Fraser Duff - Ride across America

The End

2009-08-05T13:54:00.004+01:00

Picture this

2009-07-09T03:55:00.013+01:00

Back on the right side of the road

2009-07-02T01:54:00.005+01:00

After, what I think I can probably safely say was a well-deserved week in Miami doing absolutely nothing but be at the pool and beach, I've arrived back. For those of you I haven't spoken to directly I must say a big thank you for all the congratulatory comments, texts etc. very, very much appreciated.

Still, i couldn't quite completely relax as my arrival back in Scotland is just in time for my main cycling event of the summer on Saturday - The US trip was really all just about training for this http://www.corrieyairack.org/ as my teammates (Pete and Dave) were way too close to catching me last year. Once I'm back from it next week I'll post some more of the US pics and, hopefully, some of the videos.

Riding into the blue

2009-06-21T22:12:00.005+01:00

Day 77, Stage 53 - Palm Beach Shores to Miami
80 miles in 6hrs 20mins (incl. one bike shop trip and just snacks and
juice stops again)
Total, and final distance - 4,745 miles

"It's not in the bag. It's not in the bag. Focus. You've still got a long day to do."

I forget the exact stats but is it something like 80% of mountaineering accidents that happen on the descent. And what's the other stat about car accidents within a few miles of home. I didn't know the numbers but I sure as hell knew the principle. I would have to focus for five to six hours in the saddle like I never had before.

This wasn't over, not yet it wasn't.

I quickly had 10 miles chalked up. Still 70 to go so not walking distance yet. And I would walk if need be, of that I had no doubt. The road then turned onto the A1A along West Palm Beach and various other lush neighbourhoods. Where, in the space of the next 35 miles or so I saw more folk out cycling than I had all trip combined, easily. Speaking to a few of them (Tony, then Jim & Mike - to whom I'm grateful for the 'tow' - though I did do my share) it turned out that there'd been a few races on that morning. I was loving the double takes that we were getting from the passing racers as Mike, Jim & I sped along in a chain gang with the full set of panniers on my machine.

The cyclocomputer was showing forty one miles. Less than forty to go. "Now that's walking distance" I thought. Barring a crash, I was going to be in Miami tonight. I was relaxing a bit, but so was the rear wheel as another spoke gave up. To ride on or not? I decided to play it safe so tracked down Downtown Bicycles who quickly fixed it and almost cheered me out the door on my way down the road such was their enthusiasm. Thanks folks.

The road then climbed over the 17th Street bridge - one of the less severe climbs of the trip, but positively Matterhornesque in comparison to the 700+ miles I'd seen so far in Florida. A brief, but hairy stint along Highway 1 beside the Fort Lauderdale Airport was the last noteable obstacle before I rejoined the A1A and 'Miami Beach' appeared at the top of the gps screen. 21 straight, flat miles to go. I still couldn't relax, though, but I was almost smiling. The purple line was getting shorter though. I'd been through this 'end-of-stage' feeling over fifty times already this trip this was the same but oh so different.

'91st Street' was the first I noticed. That's when it hit me, I was in Miami. The countdown of streets felt almost as slow as that of the miles into Perry in Sunday during the 189 mile day but it was excitement today. 59th, 45th, 34th. I was anxiously glancing in my mirror looking for that car/truck/bus that could ruin everything. But, thankfully, there was'nt one.

The road took me round one more corner ... I looked up to the glorious sight of the sunshine on my hotel ... I was there, and couldn't quite believe it.

I pulled off the road and just stood there looking in awe at it for several minutes before moving on to cut a tyre-width furrow in the white sands of the Beach as I pushed past the bathers and into the beautifully warm Atlantic water.

The hotel staff were, I think, a bit puzzled as I pulled up outside coated in sweat, salt, sea and sand.

"Hi, I'm checking in"
"Ok sir. If you just bring your bike in here. Where are you riding
from?"
"Seattle"
Silence

I unpacked the bike for the last time, got into my hotel room, sat
down, switched the tv, then I realised, there was no need to find the
Weather Channel....

.....it was over.

Riding into the blue

2009-06-21T21:07:00.000+01:00

I...

..have arrived :)

Touching distance

2009-06-21T20:24:00.003+01:00

Day 76, Stage 53 - Cocoa Beach to Palm Beach Shores
129 miles in 8hrs 40mins (incl. a nostalgic Subway stop and an awful lot of juice and water stops) Total Distance - 4,665 miles
I was feeling very, very uneasy at the start of this, the penultimate stage. The length of the stage, at some 120+ miles, didn't bother me that much but it was that I was so close that I knew I'd be continually battling with myself not to switch into wind-down mode and, if I did, and then anything went wrong, I'd likely seriously struggle to get myself going again.

The day started fast and early and before long I realised I needed refueling so pulled over to buy my last Subway of the trip. It tasted the same as the others but the nerves meant it didn't sit well. The road continued almost dead-flat for mile after mile and I was soon regreting having called an early end to yesterday's stage, leaving me so much to do today. My mood was lifted, though as I caught site of the arched back of a dolphin swimming in one of the bay inlets.

However, with no iPod, and the roads so flat and straight it was small relief from the nervous tedium. The only other memorable (and I mean memorable in a bad way) sight in the first hundred miles was the first of a new chain of gas station that I hadn't seen before 'Hess'. I'd suggest some corporate rebeanding might be in order.

I rolled on. Only a mechanical can stop me know, I'd been thinking, then I crunched to a halt as the chain strangely entangled, twisting the front gear mech. A quick bit of 'cold-setting' (i.e. kicking it) thankfully got it back into working shape. Next to go, though, was the rear tyre. Not a puncture but as I pulled away from traffic lights I realised that, in stopping at them, a three-inch strip of rubber had delaminated from the tyre. Not drastic but I'd have to glue it back on at the end if the stage in 15 miles (now I knew I'd carried that tube of superglue all the way across the continent for a good reason). Then, a few miles later, the now all-too-familiar sound of a spoke giving up shot through the air. That was three mechanicals in the space of 15 miles. I couldn't get to the end of the stage and off the road quick enough.

In hindsight, though I should have stayed on the bike for a bit longer. I had done reasonably well to have avoided any real motel nightmares all trip, but that was about to change. The thunderclouds were drifting towards me as I'd ridden around for 20 mins trying to find somewhere to stay so, in fear of getting wet I reluctantly decieded this place would do. I'll post a pic once I get the chance (now there), but just take my word for it, it was comically bad (for those of you who lived there, it reminded me of Temple Park Crescent, only worse). Still, I was chuckling as I knew where I'd be staying the next night in Miami and this place provided such a marvellous contrast it was hilarious.

What wasn't hilarious was when I realised that the spare spokes I'd sought out the night before in Cocoa Beach were not the length I'd asked for.

I was way too tired for the excitement of knowing it was the last day tomorrow to keep me awake so I fell asleep on the sofa, with worrying dreams of breaking spokes the next day.

Chasing Shadows

2009-06-18T23:16:00.003+01:00

Day 75, Stage 51 - Sanford to Cocoa Beach
70 miles in 4hrs 30mins (just one quick juice stop)
Total distance - 4,536miles
The iPhone has been threatening to crash for about half the trip since the WiFi failed on it about six weeks ago, lost 90% of my songs a week ago, and I'm now just sitting looking at a blank screen - but, hey, as the advert says, apple products are ultra-reliable. Hmmm!

Hence, i'm logged on to some ridiculously expensive terminal here in the Holiday Inn in Cocoa Beach. No pic today I'm afraid as I can't hook the camera up to it.

Anyway, the start this morning was later than planned as I realised I'm still clearly feeling the effects of the two monster days followed by the mosquito night. Still, today was to be a short day as I discovered last night that there was a rocket launch planned this evening from Cape Kennedy (or whichever cape) so i'd decided to only go as far as here then watch the launch in the evening. Things were mercifully cooler as i set out, only the high 80's, and still humid, as I set out in search of the Atlantic coast. Thankfully the wind was as forecast for the first time in three days, giving me a tailwind as I sped along watching with glee as the the gps screen began to fill with blue. At the town of Mims I made what will be the last meaningful turn of the trip onto Highway 1A which I'll be sticking on all the way to Miami. Within the next few hundred yards I then passed Parker Street followed by Nichols Road. Those of you who worked with me in Finance at Lehmans should understand why I was fully expecting to turn the next corner and find Trouble Court. And within a mile or so I was, indeed, stopped by one of the local Sheriffs who was actually only enquiring if I'd seen some dodgy looking some cycling the other way. The look on his face when I told him where I'd ridden from was by far the best so far.

The wind was well and truly behind me but I hadn't really eaten enough so it was a tiring final 30 miles as I tried desperately to stay in the cool shadows of the passing clouds. The only highlight of that stint was passing the office building with the sign outside stating 'Executive Centre of the Church of God'. I was oh so tempted to to knock on the the door and ask to speak to the boss.

I trundled around Cocoa Beach seeking a bike shop where I picked up yet more spare spokes - here's hoping the last of the trip. Then went out to watch the launch which was, err, an underwhelming sight to say the least. Though the noise was much more impressive as it even managed to drown out the chants of 'USA' coming from the hyperactive schoolkids on the beach. Still, it was an experience and I'd rather have seen it than not.

This has, however, left me a rather long 120mile stage tomorrow so signing off for an early start.

A time for reflection? Not quite.

2009-06-18T00:05:00.001+01:00

Day 74, Stage 50 - Silver Springs to Sanford
74 miles in 4hrs 55 mins
Total distance - 4,466 miles
Starting on the final 300+ mile leg this morning I had to work very hard to bring my focus back to today's stage, reminding myself I still had 70 miles to do today which would likely take some five hours in +90F humidity. While it may seem like everything is done and dusted, I've still got a lot of work to do.

One thing I thought I'd do though is reflect on some of the more amusing/perplexing signs and quotes I've seem and heard over here.

"100% ethanol-free gas" - actually quite a common sign, generally in the less civilized parts of the world

"Environmentally friendly gun oil" - Huh?!

"5 Hour Energy with zero calories" - Now I'm no scientist but.... Hang on, yes I am.

"Jesus saves. Obama spends." - yeah, the more I think about that one the more it scared me.

Sarah Palin - "She is a woman without a first language" - enough said.

Anyway, I've got the Atlantic Ocean beckoning tomorrow and, all going to plan I should be arriving into Miami around midday local time on Saturday.

Running out of gas

2009-06-17T05:14:00.003+01:00

Day 73 - in the pursuit of air conditioning
The inside of the tent was smeared with streaks of blood, my blood mixed with that of the many mosquitos that, at my hands, had had an even worse night than I had. There was no way I could do another night like that so I packed up the tent for the last time and rolled three miles down the road to one of the nearby motels, exhausted. As the weather developed during the day I was glad I was indoors with the early afternoon heat climbing to the high 90's but with the humidity
making it feel nearer 105 on the Weather Channel's 'heat index'. Thankfully the weather broke in the early evening bringing the severe storm warnings flashing up on the tv. I sat inside listening to the downpour cooking the last of my freeze-dried meals, in not the most glamorous of locations as the pic shows.

My attention then switched to my back tyre. Now one thing I failed to mention about the two long days I just did was the malfunctioning back wheel (the one I picked up in Jackson, MS). Having replaced another rear spoke in Destin when I put the tyre back on, try as I might, I
couldn't get it to sit properly on the rim (I tried switching tyres, but it was the rim). As a result it was running somewhat egg-shaped which was severe enough to make it feel like l was getting a small kick in the @rse every time it went round. Now, the wheel circumference is just over 2 metres and I'd just done over 300 miles on it. That makes for around 200,000 kicks in the butt. Uncomfortable and irritating in more ways than one. I'd managed to get this far without any saddle sores (amazing really), but I knew that wouldn't last another four days of @rse-kicking. After an hour of inflation/deflation cycles I finally managed to get it running true. Part of me was immensely relieved.

Slaying the rat

2009-06-16T11:41:00.004+01:00

The warm and tranquil green water of the Gulf sea lapping against the dazzlingly white sand on which I lay basked in sun should have made for a serene relaxing afternoon on Saturday in Destin. However, it was gnawing away in my head. Not getting the triple century clocked up into Vicksburg due to the broken hub had been the source of small, but growing irritation, and let's face it, I'd had plenty of time to think about it over the previous few days.

I didn't want the trip just to fade out into the series of mediocre length stages I'd planned. I really wanted to try and put a marker in the sand, to try to see just what I was capable of and where the past two months had got me. I had penciled in four days to get, via Tallahassee, to Silver Springs. But I could do that in three, I thought. Could I do it in two, though? Over three hundred miles in two days? Yeah, I'd take that as a more than adequate marker.

The roads were flat, the wind was forecast to be a 15 mph tailwind, I was rested, massaged and very well fed. It would still be an enormous ask but if you don't try...

PART 1
Day 71, Stage 48 - Destin to Perry 189 miles in 11hrs 50mins (numerous muffin and juice stops again)

Total distance - 4,267 miles

There was a light breeze pushing me along the early, smooth and quiet miles during which I veered with glee into the mist of the morning sprinklers until mile 10 when my first cycling 'prey' since Albuquerque, 1,500 miles ago turned onto the road a few hundred yards ahead. This guy looked serious, but catchable at a push, which he was after a couple of tough miles. I think he (Steve) felt less surprised and hurt when I explained just how far I'd ridden to get into his
slipstream. We raced along, my legs burning, until I thankfully turned off the highway 98 to take the bridge across the unpronounceable Choctawhatchee Bay (I think I spent about the next 10 miles trying work it out and am still probably wrong).

I turned onto highway 20, the sign read 116 miles to Tallahassee, I was looking at going well beyond that. So then, I switched off.....out of self preservation I had to. A few times during the early miles up to that sign I'd momentarily thought about what I was looking at attempting in day and I actually couldn't quite cope with the scale of it. So, for the next five hours up til I stopped at another garage after 115 miles I put myself in an almost trance, just staring at the road, turning the pedals and not thinking. Take me back to those roads and I'm sure I wouldn't recognize any of them. However, I was snapped out of the trance as I sat looking round the garage. This place looks familiar, I was thinking to myself - an awful lot like the garage where Top Gear had their infamous decorated cars incident. It probably wasn't, but I was dressed in Lycra, was not 'from round there' so wasn't sticking around to investigate.

It was well above 90F, and had been since the early morning. The air was still with the promised tailwind having seemingly wilted in the early morning heat and, try as I might, I couldn't get back into my trance.

70, 60.
50. 47.
45.
42.

39.

Tortuous.

35,
30,

Straight, flat, dull roads
20,

19.5
18.7

'why hasn't it clouded over? It was forecast to cloud over'

15,
11.

Hellish

9, 7

'why do you do these things to yourself Fraser?'

6.4, 5.1, 4.8, 4, 2, traffic lights, junction

Mo, tel

When I finally collapsed gasping into the room just after 7pm the Weather Channel was showing 89F, but with a heat index (i.e. Humidity adjusted) of 97F, even at that late hour. I literally staggered into the Italian restaurant next door to refuel on a infusion of pasta and celebrate my achievement.

She was polite and very apologetic
'Sorry but we can't sell beer on a Sunday'

'Ah cr@p!

PART 2

Day 72, Stage 49 - Perry to Silver Springs
125 miles in 8hrs 40mins (muffins & juice again and the first packet of salt & vinegar crisps I've seen all trip - a joyous moment)
Total distance - 4,392 miles
I was tired, but not as much as I expected to be. Thankfully it was to be a shorter day today with a mere 120+ miles and a tailwind forecast again. Yeah, a short day I was telling myself. Nope, I didn't really believe it. The first 40 miles into Cross City were memorable only for my first sight of one of the ferrel pigs you lot in Seattle were warning me about.

Another 20 miles on a converted railway track (see pic) gave me about my only shade of the two days and took me to the halfway point for the day. Here I accidentally purchased my second bottle of diet juice of the whole trip (the first error had been just three hours earlier).

I pressed on, the NW'erly tailwind hadn't arrived and was threatening to turn into a NNE'erly. I was struggling and craving salt so you can only imagine my joy when the tiny garage I stopped in next had a large bag salt & vinegar crisps on the shelf. I instantly opened the bag, scrunched the bag to a pulp, and almost drank the dry salty chips. It was enough to get me to painful last 20 miles to the Silver Springs Campsite.

20 hrs 30 mins in the saddle over two days posting a total of 314 miles. The sand was well and truly marked...and the gnawing had stopped...

...But, little did I know it, the toughest challenge had just begun.

I was showered, the tent was pitched my dinner was cooked and eaten. I was going to sleep, lots. The mosquitoes were out and while they were easily the worst I've experienced, they weren't a patch on a normal midge-filled night in the Highlands of Scotland. They were getting worse so I retreated into the tent, zipped it up, and then torture began. The tent isn't the best for condensation and letting in fresh air but in the 85F saturated air, with my metabolism running a touch below a nuclear furnace, it was absolutely suffocating - I think I know what it's like to be a boil in the bag meal. The sweat was pouring off me and within 15 mins, there was a sizable pool of water collected along the edge of the tent. Opening the zip to let in 'fresh' air, just let in a cloud of bugs to feast off me. For the first time since the first hot day out of Ferndale, California, I was facing something that I wasn't sure I could get through. This was tougher than anything I'd faced all trip. No, seriously!

I poured the water out the tent semi-chuckling at the old sleeping-hand-in-lukewarm-water trick that I knew I was going to play on my self if I wasn't careful. I couldn't take it so I dressed and paced around outside for about an hour waving the mozzies away, then realised I'd stopped sweating. Totally stopped sweating - not good. So I poured litres of water over and into me then tried again to sleep. Melted again. Paced around again, listening to the drone of the small creatures in the forest and the occasional crash and grunt of some of the bigger ones. Then I heard the snort of something that sounded very big - I definitely wasn't sleeping, especially as I'd not taken any real 'bear care' in cooking and storing my food as I'd not realised I was anywhere near their territory. A quick check on the web and I found I was. I'd ditched the bear spray in Arizona so was suddenly very worried. Perhaps a hasty move

The temperature slowly dropped and I finally passed out at 5am before waking before 9am as the sun began to cook me in my little green nylon bubble.

The rat was no more.

Effing bears here, I've just discovered

2009-06-16T05:45:00.001+01:00

Sent from my iPhone

Too humid - iPhone screen playing up

2009-06-16T02:55:00.000+01:00

125 miles doNe rest tomorrow proper post then

Sent from my iPhone

Turning the nitrous switch to 'on'

2009-06-15T01:19:00.002+01:00

So much in sports is all about statistics and records so, no photo today, little in the way of words, I'm just going to let the numbers below do the talking - and they're going to have to cause I ain't got any energy left to.

Day 71, Stage 48 - Destin to Perry
189 miles in 11hrs 50 mins
Total distance - 4,267 miles

Feed me!

2009-06-14T00:37:00.002+01:00

Day 70 - Relaxation day
I'm off for a massage then out to the beach but before I do I thought I'd post this 'cure' I found for my Tourette's during the 'dull' day in Eastern Arizona.

State, of play

2009-06-13T03:09:00.004+01:00

Day 69, Stage 47 - Mobile to Destin
122 miles in 8hrs 45mins (just muffin, juice and water stops again)
Total distance - 4,078 miles
I didn't realise how much I'd missed being beside the water until I saw Mobile Bay yesterday. So, with the forecast being for a tasty tailwind I had drawn up a new route last night to take me down and along the Gulf coast.

The day started off with a far-from-picturesque few miles through the Mobile dockyards, breathing copious amounts of oil fumes as I looped north to take the bridge over the bay (a certain Mark Beaumont kindly checked out the route for me last year and discovered the other main routes across the bay on the maps are tunnels). Moored in the middle of the bay is the US Alabama which I stopped to take a pic of, but then quickly got going again as I caught site of a large pair of reptilian eyes and nostrils in the water ahead of me - my first, and I hope last, gator of the trip. The wind had already arrived and I sped along the road a mere 3ft above the water
(though the gps was saying 93ft) until reaching Spanish Fort on the far side of the bay. By then the sweat was already pouring off me as the temperature and humidity were continuing to climb. Thankfully, the wind was more cooling than I expected as the miles ticked up to hit 4,000 around the village of Seminole before the next, more meaningful milestone a few miles later as I left the Alabamians behind (Alabammers would be a considerably more fun name!) and crossed the state line into Florida emblazoned with an enormous grin - that 'home-straight' feeling is certainly beginning to grow.

A loop round Pensecola took me to a nervy four mile bridge crossing to Gulf Breeze which was certainly living up to it's name. Thankfully the breeze was blowing almost straight along the coast, precisely the way I was going. Here I made one of the best decisions of the trip as,
rather than continue on the Highway 98, I took the 399 onto the Santa Rosa Island sand bar. This was an awesome smooth, ultra-fast, quiet road which the pic only partially captures. It was the light that was perhaps most impressive as the sun reflecting off the narrow band of white sand stretching out miles ahead gave the sky a delicate but definite glow where I was heading. I even enjoyed the continual dive-bombing that the local sea-birds were doing to me as I raced past (well, I enjoyed their diving, I was less keen on the 'bombing' they were doing). One of the most surreal things about this place was the broken bits of tarmac scattered around the beach from the last time a storm surge engulfed this place. And in a way that added to the beauty of the place. While I'd seen plenty of places where the ocean was eating away at the coast on my way down the Pacific Highway, there was at least the knowledge that all that will happen there with the advancing waters of global warming is that another few dozen yards of land will fall into the ocean, still leaving a cliff, or headland of some sort. However, down here, with nothing much more than 20ft above the sea, it's all just going to vanish.

Unfortunately this road then ran out sending me back onto the Highway 98, which is apparently known round here as the 'Red Road', and that ain't because of the political hue of the Florida Panhandle which it passes through. I'll be leaving it very soon along the next stage.

Arriving in Destin I headed for the Henderson campsite only to pass the 'twice voted the US' best state campsite' sign - It was full so have ended up in one of the local hotels.

Its so appealing here I've changed my plans to take a rest day here which is much required after today's long, hot day.

Welcome to my world

2009-06-12T04:08:00.000+01:00

Straight & Narrow

2009-06-12T04:06:00.002+01:00

Day 68, Stage 46 - Hattiesburg to Mobile
98 miles in 6hrs 10mins (just muffins & juice stops again)
Total distance - 3,956 miles
So much for the early start I'd planned this morning to beat the heat. I had no real right to be tired today after yesterday's short stage but I definitely was so the 6.15 alarm was switched off, and again, and again until I finally surfaced at 8.30 to get on the road at 9.15. It was already hot but I'd pumped up the tyres last night to rock-like pressures and the wind was essentially behind me. While things weren't likely to be easy, they should at least be quick.

And they were, helped yet again by the playlist of tunes I've programmed into the iPhone. In hindsight I perhaps shouldn't have put all up tempo tracks on playlist as, no matter how much I tell myself to take it easy, I can't help but pedal that little bit faster when the next tune comes on.

As for the scenery today, beside spotting the sign in the pic (which I was delighted to see, though perhaps not the wording), I honestly could have been cycling past 50 miles of fields filled with cancanning cows and I wouldn't have noticed as for most of the day I had to be totally focussed on riding along a narrow 6"-18" strip of grey between the 3" drop at the edge of the tarmac and the rutted grooves ground into the road at the side of the lanes. Mentally an extremely tiring ride. Things got even worse the minute the road crossed the state line into Alabama as the four lanes went down to two - I just pedalled on and hoped all the way down to Mobile docks and the rather ugly, but beatiful sight to me of no land on the horizon as I reached the Gulf of Mexico.

In the absence of seeing anything to write about today I thought I'd briefly write about the weather. I'd heard so many horror stories about the heat and humidity here I'd been quite worried. It was another 90F day and while the conditions are draining, I have to say I'm finding the cycling a lot more bearable than the ultra-dry heat of the east-coast desert stages.

One last point to ponder. How are people from Alabama known? Are they Alabammers, or is that just bin laden and his crew?

Take a look down the railtrack, from Miami to Canada (well almost)

2009-06-10T23:20:00.005+01:00

Day 67, Stage 45 - Prentiss to Hattiesburg
43 miles in 3hrs 15 mins (only picture stops)
Total distance - 3,858 miles
A delightfully short stage today down the dead quiet converted old railway line into Hattiesburg with only a tortoise, some llama, donkeys and a couple of ostriches for company. If anything it was perhaps too short as it turned out to be mighty difficult to motivate myself for such a short trip but the lure of finding a laundry managed to drive me on.

Managed to track down a bike shop here (the Hattiesburg Bicycle Center) who very kindly retrued the rear wheel for free. Very much appreciated.

Looking forward to an early start tomorrow and a near on 100 mile run back to be beside water again as I head down the road to the Gulf of Mexico.

It's a sign...

2009-06-10T06:14:00.003+01:00

Day 66, Stage 44 - Vicksburg to Prentiss
102 miles in 7hrs 50mins (incl. just muffins and juice stops once again)
Total distance - 3,815 miles
...all I was thinking was 'No it's not. Can I please get going?' I was being tag-teamed but more on that later.

Even when I set off at just after nine this morning the air already had a warm viscous feel to it. Not unpleasant but enough to mean that really pushing it was out the question.

Things weren't just physically draining but there was the mental drain of the logging trucks again, especially given the lack of any shoulder lane here which really wasn't fun. The bike was also worrying me as well as I wasn't entirely convinced the new rear wheel was the best built piece of kit. And after a pitiful 30 miles my fears were confirmed as it had already started to develop a slight wobble and by the time I stopped for muffins after 40 miles it was stuffed necessitating a lengthy rebuild. This time it wasn't Tourette's - for a very brief moment I was actually angry. I'm of the view that anger isn't a very useful emotion so I decided to channel it into aggression that I was going to take out on the pedals of the bike, driving them round and me down the the road. Which I did as I continued on repeatedly checking my mirror for what was on it's way down the road. But when I looked back ahead this time, while it was a straight road I was heading straight off it at 20 mph. My years of cycling have taught me that the best course of action is don't turn, don't panic and hit the brakes slowly. It was a heck of a rough ride but I came to a dusty and bumpy stop still on the bike which was surprisingly unscathed. I sheepishly got back on the tarmac which was a fantastically quick surface as it had recently been resurfaced. A few miles down the road I was held up at a one mile stretch that was down to one lane due to it being resurfaced. I was let through by the flagman at my end, but so was the traffic at the other end. Now I've unintentionally played chicken with a van many years ago. However, this time I could see it coming so I switched across into the tarred lane and cycled through the gloop which was slow-going but not half as slow-going as when the coating of tar on my tyres picked up a layer of stones, a lot of which are still there.

But it was the next one-lane section where the tragicomedy for the day unfolded. I was stopped by the flagman so was chatting to him when his colleague pulled up in a pickup.

"Have you seen a deer like this size before?" He asked waving a picture of him with a mounted stag's head.

A proud hunting man, I obviously reasoned. Fair enough. I'll be on my way soon enough once the flagman turns the sign.

"Tell me. Do you know Jesus?" He then asked. And, out of either amusement or Christian duty his friend wasn't turning that sign.

Don't get me wrong. He was a perfectly nice, well-meaning bloke but the, what felt like well over five minutes before the sign was finally turned was up there as one of the most mentally tortuous moments of the trip.

Bite, lip, resist, fish, barrel. Don't Fraser, just don't.

I didn't. Even despite the astonishingly misguided interpretation of the big bang theory that he gave. As I stood there I was half listening to him but also half listening to the tunes coming out of my unplugged earphones, desperately hoping that the next song it skipped to wasn't the Depeche Mode classic, 'Blasphemous Rumours'. As I finally rode on I was very nervously looking over my shoulder just on the slim chance he was going to try to prove his "are you ready to face god if you're run over on the rest of your cycle trip?" point.

On the topic of misguided messages. I spotted this one a couple of days ago outside one church. I was ending myself when I cycled past it.

I arrived in Monticello which I didn't much like the look of so decided to push on to clock up another century to the start of the Longleaf cycle track at Prentiss.

One small issue is that, with all the running around yesterday to get the new wheel, I didn't have time to do any laundry, and despite much searching I haven't been able to find one tonight. 'highly aromatic' is probably the best way to describe my room tonight.

M I S S I S S I'm a bit P'd off

2009-06-09T05:40:00.001+01:00

Day 65 - Reflection day
Not much, but the triple century was the last real 'little' cycling milestone that I'd set myself on the trip so to have worked so hard at it only for the bike to stop me short has made for a slight air of disappointment today. Still, trying to stay positive I managed to get a new wheel today in Jackson so I'm all set to go tomorrow morning and I also just found out that there's a 40+ mile cycle track that I'll be able to take on Wednesday which is something to look forward to.

The bike fixing has meant that I've had very little time today to see the town here which is a real shame as it looks an interesting part of the world with the ominous vast dark bulk of the Mississippi slowing gliding through and past the banks on which are filled with relics from the US Civil War (worringly some of the locals apparently still refer to it as 'the war of northern aggression'). All this is mixed together in the hot and oppressively humid air which is still almost too warm as I sitting out on the veranda of the excellent Bell of the Bends B&B having watched the sunset over the river and now listening to nature's white noise as the air fills with the calls of seemingly millions of unseen creatures.

Man vs Bike: 2-0 to me

2009-06-08T04:56:00.002+01:00

Day 64, Stage 43 - Farmerville to Delhi
70 miles in 5hrs 25mins (incl. a few muffin stops and a couple of
miles of pushing)
Total Distance - 3,713 miles (yesterday's total was 10 too high)
It was in the bag. I felt considerably better this morning than yesterday. Still very sore but that 'Friday feeling' of it being the last stage before a rest day was going to get me through the day. The only thing that could stop me clocking up the triple century was some major mechanical issue, I thought as I rolled out across the bridge into the already warm and humid morning air. No, don't think that Fraser, I told myself. A slight headwind and the last of the rolling hills before hitting the flats of the delta plains made for a slowish start but after 35 miles I was muffined up and all set to rejoin the interstate for the 65 mile run onto Vicksburg on the east bank of the Mississippi. I'd barely got started though when the twang of metal fatigue rang through the air. A spoke finally going I assumed as, I'll be honest, I'd been quite amazed that said spokes had held up quite so well given the abuse I'd been putting them through, particularly in light of the numerous spoke breakages and wheel rebuilds the old machine had on the way down the pacific coast. So I'd expected these new lighter weight wheels to spit out spokes for fun, hence the large quantities of spares I was carrying. I jumped off the bike to survey the damage. The spokes were all ok but when I set off again there was a definite wobble. Surely not another frame. Nope, it was fine, but as you can see from the pic, the hub was far from so as those star bits should be attached to that round bit. Cr@p! I was sixty miles from Vicksburg, and six miles from the nearest exit. Could I still ride it though? Only three and a half of the six bits were broken so I might as well try. What was the worst that could happen? Well the other bits could suddenly shear off sending me headlong in front of a truck. So, I figured I might as well try. And I could ride it albeit not on the interstate as a state trooper stopped to inform me. It was five miles to the nearest small town on the side road so I rode on. It was now down to two out of four and the next town was a further 16 miles away. If you don't at least try you're bound to fail, I thought. It managed another 15 miles of gentle riding with me standing putting as much weight as possible of the front wheel before number five snapped. There was no point in carrying on on the one remaining as it was bound to fail in a few miles. There was no sign of any of the pickup trucks stopping that I tried to hitch a lift from as I pushed into the town of Delhi and reluctantly, but out of necessity, called a taxi to take me the final 35 miles of the stage out of Louisiana and across the Mississippi into state number twelve

The bad news didn't stop there though as the bike shop that I thought was here isn't any more. As a result I've got a number of options but the most appealing is looking to hire a car tomorrow and run into Jackson to try and pick up a new wheel there.

But on the bright side, I was due a rest day here and much, much more importantly it ain't 'dry' here, cause I need a drink.

Take me to your dealer

2009-06-07T03:43:00.002+01:00

Day 63, Stage 42 - Hope to Farmerville
114 miles in 9hrs 40mins (incl. just several snack and juice stops)
Total Distance - 3,653 miles
I think I considerably underestimated the state of Arkansas - both how pleasantly scenic it would be but also how hilly that scenery would be. Not major hills at all but seemingly endless of those short 30-50ft rolling hills that are probably mostly too small to have registered on the mapping software I used when planning the trip. Much tougher than I expected.

I felt ok this morning, not great but I figured I'd feel better once I got the pedals spinning. But after about 10 miles things didn't improve, if anything they'd got worse and I was back to that feeling of heavy eyelids. The decline continued over the next few miles so I decided it was time for chemical stimulants for only the second time on the trip. Given the only other time I succumbed to caffeine was on the stage into Ferndale when I ended up violently sick I wasn't keen on taking this option but, today, drugs were 'necessary'. Therefore, a can of Red Bull would be purchased at the next shop I passed. And then started my search for a 'dealer' of said beverage. However there was nothing. Not a lack of Red Bull, a lack of shops. None until I reached the village of, eh, Village, after 50 miles. I was tired, hungry and for the first time since the 'dull' day through Eastern Arizona, I was worrying about whether I had enough daylight to get me where I was planning on going. Still, I was moving onto a more major road for the next 20+ miles into El Dorado so I expected a faster road. But it was anything but as the shoulder lane was rough, filled with gravel and slow. Halfway along I stopped to chat with a group of local cyclists - the first cyclists I've seen since leaving Albuquerque 1,000 miles ago! I pressed on past the city of El Dorado, sipping on Red Bull as I went onto yet another state line as I crossed into Louisiana and finally onto the city of Farmerville just before seven.

Now I just need to get some sleep then do it all again tomorrow as I try for a hat-trick of century rides.

I believe in a place called Hope

2009-06-06T04:36:00.001+01:00

Day 62, Stage 41- Mena to Hope
110 miles in 8hrs 30mins (incl. two punctures but only a brief few
muffin stops)
Total Distance - 3,529 miles
It hadn't been a bad dream, it had really happened. I still couldn't believe it when I finally woke this morning. No beer! Understandably, I was happy to be moving on this morning, albeit a couple of hours later than planned - yesterday had obviously tired me out more than I thought.

It was near perfect conditions as I set out; around 25C with no wind and not a cloud in the sky, and things essentially stayed that way all day. Things weren't quite as quick as I was expecting as the stages was filled with a lot more 50-100ft climb/descent stints than I'd expected. It also included one totally unexpected wall-like 200ft climb into Umpire that almost became the first hill all trip to get me off my bike and pushing. But, with a struggle, I made it. Scenery-wise, it was just like being back in Washington again with quiet roads winding through trees, lots of trees, and where there's trees there's logging trucks. Lots of logging trucks.

The trees gave way to lush dairy pasture in the latter miles, which then gave way to caravans - thousands and thousands and thousands of FEMA caravans and mobile homes just outside Hope. Quite a surreal sight.

I finally arrived in Hope around six and headed straight for the various Bill Clinton houses and sights dotted around town. Love him or hate him you can't help but be amazed and inspired that he got where he did given how and where things started for him.

On a different topic, I was delighted to switch on the Weather Channel to discover that, after four weeks of chasing shadows, the Vortex 2 team today finally got themselves a major tornado to track. I think I must have been the only person watching for the past few weeks who's been wishing for them not to have anything to chase. But, now I'm out The Alley I'm more than happy if it all goes funnel-shaped.

Need to get myself some sleep now, I'm afraid, as another 110+ mile day on the cards...with a slight headwind...and 90F.

King of the Roads?

2009-06-05T04:17:00.001+01:00

Day 61, Stage 40 - Talihina to Mena
64 miles in 7hrs 10 mins (with only snack stops)
Total Distance - 3,419miles
Today basically started well, then got better and better.

Firstly, apologies for the investment chat in the next bit but its been an important 'hobby' for me while I've been on the road. As with so many weekdays on the trip I awoke early and couldn't resist checking up on my Bloomberg app. to see how the little hedge fund (and I mean little!) that I've been keeping going since just before I left was doing. After two of it's poorest days in quite some time on Tues & Wed I was a touch worried. Today, though, was a very good day, taking it up through the 50% return on invested capital since it was 'founded' at the end of Feb (and for the finance folk amongst you, that's not just from playing the market rally as it's been broadly market neutral on a beta-adjusted basis - though, obviously cause it's been working it's become a bit net long so the long Sanofi position got trimmed down today - and yes, that's yet another Sanofi trade I've made money on Messers Gestrin and Baker). Excited and delighted I couldn't get back to sleep, especially given the stage that lay ahead.

Now back to the cycling - As I set off at nine, the clouds looked thicker than I expected, especially over the ridge I was heading for. Before leaving Talihina I got confirmed what I'd heard - there was no food or even water stops all the way along the stage until a dozen miles short of Mena. As a result the panniers were promptly filled with large quantities of juice, water and snacks making the bike the heaviest it's been since the 'death' stage out of Vegas to Kingman. But I was in no rush what-so-ever. Today way about enjoying the journey on what was to be my last day of big climbing for the trip with over 5,000ft vs the average 1,000ft days that lie ahead into Miami. I slowly covered the 9 miles to the start of the Talimena Scenic Byway and paused for a moment to take a few pics beside the 'Warning: Gradients of 13% Next 21 Miles' sign. This was going to be a challenging but fun day.

The road promptly went steeply upwards and I more than happily ground the gears round realizing that I was, perhaps strangely, really enjoying it. The road was empty with the first traffic I saw being a coyote trotting along a hundred yards up ahead. Then, a matter of seconds later, a roadrunner shot across the concrete into the trees. Couldn't have scripted it better. That was my only company for the first hour or so until I reached the first summit of the ridge when I was passed by two bikers just as the road dropped away as steeply as it had gone up which made for a 35-40mph two mile chase of the motorised wheels. I guessed they must have been surprised to see me still in their mirrors at the end of the descent and, when I bumped into them hours later, they confirmed they had been. That first taste of the ultra fast, steep and winding downhills had definitely been at the borderline of control and at the top of every descent for the rest of the day I had a feeling if nervous anticipation about what was down round the next corner, and more importantly, whether I could make it round it.

And this was the story of the day; insanely steep, but just ridable climbs (such as the pic), mad descents and a rolling road through the trees along the ridge complete with the pleasantly overwhelming aroma of the newly cut verge. The regular viewpoints dealt up spectacular views despite the still overcast skies and poor visibility. I was absolutely loving it and coasted along just enjoying the ride, in as little a rush as I've been all trip. More than once I found myself briefly wanting a puncture so the day would continue on for longer. The near solitude continued for hours as I looked on to see the vast expanse of trees with only what looked like the occasional brush stroke of grey through it that was the road ahead.

After five delightful hours I cycled across the state line out of Oklahoma into the tenth state of my trip, Arkansas before zipping down into the town of Mena

I was even asking myself the question; Is this the best road of the trip? I have to say it's definitely up there. And I imagine that on a cool, crisp early autumn morning when the colours on the endless views of trees are turning I think it would be top of my list. Somewhere that, without hesitation, I'd definitely come back to, but know that, in reality, I almost certainly won't. If you're ever in the area, though, take the detour.

On a different subject, though, I've just discovered I've made a gargantuan error in my planning. Having done my laundry and with three consecutive century days lying ahead I decided it was time to unleash the buffet ninja in me once more and just hope I don't have another 'Lemond moment' tomorrow. I walked into the Chinese restaurant and took a seat....

Waitress "Can I get you a drink sir?"
Me "Yes, a beer please"
Waitress "ah, what was that sir?"
Me "Just a beer of some sort please"
This brought nervous laughter from said waitress followed by "Eh, this is a dry county, sir"

Stunned, silence; feather, knock down

And I thought I'd been speechless when I saw the Grand Canyon! I know I was going slowly today but didn't realise I'd been going 'backwards'. I honestly didn't know that anywhere left in the civilised world that was 'dry'. I thought that whole experiment was pretty convincingly proved to be a failure about 80 years ago. All of a sudden I'm very suspicious of this place. And let's be honest we know why it's dry, and in my book any belief system that results in you not being able to have a beer is seriously suspect.

Looks like tomorrow I shall be setting off in search of an Ice Cold in Arkansas.

A beautiful day under skies of gray

2009-06-04T02:49:00.001+01:00

Day 60, Stage 39 - Holdenville to Talihina
101 miles in 6hrs 50mins (incl. one non-Subway footlong sub - a poor imitation)
Total Distance - 3,355 miles
It was a restless night last night as the thunderstorms that started at 9pm continued to roll around til at least 4am depositing copious quantities of rain which wasn't falling quietly. The rain was still coming down heavily at 6am so I checked the radar loop on Weather Channel which suggested it would likely move on in an hour-or-so, but was being followed by another band of rain about 50 miles behind. I went back to sleep with the idea being to set off into the wedge of dryness when it passed overhead - if this plan worked I figured I'd have the right to feel suitably pleased with myself all day.

Setting off just before nine I could see the rain falling way up the road ahead and the clouds behind me looked like they weren't keen on staying airborne. But I was dry and I stayed that way through the first 25 miles through lush, damp green tree-lined fields. I pedalled on happily smug then realised that the cows in the field I'd just passed were all lying down, as were those in the next field, and the one after that. The dark clouds had almost caught me and the cows knew what was coming. But the road was turning to take me across and away from the rain if I was lucky (and fast enough). I was both and reached McAlester around noon where the inferior sub was consumed. The road then rolled on through more of the same green and pleasant land under heavy skies the morning had taken me through.

All day I had to continually avoid the innumerable armadillo remains yet again today but thankfully I actually saw some live wildlife crossing the road today including a deer, a tortoise (which I suspect may not have stayed live for much longer) and then, very much to my surprise and shock, a tarantula - or at least an enormous hairy spider, and another, and another. Four of the 10-12cm arachnids over the 60-80mile period.

The town of Talihina arrived after 96 miles just before 4pm as the light drizzle started falling so I sought out somewhere to stay. This proved more difficult than I expected. The first motel had the 'No Vacancies' sign up despite having only a couple of cars outside the ~15 rooms. So I decided to follow the 'downtown B&B' sign which took me down a road and out the town. Next option was the worrying looking place advertising rooms and showers on a mildew-coated sign. 'Ring the bell' it said on the door pointing to the two bits of painted wire. I knocked on the door then opened it expecting to find a front desk of some sort, but found a front room of some sort. I retreated quickly conscious of the fact that around these parts of the world they shoot first and ask questions later. With the gps suggesting the nearest place was some 19 miles away I decided to chance to luck and head further out of town and thankfully stumbled upon the Lazy R Inn almost an hour after I'd first rolled into town.

Forecast looking ideal for tomorrow's short-but-tough jaunt up and along the Talimena Scenic Drive - a stage I've been really looking forward to since I first drew up the plans for the trip.

And as for today's picture. It's just the humour of a biking scientist - apologies.

Stormschasing

2009-06-03T01:03:00.002+01:00

Day 59, Stage 38 - Oklahoma City to Holdenville
86 miles in 6hrs 10mins (incl. only one quick bagel stop)
Total Distance - 3,254 miles
Mixed feelings this morning as I woke in time for another very early start. While I was delighted to be getting back on my way, especially on a route away from the interstate, I was more than a little worried by the weather forecast for today. A cold front was to move in today and the computerized voice from the Weather Channel last night had been going over in my mind warning of scattered thunderstorms, some with severe winds and hail. Now the definition of 'severe' in this part of the world is somewhat different from the UK - severe rain = several inches fin a couple of hours, severe winds = possible tornadoes and severe hail = golf ball to baseball sized. I was definitely nervous, especially when I set off just before seven and could see I was in the middle of a vast horseshoe of menacing looking clouds. There was nothing to do but pedal and hope. After about an hour the horseshoe had been left behind but one arm had curved round to move between me and the rising sun. The rain started to lightly drizzle down and I was expecting to get wet. Then, to my surprise, shards of sunlight started to cut through the cloud and quickly carved it out the sky. Looking round I guessed I had at least another couple of hours of dryness. So I pressed on, fighting, with the Garmin gps as I went - piece of ******* junk that it is. The clouds then started to gather ominously again, but this time the road turned to take me south-east into the sunshine instead of the wall of dark grey that headed off north. To make it even better, the headwind that I was expecting to strengthen during the day began to wane giving me a more than pleasant run into Holdenville. To be honest, I hadn't had particularly high expectations for the scenery on this part of the trip but it turned out much better than I expected - not it any way stunning but nice, lush, green, gently rolling, quiet roads.

Then came my dilema for the day. It was 1pm and I had just over 80 miles chalked up. I felt good and wanted to carry on for a few more hours. However, the next town of note was almost 50 miles down the road. While the skies looked good I couldn't be sure they'd stay that way for the 3-4 hours I'd need. So I reluctantly called an 'early' end to the day. And when the thunderstorm rolled in two hours later as I was devouring my last slice of pizza, I was pleased I had.

Speaking of good decisions, I was chuckling to myself about the sign in the pic. as does a storm shelter not become a septic tank as a tornado passes overhead?

Looking ahead for the rest of this leg I've got a tough five days tentatively pencilled in as I try to squeeze what was six stages into five taking me down to Vicksburg on the Mississippi. As a result I'm looking at hopefully doing centuries in four out of the next five stages, with the remaining day being a +5,000ft climbing day - tough. Good news is the weather is looking pretty good for the next week - warm, but with the exception of tomorrow, dry. And the best weather news is that tomorrow will take me out of the 'Vortex 2' tornado hunt region (the Weather Channel has blanket coverage of this V2 project), which I'm assuming is the area in which said spinning things are most likely to occur.

One other quick point is I've got to give a special mention to the folks at the Wheeler Dealer bike shop in Oklahoma City who took delivery of my broken Cannondale yesterday and gave me a lot of help in stripping it down and getting the parts boxed up and to the Post Office. Thanks again and best of luck with the expansion into the new shop folks.

I'm considerably less grateful to the assistant in the PO who told me I couldn't send then package cause it was 1" over the 108" (length + girth) size limit, especially as her colleague had already measured it at 107". Some vicious slashing and re-taping got it below the limit (even further) so it should be arriving back in Balerno in a couple of weeks.

Snack time

2009-06-01T19:02:00.000+01:00

Day 58 - Waiting for FedEx
...so nothing to do round here but eat.

Nice weather, except for ducks

2009-06-01T01:43:00.002+01:00

Day 57 - The 'burbs
90F, dry with a 20mph southerly has been ideal weather for a day of refuelling (though not for the little, lonely feathered creature in the pic). And I've been refuelling considerably with as much food as possible. Speaking of bulking up, I finally found a set of scales for the first time since I set off and I'm down 7kg (1stone) to bang on 14 stone. I must be honest, I'd have thought it would have been down a bit more than that. None-the-less it's the lightest I've been in about 10 years and the 7kg doesn't take account of the fat-to-muscle weight transfer that's bound to have happened. As an aside, my BMI is now a fraction under 25, meaning I'm just below being classified 'overweight', apparently. Does the BMI scale really have a shred of credibility left? Hmm, I think not.

Pedalling up the off ramp

2009-05-31T06:08:00.001+01:00

Day 56, Stage 37 - Weatherford to Oklahoma City
66 miles in 4hrs 35mins (incl. half a foot of Sub and muffin stop)
Total Distance - 3,168 miles
I'm tired.

Some 560 miles in six days has left me even more in need of a rest that this little feline I passed on the way to dinner this evening.

Mentally it was definitely a much tougher day than the stats suggest as I had an ongoing battle to stop myself from switching off early, thinking this 900 miles along and on the interstate was at an end. It was, finally, after a fast 45 miles as I took the exit ramp off the I40, almost four weeks since I first passed the start of it way back in Barstow, California.

Meanwhile, I'm sure the humble armadillo must be becoming an endangered species in these parts as there were even more of the poor critters squashed on the road today leading to a disturbing aroma of death to linger in the hot and humid air. It's an unpleasant enough smell at the best of times but when your gasping for breath pushing the pedals round...yeah, you can imagine.

I've managed to track down the bike shop where my broken machine should have been but, alas it's still in the FedEx depot here in Oklahoma City, due to get delivered on Monday which means two days rest here - which I was planning. However, it's two days out in the northern suburbs - which I wasn't planning.

Still, I'm sure I'll find some place where I can sit in the sun.

Oklahoma!

2009-05-30T02:52:00.002+01:00

Day 55, Stage 36 - Shamrock to Weatherford
101 miles in 7hrs 5mins (incl. two short snack stops)
Total Distance - 3,102 miles
(Damn mail just crashed when I was about to send this so apologies for the short blog today).

It was another day of flat roads under blue skies with the temperature just the right side of too hot.

I was 170 miles from Oklahoma city when I set off from Shamrock early this morning and I was thinking that, if the wind turned my way, then I might just be able to get there in one long stint.

The first two hours to my morning pizza at Sayre, after 36 miles, went well bringing me into Oklahoma, the ninth state of the trip. Here I stumbled across the sculpture in the pic. Apparently it represents 'the spirit of the wild west'. And who says the Americans can't do art?! The next stop was the 'official' Route 66 museum at Elk City (as opposed to the dozen-or-so unofficial ones I've seen along the road). Here I bought what, I've just realised, is my first trinket of the trip; a Route 66 wristband - it's all about the weight.

As I left Elk City I realised the wind had turned, but had turned the wrong way as it was a NE'erly and I was heading east. Ok City was not going to happen so I continued a forgettable 40miles down the interstate to stop next to the legendary, but frankly disappointing, Lucille's diner (the 'mother of the mother road').

In the meantime, armadillo has come from nowhere to top the unofficial roadkill tally that I've been mentally keeping. The list is something like; 1) armadillo, 2) cat, 3) skunk, 4) snake, 5) coyote, 6) tortoise, 7) deer, 8) squirrel, 9) dog . Well, I did say things have been a bit boring as of late!

Forecast looking good for tomorrow's short 65 mile stint into OC where my broken Cannondale should be waiting for me in one if the local bike shops to see if it can be warrantied. Here's hoping.

Plain Sailing

2009-05-29T04:06:00.002+01:00

Day 54, Stage 35 - Amarillo to Shamrock
91 miles in 6hrs 10mins (incl. two muffin, Nesquik & Doritos stops)
Total Distance - 3,001 miles (I think, network stuffed again so can't check yesterday's total)
It's flat round here. Very, very flat.

It turned out that yesterday's six hour sprint had left me more tired this morning than I thought I'd be (though it might also have had something to do with that extra stein of the local brew).

Conditions were perfect (25C, clear skies and only a light northerly wind) as I set out at 10.30 with no real idea where I was going to finish tonight. It was just going to be one of those days of spinning the pedals, seeing how I felt and how far I got.

There really was absolutely nothing of note for pretty much the whole day on a practically straight road. Just the occasional little windpump, numerous vast grain stores, and cows, cows and more cows. Not an unpleasant part of the world at all, especially given the weather, but not exactly inspiring either.

Today's stage also saw my altitude descent of recent days continue as I dropped a further 1,200ft to 2,300ft into the thicker air by the time I stopped in the town of Shamrock, 10 miles short of the Oklahoma state line. And the air's thicker in more ways than one as the humidity is notably creeping up. It's at a fairly pleasant level now compared to the harsh, desiccating high desert air but it's likely to be the next big challenge I'll face as I head off further into the deep south in a few days.

With little else of note today I thought I'd briefly touch on the campervan culture here. The size of some of these machines are really astonishing and I reckon nothing else I've seen symbolizes the stereotype of American over-consumption as these things. While I'm used to seeing them now, it took me at least a month before I stopped thinking they were tour buses coming along the road until I saw the boat/golf buggy, 4x4 being towed along on the back. What I still haven't got used to, though, are some of the names for these vehicles; Explorer - fine, Dolphin - a bit weird, but ok, and of course Winnebago. However, 'Cougar' is a little puzzling but not half as worrying as 'Prowler' or, worse still, 'Intruder'. Or is it just in my mind that those are disturbing?

Mr Kaye got it wrong

2009-05-28T02:07:00.001+01:00

Day 53, Stage 34 - San Jon to Amarillo
102 miles in 6hrs 59mins (incl. pancakes at halfway house)
Total Distance - 2,910 miles
It wasn't til about 40 miles down the road today that it dawned on me that what had woken me at five this morning had been someone trying to get into my motel room. With no car parked outside the guy walking around the car park looking in the bins had, obviously, also been trying the room doors. Well, the noise had woken me only 5 mins before my alarm was due to go off as I got up in time to set off at 6.06am in the hope of reaching Amarillo, 95 miles down the road, before 1pm when the Man U vs Barca game was kicking off. It was a big ask but I was feeling confident (about the trip, not the game).

After three hours on the road, having crossed into Texas, I took the slip road off into Adrian in search of the numerically-significant mid-point cafe where today's pic was taken. The best pancakes of the trip (and possibly even best welcome) set me up well for the 50 miles into Amarillo. This stint was quicker than I thought it would be as, for the first time all trip, the wind forecast was wrong in my favour being NNW instead of the forecast NNE. While it sounds a trivial difference, as I was heading due east it was enough to add a significant few mph to my speed.

I hit the east of Amarillo after 82 miles at 11.50, in plenty of time to find a motel before the game started. And then the problems started - after 8 miles and 40 mins of cycling round the downtown city centre and I hadn't seen a single motel/hotel and only a handful of bars. Now I challenge anyone to show me a town where you can travel that far without finding suitable, or any, lodging. More like 'Show me the way IN Amarillo', Peter. I decided to head for the legendary Big Texan inn on the far side of town, home of the '72oz eat it all and get it for free' steak. I finally found it just after one and it was showing the football, though I now wish it hadn't been. I opted for the 21oz steak which was more than ample for me but I'm about to pop back in for dinner and watch the challengers take on the beast (there's a webcam of it as well which is actually more compulsive viewing than it sounds).

There's a reality tv film crew here at the restaurant filming a Route 66 roadtrip mockumentary. It's been amusing talking to the tv crew telling them that I'm cycling most of what they're filming.

One very good point raised on the menu here though - who the hell tried the first mountain oyster?

Meanwhile, I'm feeling good and the weather, wind and topography are all looking promising for tomorrow. I've got that calm excited feeling I had on the beach at Santa Monica again.

66, a highway speaks...

2009-05-27T20:45:00.001+01:00

Day 52, Stage - Santa Rosa to San Jon
84 miles in 5hrs 35mins (no punctures and only a v. quick food stop)
Total Distance - 2,808 miles
With a cold front due in this afternoon bringing with it some likely significant storms there was no way I was letting sleep win the argument as the alarm went off at 6am this morning. Last night the folk on the Weather Channel had even been getting excited that their 'TorCon' readings were going to be climbing from their recent unusual lows. Now I had no idea what 'TorCon' was until I got here, but I know now, it's tornadic conditions, and given it's the height of tornado season and I'm just about to go into 'The Alley', it's something I really need to know. So at 7.30 I set off with only the faintest clouds on the horizon from where the front was coming in.

Despite expecting to spend most if the day on the interstate I was delighted to find that Route 66 was in a good enough state to ride along for well over half of today's 80 miles. While it's undoubtedly a driving road rather than a cycling one, I'm actually finding it an interesting and fairly emotive road to be on. So many of the places that are still open on it try, desperately to cling to the nostalgia of the 50's good times of motoring. However, the really striking thing to me is just how much utter desolation can be seen at so many of the small communities (even some of the bigger towns) along the way that the interstate now avoids. Lots of these places have just been wiped out, completely abandoned, leaving only silent, crumbling walls, such as the place in the pic. It's not hard to understand why, though, given that on one of the stretches of 66 I was on today I rode along for 15 miles without a single car passing me in either direction. I guess that, in a way, it also shows what's partly great about this country - people don't linger around waiting and hoping for things to get better, they get up, go somewhere else and try and make things better for themselves. A very admirable attitude.

As I trundled along the last two miles into San Jon (speaking of dying towns) it was only one o'clock and the temptation to continue on twenty miles or so further down the road was definitely there. The clouds were gathering but the storms were still some way behind me, though. A piece of dried grass blew up into the air just off to my left ...

...then it was suddenly joined by much bigger bits of vegetation and they started spinning, fast around me. I slammed on the brakes and jumped off the bike which was getting buffeted violently under me. For one brief moment I panicked as it dawned on me that I'd been closely watching every storm and cloud around me but not the one right above me. I very nervously looked up with a horrible feeling that I was about to see a grey finger of cloud coming out the sky pointing at me. Thankfully not, and I watched the rotating collection of plant life move on into a field. It had made my mind up for me - I was finding a motel there and then! And as I sit here listening to the wind, rain and thunder getting stronger, I'm delighted I did. However the storms are playing havoc with the tv reception so I've currently got the choice of some shopping channels, God Channels or The Cattle Channel. I didn't appreciate how much there was to know about our bovine friends.

Looking to tomorrow, another early start tomorrow in the hope of finishing in time to watch the Champions League final at 1 o'clock.

iPhone still stuffed at the moment so no signal or wifi working. Hence
the delaying in posting these.

Bridging the gap

2009-05-27T20:12:00.001+01:00

Day 51, Stage 32 - Albuquerque to Santa Rosa
114 miles in 6hrs 35 mins (incl. guess, what? Yup, another foot of Subway and one slow puncture at the end of the day)
Total distance - 2,724 miles
Well, I'm back on track, in more ways than one.

Last night I was both nervous and excited ahead of this stage. Nervous principally because there appeared to be nothing on the route between Clines Corner at the 50 mile mark and Santa Rosa at over 110 miles. But there was excitement as well as the forecast was looking perfect - dry, 25C, and with a tailwind. The topography also looked good on my last day of big climbs before hitting the flat open expanses of Texas and Oklahoma with a 2,000ft climb in the early miles before a gradual, +2000ft descent over the last 60 miles.

Yet again, sleep won the argument with the alarm this morning so the day started two hours later than I'd planned. I set off in the sunshine, filled with muffins on the 2,000ft climb up to just over 7,000ft again, savouring the moment as I knew it would be the last time on the trip I would be up at these altitudes in the thin air. The route then took me quickly down into Motiarty where I turned onto what, on the map at least, looked like a near enough dead straight 75 mile stretch of interstate - a stint I hadn't been looking forward to. It turned out to be a lot more interesting than it looked, but still only one photo moment today (that's only 4 in 450 miles!)

Heading out along this straight, on the climb up to Clines, I saw my first bit of tumbleweed which skipped across the highway and came worryingly close to lodging in my back spokes. At Clines, yet another Subway was consumed. I've lost count of how many that is now.

Knowing it was all downhill from there and with the wind at my back I was trying to estimate how long I thought it would take me to cover the 58 miles into Santa Rosa. It was twenty past one so I thought, optimistically, just before five would be good going. Wrong again Fraser. The first hour took me 24.5 miles down the road, and I just kept pushing along. After an hour and a half I realised that a sub two-hour half century could be on the cards if I upped the pace. It was a struggle, especially when the back tyre started squirming on it's way down (very slowly) again. It would survive though, and the 50 miles clocked over at 1hr 57mins 24secs. Now admittedly that was with a 10 mph tailwind and a descent of 1,800ft, so not a 'true' half-century time but it was also on a fully-laden machine, so I'm taking it.

I arrived into Santa Rosa at 3.30pm and, after a near on two week 'detour' because of my broken bike, I've finally bridged the gap and rejoined my original route.

Speaking of bridges, and in the absence of anything worth snapping today, here's a pic from the Natural Bridges National Park I visited last week. It's big - those are fully grown trees underneath it.

Coasting along under your own steam

2009-05-25T02:35:00.000+01:00

...and just briefly following on on the Lemond story yesterday, I
stumbled across this forum. Definitely one for cyclists with a
schoolboy sense of humour.
Me? it had me near ending myself.

http://www.bikeforums.net/archive/index.php/t-40291.html.

Rest day Subway

2009-05-25T02:12:00.000+01:00

Day 50 - Rest day
Just discovered there's an even bigger option than the Footlong Subway
sandwiches.

Delighted.

If you pedal without rhythm, you won't attract the worm

2009-05-24T08:36:00.002+01:00

Day 49, Stage 31 - Grants to Albuquerque
83 miles in 7hrs 45mins (incl. no food stops, 2 punctures and one unplanned cow-herding detour)
With it being the memorial day holiday weekend over here I thought it best I set off bright and early this morning in case the motels all filled up. So, at 6.30am my alarm went off, and then went off, until half an hour later when it went off again, then off. This cycle continued until 9.20am when I finally dragged myself out of bed still exhausted and really feeling the muscular effects from pushing into the headwind all yesterday. I finally set out onto Route 66 at 10.30 bathed in sunshine but with ominous clouds gathering around.

It was a real struggle to keep my eyes open in those early miles but after a few miles the road began to wind and roll and the scenery began to actually be worth looking at for the first time since leaving Flagstaff on Wednesday. In fact it was really quite interesting as the road went along a bed of a broken and twisted lava field.

Then, in the distance I could see the clouds begin to fall to earth. Little did I know it but the fun for the day had begun. Unlike the past three days when the road had frequently turned to send me straight into the path of storms today I could see that, judging by the wind and road direction, if I was fast enough I could avoid these ones. And I'm not talking about a sprint of a mile or two. This marvellous game continued driving me on for some thirty miles almost non-stop, during which time I had the fun dilemma of either stopping for breakfast or staying dry. I chose dry and was repeatedly spurred on by looking round to see the road I'd just come along be engulfed in sheets of grey.

Though one irritation during this chase came when I passed a 40 miles to Albuquerque sign, then 6 miles later I caught sight of a sign on the interstate boldly stating 'Albuquerque 40 miles'. Not particularly amused. Now six miles may be a fairly trivial distance in a car but on a bike that sort of difference matters.

Then the day all got a bit farcically comical as all of a sudden I realised that I was in serious danger of having an incident similar to Greg Lemond's infamous Tour de France moment. And I'm not talking about his 8 second victory over Laurent Fignon, it's probably his next most well known Tour moment. I won't elaborate here but suffice to say no-one wanted to ride behind him after it. Basically while last night's buffet had disappeared remarkably quickly it was now making a bid to reappear at an even quicker rate. The gps showed a reasonable sized settlement a couple of miles up the road and I figured I'd be able to make it that far. I did, but once there I found it was an Indian reservation that was not particularly keen on encouraging outsiders with a sign asking 'No Cameras. No tape recording. No filming', I think even something like 'Please do not speak to the residents unless necessary'. I respected every one of those requests but perhaps didn't quite respect the surrounding environment as I pedalled down a dead quiet road seeking a secluded spot. I found one, with about 8 seconds to spare.

I got back on the bike and with the appropriate pill out the first aid kit having been consumed and continued down the 'road' which then deteriorated into a near dust track lined with cattle who didn't seem to take too well to my presence running en masse down the road ahead of me for half a mile. Rather than continue down this track I figured trying to join the interstate would be the best option so I decided to head up the the next road the gps was showing. This one was even worse, just a rough dirt track (see pic). Still, it gave me a chance to test out how good a cyclocross bike the new machine is. Not too bad actually. Then, the surface deteriorated further into a strange, dry but sticky mud which collected on the tyres, spun round under the mudguards to jam the wheels. Pedalling through this was near impossible as I became, quite literally, stuck in the mud. After frequent stops to unclog things I eventually made the steep climb up the embankment onto the interstate, probably much to the bemusement of those passing. It was a great smooth road surface and I sped along until I realised why it was so good as the roadworks signs appeared and the two lanes plus an 8ft wide shoulder lane for me quickly became one lane and about a 16"-20" lane for me. The traffic, including the trucks persistently droned past at about 50 while I pedalled straight on furiously; mercifully grateful for the fact that the handling of the new bike is about as quick as to make the erosion of the pyramids seem like it's happening at pace so staying on that narrow strip of grey was a lot easier and less stressful than it sounds. Still, there was a definite sigh of relief when 'my lane' reappeared after some 6 miles.

With 30 miles to go I could see another large storm was breaking just behind me to my right - this one would be with me until the end of the day as I went through the a fantastic game of cat and mouse with it as the light rain would just catch me on the long climbs but I'd be able to speed on and punch through into dryness on the descents. I'd managed to build up a good lead ahead of the final long climb but then came my first puncture. A pretty manic quick tube change and I was off on a lactic-acid-burn-filled 'sprint' up the remainder of the climb and onto the long, downhill run into Albuquerque. My lead was down to almost nothing but I felt confident in victory, until puncture two came along. Another rapid change was just not quick enough as the rain began to fall meaningfully as I was putting the wheel back in the frame. To be honest, I didn't really mind, I felt that the storm had earned the right to rain on me. Then, what had been a wall of rain only minutes previously suddenly stopped after only a couple of miles. My rain gear could just as well have stayed in the bag, but I didn't care either way.

It was a fast descent into the city of Albuquerque and through the Downtown district where I planned to stay for the night. However, I saw little in the way of what looked civilised civilisation to me so I pressed on up the hill towards the university district which looks like it's a good place for tomorrow's rest day, particularly cause I found another microbrewery just nearby.

...and if you're wondering about the title - Dune - I am in the desert after all.

It's all downhill from here :)

2009-05-23T06:07:00.003+01:00

Day 48, Stage 30 - Gallup to Grants
68 miles in 8hrs 45mins (incl. another Subway stop, one food stop where the pic was taken and NO PUNCTURES!!!)
Total distance - 2,521 miles
After yesterday's hellishly frustrating and boring day, surely today couldn't be any worse.

Well, to start with it did try. Having 'lost' an hour having crossed into New Mexico and with fixing the punctured tubes this morning it wasn't until shortly before 11am that I set out on the wet roads in full wet kit again. After yesterday's wind forecast having turned out to be a NNE headwind instead of the SSW forecast tailwind I was hoping that today's might be wrong as well and not be delivering the 5-10mph SE headwind that was forecast. It was wrong again, probably nearer 15mph but definitely SE'erly. I was very wet even after only 7 miles when I stopped for a morning Subway. Thankfully the rain eased up during that time but when I got back outside I realised I was cold. It was only 10C excluding the wind-chill. I thought this was meant to be the desert and am beginning to think I may have been a bit premature in sending home so much of my warm weather kit last week. The relentless headwind combined with a gradual 800ft climb on rough road surfaces made for a painfully slow 30 miles up to the continental divide - taking me nigh on 4 hours. Crossing this 'tipping point' gave me a real lift, which I was really in need of given the past few days. Then came the 'descent' which felt like anything but with the wind continuing to claw at me and the final 8 miles were a full out 12mph 'sprint' to get to the motel before the the downpour that was racing towards me reached it. I made it by only a couple of minutes, but my legs are paying for it now.

As for the scenery today, it was a touch better than yesterday but I think I've only taken about 3 or 4 pictures since I left Flagstaff on Wednesday and I now understand why the US Government chose Los Alamos for doing so much of it's nuclear testing. I also think that they, perhaps, should have used a bigger bomb.

Regarding the new bike, I did get your comment, Pete, asking about it. Well It's a Specialized Tricross Comp. I'll give a more detailed review once I've done a few more miles on it but my first impressions are - I really miss my Cannondale!

On a brighter note I was ecstatic to see a large 'Asian Buffet' sign next to the motel. $9.95 for eat all you can which was just what I needed. Now I may have looked fairly slim and healthy when I walked in but little did they know my capacity for the stealthy destruction of the buffet bar. I am The Ninja Buffet Eater!

Dragging me down

2009-05-22T06:41:00.003+01:00

Day 47, Stage 29 - Holbrook to Gallup
92 miles in 9hrs 45 mins (incl. a new record 4 punctures and one power
cut delayed lunch)
Total distance - 2,453 miles
Dull, dull, dull, dull, dull, puncture, dull, dull, rain, dull, dull, another puncture, dull, dull, power cut closing Subway shop, another rainstorm, cafe also closed for same reason, wet, dull, not another effing puncture, dull, dull, windy, dull, that tyre is bl00dy going flat again, dull, dull, dead coyote, dull, dull, cool a gopher-like creature, dull, dull, the state line, not quite so dull, rain again, chased by mangey dogs, that mileage sign was obviously wrong, dull and wet, finally arrived, very mediocre dinner.

I've done enough endurance events to know that it's not unusual to go through low points during them. But today's real low, 25 miles in (from which I've still not recovered), when I stopped to put my full rain gear on and realised that both wheels were well on their way down left me seriously contemplating either just sitting by the side of the road or riding on and potentially taking the train on to miss out this puncture-filled interstate hell through a frankly depressing part of the world, in my view.

There's a big ongoing discussion over here as to where to send the Gitmo detainees if Obama gets his way and closes it. I say send them to Eastern Arizona, though it could well be classified as torture. I am never, ever going to come back here and, you're probably not surprised to hear there was absolutely nothing worth taking a pic of today so, on the topic of crossing state lines, here's a snap from Monday's visit to the Four Corners site.

Oh, and you may have noticed that the tag line at the top of the blog has been changed, thanks to Mr Slater and also Bill who read my article in the Currie & Balerno News for pointing this out.

Trying to finish on some sort of a bright spot, I've just realised that, today I went through the halfway mark for the revised trip.

Riding with devils

2009-05-21T06:49:00.001+01:00

Day 46, Stage 28 - Flagstaff to Holbrook
94 miles in 7hrs 45mins (incl. 3 punctures, another 12" of Subway and some unplanned, self-inflicted resistance training)
Total Distance - 2,361 miles
After a week of an enforced break it was time to load up the new bike, get on the road again and hope both it and I held together.

It was a pleasant sunny 20C when I set out towards this morning's puncture which was particularly early and explosive as after only 8 miles the rear wheel let go. Once fixed I turned down the ramp to rejoin the I40 interstate which is to be my home for next, I hate to think how long but I reckon about 1,000 miles. Now I'm sure any sports psychologist will tell me that's completely the wrong attitude to start this leg of the journey with but when the guidebook has one of the highlights of today's stage being a billboard of a jackrabbit then you can probably understand why I not exactly looking forward to this part.

The sky rapidly started to cloud over and I could see the storms breaking out all around me. I knew it was a matter of time before I needed my rain jacket for the first time since I left Oregon and around 35 miles I could see my luck was about to run out as I looked down the road to see a storm had developed ahead of me. And this was no ordinary storm as the clouds were the same shade of orange as I'd seen at Mexican Hat on Monday. I was on my way to a meeting with a duststorm. As I got closer I realised that the streaks in the sky weren't just rain going downwards. The storm front was filled with about four or five mini-tornados, or dust devils as I think they're know in this part of the world. They weren't small either reaching some hundreds of feet onto the sky. Two of them stood out, one disturbingly large one off a quarter of a mile or so to the left of the highway and the tallest and next biggest off to the right. As I got closer the one to the left was clearly heading off away from me, the other one, however, was neither moving left nor right, it was just getting bigger.

Despite having never seen one of these before, like many people, I have a strange attraction to these cyclonic entities but it's coupled with a healthy dose respect, and fear. As I rode on, it continued to get bigger and closer. About 100 yards away, with the bike having sail-like aerodynamics the respect and fear took over and, a touch reluctantly, I eased on the brakes and stopped to watch the towering, rapidly spinning column of dust dance for a moment on the verge about 20 yards away from me before vanishing as it moved across the road only to become visible again moving away on the other side. Utterly captivating.

The wall of chocking dust then engulfed me and I struggled on badly through gusty winds and minimal visibility (probably only around 20 metres) for the next few miles. During this time I looked down to see the back wheel squirming around on the tarmac. Puncture number two had arrived. Actually somewhat thankful I turned off the road to fix it only to discover that the back brake had been on since puncture number one 30+ miles ago. I had thought it had been a bit of a slog since then!

The dust settled I set off again on to Winslow where I stopped at Subway for 'breakfast at 1.30pm after 57 miles' (there had been absolutely nothing for the past 40 miles).

The road continued dry to just short of Joseph city where I realised I was about to be engulfed by a pretty meaningful rainstorm, and worse still, the rear tyre was squirming around again on it's way to flat number three. The rain arrived en masse, the temperature dropped to only 12C and my toys and pram became disassociated by quite some distance. Then the Tourettes came back (I'm beginning to worry a bit about it's frequency)

I arrived very wet in Holbrook to find the surreal Wigwam Motel shown in the pic. along with two machines both with punctured rear wheels.

My biking Haj

2009-05-20T06:32:00.003+01:00

Day 43 to 45 - Flagstaff to Moab and back
Approx. 750 miles in the car to do 12 miles on the bike over 4 hours
Apologies for the infrequent blogging but the past three days have been all about me being on a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to go anticlockwise round a lump of sacred rock along with fellow believers. My trip to the holy land of mountain biking that is The Slickrock Trail at Moab, Utah has been completed, and I am a believer.

With my new machine being prepared I picked myself up a hire car and set off northwards (not east) with a long trip ahead but a very definite purpose to reach my destination. However, it wasn't all about arriving though, as I would be travelling through numerous sights along the way including the legendary Monument Valley.

The 170 miles up to the Valley went through a chillingly harsh, hot and desolate desert landscape in which the most notable event was being stopped by the locally sheriff - I honestly didn't see the sign! He either believed me or didn't want the trouble of filling out a ticket for someone from out the country so I proceeded on until I caught my first sight in the distance of the towering monoliths of rock. It really is a weird, weird place. At least with the Grand Canyon it's possible to fathom an explanation for how it formed, but this place just doesn't seem to make sense neither geologically nor gravitationally. Still, as impressive as it was, I must admit that it was one of those sights of which I've probably seen far too many perfect pictures in glossy tourist magazines, and in guides, and on TV for it to really have that much of an impact. So I pressed on, ever so slightly disappointed.

The next 170ish miles to Moab were far from disappointing, though, as the route passed through and around unexpected geological gem after geological gem from the sublime beauty of the Natural Bridges National Park to the wonderfully ridiculous stone that is Mexican Hat to the downright insanity that is the gravel hairpin climb on Highway 261 somehow taking the road up the seemingly sheer cliff to look down on the Valley of the Gods. Now there's a place to be.

I think that having been brought up in Scotland I'm so used to scenery being rounded and smoothed by millenia of wind, rain and ice that, as a result the huge, dry, angular rocks around here are such a contrast to what I'm used to I find them fascinating.

I finally arrived in Moab seeking out a motel located directly across the road from both the bike shop and the microbrewery. An above average motel but absolutely perfect place.

The next morning I set off with hired bike to grace the hallowed ground where I proceeded to get all of 15 yards down the trail before being dumped unceremoniously off the back of the bike on the first sharp climb. Not the graceful beginning I was hoping for. Still, I didn't care, I was grinning like a fool and didn't stop doing so all the way round in the 95F heat with the sun glaring off the pink rocks.

The track itself is a twisting, undulating roller coaster along unfeasibly grippy rock causing the unclimbable not to be so and rendering slopes ridable that would normally send you down sideways straight to the bottom. And in this place the bottom can be several tens of feet below. 'Experienced riders' only it says on the sign, and rightly so. The route is marked out with road-like white dashes on the rock which you might be able to make out on the pic. If there's a bigger high you can get from chasing white lines then I don't know it. So, is it the best mountain bike track I've ever been on? In all honesty probably not, Glentress and the Corrieyairack Pass both beat it in my book, but this place is about so much more than just the quality of the trail. It's about a magazine article I read over 15 years ago announcing this place to the world and knowing then I wanted to ride it someday. After all, is St Andrews the best golf course ever? Or is Monaco the best Grand Prix track? They're probably not but is there anywhere else you'd rather drive or drive.

On the route back I took a rather long detour to stop in at the Four Corners monument, the only place in the US where the borders of four states meet (and yes, I did check on a map cause I didn't believe it either). Then, having been not entirely blown away by Monument Valley on the way up I decided to give it another chance so set off in the hope of seeing it in the sunset. As I approached Mexican Hat I noticed that the cloud low on the horizon to the south was not a type or colour I've seen before. As I drove further towards it I hoped and then realised what it was, it was a duststorm, heading my way. Then just as I realised the near-setting sun emerged from below the low cloud spectacularly illuminating the approaching wall of sand. I practically crashed the car off the side of the road such was my desire to get out and watch the event unfolding and I stood transfixed in my socks and cycling gear. Who knows what the locals must have thought. As the combination of dust and darkness engulfed the Monuments I sped down the road to home for the night which saw me settle down on a campsite in the middle of The Valley to be awoken this morning by the eerie yet enchanting howls and barks of the village dogs echoing endlessly off the towering cliff walls. I left the Valley for a second time, though this time with not a grain of disappointment.

Looking to tomorrow, I've just picked up the new machine and all looks well for now though I'm not entirely convinced the wheels will survive with what I'm about to put them through.

Here's hoping though.

Plan B

2009-05-18T07:32:00.002+01:00

Day 42 - I have a cunning plan

With my mother leaving to head up to Monument Valley it was a day of looking round bike shops for me. Everyone I spoke to was more than a touch shocked that I'd managed to break the frame, especially a Cannondale. Alas all were agreed that it's toast so it was a case of new bike which I think I've managed to source from Absolute Bikes here in Flagstaff. Rather than rush the guys to get the bike ready quickly I've decided to hired a car up to Moab to go cycling there, coming back down to Flagstaff to set off on Wednesday.

In the meantime, this break has given me a spare moment to actually get round to replying to all the many messages that I've been very grateful to receive over the past few weeks. They've all been much appreciated.

Angus - thanks again for all your help at the start in Seattle. Was that really only six weeks ago?
Brent - you'd have loved this trip as there's an awful lot of fascinating bird life to be seen on it. All ornithological, of course!
Clarky - get that machine in your hallway dusted off and out on the streets then we can set up a VJ Capital bike racing team once I'm back sponsored by the profits of the various VJC enterprises.
Col - I'm thinking I might consider cycling to the Hearts European matches given third place is secured. Happy days.
Dave H - yeah, Dave, you hear that, European football trips. Still, guess you can console yourself with the fact I'm buying you several kegs of beer given your team's promotion into some lower league.
Dave L - this new bike I'm getting has strange things called drop bars. Am I in danger of turning to the dark side of cycling?
Donna - just on from your comment about the headwind on the way the Everest base camp. Did you hear anything about a guy called Goran Kropp and his Himalayan adventure when you were there by any chance? That guy surely had the best (and toughest) cycling expedition ever having cycled from Sweden to Everest Base camp with, if I remember right, about 100kg of bike+kit. He then proceeded to climb Everest solo. Leaves me feeling like a complete amateur.
Grahame - just one request, please, no more puns.
Grant - real shame you couldn't make it over here. You'll need to head over sometime in the future for some hiking in the Canyon
Inzer - you did ask what I think about on the bike for 8-12 hours a day. Pretty simple really, for the first half it was about 'what's hurting the most? And how do I move to ease the pain?' while lately it's been a mixture of 'how do I stay awake', and 'just how much hotter is it going to get?'. Three simple questions but they've probably kept me occupied for over half the miles.
James - believe me, for a few minutes your 'pack up the bike' suggestion was very tempting.
John & Joan - thanks for the message. It's a shame blogs weren't up and running when Lynn did her mammoth trip.
Kenny - I managed to see the HK sevens pics on Facebook. Congrats, you easily beat Clarky in terms of looking ridiculous.
Lynn - thanks very much for the sponsorship. I took your advice and took a trip to Pier 39 in San Fran - great food and a comical collection of sealions.
Pete - thanks for all the tips and advice in the early weeks. Was great to have a second opinion there to keep me in check. Hope you enjoyed your holiday. Now get yourself training for the Corrie!
Philippa - keep doing those laps on the Isle of Dogs route. Trust me cycling is more fun than working.
Sandra - I hope Grahame isn't causing too much trouble while the rest of us are away
Sloany - is VJ Capital Sports Betting running a book on me finishing this trip? If so what are the odds?
Sara - trust me, Highway 1 is a lot more painful on a bike than it looks to be in a car. I think you had the right idea.
Sarah - was nice to meet you at Treebones as well. Hope you're not rushing to get a job. And the Big Sur pics look great by the way.
Simon - any chance you can tell that lot next door to get a move on and initiate on the mid-caps? I've been long one co. for weeks awaiting them to come out with a buy rating on it.
Sue - hey don't knock it, Victoria Park is a start. By the way, you wouldn't believe how much time I've spent in the saddle wishing I was sitting in the beer garden of the Captain Kidd with a chilled ale.
Wayne & Stacey J - once again just to say I really appreciated you putting me up in Seattle. That easier and less stressful start to the whole trip has probably been the difference to me finishing one or two of the stages on the way here. Oh, and do you do deliveries for your Jack Daniels spaghetti? Please!
Wayne S - hope your coping with being out numbered by the Parkers once again.

I think and hope that's everyone but I'm really, really sorry if I missed you out (and there have been a few anonymous comments as well).

Thanks again
Fraser

Grand Canyon traffic jam

2009-05-16T06:30:00.002+01:00

Day 41 - Automobile day
After yesterday's dash down and up the Canyon it's payback time today as my legs feel more painful today than they have anytime all trip. As a result I was grateful to be sitting in the passenger seat as my mother drove through various state parks on the way to Flagstaff where I hope to be able to rectify the lack of ridable bike situation.

In the meantime, here's a less scenic pic from yesterday's hike.

A river runs through it

2009-05-15T04:53:00.001+01:00

All the posters, signs and guide leaflets are quite specific round here - "Do not attempt to hike down to the Colorado River and back in one day"

Err, oops!

With no bike to ride tomorrow, today didn't need to be a rest day. So, on the way back from having watched the sunrise over the Canyon I spotted a sign pointing to the start of the Bright Angel Trail - one of the infamous mule trails down from the rim. Now that looks like fun, I thought (well minus the mule). So I packed up some kit and set off for a long and hot reverse climb (descent first then climb out). The signs and posters were absolutely everywhere warning just how tough it can be down these trails, and to be fair, I can't really blame them as some of the shapes and sizes of folk I saw down there I'm certain wouldn't dream of climbing a hill the same elevation as they were descending (3,000ft) obviously only to then have to climb out in the afternoon heat. Rather than give myself a target place to get to I just decided to use the mountaineering favourite of setting a time at which I would turn back, wherever I was. In this case, having set out at 8am I chose 11.30. I set of at pace down the seemingly impossible trail zipping past the crowds until I hit traffic, Grand Canyon traffic, as I found myself staring at a mule's @rse, indeed nine of them for the next half hour on a track not wide enough to get past. Now this was not really the stunning views which I'd planned for the day! A hairy short cut at one of the hairpins got me (closely accompanied by a football-sized boulder) ahead of the train and I bound on down the remainder of the path, into the growing heat, continually marvelling at both the scenery (obviously) but also the trail as it snaked it's way down, around, under and even through the rock before it finally brought me down to the mighty Colorado at 11.10. A quick bit of lunch and bathing later and I set out bang on 11.30 on the 8 mile, 5,000+ft climb out. I knew it would be longer to get back up than the 3hrs 10mins it took me to get down (when I hadn't been hanging about, with the exception of the mules) and had assumed that, perhaps, five and a half hours would be reasonable. Well, It did take me longer than the descent, all of 5 mins longer. I really don't know how I did it. Maybe I have gotten quite fit.

As for the much more important bigger picture issue of not actually having a bike to ride on my Ride Across America, the plan is to head to either Flagstaff or Moab tomorrow to investigate the bike shop options in one of those towns and make a new plan from there.

Today, though, it was all about this astonishing place.

Nothing could prepare me for this...

2009-05-14T15:30:00.004+01:00

Day 39, Stage 27 - Seligman to the Grand Canyon
109 miles in 10hrs 10 mins (incl. 2 punctures, three food stops and
ONE OTHER VERY NOTABLE DELAY, more of which below)
Total distance - 2,255 miles
The alarm got reset a number of times as I woke feeling even more exhausted than I had yesterday morning (and I'd felt pretty awful then). So, the prospect of 100+ miles with another 5,000ft of climbing up to around 7,000ft was pretty far from appealing. Still, the bike would be mercifully light today with my mum taking most of the kit and I had the not-inconsiderable carrot of a rest day at the Grand Canyon ahead. This was also likely to be a bit of an emotional destination for me as I remember my dad once saying to me many many years ago when I was a kid that it was the one place over all others that he really wanted to go to. I'd always remembered that and had said to myself that if I ever had the money I would treat him and my mum to a trip here. I now have the means, but all too late.

This morning's plan was to join Route 66 for the first 25 miles into Ash Fork but what I'd thought was a junction turned out to be an underpass so it was back onto the interstate for that stint (after yet another Subway stop, this one after only one mile). During this first few miles I pulled over for a drink on the climb out of Seligman and listened to drone of the endless stream of trucks passing by. Then as I stood there suddenly there was an almighty 'bang' as one of the big rigs had a F1-style engine blow up of spectacular proportions leaving a trail of smoke billowing across the highway through the early morning sky. I got back on my bike, rode past the stricken giant, looked down and my legs dancing on the pedals. 'Go on', I thought to myself, 'the 20 tons and 1000-or-so horsepower beast can't make it up here but I can'. My ego was suitably boosted and I felt awake for the day.

Stripped down to just the absolute minimum of kit the bike felt remarkably lively compared to the tank-like handling when fully laden. It was like jumping into a sports car having been driving a wallowing 4x4 for hundreds of miles. As such, I decided this would be known as my 'Lotus Day', given that company's reputation for making minimalist speed machines. It did cross my mind that perhaps this was tempting fate given the reputation of said brand - Lots Of Trouble Usually Serious. Still, I stuck with it.

The 800ft I'd climbed were then quickly given up (and a bit) in the run down to Ash Fork where I stopped in a garage to refuel ahead of the 2,000ft climb I knew was just ahead. Fed and watered I jumped back on the bike only to realise I had got my seemingly obligatory morning puncture (three in three days). Once fixed the climb beckoned and I set out on it knowing there was a slow 12-15 miles ahead. I switched the gps off at the bottom with it showing around 5,000ft as I really didn't want to know how much I still had to go and expected the 'Elevation 6,000ft' road sign to let me know I was halfway up. But after 12 miles of not particularly taxing climbing I hadn't seen it. I stopped and nervously switched the gps back on as I really feared what sort of a monster last few miles of climbing remained, but to my surprise and relief it showed I was only 100ft from the summit. And for once, it wasn't lying.

The signs then took me off the interstate pointing in the direction of the long, almost dead straight road to the canyon. Now you know that strange feeling you can get at the edge of a cliff or on the top of a hill where you're drawn towards it to look just that little bit further over. Well, as I looked up the road towards the horizon, despite being 60 miles away, I got that feeling. A feeling that there was something unbelievably vast up there, and it was pulling me in to look into it.

I resisted it's pull for a brief few minutes for another snack stop after 55 miles. Cue puncture number two. Yup, maybe 'Lotus Day' was a bad idea, I thought to myself. Still, two punctures is only inconvenient, not exactly 'Serious', I told myself.

The road continued straight on for a further 45 miles, about halfway through which I had made the mistake of mentally telling myself the stage was done for the day about two hours before I would likely finish. I switched into wind-down mode a bit too much and once stopped, it's extremely hard to get going again.

The cyclocomputer ticked on to show the fifth century in eight stages on the slope up to the entrance to the Canyon Park and I happily chatted to the ranger at the gate about my ride. And then, as I pulled away for the final short five mile stint towards the canyon, for the very first time all trip the enormity of what I'd done hit me. I'd actually ridden my bike here all the way from Seattle. Yeah, I know it's patently obvious to anyone following this blog that that's what I've done but, I've spent the past month in the saddle thinking only day-to-day, even just mile-by-mile at times. It always just been a plan on a bit of paper to me, a collection of stages, one adventure followed by another the next day. But it was only now that I could finally grasp it in it's entirety. It had been a long day at the end of the toughest leg of the trip by far. I was exhausted, emotional, and, for a brief moment, not ashamed to admit I was pleased to be wearing shades.

These final few miles went through smouldering forest during which time I happily saw my mum drive past en route to meet me at one of the lodges nearby.

My 'big picture' thoughts were, however, being distracted by an uneasy sense that all was not well with the bike. Surely not puncture number three, I thought. Or is it the spokes on the new (not LA new but Vegas new) real wheel coming loose? Gear cable stretched, perhaps? I just couldn't figure it out despite a number of stops to have a prod around; spokes? Check. Tyre pressure? Check. Gear cable? Check. Quick release, hub, gear mech, sprockets? All checked out ok. But every time I got back on the gears kept jumping and the wheel looked like it had a strange inconsistent wobble in it. I was totally foxed so I stopped yet again, a mile from the canyon edge and took the rear wheel out the frame...

...now I had said a few days ago that I got the feeling the bike was struggling, well I now discovered what that distinctive spoke-breaking-like twang of metal fatigue had been on Monday morning, and again twice this afternoon. At the exact moment I had been having a mini 'breakdown' myself the bike had decided to have a major, and I'm almost certain terminal one. The frame was snapped clean through the right lower chainstay.

Bummer, was my immediate thought. But within a matter of seconds, I surprised myself with how upbeat I was, considering. 'Could have happened at a much worse time and place'. 'Another challenge to overcome'. 'Could have hurt. Lots!' Though they weren't all positive - "Effing 'Lotus Day'". Still, I wasn't even close to despondent.

I still couldn't see the canyon from where I was so hung my helmet on the handlebars and pushed the bike along the final few hundred yards to the edge and just stood there utterly speechless.

Nothing can prepare you for the enormity of this place. Nothing. And I'm not even going to try to put it into any more words because they are just too crude a tool for here.

It was a further three miles of pushing through inquisitive groups of people, a number of whom wanted my picture - and how much of an ego boost do you think that is folk wanting a picture of you given the alternative thing to be snapped nearby! I finally found the lodge with my somewhat relieved poor mother standing outside.

Obviously plans are completely up in the air at the moment (beyond waking in three hours to watch the sunrise) but I've a number of options and I definitely intend to figure out some way to complete the quest. Still, it's been a memorable day in many ways, not least because today I've outlasted both a truck and my bike.

I'll show you a place, high on the desert plain...

2009-05-13T06:56:00.001+01:00

Day 38, Stage 26 - Kingman to Seligman
78 miles in 7hrs 40mins (incl. 1 full tub of Pringles stop and yet another puncture
Total distance - 2,166 miles
I thought that yesterday had probably taken a lot out of me and, as I climbed the ramp onto the interstate at Kingman to set out this morning I realised I was wrong. It had taken more than a lot out of me. I felt empty; weak and exhausted. I stayed that way for the first hour-or-so, during which I felt my eyes closing with tiredness more than once. Which is really not a good thing while pedalling alongside passing trucks. I was seriously worried and even more so when, 18 miles in the road sign proudly advertised 56 miles to the next services. 56 miles I knew included a 1800ft climb. Having stuffed as much food into me as I could (including a whole tub of Pringles) I rolled, still half asleep, down the valley to the bottom of the climb.

And then came yet another puncture. I knew then that there was no chance I'd be able to make it the 70 miles further I'd planned for the day and wasn't even sure I could make it another 7 miles. To make it worse it was warming up again with the temperature already at 30C. Having fixed the puncture I got back on the bike and suddenly felt awake for the first time today and felt even better the more I climbed. The altitude also brought with it a drop in temperature down to a still-hot-but-survivable 27C. What was most striking though was the change in vegetation. It's a pretty basic rule of nature is it not that things are green and lush in the valleys and then as you go up, the plants and trees become smaller and more sparse? Not here it's not as the climb brought me from a land of small shrubs and dry orange soil onto the desert plains at 5,000ft, a place of trees and almost green fields. I even saw the first bit of naturally running water since leaving LA 500 miles ago. I suppose it makes sense given the temperature round here but it was just a bit of a (very pleasant) surprise just how much life there appears to be up here. However, one thing I couldn't make sense of on the climb were these rock/earth strata in the pic. and I found myself standing at the side of the side of the interstate for a good while trying to figure out a sequence of events to explain them. No idea though.

Then 7 miles outside Seligman the phone rang and it turned out that, by chance, my mum had just sat down for food in a cafe there. So I sped down the final few miles to meet her and I think she now realizes just why the topic of food is such a regular topic in my blog having seen how much I ate.

Another 100 mile day ahead tomorrow up to another geological (or should that be geographical?) wonder - the Grand Canyon. Can't wait. And to make it even better I've been able to put ninety percent of my kit in my mum's rental car as I'll be meeting her there at the end of the day. Not quite in the true spirit of touring cycling, I know, but makes for a pleasant, and hopefully fast, change.

Pretty, Dam, Big

2009-05-12T07:11:00.003+01:00

Day 37, Stage 25 - Las Vegas to Kingman 108 miles in 12hrs 35 mins (incl 1 puncture and one very long lunch)
Total distance - 2,088 miles
The toughest day in the saddle so far. If the distance & time stats aren't bad enough then here's a few more; total climbing ~4,500ft, temp above 95 for most of the day, and worst of all a 20mph near direct headwind for about 60 miles.

I'd set my alarm for 5.30 with the plan to get as far down the road before it really warmed up and ahead of the headwind that was forecast to strengthen through the day. So at 7am I pushed the bike out the front doors of the New York New York hotel I'd been staying at and found it was already warm. This was going to be a tough day. Still, if all went well then I figured I could be finished just after 3pm. However, things didn't start well though as the front tyre was flat before I'd got out of Vegas (a city I'd definitely go back to). Having fixed this I continued on through Boulder City where I stocked up on another 4 inner tubes and the cyclocomputer went through 2,000 miles without me realizing. The road then wound down to the site of today's pic., the Hoover Dam. As impressive and iconic a structure it is, it was actually the incomplete new freeway bridge with it's vast unconnected arch suspended in mid air that blew me away (sorry, pics didn't turn out).

The climb out from the dam was a nervous, shoulder-less slog but once up I got my first taste of the views of the endless desert ridges and canyons in this part of the world. While the forests of giant redwoods made me feel like a three year old, this place made me fell like an insignificant ant, and one that was being scorched under a magnifying glass as it was near 35C by then.

50 miles in the road dropped into a sprawling plateau, heading straight into the strengthening, warming wind and my long, hot, painfully-slow grind of an afternoon-going-on-evening began and continued til just after sunset when I gratefully coasted down from Coyote Pass into Kingman.

Lots more I'd like to say about today but, sorry, I really must sleep, I'm afraid. Planning another century for tomorrow, but should hopefully have a tailwind to push me up the further 4,000ft of climbing.

Totally Exhausted.

Mother's Day pic

2009-05-11T07:23:00.000+01:00

Mother's Day

2009-05-11T07:22:00.002+01:00

Day 36 - another rest day in Vegas
Does a picture need to say a thousand words when a handful will do? And for those of you who don't know, that actually is my mum in today's pic :)

Setting out for a four day, or hopefully three day, leg down to the Grand Canyon a very early start tomorrow in an attempt to get out the city and as far down route to the Grand Canyon before it hits 100F again.

Oops, IT issue so pic to follow

There's no right angles in nature...

2009-05-10T05:36:00.004+01:00

...nor are there any in a Vegas casino it would seem.

Day 35 - ...another rest day, but just done the 10 mile trip back from
the bike shop
Total distance - 1,981 miles

Today was another day with the thermometers into three figures leading the crowds, including myself, into the depths of the immense air conditioned warrens of the casino complexes. As vastly impressive as these places are, while strolling through them I have been asking myself just how many people are actually there cause they want to be and how many are looking for a way out? I had heard that these places are deliberately designed to keep you in them and I've got to say I'm massively impressed by the effort and design that has been put into keeping you in them as I thought I had a fairly reasonable sense of direction, but not in these places I don't it would seem. My theory is it's all about having no right angles in the floor plans, everything is either sweeping curves or 120-135 degree turns. As enormously effective as it is, though, I'm certain there's a thing or two (or more like two million), that the casino guys could learn from the chaps at the Garmin GPS.

Anyway, off out for dinner and this place is fairly near the top of the list of options. You've just gotta love the honesty of this town - it may not be good for you but boy is it fun.

We're gonna need a bigger boattle

2009-05-09T02:28:00.003+01:00

Day 34 - Rest Day
...but still 10 miles in 50 mins
Total distance -1,971 miles
Here on the Vegas strip is obviously the wrong side of town to be on if you're looking for a bike shop as I ended up about 10 miles away in the sweltering heat today trying to find the nearest one for another overhaul of my steed. It's been doing an really admirable job given it's a mountain bike and so was never designed for a fully-laden tour in the desert, but I've been sensing that it's been struggling as of late in the heat. Just for the record, the list of breakages/repairs etc so far (incl. this weekend's work) are;

Front wheel - major adjustment and regreasing of hub three separate
times. 1 broken spoke (replaced at Coos Bay)
Rear wheel - 7 broken spokes necessitating 2 full bike shop rebuilds,
one partial shop rebuild and 2 attempted rebuilds by myself
1 broken chain (fixed in Victorville)
1 snapped clamp for rear pannier (thankfully I had spares)
Brake pads - front needing changed within next coulple of hundred miles.
Punctures - at least six, I think. I can't quite remember.

Which brings me onto my main point for today and today's title: water bottles. While at the shop I made the joyous discovery of finding they sold insulated Camelbak water bottles which the mechanics were raving about. I purchased three (and might well get another couple tomorrow)
as the aluminium Sigg bottles I have, as great as they are, were very rapidly overheating over the past few day's stages. Another two bottles would give me a carrying capacity of some 9 litres or liquid (16 pints). I know sounds a ridiculous amount but, as an example, here's a list of my liquid consumption on Wednesday (it's the total below that's the interesting point rather than the details);

Before departing - 0.5 litres water, 0.5 litres sprite/mountain dew
Up to stop at 42 miles - 1.5 litres water
At 42 mile stop - 1 litre strawberry Nesquik, 1 litre water
Mile 42 to Baker (mile 66) - 1 litre Sprite, 2 litres water
At Baker - 1.5 litres Fanta
Baker to 92 mile water stop - 2 litres of horribly warm water, 1 can Sunkist
92 mile stop - 2 litres water
92 miles to stage end - 2 litres water
Dinner/motel room - 1 beer, 1 strawberry milkshake, 1 orange juice (totalling ~ 1.5 litres), 1 litre water

All told a staggering 18 litres, 32 pints, or 4 gallons of liquid - and that was with me having been desparately thirsty for about an hour of the day. Of this probably less than a litre left me by the, err, shall we 'traditional' manner. Hence the reason that when I put the maillot jaune on again yesterday morning I practically needed to crack it it was that encrusted in salts. So, as you can see, 9 litres quickly becomes not such a silly amout.

Well, I'm signing off for the day cause I need a drink.

Vegas Baby!

2009-05-08T11:32:00.001+01:00

Day 33, Stage 24 - Primm Valley to Las Vegas
42 miles in 3hrs 20mins (incl. two punctures)
Total Distance - 1,961 miles
After the excersions of the past two monster days, particularly last night's nightmarish ending, I was grateful for today's straightforward and very short run into the glorious insanity that is Las Vegas.

The day started with me pushing the bike out through the gaming floor of the casino I'd been staying which drew a number of puzzled looks from other guests, and some of the staff. Once I got out I quickly saw the front tyre was almost flat. Having changed the tube I then got about half a mile down the road before the 'fixed' tyre was empty once again. This time I fixed it properly and quickly got about 30 forgetable miles down the road in sweltering heat before being 'informed' by a perfectly reasonable highway patrol man that there was an alternate road I should be taking. I took his 'advice' and trundled straight down into the beating heart of the incredible madness that is this city in a sea of sand.

F.E.A.R.

2009-05-07T10:47:00.002+01:00

Day 32, Stage 23 - Barstow to 100 yards into Nevada
118 miles in 10hrs - (incl. an awful lot of water stops)
Total Distance - 1,919 miles
After the almost disrespectful way I sped through the desert yesterday, today, it was payback as it gave me a very humbling but strangely beautiful lesson as to just how harsh an environment this can be and that I should, perhaps, treat it with a bit more respect.

I awoke at 7.30 feeling refreshed despite yesterday's mammoth 150 mile day. It was just under 160 miles to Vegas but to stop me getting any ideas of trying to do it in one very long stint (ideas which I definitely had) I deliberately waited until 9.50 before setting out under a cloudless sky, wearing my maillot jaune for the first time. To be honest, I'm generally not to keen on wearing it as I think it's somewhat insulting to the famous jersey for it to be seen on someone of my lowly cycling prowess. Today, though, it was all about wearing it to be seen as I would be venturing onto the interstate for the first time and be on it for most of the day.

I joined it, then quickly left it as the signs sent me onto the side road through Yermo where I planned to stop for breakfast after 13 miles. But after a while I looked down the straight road a few miles and saw no sign of the town. I'd gone 15 miles and I then realised that the tiny collection of houses and one diner I'd passed by had been Yermo. A very smalltown!

So, I continued down the quiet sideroad for a further 10 miles during which the surface rapidly deteriorated into an unridable state so bad that I was grateful to rejoin the speeding trucks on the interstate. Here I rode along happily in the shoulder lane actually enjoying watching the distorted reflections of the vast landscape in the chromed beasts passing by.

One consequence of riding along in the shoulder lane meant there was a little 'game' I was required to play. I'm calling it 'Reptile or Rubber' and the rules are simple. Is the long thin thing ahead on the road just another one of the thousands of strips of tyre that littered the shoulder, or is it a snake sunning itself on the tarmac ready to strike out at a passing cyclist's legs? Thankfully no snakes today but there were a couple of recently dead ones yesterday to add to the two live ones I saw on the way down the coast (though it was only really one and a half live ones thanks to my rear wheel - oops).

This game kept me 'amused' all the way through the first 66 miles into the town of Baker. I got there a little over 4 hours since I'd set off and by then, the payback from yesterday had started. It. Was. Hot. The gigantic thermometer in the town was reading 91F and in the time it took me to finish off another Subway and fix a random puncture it was up to 94F. Disconcertingly, though, it had the potential to go up to 139F. Worrying.

While fixing the tyre a local county policeman wandered over. It turned out he was a cyclist himself and was intrigued and enthusiastic to hear about my the trip. He gave me some helpful advice about the route ahead and wished me well on the trip. While I wasn't at all surprised by his politeness almost everyone I spoke to today asked me if or how often I'd been stopped by the highway patrol for cycling on along the interstate. This is particularly worrying given I was definitely allowed to be on it at those parts (I have checked) but it suggested most folk weren't expecting bikes on the road.

The road out from Baker gave me my first real taste of the the legendary seemingly endless straights that you get in this part of the world. This one was actually only 12 miles, but it also went up some 2,300 feet so as I was only going at 7mph in the searing heat it made for a physically, but more so mentally tough hour and three quarters. The road then took a long sweeping 30 degree turn, and then went up another 900 feet over the next 6 miles. All told it had taken me almost three hours to climb those 18 miles. I was out of water and had been for the past half hour so. My maillot jaune now had a thick frosted coating of sweat salt on it and I had found myself briefly wondering what the moisture content of a passing butterfly was. I was thirsty so I was relieved to see a grand 'Mart on the Hill' sign above the turn-off at the summit. I turned off and climbed the ramp to see a deralict shell of a building. Fortunately, from the summit I could see the rest area (with water) I had already known was about six miles on. So I set off down the road which, for the next mile or
so, was crawling with probably hundreds of thousands of tiny
grasshoppers which made for a truely bizarre ride down a frantically hopping highway.

I reached the water point then quickly left 7kg heavier (five liters in various bottles and two in me). It was 6.20 by now and I was very aware that I only had about 1hr 40mins daylight to cover the 24 miles to the Nevada state border and the town of Primm, my planned destination for the night. The views along the next 9 miles and 1,000ft of climbing up to Mountain Pass were stunning but the ticking clock meant I only had time to take this quick shot. The summit of the pass (4,700ft) came at 7.20 by which time the sun was disappearing behind the peaks and I was beginning to feel a touch nervous about riding the next 15 miles in the fading light. Still, I knew it was a monster downhill off the peak so expected a very fast ride down.

Then, it all went a bit wrong. Actually very, very wrong. I'd anxiously taken notice of the roadworks sign on the climb up the pass and then I was faced with what I'd feared, it was a bright orange sign emblazoned with 'No Shoulder'. I was about to become a highly unwilling player in a new game. But this was one the truck drivers were going to play called 'Dodge the cyclist. The what? Ah, I didn't see him - oops'. To make it worse, even the road workers obviously don't expect cyclists on this part of the interstate as there wasn't a single sign warning for bikes and one thing I've learnt is the Americans will put up a road sign for almost anything (my personal favourite so far has been the 'Kayak Crossing' one in Monterey - yeah, go figure). I paused very briefly to switch on my lights and as the three lanes merged to two I felt the cold embrace of fear on me. This made the cliffs in northern Oregon feel like a minor inconvenience.

The first mile or so was the worst filled with repeated nervous glances over my shoulder to see what was trundling out of the sun. However, these glances sometimes resulted in me drifting a small, but significant amount further out into the lane. So, I calmly put my headphones back in and deceided I was only going to look forward. After all, what could I really do if I was to see 40 tons of steel and diesel on a collision course with me? The road was narrow so there was nowhere else to go. And did I really want my last thought to be knowing I was about to become part of the tarmac? If it was going to happen then, so be it. The fear was still very much there, but there was now a serenity about it. The one thing I could definitely do, though was pedal, hard. This would have the dual benefit of decreasing the traffic's closing speed on me, along with, obviously, meaning I'd spend less time in the 'kill zone'. I've never pedalled harder. In fact I'd be amazed if anyone has every made a more desparate rush for the state line as I was making as I tried to get as close to the 55mph speed limit as I could. The hill was mercifully steep meaning I spent long stints above 40mph feeling the ground rumble to the, thankfully, passing engines.

The shoulder lane finally reappeared some 12.5 miles and fractionally
over 20 mins later.

I was safe ...

...but it's 2.45am and I still can't sleep

Tracks in the sand

2009-05-06T08:38:00.002+01:00

Day 31, Stage 22 - Santa Monica to Barstow
150 miles in 11hrs 45mins
Total Distance - 1,801 miles
Yeah, I felt good this morning. Although things actually started considerably earlier than I'd planned as I woke at 3.58am.....unable to get back to sleep. Still, I had planned an early rise anyway to try and beat the rush hour traffic on the 25 mile ride out through the city. Priority number one this morning was riding the bike down the near-deserted Santa Monica beach for the traditional dipping the wheels in the Pacific (see pic). As I said on the video clip I took at the time 'One bike. One ocean. Only 3000 miles to the next one - 6am and I was good to go.'

Then came the next symbolic move of the day, switching my glass lenses from orange to black ready for the desert glare. I was psyched, but strangely calm and had a feeling there was potentially a special cycling day in me for today.

The first few miles were a stop-go nightmare through the grid streets of the city on dreadful roads before I turned up one of the glens to take me through 'The Hills' over into northern LA. There were a number of passes through over the ridge to the north side of the city and while I chose the shortest, I reckon I also must have chosen the highest - a 1,300ft climb past Bel Air golf course that put Big Sur to shame. It was fun though and there's an awful lot of spectacular looking houses up there. A quick descent along Mullholland Drive took me down into a further 10 miles of mind numbing traffic light-filled grids before the GPS went on a mission to p me off that even by it's high standards of unreliability was epic. It's very, very lucky to still be in one piece. However, I finally found a way out the city (with the emphasis on I), and the air noticeably cleared from the smog of the city. Looking back over the city of LA I have to say I really kind of liked it as a place but definitely a case of 'worth seeing but not worth going to see.'

The road continued in undulating climbs for the next 40 miles through Santa Clarita and along the dead quiet Soledad Canyon, complete with the most middle-of-nowhere shop I've seen for a long time from which I was compelled to buy something out of pity. All the climbing (approx 4,500ft), traffic and gps issues (and another 12" of sub) had made for a slow start and it took me just over 6hrs to do those first 60 miles taking me to Munro height of 3,000ft. Still it had been a great morning as the rebuilt wheel was holding up, I had a new set of headphones which were working great and, best of all, my new cycling shorts were hugely comfy (forgot to mention I'd been exposing my rear to who knows how many folk in the past however long having not realized I'd worn through one of my other pairs). This was also my first taste of the desert and my initial thoughts are I love it; warm, clear, quiet and stunning scenery. Just as well I like it as I'm going to be in it for the next month!

I really wasn't sure where I was heading to for this evening but had hoped to post another century to get me a third of the 310 miles to Vegas. I had previously planned this leg as a four day stint, but had recently, tentatively been thinking I might, just maybe, be able to do in three. Therefore, I was tentatively aiming for Victorville, 110 miles from Santa Monica.

Now the weather forecast had been for a strong westerly today though there had been precious little sign of it in those first 60 miles. But I then got out onto the plateau, turned east and found the wind. With the road going almost straight, due east and flat all the way into Victorville, I knew it would be a quick afternoon. Thinking a new hour record for the trip could be on the cards I set off with a vengance and, by the end of the hour through miles of Joshua trees and alongside the incredibly wasteful construction that is the California aqueduct, I'd posted 19.2 miles, easily beating my previous best of the trip of 16.9 on Saturday. Pleased, yes but if I'm honest I was a bit disappointed at missing the 20 mile mark. Still, it would give me a beatable target for later stages in the trip.

I kept pedalling ... and the road got even flatter and better. I got faster, much, much faster. 4.1 miles in 10 mins, 13.3 in 30 mins... and faster... , 20 miles in 43.5 mins. Then, the amusing reality dawned on me, I was going so fast I was going to run out of open road before the hour was up. And so it proved as I raced into the lights and traffic of Victorville. Despite this, I ended up with a 26.6 mile hour - beating, by some margin, my lifetime best of 23 miles. I stopped in the sun and could practically taste the endorphins pouring through my veins. Though I had 112 miles chalked up, I was on such a high there was no way I could stop for the day. And besides, it was far too good a wind to waste. So, I set off in the general direction of Barstow.

In my excitement, though, after a mile I made a cycling schoolboy error of trying to get the chain into big chainring, big sprocket, chewing the chain. An oily 25 mins later it was up and running again, less a link out the chain.

My route then quickly joined the iconic Route 66 for the first time and I danced on the pedals out the saddle pointing with almost manic joy at the Route 66 icons emblazened on the tarmac. My shadow was growing long as I cruised between the lowering sun in the west and the risen moon in the east before the road turned again to let the wind ease me along the final few miles into Barstow where I gratefully pulled into a motel, and the cyclocomputer rolled over to show 150.4 very memorable miles.

Into the firing line

2009-05-05T06:08:00.002+01:00

Day 30 - Recovery day
Despite a perfectly relaxing day today, with a massage that was just the right side of painful and so much food that was just the wrong side, I've spent the day growing increasingly on edge about heading off into the desert tomorrow - point-blank into the firing line of the sun.

Nervous...

LAzy days

2009-05-04T03:41:00.001+01:00

Day 29 - Rest day
A surprisingly busy day today what with finding a bike shop to rebuild the wheels, buy a new phone charger and stock up on freeze-dried food for my upcoming stint through the desert to Vegas (for which it's forecast to be uncomfortably warm). As a result I've managed to get a good bit of sightseeing in.

This city really is so; false, image-obsessed, body beatiful, surgically enhanced, fake tanned and fake whatever else...

...it's quite simply magnificent.

The end of the Pacific adventure

2009-05-03T04:51:00.002+01:00

Day 28, Stage 21 - Santa Barbara to Santa Monica 89 miles in 5 hrs 45 mins - almost non-stop
Total Distance - 1,645 miles
If you're wondering, that ain't a typo in the distance and time. Today, I found out just where six months training followed by a month on the road has got me. It's got me fast. To be fair, the conditions and roads were almost perfect being generally overcast and about 15C with a slight tailwind on virtually flat roads all day, but still, I definitely surprised myself, so apologies in advance for my trumpet blowing in the rest of today's blog.

I think I also surprised a fair few other folk on the road. Now, as you may just have realised from my previous posts, I get a bit of a monumental buzz from passing folk out on their road bikes (me, overly competitive? Never.) But to pass a whole group of about ten guys all out in their matching team kit? Surely not. But I did, and they didn't respond. Well one of them tried but, to my amazement, I just dropped him. And they weren't the only ones, there was the group of four after 50 miles - reeled in, passed, left trailing in my wake. But the one I enjoyed the most was the guy out in full time trial gear who zipped past me in a bit of a blur after 20 miles. Now anyone who knows me knows there was absolutely no way that I was going to resist a challenge like that so I set off on a chase like no other going full throttle for the next 10 miles at 20-25 mph, but always just unable to close that final 20 second gap before he turned off. Still, it had been a chase to remember. Although it had cost me another 2 rear wheel spokes.

On the wildlife front, it was dolphins today as after 18 miles I joined Highway 101 and spotted the distinctive dorsal fins of a pod of at least half a dozen or so chasing the fish into the shallows of the breaking waves. Alas, being the highway I was a bit frustrated I couldn't stop to watch them but I suspect I was about the only one of thousands zipping past on the road that even noticed they were there.

After 60 miles I passed the Malibu sign proudly announcing 27 miles of paradise to follow, I beg to differ as the cycling on that stretch was some of the least enjoyable of the trip along a busy road past far too many a parked cars on the shoulder. Or is it parked? Or is it about to pull out? Have they seen me? Nope!

So it was with no small element of delight that I looked to my right after 80 miles and saw the start of a cycle track winding it's way along the beach which I relief. One bit of advice though, when cycling through sand on a path don't even think about trying to turn the handlebars. It all goes comically wrong very quickly. But I was enjoying the ride, so much so I accidentally found myself cycling past tonight's hotel.

Getting here early (3pm) means I get the bonus of getting two full meals to refuel the tank. Meal number one has been a visit to Subway where the current marketing campaign centres around the culinary beast that is a 'footlong' sub sandwich. Well, to add to that today's promotion was buy one get one free (yesterday's was meet the LA Lakers cheerleaders - damn that day delay when I was ill in Ferndale!) Well, I did the bogof promo, sat down, and surprised myself quickly finishing both feet without feeling the slightest bit full. Which left me with plenty of time to fly my kite down on the beach in the weak evening sun.

Racing the clouds

2009-05-02T06:13:00.001+01:00

Day 27, Stage 20 - Santa Maria to Santa Barbara 65 miles in 5hrs 5mins
Total distance - 1,556 miles
Now up until last month I'd have considered a 65 mile, 5hr ride including over 3,000ft of climbing with a fully-laden bike as a monster day in the saddle. Today, it was just a short and easy day ... well fairly easy.

I was surprised to wake even before my 7.15 alarm and despite yesterday's exertions I felt ok, not great by any means but the 70+ miles day that I thought lay ahead didn't seem as terrifying as they could have. I had plugged various routes into the gps last night in an effort to find the quickest and had settled on the one that looked the shortest. However, the elevation plot for this one was a bit unnerving showing a 2,000ft climb followed by a 1,300ft descent in the first 12 miles. That didn't seem right to me from what I'd seen of the terrain when I'd arrived into Santa Maria and the guy I chatted to in the Starbucks first thing this morning confirmed there was no climb anywhere near that size nearby. Just another on the endless list of gps turd lies I assumed.

So, I set off in the sun under blue skies with no sign of the rain that was forecast for today. My head was down, not mentally but this was going to be a day of just pedalling to get here, not about the sights/photos/food or anything else. It was a bit of a grind out of Santa Maria and, after a while I looked back and saw an ominous darkness on the horizon upwind. The weather front had started it's chase. Seeing it spurred me on faster, but I'm thinking in terms of hours not dash across the car park quick. After a bite to eat at Los Alomos (nope, not that one, but i'll be there at the end of May) I rejoined the freeway to a sign showing 57 miles to Santa B. 8 miles later I was directed off the main road which was 'no bikes' onto a back road. And to my joy, the sign a mile later made it 35 miles to Santa B. The 'back road' was 13 miles shorter than the main road. I didn't try to understand, I was just thankful. So I continued along this route for another 20 or so miles through very pleasant, but-not-worth-photographing scenery.

Then, with just over 15 miles to go and at 800ft the realization began to dawn on me what the gps had been getting at. The elevation profile was in reverse and I was staring a 1,300ft climb in the face. Enter my old friend Tourettes again, though this time there was an air of excitement in my expletives, particularly because I knew that a 2000ft descent lay beyond the peak which I reached some 30 mins and 4 miles later to find today's pic - the best piece of road graffiti I think I've ever seen on my bike.

The descent down was an epic 35 mph 9 mile roller coaster through frighteningly gusty winds on which I only had the one very hairy unplanned off road excursion before cruising into Santa Barbara for the night.

Looking forward to a long but flat day tomorrow on the final leg into LA, and for that matter my very last stint on the pacific coast :(

I am, a Centurian

2009-05-01T07:35:00.002+01:00

Day 26, Stage 19 - Big Sur (just north of Gorda) to Santa Maria
113 miles in 10 hrs 5 mins (incl 1 food stop and one wheel rebuild)
Total Distance - 1,490 miles
So, if you hadn't guessed from today's mileage, I'm going for the big push into LA in three not four days.

The morning started early - it always does when camping - to the strangely engaging combination of the calls of birds and elephant seals rousing me at 6.30, easily in time to see the sun's rays emerge from behind the Big Sur mountains and announce the start of another beautiful blue-skied day.

I was feeling good and, as much as the Treebones Resort is expensive, I'd have to say it's worth it. There's a certain air of tranquility about the place that I really needed after too many days clocking up the miles.

After a waffle fest breakfast I finally got on the road at 8.30 and very soon passed a mileage sign. 271 miles to Los Angeles. In three days...can I? Hang on, that's 90+ a day. No, don't think about the big picture, Fraser. I had to repeat to myself. Let's just see how I'm going by midday.

For the first few miles the rolling coastal roads were mine, no really they were as it wasn't until after 5 miles in that the first car passed me. By then I had started on the curves and climbs that the guy at Treebones had kindly told me about. Namely the climbs! But those early climbs were a spectacular way to start the day and got my engine turning nicely - considerably better than my ipod which decided to go on some bizarre skip and pause fest. Still, I didn't really care on a day like this and I soon reached the end of the climbs and took a moment to look back on from where I'd come (see pic).

Following on from the calls this morning, today's marine mammal of choice was very definitely elephant seals as after 25 miles I rounded a corner to see thousands of these gigantic blubbery sausages sunning themselves on the beach. They really are quite weird creatures.

By then it was 11.05, and I knew that if I was going to have any chance of making it to LA by Saturday then I'd have to get some serious miles in. And I did just that. 15.6 miles in the next hour, my best of the trip, followed 15.7 in the next hour. So before I knew it it was 1.15 and I was in Morro Bay eating lunch with 57 miles chalked up. LA in 3 was back on.

But as I climbed out of Morro I heard the a distinctive twang from my rear wheel. It was a spoke giving up. Not disastrous, but the second twang 8 miles later got me more worried. Still, as long as they aren't nearby and on the same side of the wheel I should be ok til at least the end of the day. But they were, so 5 miles later twang number three - same side and adjacent - meant I was in very urgent need of a bike shop. I soon managed to track down Wally's in San Luis Obispo who were great and replaced the casualties there and then. Still, it'll need another full rebuild in LA.

I set off on the final stint down to Guadalupe, which seemed strangely to be getting further away on the GPS. I knew then that today was going to be the day for my first 100. I didn't get there without incident though as at about 95 miles in a little insect got caught up in the vents of my helmet. After half a mile or so of feeling it still crawling around my hair and with it having failed to free itself I decided to give it a poke of encouragement. However, it poked back, and some. Yup, it was a wasp and I was suddenly growing an extra forehead. So, wasps can sting more than once can they? Err, not once they've been caught in a non-existent gap between the California soil and a shimano cycling shoe they can't. Harsh, but.

The mileage finally ticked to a hundred a few miles outside Guadalupe and I felt surprisingly much more proud about it than I thought I would so paused by the side of the non-descript road to take a moment to reflect on the cycling moments in my life, and to take a fair few pics.

So I cruised into Guadalupe, my stop for the night. Or so I thought, but I cruised right through and there wasn't a motel or B&B to be seen anywhere. And to make it worse, my phone was dead so I couldn't search for anywhere. Oh, oh cr@p, was my thoughts. There's nothing down the road for 20 miles. But, hang on, I don't need to go down, I can go across 8 miles to Santa Maria, and to make it better the breeze will be right at my back. I set off, fast and got faster, perhaps with no small bit of anger in my legs, I covered those flat 8 miles in 20 mins - which 100+ miles and almost 10 hours in was a fitting high on which to end this very, very long day.

Big Sur = Big Fun

2009-04-30T16:02:00.003+01:00

Day 25, Stage 18 - Monterey to, eh, somewhere in Big Sur 81 miles in ~ 8hrs (incl about 50 pic stops)
Total Distance 1,377 miles
This is what it's meant to be like! An awesome day. Stunning scenery, clear blue skies, ideal temperature, tailwind, feeling good, and with a spectacular campsite to finish. More like this, yes please.

I awoke early from dreams of bagels (and I mean entire packs, not just one or two) feeling refreshed after yesterday's short day and quickly set off in the direction of my first must see place for the day - the cinnamon bakery. Having stocked up there I set out along the coastal path through Pacific Grove towards the detour that is the 17 mile drive. Now the guidebook I have didn't seem overly impressed by this part of the world so my hopes weren't that high. But I thought I'd try none-the-less.

The guidebook is wrong. It was stunning. Now I'm definitely not one for flowers (as I'm sure any of my ex's will testify) but the carpet of pink blooms along the first mile or so of the path were quite beautiful. Then came the pristine golf courses sculpted through the dunes with picture postcards beach backdrops (gents, I have definitely found the location for our next Mhesa golf outing). Just when I thought it couldn't get better, as I was spinning along the road a vulture decided to join me and cruised along beside me for 200yrds, almost in touching distance. Special.

My main reason for taking this 17 mile detour was that I was particularly keen and excited to see the Pebble Beach golf course, albeit not quite as excited as it must have looked to the line of cars stuck behind me as I cycled past the entrance, cause at that very moment, the drinking tube came off my Camelbak. I rapidly ended up very wet but to those following me it must have looked like I'd lost control of myself.

I then passed through Carmel where I'd hoped to get some breakfast but it seemed the emphasis in that part of the world is Tiffany and Villroy & Bosch stores rather than french toast and pancakes. Still, I had my cinnamon treats to keep me going. So, I rejoined Highway 1 after a 70 mile absence and turned south towards Big Sur.

Having heard so many good things about the San Fran to LA stage of Highway 1, I had so far been largely disappointed so was really hoping that this 'jewel in the crown' of the route would deliver. And boy does it. Cliffs, mountains, beaches and blue skies mixed together in a beautiful collage to produce headland after stunning headland (I lost count of how many there were when I stopped to take today's pic). And lost count of how many times I stopped to take some snaps. And to make it even better, the cycling was relatively flat given the harshness of the terrain (only relatively, though). However, I did get the fastest descent of the trip, a 2.5 mile +40mph swooping stint where I caused some confusion to the driver of the SUV I was politely harassing all the way down and where I clocked my fastest speed of the trip so far - which I'm not putting here cause my mother reads this.

To add to my marine mammal filled day of yesterday I also caught a glimpse of two distinctive sprays of breath from the ocean - porpoises, dolphins, whales, who knows, but after all the looking I've been doing over the past weeks for some sign of something big in the water it was a cheer to finally see it.

So, I finally arrived in the expensive but great little Treebones Resort where I'm paying more for a simple campsite than I did for my motel in Coos Bay. But the view, easily, easily worth it.

The only slight dampener on the day was the guy in reception saying it's the next 12 miles that are by far the most 'curvy' - and not just laterally. Which brings me onto my dilemma. I'm kind of in no-mans-land in terms of getting to L.A. being either three a-bit-too-long or four a-bit-too-short days out. I guess I'll just see how I feel tomorrow but if I can get a +90 day on the clock then three is a definite possibility.

A beautiful day to get lost

2009-04-29T04:16:00.002+01:00

Day 24, Stage 18 - Santa Cruz to Monterey
50 miles in 4hrs 25mins (incl many, many minutes watching the sealife)
Total distance - 1,296 miles
Now, to clarify, I was never really lost. The sea was somewhere a few miles or so to my right(ish), Highway 1 was somewhere a few miles to my left(ish) and the sun was in the general place in the sky I thought it should be. But other than that, yup, not a damn clue where I was, asides from when I ended up in someone's front garden. And that was the story for most of today.

Things hadn't exactly started well. I awoke, after a bad night's sleep due to a combination of noise from the car park outside but more so from the air con being up at +80F to dry my washing for today. And when I awoke it was 9.45am. Oops! Guess I did need my rest. I wasn't exactly able to rush out the door as I first had to replace a couple of spokes that broke yesterday late into the day. Therefore, it wasn't til 11.15 that I finally rolled out of Santa Cruz, hopefully never to return. Getting out the town wasn't easy though as Highway 1 appears to be off-limits to bikes around here so I had to take to following the random 'bike route' signs out of (more like all around) town. Unlike in Washington and particularly Oregon, there doesn't really appear much thought or structure has been put into the Pacific Coast bike route here in California. Some of the 'diversions' are comical, and on dreadful road surfaces and several junctions are totally devoid of direction signs. I kind of get the feeling that it's really all just about keeping the bikes away from the main roads so the traffic keeps flowing rather than planning a good route for bikes. Anyway, I digress. Well, I quickly became, how do I put it, not lost just temporarily unaware of my exact location. This temporary situation continued off and mostly on for the next 25 miles which took me through vast water-sprayed fields of strawberries, the aroma from which was quite superb.

Not being allowed on the main road meant no sign of the food stops I'd been hoping for so it was with no small element of desperation that I pulled off the road at Moss Landing in the hope of finding sustenance. And I was soon delighted I had done, not cause I found food other than the cranberry muffin in my pack, but because I found this sight in the pic of a pier farcically overflowing with sealions. And to add to the sight, there was also at least three of what are my favourite animals, otters, lazily swimming around the bay feasting on whatever they could dredge up. There's actually one of them in the pic in the water a couple of metres beyond the pier near the middle of the shot. I was happy. I stood in the sun watching them for quite some time but, at 1.45, with only 28 miles on the clock, I knew I had to move on. So I reluctantly saddled up and started out through the now endless fields of artichokes, some of them complete with pictures of Miss Artichoke Festival 1947, none other than a certain Norma Jeane Mortenson. Around 35 miles in a great 2-lane cycle path appeared in what seemed the middle of nowhere and I happily shot along it for the next 15 miles successfully avoiding taking out any of the many squirrels and lizards dashing across the path. Then, into Monterey where the path went down to the blue sandy beach and around the harbour. The sun was out, I was hungry, and when I saw the seals sunning themselves on the rocks in the harbour I succumbed to the charm of this town and decided to call an early end to the day.

Looking forward to tomorrow it'll take me along the famous (apparently) 17 Mile Drive including past Pebble Beach Golf Course before disappearing into the depths of Big Sur county where, based on what Mark Beamont said on his round the world trip, I think I'm highly unlikely to get a mobile signal so could be signing off on the blog for a couple of days.

How did I get here?

2009-04-28T07:19:00.003+01:00

Day 23, Stage 16 - San Francisco to Santa Cruz 81 miles in 7hrs 40mins (incl. 1 food, BK stop)
Total distance 1,247 miles
You know that feeling you get when driving along and you can't remember the past mile or two? (Or is that just me?) Well that's exactly what the last 50 miles of today were like. Probably the most unremarkable stretch of coastline. The one stand out sight, and a seriously impressive one at that, was these incredibly unstable looking cliffs somewhere along the coast.

At least my destination for today, Santa Cruz, is memorable. Namely cause it's just so bad it's an absolute must see (maybe I should have listened to you, Sara). Though, I've got to be honest, it's so bad I actually kind of like it.

The first 30 miles out of San Fran were also more memorable. I had contemplated staying on for an extra day but my legs were getting twitchy to get spinning again and when the pneumatic drill started out in the street early this morning I was pleased I was moving on. It was a late start though as I had to replace my rear tyre which was worn to the thread after a mere 1500 or so miles. And the city didn't let me out easily though as every corner I turned seemed to unveil yet another frighteningly steep climb and, as a result, I'd done some 2,000ft of climbing before I'd reached the 20 mile mark at midday. 25 miles in and I passed the site of the legendary Mavericks big wave at Half Moon Bay. Alas, it wasn't breaking - all was quiet - much like the next 50 miles.

Sorry for the short blog but today is the start of a possible six day stint in the saddle so need my rest tonight.

Go to jail. Go directly to jail.

2009-04-27T03:50:00.003+01:00

Day 22 - Tourist day
Just back from a hugely impressive tour round this little 'Rock' in the bay. Fabulous place to visit although the seriousness of the setting was comically reduced by the noises coming from the colony of nesting snowy egrets on the island. Beautiful looking birds but definitely worth a google to hear their calls - got to be up there as one of the most ludicrous animal noises going.

Bowl you can eat

2009-04-26T04:45:00.002+01:00

Day 21 - Rest Day
And as you can see I found the perfect meal - chilli served in a loaf of bread. Awesome.

...and that's just for starters

A Golden day

2009-04-25T10:07:00.004+01:00

Day 20, Stage 15 - Jenner to San Francisco
85 miles in 7hrs 50mins (incl. only 1 food stop but an obscene amount of adrenaline)
Total Distance - 1,165 miles
This was it, the day of the final push into San Francisco.

I set off at 8.25am assuming I had some 80 miles to go but was quickly cheered up by the first, and come to think of it, only mileage sign 2 miles in saying it was 72 miles to the city. The sky was blue, the wind was with me and I didn't feel as god awful as I had the past 3 mornings. I was almost feeling good about the day ahead. Now, I'd assumed, that this close to a major city that towns (read cafes) would be relatively plentiful so hadn't paid too much attention to the map in terms of planning food stops along the way. There was nothing at the first town of Bodega which I breezed through after 13 joyous wind-assisted miles along the Sonama Beach Park. So I continued on and the road then headed inland for a cafeless 20 miles through beautiful lush dairy fields stopping only to eat the blueberry muffin (and paper case) that had been stuffed in the bottom of my Camelbak for three days. I was making great progress despite my growing hunger and when I met the ocean again the wind almost picked me up and carried me the 10 miles along the coast into Point Reyes where I finally refuelled properly(ish) on a slice of pizza. It was midday and I had 44 miles on the clock - by far my best by that time. This was followed by a slowish 7 miles up a gentle climb as I attempted to digest the dough, after which a short fast descent took me out of the woods and back into the tailwind. As I looked down the road I was a bit surprised to see a couple of road bikes zooming along a couple of hundred yards ahead. I couldn't figure where they'd come from but these guys looked serious and they weren't hanging about. But, to my complete astonishment, without really trying I was gaining on them, 18mph, 20, 24mph, I just kept going faster, but still not trying, and when I glided past them on my fully-laden 70lb battlecruiser of a bike the look of incredulity from them was so priceless you would not believe. Now to be fair, they did put in a sprint to get back past me after a couple of miles, but only all of 30 yards ahead. And they chatted away to me in a perfectly civilised manner when they passed, but their pride was so obviously hurt it was cruelly comical. However, after 8 miles of this the road then went up sharply at Stinson Beach and I was, not unsurprisingly, dropped. Still, I'd had my moment of glory and boy had it been fun.

Now when I say the road went up, I really mean it. In all the 1,200 miles I've done, the unexpected 1,500ft climbing in miles 60-68 today were the hardest by far. But as I stood, an hour and some later, gasping for breath at the top of the final climb before the road wound down into the city suburbs, the stereotypically brash but wholly welcome yells of encouragement from the group in a passing SUV lifted me from my happy tiredness. I was almost there. Or so I thought. It turned out that the mileage sign I'd seen was to the edge of the city, my destination lay some 11 miles beyond that. It could easily have been notably more as the GPS then tried remarkably hard to get me lost on several occasions over the next few miles as I tried to find the Golden Gate Bridge. Finding it actually proved considerably harder than I'd thought it would be finding something that size but after taking to navigating by the sun I realised I was on the right track. The adrenaline was surging now though and I even caught and passed another pretty serious looking roadie on the final 200ft climb up to The Bridge. Relative to the previous two guys, he actually took it remarkably well.

I savoured the ride across in the sun for all it was worth in near delirious laughter making me all but forget about the howling crosswind trying to make go swimming. Then into the city where I had my first taste of the famous hills this city is built on. Much, much steeper than they look. At one point I thought the gps was trying to finish me off by sending me down something nearer a cliff face than a road. The taxi drivers were chuckling at my obvious novice performance. I survived though and am off out on a pub crawl tonight to celebrate so will see if I've actually got any liver left or if I've metabolised it away in the past 3 weeks - it's the first thing to go, apparently. That combined with the fact I'm shattered, dehydrated, I haven't been drinking much beer at all and am probably around 10kgs or so lighter than at the start of the month means I reckon I might last 2 beers if I'm lucky.

Still, it's a rest day tomorrow and I think I deserve a beer.

The First Millenium

2009-04-24T23:00:00.002+01:00

Day 19, Stage 14 - Mendocino to Jenner
88 miles in a gruelling 9hrs 40 mins (incl. 2 long food stops and a puncture)
Total Distance 1,080 miles
I need a vacation!

Woke up this morning truly exhausted, or so I thought, but in truth it was nothing compared with this evening. Thankfully a tailwind was already blowing, and if the forecast was to believed (a very, very big assumption for this trip) then it was going to be right behind me for the whole day. As I set off, I was 165 miles from San Fran and determined to leave myself less than 90 miles for tomorrow, but given how I was feeling I knew it would be a struggle. And so it proved as the winding, undulating coastal road combined with slow service for brunch meant I'd only done 17 miles by the time I left said cafe at 11.40am, 2hrs 20mins after I'd set out. Easily my slowest start of the whole trip with the only cycling bright spot (among the innumerable scenic ones) being the odometer ticking over to show four figures for the first time - 1000 miles done, only another 4,400ish to go, yikes.

As the road improved I sped up over the next 30 miles but was still struggling both mentally and my fuel levels. So I stopped in Gualala for fajitas and to fix another rear wheel puncture. Solid food still isn't really go down well and this meal was no different but I hoped I had managed enough to get me at least to bulk of the remaining 40 miles to Jenner.

Now, after almost three weeks on the bike I hadn't seen a single other fellow Pacific Coast tourer. Then as I left Gualala, I spotted a couple of fully laden bikes. Chatting to them over the next wind assisted super fast 15 miles it turned out they'd set out a couple of days ahead of me from Seattle and were on their way to San Fran. They also mentioned that, coincidentally, they'd met another Scottish guy a few hundred miles up the road who was heading south, and probably a day ahead. Bit of a coincidence, I thought, but not as much of a coincidence as when I stopped 10 miles later in a tiny grocery shop near Stillwater campsite and said Scottish guy walks into the said store. Small world!

It was after 5pm by then and I still had 15 miles to go if I was to make it to Jenner. I also knew that the last 10 miles consisted of a climb up and along the cliffs that the lady in the store described as 'awful'. As if that wasn't bad enough, the two guys had re caught and passed me telling me to take it easy cause I was looking very tired. So, at the start of the climb at Fort Ross I did the sensible thing - ate half a rice krispie cake, and pressed on. 'Summit fever' had well and truly taken hold :) So, as the shadows lengthened and the air cooled I pedalled very slowly up. And was I pleased I had. Stunning views in the evening sun down the coast (and the several hundred feet cliffs below). A very tentative descent down then took me into the fantastic River's End cabins/restaurant Jenner - definitely the best meal and lodgings of the trip. I had made it.

The final push into San Fran tomorrow, and at least two days much-needed rest. Can't wait.

P.s. - Phone signal

2009-04-23T05:45:00.001+01:00

Forgot to say, I'm still stuck unable to make outgoing calls texts.
Hopefully that'll change at San Fran.

Sent from my iPhone

Back to normal (if I ever was?)

2009-04-23T05:32:00.002+01:00

Day 18, Stage 13 - Garberville to Mendicino
81 miles in 9 hrs (incl. 1 long food stop)
Total distance - 992 miles
Safely checked in here in Mendocino, a quaint and picturesque little town on the coast that is surprisingly populous given it was the setting for most of Jessica Fletcher's adventures in Murder She Wrote.

Much better day today but still worryingly tough. I could tell that I was flirting dangerously close to another monster blow up on more than a few occasions.

Starting off, the forecast was again for another warm day, though not as hot as yesterday. However, I hoped to avoid the worst of the heat as I would be crossing over the mountains out the valleys back to the, hopefully cooler, Pacific Coast by the afternoon.

The first 20ish miles into Leggett were mildly irritating with far too many 300ft climb/descent stints, making for a slow start. I was therefore, in a way quite happy to finally, after some 900 miles, turn off Highway 101 and set off at the very start of Highway 1 (see pic). Once in Leggett I took the short detour to cycle through the legendary 'drive-through-tree'. Yup, I know it sounds tacky but I actually thought it was a really impressive sight, especially considering said tree is still very much alive and well. So I sat there for quite a while eating lunch chuckling at the irony of folk tentatively inching their over sized SUVs through.

I was also in no rush to move on as it was warming up and I knew what lay ahead. It was the Legget Hill, probably the third-toughest climb on my whole route (behind two on the never-happened Mattole stage). Finally I rolled out of Leggett and began the ascent with the thermometer now around 27C. It was definitely tough, not insanely so (approx. 1300ft in 5 miles), but the really remarkable thing was that in those 5 miles I can't remember one single pedal-turn of downhill, or even flat, it was just continuous grind - strangely enjoyable though. But nowhere near as enjoyable as the descent down towards the Pacific again. 1,800ft and several miles of unadulterated cycling joy, sweeping and twisting through the shadows of the forest. One for the purists and easily up there in my top three downhills ever - and, yes, if you're wondering, I've got favourite climbs as well, cycling uphill can be fun in my book.

The descent back to the ocean also brought the temperature drop I was hoping for, and some. From 27C at the summit it was suddenly a relatively chilly 13C at sea level, despite still being under blue skies. Temperature inversion? Definitely.

The next 45 miles are a bit of a delightful blur of surf, beaches, sea lions and headlands. A blur that was, however, frequently punctuated by that temperature inversion. The boundary could only have been a hundred or so feet up but it made for the counter-intuitive concept of climbing into the 20C heat and then descending into the 13C cool. 7C doesn't sound much, but with it being the 'wrong-way-round' it caused some real issues with my thermoregulation.

Still, I made it here in one piece and hoping the forecast is right, being for things to cool back to civilized temps tomorrow as I begin the final 160 miles into San Fran.

..and, by the way, have you started humming the theme tune to Ms Fletcher's show yet? Cause it's been on repeat in my head since I arrived here 3 hrs ago.

When the wind, no longer chills

2009-04-22T05:34:00.002+01:00

Day 17, Stage 12 - Ferndale to Garberville
59 miles in 7hrs (incl. numerous juice stops and even more collapse-at-the-side-of-the-road-with-heat-exhaustion stops)
I awoke after a relatively sleepless night with still-tired legs and a still-strained and delicate stomach. The Mattole was looking like a non-starter and any lingering thoughts I had of doing it were finally vanquished when I put on my Camelbak outside the hotel and realised the waist strap needed tightened by some 3 or 4 inches from where it had been only on Saturday. Had I really been that I'll? Apparently so.

So, I turned left instead of right and rolled out into the late morning sunshine for a fast first 10 miles past the cows trying all the while to avoid shredding the numerous, seemingly suicidal butterflies. I felt almost good but then I hit the first hill of the day. It went up a trivial 200ft and I didn't, at least not easily. I knew then that the Mattole would have been a serious, if not terminal mistake. My tank was still very close to empty.

While missing out on the Mattole is gutting from a cycling point of view, fortunately the back-up route I was doing was by no means dull taking in the Avenue of the Giants (see pic). So, for most of the 32 miles of it I was back feeling like a three-year-old again and a three-year-old who was mercifully grateful for the shelter these mighty 'creatures' were giving as my thermometer had been showing over 20C when I'd first disappeared into the Avenue. It was now moving up markedly, even in the shade. By the time I'd arrived in Myers Flats, where my stomach was still quietly but adamantly insisting on a liquid only lunch, it was reading 30C in the shade. I was starting to fade and to make it worse, the trees were thinning and the temperature was continuing to increase.

Now, I'll be honest, I don't fully understand the concept of wind-chill. Sure, I get that it generally makes it feel colder but, as it gets warmer, it has less effect. Then, above around 32C, it all gets a bit bizarre (at least in my book) of actually making it feel warmer. Today was the first time I've actually experienced it on the bike but, believe me, it ain't pleasant to reach the top of a climb, dripping in sweat, hoping for the usual cooling breeze of the descent, but instead getting a blast of even warmer air. Something just isn't right and I could almost feel what little energy was left in me being sucked out by the heat.

The last six miles along the freeway, with the thermometer at 34C into Garberville were, frankly, hellish, almost comically so, but my spirits were lifted by the driver of the parked lorry who got out his cab to laugh at me collapsed in the shade from his trailer. I actually think he was quite worried, and probably rightly so.

I finally made it into Garberville and having gratefully checked into a motel here and done my stretches, I finally, for the first time in almost 3 days, feel hungry. Thankfully.

Here's hoping tomorrow's better, though, to be fair, the only thing that could be worse would be if I end up as carrion. Which was definitely not out the question today.

However, there's now a Mattole rat that's crept in my head quietly gnawing away.......

Recovery

2009-04-21T05:01:00.002+01:00

Day 16 -Rehydration Day
Feeling a lot more human today but still far from ideal. Just doing a rough calc. and I reckon I'm on about a 9,000 - 10,000 calorie deficit since Friday am (which works out at about 4kgs). Still, the weather's finally brightened up and it's been beautiful couple of days here in Ferndale with only the occasional but disconcertingly random tsunami warning siren disturbing the peace in this charming little town

Forecast is looking good for tomorrow but still not sure if I'm up to doing the Mattole, or more importantly the next 3 days after.

Will see what the morning brings.

Setback

2009-04-19T15:27:00.002+01:00

Day 15 - 'Rest Day'
Rest day, yeah right. After 2 weeks being stuffed full of all sorts, my stomach has thrown in the towel. It's 7.30 am over here and I reckon I've had about 3 hrs sleep having been repeatedly ill all night, unable to even keep water down.

It would be lunacy to attempt the monster stage tomorrow given how I'm feeling now so I'm either going to take the bail-out route or take an extra rest day here.

Off to try and get some sleep now.

The drugs do work

2009-04-19T06:12:00.002+01:00

Day 14, Stage 11 - Prairie Creek campsite to Ferndale 77 miles in 9hrs 20mins (incl. 2 large food stops)
Total distance - 852 miles
When Fausto Coppi, a cycling great of the 40's and 50's, was asked if he had taken drugs when cycling his response was at least honest being 'when necessary'. Which lead to the obvious next question 'when is it necessary?' To which Coppi replied 'Almost always'.

Well it was 'necessary' for me today as it quickly became clear to me that yesterday's blowing up combined with the lack of any substantial food in the evening had left me with one seriously heavy pair of legs today. An early double breakfast didn't do much good so I stopped off again after a pitiful 28 miles in ~3hrs 30mins, and decided to go for the nuclear option of chemical stimulants. Namely a cup of warm caffeine - my first coffee of the trip. It worked enough to get me through the next, thankfully flat, 50 miles, worryingly little of which I can remember as I'm lying here desperately trying to stay awake.

Looking forward to a much needed rest day tomorrow here in Ferndale which looks a fantastic little town - just the sort of place I needed to be in after the past couple of days.

The pic is the start of Monday's monster stage, the Mattole Road - 73 miles and 9000ft of climbing lie up that fairly harmless looking bit of tarmac making it easily the toughest day on paper of the whole trip. So I'm signing off to get as much rest as I can for it.

Big day, in many ways bar one

2009-04-18T06:28:00.002+01:00

Day 13, Stage 10 - Gold Beach to Prairie Creek Campsite
92 miles in 9hrs 25mins (incl. 1 food stop)
Total distance - 774 miles
Well, my Tourettes is back.

It's been a long, long day!

As I awoke at 7am having got out of the comfiest bed I've been in in a long time (at Ireland's Rustic Lodges) I wasn't best pleased to see the rain dancing in the puddles. Still, it's early, the forecast is good so it'll be burnt off soon, I thought.

So, I set out from Gold Beach, cinnamon bagel in hand, a bit miffed but set for a +90 mile day. Pretty soon the road pointed up into the cloud. I rode up. And it rained. I rode up more. And it rained more, and the visibility got worse (30-50yrds) and it stayed at 3C. After 2 hrs of numerous, wet 200-500ft climbs to viewpoints which my guidebook was raving about but which were today all showing the same shade of grey, I hit real mental low point for the trip. That's when the verbal affliction came back and this time I didn't even have any pain to take my mind off everything. I felt physically great a case of the flesh is willingly but the spirit is weak.

The meteorological and mental gloom continued for the 28 miles into Brooking (I think, I didn't care to look) where I stopped for my first franchise food of the trip in DQ. As I set off again the rain stopped, and a beautifully eerie mist started rising from the ground. Then, I spotted another rainbow fish of Yachats' ilk hung from the porch of a passing house. This one wasn't dancing but, when I looked up, the sun was starting to break through. It would take another 35 miles to do so properly but is was a start and enough to stop the flow of expletives.

I then essentially stumbled on the state line, crossing over from Oregon into California some 10 miles earlier than I had expected. 20 miles of cow-filled fields later I was in, and rapidly out of Crescent City after which the road ramped up sharply into the forest. Then something strange began to happen. It wasn't obvious for the first few hundred feet of climbing, but at around 600ft up I began shrinking, and by 800ft I was three year old again, riding a tiny tricycle through the woods. I was into the land of the giant redwoods, and I felt small. Seeing the size of them I now don't think there is such a thing as tree huggers here, they're just passing hikers who've been caught in the gravitational field of one of these leviathans. While in the forest the sun finally broke through and the road rolled out to glorious sunshine at the top of 700ft cliff overlooking the ocean. A rather hairy descent back to the sea followed - hairy cause at 30 mph it's difficult to tell if it's the shadow of a branch or if it's a large wheel-buckling crack in the road. I continued on through the sunshine and past the Trees of Mystery centre, complete with the not-insignificant wooden sculptures in the pic. Now I can understand the lumberjack, but the sky blue bull? Nope, I don't get it.

I was feeling great, enjoying the sunshine and thinking the stage was basically in the bag. But, it was far from it. As I started on the climb out from Klamath, with 10 miles to go, my engine spluttered to a grinding halt. I was empty, gone, finished. It's known in the cycling world as bonking (don't ask cause I don't know why) and is basically the same as 'hitting the wall' in running, only much more debilitating. Graeme Obree wrote that only a cyclist that's been through it can truly understand just how exhausted you can get on a bike in this situation. And I was there. A couple of bits of red liquorice and the remainder of my Gatorade got me very, very slowly, up the next 4 miles to the top of the Newton B Drury road - a truly stunning descent through the the Redwoods and down into the campsite for the night.

However, things still weren't finished there. Now for an area that's into it's outdoor pursuits you'd have thought that finding freeze-dried camping meals wouldn't be difficult, but every outdoors store I asked in all the way from Coos Bay looked at me rather strangely. Even the ranger in Crescent City couldn't help. But, he assured me there was a shop of some sort down here at the campsite.

Eh, nope. Nowt! If I'd had the energy then the Tourettes would have been back. I didn't.

So, dinner tonight has consisted of; one 330ml bottle of strawberry milk, 2 bits of red liquorice and half a pack of ham jerky. All told about some 500 calories vs the 7000 or so I burnt today. I'm seriously contemplating trying to tap a redwood for some sap.

Thankfully it's only a short 69 mile day tomorrow into Ferndale, my base camp for the +9000 ft day that is the Mattole Monster. However, I'll need to find food fast in the morning.

No signal here of any sort so will post this tomorrow when I find a motel with free WiFi that I can linger outside of.

On that topic, for those of you who've called/texted me in the past few days, I've been stuck on some phone network (Edge Wireless) since Tuesday that doesn't let me make calls or send texts. I not ignoring you.

Off to bed now, hungry.

Jetty cats pic

2009-04-17T06:52:00.001+01:00

The Jetty Cats of Gold Beach

2009-04-17T06:50:00.003+01:00

Day 12, Stage 9 - Coos Bay to Gold Beach
85 miles, 7hrs 55 mins (incl 2 food stops and countless photo/admiring the view stops)
Total distance covered - 682 miles
So, can one actually get bored of rounding headlands and seeing yet another seemingly endless beach with the waves crashing against a battalion of rocky outcrops?

Nope, not yet!

Well, today turned out to be by far the easiest day's cycling so-far as I very quickly found myself 35 miles in before I'd really woken up. The real key, I think, was that nothing was really hurt that much. Sure my left knee, buttocks and palms were all uncomfortable, and my legs are by no means feeling fresh, but relative to how I have been feeling on all the other stages I felt great. This continued through the impressive seascapes in Bandon and Port Oxford, with the biggest problem being the skip button on my headphones not working properly - I didn't realise I had so many Neil Diamond songs on my iPod.

The pic (in the next entry) is of some ferrel cats that are actually one of Gold Beach's tourist attractions. I'd actually been looking forward to seeing them all day.

I'm now getting into a bit of a routine, so here's what an average day looks for me

7.30am - Wake up, shower, repack kit
8.30am - Set off
8.35am - Find nearest garage and fill up Camelbak with 3 liters of Gatorade
11.30am - Stop for enormous amounts of food
5pm - Arrive at destination; check in, stretch, shower, have coughing fit
6.30pm - Out to find dinner
8pm - Watch Weather Channel, write blog, check out route & highlights for next day
9pm - Bed

As I said on Sunday, it ain't no holiday.

Last night in Oregon tonight as crossing into California tomorrow, into the land of the giant redwoods.

Breakfast of Champions, or Fat Boys

2009-04-16T03:54:00.001+01:00

Day 11- Rest Day
Alas it didn't turn out to strictly be a rest day today as I had to take the bike a couple of miles up the road to North Bend to get the rear wheel rebuilt by the very helpful folk at Moe's Bike shop. However, those 5 miles confirmed to me both just how stuffed I am and also, even if I wasn't, then just how little there was to see in this town - basically think Dundee and you're not far off. So a day of much resting, laundry and excessive eating ensued. Speaking of copious consumption, this pic was from earlier in the trip, in the Sunflour cafe across the road from Wayne & Stacey's in Seattle. While I didn't quite manage it all that day, it shows the sort of quantity that's now a daily occurrence for me.

Wifi in the motel stuffed hence I'll likely not be able to post this til I set off to Gold Beach tomorrow. Edging even closer to California, and the monster day on the Mattole Road.

...and the rainbow fish started dancing

2009-04-15T06:42:00.003+01:00

Day 10, Stage 8 - Newport to Coos Bay
98 miles, 8hrs 40 mins (incl. 1 food stop)
It was a restless night last night, not least because I was too tired to get up and switch off the heater I'd left on to dry my clothes, but principally because Sunday's storm had knocked me 20ish miles behind schedule so I knew that, if I was to get back on track, then I was on for having to do a not- insignificant 98 mile day - longer than I'd ever ridden before, even on an unladen bike. The task seemed even more difficult when I awoke to vague recollections of switching my alarm off, something I'd obviously done 1hr 40mins before. As a result, it wasn't until 9.15 that I finally rolled out onto the damp Newport streets, though thankfully under blue skies. There was, however, no sign at all of the tailwind I'd been hoping for but the slate-smooth roads made for great early progress alongside a seemingly endless sandy Pacific beach. One thing that I was acutely aware of in the damp morning air of those early miles was the distinctive aromatic smell of the US' largest cash crop. Now I'd thought it was only a Northern California thing, but obviously not. Anyway, I pedalled on and quickly found myself in the delightful little village of Yachats, where I would have stayed last night but for the storm delays. Stopping off in the Blue Whale restaurant I ordered a breakfast so vast the waitress announced it's details to the whole cafe. Thinking about it, the order was perhaps, in no small way, influenced by what I'd been inhaling in those early miles. As I sat hoovering up copious amounts of French toast I knew Coos Bay, at some 76 miles further down the road, was a big, big ask without the tailwind I'd been counting on.

And then, out the corner of my eye it started twitching.

A few more slices of toast later and it didn't just twitch but started meaningfully fluttering. It was a multi-coloured windsock fish outside the house next door and it was positively dancing in the breeze ... my tailwind had arrived! I then knew I was making it to Coos.

The next 20 miles weaving up and around the various headlands easily gave Lake Crescent a run for it's money in terms of spectacular scenery and it was topped off by the beautifully contrasting view from Sea Lion Cave; rugged outcrops to the north and seemingly endless dunes to the south. From here a fabulous 35-40mph decent took me into the start of dune country. However, when I got to the bottom I got that cyclist's sixth sense again that something wasn't quite right about the bike. Looking down, I noticed a disconcerting wobble in the rear wheel. Now as this was a new wheel I just got before the trip I was expecting some of the spokes to work loose therefore, I had been checking them along the trip. But, when I stopped to check them this time I was more than a touch shocked to realise that at least a dozen or so spokes were looser than Ulrika Johnson's chastity belt. A 20 minute rebuild ensued and I set off, with the wind at my back for another 50 sand-dune-filled miles, stopping only for another couple of rebuilds before finally rolling into the somewhat grim Coos Bay. It's meant to be a rest day here for me tomorrow but hiring a car to get out of here for the day looks like the best option as this place ain't the prettiest, even in the sun.

So, the cyclists amongst you are probably asking, why stop at 98 miles and not go for the symbolic 100? Well I'm saving that cycling milestone as a carrot for later in the trip. I've a 113 mile day pencilled in to take me into Moab. Figured that's an appropriate place to do my first century.

Speaking of big days, the toughest day of the trip, on paper at least, is drawing closer. I'd rather not talk about it now though. Once I give the details you'll understand why.

And apologies for yet another gratuitous beach picture, but it was the story of the day.

Today, Matthew, I'm going to be a tourist

2009-04-14T05:56:00.001+01:00

Day 9, Stage 7 - Tillamook to Newport
75 miles in a very chilled 8hrs 40mins
Before I start, whatever has happened to Matthew Kelly. Can't say I care, but...

Anyway, after yesterday's not-so-pacific Pacific tempest I was delighted to look out the window this morning to see blue sky. Despite this it actually turned out to be the coldest day so far with a chilly morning temp. of 2C and a high of only 7C. Thankfully, though, the kit is doing a great job of keeping me warm and did so again today.

The day started off with me racing to dodge the showers through fields full of Tillamook cows but I quickly became aware that both knees were aching, slowing my progress somewhat. Probably a combination of the cold from the occasional hailstorm in the morning combined with all the in-the-saddle hard pedalling into the wind I did yesterday. However, I was in no rush today and cruised down the coast through more picturesque towns with my only delay being my first puncture of the trip, just north of Depoe Bay.

I then decided to drop off highway 101 for the first time for an extremely leisurely spin along Otter Crest Loop and to finally take in some sights such as Cape Foulweather and the Devil's Punchbowl, which were both considerably better than their names suggest and well worth the detour, as the pic hopefully shows. Particularly enjoyable was watching the ground squirrels at the punchbowl (at least I think that's what they were - they looked like squirrels and living in burrows). From there I buzzed along in the cold sunshine over the bridge at Newport choosing my motel purely because it's near proximity to the Rogue Brewery.

Looking ahead to tomorrow, the weather system is moving across the country and as a result, the wind that was my Nemesis in Sunday, is forecast to turn into a 20mph NNW tailwind. Could well be a fun day.

Apologies for the short blog today. The bar in the Brewery was strictly mobile-free. Despite this, it was a great little sample house not least because I got I.D'd before getting any of the great beers, but also because it served a Kobe beef chili - which is either a genius or madness recipe.

This ... ain't no holiday ...

2009-04-13T05:14:00.003+01:00

Day 8, Stage 6 - Astoria to Tillamook
65 miles, 7hrs 30mins (incl. 1 short food stop), yes really that slow.
Before I start, I have to admit that I had a sense of humour failure today of truly epic proportions. Today I was faced with the reality that this ain't some quaint little biking holiday I'm on but a full-on endurance adventure trip. It started even before I set off as I was loading the bags on the bike in the car park of the very pleasant Cannary Pier Hotel that's been home for the last couple of nights. As was forecast, it was raining, hard, very hard, and I was kitted out in my waterproofs already having resigned myself to a long and rainy day. What I hadn't counted on was the headwind, but within 500 yards I was all too aware of it. It was then I remembered back to the slightly nervous way the waitress who served me breakfast in South Bend on Friday had mentioned the 'little breeze'' that was expected in the next few days. But this wasn't a little breeze, it was a +20mph direct headwind. Given the fully-laden bike has all the aerodynamics of a Sherman tank, complete with a 30ft spinnaker sail, I quickly realised that this was going to be one seriously testing day. And so it turned out. The first 25 miles were easily the toughest flat-road cycling I've ever done (Pete, think that few mile ride into Balmoral, and some). To put it into perspective, despite being refreshed after a rest day and going full out on flat smooth roads, I only covered 8.9 miles in the first hour. I honestly thought I'd developed Tourettes in the first few hours as the all too frequent gusts of wind drew increasingly loud, abusive and irrational rants from me which were quickly carried carried away in the wind. Who knows what any locals thought of me. The only positive about these early miles was the fact that I didn't need to stop to drink, I just did a Bjarne Riis basking shark impression and inhaled the rain.

This, however, all turned out just to be mere trivial warm up to the 'main event'. Now, in reading other peoples accounts of cycling the Pacific route one couple mentioned something about un-nerving cycling along exposed cliffs somewhere on the coast. Well I think I found them today. 30 miles into the trip the road headed upwards and disconcertingly into the misty trees. Then, the trees cleared, or at least they did in the 30 yards or so of visibility there was, and I rounded the corner...

...or should I say I tried to round the corner but was confronted with a gale being funneled along the cliffs on which the road was hung. I could hardly pedal and was even blown over at one point. Looking up through the gale at the road disappearing into the mist I knew I couldn't ride into it, even if there wasn't a sheer 500ft cliff over the woefully inadequate 2 foot high wall at the side of the road. So what to do; wait in one of the 'viewpoints' in the hope it would clear? turn back, or try to press on. Following Joe Simpson's great advice of 'you've got to keep making decisions, they may be the wrong ones'' I got off the bike and tentatively pushed it up into the grey, ready at any moment to let go and watch it be blow over the cliff if need be. All the while listening for the RVs rumbling up the road out the gloom. In all my years of cycling I'd never actually been terrified before, until today.

So, it was with great relief I found myself at the summit of the climb and soon rolling down out of the mist into, and through, Manzanita. Then, somewhat in a daze through the next 30 rainy miles of probably picturesque little coastal villages onto the bizarre cheese town of Tillamook - my resting point for the night.

I actually only stopped to take one picture all day (and one video clip atop said cliffs - I look and sound more terrified than I remember) hence, today's blog snap in the laundry in Tillamook. A real shame, I think as I actually get the feeling that it was a glorious part of the world I was going through today and I suspect it would have been a fantastic day's riding on a clear, still day. Ah well, next time ;)

Still, I'm another 50 or so miles nearer the equator and due to cross the symbolic 45th Parallel tomorrow. Just hoping the weather improves.

Rest Day Beer Tray

2009-04-11T21:16:00.001+01:00

Well there's plenty calories in beer isn't there?

They.....have.....arrived!

2009-04-11T05:56:00.002+01:00

Day 6, Stage 5 - Aberdeen to Astoria
85 miles, 7hrs 30mins (incl. 1 eat-til-my-stomach-hurt food stop)
Delighted to have arrived safely under glorious blue skies into Astoria in Oregon, the second state on the trip. I'm currently supping much needed celebratory ales in the Wet Dog Brewery - good call by the way, Gus.

As for the day, well I really struggled to get myself going this morning having looked out the motel window to see cold rain falling on the grey streets of Aberdeen. Hmm, sound a familiar image to anyone? Eventually I set off reasonably late at 9.10 and struggled, badly, through the first 15 miles of, yes you guessed it, trees and logging trucks. I was definitely feeling mentally beat and even had to play my joker card of finally putting on the iPod for the first time which helped lift me along until I reached the quaint small twin towns of Raymond and South Bend where I proceeded to eat enough pancakes & French toast to hurt. This was then followed by another 30 miles of slightly irritating 50-100 ft climb/descent cycles catching fleeting glimpses of the sea between the, yup, trees. And then came the rain again. But, at 59 miles in, I reached a junction where the trees cleared, the sun came out and I decided to take the longer, but I hoped more scenic, road to Astoria. At that moment, they arrived. Now I didn't see the delivery truck, nor the team of surgeons complete with operating theatre, but somewhere within the next half a mile my cycling legs were officially fitted. And I rode, and I rode, and rode some more. Stomping along out the saddle at a pace I've not got close to all trip, frequently telling myself to take it easy and slow down. At one point I actually found myself looking round to check if my kit bags had fallen off the bike it felt so fast. I remember Lance Armstrong's saying his teammate, George Hincape, described it as a 'no chain' moment - when the pedalling is so easy it feels like there's no chain on the bike. Well that's exactly how it felt, all the way through 25 miles of sunshine into Astoria. The final four miles of which were over this, the not insignificant Astoria-Megler bridge, all 4 miles of it over the Columbia River basin. Definitely one on the highlights of the trip so far. It's really quite big.

In spite of the truly awesome last 25 miles it's a much needed rest day tomorrow and I've already booked myself in for a deep tissue massage (and before certain of you gents comment, I asked the receptionist, not the concierge, though apparently I just need to dial 0 for the 'pillow menu'). All I can say is I hope said masseuse likes a challenge!

Can't see the, err, anything for the trees

2009-04-10T05:02:00.001+01:00

Day 5, Stage 4 - Kalaloch to Aberdeen
75 miles, 7hrs 30mins (incl. 1 food stop)
Set off this morning at 8.20 under grey skies and 4C fully kitted out in my waterproofs. In truth, I didn't actually get rained on until some 20 miles into the day, then it rained lots, though, all told I only got about 1hr of rain all day (my first rain of the whole trip). When I told the local loggers over breakfast in the Spartan, though surprisingly welcoming J&J cafe at the north of Quinalt that it was the first rain I'd seen in 5 days in the state they accused me of being some sort of sun god.

On the topic of the loggers, I just have to mention the drivers the logging trucks here in Washington. Approx ever third vehicle that passes me on the roads is one of these pictured above, often with an extra trailer to boot. And while they look, and sound terrifying, I can honestly say that I can't believe there's a more courteous group of truck drivers anywhere out there. Even when I'm trundling along well into the shoulder lane of the road these guys go well out their way taking their rigs well onto the other carriageway to give me room. Now my pet theory I've come up with is that this seemingly relaxed attitude to their driving is a result of the nature of their 'quarry' - trees, there's seemingly billions of them here, they're not going anywhere and the harvesting of them means thinking in terms of multi-decades. As a result a couple of seconds being held up behind a bike isn't anything worth getting stressed about. Just a theory.

In terms of me, good news is that my knee is considerably better once again. Nothing more than a dull ache now and I was actually able to do some cycling out the saddle today. Which is just as well as the inability to stand yesterday has left me somewhat tender and swollen. It basically feels like a yellow dot squash ball has been surgically implanted under the skin of each buttock. Not too painful but very very weird. In terms of the ride today, it was very much a 'game of two halves' with a very slow 3hrs 30mins to do the first 30 miles before food followed by a respectable 3hrs 40mins for the next 45miles. Not sure what was in those pancakes at J&J's but it definitely worked.

Well, I'm shattered, so am off to bed, at only 8.30. Very much looking forward to rolling over the 4 miles of the Astoria-Megler bridge tomorrow into Oregon for a much needed rest day.

Before I go, though, I must say many, many thanks to all of you sending you messages/comments to me here and apologies for not getting back to you all. There definitely helping keeping me going along the way.

Wishing you all a good Easter weekend.

Life's a Beach

2009-04-09T04:10:00.002+01:00

Stage 3, Lake Crescent to Kalaloch Lodge
65 miles, 8hrs 10mins (incl. food stops)
Mostly a really tough day today, both physically and mentally. The three-or-so mile climb out from Fairholm campground was probably up there as one of the least enjoyable i.e. most painful things I've ever done, and I ain't kidding. My left knee was not pleasant at all and I was going slower than walking pace. Therefore, I had resigned myself to a long, long day in the saddle, with the emphasis on 'in'. However, at the top of the climb - which, incidentally came some 410ft, earlier than the gps turd was saying it would - the knee suddenly improved. Still pretty sore but considerably better. I was therefore able to push on, albeit at a painful average of less than 10mph, until some 47 miles, of rather bland, grey-skied, trees-as-far-as-the-eye-can-see scenery when, for no apparent reason, another dramatic improvement happened. As a result, for the first time all day I was able to pedal standing up for more than half a pedal stroke. Now this excess sitting time has, unsurprisingly, not done my sit bones any favours. Slapped on the arse by an overly affectionate drunken elephant would be a fair description of how I'm feeling. Still, takes my mind off the sore knee I guess. The only real highlight of those first 47 was getting to the point where the road turned south; and knowing I'd be heading in that general direction, for the next ~1,800 miles.

All the pain and tedium was forgotten when I finally reached the mighty Pacific Ocean. An early landmark on the trip for me. I got a massive lift from my first glimpse of it and found myself suddenly spinning along the last six miles at a respectable 16mph (well it's respectable for a fully laden bike, Dave).

Now I had been thinking of camping again tonight, but figured that three nights outside this early in the trip was a bit too much to take. So, I'm safely checked into the Kalaloch Lodge. Admittedly, the room smells like the toilets at a fashion show after lunch, but I'm guessing I don't exactly smell to plush myself, and there's also no TV. But with this pic as the view from my window/bed, I'm not complaining about anything. There's something marvelously calming about watching the waves roll in and crash on the shore...

However, on a different note, the whole day was put massively into perspective by the text I received early this morning from my good friend in Edinburgh, Mike Linn, letting me know that his mother, Betty, had finally lost her battle with cancer. Personally I'll remember Betty as always smiling and wonderfully welcoming and, despite my numerous comments to the contrary about Mike, together with Chris she really did a great job in raising their two kids.

My thoughts are with you.

Things that go bump in the night

2009-04-08T18:36:00.002+01:00

Well there was something big out there last night, though I reckon it was just a deer. Didn't dare look though. Still, managed to get as solid a 12 hrs sleep as you can when camping.

Currently sitting in the Hungry Bear cafe ( which has wifi) so thought I'd do a quick post 15 miles into stage 3. I'm just trying to force down an enormous plate of chips on top of a large plate of french toast.

Knee was hurting like heck for the first few miles but has improved massively in the past 10 miles. Clouded over today but still dry at the moment. Hoping to make it to Kalaloch before the rain that's forecast starts.

Rest day

2009-04-07T16:39:00.001+01:00

Early Tuesday morning over here. Decided to take the rest day and not
press on today. Only another 12hrs lying here in the sun :)

Here's to global warming

2009-04-07T05:02:00.004+01:00

Stage 2 - Port Townsend to Lake Crescent
77 miles, 8hrs 20mins (incl. food stops)
Another absolutely glorious day today with the temperature creeping up to 20C made for a beautiful 77 miles in the sun. Today's route took me along highway 101 on Washington's north-west corner, through Sequim and Port Angeles to the banks of Lake Crescent in the heart of the Olympic National Park. Sitting here at a totally calm and peaceful campsite (more on that later) it's pretty darn easy to see why it's a National Park. The scenery is just so, so big and I felt like I could almost hear David Attenbourgh's voice-over announcing the arrival of spring.

The only downside on the day, and a not insignificant one is my left knee was playing up. It had been giving me a bit of trouble in training but nothing major. Today was a different matter though, really quite painful necessitating a lot of one-legged cycling in the last few miles.

When I finally arrived at the campsite it turned out to be closed, despite every website I read saying it was open year-round. Alas, I actually ain't that fussed as it means I'm the only one here, making the setting even more idyllic. I also, obviously, had my pick of the camping sites so chose the one giving the view above, with Storm King in the distance, out my tent. Pretty awesome. Only downside is that, being the only one here doesn't exactly help my odds if any hungry bears do stumble through camp. And there are bear-proof food storage bins here so they are about, as are mountain lions. Oh great.

Tomorrow was meant to be a rest day, but with a shorter stage planned and a great forecast (and no running water/toilets here) I might just bash on with stage 3, providing the knee has improved.

Anyway, I'm turning in for the night, hugging my can of bear spray and looking forward to the sunrise over the mountains. Hopefully.

The road is long, with many a...

2009-04-06T00:45:00.003+01:00

Stage 1 - Seattle to Port Townsend.
49 miles, 3hrs 50mins
Safely checked in to the great little Palace Hotel in Port Townsend having rolled off the Seattle-Bainbridge ferry at 10am this morning (picture below is at the very start of the road). I really couldn't have wished for a better first day wish perfect biking weather (blue sky, temperature around 17C, dry and not a breath of wind). Also the roads were ideal for cycling with a smooth wide shoulder lane and the drivers being super courteous when passing. Add to that the bike worked a treat, though it is really, really heavy. Only small issue was, me. Physically I feel great but mentally I'll need to be a bit more disciplined than I was today as I did a couple of things I really shouldn't have en route; firstly zipping past a group of roadies on the climb out of Port Gamble (I just couldn't resist it), but more important was not stopping for lunch. While I got away with it on today's short stage I'll need to make myself resist that 'summit fever'-like urge to just keep going for a few miles more before stopping, no just a few more. I certainly won't get away with it on some of the desert stages.

With so much of my focus on the bike and how I was feeling I actually ended up paying little attention to the scenery and surroundings and after one glance up at the Olympic mountain range when crossing the Hood Bridge saw me almost go headfirst over the edge in shock at how impressive it was I took to looking even less. Though, of what little I saw it looks like a lovely part of the world.

On a different topic, I've also got to say a big thank you to Angus for driving over from Montana to meet me at the airport. Also his friends, Wayne and Stacey, for their hospitality over the past few days in Seattle and particularly for feeding me enough Jack Daniels spaghetti bolanase last night to keep me going till I reach California!

Looking to tomorrow, forecast is still looking good for what is a somewhat tougher day with 77 miles, +4000ft of climbing and only a tent to stay in at the end of the stage. I also suspect I won't get any phone signal there so might not be able to post anything here for a couple of days.

Anyway, I'm off out to find food. Don't care what, quantity is all that matters.

It Lives! It Liives!

2009-04-05T07:04:00.001+01:00

It arrived at lunchtime today so after two hours putting it back
together I'm now good to go.

...well, sort of.

No Excuses

2009-04-04T16:20:00.002+01:00

(Sat 4th, 8am) Things are definitely looking up. While I've still not got my bike it's apparently made it to Seattle, somewhere, so should be here today. Even better news came from the Komo News weatherman saying that a high pressure system has just formed off the west coast which'll stop the rain & cold air that was expected next week from making landfall. As a result it'll be some 10C or so warmer than 2C-7C highs I was fearing, lots. He even went as far as to cheerily proclaim that Spring has arrived. Another bit of good news was I managed to pick up a can of bear spray (for mere 50 bucks - now there's premium pricing on a product if ever I saw it). Guess I won't even be able to use the bear-ate-my-liver excuse then.

It's beginning to look like this whole show might actually get on the road.

Touchdown, albeit sans bike

2009-04-03T05:18:00.001+01:00

Let's be honest I'm struggling to convince myself that I'm about to do what I'm about to do. So, I'm not really that surprised that the US immigration folk didn't believe me. But, they were all set to let me through once I'd gone down to get my bike from baggage. Alas when I returned with no bike and only a sheet of A4 paper saying my bike was lost it became an altogether more complex and time consuming process that almost involved rubber gloves. Finally got through an hour and a half later to meet a perplexed Mr MacIver - they took my phone as well). Still here in one piece and hoping to see the bike tomorrow.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

2009-04-01T15:33:00.007+01:00

So, all going well, 24 hrs from now I'll be jetting my way across the Atlantic. My good friend from school, Angus MacIver, has very kindly decided to make the trip all the way from Helena, Montana to meet me at the airport so I'm not lugging 40+kg of kit through some strange city. Speaking of the kit, the packing has actually gone surprisingly well (touchwood) even with with all the extra cold-weather kit I've had to pack at the last minute. As you can see, I've even been able to take shampoo off the kit list. And, no, those aren't stripes from the clippers, its strange ridges in my bonce.

The one thing that still isn't working properly is the GPS system (see my earlier blog). Given its shape and general uselessness, I've decided to christen it 'the turd' for the trip. Anyone caring to read my review of it on Amazon can find it at this link
http://www.amazon.co.uk/product-reviews/B001E9651O/ref=cm_cr_pr_viewpnt_sr_1?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=0&filterBy=addOneStar

Signing off from Scotland.
Fraser

Fighting Weight. More Like Fighting Weight

2009-04-01T10:31:00.001+01:00

I've just made a quick note of what shape I'm in before I head off. HR and bp figs are probably skewed up markedly as I picked up a cold at the weekend (e.g resting HR is normally in the 45-55bpm range). None-the-less, gives me a baseline for when I'm finished.

Mass
Weight 96.3kg
Body fat 21.6% (20.8kg)
Total body water 52.4% (50.5kg)

Volume
Chest 42"
Belly of happiness 40"
Thigh circum. 24.5"
Calf circum. 18"

Pressure
Systolic b.p. 135
Diastolic b.p. 85
Heart rate 67bpm

The Gathering Storm

2009-03-29T20:23:00.003+01:00

Having just checked out the long range forecast for the first few days of the route it's looking like I can kiss goodbye to any chance of an easy start to the trip. With the forecast for Port Angeles on a week on Wednesday being for rain, which is no surprise, but also disturbingly cold with a high of only +3C (vs an average early April high of +13C. Looks like I'm going to have to add a fleece, balaclava and who knows what else to the ever growing kit list. Perhaps I should have paid a bit more attention to the fact that none of the hotels etc. opened in that neck of the woods until mid May.

Still, it all adds to the challenge and, on the bright side, I'm hoping it might be too cold for the local bears to venture out 'investigating' the residents of their nearby campsites.

Every Little Helps

2009-03-27T11:15:00.002Z

Just starting to pack up the kit for the final time. However, given I'm actually struggling to lift the bike once it's fully kitted out (bike & kit now coming in at around 40kg) I've embarked on a weight-saving mission that is becoming almost OCD in nature. As a result, everything, and I mean everything, is being checked and recheck to see if a) I really need it, and b) do I need all of it ... and then it's being checked again. The toothbrush was one of the more obvious targets but zip ties trimmed to the minimum, labels cut off clothes and even shortening the strings on my kite (my one and only real luxury item on the trip) are just some the things not to make it into the final packing. A severe haircut and nail trim are next on the list.

GPS'd Off

2009-03-25T03:32:00.004Z

Half four in the morning and after numerous fruitless phone calls to the Garmin GPS helpdesk and several computer crashes later I'm calling it quits having only managed to program about a quarter of the route into my new GPS (a Garmin Oregon 400t , if you're wondering) . Of all the many, many pieces of kit I've bought for the trip this has easily made it into my top three of 'definitely-not-worth-the-money' list.

Tempted to leave the thing behind and just pack a sextant!

Loving the Fairies...

2009-03-23T20:37:00.008Z

...the Glentress 'Trailfairies' that is. The ardent crew who've built what are surely some of, if not the best mountain bike trails in the UK at the Glentress mountain bike centre(http://www.forestry.gov.uk/forestry/achs-5rnfvj). Their creations include this great section of boardwalk and other joys such as the 'wall of death' (which, incidentally was closed today - worrying).

Well, I decided to head down there and hire a bike for the day as my steed is currently in pieces in the workshop of Edinburgh Bicycle for a prolonged and increasingly expensive service (I think I could probably have bought myself a motorbike complete with fuel for my trip for the amount this is going to cost).

If I were to be honest, I was a touch hesitant about going there so close to my departure as the last time I went for a spin there I ended up with a very large haematoma under my rib cage having fallen....badly....in the car park....onto a flower pot. It was actually more embarrassing than it was painful but it was trip-to-casualty-for-chest-x-ray sore. I was even more nervous today when the only bike I could get to hire was too small for me, had loose front suspension and a knackered saddle. Thankfully, though, all went well. And when the tails are as good as this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvGvXJT05x8 then who needs four grand's worth of full suspension machinery.

As an aside, I did actually see one of the elusive trailbuilders in the forest today - he looked about 17 stone, wielding a shovel and was about to get into a JCB - yup, I decided against calling him a fairy.

Losing the Ability to Walk

2009-03-20T13:04:00.005Z

Cycling lots does some funny things to my body. While there's the obvious changes I'd expect, one of the stranger ones I get when I've spent many days and many miles on the bike is the inability to walk properly. This isn't due to tiredness (or anything else less pleasant before you ask) but just due to what feels like my walking leg muscles seemingly having 'evolved' into cycling muscles. If that's happened already then what am I going to be like in 3 months time. I'm somewhat nervous!

On the topic of evolving, I just found this topical little poster by Mike Rosulek. Delighted to see you can get it on a T-shirt as well...

http://www.zazzle.co.uk/very_gradual_change_we_can_believe_in_tshirt-235487367914303657

If the whole being a non-American-Lycra-wearing-cyclist isn't going to be enough to get me shot at in the deep south (and I reckon it will be) then this looks like the perfect attire for attracting those not-so-stray bullets.

As an aside, just a thought for a Friday afternoon but, given creationists are more likely to have guns than evolutionists (I assume - I think safely) does that mean the theory of evolution will be evolved-by-shooting out of existence in the US?

Mountain Bike Mecca

2009-03-20T00:52:00.010Z

I've been good as of late, having done no real tinkering to the route for the past few weeks. However, as I'm sitting here at almost 2am noting down the local bike shops along the way (or more importantly, where there ain't any) I think that's all about to change, because of two words ... Slickrock, Moab. Probably the world's best know mountain bike route. An almost mythical place to the fat-tyred cyclists amongst us and one of those places like Monaco, St Andrews, Wimbledon, Alpe d'Huez, Peahi, Trollveggen, where the place is the sport.

Now I'd previously spotted that the route I was planning was going to take me to about 100 miles south of Moab, but had reluctantly decided I didn't think it would be worth the detour (incidentally, I briefly, and very foolishly, said the same thing about the Grand Canyon when first drawing up the route 6 months ago). But then I stumbled upon this tonight ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmDZUY5kGdw

Worth the 3 day, 180 mile detour just to ride that 10 mile loop? I think I shall definitely be finding out.

Here's One I Made Earlier

2009-03-18T20:10:00.005Z

To give rightful credit where its due it was actually Pete Smith who took the time and effort to write up this epic MTB trip we did a couple of years ago that I stumbled upon this evening - a thoroughly memorable four day circular route in the heart of Scotland taking in Fort William, Fort Augustus, Loch Laggan and Corrour.

http://www.offroadadventures-online.com/rr061.html

Worryingly though, is that reading through this account has just brought back memories to me of just how tired and hungry I was on that trip ..... and that was only a four day jaunt. Just what the heck have I just set myself up to do in these coming months?!

Quick Release....Too Quick

2009-03-17T17:31:00.010Z

As with most cyclists who've ridden the same bike for a number of years, I'm fairly well tuned into how my bike is working, and in particular any potential/developing problems with it. Now sometimes the problems are blatantly obvious, such as the snapped chains, exploding rims and snapped handlebar to name a few of the more major problems I've had happen to me (believe me, the last one was an experience and a half when it happened in a race at ~25 mph). At other times it's less obvious but you just sense something isn't quite right.

Well I got that feeling this morning as I was spinning into town on today's training ride. Nothing looked wrong on the bike as I buzzed along so it did cross my mind that it might just have been the fact that I was tired having been up til 2.30am last light looking at Beaver on the web...it's a town on Highway 101, nine miles north of Forks, Washington, by the way, and has the marvelously named Stormin' Norman Road. Anyway, after 5 miles or so zipping through the busy traffic I was more convinced that something definitely was wrong so stopped to check out the bike. Upon lifting the the bike up onto the kerb, the back wheel promptly fell out the frame. Disturbing? Eh, very! What I reckon happened is that in taking it off the turbo-trainer this morning I must have undone the quick release. Still, I got away with it and am currently feeling very, very lucky to have done so.

Got this snap once I'd got into town.