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Day 35: Buccaneer State Park, MS —> Dauphin Island, AL

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Rode 100 miles!

Embarked on my longest day of riding so far.

Woke up at the state park and was offered a cup of coffee by an older R.V. couple a few spots down from me.

Followed the gulf towards Dauphin Island. The gulf coast along Mississippi and Alabama was a flurry of high-rises and condos. The beaches were deserted and I could understand why; cold and polluted water is not enticing to swim in. I gazed in confusion as a squadron of sand-combing machines hummed along the beach. It was amusing to see municipal workers manicuring a beach that only a few people would walk on. A side wind hurdled me along as I rolled from one beach boardwalk to the next. Tourist traps pockmarked the beginning and end of each downtown beachfront avenue. These beaches did not tempt me in the slightest to jump in. I’m saving myself for Florida’s beaches! =)

The dusk dawned over me as I munched on carrots and peanut butter on a bridge in southwest Alabama. Riding through rural Alabama gave me plenty of time to practice my barking skills. In the span of two hours, three separate packs of dogs chased after me. I barked back and they startled towards their yard as I pedaled furiously away.

I stopped at a dimly-lit gas station a few miles out from the Dauphin Island bridge for water and snacks. Every gas station I stopped at along the Mississippi/Alabama coast had its own special off-putting flavor/after taste in the water. I was never sure about what exactly was tainting the water’s taste - lead, residual water line chemicals, or worse? Dependable clean water is a privilege I long took for granted on the west coast. In spite of some modern creature comforts, a significant chunk of rural America’s dwindling infrastructure often falls between the cracks. The blight seen throughout our countryside serves as a reminder to our increasingly distant concept of “The American Dream”. Deferred municipal maintenance, polluted water, inadequate healthcare, limited education and sparse jobs among other issues plague these rural communities. That being said, systemic problems and failing infrastructure trouble metropolitan areas as well. 

The cold wind incentivized me to ride at a zippy pace as I neared Dauphin Island. The island was peaceful as I rolled in around 10pm; the streets were empty and smoothly-paved. I navigated to my host’s property and was delighted to see luxurious amenities. The house is propped up on stilts; the area is prone to hurricanes in the summer so the buildings adapt to the weather. My host, John, was out of town but he built accommodations for bike tourists to camp under his house. There was a large wooden platform above the water with potable water/cold shower, bench, chairs, and a hammock precariously slung over water - I loved it! I don’t need much to be happy, but this spot was really the cherry on top of a long day of riding.

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Day 34: News Orleans, Louisiana --> Buccaneer State Park, Waveland, MS

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Rode 61 miles

Said goodbye to my sisters and headed to the city park to prepare breakfast. Made bagels with tuna and peanut butter (on separate pieces of bread) for a maximum protein punch.

A local at a gas station in coastal Mississippi struck up a conversation with me. He admitted he was drunk and passed me a beer from a cooler in the back of his trunk. I tried my best to understand what he was saying. His drunken demeanor and thick southern drawl made me feel lost in translation. He was speaking “Cajun” - a French-influenced southern accent originating from southern Louisiana. He warned me about the reckless drivers in the area that often drive drunk. The conversation was bursting at the seams with irony; he admitted he’s been drinking and driving for years. The fella mentioned that there’s not much to do in rural Mississippi other than fishing, hunting, drinking and smoking weed. I finished the beer, turned on all my bike lights, and headed out to the nearest campsite - hyper aware of my vulnerability as a bicyclist in a state of normalized drunk driving.

Rolled into Buccaneer State Park around 6pm as fireworks exploded over the beach. Took a shower and slept like a slug.

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Day 33: Austin, TX --> New Orleans, LA Thursday, Dec. 22, 2016 - Joined a rideshare from Austin to New Orleans to avoid shipping my bike/packing/unpacking it. - Hands down the worst rideshare I've ever experienced (out of the forty I've been on over the years). I could tell it was her first rideshare, but her neurotic turd personality really irked me. - Was happy to meet up with my sisters. Got a pulled pork sandwich with them and their friends; Ally, Jackson, and Phil at a local spot called "The Joint". - After eating we all headed over to a nearby D.I.Y. music venue where the music was as eclectic as the crowd. Small circles of 20-somethings huddle in and out of the venue chatting, smoking and drinking animatedly. The music mixed between fast paced electro screaming, metal, chipper beats, and satanic throat lurching. I didn't "lose myself in the music" but it was interesting to listen to nonetheless. The next day I biked around New Orleans with my sisters; exploring the French Quarter (Cafe du Monde and a Po-Boy spot beloved by locals). Bourbon Street lived up to its day-drunk tourist trap reputation. Every other block clamored with the string twang or brass croon of a busking squad. The city never sleeps as its rich cultural history intertwines the past and present together. New Orleans is a living monument to the French, African and American culture's that influence the city to this day. The city is undergoing growing pains as waves of gentrification and newcomers flock to its vibrant streets. Unfortunately the city was not built to withstand the destruction of natural disasters (I.e. Hurricanes and extreme flooding for an area 200 ft. below sea level). The French Quarter seems bustling no matter the day as entertainers, musicians, tourists, and career alcoholics rustled through the streets yapping loudly. It's not my scene but I appreciated how folx were living it up every day on Bourbon St. with an infinite drink in hand. I hung out with Phil on the by water and dived hella veggies. On Christmas Day me and my sisters left for our week of vacation on Florida's beaches.

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Day 32: Austin, TX! Friday, Dec. 16 - 22, 2016 - I stayed my first night at Chad and Tattiana's house in north Austin. Chad is a glaciologist working on climate change research for the University of Texas Austin. He and Tatiana live in an old, rickety house in northern Austin. I initially was going to sleep in their downstairs garage/chill room but opted to sleep upstairs after hearing about the flea colony in the play room. They invited me to get pizza and beer with their friends - I am always down for food & beer so how could I decline! They complained about the recent "Cold Front" hitting Austin. A day before I arrived Austin was roughly 80 degrees and when I rolled into town it was in the 30's. I watched the Cosmos (Carl Sagan) with them and rested well. - Biked over to my next WarmShowers host, Kersten and his girlfriend to stay the night. Kersten works as a programmer and was flipping a house with his girlfriend in northern Austin. Woke up way too early (6am), ate quinoa and eggs with Kersten and wandered through Downtown Austin and the university. - After riding through downtown Austin I hollered out to more WarmShowers hosts. I stumbled across Thomas, who eagerly accepted my hosting inquiry. Thomas rocks a mullet and works at a local bike kitchen (Austin Yellow Bike Project). He is hands down one of the most down-to-earth, and gracious hosts I've had so far this trip. When I first entered his house, the yeasty aroma of hops and barley overwhelmed me. Thomas was brewing beer with his girlfriend, Anna. I felt at home as nostalgia from my college home brewing days rolled through my mind. A line of bikes hung from Thomas's living room wall as D.I.Y. Hanging contraptions littered the house. I brought back 3 days worth of dumpster pizza for all to enjoy - I gained five pounds in Austin and quickly burned it off. The local bike kitchen, Austin Yellow Bike Project, garnered my attention and I rode over to check it out. A large warehouse full of bikes, parts, and eager beavers rustled around sharing the love of all that is pedal powered. I wrenched on my bike during the open shop hours and befriended some of the folx there. I felt in my element; joyously helping people learning how to repair their bikes. After "hippie-renting" a bike rack at Walmart, I arranged a craigslist rideshare to New Orleans to meet up with my sisters.

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Day 31: Grants, NM –> Albuquerque, NM Tuesday, Dec. 13, 2016 Rode 80 miles

- Stayed with Tyler (WarmShower’s host) near downtown Albuquerque for two days. Tyler is a wild land firefighter who has an unique thirst for beer and bike touring - so naturally we got along. He relished about his experience riding the Southern Tier (San Diego to Key West). Tyler mentioned a few worthwhile camping spots along the gulf coast. He gave me a few more pointers on stealth camping in the area. I rode around town with Tyler and got breakfast burritos before heading east towards Austin. - Rode around Albuquerque soaking up the sights and sounds. Went to Fixed and Free bike shop upon the advice of Tyler. I modified my front rack and dialed in my bike in the shop for free. Shared some beers and chatted for a few hours with some of the local bikers and friendly folx there. A fella named Mark runs the shop solo and tends to the needs of his bike community in a very altruistic manner. If you’re looking to build a frankenbike or trade a few beers for wrenching advice; Mark will gladly help you out. He unloaded a bunch of granola bars into my hand and replaced my disc pads for free - I infinitely appreciated his generosity. - Stayed at Richard’s house on Dec. 15th. Richard had never hosted a bike tourist before so I popped his WarmShowers cherry. Richard is in his 60s and is retired with five kids (divorced). He moved from Colorado to Albuquerque in search of cheaper rent and new opportunities. Jazz fusion music played in the background as he fired off one question after another. He prepared me a delicious spaghetti and meatballs dinner and offered me his guest room. Since I was Richard’s first W.S. Guest he was very eager-beaver and hollered out frequently to see if I needed anything. It was heartwarming to be in the presence of another gracious host. - My plan to arrive in New Orleans before Christmas had to be fast tracked. By bike, I would have to ride 10 consecutive 100 mile days to make it to New Orleans in time. Knowing the limits of my mind and body, I opted to take a ride share from Albuquerque to Austin. In doing so, I would not have to disassemble my bike and ship it in a box. Lord knows I dread having to adjust my fenders, brakes and rack; let alone my bike fit. I camped out in Roswell, N.M. (The infamous U.F.O. Destination of America) with the folx in my rideshare. The next night I was dropped off at my host house in Austin.

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Day 30: Gallup, NM --> Grants, NM Monday, Dec, 12, 2016 Rode 80 miles - Left my motel room late (11:45 am) as I headed east on I-40. - Bought snacks at a mega gas station with an expansive fueling bay for truckers. Informed the Cinnabon lady that she was overcharging me for pecans on top of being blissfully unaware of the company's false advertising. - Rode on the Interstate towards Grants. A few hours west of Albuquerque I stumbled across another biker on the road. He was pushing his fully-laden bike up a sloping hill. His name was Fred and he is a Vietnam-Vet turned home-free bike traveler. He was riding from Bellingham, WA --> Florida. He's been on the road for the past 16 years - amassing over 140,000 miles in the process. I asked him if he'd be down to collaborate on a communal dinner/camp together. He said he prefers to camp alone and suffers from PTSD - as he gets anxiety attacks when camping around other people at night. I understood and gave Fred some of my snacks. We chatted about bikes and he noticed my rig. "Whad'yah riding there.....a Shurly?" I blushed a bit and admitted I was riding a Trucker. I said I chose it for the sake of durability despite its extreme weight at around 120 pounds fully loaded. He said to not worry about weight as his bike weighed around 325 pounds. I admired his gumption and optimism. He told me to keep my eye out on the side of the road for ground scores. Fred recounted a story of a fella he met biking in Tennessee who found $10,000 in a briefcase on the side of the road. He presumed it was drug money; hastily thrown out the side of a window in a sketchy circumstance. You never know who and what you'll find on the road. I wished Fred safe travels as I rode eastwards.

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Day 29: Petrified National Forest, AZ --> Gallup, NM Saturday, Dec. 10, 2016 Rode 74 miles - Slept in a sandy field 1/4 mile away from the Railroad Tracks upon the advice of a local market worker. (Hands down worst night of sleep/camping so far). - Woke up to a flat fire and decided to get a cheap motel room to fix it/shower/clean my clothes (stayed Sunday) - Attended to my health and hygiene; charged up all my gear - Relished in the authenticity of my smoke-stained, questionable counter surfaces and 70's furniture in the motel room.

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Day 28: Winslow, AZ --> Petrified National Forest, AZ (Painted Rim Campground) Friday, Dec. 9, 2016 Rode 62 miles - camped out in the Painted Rim campground/scenic view spot in the Petrified National Forest. Rolled into the camp with my lights off for ultimate discreetness. Set up my camp at the top of a petrified canyon cliff 10 feet off a trail. Woke up to an illuminated petrified rock canyon below my camp. Shades of grey, white, blue, green, red, orange, and yellow blended into the canyon below under daylight.

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Day 27: Flagstaff, Arizona --> Winslow, AZ (McHood Park campsite) Thursday, Dec. 8, 2016 Rode 60 miles - Departed from Flagstaff HELLA late - around 2:30pm. A series of gradual rolling hills carried me from Flagstaff to Winslow on I-40. - Camped out near Winslow, got diarrhea twice (vowed to myself to never eat Luna protein bars again; for they leave me quaking in my boots). Bummed a nearby R.V. Camper for T.P. And paper towels. He was surprised to hear that I was camping and said he wouldn't last a day on a bike trip. "You're camping; like outside?" The R.V. Parker remarked as I relayed my story to him. He continued on saying, "I haven't camp "camped" in a while; I've been living off the grid in my 80-footer RV. My wife's been watching Fox News 24/7 so I've gotta find an excuse to get away from all the depressing news." I nodded on and headed back to my campsite. I slept by the lake as ducks quaked in the distance. I woke up to one car after another driving past my campsite; vying to swoop upon the view. Apparently I chose the most secluded/scenic spot and all the local turkey vultures were lurking around it. I packed up my camp at a leisurely pace and chatted on the phone with my pops. I headed east to the Petrified Forest on Interstate 40. I ate a heavy breakfast of soup, almond butter, bagels, and salami with cheeses.

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Day 26: Willow Springs, AZ --> Flagstaff, AZ Dec. 3, 2016 Saturday Rode 69 miles - Changed my plans in order to quicken up my pace. Opted to ride south to Flagstaff for the warmer weather and abundance of WarmShowers hosts. - Stayed at Joe's house in Flagstaff for Dec. 3/4/5/6/7. - First night at Joe's I chatted with him and his brother over a gin and tonic. - On the second night I went to dinner with Joe and another bike tourist staying at his house named Alis. Originally from Quebec, Canada; she rode from Montreal to Flagstaff in the past three months. She had a cheerful disposition and is heading over to Florida in the next three months. - Found out my front rack snapped on both sides. I arranged for a local welder to braze it back together. To make the rack more stable, I ordered specific mounting brackets that would prevent the rack from wobbling side to side {which is what I presume caused it to snap in the first place}. This whole ordeal ending up costing me more than I expected but I can't finish my trip with a broken rack. The broken rack reminded me that I should not defer maintenance on my bike because I'm feeling lazy or assuming that it's claimed durability will hold its weight forever. The law of impermanence keeps the workings of our world in check and balance. Sometimes it feels like this impermanence may spite us. Rather it teaches us how to adapt and evolve to the ticking time-bomb of life's processes. And as such, you need to invest energy, time, and skill into objects/relationships that you'd like to keep during your lifetime. I don't intend on buying utilitarian things if they don't serve me a purpose for years to come. - Went to open mic @ at a local redneck bar with Alis, Joe and Mark the Fiddler/Flutist. Ending up befriending the sound technician working at the bar. We chatted it up and he bought me a few beers. Ending up having a swell time at the bar as the conversations flowed freely. - Participated in a B.L.T. (Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato) night, at Joe's house. Joe had a bunch of his friends over; I chatted with a few of them and passed out in one of the six hammocks in the play room. I left the following day and wished Alis safe travels as she traveled south towards Sedona.

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Day 25: Page, Arizona --> Tuba City, Arizona Dec. 2, Friday 2016 Rode 54 miles - While riding through the northern tip of the Navajo reservation, my eyes frequently caught the glimmer of broken glass bottles in the distance. Most folx on the West Coast are accustomed to municipal recycling. In the South West, such an option is slim - if not nonexistent. Basic environmentally-conscious acts like recycling are interpreted by many in the West as common sense. Yet its best not to take this sense for granted. Recycling is a building block to a more progressive energy and waste system. Reflections like these remind me that a majority of America is behind the times; in respect to a lacking social, health, and transportation infrastructure (among other problems). That being said, indigenous reservations maintain a high degree of sovereignty from the American government. In large part this was a result of the treaties that tribes were forced to sign under duress. These treaties allotted land for tribes to live on "Reservations"; much of this land was arid and unfarmable. The European colonists preferred to live on the verdant, water-rich plots of American soil and consequently booted out the Indigenous tribes. The laws and funding on the "Res" generally differs from their surrounding areas. The tribal council has jurisdiction over the reservations, instead of the local or federal government. And as such, reservations don't reap the municipal benefits of taxes and public funds. Reservations are highly fragmented and exist between enclaves of private and tribal land. Not all Indigenous nations own reservation land, while some share land between tribes. Tribes often have no historical connection to the land that the American government designated them to live on. I pondered these thoughts while witnessing the destitution firsthand. I treaded lightly; conscious of my privilege as a white man and the actions of my ancestors. The hills slowly rolled up and down; allowing me to set a 18 m.p.h. pace line. As I cruised down a canyon, a school bus zoomed past me. A dozen native kids rumbled out of the bus and ran towards me with curiosity. They yelled "LOOK, A BIKER! BIKER! BIKER! BIKER!". The rarity of seeing a bike tourist riding through the Navajo Reservation dawned on me. I felt like a hero to the kids for around 10 seconds. The hunger pains distracted me from daydreaming into the sloping sandstone canyon. Guided by my stomach, I rolled into the outskirts of a Willow Springs gas station. Inside the station a young Navajo man worked the cashier while a group of a locals waited in line. The cashier rolled his eyes as a older Navajo woman chastised him in her native language. He went back to scrolling on his phone while rap music played in the background. I asked the cashier if he knew of any local camping spots. He mentioned that most Native craft/jewelry residences wouldn't mind if I camped on their land (I always ask permission). The sun dimmed as I scoured the side of the road near Willow Springs for a fairly secluded camp spot. I slowed my bike near a Native jewelry stand called "NavajoLand". Upon walking through the front gate a pack off eight scruffy dogs started barking at me. I knelt down to my heel and I made clicking sounds with the top of my mouth (as to lure a cat over to you). Soon enough, the dogs galloped over to me and demanded a petting session. I petted them and they romped around me in a trance of playfulness. I knocked on the door of the craft residence. A young native woman opened up as seven kids swirled around her feet. I told her about my journey and asked to camp in her backyard. She obliged my camping request and peppered me with questions about my biking trip. I responded frankly to her curiosity. I scoured out the backyard for a camp spot protected from the elements. After walking past a dusty yard littered with garbage and dog poo, I settled on a secluded sand bank enclosed in a sandstone canyon. I tried my best to sleep through a growling stomach. Waking up the next morning, I chowed down a few Greek yogurt's for breakfast. I rested a tie-dye shirt and Mamba candy bar on the doorstep as a departing gift. I gave the pack of dogs a group pet before heading south to Flagstaff.

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Day 24: White House Campground –> Page, AZ Nov. 30, Wednesday 2016 Rode 40 miles / Camped in R.V. Park Nov. 30/Dec. 1

- The bitter cold of the desert woke me up before the sun rose at 7am. I disassembled my camp like a banana slug in no hurry. I paid careful attention to my pedaling technique as I headed east towards Page. If I strain one muscle or ligament beyond its abilities, I could jeopardize this trip. The vast, lone desert treated me again as the slope led towards Big Water. As I got closer to Page, I doubted if the local WarmShowers host would respond. I rolled up to the host house; knocking on his door - unsure if he was home or not, After being met with dead silence for a few minutes, I opted for a back-up plan. I stumbled across a nearby R.V. Park that was flush with amenities fit for royalty (at least in my opinion). The park sported a laundry room, bathroom, warm showers, potable water, electricity outputs, hot tub and a pool. I relished in the temporary offering of creature comforts. While setting up camp a car parked next to my spot. A 20-something man and woman lept out, incessantly opening and closing doors while packing things in and out. I introduced myself in an attempt to befriend any potential camping neighbors. A young fella named Reed was traveling with a German girl he met a few years back in England. Turns out Reed is a singer/song-writer and is traveling America in search of a new place to call home. He’s originally from upstate New York and is fond of the West Coast. By chance Reed and I bonded over a similar taste in wholesome food. Moreover, we both saw the world through a cynical pair of glasses. We socialized and discussed the complexities of rural America while soaking in the R.V. Park hot tub. After a half hour of the hot tub social, we both hit the hay. Reed slept in his car while I nestled up in my tent. The next day I woke up to the sounds of A.T.V.’s revving around the R.V. Park. Instead of a rooster cuck-coo'ing; some sections of rural America wake up to the sound of turbo diesel’s and A.T.V.’s revving. YEEEEEHAAAAWWW BABY!!! I crawled out of my tent and rustled around to heat up water for a cup of coffee. Reed greeted me with a common pleasantry, “morning” as did I to him in return. A permanent R.V. Parker unsuccessfully attempted to start his Vespa so he could ride the 150 yards to the bathroom. He looked defeated when he trudged over to the bathroom stalls on foot. I saw a black and grey-spotted feral cat trying to sweet-talk bathroom goer’s into letting him into the warmed stalls. I petted him and he swirled around me; nudging his head into my hands. No matter where you are on the food chain - treat all walks of life with respect unless they give you a reason to do otherwise.

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Day 23: Kanab, Utah --> White House Campgrounds, Utah (West of Big Water) Nov. 29, Tuesday 2016 Rode 35 miles - I headed east from Kanab on a fairly flat highway. Soon enough I faced a few miles of steep hills. As usual, I look towards hill climbing with optimism - what goes up must go down. Riding downhill on a 100 pound bike going 50 m.p.h. Is euphoric to say the least. I shout out "YEEEEEEE" and "YAHHH BUDDDYYY" as the wind ripples my face on long descents. This gets my heart pumping and never fails to strike me with a silly grin. My solitude on long days naturally turns my interior monologues into vocal conversations with myself. Some folks may think this is the mark of a crazy man - but I think otherwise. Everyone talks to themselves in their head; doing it out loud I've found is much more re-affirming of your thought-process. Although I think I might of learned this trait from my mother. I truly sing like no one's listening and dance like no one's watching (just like the famous quote). I started feeling a tingling sensation in my right knee. This "tingle" soon turned into a knifing pain that made my right kneecap (patella) feel like it exploded. Realizing my ability to finish this trip depends on me staying relatively uninjured, I toned down my riding pace. Roughly 25 miles west of Page, AZ I stumbled across a B.L.M. office with a nearby campsite. The sun slowly faded into the horizon as I rode into the "White House Campground". I scouted out the grounds; searching for the most secluded spot. I followed my usual camping routine: layer up all my clothes, set my tent up, and scour the area for dry firewood. Usually at most campsites any bit of burnable wood in a 200 yard radius has already been pillaged. Most folks go for the route of least resistance; meaning that all the nearby trees were scraggly from goons ripping their limbs and branches off. I found a few sizable dry logs a quarter of the mile down the road and schlepped them back to my campsite. With dry desert sage as my fuel/tinder, the fire sparked up quickly. I warmed up by the flames and watched the sunset morph from a maroon haze into a cotton candy swirl. There's something instinctually pleasant about watching a campfire for hours on end. To be honest, gazing upon a fire smolder away entertains my imagination more than Netflix ever could. As the fire stoked on, I heard a rumble in the distance and saw bright lights illuminating the parking lot. A truck pulled up blasting loud country music and idled for a few minutes. I held my breath momentarily and relaxed as the truck drove away. I went to bed early at 10am as a chorus of coyotes howled from the distant mountain tops.

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Day 22: Colorado City, Arizona –> Kanab, Utah Rode 40 miles -Camped at an R.V. Park Nov. 27/28

- I headed towards Kanab - 40 miles east as a “treat” for the past few days of calf-clenching headwinds. The ride towards Kanab was a gradual downhill cruise. I was making good time with my riding pace - arriving in town at 3pm. Rolling into town early gives me more flexibility for adjusting my plans (where will I camp/sleep/eat/poop/re-stock on food, etc.) I ventured into the local tourist info center to see if there were any nearby camping spots not listed on Google Maps. With the nearest developed campsite 15 miles north through mountains, I figured it would be wise to stay near town. And so I settled on tenting it up at a local RV Park. I knew a snow storm was approaching so I layered up accordingly. Roughly 150 yards away from the RV Park was a Mickey D’s. I abandoned my temporary state of semi-health consciousness and dove into a box of French Fries. I took advantage of McDonald’s free Wi-Fi and typed up a few more blog posts. Diners sitting around me ogled on with curiosity as I journaled away. I’m used to people staring at me as I continue on with my duties unflustered. I set up my tent in the RV Park; unsure of how much snow would fall. I woke up the next morning to a fresh, white blanket of snow on the campground. After checking the weather again, I decided to stay another night to wait out the snow. I took a shower in arguably one of the least ventilated and un-hygienic bathrooms in the Western Hemisphere. I wore my sandals in the shower because although I couldn’t see the fungus - it was surely among us. A dusty fan puttered in the background as countless water droplets formed on the ceiling. I dried off quickly as the “rain” from the ceiling started dripping down to the floor. Flakes of snow started to drift through the air as I ran over to my camp spot to equip my foul-weather gear. A few folx living in the RV Park were watching me as I scrambled to layer up. A fellow dressed head-to-toe in camouflage named Wade walked over to my spot. Wade grew concerned about my well-being - wondering if I’d freeze to death. This is becoming a common interaction with strangers on the trip. I am equally beguiled and thankful for random people’s curiosity/concern for my well being. The bystander effect comes to life when you see someone “Hardin-It-Out” in sub-freezing temperatures. Wade returned to my spot and gave me a bundle of firewood with a small electric heater (to keep me toasty in my tent). I thanked him for his unconditional generosity and sparked up a fire to keep me warm for the night. Wade returned with an extension cable for the heater and we struck up a continued conversation. He commented on the flexibility and freedom of living on the road. Wade sold most of his belongings/property and travels from one RV Park to the next - working as a camp host with his wife. He mentioned I had the rest of my life to be stuck in one place while being attached to bill payments. Wade was preaching to the choir for I know one can’t expect to be worldly if they live in one place their whole live. He asked if I was ex-military - possibly presuming the mixture of all black waterproof gear and camping in sub-freezing temperatures would be the domain of a hard ass. I replied bluntly; remarking that I prefer to travel and experience the diversity of America on a bike rather than in a metal box going 65 mph. Moreover, I would never serve in the armed forces after understanding the complex interplay of power, money, and corruption that is funneled into oversea battles. Being a pawn for a corporate-funded war-mongering government chess player isn’t “honorable” or “patriotic” - it’s dehumanizing. I huddled by the fire until 11pm - waiting for the flames/coals to settle down before I crawled into my tent. I woke up to a fresh layer of snow on the ground and a quiet campground. I absentmindedly ate breakfast at Mickey D’s and soon regretted it after the heart burn kicked in.

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Day 21: St. George, Utah –> Colorado City, Arizona Rode 57 miles Saturday, Nov. 25, 2016

- I left Jared’s house around 11am as I gave one of his daughters my departing gifts - a half-eaten bag of guacamole chips and a loaf of rosemary bread. Riding towards Costco was full of anticipation for their caloric-rich pizza. I ordered an XL pizza w/ individual slices wrapped in tin-foil. I figured the 12 slices of combo pizza (each 700 calories dense) would satiate me for 3 days of riding (at the princely sum of $10). As per usual, I received dozens of ogling stares for simply existing (a lone traveling bicyclist contrasts starkly with the hordes of automobile-dependent and creature-comfort addicted masses). Jared showed me a bike path that would comfortably take me to the outskirts of Hurricane. I relished in the solitude of a freshly-paved path free of the typical hoopla; big-rigs and the obnoxious hum of turbo-diesel pick-ups. In search of a campsite, I settled on a spot near the outskirts of Colorado City (Cedar Canyon!). Riding past multi-level, barricaded Mormon castles reminded me that I was still in Utah (on the border with Arizona, nonetheless). The “private” campsite had wooden benches, fire pits, and burnable scrap tree branches ‘a plenty. Apparently this was a “Air B-n-B” site but I couldn’t fathom a cosmopolitan company spreading its presence in the boonies of Utah - but I could be wrong. The campsite was enclosed in Juniper groves and ground-hugging cacti - embanked on all sides by towering red sandstone canyons. I smiled at the surplus of freshly cut wood as I amassed a campfire that kept me toasty for over 5 hours. The rain drizzled on my tent as local A.T.V. turds farted around at 1am on the nearby sandy trails. I woke up around 8am; munching on leftover Costco pizza, milk, and vitamin water. Yes, my repertoire of touring food sounds gross but it gets me from Point A to Point B - and that’s all that matters (plus, it’s quite budget friendly).

[faustour-blog]

Day 20: Kanaaraville, Utah –> St. George, Utah Rode 50 miles Thursday, Nov. 24, 2016

- The ride from Kanaaraville wasn’t much of a challenge as it was 90% downhill (I cruised most of it with a wide smile). I appreciated the luxurious downhills as the past few days have been smacking me around with headwinds. I stayed at a WarmShowers host house (Jared and his family). He invited me to a Thanksgiving meal at his friends house. When we got there around a dozen kids were bouncing across the room hopped up on soda. I filled up my plate and chowed down on over 6 different dishes of food. Jared, his wife, and their 6 kids (3 boys, 3 girls all different ages) and I piled into his mini-van to head back to his house. During the ride the kids were constantly complaining about the music or any slight inconvenience. Jared and his wife joked around with their kids, giving them mini-doses of tough love here and there when needed. Observing the dynamics of a rambunctious family reminded me of how feral and restless I was as a kid. Raising kids takes patience and gumption - two traits I hold dear to my heart. Jared showed me more bike-friendly routes through Northern Arizona. He invited me to go on a morning mountain bike ride and I eagerly accepted his offer. The trail was a flowy single track of dusty rock gardens. Jared knew these trails like the back of his hand and he shredded them hard. I enjoyed the 40-pound touring bike shred sesh for the lumbering pirate ship experience it was. After the ride Jared’s family decided to hike in Snow Canyon Park - a jutted landscape of petrified rock and red sandstone canyons. Tens of thousands of years ago this land was engulfed in volcanic flows. Nowadays, kids, families and tourists crawl through these narrow, petrified lava tubes yearning for novelty in nature. There were hordes of families all across the canyon shuffling from one unique rock formation to the next. I was hungry and tired throughout the evening despite the turtle-pace of the hike. Somehow we lost sight of the official trail and ended up sliding down and lurching over rock large rock formations to find some sense of a trail. After nearly an hour and a half of wandering aimlessly around the canyon, we stumbled across a trail marker and made it back to the main road. I actually enjoyed the aimless adventure of getting lost and eventually finding ourselves next to a trail. I stayed an extra night to regain my strength and alter my route through northern Arizona.

[faustour-blog]

Day 19: Milford, Utah --> Cedar City, Utah Rode 35 miles Monday, Nov. 21, 2016 - Stayed near Cedar City with a WarmShowers Host (Lynn and his son Ian). - Got a ride from a rancher named David 20 miles out of Cedar City. This was the first time anyone offered me a lift this entire trip so I happily took up the offer. David was generous and kind-hearted - he gave me Leche candy, an apple, and a fresh $100 bill). - On Tuesday the 22nd I camped out 12 miles west of Cedar City at the Three Peaks Mountain Range. A local bike shop owner named Brian advised I camp at this spot due to its proximity to Cedar City. - I had to stay in town an extra day to get a new pair of tires (my original ones were giving me 3 too many flats and I wanted some mechanical peace of mind). - On Wednesday the 23rd I biked from Cedar City to Kanaaraville. Wherein I stayed at a RV Park cabin (which was actually just a retro-fitted garden shed with bunk beds and a mini space heater).