one hundred ninety four

NIAGARA FALLS

 I reached Niagara Fall New York. I rode the Erie Canal until it got boring about seventy miles. 

I rode a while with a local man, one of those special people without a filter.  He had an old rusty Huffy bicycle that needed a lot of work. I made a few adjustments to make it ridable. He was ready to ride with me to the coast but his mom talked him out of it. We rode a mile or two to the rail road tracks where he told his mom he would stop and said goodbye. 

I asked a guy working in a parking garage about motels. He was very interested in what I was doing. After I arrived home he emailed me several times to tell me he was building a touring rig and planing his own adventure.

I found a motel owned by an Indian woman, go figure. She made a big fuss about how I looked. She wanted to put me in an Indie movie. She gave me a room for $25 and invited me to eat with there family. She was actually a movie producer and showed me a few she produced. I was flattered, had a cheap room, home cooked meal but I never heard from her again. 

I am a little thin but I've reached a new level of fitness and toughness. I can ride all day, eat anything, sleep anywhere, and stink up the finest restaurants. I maybe black listed from Sizzler because I eat too much, but I do cook my own meals, well mostly.

Niagara Falls was more then I expected. On to Lake Ontario.

one hundred ninety three

COUNTRY SMELLS

The breeze was humid but cool. The birds chirped in several languages, the air was fresh but lightly manure scented. The beginning of a long day of cycling through beautiful Iowa farm land. 

The moving pictures, the sounds, the smells, and sensations will run through my mind for years to come. My hope is that you can feel and understand these special days through my pictures and words.

one hundred ninety two

TIME FOR A NECESSARY BREAK

After 36 days or more on the road, I have developed the art of being discreet with some necessary bodily functions. On the occasion that I use indoor plumbing, it is a strange sensation not having to watch for cars.

one hundred ninety one

THIS MUST HAVE A STORY

An abandoned tree house in Iowa, I wish I knew it's story. 

one hundred ninety

A WELCOME STOP WITH AN OLD FRIEND

This is John, one of my greatest friends. I knew him in Ohio, then he moved to Arizona where I later moved. John is my "good for me Friend" because he knows me well enough to tell me things I need to hear. He is a man of character and has a great heart, we have had some wonderful and much needed conversations. I'll leave in the morning for wherever.

one hundred eighty nine

A DAY OFF OF THE BIKE

This as an old trolley car  from Chicago. I hope to ride one of these at a local museum later today. I have been off of the bike a full day and will be today. I have a beard, I'm a few pounds lighter and I have less money. 

I'm thinking about heading south to Florida, but I'm still not sure. I've traveled 2800 miles so far. Boston would be 900, Key West Florida would only be 1300...hmmmmmm? I'm torn because I'm wanting to get back home, but don't want this adventure to end.....hmmmmmm? 

Time to break out the maps. By the way those are tan lines not my socks.

one hundred eighty eight

NIGHT AT THE RACES

I reached Chicago Friday afternoon. I slept in a real bed and used inside plumbing at an old friends home. John and Debbie are old friends from Ohio and Phoenix. 

My bike needed some new parts in Omaha. The trip across Iowa was a learning experience because if the truly bad riding conditions. Not one road had a paved shoulder except for I-80 which restricts bicycles. 

A week ago Friday I had a great night at the local mud track car race. I was searching for a restaurant which had closed when I ran into a young farmer who offered me water. 

I asked about the race cars in tow I had seen throughout the day. He said there was a race in the next town 25 miles away. Then he asked if I wanted to go, this was the second time this exact thing happened. 

I camped most of Iowa and Illinois, only one rainy night and one awful day of headwinds. This is absolutely beautiful farm country. I’m glad so many of you are following my blog, I feel like I'm not so alone. Thanks to everyone who posted a comment, keep it up.

one hundred eighty seven

MAKING PEACE WITH THE VOICES

I have had just about enough solitude. I'm again bonded enough to communicate with cattle. My MP3 player broke, no radio, or cell phone and endless distances between anything man made. 

One good thing I've made peace with the voices in my head.

one hundred eighty six

MORNING FROST

I like this picture now that I'm warm, it was a cold morning in Utah.

one hundred eighty five

SHOP LOCAL

700 miles and no Walmart, now that's country. The only store for thirty miles was owned by a young couple who also farmed nearby. It is refreshing to find small America. 

The cash register was a metal box that I think was made for fishing tackle. and ran on the honor system. This place had an innocence that is lost in our big cities. No locked cars, alarm systems, or impatient words. It was worth the ride to know tis still exists.

one hundred eighty four

YOU CANNOT COMPREHEND HOW THIS TASTES

Heavy fuel for Highway 50, the loneliest highway through Nevada. I have an all new concept of BIG. This place is harsh and baron, but I find is amazingly soothing.

one hundred eighty three

NO ONE CAN SEE YOU PUSH IT

The mountain passes were still white and cold. At 7000 ft and over you feel it. No matter how conditioned you are it takes a toll on your lungs. Especially this 55 year set I have. 

I discovered I can sit and spin up the mountain at 4.5 mph or I can get off and push it at 3.3 mph. I'm not embarrassed to say I pushed it over the top.

It's not that you get out of breath, you just feel weak and wimpy. Now that I am again at sub 2000 ft I feel much stronger. I cranked out seven 100 plus days and still had some kick when I arrived in Omaha. 

I will assess the next move in Chicago and head for Boston or Key West Florida.

one hundred eighty two

HAVING THE RIGHT GEAR

A cold night in a free off road Utah campsite near Bryce Canyon. The smell of Sage brush and sub freezing temperatures. 

I have a warm tent, cozy bedding, hot coffee and Top Raman noddles. I doesn't get much better then this.

Having the right gear makes all of the difference at 17 degrees.

one hundred eighty one

BACK TO CIVILIZATION

The motel selection is slim to none, but $59 is beyond my price range. I'll camp tonight then make Omaha tomorrow and sleep in a bed.

The next day I made Omaha after pounding out seven 100 mile days. After I finished the mountains I hit flat ground and a breathable air.  I feel good but the bike needs a little work. 

I’m at the 2200 mile mark, more than half way to Boston, but the thoughts of heading to Florida are tempting. I’ll stay here through Sunday to catch up with a longtime friend and his family. I see many of you have watched my progress. Thanks.