Coasting

Pretty Chichester

2011-05-06T11:24:00.001-07:00

May 4^th,

Gotta love those gigs where you get to sleep in the same building that the gig is in. Right now we’re at the Chichester Inn and the boys are playing their hearts out downstairs. I stayed for the first set, but I’m upstairs now taking advantage of internet and piecing video together.

Chichester is really a beautiful town. Lyon and I got to walk around a bit before the gig and Zack and I ducked our heads into the 900-year-old cathedral. There’s an old medieval wall around the town center (built on original roman walls) and everything is just quaint as can be with cobble-stone roads and doors painted bright red. I’m hoping I can get myself up early in the morning and go for a stroll.

Sheffield, England

2011-05-04T14:02:00.001-07:00

May 3^rd

We are at “The Greystones” pub where there’s a listening room called “The Backroom.” I have a feeling it will be a good gig, though whether I get good footage out of it or not is always hit or miss.

We’re in a city called Sheffield (it has the most trees per capita than any other city in Europe? That’s a fact that came straight from Zack). There’s lots of shopping, and there’s a university so it has a bit of a college vibe, but the Travel Lodge where we’re staying is in the middle of nowhere, unfortunately. Last night we took a taxi to town and ended up at a pub which we pretty much closed down, though it was pretty early—just midnight. I guess we got braver with each drink because when we walked out of there, Zack and Lyon and I had scrounged up what we could of the weak internet signal and had reserved a car for our last 4 days here. The last show is May 13^th, so the 14^th, 15^th, 16^th and 17^th the three of us are going to drive to Paris from London…or something like that. We were sure to purchase the extra insurance, and we paid the extra cash for an automatic so that we wouldn’t have to juggle shifting gears with our left hand and remembering to stay on the left side of the road (until we’re out of England at least). Zack’s friend that’s studying in Stirling might come too, it would be nice to have another girl along. Paris! Can’t wait to speak French to someone other than Lyon (who just looks back blankly at me).

I’ve been trying to keep up with blogging even without internet, which is the reason for the bursts of posting. Unfortunately most of our hotels make you pay for wifi. But despite lack of internet or cell phone, I did get the big news yesterday about Osama Bin Ladin. I’d gotten up early that morning to go to a coffee shop in Carlisle, and as I was opening my journal to write, I saw Americans on the flat screen T.V. mounted on the wall, waving flags and holding up posters. Bin Ladin is dead. No matter how evil the culprit, it’s always strange to see people celebrating someone’s death-so medieval.

Yesterday I taught Davie to tap dance--just the usual 3-point-crawl. He took to it like a pro! I expect him to practice often, or I won’t teach him any more tap moves.

Carlisle

2011-05-03T10:17:00.001-07:00

May 2nd

So yesterday we basically followed the path of Hadrian’s Wall across the country near the West Coast to Carlisle. Some parts are kind of dumpy, but luckily our Travel Lodge is in the center of town and we were able to walk around long enough to find the city center (“centre”). There’s tons of shopping, every type of restaurant you can think of and there’s a large region dedicated to pedestrian’s only so we had a nice stroll since we got here in plenty of time (the result of a 10 o’clock check-out a the hotel in Newcastle). I finally bought a little brush, something I’d been putting off after losing the one I brought with me. It just was so annoying to have to buy something that I have 2 of back home so yes, last night I brushed my hair for the first time in 7 days. I’ve been washing it—no worries, I just hadn’t been brushing it….

The city is actually full of historic sites, many of which are a result of its being near the English-Scottish boarder and when we pulled in Davey said he was pretty sure this was the city where an old law still existed allowing a Scotsman to be flogged if he wears a kilt. I don’t know if that’s true, but it could be I guess, just one of those laws that was never taken off the books…And there’s the Carlisle Castle that towers over the city where Mary Queen of Scots was once held captive. Of course, we don’t really have time to visit the castle or the Carlisle Cathedral or any other historic sites. It’s on to the next town for us.

I stayed in last night instead of going to the gig, which is why I was able to get up this morning and have a cappuccino at a local coffee shop. In some ways it’s been fun letting go and allowing myself to be on a musician’s schedule (stay up late, get up late) but really, I love my mornings. And on this trip it’s the best way to get some alone time. I guess the gig was a little thin last night, but it sounded really fun nonetheless. The venue was sort of new, as in it had been closed and then re-opened I think, and it was on the third floor of an old brick industrial building. The sign outside read something like, “It’s a long way up the stairs, but worth it.” Lyon said that when the band got there the manager had made a drink and named it the “Chew Tobacco Rag” and he let the boys invent a couple of other drink specials and name them after songs that Woody sings. Then after the gig they all hung out and played music together. It sounded like no one was too concerned about it being a slow night, since the staff was happy to have Woody there and the gig was a guarantee deal so the band didn’t necessarily lose money.

Today is a day off-for everyone. I think it’s a bank holiday since May Day fell on a Sunday. And most people took Friday off for the Royal Wedding, so the Brits are all in vacation mode. I’m not sure where we’re going today, but we’ll be there 2 nights (Sheffield maybe?).

On to England

2011-05-03T10:12:00.000-07:00

May 1, 2011

We are done crisscrossing Scotland.

A couple of nights ago the boys played a show in Kirkaldy on Scotland’s East Coast and the next night we were on the West Coast for a show in Irvine. But last night was our first show in England (back on the East Coast). We already miss Scotland. But at least our driver is Scottish so he keeps the language in the van lively. Davie (the driver) hosted us again at his home in a small village outside of Glasgow and this time we got to meet his wife and two daughters (Jenna-age 7 and Nicky-4). The older one has an ipod touch and likes to sing Karaoke in the hall with her friends but she took a long time to warm up to us. The younger one is the talkative, daring one. While her older sister was still peering around the corner, Nicky was at the breakfast table with us with wide eyes trying to figure out how “Woody” from Toy Story, “Alice” from Wonderland and a man named “Lyon” ended up in her house. But later they would both warm up to us, show us magic tricks, show us their drawings—Jenna would pull up videos of the tornadoes in the U.S. on her ipod for us. And Nicky would make me go through all my make-up with her and give a sample of each eye shadow color on my hand. Unfortunately for her it was a quick demonstration since I don’t have much, and she really wanted to see which lipsticks I had (since her mom only has ‘peach color…boring) but all I had was lip-gloss.

We’re in Newcastle now and the next gig is in Carlisle (West Coast!). Last night’s gig at the Jumpin’ Hot Club was really cool. The space was a pub, coffee shop, lounge, music venue with all different levels. It’s in this part of town with lots of old brick industrial buildings, an old smoke stack and a canal running through it, all in the shadows of a gigantic brick bridge with impressive arches and a train that ran back and forth.

England, here we come.

The Polish Club-Hey!

2011-05-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

April 29, 2011

Today is Royal Wedding day. Prince William and Kate Middleton tied the knot bright and early this morning in Westminster Abby while Lyon, Woody, Davie (the new driver) and I sat around the table in the home of Davie (a different Davie) and Mary Stewart eating sausage, bacon, mushrooms, fried eggs and buttered bread while sipping French press coffee. We are in Kirkaldy, Scotland by the sea in a 3-story town house, the home of a lovely couple that has been hosting and feeding musicians that come through their town for years. Just before leaving we turned the tele on to watch coverage of the hoards of people gathering before the royal palace in London, waiving British flags and carrying posters with hearts and the names “William” and “Kate.” It was a little ridiculous watching the lengths that the reporters were going to, to try and get some kind of news-worthy content. Everyone was basically milling around waiting for the royal couple to appear at the balcony. I finally got impatient waiting for a glimpse of Kate’s dress so Mary and I went to google images. Kate looked beautiful in her tiara and veil, long white dress with lacey sleeves.

It has to be mentioned that my grandmother’s name was Mary Stewart, a name that could be traced back to Scottish lineage. So it made me smile to be hosted in Scotland by a woman name Mary Stewart, even if it is a common name. Who knows, maybe we’re related somewhere down the line.

The show last night was a riot. It was held in a small, low-ceilinged room in the town‘s Polish Club. The whiskey and Polish beer flowed freely and I discovered whiskey and lemonade, which makes for a sweet and smooth drink. I could never really handle whiskey before drinking the stuff they have here. The boys were introduced by a witty Scottish woman named Fiona with a thick, rolling accent.

New Galloway--Still in Scotland

2011-04-30T06:50:00.000-07:00

April 28, 2011 (Somewhere outside of Glasgow)

Yesterday we switched driver/tour managers since Gerry had to pick “The Wilders” up for a 5-week tour. No more yelling and swearing, no more ice chests of beer back at the hotel, no more banjo jokes (“What do a banjo and a grenade have in common? When you see one you want to get as far away from it as possible”). And while it was a bit of a shock to get in a different van with a clean-cut, very sweet and polite Scottish man, we’re in good hands. The first thing Davy did was invite us to spend the night at his house instead of the Travel Lodge. Lyon and I have our own little room painted yellow, and Zack and Woody are sleeping in twin beds with hot pink comforters in a kids’ playroom which they share with a pile of stuffed animals. This morning Davy made us a ‘full Scottish’ breakfast complete with a fried egg, toast, sausage, bacon, baked beans and some kind of flat fried potato thing with coffee and juice. You can’t get that at the Travel Lodge.

Yesterday the boys played at an art center in a gorgeous little town called New Galloway. The road there, however, could have made for an ugly scene if I’d had a weaker stomach. But I just sat with my eyes part way open, sweating, head spinning, and squeezed Lyon’s hand (probably a little too hard). Granted the ride took us through a part of Scotland we hadn’t really seen yet—winding through valleys, past farms and fields of grazing sheep and frolicking lambs. Zack and I both fall in love with each little lamb we see but Woody and the others made jokes about kebabs on their plates. Driving back that night there was a mama sheep and two little lambs in the middle of the road that we had to slow down and creep around and the mama sheep eyed us nervously and trotted fretfully along.

The gig went over well to a packed crowd. I stayed in the back room editing footage instead of filming the gig (the first one I haven’t watched). I’m not tired of the show though, if anything the music is even growing on me more, and each day I have a different song stuck in my head. Lyon said the audience was particularly giggly and at one point between songs a German lady in the front row walked up to Zack’s bass and dusted it off for him. This same German couple invited us back to their Scottish farm and even brought homemade beer for the boys. And strangely, in the lobby between sets, the large German husband saw Lyon and I standing next to each other and, thinking we’d just met that night, decided to give us a hard time by saying, “You two look like you’ve been together 20 years—no, 5 years!” He couldn’t have known that it was our 5-year anniversary that very day.

Woody has gone off to Edinburgh to record harmonica on a super fan’s album. I guess the guy saw him play here last year and is totally inspired by Woody’s music and asked Woody if he’d play in his album. They’ll all meet up with us at the gig tonight in Kirkaldy.

Woody Pines Singing Richland Woman

2011-04-30T01:31:00.000-07:00

Woody Pines Singing 'Pretty Blue Eyes'

2011-04-24T16:35:00.000-07:00

Stirling-Pictures

2011-04-24T08:13:00.001-07:00

Ugly Doll Made it to Scotland in One Piece

2011-04-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

Stirling Show

2011-04-24T08:03:00.000-07:00

April 24^th

Happy Easter everyone.

This morning was the first time I woke up and had no idea where I was or really who I was, and it took a few seconds of staring at the wall before I could conjure up the context that currently makes up my life. Last night we danced our booties off at a Scottish nightclub after the show and this morning it feels like maybe we also ran a marathon in there somewhere. Zack and Woody have two friends that live in Stirling so they took us to a place called ‘Dusk’ (and yes I only remembered the name of it because it’s stamped on the inside of my wrist). Dusk was a sweaty mush pit of short skirts and high heels, suave faux-hawks and peculiar Euro jeans, all jumping to steady techno beats. People kept stealing Woody’s hat—just popping it off his head and onto theirs--and it became like a scene at an outdoor concert where the crowd bounces a beach ball back and forth, only the beach ball was a hat. Just as soon as Woody would recover the thing and return it to his head someone else would snatch it up and put it on.

Lyon and I stayed out ‘til about 3 but Zack and Woody stayed up long enough to watch the sun rise over Stirling’s ancient grave yard that sits in the shadows of the town’s castle at the top of a hill. Before going to sleep they got to eat the complimentary breakfast at the Golden Lion Hotel that Lyon and I would later sleep through.

The gig at The Tollbooth was the best yet. As with all of their audiences so far, the crowd took the first set to get comfortable with the band, hanging back until Woody was able to ask everyone how they were and play a few songs for them. Woody nearly always sets his songs up for the audience, explaining what they’re about, or telling Zack he looks hungry and asking him if he’s getting enough to eat on the road before launching into a song about breakfast. At the very least he transitions his audience smoothly from one song to another, inviting them to take a ride with him ‘on down to Louisiana.’ His shows mirror his life, which consists of constantly riding from one gig to the next, so Woody’s shows are like miniature musical tours through the South from Richland, Texas to New Orleans to Nashville.

But now we’re in Aberdeen, just a couple of hours away. This is more of a city and we’re staying in a townhouse style bed and breakfast. There are seagulls here and on the drive up the sea appeared out of nowhere on or right. The boys are at a music store (I think because Woody keeps breaking strings) then on to sound check. I’ll meet them over at The Blue Lamp (their first bar gig of the tour) in a couple of hours.

Perthshire Show

2011-04-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

We are in Beatrix Potter land (Peter Rabbit land if you will). This perfect little town nestled in some of the highest elevation in Scotland is where the children’s author and artist used to visit when she wasn’t in London. It’s easy to see how this place could lend to the creation of such round, mostly happy (though often troubled) little animals. The art center where Woody played has a children’s exhibit with plenty of Potter paraphernalia and it leads into the Beatrix Potter Garden. The garden is sprinkled with bronze statues of alert little rabbits peering over your head from a hilltop and across the way, an angry looking fox retreating bitterly into the woods. Funnily, we noticed a pile of fresh white feathers underneath a tree, and with the bronze fox just feet away, it took little for my own imagination to begin to run away…

The theater at the art center was set up in an interesting way, with a small balcony ringing the top of the room, and an open wooden floor below set up haphazardly with tables and chairs. But it made for a loser, more social atmosphere as people purchased wine and beer at the bar then sat in groups to enjoy the music. Many of the audience members, we realized, had been to the show at the same venue when Woody passed through last year, and I even heard some people singing along. The show last Spring had been his last stop on the tour and by then he’d basically run out of CD’s, so there was a healthy amount of CD-buying between sets and after this year’s show.

It was the first show with technical problems. The first set was plagued by an obnoxious crackle in one of the speakers. But Woody kept things light-hearted and at one point Zach and Lyon joined in as all three of them broke into the robot to the sound of the crackling cutting sporadically in during the silence between songs. All the while Gerald worked tirelessly to find a solution, and after getting creative with the different microphones on stage, he was finally able to shift things around so that the source of the problem was eliminated. And things went smoothly from there on out.

On the merch table at each show there’s a flyer with Woody’s Scottish tour schedule on it, and the area we’re in is just small enough that many people promise to come out again to the next show in Stirling, or Aberdeen or Kilbarchan. At the very least, the hope is that people are telling their friends so that the shows will stay packed.

'Ugly Doll' in London

2011-04-23T06:38:00.000-07:00

'Ugly' says hi to Iris and Gael (and hi Michelle too!)

Loch Ness Monster...

2011-04-22T08:42:00.001-07:00

April 22^nd,

While yesterday brought stone cottages and a home-cooked meal made by Ross and Janet, the owners of the B&B, this morning breakfast was had at a cafeteria at the Scottish version of Walmart. So I bought a toothbrush for 50 pence and of course had lasagna, French fries and a cappuccino. Gerald stocked up on cheap beer and then we filled the tank with cheap gas, which it turns out isn’t really very cheap (we put 50 pounds in yesterday and another 50 in today). But they did really well in CD sales last night and there’s finally a little cash to go around among the boys. Next stop—Loch Ness to see if we can spot the monster. Inverness is at the top of the river that leads right into the loch, so we drive through the pretty, touristy town into the country where the loch opens before us—sparkling beneath a rare, sunny Scottish afternoon. Gerald lets us stop long enough to run down the hill, skip some rocks and dip our toes. He stays with the van and shouts down to us after about 4 minutes, “Get up here! Let’s get goin’!” Out of the corner of my eye I see something in the water splash up then quickly back under. I’m sure it was a fish, but let’s just pretend it was the end of a murky, gray tail…

Tonight the show is at another art center, this time in Perthshire.

First Show-Inverness

2011-04-22T08:40:00.000-07:00

April 21

Minutes before the first show at a fancy art center in Inverness, everyone is in the bright yellow dressing room. Woody is scrambling to get the second set list written down with a red sharpie, and Zack is sort of pacing around, occasionally wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. He can’t help but dread the dead silence that often occurs between songs in a seated theater of 250. He’s more comfortable in a bar scene where people hoot, holler, dance and know to clap and whistle after a solo. “Woody Pines this is your five minute warning. You’re on stage in five.” Zack cringes at the soothing sound of a proper British voice coming in over the PA system. “Gaah, I’d rather have Gerald yelling at me to ‘get on the fucking stage’ than that.” I can’t blame him. As the boys are hovering in the black wings just off stage, waiting for the Woody Pines introduction, the pressure mounts a bit, and as they walk on stage to pick up their instruments and greet the audience before starting in on “Can’t Get You Off My Mind,” their heels echo throughout the dull silence of an audience watching and waiting.

The first set of the first show sounds good, but there’s still this imaginary wall between the band and the audience that Woody tries to chip away at between songs with light-hearted banter. He apologizes each time he gets his kazoo out, whether verbally or with a knowing look out into the darkness where the audience supposedly sits. And while the kazoo can be torture when being played by a 6-year-old at a birthday party, Woody plays the high-pitched humming thing with a fast-paced confidence that immediately pours a prohibition-era sound out over the stage and into the audience.

In between sets Woody and the rest run out to the merch table to meet the audience and sign CD’s. People are lining up and buying two at a time, and they are smiling and shaking hands with the band and the sharpie can’t get passed around fast enough.

After getting to meet people face to face, and after playing a few numbers that require audience participation, the crowd loosens up and the second set is much more relaxed. There’s more toe-tapping in the audience, and even some yelling and shouting. After their last song, the band is called back for an encore with stopping feet, whistling, shouting and clapping. It’s all love.

The Alamo Bar

2011-04-22T08:39:00.001-07:00

April 20

After 4 hours of fitful nodding off on the train, we finally pulled into Glasgow Central station. A man in a baseball cap and a red flannel picks us out of the crowd (Lyon is pretty obvious with his guitar) and says, “Are you Lyon and Alice?” He sticks his hand out and introduces himself as Gerald. A little boy with blond hair dressed in a light blue soccer uniform hops down off of a ledge, and his father introduces him as Adam. He smiles shyly. But on the van ride to our bed and breakfast outside of Glasgow, we’ll hear from him about the time he broke his arm and he’ll act out the look of shock on his face when he looked down to find it bend in two places. He’ll make vomiting sounds for us at the thought of eating peanut butter and will even give us a jar of peanut butter that was left by the last band that traveled through—The Wiyos, a band Lyon and I know very well. ‘It’s even organic!’ he says with an air of sarcasm way beyond his 7 years. We know he’s 7 because he told us that he was ‘7 going on 8,’ and then he explained that the year after that he’d be 9 and after that 10 and 11 and so forth, as he waived his hand in blasé repetition.

The B&B, a series of stone cottages located in the middle of green, rolling hills and wandering sheep was great. Everything here gets recycled, or composted, and lights turn out on their own after being on for a while. Anyhow, Lyon and I conked out just as Zack and Woody were waking up since they’d arrived hours before us. In a matter of seconds we were asleep, but we only rested for a couple of hours before Gerald came to pick us up for a round of beers at his favorite pub in his hometown. “Alrrrright you fuckers, get in the fuckin’ van!” Gerald gets everyone’s butts in gear and keeps a tight schedule, but that’s why he’s so necessary. When he’s talking to the boys it’s ‘bloody this’ and ‘fuckin’ that,’ but he calls me ‘darling.’ He doesn’t take any bullshit, and he’s been managing tours for decades—later he’ll tell us stories that involve hookers, bags of cocaine and Japanese record deals. But really, I miss about 25% of what he’s saying because he’s so damn Scottish. I’ve decided that the Scottish accent is a mixture of Spanish (the frequent rolling ‘r’), French (puckered ‘u’ sound) and British English (that open-mouthed ‘r’ like in the word ‘better’ pronounced ‘beh-ha’).

Gerald’s hometown is called Paisely—like the pattern! And his favorite bar is called ‘The Alamo’—like the fort in San Antonio! Walking up to the door there was a window with a rebel flag displayed, and little figurines of confederate soldiers. Inside there were giant flags hanging from the ceiling of all the states south of the Mason Dixon line. Totally bizarre! The boys didn’t play any music since there was a soccer game on, but half way through the night the bar tender did blast their CD and some of the locals bought copies and had Woody sign them. A group of about 6 regulars at the bar are planning on going to visit the real Alamo next month and they were excited to see pictures Woody had of their visit there just a few weeks ago. As the night wore on, Zack scored some super Euro Prada shoes that the bar tender had acquired somehow, and one of the more tipsy locals kept hugging me and Lyon and telling us to never let each other go.

That night we slept like rocks.

Flight Over to London

2011-04-22T08:36:00.000-07:00

April 19^th

I ate too many goldfish and I have to pee, but I’m buried under my laptop with my headphones plugged into Antony and the Johnsons so I’m not getting up. “When was the last time we were on a plane together?” Lyon asks once we’re settled into our seats on the flight from Austin to Houston. Neither of us could remember, we thought it might have been 3 summers ago when we both went to visit Austin. Lyon thought we had flown to Argentina together—how easily he imagined me up. Really we met each other there, and then flew out separately. So yeah, we came to the conclusion that we’d only ever flown together once. But—duh—we were both wrong. We flew to Seattle just last August with our bikes in boxes. I remember sitting in the window seat at the gate, and watching our bikes get loaded onto the conveyor belt. I was so nervous, more nervous than boarding a plane to study abroad. That was a while ago now.

I’m not nervous now. Scotland feels like a hop, jump and a skip away for some reason. While we shared a lot of the responsibility for making the cycling trip happen, and figuring out what we needed, what our route would be, etc, I’m just along for the ride this time. I am just the “groadie” as my Aunt Kathy deemed me (girlfriend + roadie). I don’t have to keep us moving or figure out where we’re sleeping next—I don’t even know where all we’re going. All I have to worry about is the lighting at different venues and sticking a camera in peoples’ faces. I can’t wait.

Meet Iris's 'Ugly Doll'

2011-04-19T11:50:00.001-07:00

My friend's daughter Iris (coolest kid on earth!) is letting me pocket her little green doll called 'Ugly Doll' for a month. Me & ol' Ugly over here will be traveling the UK w/ Woody Pines & sending pics back to the home front via the intranets...

Starbucks' Logo and the Original Temptress

2011-01-06T07:52:00.000-08:00

Starbucks announced today that it changed its logo. The company is keeping the mermaid image but dropping their name and their forte, “Starbucks” and “Coffee.” Removing their name from the logo feels sneaky to me, like they’ll be able to dip their hands into other ventures without us noticing as easily. If they want to branch out into selling beer, wine and ice cream, I can understand that they’d want to drop “Coffee” from the logo. But why drop the name?

But that’s not really what I meant to write about. Starbucks’ homogenization of American culture is its own topic! What caught my eye was the logo itself because I remember talking with my friend Kelly about the evolution of this rather pleasant, longhaired mermaid character. This is not the first time Starbucks has modified its logo, in fact, it’s gone through an entire evolution since 1971.

When Kelly and I were talking, while driving somewhere together, she described how the mermaid was actually a two-finned siren, but I couldn’t remember ever having noticed that the Starbucks mermaid had two tails. All I could picture was a pretty face and long flowing hair. She went on to talk about the original image in which the mermaid was actually bare-breasted, and holding both tails in either hand splitting her fins apart in a suggestive, derogatory stance. And apparently, In 2008, Starbucks tried to return to the old logo whose origins can be found in a Norse woodcut. But that didn’t go over well. They were called “Slutbucks” by certain conservative groups and I don't think the logo throwback lasted very long.

I’d meant to look the image up the next chance I got, but forgot until just now when I came across the latest logo change.

So here it is now, the original Starbucks logo from 1971. Goodness! The Starbucks mermaid has really cleaned her act up.

Nina

2011-01-03T13:25:00.000-08:00

Nina is old. She’s no longer “getting old,” she’s there. The family dog that we got when I was in 7^th grade is over 14 years in age now, and when she walks by me in the living room when I’m reading a book, I reach out to her as a sign of affection, but she just sniffs my hand and, finding there’s no food in it, hobbles on.

She has cloudy cataract eyes with old lady warts growing up from her eyelids. Her hips are fragile things and she wobbles after getting out of bed and giving herself a good shake. Sometimes she’ll attempt to shake her body, which sends her ears flapping and probably feels really good, but then she’ll give up and walk a few more steps. She’ll try again, steadying herself before launching into it, finally managing.

I remember a younger, bushy-tailed Nina with a big, goofy smile and expressive eyes and ears. Her ears are really why we couldn’t resist her at the pound so many years ago. She’s a funny mix, Corgy and German Shepherd we think. So she has the short, stout body of a Corgy, with oversized ears, but the tan and black markings of a German Shepherd. When we first got her, she was afraid of everything. I’d try to take her on walks, but she’d sense when we were about to pass by a house where another dog lived, and she’d plop her haunches down on the sidewalk refusing to go any further. More than once I had to scoop her up and carry her home, which earned me funny looks from people and even comments like, “Who’s walking who here?”

Eventually though, she would earn the blue ribbon in obedience school, something that allowed her to get away with a lot later on. She’d “forget” how to walk on a leash, instead choosing to sniff every plant we passed by, and she’d burst out of the front yard, darting across the street to terrorize a passing dog, she’d ignore us when we called her. But we knew in the back of our minds that she was capable of so much, she had won the blue ribbon in obedience school!

She hated water, jumping over tiny puddles on walks so as not to dampen her paws. She did not fetch, and did not know why you would throw a tennis ball and then talk and point excitedly at it. Silly humans. Nina was a “shop dog.” She went every day to work with my parents and did lord-knows-what. She was just happy to be guarding the shop, smelling interesting things, checking out the customers and hanging out with the Grays. Every morning was exciting because when she heard the keys jingling she knew she got to go for a ride in the truck and would be included in the events of the day. Every afternoon was exciting because she got to come home and pee in certain places in the front yard remarking her territory. Once she was so excited to see the house that she jumped out of the bed of the truck while the car was still moving (albeit at 5 miles an hour), and when she hit the ground she rolled a few times before eventually jumping to her feet, shaking it off and parading up the driveway like she’d meant to do it.

Nina always knew people, too, and it was always so fun to come home after being away and yell “Nina! Nina! Nina!” and hear her running through the house to get to you. She always loved Julia and Katie and never barked when she saw it was them at the door. But eventually she stopped acknowledging people, stopped getting excited when I came home.

Now, each morning she positions herself so that she can see when my parents are leaving for work. She can’t hear the jingling of the keys anymore. And when she knows it’s time, she follows them to the door and tries to squeeze past them, but they don’t take her any longer. They haven’t for a few months now because something at the shop was causing her to loose all her hair and to scratch herself constantly. She’s much healthier when she stays at the house. But Nina doesn’t get that. All she knows is that when she tries to go to work in the morning, something she’s done every day for over a decade, she gets a gentle foot pushing her back, and a door closed softly before her nose. Next her ears go up and she runs to the window to watch the truck pull away without her. She remains poised and attentive in case my dad decides to come back for her. But he never does.

She’s got a cyst on her neck that’s growing and we can all agree that while she doesn’t appear to be in pain, she hasn’t been happy for a while. And the other day in the kitchen the dreaded question of what to do came up but then faded again because Nina is part of the family. And how can you tell when it’s time to let a family member go? “I can’t be the one to do it this time,” is my dad’s honest, painful conclusion. “I’ll bury her when the time comes, but I can’t take her to the vet for that.” “Our dogs live long lives,” says my Mom, “for better or worse.” Everyone is thinking of Rosie, the dog we had when I was younger.

So here we are with an old, very loved dog on our hands who is just a shadowy version of herself. And for now, that is how things stand. We’ll wait for Nina to tell us what to do because we can’t make the decision ourselves.

Dr. TV!

2010-11-22T15:48:00.000-08:00

Remember that episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets up off the couch to go fix the snowy-screened television? He pounds his fist on top of the thing and yells, "Dr TV!" Lo and behold, it works!

Well, "Dr. TV" has taken on a new meaning for me since living in a home where there's a working television, and-you know-not having a real job yet. In the weeks that I've been back, and during the times that I've been lucky enough to be home during daytime television, I have come across something disturbing. The phenomenon of daytime medical talk shows, studio audience style.

I'm no pop culture expert, but I have a certain level of tolerance for trashy TV (maybe even a certain fascination with it at times). So I think I'm right in saying that these types of shows are fairly new. Dr. Phil probably helped pave the way for all this with his show, his really brilliant show. Taking apart the intimate fears and problems of people on national television must be really therapeutic to your guests.

During the same time slot as "Dr. Phil" is a show called "The Doctors." There are four main doctors on this show that specialize in different fields and they do everything from discussing popular medical issues in the form of a panel, to bringing guests like Magic Johnson on the show, to singling out members of the audience and helping them solve their health problems. It's like "The View," "Rachel Ray" and "Good Morning America" with a little "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" thrown in. And the one female doctor on the show, whose lips are pulled so tight she sounds drunk when she talks, wears Uggs with her lab coat.

Today on "The Doctors," featured a segment called, "The fast new fix to stop excessive head sweat." Let me tell you, stopping exesive head sweat involves needles in your scalp!

But "Dr. Oz" is the worst-mostly because he's creepy looking and kind of pushy. Having a car salesman as your doctor would be better than having this guy. The snippet I watched from this show last week was called, "Conquer Your Food Cravings." Dr. Oz brought up a woman from the audience and walked her through the steps. This is how it went:

"There are three ways you can conquer your cravings...number one: If you don't have what your fix is, you're not going to be able to restrain, so you should never go hungry. The second, is this 'Just Ten' bracelet (looks right into camera). This is not an accident. This is not a marketing ploy, you can't even see my name on this thing (gestures towards 'Just Ten' bracelet on wrist), okay, this is here for one reason: it reminds you that you're on this planet..."

This particular scene finishes with Dr. Oz's assistant taking the poor woman's hands and making her do what he calls, "rubbing it in." She's supposed to take any compliments she gets about practicing self control (even if the complement comes from herself) and literally "rub it in" by making circular motions near her heart.

Here's the video. Keep an eye of Dr.Oz's gaze as his guest is "rubbing it in." Creepy, right?

This show seems to focus less on actual medical issues of the day, and seems more interested in capitalizing on the housewife's addiction to learning the "secret" to losing weight. With segments called, "The Secrets of the Skinny," and "Conquer Your Cravings," the show's target audience will never go unsatisfied.

Despite any good someone could argue these shows do, I think that they are mostly harmful. They are born from the plethora of reality medical shows from TLC and the Discovery Channel and now shows like "Boston Med," on ABC which made this genre mainstream, and from online sites like "Webmd" where anyone can find tools for self-diagnosis, a popular American pastime. But we shouldn't be taking our medical advice from daytime television. Medical talk shows just give us more to worry about. I didn't even know "head sweat" was a thing. Are you supposed to get shots in your scalp so that you don't have to wash your hair after going running? There will always be a "latest danger" to your child's health or a "latest study" that finds that yet one more ubiquitous thing in our lives is giving us cancer. So I say, don't spend what little time you have left watching "The Doctors" or "Dr. Oz." Quick! Go take your kid to the park before you die from eating a batch of recalled eggs!

The Alamo Draft House Presents...

2010-11-18T07:30:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the must-see circuit of Austin landmarks like Barton Springs, Amy's Ice Cream, South Congress, the Spider House, Mt. Bonnell, Auditorium Shores, lunch at Gueros, can be exhausting, especially if you have a flurry of out-of-town visitors in a row. Luckily I haven't lived here for a while, so showing people around these days is new again.

But here's an "Austin gem" that I never tire of taking visitors to. It's a place where you can sit comfortably and watch a movie on the big screen while a waiter tip-toes over to you and brings you a class of beer, a quesadilla, fried pickles, or even a spicy bleu cheese burger. This concept, combining good food with a movie theater experience, is novel enough. But the Alamo Draft House doesn't stop there.

On any given week, you can choose from a $1 midnight showing from the "Weird Wednesdays" series. Or you might buy your tickets weeks in advance like I did so that you won't miss the Ninja Turtles movie event, complete with all-you-can-eat pizza for the night. Then there's the Labyrinth sing-along, the showing of Top Gun where the audience is encouraged to heckle the actors on screen. Oh! And it seems like once a year they show all three Lord of the Ring films in a row and bring the audience small-portioned "hobbit food" in intervals.

Tuesday night at the Draft House we saw Humphrey Bogart in The Desperate Hours (1955). This was part of a series put on by the Austin Film Society. There aren't many places where you can see movies from the 50's on the big screen, and even fewer where the movies get introduced by someone who's able to set the scene for you a little. "This was 'Bogie's' second-to-last film", we are told by a man standing before the audience with a microphone, "and by this point he has lung cancer-he'll die 2 years later." We learn more about the director, William Wyler, who won countless Oscars in his time, but who's ceased to be a house-hold name today. And then, the audience is clapping and the scratchy music is playing as Humphrey Bogart's name appears in large letters on the screen.

The film was clever, suspenseful and shot mostly inside a suburban home where a family has been taken hostage by 3 criminals on the run after a jailbreak. There's the old-timer criminal mastermind (Bogart), his younger, handsome brother, and then there's the wild card, a 250-pound drunk with a crazed look in his eye. I enjoy watching old films for the fun of it, to see how far we've come, and to have a more complete repertoire so I can catch references and homages in today's film world. But I'm not always able to completely enter a film from the 30's, 40's or 50's without being aware in the back of my mind that the actors are actors and their surroundings are constructed sets. Compared to films produced today, these older movies can sometimes be laughable, even if they're still enjoyable.

But The Desperate Hours had me hooked and had me grabbing my boyfriend's hand. It had me willing certain characters in my mind to "run away!" or "don't go back there!" This film did with its plot and its characters what films today try to do by combining frequent cuts, elaborate locations, expensive digital technology and loud sound effects that make your seat rumble. It made me believe, it made me care.

The Crazies (no this is not an entry about my family)

2010-11-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

After working with my mom some yesterday to clean up the Clayworks garden in preparation for E.A.S.T. (www.eastaustinstudiotour.com), I went home tired and headachy. Instead of taking an ibuprofen and a nap, I decided to watch a zombie movie.

The Crazies is a 2010 remake from a George Romero 1973 film by the same name. Man that guy is a prolific zombie film maker. Why did I subject myself to a zombie film? Why do I ever? I hated that classic cult film from the 80's Evil Dead. I got it. I understood why it had become such a classic. It's so bad it's funny! It's so gory it's ridiculous! But I couldn't sit through the whole thing. I did have fun, though, watching the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead, it was sort of like watching Jurassic Park but with zombies instead of dinosaurs.

I think the reason I liked The Crazies so much was that it mixed the science fiction and zombie-thriller genres. The disease in the film responsible for turning people hostile and numb inside was the result of a biological weapon spill in a small Iowa town's water supply. These zombies wanted to kill you, yes, but they did not want to FEED on you, so it's okay. I think we all agree that the scariest zombies are the ones that want to eat your brains.

So in my book, the reasonable zombies win. Seriously, truck driver zombie dude with a mohawk wearing flannel, just shoot me. Don't get me wrong, the zombies in this movie are scary. I'm thinking specifically of that "crazy" that drags a bloody pitch fork behind him as he slowly closes in on one of our protagonists while she's helplessly strapped to a gurney. But like, thanks for not clawing my eyes out and reaching up my nose to get to my brains. Pitch fork in the stomach sucks, but it's quick.

Still, no matter what species of zombie we are working with, it must be hard to make a zombie movie that your audience won't feel like they've already seen. Like this scene: a lady walks into a room and goes about her business while we, the audience, can see that behind her a zombie is slowly creeping up with it's head tilted eerily to the side. Sound familiar? There are so many scenes that make you want to yell, "Turn around! Turn around!" and "What are you DOING? Don't you know you're in a ZOMBIE MOVIE???"

There are a lot of zombie movies to see and compare, old ones, new ones, remakes. Let's be honest, the best one is Shaun of the Dead. Who doesn't love seeing objects bounce off the hard forehead of a clueless zombie? And now there's even an entire T.V. series about zombies (The Walking Dead, which you can watch on the big screen each week at the Alamo Draft House). The other night , in between bites of chocolate ice cream, my mom informed us that, "zombies are meant to be just an occasional little treat," there shouldn't be a weekly show about them. I agree. That's too much zombie.

But I think I might beef up on some zombie classics, just for fun. If anyone wants to join.

Pecans

2010-11-03T19:26:00.000-07:00

The weather aligned this season so that the two pecan trees in my parents' backyard would not disappoint. Every evening after work my parents wander the yard with their heads down and their eyes peeled. My dad is in competition with the squirrels, which is why he encourages the family to get out there in the yard every day before the animals can mutilate and run off with too many. "I found one!" you'll hear him yell, loud enough to make the little backyard creature hear. He comes home and the first thing he says is, "How many did you get?" How many what? Oh, pecans. Oops, yeah, about that.

But today it was windy and rainy and I knew that the yard would be scattered with pecans that couldn't hold on any longer. And I was right! Lyon and I came back in with handfuls. As we scoured the backyard, I remembered our old house where we had several pecan trees and and 3 fig trees. Some autumns we would fill entire paper groceries sacks with pecans. The familiar "tink!" of the heavy nuts in their double shells falling on the roof and the sidewalk, the uneven ground under our feet making it hard to walk around barefoot, the satisfying crunch of the nut cracker and the meticulous way in which we would shimmy the nuts out of their little shells so that they wouldn't break.

Heentime

2010-10-29T08:54:00.001-07:00

Hina and the Oyster-Los Angeles

2010-10-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

Hina and Lyon and I arrive in L.A.'s Redondo Beach sometime in the evening after the sun has set. We walk the pier, reading restaurant signs, trying to decide what we want to fill our bellies with. We settle on an Asian crab shack.

If we had continued walking down the pier, we would have found that the restaurants disappeared and were replaced by clusters of expectant fishing poles leaned against the railing. A row of families as long as the pier wait for the night's catch. A little boy stands on his tippy toes to reach a public sink with a sign over it that reads, "Fish Parts Only." Next to him is the carcass of a silvery, wide-eyed fish. Down the way a father is casting his line while his family waits patiently on the planks behind him. His wife in a fold-out chair bundled up with a coat and blanket over her knees and next to her, on the ground, a pile of tired children, buried in sleeping bags.

Back at the crab shack we take a seat next to the window. It's dark out but we can see the glimmer of white foam from waves pouring in and getting sucked back out. Seagulls sit restlessly on the swells, flying up when a wave breaks under them, only to swoop back down and try, unsuccessfully to settle again on the tumultuous water.

Everyone in the restaurant is Korean except us, most of them are wearing white bibs as they devour a nice lobster dinner. We scan the menu, and our eyes fall upon the safest dishes there: fried cod, fried shrimp, fried calamari. If they're fried, we argue, they can't be raw. Then, Hina asks, "What exactly do oysters taste like?" But neither Lyon or I has ever tried oysters before, so we can't answer her. I'm pretty sure that mussels are about as squishy as I can go, so we decide on the 3 fried dishes and push a little button at the end of our table.

Across the room I see the number "31" light up on an electronic sign. Soon a small Korean waitress is at our table, we have ordered, and she's collecting menus. But Hina hesitates, her mind not quite made up. "Would it be possible to order just 1 oyster?" she asks, hoping to satisfy a curious tickle in her brain. "Oyster?" says the waitress, nodding and writing in her notepad. "But just 1" Heen says, holding up her pointer finger to indicate how many. "One oyster?" The waitress hesitates, but figures it can be done, and acknowledges that she understands by saying allowed, "one oyster" as she scratches in her pad. "How is it cooked?" Heen asks before the waitress can walk away. "Not cooked," is the response. "Raw?" asks Hina. "Raw," the lady confirms. The waitress hovers to make sure Hina still wants it, and Hina looks to me and Lyon while she decides. I try to warm up to the waitress who looks confused or maybe concerned, explaining that my friend has never tried oysters she just wants to know what they're like, but the waitress hardly looks at me. Instead, she stands motionless with her pen poised to seal the order until Hina breaks the uncertainly and says, "Okay I'll have one. One oyster please!"

A few minutes later the waitress brings over the oyster on a plate with a lemon wedge and a small side of Tabasco sauce. She almost hurries away after setting the plate down, but Hina keeps asking her questions about how to eat it, and keeps having her confirm that the thing is indeed raw. It's at this point that the waitress finally understands that her customer is trying something for the first time. She starts to get into it, warning Hina that the sauce is hot, telling her, yes, she should squeeze lemon over it, and motioning that she should just pick up the shell and slurp it down. After this, she can't leave. She tries to, her body is twisted sideways, one foot in the direction of the kitchen, her neck craned to see what Hina will do. She has to know if Hina likes the Oyster. Finally Hina squeezes the lemon and pours the Tabasco sauce over the gray, gooey matter before her, looking to the waitress to make sure she's doing it right, and receiving only encouragement. Then, down the trap! It seems to go immediately from her mouth to her belly, I'm not sure if she chewed, or if you're supposed to. She has everyone's full attention-we are all quiet with expectation. "Hmmmm" Hina says ambiguously, then she gives the waitress a thumbs up. "This, no charge," the woman says before walking away.

Hina's eyes get big and she downs a glass of water. When asked what it tastes like she says, "Tabasco sauce" and she sucks air in through her teeth trying to cool her mouth.

Nothing is boring if you bring Hina around with you. After dinner that evening it was on to Wayne "the train" Hancock.

Still Coasting

2010-10-27T13:05:00.000-07:00

We are still "here." Last night we landed back at what's now home base with a couple of skips and a loud, surging, windy stop. Welcome to Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. I powered up the smart phone and called my Dad as we taxied in, "we're here," I say, "I'll be right there!" he says cheerily. 1707 Rogge lane is a 15 minute drive away. It's 57 degrees and breezy as we wait outside the airport near the "pet relief area" for my dad to come get us. I'm in the middle of a mad game of Tetris, Lyon looking over my shoulder, cheering me on, when I hear a honk and look up to see my dad waiving enthusiastically from the curbside.

Mom's wide awake when we pull in just after 11pm, and she fixes me, Lyon and my dad up with a bowl of black-eyed pea soup and a side of buttered cornbread. Home.

Next morning (that's today) we are faced with the piles of forwarded mail that have been accumulating, and after coffee we divide and conquer. One pile for Lyon, one pile for me: bills, loans, health insurance, to-be-recycle. Welcome home.

Our things are everywhere and we don't know how to organize any of it because nothing has a place here. We can't find the title to Lyon's Subaru in order to get it registered and insured in time for the Blackpot festival in Lafayette. It is here somewhere. We'll still get to go to Louisiana, my parents offered to lend the car if we need it. Home.

Unsure of where I'm registered to vote in this state of limbo, I find a current voter registration card on my desk in my room. I'll be voting as a Texan.

Someone reading this blog might think we never made it to Los Angeles. But we did! Hina opened up her little studio home to us and we managed to pack so much in, including doing nothing. It was perfect. I'll write about it soon because there are things to share: Obama, bus rides, Buffalo Exchange, underground restaurant, hiking, Fresh Prince, Hollywood sign, Getty museum, asian spa, Wayne Hancock...

Right now Lyon's playing his saxophone (he's so happy), and I'm going to put my poor bike together. The call of grackles, a luke warm breeze made sweet from brown, autumn leaves. I haven't been here during October since 2002. Welcome home.

Boxing up the Bikes

2010-10-19T10:41:00.001-07:00

Yesterday we said goodbye to or bicycles, Lady Borealis (thanks for your help with that one, Amy) and Onward (Lyon's mantra throughout the trip). It was like dismembering our children, closing them up in boxes and telling them, "No, honey, you didn't do anything wrong." Okay, so it wasn't that dramatic, but it was sad!

First we had to find bike boxes, which we easily scored at Bobcat Bicycles. Dragging them back to the motel was another story. But we giggled as we tried to hold onto our 56 by 31 inch boxes, spinning in the wind and attempting to walk straight.

Back at the motel we separated out what we wanted to keep (clothes, toiletries, journals) and what we wanted to send back (tent, cook set, bike shorts). Then we loaded our bikes up with one pannier each, and even invented a way of attaching the boxes to the bikes, which involved bungees and balancing the boxes on a pedal, prohibiting any backwards motion.

We geared up for the 15 block walk to the nearest UPS store. I would never think to look for any other shipping providers because my uncle works for UPS and our family is loyal to brown. But after one block of trying to keep my bike in a straight line, I looked up and a FedEx store was staring me in the face. I easily caved. We stopped and packaged them up right there. Sorry uncle Frank! I'm weak!

In 15 minutes we'll walk to the Salinas Amtrak station and hop on the Coastal Starlight which will stick mostly to the coast so we get to see the scenery we are missing by not riding our bikes. We'll say goodbye to Steinbeck country. He's from Salinas so there's a museum and statutes around town. I picked up Cannery Row now that Lyon is finished, and was reading it in the window if a coffee shop yesterday. A man walked by with his dog and slowed, tapping the glass to get my attention. He pointed to his shirt and I saw that it had a quote by John Steinbeck on it, "I guess there can never be enough books." I smiled and gave him a thumbs up, he returned the gesture and kept walking.

On to L.A. Hina, here we come.

Big Sur

2010-10-18T17:59:00.001-07:00

Our ride from Monterey to Big Sur seemed short. The weather was kind of overcast, but there were still some beautiful views of the rugged coastline. The hills were mostly tame with only one cape that swung in and around a cove, swooping low to sea level before climbing steeply back up. As soon as we left the small town of Carmel behind, we were already in Big Sur territory, which gets its name from a phrase in Spanish: "el pais grande del sur." Big Sur is famous for being sort of wild and isolated. This section of highway 1 was one of the first to be declared a "National Scenic Byway."

Along the way I passed a woman who had pulled over and was pacing nervously as she looked out over a field between the road and the coast. I was going slow enough on a steady uphill, that our eyes met and she felt she needed to share with me that a cow just over there was going into labor. "What?" I said, as I pulled over onto the dirt turnout. Sure enough, there was a large carmel-colored cow lying on her side with a bloated belly. Every once in a while, she would pick her head up and sort of roll her eyes before allowing it to thump back onto the grass. The lady I was standing next to had grown up on a farm and seemed to know what stage the cow was in, apparently she was having contractions. Eventually I left, knowing I didn't have all day to stand there and watch a cow give birth, but the woman stayed, saying she just wanted to make sure she was alright "I've had 3 natural childbirths of my own.." she said, trailing off, not really making eye contact with me as she sent encouraging mental vibes over the fence to the cow.

Part way we met Tomas and Tim, two touring cyclists from Oakland, CA. They were just out for a week and had taken off without any maps or books or anything. They figured they could just following hwy 1 the entire way. That worked for them, they said, until it was time to find a campsite, or when the highway turned to freeway and didn't allow bicycles any longer. We assured them the best place to stop, just before a large hill, was Pfeiffer-Big Sur State Park, and there would be groceries in town just before the park. We parted ways and said, "see you there." It was clear that this park was a destination for lots of people. The Hike/Bike area was gigantic, but we still had to share a table and fire pit because they were all taken. And the next day while roaming the park looking for a shower and laundry, we realized just how big the park was with 200 plus campsites. The benefit of staying in a state park that also happens to be an international destination, was that there was a fancy lodge with a fire place and leather couches, a cafe and a restaurant. But we spent that first night hanging out with Tomas, Tim and 3 college kids also from the bay area who had decided to hop on their bikes, lash all the camping gear they owned to them, and head south. One of the kids, Fernando, road his single speed! "People said I couldn't do it," was his response to our incredulity, "so I had to." Apparently he was so used to riding a single speed (or "track bike" as this specific genre was called), that the hills were no problem. And his bike does have breaks (both of them), don't worry.

Tim and Tomas told us stories about life in Oakland, mostly involving cops, marijuana, a gun chase and living in "squats" with no running water and parts of the roof missing. These annecdotes sort of coroborated the craziness I'd been reading in a memoire I picked up by a local San Francisco author called, "Everybody into the Pool." It was nice spending one of our last nights out surrounded by other young people who like riding their bikes. It was also a good excuse to finally go all out and buy marshmallows, graham crackers and Hershey's chocolate. Oh, you know what happened next! (And no, for those of you who know about my marshmallow addiction, I did not throw up. Lyon kept an eye on me.)

The next day we felt strange not packing our tent up and geting a move on. Tim and Tomas took their time getting on the road, and talk of rain in the next few days didn't make me envy them. Stephanie was at the campsite as well. We've probably camped with her 4 or 5 times times over the trip, and Big Sur was her destination as well. As I mentioned in a previous blog entry, she'd ridden all the way across the country. So, seeing her pack up to get on a bus and head north was really sad. "Well," she said at some point late in the morning, "I'm going to head out," and she stood up from the picnic table. "Are you going for a ride?" I asked, not realizing how late it was, and thinkig she'd want to go exploring before leaving the park. "No, I'm going to wait for the bus!" I gave her a big hug and wished her luck integrating back into the "real world." She'd been out since May. Then we all watched her with kind of pathetic sighs as she walked towards her bike.

That day we had planned to ride to the top of the hill just a couple miles south so we could really see Big Sur. But it turned out to be sort of a dreary day, and we knew the coastline would be covered in fog anyhow, so we didn't even go those last 2 miles to the top of the hill. Oh well, we didn't care. We were there. Instead, we went for a hike (in our bike shoes which made for awkward footing because of the metal cleats). From the Valley Viewpoint we could see the entire Big Sur valley, and even some of the Pacific in the distance.

We spent a lot of time reading our books, Lyon finishing up Cannery Row and me concluding Everbody into the Pool. Then for dinner we shared a can of chilli before heading to the cozy lodge for glasses of wine and an appetizer of roasted cheese. The next day, we had no problem catching the bus in Big Sur and getting our bikes on the racks (thank goodness we didn't have to fight any other cyclists for rack space). As we headed north towards Monterey, retracing our route from a couple of days before, it started to rain. It was a tease to think that we were only 300 miles from Los Angeles. Just another week riding our bikes would get us there. But I think, as we peered out from the warm, dry bus at other cyclists riding through the rain, we were happy to be closing this chapter of our adventure. We'll continue coasting for a little while, just without our bicycles.

Final Fundraiser Update-SWEET!

2010-10-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

At the time of my last fundraiser update from San Fransisco, we had raised about $755. That same day I sent around one last reminder via email, and incredibly, the next time I checked the fundraiser account, we had both met and surpassed our goal.

We have raised a grand total of $1,194.84 for Posada Esperanza. I can hardly describe how that feels. In the same way that we met our cycling goal by physically arriving in San Fransisco, and then went beyond that goal by cycling further south, we met our fundraising goal of $1,000 and then managed to raise a little more.

Of course, all we did was keep a blog and send out an email. It's really all of you who are responsible for such a succesfull fundraiser.

Thank you so much! Wahooo!!!!

Love,
Alice and Lyon

To Big Sur

2010-10-15T11:21:00.001-07:00

I just want to say I have been loving our leisurly pace since leaving San Fransisco. The day we left Pigeon Point, for example, we didn't take off until 12:30, we had an hour long lunch in Davenport, and then arrived in Santa Cruz at 4pm in time for a beer and some nachos by the beach. We rode through some fog as the sun was setting and pulled into New Brighton State Beach campsite just after the last bit of light had disappeared from the sky. It's been great. And I feel good too. We haven't pushed much past 45 miles in a day, which is good because once we pass 50 my neck usually starts to hurt and bike riding for me stops being quite as fun.

At New Brighton we ran into Stephanie, a cyclist who had been traveling with her sister when we met her at the campsite on the Avenue of the Giants. Her sister had since flown home, back to NYC, and Stephanie had kept on riding, with Big Sur as her destination. Why not? She'd already put some 6,000 miles behind her since she'd started in D.C. Incredible.

Yesterday should have been an easy 40 miles from Santa Cruz to Monterey, and as we started out, riding through strawberry fields that made the air smell like cotton candy, I was sure it would be. But we ended up facing some of the most fierce headwinds we've come across this entire trip. Just riding on flat terrain into the wind, I looked down at my spedometer, and I was going 6 miles an hour. The worst part though, was the dirt that the wind picked up in empty fields. We just turned our heads and rode through blocks of dirt blowing over the road. At the end of the day I wiped away a ring of dirt that had formed around my mouth, and my legs looked deceptively tan. But we made it, and were able to enjoy a 15 mile bike path from Seaside into Monterey, avoiding traffic the entire way.

Anyhow, today is our last day on our bicycles heading south. We are about 32 miles from Big Sur where we'll camp and then get up in the morning and ride our bikes up a steep, long climb for the famous view we've been hearing about. I can't imagine it being much more beautiful or impressive than anything else we've seen on this coast. But what do I know? I'll report back once I've seen it. This has been Lyon's goal from the very beginning while I skeptically didn't think we'd make it much further than San Fransisco. After two nights of camping in Big Sur we'll cycle back north to Monterey (where I'm writing from right now), and then take a bus to Salinas.

Then on to see Hina in L.A.! Bye, bye bicycles!

To Monterey

2010-10-14T09:25:00.001-07:00

From our campsite we can see nearly our entire route for today. We're just going around the bay to Monterey. Here's a picture of where we're going. Time is almost up here in bicycle land.

Santa Cruz

2010-10-13T16:55:00.001-07:00

We made it to Santa Cruz! Camping near by, them tomorrow to Monterey.

Finding Our Way to Pigeon Point

2010-10-13T09:58:00.001-07:00

Leaving San Mateo was a little rough as we climbed around some steep hills in the hot sun through shade,less suburbia. And as we drew nearer to the bridge that crossed highway 92 towards what we thought looked like a bike path on google maps, we got quite a few looks from people who thought we were stupid, and some annoyed honks too. Though there were racing bikes speeding all around us (hopefully towards this magical bike path?), we were out of the land of loaded down touring bikes, miles and mountains away from highway 1. On the other side of the bridge, we saw a cyclist disappear around a corner and low and behold, he had hopped onto the bike path. Thank God! We left the traffic behind and rolled safely through dry, grassy hills around highway 92 and then up and over highway 280 on an impressive pedestrian bridge. It spit us out on Canada Road, and as we pondered what to do next (google said go right but or instincts said go left), an older English man in full cycling gear rolled up to us and started asking us questions about where we were headed. He gave us detailed directions about how to get over the mountains to the coast in safe cycling-friendly roads and as it turned out, our instincts were correct, we headed left. 'If you have all day,' the man said just before leaving us, ' you'll make it.' Oh we have all day, I thought.

The road that got us over the main ridge was barely wide enough for a car and a bicycle going one direction, and it was sure a slap in the face after 4 days of rest, we went up on that thing for over an hour, but we didn't regret going that way. There were more cyclists than cars and we were shaded by tall redwoods and observed by deer, both babies and bucks along the way. The down hill was dreamy. At points the road was no wider than a bike path, and we didn't pass a single car.

When we finally hit the coast, it was 6:15, and we still had 10 miles to go until Pigeon Point Lighthouse, which doubled as a hostel. I was determined to get there, so we hunkered down and kept riding, finally back on coastal highway 1. The only problem on our minds as the sun sank to our right, casting a red light over the Pacific, was that, despite having called the hostel numerous times, no one had answered. We were racing against time towards a place we were unsure would have a bed for us. Finally, when we saw a sign for the town of Pescadero and, knowing it would be pitch black in 5 minutes, we bailed. All day we had not seen a single campground or inn, and when we got to Pescadero, nothing changed. We decided to get dinner at the local historic tavern to think and see if the locals had any ideas.

The only idea our waitress had was for us to stay at this Swedish-style converted barn which probably cost $200 a night. We thanked her and proceeded to order our cream of green chilli soup, imagining ourselves sneaking onto someone's farmland and pitching our tent for the night.

Delaying the inevitable, we went next door to the bar. Sure enough, a woman i'd run into in the bathroom (we bonded because her hair was a mess from her walk on the beach earlier and mine was a mess from riding my bike 40 miles) asked us a little more about our bike trip. And eventually the question of ' where are you staying tonight' came up. We admitted that we didn't know. For the first time on our trip it was after dark and we didn't know where we were sleeping. Evangeline, as we later learned was her name, called the bartender over and said, ' hey, these kids rode their bikes from Seattle. Where should they sleep tonight?' The bartender, whose hair and mustache were gray, but whose speech pattern was like that of a young surfer dude, scrunched his face in thought. Butano State Park was 5 miles that way, or if we went down stage road we'd probably find empty farm land, but there were really no hotels. When I mentioned that Pigeon Point Lighthouse had been our original destination, his face lit up as if he'd forgotten about that option. 'That place is cool!' He said. 'And they have a hot tub!' We told them we hadn't been able to get through so we didn't know if there was vacancy. ' call them one more time' he directed. Lyon did, and he got through. The message: plenty of beds, be here by 10. Evangeline went to consult with her husband at the other end of the bar and came back and said, 'Okay, I want to help.' It turned out they had a gigantic diesel dodge truck parked outside, so she and her husband Jim, an avid mountain biker from Colorado, drove us to the light house in time for us to grab the hot tub key and soak our bodies in the ocean-side jacuzzi before an early bedtime.

Thank you Jim and Evangeline! I'm so glad this morning I got to wake up in a bed instead of on a farm next to someone's cow.

Back on the road

2010-10-12T14:30:00.001-07:00

On our bikes again and it is sunny and hot! Imagine our disbelief when we came across this water oasis. Hoping to make it to pigeon point lighthouse today. Thank you, jesse for getting us on our fet this morning.

Fundraiser Update

2010-10-11T09:52:00.000-07:00

For those who've been wondering, so far we have raised $755.45 for Posada Esperanza and it has been so exciting and satisfying to watch this generous pot grow (wow, now that I'm in California that phrase just sounded wrong, but you know what I mean).

We'll be cycling for another week, down to Big Sur and then back up to Salinas. From there, we'll ship our bikes back to Texas and hop on a train to Los Angeles.

So the phones are still open if you've been meaning to donate. Who knows, we might just meet our goal of $1,000 (that's a dollar for every mile between Seattle and San Francisco!).

Whatever happens, we think this whole thing has been a success, thank you for all your support (be it a donation, an encouraging note, a bed to sleep on or a hug).

Love,
Alice and Lyon

San fran pics

2010-10-11T08:19:00.001-07:00

Being in San Fran

2010-10-11T00:29:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that on our ride Friday into San Fransisco, I was really excited. I smiled outright and waived my hand in the air at first sighting of the Golden Gate Bridge, prompting a confused cyclist coming from the other direction to wave back at me, clearly not wanting to be rude if he indeed knew me.

The ride over the bridge was a bit confusing since we ended up on the side that was closed and had to maneuver our way back through a tunnel that went under the highway and cross some convoluted intersections to get to the other side. But the sun was shining and we didn't have to ride over with traffic, pedaling for our lives or anything dramatic like that. There was a nice section for pedestrians and cyclists and we pulled over every once in a while to look over the bridge at Alcatraz and the city skyline. Lyon was able to point out Coit tower and indicated that our hostel was just on the other side of it. He has stayed there twice, once with his friend Chris on a road trip and once with his brother Sam. Also, it's "fleet week" here in San Fransisco, and these jets were looping around the bay in perfect synchronization, and flying straight up and then doing nose dives and flips and things-which was really incredible.

Our first night we took advantage of the free dinner at the hostel, but really only met one other person among hundreds in the dining hall because all we could do was eat our food and stare at the table. Technically, we shouldn't have been that tired because we'd had a short day-just 25 miles. But it was like the entire month had come crashing down on us and we were beat. Still, we half-heartedly joined in on the pub crawl sponsored by the hostel. I couldn't help but think of the yearly zombie crawl that happens around Halloween in downtown Northampton (and probably other cities too), because I felt like a mindless zombie, unable to really socialize with my peers, only capable of following our hostess around from one block to the next. But it was good to be out for a short while. We watched the Giants lose at a sports bar, and stuck around for a couple of songs from a local rockabilly band, and then headed back to the hostel for our first sleep in a bed in seven nights (not before having two slices of pizza because we are still on a very regimented food schedule which requires ample pigging out).

Since then we have just been getting used to being around large numbers of people again. We put our bikes away yesterday and walked everywhere, but today got them out for getting around town, though we found that we still had to walk quite a bit with all the insane hills. On every block there were kids running down steep hills on the sidewalk yelling and pretending they couldn't stop. We biked to H&M and purchased some essentials. Lyon bought JEANS, which made him feel more normal since all he has are bike shorts and windbreakers (which really don't go with his western-style "normal person" shirt). Tomorrow we are going to mail a few things back to Texas. We're sending our rain pants since we're not expecting rain south of here in the next week, but we're keeping our rain coats because are not stupid. I think we'll lose the tarp too. We bought it in Raymond, WA during a rainy spell and it was really good to us for a while, but now it's just weighing us down.

Today was really good and my legs are starting to feel more normal when I go to stand up after sitting for a long stint. Lyon got to see old friends, Cody and Ross at a restaurant in touristy Fisherman's Warf. Both Cody and Ross work there, and they treated us to some delectable appetizers, entrees, desserts and beer. We sat chatting with my friend Jesse who moved to San Fransisco from Northampton about 8 months ago. He looked tan and happy. He admitted he finally felt settled in after a rough adjustment. It's not easy leaving little Noho!

Then we got to see Rabiha, also from Western Mass, and it felt so good to practice our social skills again catch up. We walked around and grabbed a coffee. I think seeing friends helped make us feel like we are really here.

Tomorrow we tourist it up with a boat ride to Alcatraz!

Pics

2010-10-08T15:54:00.001-07:00

San Fransisco

2010-10-08T15:53:00.000-07:00

Look! We made it! There's a crazy air show going on too, planes doing tricks and twirls over the bay. We are here!

Point Reyes National Seashore

2010-10-07T17:01:00.001-07:00

One more panorama...

2010-10-07T14:24:00.001-07:00

Pics

2010-10-07T14:17:00.001-07:00

1,001

2010-10-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

Today we woke up in Bodega Dunes State Park. We took our time sipping coffee at our sandy campsite, and then actually showering.

It's 1:45 and we've only gone 10 miles. We had to stop and celebrate that we've gone 1,001 miles with burgers and a milkshake!

So that's what's going on currently. We are going 40 miles today, and then getting up tomorrow and riding the 25 miles to San Fransisco.

Yesterday was one of my favorite days. The first part of the day we bought a pint of Ben and Jerry's (chubby hubby if you must know), and put it in our food pannier. It was our reward waiting to be devoured after going another 15 miles. We enjoyed every creamy bite at the top of a hill in Fort Russ park, and we agreed that we could have each eaten our own pint-no problem.

After stopping for ice cream, the roads got narrow, rough and steep. It wound through farmland, over cattle guards, and past a group of firemen performing a controlled burn over the dry, grassy land. Then, for a while we left the cows behind, and the road wound up and up, it would turn a corner and continue to go up, up, up. We were so close to carefully creeping oncoming cars that sometimes, when I noticed a driver craning his or her neck to look incredulously at the crazy cyclists, I would smile at them, just to confuse them more. Yes! I'm enjoying myself, beleive it or not!

It was sunny, but cool, and I felt good (no weird neck, back or knee pains), and the Pacific looked so green, and the roads so winding, I felt like we were in France.

We are thinking of continuing in after San Fransisco.

Fundraiser check-in soon. Cell service is a luxury out here.

Aggg!!!

2010-10-06T15:45:00.000-07:00

Back on the coast

2010-10-04T15:10:00.001-07:00

Lyon here. We are in Fort Bragg celebrating our third week on the road- back on the coast after our journey through the redwoods. The night before last, we camped under the giant trees for the last time. The camp ground had warm showers which, besides having to battle an enormous spider and use up a bunch of quarters, was a welcome experience. They also had a little store where we got supplies (including a six pack of beer which we split.) The next morning the weather was gorgeous - warm and sunny and perfectly still. We were feeling a bit lethargic and a little apprehensive of the climb we were looking at for that day, so we hung out at the store for a while before hitting the road. The climb that day would bring us up Leggett "Hill" (elev. 2000 ft.) -actually the most feared and respected climb on the whole Pacific Coastal Route. The climb itself was actually pretty nice - besides having to negotiate the narrow shoulder and the sheer length of the climb. The traffic was actually mostly courteous and the grade was not too steep. As we flew down the other side, we soon realized we were not in the pleasant, temperate climate that we enjoyed on the other side of the hill. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees and the air was thick with fog. Reaching the bottom, we began to smell the salty air and we knew we had returned to the Pacific Coast. After passing the ghost town of Rockport (literally - there were weeds growing chest high on the fence to the old school house), we were faced with another climb of about 800 feet. This one took us by surprise a bit more- the grade was steeper than the first, and it seemed to just keep on climbing. We were pretty spent and had earlier decided on a short day, so we set up camp in Westport, on the beach. As I brushed my teeth before bed I looked up and saw an amazing array of stars complete with the milky way clearly stretching across the middle of the sky. The sound of the surf lulled us both to sleep for the first time in a while.

Redwood pics

2010-10-04T13:15:00.002-07:00

Avenue of the Giants

2010-10-04T13:15:00.001-07:00

After spending nearly two days riding on the shoulder of a part of 101 that had turned to freeway, I would have taken any alternate route, just for a break from the constant hum of fast-moving traffic, for a break from crossing freeway on and off ramps. It's legal to ride these things, we have ample shoulders, and there are plenty of other cyclists doing it, but it just doesn't feel good.

With such a mythical sounding name like Avenue of the Giants, I was sort of worried that this scenic route would be just as busy as 101, with tourist. But it wasn't. It was a peaceful winding road, lined by towering redwoods that sometimes opened up to fields with organic farms where you could buy fresh fall produce.

This morning we had 15 or 20 more miles on the road, and now we've stopped for a lunch of salami, sourdough bread, Tillamook cheese, an apple and yogurt.

Yesterday we went 60 miles from Arcata to Burlington campsite in Weott, which is right off the road. We felt small pitching our tent and small sitting at our picnic table. All around us loomed trees that were thousands of years old.

Onward. We have a 2,000 foot climb ahead of us.

Coffee in Fortuna

2010-10-01T14:11:00.001-07:00

Trees of Mystery

2010-10-01T09:11:00.001-07:00

Yes, we did that! Gondola through the red woods -totally hokey.

Today we stay at a campsite just past Weott.

Crossing in into California

2010-09-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

The last stretch through Oregon was so foggy, that if there was an ocean next to us, we couldn't tell. We put on our bright jackets, clicked on our lights and pushed on. We rode over the highest bridge in Oregon (Thomas Creek Bridge) and even hiked out on a little trail to the view point to try and see what we'd just crossed. Through the fog we saw a little.

We stopped to eat bagels, salami and cheese on the roadside in Brookings, the last stop in Oregon. And it was funny, when we cruised into Northern California, it really felt different, like we were in California! There was farmland around us, and mountains in the distance and the name of the county we were in was Spanish, "del norte." We passed lots of school buses on the back roads we took into Crescent City, and little kids would hop off and begin their walk down a lane to a farm house. How rural and sweet of them!

As we turned one corner, we saw a cop car pulled over, and someone next to the cop car bending over a bicycle to get something. As we got closer we saw the tell tale wide-brimmed hat. The orange flag labeled, "x-treme" was rolled up, but we knew it was there. We slowed to a stop to wave at the crazy kid we had camped with 5 our 6 days before, and he looked up, happy to see us. "You okay?" We called. "I got robbed", was his response. He assured us he was alright, and we didn't get any of the story at all as he unloaded his bike into the car so the cop with him could give him a ride. Where, I'm not sure. So the next 15 miles for me consisted of inventing what on earth could have happened to him, and whether it could happen to us. Paranoid, cute rural California became hostile-out-to-get-you isolated back roads of California.

But we found a delicious burger joint, and once we hit the 60 mile mark, a campsite fell into or laps. We met a nice cyclist named Paul, and after I decided he wasn't going to murder and rob us, we had a nice time around his campfire sharing stories.

Today we have two large hills ahead and also the red woods to see, so we don't expect to go very far. The avenue of the giants is a couple of days ahead.

Welcome to california!

2010-09-28T17:43:00.001-07:00

Signs from home

2010-09-27T14:43:00.001-07:00

Groceries

2010-09-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

This is what we are eating.

Day O' Rest

2010-09-27T14:11:00.001-07:00

So, shortly after my last post, lyon and I decided to give our bodies a break and not ride at all. We paid for another night in the motel, and have been walking around this little town. We found a great book store, and both bought little paper backs. We have found that we miss reading things with our eyes (we've been listening to audio books only). We also enjoy the sensation of walking. Tomorrow we'll try to put some miles behind us.

We are happy to be taking a break.

Sunset Bay to Cape Blanco Pics

2010-09-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

Cape Blanco

2010-09-27T09:11:00.001-07:00

That same Seven Devils Road day got much better. We stopped for lunch in an adorable town called Bandon and had bad mexican food and then we had good esspresso. I talked to my mom and she said surely we must have gone nearly 500 miles, and I told her I thought we were at like 480 or something. Turned out, when I got back to my bike, we had gone 509. So somewhere on that horrible road, we passed the 500-mile mark. We high-fived each other, and then climbed on our bikes.

The second half of the day took us through relatively flat farm land, a welcome break from the constantly dramatic Oregon coast. We rode past llamas, sheep, cows, through teeny weeny towns (my favorite being Denmark), and the road was fairly quiet. The miles flew by. As we turned onto the small, two lane country road that would take us the five miles into Cape Blanco State Park, Lyon and I pulled up next to each other and rode side by side, something we don't get to do very often. The road was quiet, it was dusk, and as we turned a corner and coasted down a hill past the park's welcome sign, the land opened up and we could see for miles. Then, the farmland and the sixes river, dropped off into the ocean, scenery that looked out of place against fields, fences, horses and a little country home in the distance. The view at the top of the bluff at the end of the cape was the most striking we've seen yet. We made camp and took our time leaving in the morning. We explored the park without our bikes loaded down (such a treat for us) and toured an old pioneer home, misleadingly called the Hughes Home. Once I got over the fact that we were not at some little-know isolated mansion of Howard Hughes' it was pretty cool.

Now, after a difficult ride yesterday, we are in Gold Beach at a motel, recharging. Today we will spend the night at the last campsite before California.

Lyon's dirty leg

2010-09-27T08:38:00.001-07:00

Seven Devils Road

2010-09-25T14:46:00.001-07:00

Just road down seven devils road, which turned to dirt and plunged so far after we climbed so high that we found ourselvs in foggy, forested territory, cold, with a hill ahead and unsure of weather we were on the right road at all. I freaked out a little at the thought of only getting deeper down this road that might not lead anywhere. Lyon saved the day by asking a passing car (one out of 3 that passed us the entire 13 miles) where the heck this road went. When the guys in the car informed us that paved road and a downhill was ahead and that it would indeed lead to route 30, we sighed releived and continued pushing our bikes by foot in better spirits but still cursing all seven devils.

We made it 57 miles yesterday to sunset bay state park where, yes, we did watch the sun set. It was beautiful. There was a bride there getting here picture taken. We almost stopped in North Bend last night after meeting a nice man named Buck, who offered to let us stay at his house. He, as he put it, had a soft spot for anyone on two wheels. We would have taken him up on his offer had it not ben such a pretty day, and had our mission for the day not been pulling us both to keep moving. This feeling of needing to put miles behind us is something we both feel. We are not behind. If anything, we are ahead of schedule, but there's an urgency to keep moving and meet or goal for the day, which is why it kills us when we can't. Today we've gone 25, and we've gotten past all of our big hills for the day, so we are hoping to make the 25 to cape blanco. In the morning we'll tour the Hughs home.

Maybe we will go further than 18 miles today

2010-09-24T07:32:00.001-07:00

So yesterday was miserable until we made the decision not to try and go further. Ithink we had so much fun riding in the sun the day before that we were extra devastated by the cold, the wind and the rain. We also met some strange people at our campsite including a man traveling by large tricycle with his dog. He had a big white beard and a large belly that stuck out of his half ripped shirt. He had his propane stove running INSIDE his tent to dry out his jacket and the second thing he asked us was did we have any pot. He also talked to us the entire time we were setting up or tent, ruining any plans we had to go watch the sun set. He also claimed to have a world record for riding to Alaska on his lawn mower. Later this wacky kid showed up and he was riding without a helmet, just a wide brimmed hat. He did have an orange flag sticking up at the back of his bike, which was good. He said he noticed people looking at him funny so he taped"X-TREME" with black electrical tape to the flag. Just in case that wasn't clear I guess.

We did stop at a nice homey place in florence where lyon ordered a burger and I ordered german sausage with hashbrowns and eggs over medium. The waitress/owner told us to stay as long as we liked to get warm and she even say down to chat and ask us questions. We told get about our lovely day the day before when we saw a whale, and climbed Cape Foulweather and Cape Perpetua. She said her "love," as she called him, who had since passed away, used to be a ranger at Cape Perpetua and one of the last things he did was hike up and down the cape with her and his sister at his side, knowing how sick he was.
Three days later he died, but everyone felt so relieved that he'd gotten to take that hike one last time because it was what he wanted.

Today's weather is supposed to be better. It's 7am and my phone is is actually getting service from this campsite, so once I post, I'll wake lyon and we'll go. Right now we are in jesse m honeyman state park and we'd like to get 54 miles today. We'll be riding through the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area.

Love you all

Lyon's dirty hands

2010-09-23T15:56:00.001-07:00

Beautiful ride yesterday... not so nice today

2010-09-23T15:25:00.001-07:00

Lyon here - Yesterday we rode from Lincoln city to the carl g washburn state park, 65 miles altogether. Even though we were really tired, the last part was amazing. South of Yachats, rt. 101 traces the contour of the uninhabited coastline through a long stretch of rocky capes, sandy beaches and steeply dropping creeks. We saw waterfalls and sea birds like gulls and pelicans. (The other day we saw a blue heron). But today, so far, has been cold and rainy. I was pretty miserable when we came to this little diner outside Florence. But, now after having a hamburger and some apple pie, I feel way better. We'll let you know how far we get today...

WAldport. 15 more miles to our campsite.

2010-09-22T16:13:00.001-07:00

Almost to Newport

2010-09-22T11:28:00.001-07:00

Ode to Lyon

2010-09-22T07:43:00.001-07:00

This post is a long time coming. I want to put in writing how incredible lyon has been. For those of us who teased him about lack of preparation because of all the weeks this summer spent sitting in a van touring the south and the east coast, well, we can just eat our words. Lyon is strong and fast, and having way too much fun bombing down large hills. His top speed according to his bike computer is 37 (mine is 35). While i keep a slow steady, comfortable pace climbing hills, he usually passes me with a sprightly pedal. I think he used his inhaler the first day, but has not since.

Besides having taken to this whole cycling -with-40 pounds-strapped-to-your-bike thing, he is also an amazing partner to have on this trip. He waits for me if I've gone out of sight behind him, but prefers to give me a head start so that he can see me. I am so thankful for this. It makes me feel safe and keeps me from feeling like a drag on the day's mission (I'm not that slow, but I would feel slower if I were always trying to catch up). And we have developed hand signals so as not to slow each other down. One wave over the head with the right hand means keep going, I'm fine. Frantic downward waves with the left hand mean stop and wait for me.

We are learning. We have not, however, learned that if we both lean in at the same time to look at a map our helmets will knock against each other. We keep doing that.

Woke up this morning thinking we had slept through the alarm.lyon informed me it was 3am. It's 7:30 now and we hope to be out the door by 8. Going to try for a 60-mile day today.

Love to everyone. Thanks for commenting, it helps.

From Lincoln City,OR

2010-09-21T20:58:00.001-07:00

Hello to everyone who keeps up with this blog. I have been thinking of you and writing to you in my head for days (there isn't much else to do on my bike for hours at a time), but between rain and lack of outlets, I haven't been able to post.

Today was or first full day without rain in 5 or 6 days and it was heavenly! Despite the two gigantic hills we had to climb today (the largest and steepest we've had to tackle so far), we felt good because we were dry. We even sat on the beach for a while and took it slow. I realize though, that every time I write I'm sitting in a dry, warm place whether it's a diner, a motel or hostel. Often, nothing I did earlier in the day seems like it was really all that difficult. But we have our highs and our lows. Mine tend to be fickle and severe while Lyon's, in keeping with his personality, tend to be less frequent and more even tempered.

My mental state is directly related to my physical state and surroundings. If I'm dry and I have a nice wide shoulder with plenty of distance between myself and traffic, if it's the beginning of the day and I'm still fresh, if I have food in my stomach, then I can look around and think about where I am and appreciate the tall pines, the open farm land, the many national wildlife refuges we've passed through, the low, foggy clouds being shredded above us by mountain tops.

All it takes for me to want to swing my leg over my bike and sit on the side of the road until my dad comes to get me is one mean person, or total exhaustion, or really wet feet. Most people have been nice to us, and curious about where we've come from and where our final destination is, but we have had people yell at us, and plenty of trucks have refused to give us room, even on rainy days when we are riding on roads with hardly a shoulder. Sometimes there is nothing to do but get sprayed in the face with dirty semi truck mud and hope you don't fall.

The tunnels we have gone under haven't been as scary as people say they are, but when you pass under them each car echoes so loud it sounds like you're being chased by a tidal wave, which is a little rattling. A couple of days ago after going through one of these, we came out to daylight to find a long hill ahead off us, I pulled over to rest and almost fell because I couldnt get my foot out of my clips. I tried them a couple times to make sure they were okay, and every time had trouble. After panicking and trying again and again, I found that if I twisted my leg really hard I could get out if I had to, so we kept going-there was nothing else to do (plus lyon said I had to). The next morning when I tried clipping out again, it was easy. I had been so tired the day before everything felt more difficult. There is that "good tired" too though. I always sleep well, even camping, and arriving tired and cold anywhere that sells soup is a great feeling.

We split with our biking friends in Cape Nehalam where we experienced or first hiker/biker camp site in Oregon, where they do it right. For $5 a person we set up our tent in a wooded, mossy area that looked like it might also be home to fairies. That night I took a free hot shower in clean facilities with sky lights. Then we drank wine to stay warm from the leftover bottle Lyon had carried on his bike for 40 miles! We visited with a couple who swore by always riding with some form of alcohol on your bike, they were spiking their hot chocolate with whisky from their flask! This couple was coming from Anchorage, Alaska and was headed to Mexico so I guess they knew what they were talking about.

Yesterday we stayed in Cape Lookout, and tonight we are in a motel in lincoln city. We hope to leave early and get far tomorrow.

Posada Fundraiser Check-in

2010-09-21T19:45:00.001-07:00

Hi everyone! I have my bike computer in hand and it says we've gone a total of 344 miles. I just checked our Paypal account and we have certainly raised a dollar for every mile we have put behind us, the sweet downhill ones and the painstaking uphill ones.

In fact, we don't have to check in on the fundraiser for a little while. The grand total raised so far for Posada Esperanza is $509.35! And we have another $100 pledged. Thank you everyone for getting us over 500 miles! We will check back in once we've gotten that far.

Love to all.

CHEESE!

2010-09-20T15:08:00.001-07:00

Having cheese & cauliflower soup at the Tillamook cheese factory! It is still rainy here so warm soup is all we crave these days. More soon. Off to tour cheese land.

Still in Astoria

2010-09-19T11:36:00.001-07:00

11:30 and still not on the road. This has be en a theme on the trip. Its so hard to get moving. Or feet are in baggies again today, but its not raining yet. Fingers crossed.

Made it to Oregon-pics

2010-09-19T08:49:00.000-07:00

Made it to Oregon!

2010-09-19T08:44:00.001-07:00

This morning I put on a clean sweatshirt! Nothing ever smelled or felt so good. I haven't really been able to write because of rain and camping situations. But today we crossed the infamous Astoria bridge, which is 4.5 miles long and climbs 400 feet before descending. Crossing that bridge was like getting on a roller coaster, buckling up, and then changing your mind. But it would be more dangerous to climb off right before the start if the ride so you just look straight ahead and hold on. By the end of the bridge my elbows hurt from gripping my handlebars so hard. But we got through it, and the rain wasn't too heavy and there were large breaks in traffic.

I know I need to catch the blog up on the past couple if days, but the short version is that a couple days ago we ran into the lovely, Martha, and have been traveling with her. Yesterday evening, we ran into Chris and Davis, so we all split a hotel room here in Astoria (pronounced "asstoria," I'm not being fresh, that really is how the locals say it). So last night we had some beers, did laundry, and soaked our tired bodies in the hot tub. What a luxury! I think we may see if we can all stay on the same path and meet back up this evening. Chris is traveling super light (no panniers at all!) and Davis has toured on his bicycle in over 35 countries. Do I'm sure they're faster than us, but we'll see how today goes.

More later. I need to check in on the fundraiser. I think we've gone close to 300 miles so I have to make sure we are meeting or dollar a mile goal! I will let you know soon.

Lyon climbing

2010-09-17T08:13:00.001-07:00

He got the shake!

2010-09-16T13:54:00.000-07:00

Artic,WA

2010-09-16T13:51:00.001-07:00

20 miles of riding in the rain behind us and only 16 more to go today. Our feet are in baggies. Stopped at Clarks Restaurant for cheese burgers, deep fried mac & cheese bites, fries and chillie. This place appeared out of nowhere- sent from God! The waiters are joking with Lyon, trying to get him to order a milkshake. Sleeping in Raymond tonight.

Olympia to Elma Pics

2010-09-15T21:40:00.001-07:00

A couple pictures from Olympia, Lyon and I with Robert all nice and dry before heading out to face the elements, and Lyon looking like one looks after a long, cold ride in the rain.

One Rainy Ride

2010-09-15T20:41:00.000-07:00

Hi, Lyon here. Alice and I have been so lucky with the weather the last couple days. As you can see from the photos in Belfair, it was quite sunny. But today, we got hit with some rain. Most of our 30 mile ride was on a freeway so a lot of water was being kicked up by the passing vehicles. So we were drenched by the time we arrived at the guest house in Elma. The host, Jay, is taking really good care of us - washing and drying our wet clothes, setting up a space heater for our shoes and gloves, he even gave me an extra hotdog with ketchup and mustard. Alice and I have our own room and we're out of the rain, thankfully. I am so glad we have real shelter tonight. I can't imagine camping in a downpuour like this. But believe it or not, I had fun riding in the rain today. I enjoyed the mission aspect - having one destination and so many miles between you and it, and whatever comes your way, you deal with it as best you can. We'll see what happens tomorrow, we might meet up with another bike traveler and go to Montessano, but if we feel up to it we'll keep on going- we could even make it to the coast tomorrow.

Cyclists or Normal People?

2010-09-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

P.S. I just called the hostel in Elma to make sure there was space and the guy on the phone asked if we were cyclists or normal people. I said cyclists and asked how on earth he knew that. He said most of his guests this time of year were cyclists.

We have seen quite a few cyclists loaded down like us and we always wave. And sometimes, when I'm coasting down a long hill and I see a cyclist slowly climbing up it on the other side I want to call out "you can do it!" and I get a little teary-eyed. But I don't. I don't want to embarass Lyon.

Olympia pics

2010-09-15T13:33:00.001-07:00

Lyon buys a ukulele!

Leaving Olympia-Off to Elma

2010-09-15T13:13:00.001-07:00

Our ride to Shelton (30 miles) was fairly easy, but we were certainly pooped by the time we settled into a little deli and began to chow down on our hot rueben sandwhiches. I called my parents to check in and told them we'd me staying there for the night. Then we met Chris, a cyclist who came into the deli. He asked us where we were going and we got to talking. He and a friend are riding from Canada to Mexico to promote their organization called, "Take Your Bike" (the name of the organization is the answer to the question, "Going somewhere?"). We bought a couple of wrist bands from them, and gave them our Coasting card so they could check in on us. Their website is www. takeyourbike.org - check it out!

So basically, after we heard that they'd left Seattle that day and were planning on being in Olympia that afternoon, we decided to push on ourselves. Who knew I had 30 more miles in me?
We got into Olympia yesterday evening at exactly 7pm. Robert (my dad's cousing) and his wife Linda welcomed us with open arms, a hot shower, pub food at the Fish Tail in downtown, and much more.

Right now Lyon and Linda are wrapping up our new tenor Ukulele that we bought an hour ago. The first layer is just plastic, and then they're stuffing it in a garbage bag. The owner of Capital City Guitars downtown asked Lyon "is it a love connection??" and Lyon had to reply that, yes, it was a love connection, before the guy would sell it to him. It's small and light and we'll strap it to the back of our load.

This morning we woke up achy, but after moving around I feel alright. Linda made us very strong coffee which was a blessing after the horribly weak coffee served at the hostel in Seattle. And Robert made a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs with veggies and potatoes on the side. We have basically been eating machines for the last 3 days. It's fun being starving before every meal I eat. We're only planning to ride 30 miles today, and we're hoping to be on the road by 2pm (that's 45 mins from now). It's supposed to rain today, so we're going to get to it! I think we'll stay in a hostel in Elma.

We're being sent off with a nice bag of peanuts (still in their shells!) two peaches, oh- and clean clothes! Thank you!!!

Off we go. It's starting to sprinkle.

Olympia!

2010-09-14T19:24:00.001-07:00

Guess who made it to olympia!!! Rode almost 60 miles today. I feel light-headed. I had to eat some emergency 'gue' a half hour ago, but now we are taking showers and going out to dinner. More later.

Love to everyone

More Seattle to Belfair pics

2010-09-14T15:54:00.000-07:00

Pictures-Seattle to Belfair

2010-09-14T15:36:00.001-07:00

Arrival in Belfair

2010-09-14T15:11:00.001-07:00

Currently in Shelton, WA-day two. It's 3pm and we rode 30 miles today. We may stop here, or we may try to gt a little closer to Olympia where my dad's cousin lives.

Here is yesterday's entry. Pictures to follow. We are doing alright!

Rode 30 miles today. 11 of those were in Seattle itself, just taking it in. From Bremerton to Belfair were 20 miles. It took us about 3 hours. After or 8am ride around lake washington with ariel this morning (which was beautiful), we packed up and put our bikes on the ferry to Bremerton. Seattle looked pretty floating away from us against a dramatic, dark sky. The ferry was easy, and bikes get to be first in line getting off, ahead of all the cars. Bremerton itself was stupid. We went all sorts of creative ways to avoid busy roads but just ended up on impossible hills on not-so-friendly roads. To Ariel, or anyone else doing this route, just stick to the water, close to hwy 303 without getting on it. Once on old belfair hwy however, riding is easy, and mostly down hill. Same with route 300. The park is beautiful-right along a lake, and our campsite has a nice view of it. It is so sunny we are hot! It feels so good because so far this state has been mostly chilly.

tomorrow we ride!

2010-09-12T21:04:00.000-07:00

at the hostel. lyon and ariel are fiddling with their bikes. i just got my bike computer set up and lyon's putting his fenders on. ariel is talking with her mom who's in mass about what she needs shipped to her (the shift key doesn't work on this computer and neither does the caps lock). my bike computer will tell me how fast i'm going, what my average speed is, how far i've gone total, and i can set the trip mode when i want to keep track of how far i've gone in a given day. i got it for $13 from academy.

tomorrow our plan is to get up at 7 and go for one last ride in seattle. there's this route that we still haven't made it to along lake washington that's supposed to be beautiful. we're planning on meeting ariel at 8am on the other side of town and riding together. then we come back to the hostel, load up our things and head to the ferry which is only a few blocks away. an hour-long, $8 ferry will take us to bremerton, wa across the puget sound. the ferry leaves at 10am. then from there it's about a 20 mile ride to belfair state park. we are going to take it easy our first day riding fully loaded down.

the next day we ride to shelton, or all the way to olympia, depending on how we're doing. in olympia we're staying with my dad's cousin robert who has been encouraging and generous. when i called yesterday to say we were staying in seattle another day because we liked it so much, he said, "we'll be here, don't worry about us, whenever you arrive is fine, stay and rest a couple days."

so far i am very happy meeting new people, being in a new place and riding my bike. i feel comfortable with my clip-in pedals after riding around the city with them.

love to everyone. thanks for commenting and letting us know you're there. i promise to make lyon write an entry now and again.

Arrival in Seattle

2010-09-11T20:15:00.000-07:00

Okay, hi. Now I'm writing in real time (except, I'm still going to write about yesterday some).

On the shuttle to baggage claim, a middle-aged woman sitting across from us asked if our bikes were on board. We said yes, that we would be picking them up at baggage claim and then putting them back together. It's pretty obvious from our appearances what we're doing since our bags look funny, we're carrying helmets, and I'm sporting a neon (and I mean neon) bicycle wind-breaker (oh, and bike shorts-I'm wearing bike shorts). She looked excited for us and said she knew someone who had ridden across the country. She was sweet-looking, had a rolling bag at her side and was wearing a long skirt, sandals, her hair was swept up in a bun-very motherly.

Getting off the shuttle we parted ways with her, but she came back to us a minute later and asked where we were staying and if she could provide a bed for us. We told her about our hostel that we'd already made reservations for, and she said, "yes, that's right down town, you should stay there, you'll enjoy that." She wished us luck and walked away towards the light rail station. She'd mentioned that her husband thought she should use the time to figure it out (it was only built in 2009). I told her we would also be figuring it out later that afternoon.
Before we knew it she'd walked back to us with her cell phone open- "Do you know anyone in Seattle? Do you have some kind of contact here?" We told her that our friend was meeting us soon at the airport, and she decided we would be fine. She waived again and was off.

I couldn't help but think of my Aunt Sally who, when we were visiting her in Kentucky, told us about how a young woman, recently graduated from college, had come into the downtown library where she worked. Sally recognized her from the news weeks before where she was interviewed about what she was going to be doing after graduation. Her answer: walking across the country. So Sally took her home that evening and gave her a comfy bed and dinner, and then saw her off the next day by walking some with her.

I know there are people out there who don't like cyclists, or people who wear the same clothes every day, and we'll come across them. But we just set foot off the plane, and not 5 minutes later a woman offered to open up her home to us!

So I mentioned above that we would have a friend meeting us at the airport. What I didn't have time to post to the blog last week was that Ariel, the girl who sold us our bicycles at Hampshire Bike Exchange in Amherst, is in Seattle! She called a couple of times last week to check in on us, and even offered to meet us at the airport and help us build our bikes back up. After we found our bikes and dragged them (and our panniers -we looked ridiculous) to a quite, out-of-the-way place in the airport), we started putting things together. It was much easier than I thought it would be. We ate the last of our peanut butter and honey sandwiches before diving in (thanks mom), and then we did it. They were mostly finished by the time Ariel arrived, but it was comforting to have her check that they looked safe and normal.

Two security guards meandered up and smiled and asked where we were riding too "Seattle!" I said, tired and out of sorts. "Well that's not very far!" "I mean San Fransisco!" I corrected myself. I don't know where I am any more, and when people ask Lyon and I where we are from there's always a hesitation. "Umm...he's from Massachusetts, she's from Texas, and two weeks ago we lived in Massachusetts but as of last week we live in Texas and right now we're doing this. It confuses people.

On the futuristic Seattle light rail from the airport to the West Lake stop down town, we ran into a very tall man in a winter hat boarded and when he saw our loaded touring bikes his face lit up! (Oh yeah, it's cooold here! I already bought a sweatshirt. I tried not to bring one because of extra weight, but it's like 50 out!) After telling him what we were doing he said he'd done the same trek a handful of times. He told us it would be hard the first 4 or 5 days, but then we'd just keep getting increasingly stronger and would start to feel better and better. He told us we were going at the perfect time of year- with the tailwinds at our backs and and the rainy season not quite here yet. He told us he was addicted to bicycle touring and does at least a month-long trip every year. His energy and confidence invaded me and filled my head! This is going to be easy! (I've since come back to reality and realize that it will be difficult, but I'm still pretty pumped from his enthusiasm for us).

Ariel road with us to our hostel which is 3 blocks from the light rail stop, and 3 blocks from the aquarium and 1 block from the famous fish market. Our hostel (Green Tortoise) is awesome, and we're pretty sure we're going to stay an extra night. You get free breakfast that you make yourself-eggs, toast, pancakes, fruit. We ran into 2 guys last night riding from Canada to Mexico on their bicycles. They only had until Oct 15th to get to Mexico! That's when we are supposed to be in San Fransisco! Either we are slow or they are insane. Probably both.

After we got settled last night, we road to Ariel's friends house where she's staying. They're all sort of "organic punk" types, which was cool (there were doll faces and limbs glued to the walls and very strict directions for how to wash dishes efficiently and which compost bucket to put which type of food waste in). We ate bread, cheese and strawberries while we made warm lentils and cous cous. We were cold and hungry so it was wonderful!

Then around midnight we road back through Seattle from the university area to our hostel. This city is so pretty and clean and bike-friendly. I can't get over it.

Today (Saturday) we went to the aquarium. My favorite part was watching the octopus get fed. It was awesome.

Then we ate sushi, then we took a long nap.

On the "free shelf" at the hostel, guess what we found...a little tank of butane for our cooking stove! Someone probably had to fly somewhere and couldn't bring it with them.

Getting Here

2010-09-11T19:13:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how I want to blog from now on. Sometimes I'm tempted to take pictures of things and post them to the blog with small comments. But if I did that with everything blog-worthy I'd be on my "smart" (I like to call it "stupid") phone this entire trip. But on the other hand, if I leave the blogging to longer posts and save them up, I'll get behind, not to mention it takes a long time to type on the little gadget. I'll figure it out. For now, I'm at a swanky Mac at our hostel, and I'm going to post some things I wrote in my notebook.

Sept 10th Flight

We just passed over the Grand Canyon. It looks gigantic even from thousands of feet in the air. We can't see the bottom, just the place where the forest ends and drops off. The land looks so dry and ancient, but swirly like the top of a marble cake. Five flight minutes (and hundreds of miles later), out of vast nothingness come squares of perfectly placed grids of human life-Las Vegas.

Getting the bikes broken down last night was more involved than we were hoping it would be. We were hoping to only have to take apart the headset, the front wheel, and the pedals. But in order to squeeze them into the bike boxes we picked up at a local bike shop, we had to take the back wheels off too, and fenders and things. We also shoved our tent, cookware and other suspicious knives and ropes and things into our bike boxes since we knew we would be able to check them.

We had to leave our little butane/propane tank behind for our stove.

Our flight left at 8am I said bye to my mom while my dad stayed to make sure we didn't have trouble with our strange packages (what a gift to have my dad around again). My mom hugged me and said, "You know everything I'm thinking." And I did of course, she loves me, be careful, use the skidding skills you read about in your bicycle safety book if you're faced with either a collision or a cliff - the usual. Then she went over to Lyon with outstretched arms and said, "Okay! Pretend I'm your mother for a second, YOU BE CAREFUL!" So, don't worry Vaunie, he's been told. (Also to Vaunie, I brought my neck-warmer/hat/ear-warmer that you knit me!).

Luckily, at the Alaska Airlines desk in Austin, we got an attendant who had to "research" what to do with our bikes. She only ended up charging us 50 dollars each! We were expecting way more, especially after doing our own research online since they were both oversized and overweight. It should have been like $100 each. Hurray!

Lyon and I had to sit in different places on the plane, but a nice woman sitting next to him said she wouldn't mind if I came and sat between them, so Lyon came and got me. We plugged our earphones into Lyon's ipod and finished listening to the crazy Jack Bauer-esc story that we had started on the road trip down. It was good for some laughs because it was so ridiculous. For example, the bad guys are pondering whether our protagonist (the Gray Man) is dead. They're pretty confident their kill squads from Kazakhstan have eliminated him. But! They get a phone call, and when they answer it's him: "I'm heavily armed, I'm royally pissed and I'm right outside." Baaa hahah! So you can imagine the rest.

Made it to the airport!

2010-09-10T17:34:00.001-07:00

We got the bikes assembled. Ariel is with us. We r about to train/bike to the hostel. Feeling good.

Airport!

2010-09-10T04:59:00.001-07:00

Hopefully they let us on!

Lyons bike

2010-09-09T12:16:00.001-07:00

Bike Boxes

2010-09-08T14:58:00.001-07:00

After running around this city like a couple of crazies doing everything from notarizing a letter so I could cancel my gym membership in Mass, to mailing things out for tax and health insurance purposes, we are finally going back to the house to do more bike-fiddling. And here are the boxes we'll be packing our bikes into tomorrow.

Tomorrow is also lyon's birthday.

Packing

2010-09-07T22:56:00.000-07:00

In Austin of course. We have mostly been running errands. One of my errands was to buy a smart phone. So here I am practicing typing on it so that I can blog from the road.

This evening we grabbed a coffee at good ol' Flight Path and read our bicycle safety book together. It's dorky, but we read about the safest ways to make turns, where to ride, etc. Its just good to be on the same page about that sort of thing.

Anyhow, tonight we are laying out everything we have and assessing how we will carry it. Here are some pics.

We miss everyone. But last night my parents had a get-together and it was so good to see family and friends on my end. At the party Lyon's parents had for us I got to meet his 3rd grade teacher, so last night I was excited when my 1st grade teacher showed up and I got to introduce them.

Jack Bauer and Crossing into Texas!

2010-09-03T07:06:00.000-07:00

Written: Sept 2nd 12:59am

So we are in a Motel 6 in the one and only "Texarkana." That's right, this city straddles both Texas and Arkansas. We didn't leave Kentucky until noon today, but we just kept on driving. We downloaded this ridiculous book onto Lyon's ipod called "The Gray Man." I just thought it would be funny because of the whole "Gray" thing. After listening to it for 12 minutes we almost shut it off because there was so much bloody shooting and gratuitous blowing up of American soldiers and then revenge snipering of Al-Queda. But it was all we had besides Radio Lab and music and we had hundreds of miles ahead of us, so we just made ourselves keep listening.

It got better. "The Gray Man," aka, Court Gentry, is this ex-CIA agent who was running SWAT teams when he was 16 and had been traveling the world, working for this private security company for the last few years. He's called The Gray Man because he is fleeting and ghost-like (much like myself). It turned out that during one of his missions he had killed the brother of the Nigerian president, and this meant people were after him! So, in the end, this story got us all the way to Texas! Sometimes we took breaks from the action-packed book-on-ipod, but after a while one of us would suggest, "should we see how Jack Bauer's doing?" Or, "Let's check in on MacGyver."

Honestly, our arrival in my home state was the most anti-climactic border-crossing I've ever experienced. Maybe just the most anti-climactic experience of my life. I didn't even know we'd gotten to Texas until we'd checked into our room here at this shady Motel 6 and I went to the bathroom. On the back of the bathroom door was a little sign that said, "Welcome to Texas" and then proceeded to explain to me that the motel was not responsible for my valuables. So it was that on the toilet in a Motel 6, I crossed into Texas.

We brought our bikes in. I don't trust any of the men lingering around outside smoking and chatting. At check in there was a "night door" that we had to yell through over the sound of the extremely loud humming of the ice-machine. Somehow, though, Lyon managed to have his first friendly Texas encounter. While a line formed behind him of 3 or 4 men twice his width and 4 or 5 heads taller than him, I stood just outside to get out of the cold air-conditioning and overheard the snippets of his conversation with the talkative (but not so talkative-looking) man behind the counter. Before I knew it he was talking about his country band and agreeing with the man that, "yeah, everyone around me is getting old, getting married and having kids. Yup, I'm moving to Austin, and oh I play guitar mostly and sing some..." What was going on in there? I was afraid one of the large men behind him might get fed up with waiting and decide to physically remove Lyon from the line while his credit card was being run. Motel 6 guy was safely behind the "night glass" but Lyon was out in the open. It turned out they had the same birthday, or so Lyon had gathered over the ice machine that sounded like a jet engine.

As we pulled into our parking spot we remarked with a sparkle to ourselves, "Oh how nice, the police are here." And we felt much safer for a second. Then we thought, "actually, maybe it's not so great that the police are here interviewing people. Yeah, that's not good."

But here we are, watching T.V for the first time in weeks, ready for a good night's rest so that we can make it to Austin at a decent hour tomorrow. I am loopy.

Quitter to Winner

2010-09-03T06:46:00.000-07:00

Check out this fun and inspiring blog, Quitter to Winner (www.quittertowinner.blogspot.com), about people who quit their jobs and go off to do crazy things. Employers, keep it from your employees! Employees, have fun browsing!

You can read an interview with Lyon and me from a few days ago here.

Road Trip to Austin

2010-09-03T06:35:00.000-07:00

Written: Sept 1st

You may have noticed that none of our entries lately have been about the bicycle trip. But these days, the closest we come to preparing to ride 1,000 miles on two wheels is checking, each time we get out for gas or water, that our bikes are still secure on the back of the car (for accompanying paranoia, see Tradgedy). That and reading through our book: "Bicycling the Pacific Coast." It will be nice, once we get to the coast, to simply stay on one road almost the entire time. Surely this will keep us from ever getting too lost, right? Routes 101 and 1 (which are basically the same) will take us all the way to San Fransisco with a few side trips here and there.

So far we have penciled in trips to two different cheese factories in Oregon and California! I will be paying special attention to see if I want my next career move to involve cheese (that's a likely yes).

We also made some last-minute decisions last week. Instead of taking a Greyhound back to Austin From Los Angeles, we're going to fly. It turns out bikes have to be packaged up in the same way for buses as they do for planes. And since we were thinking of taking a bus from San Fran to Los Angeles and from Los Angeles to Austin, we decided to just package them up once in San Francisco and ship them home via UPS (no other mail carrier will do! Don't you worry uncle Frank!). That will make things easier, and flying home will save a few days. We are also not going to visit Portland. It's a trip inland, away from the coast we don't want to make. That will allow us to take our time riding, and give us more time with Hina in L.A.

On a related note, I want to say thank you to those of you who have donated to our fundraiser for Posada Esperanza so far. Raising money for this organization has given our trip a purpose and motivation outside of personal exploration. There are a lot more dollars per mile to raise, so if you haven't already, consider parting with a few bucks for Posada. You won't regret it! Thanks to everyone who has talked about the fundraiser or written to friends about it. Hopes of meeting our dollar-a-mile goal are high.

For now, I'm in the car with my arms sticking out from under a map. I'm using it more for protection from the hot sun than I am for navigation (seeing as its a Pennsylvania/NewJersey map and we're in Tennessee). Today we left my Aunt Sally's house in Lexington, Kentucky. My eyes watered a little when I sat on the antique divan that was always in my grandparents' home growing up. Their pictures were on the walls and now and again Aunt Sally would grace me with little memories of them. It's so nice to hear stories and memories from someone other than my father, just to have a different voice and perspective. One of the things Sally told me was that she still gets anxious being on the phone for too long. As a child she was always told to keep it short since an emergency call might be coming through for my grandfather, who was a surgeon.

Before that, we were at a campsite in Virginia, and before that, we stayed with Lyon's great aunt and uncle, Sophie and Eddie. They were so sweet and doting, and hilarious! In the car on the way from dinner, Sophie, whose license plate reads "SD BLOND" told us about a group Eddie's a part of called the ROMEO's: Retired Old Men Eat Out. I needn't say much more.

Now on to Arkansas. I'll post this tonight and include pictres.

Love to everyone in back of us and in front of us.

I Heart Honky Tonk

2010-08-28T07:09:00.000-07:00

Friday turned out to be beautiful, breaking the gloomy cloud-filled, rain-misted weekend that made Lyon and I wish we knew where we'd packed all our sweatshirts. Lyon's parents threw us a wonderful going away party Tuesday, and while the rain held off, it felt like a cool fall evening.

But by Friday, the sun came out and warmed our faces and our laundry.

That day, once our laundry was dry enough to pack in a bag, we drove out from West Stockbridge, MA where we've been staying with Lyon's parents, to Brattleboro, VT. There, we met up with the members that make up the honky tonk band, J.P. Harris and the Tough Choices; The lead singer J.P. Harris aka: "Squash," Ben the bread-baker drummer, Asa the Canadian pedal steel player, and Noah the lanky, mullet-rocking, bass player. And then of course, there's Lyon the boyfriend guitar player.

First thing, Asa decided that I should be called "Lyoness" (I took my own liberty with the spelling there) and we decided that being the Lyoness was pretty cool since, as the female Lyon, I surely did all the hunting. I couldn't help but picture a svelte, compact lioness racing over the African plains towards a startled zebra. That's me!

Once we got in what must be a 15-seater van, Squashed hopped in the front seat and we peeled out of there. He handles that van like it's a tiny sports car, and even, at one point, parallel parked it in downtown Brattleboro, pumping himself up before doing so, "I'm gonna parallel park the $%*& out of that parking space!" And he did.

Driving along, listening to the internal band banter and sometimes getting their jokes sometimes not, I pictured Lyon driving away for one of his long tours, and me at home watching X-Files with Kelly. It made me excited for Lyon, happy he'd chosen a lifestyle that allowed him to take off like that for weeks at a time and just play music. I am enjoying not having a job more than I ever thought I would. I liked my work, and I liked knowing that twice a month money would magically appear in my bank account. But I haven't worried about money at all yet, and I love the feeling of not knowing.

Their first gig was in New York State at the Philmont Pub. It was a small bar on main street in Philmont, frequented by the locals. As the money-taker at the door, I had to keep track of which locals walked out just to go down the street to grab a sweatshirt, so that when they came back I didn't pounce on them (like the svelte Lyoness that I am) for their $5.

At the bar, Squash introduced me to the owner as their new "roadie" which is admittedly more fun than just "the guitar player's girlfriend." He joked that having a roadie was a new criterion of the band. Claire, a friend of Squash's was their last "roadie," and is way more badass than myself (shaved head, lots of long bicycle tours behind her, etc). It turned out she forgot her license at home though and so was without it for their entire month-long tour this summer. So I joked that another criterion for the band must be that the roadie leave her license behind. Because yes, I did that. After losing my phone for a week, then after finally finding my phone, not being able to find my charger, but then finally finding it all, I left my little black purse with all the things I was proud as a human being to be finally keeping track of (phone, keys, wallet) in the car back in Brattleboro.

Oh well! The music was great! Ben was a lively drummer and it made me smile to see him playing straight up honky tonk since, as ipod D.J. of the band, he'd graced our ears with everything from Big Boi to Doo-Wop to the Raconteurs. Squash is a natural performer, singing hard into the mic with a deep, smoky but agile voice, and joking with the audience in between songs. At first, the owner, Elizabeth, who was dancing around whenever she had the chance, would yell with encouragement after learning a song they had played was a Squash original. But after a while, she stopped because he kept prefacing his songs with, "this is one I wrote," and the audience realized that they were listening to an original Honky Tonk band-which I think is rare. They only played a handful of covers.

It was great to finally get to see them play, and sort of weird that last night was the first time.

Off to Lancaster, PA today.

Alice

Fundraiser for Posada Esperanza

2010-08-24T09:17:00.000-07:00

As we draw closer to the end of our time here in New England, closer to our short visit to the South and closer yet, to the beginning of our trip down the West Coast, I want to announce that through our bike ride from Seattle to San Fransisco, we hope to raise money for an Austin-based shelter for immigrant women and their children.

Having grown up in Texas, where the every-day struggle of immigrants is apparent, I've always admired Posada Esperanza, for the work they do in not only providing a safe place for families, but also tools for surviving and hopefully flourishing in the Austin area.

At Posada Esperanza, women can work on their English, and have access to free child care as well as workshops on topics like nutrition, safety and managing finances. The women have support from staff and are even able to join a network of past residents of Posada. You can find out more here, http://www.casamarianella.org/posada-facility.asp.

Lyon and I hope that our ride will inspire some or all of you to donate a little bit here and there to this organization that strives to give women and their children a fresh, stable start in their new community.

Our meager goal is to raise a dollar for every mile we put behind us, which is about 1,000. I think we can raise more.

To contribute, click on the "Donate" button. 100% of the proceeds will go to Posada.

Thank you,

Alice and Lyon

Coda Comp and Care with Clips

2010-08-15T20:17:00.000-07:00

Once again, we had big plans for loading our bikes up and going for a test biking/camping run. And once again, it didn't happen the way we planned it. But, like last time, we learned a lot and made tons of progress.

Lyon bought his bike yesterday- the Jamis Coda Comp. It's the same bike Areil's riding (she's the girl who works at Hampshire Bike Exchange, where we've been going to get all our bicycle-related things). I'll let him tell you about his bike, especially once he's had some time to ride it, but it's got a carbon fork which makes it lighter and I think it's a good shock-absorber too.

Ariel has been such an inspiration. Not only is she always available at the bike shop to answer questions and brainstorm with us, but we've been able to trade some things and help each other out. We gave her an extra 2-person tent we had which she may not use on her trip, but will be good someday. And it turns out, she's letting me borrow her extra pair of bike shoes for our trip. Why do I need special bike shoes? Because they have cleats in them. Why do I need shoes with cleats in them? Because, in the end after much back and forth, we sprung for the pedals with clips, and we decided to just hope that we like them as much as everyone else does.

Lyon is the one who made the decision to get them. I was more of the lazy, cheap attitude-it just seemed one more expense, and the thought of having my foot attached to my pedal made me a little nervous. But once Lyon had made up his mind, I realized I couldn't get left behind. You see, there have been too many instances where we went to dinner and Lyon ordered something adventurous and a little pricey, while I opted to order something I knew I'd like that was in my price range. What always happens? The waiter sets Lyon's food down in front of him and I'm immediately jealous. Well not this time! I won't be huffing and puffing up hills in foot straps while his feet are neatly clipped into pedals, making his uphill climbs more efficient than mine. No way! If he's on board with the clips, I'm on board too!

It was funny riding around the parking lot at Hampshire Bike Exchange with our feet clipped into pedals for the first time. And before I took off, I tried engaging and releasing my foot from the pedal. I couldn't get my foot out! I tried and tried, but eventually ariel had to run and get a screw driver so she could release the tension on the pedal. I'm glad that happened with one foot on the ground instead of while in motion. Ariel laughed as she remembered her first experience with clips. Unable to get her feet out of her pedals when she came to a stop at a light, she simply fell over. Once I was sure I'd be able to get my foot out, I took a spin, and it did feel good. I can tell how it would be an efficient use of power.

In addition to Lyon's bike this weekend (which happened to be tax-free weekend in Massachusetts, sweet!), we bought:

A bike light that detaches and functions as a flashlight

A multitool with most of the bike tools we'll need (complete with tire levers)

2 rear racks

One pair of Panniers (we went with a brand called Axiom. They're medium sized, and are not completely water proof because if they were they wouldn't be breathable at all. They just look like little back packs, and they have straps we can use to care them like shoulder bags when we're on a plane or bus.

An adapter for our Presta tire valves (this will allow us to fill our tires at gas stations. bikes I had growing up were always Schrader valves, but the last two bikes I've had have been Presta. Here's a quick explanation and some pics: http://www.sheldonbrown.com/brandt/presta-schrader.html)

Bottle cages (for now, we each have two)

A small pump that fits easily against a bike's top tube (we had one already, but this one has a short hose, which will make pumping easier).

A $5 patch kit for when we get flats

2 extra tubes (again, for when we get flats)

A long bike lock that we can use to lock both our bikes together (we also both have Ulocks).

That's mostly it. We've still got more to buy, but the bulk is out of the way. Oh! And we planned out the first few days of the trip. More on that in the next entry.

My New Bike and Other Developments

2010-08-11T20:11:00.000-07:00

Lyon is back! After almost a month on the road, he came rolling into New England from West Virginia in a van full of haggard musicians. In fact, the night he got in, I was driving back from NYC after a last visit with Julia, Brad and Adam. And wouldn't you know, on I- 91, about an hour from Northampton, I noticed a van coming up beside me, and then slowing down to match my speed. I don't really know the people Lyon was on tour with this last time. I've never seen them play, and I'd only ever briefly met Squash, the man behind JP Harris and the Tough Choices.

So I didn't recognize the pretty girl with the tattoos and shaved head waving wildly at me through the front window, and all the back windows were tinted, but I knew Lyon was in there somewhere. I waved with caution at first, but smiling and growing more certain that this was the Tough Choices band van. Then Lyon must have crawled up to the front seat because out popped his head, hat and hair blowing in the wind, all teeth and smiles. They pointed to the nearest exit, pulling ahead of me, and I followed them. After coming to a stop, I climbed out of my car and Lyon came running down the road to hug me, while the band clapped and yelled.

So we're back in the same space again, and we may not have our own home to go to anymore, but we certainly have loving, caring friends who are making sure we are far from homeless (we are actually closer to spoiled than homeless).

But, let's talk about bikes. Guess who got her new blue touring bike! It's the Jamis Aurora, and it looks like this:

I got it last Thursday and have been riding it some, but am still getting used to it. It's much bigger than my other bike, and I notice the difference, but the longer I go without my old bike, the less I compare this new one to it. I feel safer on it, and it handles roots, rocks, gravel and pot holes much better. We've been staying with Levin and Dawn out in Leverett, and the other morning I took off in the early morning to work. It was so cool to roll out of the drive onto a gravel/dirt road (even though it turns to paved road in a matter of yards) and bike through the woods, past farm land and vegetable stands. I have to admit I was getting a little sick of the bike path from Northampton to Amherst.

When I went to buy the bike, this girl, who I'd spoken to before, was working. First of all, her "cool" points already go through the roof because she works at a bike shop and rocks the greasy black fingers and cute Euro racing cap like a pro. Secondly, she's biking from Seattle to San Francisco in September! Of course it crossed my mind to ask her if she wanted to maybe meet up on the West Coast, but I didn't want to cramp her style, so I bit my tongue. But she actually brought it up herself! And we exchanged numbers. Sweet. I feel so much more comfortable asking her questions about what I need to buy and do for this trip than I do asking anyone else. Oh, and she's building and customizing her own bike. Cool points just went to the moon.

Thought: Lots of people say to get clips for our pedals. I don't want to spend the money on the clips or the shoes. And I'm secretly (or not so secretly), afraid to have my feet clipped in like that. I'm just getting used to the pedal straps on my current bike. Maybe next tour we can get clips.

And lastly, yesterday we went to a free bike clinic at REI. It was nothing fancy, but I learned to change a tire, and how to maintain a bike. We wandered around the store getting ideas of what we might want to buy, mostly taking mental notes. We did, however, get a durable coffee cup to share, and two camping sporks. We'll have to write our names on them so that when Lyon looses his he doesn't try to steal mine (wink!).

We eyed the multi-tools (like a swiss army knife but instead of toothpicks and tweezers, it's wrenches and levers and other bicycle tools), but we didn't buy one. Maybe we can find one cheap on online.

Full speed ahead at this point. At Rao's now, feeling sentimental. I wrote so many papers and did so much procrastinating at this coffee shop over the years. I passed a piece of paper with the Coasting blog to one of the guys that's been working here since I can recall. He's always been so nice and always remembered my face as one of the many frequent visitors to his coffee shop. Once, when I was walking to town, I passed him on the sidewalk and we waved. "I know where you're going!" he teased. I don't remember anymore where I was going, but we was probably right. I was probably going to Raos.

Here we go!

Getting a Real Touring Bike

2010-07-25T17:25:00.001-07:00

So, while I love my current bike, it's becoming apparent that I'm going to need a different one for the trip. You can see that my thinking has changed significantly since I bought my current road bike: http://coastingnow.blogspot.com/2010/04/bike.html. But I want to put this whole learning process out there, and am glad to have it documented so other people starting from scratch will have a resource.

These are the main ways that my current bike (Jamis Ventura Sport Femme) falls short:

Brakes--> I don't feel comfortable having sidepull brakes. They don't feel accessible, and I'm afraid one day I'll need to stop on a dime and won't be able to. I thought I would get used to them, but after 2 1/2 months, I haven't.

Wheels/Tires--> Tires are very thin (23 millimeters), not meant to bear extra weight, and only meant for the road. There isn't room for replacing these tires with ones that are much thicker. I'm afraid I'd spend the entire trip changing flats (and potentially hitch hiking to the next bike shop).

Gears--> My bike is only a 16-speed, which I discovered isn't enough for getting up hills when I have extra weight.

Seat--> It's fine now, but I'd have to change it in before the trip. I've heard this is one of the most important things for long-distance (for obvious reasons).

Loading it up--> There aren't built-in thread holes for putting racks on my road bike in the front. I'll most likely need racks in the front and back.

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The bike I'm looking at (Jamis Aurora) is from Hampshire Bike Exchange as well. I could trade my bike in and just pay the few hundred dollars difference for the Aurora.

Brakes--> It's got front and side brakes-best of both worlds.

Wheels/Tires--->These tires are 32 millimeters thick and are puncture resistant.

Gears--> 27-speed, making climbing hills much easier

Seat--> Wider and plushier than my current seat-meant for sitting on it for a long while.

Loading it up--> Its meant for this. I'd have all kinds of options here

Most importantly, I think I'll be safer and happier on this bike. It's around 27 pounds, which still isn't bad for a regular commuter, so I could continue to use it once we're settled in Austin-no problem.

Lyon is looking at the Jamis Coda Comp. Maybe he can write an entry about that later. I'll let you know when I make the switch! Might be this week!

It's Hard to Plan a Bike Trip when Lyon's off Cavorting with his Musician Friends

2010-07-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

I thought these photos summed up our latest progress on planning the bike trip: