Photos are here!

Click here to view a full-size slideshow (with commentary!) of our trip photos.

Bay Area-ers: Look forward to a welcome back party/photo show this fall. Mojo?...

The world is ours.

Ladies and gentlemen, cats and dogs, the fat lady has sung. The bikes are parked outside, and the cyclists are parked inside. We are in plainclothes. As we got our first latte and bagel yesterday morning as non-biking-across-the-country-ers, we realized: we are, again, plain people! Yikes.

The last leg of the adventure, which we had naturally expected to be an easy amble across the finish line, turned out to be just as challenging as the rest. Weather-wise, we seemed to have lucked out, as it had been raining all day, every day for more than a week by the time we pulled away from our loving guest house in Saratoga Springs. And it was forecasted to rain that day as well. But lo, there was naught but sun and blue skies on the hilly and leafy roads at the eastern end of New York state.

However, as we've learned again and again during our continental jaunt: if it's not one thing, it's the other. So while we enjoyed the warmth of the sun on our backs, we gritted our teeth against our fatigued hamstrings and achy knees in determination of pedalling 170 miles in a day and a half. Ever preferring to challenge ourselves rather than kick back and coast, we had made an appointment to speak to a girls' summer program in Haverhill, Mass. at 2pm on Thursday.

Little did we know, and little did our AAA road maps inform us, Vermont's Green Mountains lay between us and our goal of completing a century (100 miles) before sunset on Wednesday. It may have been better that we didn't anticipate the climb or know its specifics. Not that the overall elevation gain could compete with the mountains out west, but the older roads (route 9 was travelled by 6-horse teams to transport freight between Bennington and Brattleboro and then to the Erie Canal) tend to be steeper and follow every dip and bump of the terrain. Of course, our toil was rewarded with beautiful vistas, but we had learned many states ago that "scenic" roads are designated as such based not only on scenery, but on terrain--aka hilly as hell. Scenic = fun to drive on. Fun to bike on too, if you aren't lugging 50+ pounds of gear behind you. After a sweeping view of blankets of green and the faint blue shadows of distant mountains, we were down and out and made an easy ride of the last 20 miles to Keene, NH, where we pitched the tent one last time and wolfed down one more "subtly-flavored" meal of beans and cous cous.

The final day: arose before dawn to get on the road by 7. Again, not knowing the terrain and our resulting pace, we were uncertain that we'd make our deadline, to say the least. Within the first hour we again found ourselves climbing some small but nevertheless pesky mountains (which we still haven't bothered to learn the name of). Two and a half hours in we had only gone 20 miles, meaning 50+ to go in 4 hours. The moment we needed it to, and no sooner, the road flattened out a bit, our pace quickened, and we found ourselves rolling up to the awaiting 30 school-age girls at exactly 2:00. If only they had known what we'd been through to get there. You think traffic on the way to work is tough. For the next hour or so, we showed them photos of our journey, traced our course on their wall map of the US, and attempted to impart on their young minds that we can all embark on the adventures we dream of. Or something. Mostly we fielded variations of the question of how: "But how did you get from California to Haverhill?" "How did you get over the mountains?" "Did you slide down the other side?" All the same answer--just the same way you ride your bikes up and down your driveway. Hope they got something out of it. By the end they were all itching to see our tiny camp stove and feel the weight of our bags.

We bowed out of the auditorium as they went back to bouncing balls and screaming, for we still had 25 miles to the coast. Libby's parents, who had joined us for the presentation (and provided the laptop and projector!), graciously accepted our bags and agreed to meet us at the end--Hampton Beach, NH. We flew away, propelled by the absence of our gear, the adrenaline of the finish, and, importantly, the imaginary Olympic narration. "And the cyclists are rounding their final turn! Just ahead of world record pace! Looking stronger than ever!..."

But I wasn't exaggerating about the challenges right up until the end. Our parade was rained on, literally, for a brief but intense spell, then we were halted by extreme, shaky hunger, and again, 3 miles from the beach, by a flat tire. Luckily, the only things we had kept with us were our pump, a tube, and tire irons. So we patted ourselves on the back for our foresight and set about replacing the tube, only to find that the cheapo spare tube had a valve that was too short for the wheels of Libby's bike. Spare you the details, but we were near giving up and walking the last leg until we finally jimmied it in and rode off, half-expecting another flat that would put us out of business for good.

We encountered the long lost salt-air and refreshing expanse of the Atlantic in the boardwalk town of Hampton Beach, packed with tourists and summer people rushing outside as the clouds cleared away for the last moments of the afternoon. We found Libby's parents among the throngs, standing near some cops who kindly obliged to set off congratulatory sirens and lights in our honor. We were dumbfounded but grinning as we hoisted our bikes down the stairs and onto the beach and rode them right into the tide. Two bouquets of roses, a bottle of champagne, a harborside lobster dinner, and a warm, drowsy ride back to Libby's home in Connecticut. We have arrived.

And suddenly we're almost done!

It seems like only a couple days ago that we were reposing in the sweet, conditioned air in the public library in Ortonville, MI. Now, however, we find ourselves in leather sofas, with our feet up on leather ottomans, next to a dying fire and watching the last light on Saratoga Lake. That’s right: New York.

Back in the library, we were befriended by a nice man/motorcyclist/cyclist/small plane pilot who took interest in our travels and invited us to sleep in his spare bedroom just 4 miles out of town. While he went off to fly rich businessmen to out-of-state meetings (read: expensive dinners in faraway places), we—fittingly—watched The Aviator, washed all of our clothes in a real live washing machine, made mac ‘n’ cheese on a real live stove, and followed it up with fresh homemade chocolate pudding. Then we slept in a bed. And in the morning, our friend made us pancakes, gave us a map with our day’s ride highlighted for us, and proceeded to give our bikes full tune-ups before he sent us on our way. Cost: priceless. Thank you Paul!

Next stop: Grosse Pointe, the suburb north of Detroit riddled with Ford mansions (and the only slightly less grandiose estates of the nowaday auto execs) and home to our friend Rush. Rush wined and dined us: dinner at a bustling sushi restaurant, brunch at her country club, a motor tour of the Motor City, and 3 movies in one day in the big comfy chairs in her den, accompanied by our most faithful friends Ice Cream and Candy. Our second full day of sweet sugary rest of the trip. Thank you Char.

Nevertheless, we weren’t heartbroken to pedal out of the vehicular capital of the country—it wasn’t really our bag. And before we could say “Pontiac Grand Am,” we were on a little ferry crossing the St. Clair River into Ontario with a bunch of Canadians who had hopped over the border to buy some beer (it’s actually cheaper for them to buy their very own Labatt Blue on US soil). We happily headed straight into the middle of nowhere, a place we had come to miss. Nothing but farmland and teensy towns all the way east along Lake Erie, right up until we crossed the Peace Bridge and landed in the slums of Buffalo, NY. Suddenly, there was no confusion about it: we were in America, in the thick of the red white and blue, and, most shockingly, within striking distance of the Atlantic coast.

Biking through NYS we’ve met with some unexpected conditions—the steepest hills yet, the coolest weather and thunderstorms nearly every day, and the widest and smoothest shoulders of the trip. Quite a combination. We pushed ourselves up and over and up and over through the Finger Lakes, each time feeling like we were on top of New York, each time half-expecting to see the Manhattan skyline and our long lost ocean. Each time descending somewhat unwillingly into a valley and facing another wall of road. It seems that our morale is tested in a different way at every turn. Once the hills toned down, we had to dodge thunder, lightning, and sky-darkening rain, ducking into convenience stores just as the clouds closed above us. Or, when we weren’t so lucky, getting stuck in the middle of it and then getting two flats within 10 minutes of each other. We succumbed to one last hotel room to avoid the relentless wet and cold and slept ravenously for the next 12 hours (with a brief break to eat ravenously).

Needless to say, we arrived yesterday in Saratoga with elation. We were greeted once again by Libby’s mom and pop and their old friends, the Estridges, and we have been pampered since. We went to the horse races today, ate fair food and ice cream, strolled through town in the perpetual drizzle, and did plenty of in-home relaxing as well. We couldn’t turn down the invitation to stay one more day—what will be our fourth and final day of rest—before the home stretch of 180 miles to the coast. We can’t believe it.

Love to all, and pictures to come soon, methinks.

Ortonville, MI

Dear Friends,
You'll notice we've posted a new Google Earth (!) satellite view of our tracks across the country, and also that we've changed our route again! Seeing that we would be oh-so-close to Toronto, we couldn't resist. When will we be up this way again? So now, instead of touristy Niagara Falls and endless miles of upstate NY, we'll be crossing the province of Ontario and going through what one Torontan (way back in Waterton Lakes, Alberta) told us is "the most international city in the world." We'll see about that.

We are winding our way through Michigan, where quite unexpectedly we are having the great fortune to rendezvous with some of Libby's college buddies. In Lansing, we campaigned for Obama with Meg/Roni, who took us with her to one of her many house meetings (part of Obama's grassroots organizing master plan). There we met the Democrats of Eaton County, learning what brought each of them to align themselves with the new man--from first-generation Italian brothers who wanted economic equality to guys who'd grown up outside of town and lost their jobs in the closing down of GM factories, insisting on regulating the corporate thieves... Despite our shock at finding ourselves welcomed into a surburban Lansing home (where we also were treated to pizza, showers, and warm beds!), we soaked it right up. It was both insightful and inspiring, and we left with one more "purpose" to our trip: Obama!

Delightfully, we have another "meeting" scheduled with Libby's friend Rush in Grosse Pointe, on the north end of the Detroit sprawl. Other than that, our lives on the road are quite free of commitments. Each morning we unfold our free AAA maps, carefully pick out the most ideal path, and dive in. Our criteria? Secondary roads, ice cream parlours, and good camping spots. So far, Michigan has offered the worst road conditions--somehow always the most rutted within 2 feet of the shoulder, aka our "bike lane"--along with the fastest, most daring drivers, together providing for some harrowing rides that leave us feeling like embattled heroines. Each day we are more proud.

Looking forward as ever to our future destinations and relishing our freedom to choose our own meandering route to the east, thanks to our high mileage back in the first half.

Love to all.

MADISON, WI

For those of you who have been paying close attention, our route has changed! We began meandering off our prescribed route way back in Rugby, ND, and we've even changed our projected route. Check the google map by clicking the satellite photo above. We are off to Milwaukee, Michigan, and Ontario. Maybe Toronto!

Until next time.

Greetings from the Twin Cities

Good morning, good afternoon, and goodnight! We are joining you live from the capital of the great state of Minnesota--"not just for Lutherans anymore," or so claimed a billboard we saw today. We are now one month and over 2,000 miles into our journey, averaging about 70 miles a day. Having taken 0 rest days for a full month, we have been making great time and found ourselves in Minneapolis (more than halfway!) with time to spare. So, we finally took a day off. We trucked through northern Minnesota so that we could get to MPLS on Saturday night to see the city at its best. Since then, we've taken ourselves out to about 7 "large adult" meals, got drunk off of 2 beers, saw the new Batman movie, and, most importantly, took our bags off of our bikes, changed into regular clothing, and walked and looked like normal people again (or at least as close as we'll ever get). And enjoyed being in our first city of the trip. Oh what a relief it is.

But let's take it back for a moment to where we left you last, in good old Chester, MT, which to us, in bike time, seems like about 4 years ago. It took us about 3 of those years to get the hell out of Montana. No offense, but it got to be pretty drab, and we kind of adjusted our expectations to hoping, but not knowing for sure, that we'd someday cross the border into a different, less eastern Montana-y state. We logged 5 more warm prairie days along the forlorn Highway 2, including a 110-mile day that included not one but two flat tires for Lindsay and ended in a 100-year-old "resort" at a natural hot springs outside of Saco. We imagined that when this place opened, it was pretty sweet. Indoor and outdoor pools, water slides, natural hot tub, and pleasant accommodations. Now it seems to be slipping into oblivion. We opted to stay inside, as they were the self-proclaimed mosquito capitol of the country (although this is a surprisingly contested superlative). The nice women at the front desk also was kind enough to tell us about the cyclist who had just died there a couple weeks before. Then she gave us "one of the nice rooms" in the newer part of the motel. It only had one cigarette smashed into the carpet, a half-eaten Pop Tart, and an unflushed toilet to boot. At least no mosquitos though. We have been running from them ever since.

Our last night in Montana was a holy one: we found refuge from the maneaters this time in the town church, where we somehow caught up with 8 other cyclists doing the same route. We scooted away from there in the morning and began to wander ever further off the route to avoid meeting them again. We rolled into Williston, North Dakota with the wind at our backs. The gusts were up to 40 mph that day, and when we were headed hard east, we averaged about 20 mph. No pedalling necessary. Williston was quite disappointing and we hurried away again before the other cyclists could catch sight of us. We found a wonderful haven that night at a mom-and-pop resort along the shores of Lake Sakakawea, where we slept in a tepee and sampled their famous dishes--pan-fried walleye and Juneberry pie. Our favorite night in North Dakota however (without much competition) was in the 200-person town of Makoti, where we pulled into their town park just as they were wrapping up their 97-year anniversary picnic. They immediately piled our plates full of pasta salads and home-baked desserts, and we followed dinner with spectating their rubber-ducky race in the gutter and a local woman's Powerpoint presentation on her job driving a tractor across Antarctica to the South Pole. We love you, Makoti.

We crossed into Minnesota through Grand Forks, and by then were quite happy to escape N-Dak as well. We found Minnesota to fulfill the promis of many North Dakotans, who told us how pretty it is, and that there are a lot of trees. It felt like a giant oasis after the plains. Lakes just about every mile, more people enjoying themselves outside of the cars/RVs, but again, lots of mosquitos. Another capitol! We stayed our first night in a storm shelter at an RV park and since have had to stay indoors. Open-air sleeping is apparently impossible, as Minnesotan skeeters have no curfew. And man, do they know how to drink.

On the 17th, an ambitious three days from Minneapolis, we made it about 3 miles out of the RV park when Libby had her second tire blow out. A new tire at that! Luckily, we had spares with us, as we had learned our lesson back in MT. Unluckily, we had "misplaced" our pump, which wasn't working that well anyway, back in Minot, ND, in front of the mall sports shop where we bought new tires. We could just imagine it sitting there. So we stuck out our thumbs as our hopes of reaching Minneapolis dwindled and melted away. When all of a sudden (well, not that suddenly), a yellow truck turned around on the highway and 2 friendly women invited us to hop on in--to the bed, that is. It was a windy ride toward the town of Bemidji until their sister, who happened to also be headed that way, also pulled over and offered us to ride in her warm, spacious, American-made car. Our 2-vehicle caravan delivered us to a bike shop in Bemidji, 60 miles toward our destination in a mere one hour. We celebrated by eating a lot of food, ice cream, and cotton candy. Then we actually rode our bikes 70 more miles, 20 of which were on a paved, off-road bike trail! We were happy girls.

Our little mishap ended up being a blessing in disguise, as we had to truck 170 more miles in 2 days to make it to Mpls, barely escaping a giant dark mad scary storm, and navigating through a suddenly harrowing urban land of freeways, dead ends, and no one knowing how to bike anywhere. Mpls was a wonderful respite of trees, lakes, and greenways. Yummy organic food and outdoor patios, perfect weather, and lots of happy white people. And finally even some non-white people. Yay!

It's back to the daily grind for us. We're headed down the mighty Mississippi, then over to Madison and Milwaukee, and across the great lake into Michigan and Canada again!

Love to all.

On location in Chester, Montana!

Good morning America! We are reporting live from the public library in Chester, Montana: “the heart of the High Line.” The Hi-Line being the railroad, known on Amtrak as the Empire Builder, and known to us as our constant companion. We joined up with the tracks a couple days ago, in Cut Bank, MT, and we will be following them for what seems now like forever. Usually it’s freight trains, filling up with grain or oil and chugging off over the horizon, but once in a while, we see our old friend Amtrak (which we rode from Oakland to Seattle) and we wave! Then we catch up with it, stopped at the station a half hour later. And we laugh. Man are we glad to be on bikes. A Hutterite (it’s a religion, apparently…Wikipedia?) man today told us that “with these high gas prices, people will have to start ridin’ those things around,” and he pointed to our bikes, as if they were some sort of cursed, plagued thing. Well, we love them. So far, they’ve taken us over 1000 miles, through mountains, sage desert, mountains, snow, mountains, Canada, and now, prairie.

Yeah, Canada, I said. We have some catching up to do. Here’s where we’ve been since (much abridged, since we’ve already surpassed our 1 hour time limit in this friendly establishment):

6/27 – Day 9 – Sandpoint, ID to Bull Lake, MT – 64 mi
Still one of our favorite rides. We were ushered into Montana in a flush of green meadows and mountains. Long gradual climbs and descents, following the Bull River, deer and moose watching us from afar, and a campsite on Bull Lake. A morning dip and hot chocolate on the lake.

6/28 – Day 10 – Bull Lake to Lake Koocanusa – 62 mi
Got off to a great start, leaving early and taking our first stop, just as it started heating up, in Libby, Montana! Gorged ourselves at Subway and searched for Libby postcards as it continued to heat up. By 7pm, we were still waiting for it to cool down, and it was still heating up. 98 degrees at 7pm? We rested in the city park, wrote postcards, and left finally at 8pm, winding through a thankfully shady river canyon, climbed up to the level of the locally famous Libby Dam, and pulled in late to our campsite on Lake Koocanusa.

6/29 – Day 11 – Lake Koocanusa to Dickey Lake – 67 mi
Probably our most annoying day of riding yet. Did tiny but steep uphills and downhills for 35 miles, all the while looking across the lake at the flat and placid Highway 37. Next time we’re going that way. By the time we got to our campsite on Dickey Lake, we were literally dragging ourselves through the weak headwind. Luckily we had enough energy to swim/bathe in the lake just before the sun went down. We prefer to swim after hours due to our shockingly distinct tan lines.

6/30 – Day 12 – Dickey Lake to Whitefish, MT – 41 mi
A very fast ride to Whitefish, MT. Even though Libby’s tire blew out about 3 miles away, we were able to grab a new tire from town, replace it, and arrive together in town by 11. There we learned that the road through Glacier, the famous Going-to-the-Sun, was still closed due to a late snowstorm. They kept plowing it and it kept avalanching. We decided to stay in town, with friends of the last friends, had a kebab barbeque, and slept in a bed during a storm. Thank you Alia and Eric! Waited out the morning rain and headed for the Park for at least a view of the mountains.

7/1 – Day 13 – Whitefish to Apgar, Glacier National Park – 32 mi
Got our view of the mountains across Lake McDonald. Truly breathtaking but bittersweet since the road was still closed. It was like the forbidden fruit. We set up an early camp, as it was forecasted to rain and hail. And we got rained on and mosquitoed. All night. Neither of us slept. We were up and out of camp just after 6—still a rainy sky and too sad to stay in the park any longer. We headed for the alternate route to Marias Pass, the lowest pass in the US continental divide.

7/2 – Day 14 – Apgar to West Glacier – 59 mi
Arrived for breakfast to the Isaak Walton Inn, a sort of train museum/hotel. Extended our break to visit their Finnish sauna and warm up. When we emerged, the sun was coming out. I went in to the front desk to return our towels and –lo and behold!—I overheard the clerk say Going-to-the-Sun was open! It had opened that very morning! We joyously retraced our tire tracks for 30 miles, back to West Glacier, and stayed in a motel for a guaranteed rest.

7/3 – Day 15 – West Glacier to Rising Sun, Glacier National Park – 46 mi
Words can’t describe this day. You must see it yourself. And FYI, it’s best on a bike. Gushing waterfalls, wildflowers and lush greenery everywhere, and, of course, GIANT rocky peaks on all sides. A very steep 12 mile climb to Logan Pass, where we saw mountain goats and bighorn sheep, and a steep descent to our beautiful campground on the glacial blue St. Mary Lake.

7/4 – Day 16 – Glacier to Waterton Village, Waterton Lakes National Park, CANADA – 55 mi
The national parks continue! Instead of heading east to the everlasting prairie, we hooked a left and headed north along the mountains to Waterton Lakes National Park. The tiny European village is nestled between the lakes and among the mammoth mountains. Windy and full of cottonwood fluff, whitecaps on the lake, deer in the parks and lying on the lawns, happy Canadians on bikes and on the swings, and for us a vacation from our vacation. We treated ourselves to dinner out and a couple beers to toast the country we were happily not in for its most obnoxious holiday. We also treated ourselve to ice cream, homemade fudge, and Canadian candy. We love Canada. We hesitated to re-enter the States and honestly considered changing our trip to a cross-Canada ride.

7/5 – Day 17 – Waterton Village to Cut Bank, MT – 109 mi
Big day! Our first century (100 miles in a day) and also crossed 1000 miles on our trip odometer. Spent most of the miles in the high Canadian plains—lots of cattle and green grass. Crossed the border at Del Bonita and found that the grass really is greener on the other side. The cows and idyllic pastures of Canada were replaced by good old American wheat fields, grain silos, big trucks, and RVs returning from their 4th of July weekends. With the wind behind us, we almost doubled our average daily mileage and pulled into the sleepy town of Cut Bank in the early evening. With a good prairie wind behind us we can average about 15 mph!

7/6 – Day 18 – Cut Bank to Chester, MT - 69 mi
Which brings us to Chester. A place we will hold dear in our hearts. Though most of town was closed, as it was Sunday night when we pulled in, we found a friendly gentleman at the food mart and kept him company while we ate a can of Pringles, 2 servings of frozen yogurt, and 3 cold sugary drinks. It’s not that we’re starving all the time, it’s just that we’re never full! Finally headed over to the campground—aka the city park—and fell asleep on the green grass before the sky was even dark.

Another late start (damn computers!) but we got to take care of a lot of those old annoying tasks we use to have to deal with in our old lives, so we are happy. We anticipate another week of Montana. We will try to keep ourselves entertained—the joy of travelling quickly with the wind seems to have come with the price of boredom and monotony—70 miles a day of the same vista. So far our funniest moments have been watching each other being chased by horseflies. It’s actually pretty hilarious, until the horsefly starts chasing you instead.

Till next time!

Greetings from Northern Idaho!

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls and genders in between, we are proud to announce: we have (dial-up) internet access! Turns out Lindsay's master plan of sending updates via text message has failed--out here in the country we don't get that kind of cell phone service, apparently. So we (and you) have waited 8 long days for an update! Here's the recap:

Prelude: We boarded Amtrak's Coast Starlight train at Jack London Square in Oakland and, at a shockingly slow pace, made our way north to Tacoma, WA. After an hour delay in boarding (which meant an extra hour for us, closing in on midnight at the train station in Oakland), our train came to a grinding halt about 1 mile into the journey, an occurence we would become quite accustomed to over the next 24 hours. Once we finally got rolling toward Sacramento, the two of us fell fast asleep. We spent our many train hours on the viewing car, with wall and ceiling windows through which we saw all the volcanoes, from Shasta to Lassen to Adams, Mt. St. Helens, and so on. Having driven up Highway 5 to Seattle a couple times, I must say the scenery from the train is far superior. Narrower tracks make for more secluded vistas, more wildlife (we saw 2 coyotes howling as they trotted away from the tracks!), and more tree-lined corridors. We arrived in Tacoma late at night on the 17th, to be greeted by our most gracious welcoming crew: Libby's mom, dad, and brother! They put us up in a glamorous hotel in Tacoma that night and then drove us up to Anacortes the next day, and were even nice enough to make a last minute stop at Seattle's gargantuan REI.

6/19 - Day 1 and Lisette's 21st Birthday!: Anacortes, WA to Marblemount, WA

After wining and dining in Anacortes, we were ready for take-off on the morning of the 19th. Unfortunately, we hit some obstacles in our attempts to dip our tires in the Pacific Ocean (the old cross-country tradition), as Anacortes is not technically on the Pacific, and our hotel was not technically on the water anyway. One beach we tried was all muck for hundreds of yards (blasted low tide). The second beach, or sad excuse thereof, was actually quicksand in disguise. Lindsay tried to make a dash for the water and found herself instead ankle-deep in yucky mucky only feet from water's edge. Libby laughed from her safe haven in the foliage. Finally, we dipped our tires from the end of a boat dock at a private marina. Then Lindsay spent 20 minutes trying to remove the muck from her wheels, brakes, and self.

We set out actually biking around noon, and had a flat, easy day (sans bags, thanks to our benefactors) ambling along the Skagit River, surrounded by veritable rainforest, to Marblemount, at the foot of the Northern Cascades. We were welcomed once more by the Wood/Rimers into a delightful cabin resort, largely populated by rabbits and their associated stale bread crumbs, where we spent our last evening in luxury before climbing away into the wilderness.

6/20 - Day 2: Marblemount, WA to Diablo Lake

Struck by the addition of about 40-50 pounds of luggage stuffed into each of our pannier bags, and again hampered by a late start, we made it only about 25 miles up the mountain before collapsing on the side of the road and both actually falling asleep. We decided to camp at the base of the climb and start early the next morning. We both now laugh at our exhaustion but it was certainly the right decision at the time. We spent the rest of the day watching baby ducks and Canadian geese on the lake, and trying to get the campground's token drunk guy to stop telling us how nice our bikes were and how he knows someone who bikes sometimes.

6/21 - Day 3: Diablo Lake to Winthrop, WA

We rose at 5:30 in anticipation of a big day and were on the road by 7:30, as we had a 32-mile, 4500-foot climb. We plugged away, pedal-by-pedal, stopping to wolf down beef jerky and energy bars. Encouraged by the greetings of dozens of cyclists on a benefit ride, we summited at around 1pm. We had several people offer us water and food and many more check to make sure we were okay. Even the rest stop at the pass for the benefit riders was welcoming. After all, we were the only people touring--something to be proud of. There was still a substantial amount of snow up around the pass--we seemed to have perfect timing--and we saw no less than 40 waterfalls over the course of the day.

We descended into Winthrop, a charming western town, where we had a celebratory espresso milkshake while we waited out a brief but heavy rain. We camped that night at our first RV park (unnecessarily expensive but an opportunity to take showers and charge our cell phones and camera). A beautiful big-sky sunset through the clusters of mammoth RVs.

6/22 - Day 4: Winthrop to Tonasket, WA

Our morning warm-up began with some of our favorite scenery: the soft green meadows of the Methow Valley. As we climbed toward Loup Loup pass, the forest changed--the trees were more sparse, the ground was covered with pine needles rather than drippy ferns, and the air was dry and still. By the time we had descended, we were in sagebrush country, where there is as little as 10" of rainfall a year, vs. the 100" at our first pass. Here waterfalls were replaced by endless sprinklers, and the small mountain towns became the sprawling and destitute clapboard "projects" of the Indian Reservation. We could almost feel the resentment and the heightened tension. Our pit stop at the only roadside grocery/gas station was spent watching customers, one after another, leave their engines running while they ran in and grabbed beer or liquor, gave the two strange city girls a hard stare, and zoomed off. We trucked through there and pulled a 70-mile day to stay on the lawn of Shannon's Ice Cream Parlour in Tonasket.

6/23 - Day 5: Tonasket to Republic, WA

A long, hot, slow, boring, gradual, fluctuating ascent up to Wauconda Pass, this was our least-interesting day. All we remember are logging trucks, plywood trucks, gravel trucks, and sore butts. We were happy to arrive at the well-sprinklered lawns Ferry County Fairgrounds in Republic and were in our sleeping bags before the sun went down.

6/24 - Day 6: Republic to Colville, WA

We had a short steep climb to our highest pass (~5600') and then an equally fast descent into Kettle Falls, on the Columbia River. We stumbled upon a goldmine in the form of a natural foods store and ate the equivalent of a couple meals and a few desserts and then stocked up on more delicious organic snacks for the road, which we are still enjoying the remnants of. We took an off-highway detour through an idyllic meadow valley before arriving in Colville, our biggest town yet. Again we landed at the Fairgrounds, this time Stevens County, where there was a gathering of the Washington State Grange (we didn't know what it was either) and a face-off of the local Little League teams. We managed to catch some of the game and take a walk around the entire town before sundown--not till around 9pm up here!

6/25 - Day 7: Colville to Cusick, WA

Although we were done with our four mountain passes, we still had a gradual 1000' climb out of Colville and then a quick downhill that brought us down to the Pend Oreille (pronounced in American Ponderay) River, which we've been following ever since. We logged about 30 miles against the wind, but thankfully flat, to our third Fairgrounds (a hat trick!). As Cusick has a "population" of 212, this was a very quiet evening for us, to say the least. When we saw the friendly caretaker the next morning, he told us he was glad we camped there and not many people know about it. We'll have to spread the word. Pend Oreille County Fairgrounds!

6/26 - Day 8: Cusick, WA to Sandpoint, ID

As the River turned east, we had the wind at our backs and our flattest day yet! We made it into Sandpoint via a long, cross-lake bike trail by 3pm. We spent a couple hours exploring and visiting bike shops to address our sore butt problems, both emerging with new women-specific seats that actually have some padding. We felt like we were caving, but in reality, there's no way we could have continued to log 60, 70 mile days if our butt bones were starting to ache within the first hour of riding.

Last night we rode 5 miles off our route to stay with family friends in their incredible, hand-crafted country home. They cooked a gourmet meal of garlic-fried shrimp and potato wedges, with salad fresh from the garden. Then a berry cobbler for dessert. We have been thinking carefully: should we continue cross country, or should we just move in? Well, we're still here and it's just past noon now.

Alas, the adventure continues. Until our next update (who knows when that will be), you can check out photos of our first few days posted on Flickr, courtesy of Lisette (thank you thank you thank you!). Next on the agenda is Libby, MT, Glacier National Park, the continental divide, and a brief jaunt into Canada on the eve of the good old Fourth of July!

Our one and only training ride:

The 73-mile circumnavigation of Lake Tahoe, self-proclaimedly "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride," was our first and last training ride. And man, are we pumped. Our plan to bike the lake in one day developed instead into a 3-day camping trip. Things we learned:

-Biking with racks and 40-pound panniers is quite different from biking on "naked" bikes.
-Biking at 7000 feet elevation is quite different from biking at sea level.
-Lake Tahoe is too beautiful to rush around in a day anyway. That's so auto.

Now, strengthened by our long and gruelling training season, we await departure from the Bay Area via the Coast Starlight at twilight tomorrow. The wheels will start turning in an easterly direction (click on the map above to see our route) at daybreak on Thursday, June 19th. , and check back for brief but live updates via text message (yes, it's embarrassing--and true!) thereafter...

And now, the moment we've all been waiting for: bon voyage to us and happy summer to you!

Our chariot awaits:

Holler.

Not Cold in San Francisco

In case you missed it, we had a record-breaking heat wave in the Bay Area for the latter part of last week, which means that we actually "experienced warmth" and even (seriously) considered going swimming.  Of course, the sweet caress of the sun seems to have receded once again, and San Francisco returned this evening in all of its foggy-mist-cloud-shrouded glory.  Until next time, here are some glimpses of the hogs (not yet sanctioned for full viewing) as well as some after-work adventures, including a quite stunning sunset in Ol' Dolores Park.  

Take Your Libby to Work Day!

Now that we are a mere one month from departure, we'd like to report that we are devoting every moment to the final preparations: fine-tuning our equipment, packing up gourmet ingredients for our outdoor kitchen, and taking uphill training rides every day. But thanks to the "real world," we are not. Lindsay, like the elementary school students she teaches, is literally counting down the days until she is released from work. (If you'd like to send flowers to congratulate me on my salvation, the big day is June 6th.) To her delight, she was paid a recent visit by artist/photographer/fellow cyclist/Libby and her day of looking at garbage with little kids was made a little brighter:

Fourteen more days of these munchkins. And to think I'll have taken about 7000 4th and 5th graders to have a look at what we in the industry call the "garbage pit." Luckily the photos spare you the olfactory experience...

Works in progress:

We are 1-2 days away from completion. Phew! Photos of the finished products will be posted (get excited!) thereafter.  Can't wait to get back on the hogs.

Meanwhile, while on our DIY kick, we went to the Maker Faire down in good old San Mateo and built yet another bike:

Where have we been?

Well, funny you asked. You'll have to excuse our negligence with no substantial posts for some weeks--we were nursing hangovers from our photo shindig--but we think you'll be proud of our latest exploits.  These include schmoozing with the creme de la creme of SF's bicycle advocates at the SFBC's Golden Wheel Awards:

Bike shopping yet again for Libby. She first discovered that her picture-perfect aerodynamic '91 Masi racing bike was not steel as was alleged by the craigslist post, and then she found a crack in the stem!  She let it roll off her back, though, and made a late-in-the-game purchase of last year's steel Fuji Finest, which we'll attempt to build on our own, with the Shimano 600 components from the Masi. Victory is ours in the end!

 

But first, the Fuji needs a paint job. I mean, it has a website printed on the frame. And at that, Lindsay's old-school sparkle-black Specialized could use a little brush-up with the old rattle-can as well. So (drumroll) we're painting our bikes!  Check back to watch them change into shiny beauties!

And of course, we're up to our usual no good: making offensive T-shirts and wearing them to large-scale public events (luckily surrounded by thousands of cyclists--i.e. Critical Mass SF):

Please note: If these shirts offend you, that means you're gay. Or, of course, you're a car. Same thing.

We have a donate button!

Friends and countrymen:
We finally figured out how to start a PayPal account and add a donate button to our blog, so we can accept online donations and not just the old-fashioned check in the mail. We are hard at work on posting our route map and our budget, so you'll know where we're going--and where your donation is taking us!

Thank you for your donation!

Thank you for visiting our blog and making a donation for our trip! We are humbly and forever grateful. Look for our upcoming "Budget" post to see how your donation is helping us mile-for-mile. Please visit again to keep tabs on our crossing of a country.

Love and thanks,
Libby and Lindsay

Photography Up for Bids at the Mojo Party

Our winner photo! This picture received our highest bid of the evening. 80 big ones. Thanks "E" for forking it over big time. And thanks to everyone else who came and emptied your pockets.

For those who cold not make the event, fret not. Here is a link to part one of the photo show, and a link to part two of the photos that we selected for the show on Saturday. (I couldn't fit them all onto one page!!) If you are interested in buying one, send us an email with a description of the photograph and the size you would like. We'd be happy to print you one.

another gem...from a precious night.

the show! :

so it went a bit like this

and if you came, you may have seen this

You have no excuse.

If you are reading this on Saturday, April 12th, click on this link:

getawayfromyourcomputerandcomehaverealhumaninteractionsatourphotoshow

We assure you--good things await.

this is also what we've been up to

live from mojo, welcome to pedalwise!

When there's time, we like to get things done. And in between getting things done, we like to relax and own it.

For those just coming into the blogset of Libby and Lindsay, we are the lassies behind the handlebars, on the saddle, and behind the lens. Right now, we're in photo show preparation mode. We printed the photographs....(yay!), and today's goal is to mount them, and get them in shape for their debut at Mojo Bicycle Cafe. If you're in town, we invite you to our bicycle photography show and fundraiser event, "Bay Area by Bike" this Saturday, April 12 at 8pm.

Live music from bike shop John has just been confirmed.

And, if you didn't already know, all photos will be available for silent auction bidding, and the winners will be announced and handed their photo to take home that night.

Come to see the photographs, mingle with like minds, and celebrate with us!

weekend update

Today it is cloudy, so our plans for a glorious jaunt on our bikes has been replaced with visions of productivity: at 3pm, we pick up the final prints for the "bay area by bike" photo series (which, may we add, is a mere 6 days away), and now, we are sitting down with iced vanilla lattes to finish plotting our route across the last third of the country. Currently we're enjoying the 20-mile lakefront bike trail in the good old Windy City.  

Yesterday, au contraire, was not a special day. We decided to work on our route at the much-acclaimed other bike cafe in the City, the Velo Rouge Cafe. Now, we had heard about this place as a biker's haven--though we'd also heard that it recently changed hands--and we'd passed it a few times entering or exiting Golden Gate Park on Arguello Blvd. So we pulled up, parked at the rack provided (check), and entered to order our customary IVLs (see above). After taking our seats on their wrought iron chairs (fashionable, perhaps, but comfortable?), we began to take stock of our surroundings: 

-do any of these people actually ride bikes?

-who's chicken scratch is on the menu board? 

  cause we can't even find the word latte.

-not everyone is obsessed with Blue Bottle Coffee 

  and willing to pay $45 more for it.

-why do you ask "for here or to go" if you serve it 

  in the same damn (read: non-recyclable) plastic cup

-$5 for a cold one at 4pm? more like "sad hour"

-and why do you even serve beer if you're gonna 

  close at 5pm--on saturday

As we chugged the last of our beers and were pushed out the door at 4:58, we found the answer to our query, advertised on the window: "Velo Rouge is open for private party rentals starting at 6pm on the weekends!" 

As we unlocked our hogs from the trendy rouge velo racks and started pedalling homeward, we felt justified in our denouncement of the other bike cafe, and we thanked our lucky etoiles for the boys over at Mojo, who are hosting our party, gratuitement.

look for our stickers!

we made one round of flyer-ing and sticker-ifying san francisco's windows, telephone poles, and bike racks. so fun.


ps. these little bikey stickers will be available at the show next saturday. or you can order them: send us an email, and let us know how many you'd like.

pps. they come free with donations.

exciting!

And then this happened:

Malakoff Diggins State Park. I know, we hadn't heard of it either.

Spring Break 2008! Day One

So at around 2pm yesterday, precisely as Libby closes her laptop on her workday, we decide to go on a camping/biking adventure and we start talking about where but we can't decide and we start getting anxious about traffic leaving the city so we instead pack as quickly as possible and within a half hour we are in the trusty rusty red Volvo stay-wag with bikes tents tarps sleeping bags and Ramen on our way east toward an as yet undefined "natural" place, laughing, talking, hesitantly hoping we escape rush hour gridlock, and we pull off 80 in Davis and immediately realize the TRRV's power steering is no longer operating and--what's that noise?--there's some weird rhythmic thumping and we hastily park in a Shell station and turn off the car and run away from it like some predatory animal and call Triple-A and wait for the tow truck and ride with the poor guy to the TRRV's old repair shop in Sacramento and by nightfall we find ourselves at Lindsay's grandparents house wondering if we should just pitch the tent in the backyard.

You're officially invited. And so are your friends.

Today we'll be flyer-ing and sticker-ring the city to encourage cyclists and art enthusiasts alike to come to our photography show / fundraiser / good time party at our favorite bike cafe.

Provided by Mojo:      Local beer on tap, homemade sangria in a bowl, fresh farmer's market food, and live music by the Good Lookin' Corpses.

Provided by Us:         Photography, silent bike film, souvenirs, and a silent photography auction.

Come celebrate our upcoming cycling and camping journey across the country.