed on the sand and we stared for what I believe was about two minutes, although it could have been any amount of time, I really couldn't tell you. Suddenly, Kelvin broke into a sprint towards the water, I followed without a word, with Nate thoughtfully walking behind. The two of us jumped into the crashing waves, Nate walking with arms outsretched into the warm salt water. We couldn't stop laughing, and screaming, and jumping all around. We must have been quite a scene to witness, in there, gripped in a three way hug as a wave toppled us all and caused us another laughing fit intermixed with screams of joy. After a good time of this, we went back for our bikes, picked them up, carried them to the shore, and dipped our tires in the water. Our journey was complete. After leaving the Pacific Ocean on June 20, just north of Florence, Oregon, and traveling 4386.40 miles over the Cascades, the Rockies, the Great Plains, the Missouri and the Mississippi Rivers, the Aleganies, the Apalachians, through cities, high deserts, a month of corn fields, and over the mighty Delaware. We've made it to the Atlantic Ocean. September 10, 2008.

That night brought champaigne and camping on the beach. That morning brought a majestic sunrise. That afternoon brought the true end of the trip. We brought our bikes to the UPS store, took them apart, and sent them to our respective homes. Turns out they weighed in at around 90 pounds apiece. Whoa. What followed was a bus ride, a truly surreal bus ride, to New York City. But the rest is another story in itself, and this blog was about biking (although I will say that seeing a game at Yankee Stadium was something). Kelvin is currently in Tucson, and will be arriving in Eugene one of these days. Nate is in Berkeley, and if all goes well with the visa, should be in France before the month's end. I find myself on a small organic farm in Orwell, Vermont, with plans to return to Portland, Oregon, in the near future.

I know I speak for the other guys when I offer our deepest thanks to everyone for their support and gracious gifts along the way. We could not have made it without all of the good graces of our family, friends old and new, as well as complete strangers all across the way. Certain images can't escape my mind, flying down mountainsides, seeing the summits of the next mountains on the horizon, laughing at Nate being Nate, lending Kelvin toothpaste, camping in some of the most beautiful spots west of the front range, and some of the funniest east of it, breweries and wineries, bowling alleys and bars. I can't bear to put it all into words, and am sure I would fail if I tried, but I hope soon to put it into images. Please do not remove this site from your bookmarks, as I hope to post a video of our trip in the near future. It's all really too much to bear, I don't know how I'm ever going to remember this summer without feeling like my heart is about to burst out of my chest with I don't even know what. Okay. That's really all.

Thank you for reading.