Today: 52 Miles - AVG Speed: 11.2 MPM - Top Speed: 36.3MPH
Total: 5,447.10

Ok, perhaps I was a little down in the dumps yesterday. With the benefit of hindsight I can see why it was all so anti-climactic. From the very beginning the aim had been to get to San Francisco, and moving the goalposts at such a late stage had meant that I’d forced myself into purgatory pre-completion. I had not finished yesterday. Today, we have.

I was out of the door by 10 o’clock. This gave me three hours to get to San Francisco based on my estimate of a 33 mile trip. The very first issue of the day, though, was the steepest climb of the tour. It was only half-a-mile or thereabouts, but at a grade of 17%. I knew it would be hard as I struggled to control Betty on the descent last night. After being out of my seat in the lowest gear and grinding to the top it hit me that we still had some work to do, but I was grateful for this chore, as to finish the ride with an easy glide to San Francisco would’ve felt too easy. After 20 miles through some hilly woodland we came to an opening. The opening was the Pacific, and California State Highway 1 hugged the coast at sea level for the first 10 miles. A cool breeze hit me, and for the first time in a long time, conditions were absolutely perfect. We meandered around beaches and then up some extremely steep climbs, but the views they offered made all the effort seem worthwhile, not just of this morning, but of the last three months. The only problem was that I had chatted to another cyclist at the top of cliff and he told me I was still 90 minutes from San Francisco. That made me two hours late to meet my mother. Whoops.

Well, we continued along the coast and then into Sausalito, the Mediterranean styled marina town opposite San Francisco. From here I had my first glance of the city. Now the feelings were there. This was what I had been waiting for. Happiness, serenity, the sense of a job done. The ride over the Golden Gate Bridge was the most fitting way to finish. To ride across one of the worlds most iconic man-made structures after months riding through towns and lands barely touched by man hit me hard. 3 months, 5,000+ miles through hard rain, frosty altitudes, mountain climbs, sweltering desert and obscenely beautiful natural parks was nearing the end. It was without doubt the most satisfied I had ever felt from finishing a task. The America’s Cup is currently on in this great city, and as a result it is as busy as I have ever seen the place. Deck-shoed yacht enthusiasts jostled for position to overlook the racing machines around the bay, and the traffic on the roads was just as obstructive. This made the last 4 miles from the bridge to my mother’s hotel a one hour journey and the most intense hour of the entire trip, I had to have full concentration to snake my way through the crowds. The last thing I wanted to do was to crush some rich-ladys pug with thirty minutes to go, that would've put a right downer on the day. I crawled along the Embarcadero to get onto Market Street and after 20 blocks or so I saw the familiar face of Chris and one pale hand raised to the sky. The pale hand of a mother. Smiling and waving with all the joy and relief that only a mother could have at seeing her only son in one, malnourished, ginger-bearded piece. The three of us embraced and that was that. A fitting finale.

Three years ago when the idea first appeared I made a snap decision to go-ahead with it. There was never a question of bravery because I didn’t weigh up the options. It was an epiphanal challenge and, being an impulsive man, I just said "yes" (to myself). There were some delays in getting the ball rolling, but two years ago I set the date and it has remained in place since then. I now realise that all the planning and dreaming has also been a part of the ride. It was more than just cycling.

Some of my friends make a siren noise when I announce a new interest. They call it “phase alert”. These phases have included:

Painting
Ice Skating
Stand-up comedy
Healthy living (smoothies, etc)
Learning French
Gym Membership

All of which and countless more (they really are countless, my housemate kept a journal and he keeps adding to them) held my interest for a short while before I got bored and moved on. Basically, I never complete anything, but at least I've kept true to this ambition. I didn’t ask much from this tour, but I’ve received more than I could’ve imagined. Mostly, though, a passion for cycling that I know is here to stay. Apart from being with friends, riding until exhaustion is my greatest pleasure. The freedom of mind when setting out every day holds such power over me now that I will never stop getting on the bike. I have, at last, a great active passion in life.

If I could just leave you with this: it's advisable never to be too earnest in endeavour. The real thrill is soaking up the lows, mundane and exceptionally beautiful with one ironic eye and the other focused on reality. It took me a few days to learn that what is most important is to step away from the story book and into the documentary. Truth is greater, and far more powerful than fiction. 

Stats
Countries: 2
States: 16
Riding Days: 69
Daily Average: 78.8 Miles
Longest day: 200 Miles
Shortest day: 21.2 Miles
Total Miles: 5,347.00
Punctures: 9
Tires: 6 (2 front, 4 rear)
Racks: 2
Handlebars: 2
Wheels 3: (1 front, 2 rear)
Crashes: 1
Beards: 1
Meals paid for by public: 4
On the road donations: 3 (Steve in Kentucky, Diane in Utah and a sexy, cool couple in a jeep in California)

Nutshell
Favourite State: Utah for the scenery and parks, Maine for the people.
Least Favourite State: Illinois, but the storms and humidity didn't help, neither did the ridiculous over-emphasis on Popeye in Chester.
Best Day: The final day for the coastal road and feeling of achievement, but Day 51, Torrey to Escalante was incredible for the climbs, views and sheer diversity in nature from start to finish.
Worst day: You'd think crash day would clinch this, but before the tumble it was up there with the best. The dehydration day was scary, but for total horror, day 6 to Bethel in Vermont was absolutely shit. Never seen rain like it.

Finally...
This has all been in aid of charity. If any of you who have enjoyed this blog - or are just glad it's over - can spare some hard earned cash, you can still donate to mind here.


Thanks for reading,
LC.

Today: 76 Miles – AVG Speed: 14.2MPH – Top Speed: 40.2MPH
Total: 5,395 Miles

How do you finish something without actually finishing it? This is how.

The goal when this trip was first imagined was Atlantic to Pacific, coast-to-coast, ocean to ocean. Today we completed that, but the feeling of a job done wasn't there. It was a beautiful day. I couldn’t have handpicked better conditions in which to finish. There were no clouds and the temperature hovered at around 90 degrees. The wind was minimal and the topography had enough variation to be interesting, but not too wild to induce pain or frustration. In other words, as perfect day as I could've wished for.

With six miles before reaching the coast I popped into a supermarket for a bottle of wine, cheese, salami, biscuits and fresh tomatoes. I wanted to relax at the beach in comfort and had envisaged an evening of watching the sun go down with a glass of red.

After checking in at the hostel and showering I began the final two miles to the beach and after navigating over a tricky rock surface and some loose sand, that was it. I was there. All done. The ocean was as large as oceans tend to be, and the beach was empty except for a romantic couple and an elderly man with his aging black labrador. I paced back and forth with the tide and stood motionless as the waves softened the sand below my feet. It was serene, but I’m not sure what I was expecting to think. Tears or triumph, perhaps, but in all honesty it was an anti-climax, and I think that’s because I was alone. Tomorrow, I‘ll be finishing this thing properly in San Francisco and seeing the friendly face they gave life to this confused one, but if today proves anything, it’s that achievement is nothing if experienced alone, and I’ve learnt that the hard way. Maybe, though, it’s just that any symbolic arrival can’t nearly match the highs of the journey itself, and that what should be sought is the pride and exultation of endeavour, rather than the glory of success. Tomorrow we will finish this thing, Betty and I. Then, perhaps, we'll have that feeling.

Plus flies and a weird jumping bug thing made my tomatoes their home for the night.

Today: 59 Miles – AVG Speed: 12.6MPH  -Top Speed: 28.6 MPH
Total: 5,320.70

We are inching ever closer with a comfortable 59 miles today, but guess who we met last night. Only Matthias. He sent me a message in the late afternoon telling me he was in Sacramento for the night. He’d learnt from his Carson City errors, though, and we both abstained from imbibing any intoxicating liquids.

He had gone early this morning, true to his word, and only 48 hours late getting ahead of Betty and me. I suppose that’s success. I didn’t get on the road until about 10:30 as I knew it would be easy enough today, but I was slightly delayed as Betty had a puncture that needed fixing, I would’ve thought she would have learned how to do it herself by now, but it’s getting a bit late in the day for bollockings, wouldn’t you say. Any unresolved issues we have will have to stay that way, I want to enjoy these last few days with her.

Once we were repaired the day was easy. Gorgeous blue skies without a cloud in sight and very little wind until late afternoon. We made a quick pit-stop in Davis for breakfast and to pick up some inner tubes in case the old mare fails to avoid any nasty thorns in the remaining days. Davis is known as the Bike Capital of America. Granted, this is a self-proclaimed title, but it’s probably worthy. It lays claim to being the first town in the US to create bike lanes in the 60’s and is also home to the University of California, and many of the students seemed to be on two wheels during my brief loiter. It is also home to the United States Bicycling Hall of Fame, but it’s only open on a Wednesday and a Saturday, so I didn’t get a chance to go in for some carbon fibre-perving.

The last 45 miles of the day were spent riding through rolling countryside of fruit orchards. Everywhere I looked there was a semi-ripe something-or-other hanging from the branches. The trees created a natural lengthy atrium over the narrower roads, which created natural shade from the heat and offered a picturesque ride.

We arrived in Fairfield at about 3:30pm. Well, kind of arrived here as the town just creeps up on you. It is one of those sprawling suburban places choc-full of gated communities and a shopping mall, but no real heart. The people are nice, though, one kid of 15 even said he liked my beard. It takes real character to lie like that to someone’s face, so there must be some soul here, but I’m glad I haven’t had to endure too many towns of this type thus far. The bonus is that they have a cinema, and I’m going to go along tonight. I haven’t seen a film on the big screen since I departed, and I fancy a treat. The Butler starring Oprah Winfrey and Forest Whitaker's eye is on. Should be good. Bit of black power and that, being in the senate yesterday has got me all riled up. Viva La Revolucion!

Tomorrow, we will hit the coast to complete the trip from ocean to ocean, which will leave only the formality of a short ride of 30 miles over the Golden Gate Bridge and into San Francisco the following day to end the tour. Just two more days and 100 miles remain. Wish us luck.

Today: 111.2 Miles - AVG Speed: 14.6 MPH - Top Speed: 41.2MPH
Total: 5,261.2 Miles

How nice to awake in a beautiful cabin. To be honest, it's where a man of my venerable character and Betty's sultry struts should be staying every night, but that's not the point of the tour, is it. We are supposed to be living hard - ish.

The morning was spent in the mountains as we negotiated some minor climbs before the long descent. That’s an 8,000 foot descent over 50-odd miles, for the record. Which makes the 110 mile day less impressive as about 40% involved no pedalling at all. I felt vindicated in staying in The Sierras last night as the views on the lakes and immediate forest were stunning in the morning light, even if the distant mountains and trees were almost undetectable due to the smoke from the North Rim fire.

As I reached the foothills of the Sierras everything had changed, I was now in gorgeous rolling countryside where there were vineyards everywhere and towns aplenty. The first of these towns was Placerville, made famous by the movie Amercian Graffiti that was set in Mel’s Diner and also, incidentally, where I ate lunch. The film means nothing to me, in truth, but for anyone from an older generation (old people), it may ring a bell. I’d given up on the granola, too, it may not be good for me, but a few more days of high-cholesterol food won’t do any more damage. A double burger and other fatty things, it was.

I then hit Folsom, famous for it’s state prison, which was built after being inspired by a Johnny Cash song. I had reckoned on staying in Folsom, but accommodation was at a premium, as were the prices. So, another 25 miles to Sacramento, but it meant a ride along a path parallel to the American River, which meant no traffic and therefore, no pressure. I got chatting to Lois near the city as I asked for directions, she was very friendly and had done some bike tours of her own, it was another example of people being generous with their time, and there’s no doubt that is what I’ll miss most when I hang my panniers up.

I arrived in the hostel just before sunset and the building was just as grand as many I had passed on the long street to get here. All the residential buildings had unique architecture and there was little separation between the housing and business district. These blurred lines were refreshing.

I decided on staying for the day in Sacramento. It is the California State Capital after all, and I doubt I would ever be coming back unless I get the nod for governor. 

I spent the morning at two museums. The first was the California State Railroad Museum. I have little/zero interest in trains, but it had come recommended and I wasn't disappointed. Housed in the enormous building were dozens of real carriages from the 1800's up unto the present day. The layout of the place was astonishing and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. There are some criticisms to be made over corporate sponsorship of their laughably bad 22 minute film on the history of the pacific railroad or anything like an objective profile of the four barons who made it happen, let alone mention of those who perished in it's construction, but I would highly recommend it for a visit if you're ever here. As I would a good look around the reconstructed Old Town of Sacramento where the museum sits. It is a bit of a tourist trap, yes, but the buildings are magnificent, and if you can just suspend your disbelief for a few moments, you'll be sure to be transported back in time for a bit.

After here I went to the state capital building/museum, which I didn't enjoy as much from an educational or astonishment standpoint, but it was a treat to go into the senate to see where they do business. 

So, tomorrow we'll be on the road again. Less than 200 miles remaining and I've finally learnt something. That's a relief.

Today: 61.7MPH  AVG Speed: 9.6MPH Top Speed: 21.2MPH
Total: 5,150.2 Miles

So with that uneventful roll from rough asphalt to smooth, we are in the final state of the tour. The Golden State, California. It’s amazing how quickly what once was anticipated with relish can become the very thing you despise. That’s how I feel about Nevada. From Utah, I was desperate to be in a state with looser morals, not just geographically, but psychologically, too. However, after just a few days it had become loathsome, having said that, my outlook may owe something to enjoying Nevada’s excesses a little too much last night.

It was due to be Matthias and my final evening together as he was due out at 6am. To celebrate our few days on the road we decided to have a few beers whilst Matthias schooled me in German underground techno for a bit. It may have been the music, the beer or both, but something set off a spark in my German friend. No, not that, this:

“Hey, let’s go to the casino” he said.

I was in no mood to put the brakes on the party, so I agreed on the one condition that we went in there wearing only our cycling gear and flip-flops. This shouldn’t last too long, I thought. I was wrong.

I had imagined that our run-down, slightly intoxicated appearance would’ve have precluded us from the casino floor, but then I realised we were in Nevada, not Casino Royale. The staff welcomed us with open arms. This despite Matthias exchanging a Wal-Mart bag full of quarters and me demanding that we be given free drinks as we were ‘high-rollers”, or something to that effect. To my surprise they agreed, feeding us with Jack Daniel’s and Coke whilst we very slowly deposited our designated $10 gambling spend. It was the cheapest night out I have had.

We were probably only there for 2 hours, but the strength of the drinks had sent us over the edge, I think we got back to the motel at 3. I briefly remember falling onto the bed. 6 hours later I woke up fully clothed and feeling worse for wear. Actually, scrap that, I felt fupping atrocious.

Matthias was up, though, full of the joys of spring, so he was. “I’m off” he said. But just 5 minutes later he returned to the room saying the hangover was hitting, then he was sick, and that’s all she wrote for Matthias. I, on the other hand, was feeling much better and began to pack. The poor bugger had to stay another night whilst I hit the road, we said our goodbyes and I felt very, very bad for a very, very short period of time.

After 12 miles or so the fresh mountain air from the sierras began to make my head swirl, and although I wasn’t physically sick, my noggin was thumping. This is a fine lesson in going easy before a day’s bike riding. The greatest problem was that today was the final big climb of the trip and one of the longest at 4,000 feet. I was not going well, but I was going. The one antidote, though, (and please excuse this saccharine line) was the nature. I had given the Sierras no thought at all, all my mountain related foresight had gone into the more famous Rockies and soda-pop drink, Dew, but my lack of expectation was to serve me well. The vegetation and variation of colour shocked me. Golden fields blended with rich, green, towering trees and the bright yellow flowers and purple thistles held me encapsulated, it was a welcome distraction from my still prominent head-ache, harsh winds and barely-functional limbs. Then, with 500 feet more of climbing a lake appeared to my left. At 8,000 bloody feet. It’s grace was insurmountable, until I reached the pass, punched the air, began a small descent, and saw another. This time it was Caples Lake, all of this surrounded by the jutting granite of the Sierras. It was about now that I noticed the sun-setting, I had started late, and doubted if I could descend quick enough to make a campsite at reasonable altitude, and also temperature. It was getting cold. I decided, at long last, to use my Get Out of Jail fee Card from Coy! I didn’t think I’d need it, in truth, but I’m glad the offer had been made. I found a lodge perched over Silver Lake. It was the most spectacular of settings, and as the sun set over this beautiful body of water I was relieved to be here and not in a casino.

Today: 63 Miles  - AVG Speed: 11.4MPH  - Top Speed: 34.3MPH
Total: 5,089.5 Miles

It was a struggle looking for a diner in Fallon this morning. A town of 8,500 people should have a few options, but no. It had one option according to both a typed google search and the use of Siri, which I know is basically the same thing, but I needed to check with that bloke from The Weakest Link, if only to arouse pleasant memories of lonely Tuesday afternoons spent salivating over that pension collecting sexpot, Anne Robinson.

Unsurprisingly, seeing as we’re in Nevada, the spot we found was inside a casino. The food was very good, but it was a bizarre sensation eating in a dark room while just meters away the rhythmic electronic bleeps of slot machines were doing their best to entice spirit drinking patrons to continue spending at 10am on a Sunday morning. It is a shame to see so many people living their weekends this way, and if that sounds a little pious, then take pleasure in knowing that Matthias and I also tried to spend our loose quarters in these machines, and I did have a beer for breakfast at the motel, but as I’ve told you before, it neutralises the lactic acid and as my dad would say (over and over and over again) “It’s medicinal, son”.

The first 40 miles of the day were great, we had a gentle breeze and the heat was acceptable, but at 2:00pm as we were just 25 miles from the Nevada state capital, Carson City, the smoke from the Yosemite wildfire began to engulf us, this wasn’t like standing next to a bellowing campfire as I had naively anticipated, but there was, and still is, a thick haze all around us, visibility is down to about 1 mile and the Sierra Nevada mountains are almost undetectable. The is massively disappointing as I had wished to experience the splendour of Lake Tahoe tomorrow, but I have been told not to bother going as the views will be diminished and my perception of the place won’t be a good one. It is fair to say, though, that any regrets I may have had have been firmly put in perspective, as there are many small towns and rural retreats in grave danger, not to mention the blow to the ecosystem and tourism of the region. Well, onwards and upwards, quite literally, as tomorrow I will be ascending the final mountain climb of the tour. It’s a 4,000 foot climb over the Carson pass and I can’t wait for the opportunity to push myself. I will be pushing myself alone, though, as Matthias is leaving early to get in a 140-mile day. It will be a shame to say goodbye to him. As I type he is taking photos of the sky with his stern eyes and blaring out some very infectious techno from his homeland. That’s Matthias for you: snapping and raving, raving and snapping. Great stuff.

Today: 117.6 Miles – AVG Speed: 14.2MPH – Top Speed: 32.6MPH
Total: 5,026.2 Miles


So the final century of the tour was completed today. 117 miles and temperatures that didn’t seem too far from that figure at one stage, either.



We planned to be up at 5am today. That may seem borderline madness to you, but Matthias is a very convincing chap when setting out an argument for something he believes in.

“I’m leaving at 6am tomorrow, you can come if you like” was just one of the subtle mind games he used to sell in this particular plan.

Well, we were true to our word and up before the sunrise. As most of you will be aware, the sun is quite hot, you could say notoriously so, and when it is hidden behind mountains in the early hours of the morning, that heat is sorely missed. Bearing in mind we were 6,605 feet above sea-level, those early hours were bloody nippy. Not that temperature extremes were going to get in the way of this fashion show, though. Matthias wrapped up in a very fetching vomit-green anorak to stave of the cold, and I, well I hadn’t planned too well for cold weather, so I wore two t-shirts, which proved ineffective in the battle against the cold, especially in the finger area, but as we well knew, as the morning wore on, the heat would increase, and so it did. Luckily, we managed to negotiate the main climb of the day before 12pm so things were pretty comfortable and before long we were 65 miles down and ready for a spot of lunch in the old trading post town of Middlegate. After lunch, the roads we were travelling became far more desert-like, and that can only mean white sand. We ventured onto one of the dry lakes and the heat was far mor intense than on the road just a few feet above, the sweat was pouring off of us as the sun bounced off the white surface, and as we were at 2,000 feet lower elevation than first thing, the moisture in the air was thicker, too. We were both getting sore throats due to the rapid draining of water from our bodies, and although we weren’t close to dehydration, it did create some unwelcome flashbacks to the Monument Valley debacle.

Now, it’s not been often, if at all, on this tour where the size of the task has seemed trivial, but today was one of those occasions. Just after we had passed the 100 mile mark we spotted a red mirage floating across the desert floor. As it camed closer we realised it was a man. Jogging. In a red jump suit.

‘What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted. 

Excuse my language, but I’ve learned it’s a good way of grabbing someone’s attention. Luckily for us, the gentleman was from Australia, where swear words are not only accepted, but looked upon as a measure of strong character. We started talking and the man in question was Mark Gibbens who is one week into his WALK across America. That’s right, he’s walking from San Francisco to New York for charity in a bloody superheroes outfit. It was gobsmacking how someone could put themselves through such physical hardship, especially in the desert. After chatting for a bit, we left Mark to perish as we ploughed on.

We have now arrived in Fallon which is like Las Vegas but without any of the charm or sophistication, come to think of it, Las Vegas doesn’t have those things, either, but let’s just say Fallon has even less of these low-levels of desirable characeteristics. That's low. From here on the sparseness is over, I’ll be encountering towns fairly regularly which will make a welcome change from the wilderness, but the last few weeks away from constant civilisation has been incredible. To see so much of so little has been a welcome reminder that not all of our planet has been mutilated by human hands, and in many cases in the United States, it has been preserved beautifully. Take a bow you starry striped bastard. Take a bow.

Today: 71.4 Miles – AVG Speed: 10.1MPH – Top Speed: 34.3MPH
Total: 4,909.80

It’s Matthias and I on the road again. Are you getting a good feel for his character, yet? If not, I’m going to ignore the standard literary advice of building a character over time through dialogue and just give you a run-down.



1.     At aged just 21 Matthias has already completed two long tours around California and this is his third and longest tour.

2.     He always has pancakes for breakfast, despite advice on the contrary.

3.     “They have wi-fi, but it’s very poor” has become somewhat of a catchphrase.

4.     “I hate Nevada” is another.

5.     As is “You call me disgusting”. I’ll leave this one to your imagination.

We started in some kind of religious delicatessen for breakfast where I had a burrito and Matthias had some you-know-whats. After some unsatisfactory internetting we were on our way, beginning with a gentle downhill and into a 45 mile flat. I’ll admit fault here, this road has become considerably lonelier the further we travel on it, maybe it is even the loneliest. I feel terrible about advocating the sacking of this wonderfully accurate employee now, and even musing on whether they're still alive. If sir/madam, you are still alive and reading this, I can't tell you how happy that makes me (very).

Today, we were in the desert proper and there wasn’t much to see except for big skies and sand, although we did get to spot three antelopes chasing each other by the road, it was pretty impressive watching these sprightly mammals kicking up dust so close to us yet so far away from anything else, but the splendour was too rapid to be captured by my spaz hand searching for a camera. Still, the eyes have it.

The final 20 miles were spent grinding uphill, and yet again, I enjoyed it. Firstly, the temperature cooled as we were gaining elevation, and also, the landscape had more vegetation than earlier in the day. As impressive as the high desert is, it signifies death, so the trees and shade made a welcome change.

We could also hear explosions near us. At first, I assumed it was a quarry, but the noise was too great for it to be mining. Then we noticed fighter jets ahead and guessed they were test-dropping bombs, but eventually, we came to the conclusion that this was the sound of fighter jets hitting sonic boom - please bear in mind this conclusion was drawn with zero year’s cumulative aviation experience. If anyone with experience of the air-force and/or the audibles of the Nevada desert can confirm or deny this, then please, step-forward.

After 70 miles we began the winding descent to Austin and it is a strange place. It’s a little like Eureka, but without the niceties. I went into a bar to get a couple of take-way beers and was treated with as much disdain as I have been subject to so far, then the same thing when we went for dinner. Despite this indifference towards us, I still like the place in a curious sense. It has character. It clearly doesn’t have much industry or wealth, an observation cemented with knowledge that that the population is 160. Down from 8,000 during the gold and silver rush. Not exactly booming.

Finally, those of you who follow International news will be aware of the enormous wildfire near Yosemite National Park. So far it has scorched 350 square miles of woodland. The smoke is visible for hundreds of miles in every direction and can already lay claim to being California's fourth largest fire of all time. When we arrive in Fallon tomorrow we’re told the smoke will be in our faces and up our noses, but we can see in the valley below that it is already arriving. Whatever the experience tomorrow it should be novel, and most likely, crap. But with 7 days remaining, I’m just trying to enjoy every moment on the bike, obscured or otherwise.

Today: 79.2 Miles – AVG Speed: 11.8MPH – Top Speed: 34.8MPH
Total: 4,837.2

Mexican was the cuisine of choice last night. We had a few options in the outpost of Ely, but Matthias and I decided on some spicy meats from our friends south of the border. Now, I know this information is about as interesting as an actual conversation about food, but hold on, because I haven’t bloody finished. When we sat down were immediately engaged by two chaps and a lady when Matthias and I told them about our trips.




“I gotta say, it’s just great meeting you here, I met an Australian guy forty years ago when I was stationed in Germany. You guys are just so friendly” 

“Yeah, I‘m er, English, actually”

“Oh really, I’m sure I detected and Australian accent”

“Don’t worry, mate, it happens”

two minutes later, another elderly gent wanders over...

“I couldn’t help but hear you when you walked in, I just wanted to say that the Australians were the best fighters I ever came across, they just wouldn’t back down”

“That’s great, but I’m not….nevermind”

Luckily it was just the two incidents today, but it is becoming something of a theme, is it not? Anyhow, the original three to who we were talking left after about thirty minutes so Matthias and I chewed the fat over a Tecate when we asked for the bill. Just as we were opening our wallets, our waitress informed us that our new friends had paid for our entire meal and drinks. This wasn’t the first time either of us had been on the receiving end of such generosity, but it never ceases to amaze. Bloody nice people out here.

Anyway, that was last night, and this blog was clearly about today, so I'll tell you about that now. There were more climbs and valleys as Matthias, Betty and I (Matthias hasn’t named his bike, it would be un-German) continued through the basin ranges of Nevada’s high desert. There were four ascents to negotiate, and unlike yesterday Matthias seemed to have the measure of them and me. This Teutonic machine had regained his lost strength and seemed intent on showing me who’s boss. Still, it was a good day along the Loneliest Road in America, which has got a little lonelier, actually, but I don't retract yesterdays statement regarding unceremoniously firing the fraudulent slogan creator at Life magazine. If you're going to give something a catchy name, then you should have quantifiable evidence for it, rather than thoughtlessly saying things that allow unscrupulous tourist boards to appropriate it for marketing. I'm sorry if that seems harsh, but it's just the way the Lycra Cowboy (Creator and Owner of THE best travel blog being written in America*) feels.

We arrived in Eureka at about 6pm as the sun was setting and the town certainly has one of the strongest Western feels of any I’ve been in so far. There are plenty of wood-faced buildings and older men sporting stetsons and driving 1970’s models of pick up trucks.

We’ve just got back to our motel from an outrageously large and fattening meal that has satisfied us both. Hopefully the fatboy banana split will slow him down tomorrow. Betty and I can't have another episode like today, it's the first time I've seen her so shaken, perhaps she just needs some TLC.


*copyright pending approval

Today: 61 Miles: AVG Speed: 9.6MPH – Top Speed: 34.2MPH
Total: 4,758.6 Miles

I woke up with my eyelids welded shut from bacterial gunk this morning. Yeah, I know, nice, right? I had two choices, either take a day off or roll on half-blind. Well, after the five day hand hiatus I am up against it. Betty and I must be in San Francisco next Saturday to meet my mother and her victorious suitor, Chris. If we don’t they’ll be walking around like a pair of bewildered geese searching for a thawed spot in the canal during a Canadian winter. They could drown for christ’s sakes. I cannot let this happen. Also, I had a date to keep with Matthias so my mind was made-up, I would cover the eye with a makeshift bandage to protect it from light and dust, and utilise my new friend as a human white stick, guiding me around any potholes or glass or whatever. 

We met for breakfast where I, for the first time on this trip, opted for granola and yoghurt. All the crap I’d been eating recently had been making me feel a little lethargic so I decided to go for health. We set off and it was hard to get used to the old one-eye business at first as my depth perception wasn’t what it could be with two functioning eyes. What I didn’t expect out of this day is how tough it would be. Only 61 miles, but it was extremely taxing.  After a couple of miles we were on Highway 50, a road once dubbed The Loneliest Highway in America by one Life magazine photographer in the 1980’s. Well, whoever it was, they’re full of shit. It wasn’t exactly brimming with traffic, but I’ve been on much quieter roads on this tour so far. Life should find this person and fire them. Unless they’re dead, of course.

Anyway, the morning was spent on a climb in the searing heat, and just when we turned a corner for a downhill and a flat, gale force Amerciana winds battered our beautiful European faces. We were both battling, but Matthias was in particularly bad shape after his gruelling 150 miler yesterday. We eventually made it to some creepy Trading Post for a microwaved burrito, though. Yum.

After this chewy snack we continued with the final 5 mile climb of the day before 21 miles of downhill and flats to Ely. The climb was easy enough, but when we arrived on top of the Connors Summit the valley below was dominated by an enormous storm cloud. We got to the bottom of the valley and decided to play a strategic game, we couldn’t ride into the storm, but there was also one behind us rapidly gaining size and speed. We had to sandwich ourselves in between the two beasts, watching lightening strike around us, all the while avoiding the storms. We were, at one stage, out running the shadowy oppressor behind us. It was exhilarating.

After over 7 hours of riding we arrived in Ely, struck a deal in a Motel 6 and we are celebrating a hard day with a cold beer, just the way it should be. The only problem is that my right eye is still as red as a baboons arse. I eagerly await the next ailment.