It has been announced

Yesterday President Barack Obama pledged to attend day three of the UN Climate Change Conference and join over 60 world leaders in Copenhagen. As the most recent Nobel Peace Prize winner he has been receiving pressure with less than two weeks before the COP15 talks begin. I wish to thank the 461 of you who have signed this online petition demanding that the climate be a top priority.

Greenpeace USA is now creating a surge by calling on the President to sign a binding climate treaty. Please go to greenpeace.org/sign to add your name to the international petition on the eve of this momentous occasion.

Additionally, a day of action is scheduled in several states this Monday, November 30. The Mobilization for Climate Justice is orchestrating the action dubbed N30 and this will likely be America's last opportunity to rally at a national level prior to COP15. San Francisco, Chicago, and New York have demonstrations scheduled with rumors of a Washington DC collective starting to mobilize. Coincidentally, this is the tenth anniversary of the World Trade Organization protest in Seattle. Visit actforclimatejustice.org for more information and learn how to participate.

And finally a personal request. Refer at least one person to review, and hopefully sign, this petition. It helped inspire me to pedal 4400 miles through 13 states in 70 days and I hope it inspires you too.

Rise up

Warm thoughts during a cold end

North Carolina was a blur of autumn colors accompanied with rainclouds. On Saturday, I rode 130 miles to Rocky Mount and watched high school baseball while the full moon rose. Earlier in the day I had the opportunity too visit the world's largest frying pan in Rose Hill and watched an entertaining ensamble perform at the town's Halloween festival.

Sunday brought rain yet I still made it to Weldon. Not much going on there either but I was entertained by the bartender's attempt to monitor her toddler during the evening football game.

Today's overcast skies and cold breeze made me thankful that I'm within hours of finishing this ride. The finish might be a bit anticlimactic, but I have plenty of memories, and a few new mates, that I'm thankful for. Reality already seeps in as I hunt for apartments and job openings this week. Now, with my last bits of online patience, I can say this will be my final blog from the road. Thanks to all of you for your direct, and at times indirect, support. While focusing on the journey through this country I ended up taking an even greater journey through my self. And now at the destination the next journey commences....

C-town: SF's Southeastern sister

I made it into Beaufort early. A town older than the United States, the regal houses on Bay Street have overlooked the river for centuries. And while enjoying a fruit salad at on a cafe porch, a gentleman inquired about my excursion while informing me about his upcoming bike/kayak adventure.

Still with 70 miles to pedal to Charleston, I arrived at sunset and found my hostel without any issue. It was a full house when I arrived and I quickly made several aquaintence. Within 24 hours I had a posse and the six of us raised hell for the ensuing 48 hours. Two left the hostel on Monday to move into their own apartment a few blocks away (a wonderful place to relax away from the backpacker atmosphere). Two others received citations for urinating in public on Monday evening. And one guy from England educated me about American football. Apparently he's quite the fanatic. He founded a club team in the UK and now is trying to attend some NFL games while he's in the States.

After letting Tuesday night's rain pass, I awoke late, took some time for bike repairs, and met the group for breakfast at Hominy. It proved to be hands-down the best meal of the ride in the best city of the ride.

Smiling faces. Beautiful Places.

The historical tour around Savannah was very educational as well as entertaining. I was particularly impressed with the city's twenty-one squares where people could congregate and relax. They reminded me of Golden Gate Park's panhandle except smaller and more abundant. River Street seemed to be the place to let loose at any hour and Forsyth Park, originally a military parade ground, was an epicenter of tranquility in this slow-moving metropolis.

I made myself carry-on after just a twenty-four hour layover and found myself in a town called Blufton by day's end. At Pepper's Porch I befriended a Michigan transplant; possibly the only other non-native in town. And following the advice of the friendly waitstaff, I headed down to the wharf to set up camp in an open field. Closing my eyes on this Saturday evening, I hear some locals getting rowdy Under the Table and Dreaming....

Sea to shining sea, almost

Georgia has many varieties of birds. Yesterday a bright cardinal caught my attention as I cruised down US-280. Today, a flock of large white birds flew in a low formation late in the afternoon. Both times I pulled over to witness the event but was not handy enough with the camera to catch them.

This region also has a wide variety of trees. With all the logging trucks kicking up sawdust in my face, I am still able to check out the trees growing out of the rivers and the ones completly covered with ivy. In fact, it's quite amazing when I glance to the side and see nothing but ivy growing higher than roadside telephone poles. For the most part everything is green but just a few hours ago I did notice the first traces of autumn colors.

The smell of pine in the morning is something I will always enjoy. But it's when I unexpectedly pass through a stretch of highly fragerant flowers that brings a smile to my face. It's especially true when the flowers are not visible from the road and I feel a bit sorry for all the drivers that miss out.

Yesterday I stopped in Cuthbert for a quick bite and was impressed by the town's historic layout. Similar to Eufaula, this town preserves their local atmosphere near the town square while keeping the chain restaurants at bay along the highway. The statue of a Confederate soldier faced north; always on guard. When passing through Mt. Vernon, I couldn't help but notice the beautiful historical architecture and in Vidalia, I stopped long enough to learn the rich history of their prized export: the vidalia onion. I decided to pass on the Thursday night wet T-shirt contest in neighboring Lyons and called it an early evening behind a church that had only a few cockroaches.

This morning's brief stop landed me in Claxton: the world's fruitcake capitol. I of course had to try the fare at the Georgia Fruitcake Company and was a bit surprised that when it is made with care in small batches, it still tastes like fruitcake. I guess it's a Southern thing. The eggplant parmesan sandwhich at LIPS (Little Italy Pizza & Subs) in Pooler however was quite tasty.

I arrived in Savannah (situated just ten miles west of the Atlantic) a few hours ago and my jaw dropped as I entered the historical district. With brick streets and large old buildings, it's a real blessing this town was spared during the Civil War. Now, joined by a few European students, I walk down to River Street which apparently is a miniature Bourbon Street. My expectations are low however, which usually means I have a pretty good time.

Sweet Alabama

I was in Alabama for a week back in the seventh grade for Space Camp but that didn't portray this friendly state as well as these past few days.

Yesterday morning in Canoe I met a group of locals who filled me in about the one earthquake they had a few years back and the current unseasonable weather patterns. "Have you ever heard of Burlingame," one man asked. "Because I was there once." Small world.

In Elba, I was awoken by the police in the middle of the night because of my unorthodox campsite (behind a restaurant). However, after learning what my endeavor is they became quite chatty asking how many tires I had gone through and why I didn't choose a Harley instead. Eventually they let me return to my slumber.

Today in Eufaula, I ate stromboli at a local shop. The owner turned out to be younger than I and her older cousin and I really hit it off. He informed me about the nearby Shorter Mansion (as seen in the flick Sweet Home Alabama) and after insisting I didn't need any provisions for the road I grabbed a drink at a local tavern on their historic main boulevard.

Crossing the border into Georgia on the MLK Causeway, clear skies and warm weather were a welcome change. After setting my clock ahead for the final time, the only concern I have as I lay near Lake Eufaula is if an alligator wakes me up this evening. Hopefully not.

A lesson from the road

I didn't sleep well last night. It might have been because there was a huge radio tower overhead in Ocean Springs that had a sign warning me that the freqiencies in the area exceeded FCC regulations. Back on the road, I noticed the time on a marquee: 12:30am.

Because it was a Saturday night and there were numerous casinos around, I thought it would be best to get off the road until later in the night, even with all the street lights around.

After a late night breakfast and catching up on the news, I continued east to the border. Once in Alabama, I found a roadside spot to nap until sunrise. When I awoke, it was freezing and on the road I was greeted with a cold headwind. It lasted throughout the day forcing me to stop frequently to warm up. At least it wasn't raining.

Calculating the milage, it appears that I'm just 12 days from the Capitol. Rain is expected in the region later this week which might slow me down a bit, but it appears that the end is in sight.

Initially a physical endeavor, this ride has proven to be more of a mental challenge as of late. It wasn't until recently that I've discovered that I have supporters everywhere. It's something I must manifest and allow to happen instead of being strong and independent. And at times it appears my mind - and my mindset - can be my own worst enemy. It's not until I'm able to make a paradigm shift that continuing on seems plausible. It seems I'm learning many lessons on multiple levels.

A second (or third) wind

I woke up this morning at Fort Pike State Historical Site just off US-90 approximately 30 miles east of New Orleans. My morning ride was on a narrow strip of land straddling Lakes Pontchartrain and Borgne and I couldn't help but predict that if sea levels do rise in the future, this will surely be one of the first spots on the globe that will be affected.

In Bay St. Louis I stopped for a quick breakfast and learned that the eye of Katrina actually hit this Biloxi suburb. Many reconstructive efforts are still underway and the actual highway looked as if was recently paved.

Stooping in Biloxi, I met my friend A and she took me on an architectural tour of the tri-county coastline. We ate at a new restaurant that could compete with Mixt and chatted about the last six years. (We last saw each other at Pres. Bush's second inauguration.)

Over the past couple of weeks I have been feeling the 3100 previous miles weighing me down. But after cycling through a part of our nation that has suffured more than I can imagine, all of my troubles seemed infinitesimal. I also want to thank you all for your support as I continue on this mission. It's nice to know, as I pedal anonymously through these parts, that there are folks back home that are wishing me well.

Tomorrow: Alabama.

Tuning in

Having arrived in Austin on the second, this trip has since taken a change in direction - psychologically speaking. Leaving my phone "off the hook" has allowed me to completely live in the present time and place. An ideal we may commonly strive for, it is virtually impossible in our time. Already without an alarm clock or music player, all of my experiences are now purely organic. I take pleasure in mailing things to friends and family and listening to my mind and body for all direction. Raw gut instincts have taken a new meaning and learning how to make personal weather forecasts based on simply looking in the sky have brought me to a different place.

Homo sapiens evolved from homo erectus but I'm confident that we all still poses some traits from the species. Identifying, utilizing, and enhancing various instinctual abilities is almost unheard of to me and whenever I attempt to evolutionary regress I find myself progressing in a revolutionary manner.

The trip updates are over and most of my goals regarding the petition have been reduced. I'm simply at the point where I am just trying to finish the ride. And when it is all over, there will be plenty of time to blog, f-book, and email. It seems my spirit is just not programmed for the digital world and with that, I sign off....

Lollygagging

Despite a visitor during the night trying to steal my sandwhich, I had a great sleep. Waking up to cloudy skies affected my mood however and was only able to accomplish twenty miles by 11AM. Doubtful I'd make it to Austin by day's end, I cruised through Llano (pronounced "LAY-no" believe it or not), Kingsland, and Marble Falls without much concern for how many miles I was riding. In Granite Shoals I was stopped by a nice group of seniors taking a break from dominoes. They offered me a slice of cheesecake and coffee and we chatted for a bit about the journey.

Texas Farm Road 1431 proved to be the busiest farm road I've encountered. Two lanes in each direction with fresh blacktop most of the way I somehow made it to Cedar Park just after sundown. With 92 miles under my belt for the day and just outside of Austin, I stopped for a bite at a cafe with the assumption that restaurants in the city would be crammed with ACL festival attendees.

The rain is supposed to return tomorrow but I'm not too worried. I will be taking the week off (from biking and blogging) as I explore the live music capitol of the world.

Texas weather 101

The rain is what first awoke me. The gusts of wind inspired me to act quickly. Still dark out, I could tell there was total cloud cover. After five minutes, I was packed and under the awning of the general store I was camped behind. As I contemplated my next move, the moon slipped below the horizon. It was 4:20 AM.

Nine miles from the closest town, I figured I could make it within an hour. Under optimum conditions, I can make three-minute miles. It had stopped raining but the distant lightning seemed to crawl closer. These were not optimum conditions.

As I pulled up to a cafe in Coleman that had just opened for the day the clouds unloaded. The delayed start meant a larger breakfast and after reading the local paper in its entirity, I decided to make a break for it. About five miles out, the rain returned and I was soon soaked.

Before arriving in Brady, I was dripping from persperation rather than precipitation. The midday sun brought the mercury into the 90s and I pulled over at a rest stop to cure my ailments. My wrist was acting up and my buns are constantly reminding me they weren't designed for a bike seat.

"Here. Lunch is on me," a man said handing me a five. He wouldn't take no for an answer so I thanked him repeatedly.

"My brother thinks he drove past you ouside of Brady," my phone tells me; a text from my dear friend T. "What are the odds?"

After lunch in the "real" heart of Texas, home to the bulldogs and the Labor Day goat cook-out, I was back on the saddle and continued toward Pontotoc where I lay now in my tent, under a roof, and watching the lightning dance.

Strong wind from the Southwest

Waking up early I couldn't wait to get out of town. The dogs barking all night really got on my nerves and for the third morning in a row I woke up tired. Breakfast was on Sweetwater and I was soon on a farm road crossing the Horse Hallow Wind Energy Center. This was one of my planned stops and despite the ferocious headwind I was happy to have made it.

Early in the afternoon I began to evaluate my day's milage and was not surprised to learn I had only gone forty miles. The wind was unrelenting. I decided to change trajectories and with the wind now more on my back I was able to pedal an additional forty miles in a lot less time.

After having been denied by the "lakekeeper" access to Elm Creek Reservoir on account of the wind (even though boaters still could go) I made it to Hords Creek Lake just before closing for a quick dip. The cool water was just what I needed and now with clean clothes on and having set up camp early, I feel ready for a big ride tomorrow.

A tough start and a tough finish

Today was full of contrasts. Early in my morning ride the smell of toxic fumes from the nearby oil wells gave me a bit of a headache and I was soon dreaming of fresh air. The shoulder of US-84 was not suitable for bikes which meant that the semis passed me at full speed just inches to my left. And without a full night's sleep, I was already tired.

Then arriving in Post my spirits lifted. A local retired firefighter gave me the rundown of this Texas historical town and a free cup of coffee from the local cafe didn't hurt.

Continuing southeast the shoulder became better and entering Snyder early in the afternoon for lunch was an unexpected treat. The owner of Big Apple Deli prepared me a special lunch and his mother and I chatted for over an hour. She even tried to convince me to stay but I insisted I had to press on. My afternoon ride was delayed a bit which didn't really bother me because of the great conversations we all shared.

Arriving in Nolan County the road became as smooth as glass and the wind farm that began to surround me was much better smelling than the morning's oil.

Unable to make it to Sweetwater, I landed about five miles out in the most depressing town thusfar. If it would have been a ghost town then it might have been quaint. But the main drag looked as if it had been vacated rather recently. "For sale" signs in every window implied their was still hope for a turnaround. I asked the police chief, who was parked nearby, where I could camp and he instructed me the playground was alright but to beware of the skunks. Great.

A holy start in the Lone Star

Yesterday's time shift was quite confusing for me. I wasn't aware of it plus I crossed into the Central time zone early in the morning so it wasn't until sunset that I realized that it was an hour earlier. As one can imagine my life does not revolve around time much these days so I feel like a complete amatuer in the department.

Arriving in Lubbock midday, I located the synagogue, found a motel room, headed to a buffet of pizza and salad, and returned to temple to bring in the holiest day of the year. After, despite Jewish law, I stopped at a copy center for a late night session of crafts, letter-writing, and emailing. Not my first choice of how to spend a night off but since the fast had begun and I had a lot on the to-do list I feel like I accomplished a lot.

Today I mailed letters to the governors of California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas as well as one to the President. The current strategy is to invite them on board and build a coalition. We'll see how it goes.

After this evening's closing service I broke the fast with the congregation. Being so grateful, I helped with cleanup before mounting up and biking into the night, tossing my sleeping bag down behind a building in Posey.

Roswell: more to offer than UFOs

The 70-mile ride into Roswell on highway NM-246 was perfection. Smooth asphalt, about one car per hour, and crisp air allowed me to fully enjoy the landscape. About halfway through, the insects started to multiply. Grasshoppers, crickets, and a variety of other unknowns littered the highway, both dead and alive. It seemed the living were feeding on those who had been run over. At first I tried avoiding them but after awhile I realized my efforts were futile.

Yesterday and today, Roswell was holding their annual Chili Cheese Festival. I didn't see much cheese but there were plenty of chilies sold, both raw and dried. I tried a funnel cake for the first time in over a decade and although it was tasty my stomach is still a little upset. The local boy scouts were in awe of my endeavor as was the volunteer from the Roswell Womens Democratic Club.

Continuing eastward I was unsure of my evening destination. About twenty miles out of Roswell the land became almost flat and after another twenty it became completely flat. I managed another 70 miles and entered Tatum with just enough time to grab a bite well after sundown and just before the town's only cafe closed for the night. When the owner heard from her son that I was cycling, she made me eat more, ripped the bill up in front of me, and insisted I camp out back. I told her thanks (after still trying to pay) and that I would see her again at 6am when she opened for the day.

A day of twists on a straight road

My ride out of San Antonio, NM began before dawn. By mid-morning I was overlooking the Trinity Site where the world's first atomic bomb detonated in 1945. Memories of my visit to Hiroshima last November flashed before me and I paused to reflect how the world must have been like then.

Entering Carrizozo, I took a spin around The Street to see old buildings and colorfully painted burros. The visitors center was inside a caboose and I dropped into Elsie's for a quick bite. The owner was a proud Airborne vet during the Vietnam War and trained the special forces how to use unique flat bows (and arrows) that smartly tuck inside a small pack.

In Capitan, I planned to get some food and continue. However after learning from a local Buddhist that Tibetan Monks VenoDhondup Tsering and Yeshi Choedup were in town and were holding a special ceremony a few hours later, I decided to stick around. While I waited I managed to do a load of laundry and take a much needed shower at the local RV park.

After the ceremony, the half moon allowed me to fit in an additional 16 miles and I set up camp late just past Encinoso.

A month of reflection

On this day four weeks ago I was rather unsure what I was doing. I knew was there was a lot of pedaling involved and a wide open road ahead of me. I knew I would be homesick at times, would have many first-time experiences, and face some adversities. All of those have proven true yet I feel that even though I'm about halfway through, the best is yet to come.

Yesterday I thought about contacting the governors of each state I'm passing through for support of the campaign. In the upcoming week I will be drafting letters to them and hopefully while this first month will be known as the "month of adjustment," these next four weeks may be referred to as the "month of action."

It appears many Americans aren't ready for the clean energy revolution although science says the time is past due. We need solid leadership on the issue from the very top. Although bold decisions and swift actions might not appear popular at the present time, ultimately only the next generation will be able to decide and hopefully then, it won't be too late.

Bienvenidos a Mexico Nuevo

I was surprised how mild this morning was and was back on the road as the sun was rising. The forty miles to Springerville through Apache National Forest was the icing on the cake of my northern Arizona tour. A crisp, clear morning provided vibrant colors, calm lakes, and an exciting ascent to the top of White Mountain. My jaw dropped when I read the elevation was at 9120 feet. I wasn't even panting!

Once in Springerville, I found the post office and picked up a letter from home using General Delivery for the first time. I think it's so neat that you can mail things to people without an actual address! I might now mail some things to myself in a different city that I won't need until later in the trip. (Or is that cheating?)

Thirteen miles brought me to the New Mexican border and thirty-three more to a salad bar in Quemado. After stuffing myself with canned veggies, I utilized the last hour of daylight and made it to Pie Town for a century (100 miles in a day). Everything was closed when I arrived so I discovered Jackson Park and set up camp without hassle.

Reflecting on today's ride, I noticed two things unique to New Mexico already: (1) some of the largest motorhomes known to man - one being the size of some hotel lobbies, and (2) more drivers waving - including truckers and bikers! I hope this trend of soft rolling hills, light wind, and friendly folk continues throughout the state.

Unexpected but necessary delay

When I initially opened my eyes this morning, it was simply too cold to get started. After resting for an additional hour I made myself tough out the chill. Eleven slow miles later landed me back on pavement and I beelined to the closest cafe to warm up and eat up. Texas-toast French toast was the special and it was scrumptious.

Continuing up to Show Low past a few construction sites, I noticed my rear derailer was acting up. Cycle Mania is the bike shop in town and the guys there squared my bike away without delay. I left with what felt almost like a new bike thanks to a new saddle and derailer.

After missing almost a half-day of riding I ended up in the Fort Apache Reservation after dark and found a dark corner outside a chapel to close my eyes. Falling asleep proved difficult thanks to the countless barking dogs. Staying asleep wasn't easy either after a couple coyotes came up to investigate my area. I was able to shoo them away and grab another hour before daybreak.

Legs of steel

After placing three more patches (eight now in all) on my trailer tube and passing the largest roadkill thusfar (a horse), I dropped into a cafe in Strawberry to try to reinflate my spirits. I ordered a slice of chocolate pecan pie and found in the phonebook a bike shop fifteen miles up the road in Payson.

At the bike shop I not only bought a new tube and patch kit, the owner tossed in an additional tube for free with some helpful info about what to expect up the road.

After a climb up to 7700 feet (from below 5000' in Payson), I took a quick dip in Willow Lake on the rim and continued to Forest Lakes where I bought canned dinner and asked for directional advice. The shopkeep told me of another washboard road (as if I hadn't learned my lesson already) to Heber via Black Canyon Lake. There I found a great campsite in Sitgreaves National Park and passed out surrounded by pine trees and looking into the star-filled sky.

The adventure never ends

After quickly packing up camp this morning, I continued my desent through Oak Canyon passing Slide Rock State Park. I was truly awed by the morning sun displaying vibrant colors off the cliffs that on more than one occaision I had to stop to take it all in. Once I reached Sedona proper, I found an open cafe, grabbed a cup of joe, and called home for the first time.

Cottonwood was the next town and my plan was to pick up a few snacks for the rest of the day. Just before reaching the grocery store, I noticed a sign on the side of a Mexican restaurant that said "Sunday champagne brunch." I asked the man outside what the details were and learned it was all-I-could eat and drink for $8.95. How could I say no? After quickly grabbing a seat on the porch I began to gorge on enchiladas, fruit, papas y queso, and flan like it was going to disappear. About an hour into the feast, my stomach began to ache and begged me to quit. After initially ignoring the request by eating even more chips and salsa, I finally paid the bill and hobbled over to a nearby tree to sit for a half hour until I could move again.

Back on the bike, I left Cottonwood with food being the last thing on my mind. Old town Camp Verde looked nice but with no reason to stop I continued east. At Clear Creek, I took a break at the RV park, bought a cold one, and chatted for a half hour with a couple reidents about the surrounding area. The shopkeep informed me about Fossil Creek nearby which was along a dirt road "shortcut" to Strawberry, my next destination. He insisted my bike could handle the washboard road and it would cut the milage in half from 50+ miles to about 26.

Turning off the highway I wondered if this was the best idea. This was my first time going on an unpaved road this trip and I just prayed that my trailer would make it. If I got stuck, a 20-mile walk wouldn't be impossible.

Reaching Fossil Creek was like finding a desert oasis. The tourqoise water was flowing strong and when I jumped in I immediately forgot about any previous concerns. But at this point I was losing daylight and began the ascent out of the canyon. It lasted well past sundown and with a sliver moon setting, I began to feel like I was on another planet. Looking back, the climb out on the dirt road was mighty dangerous. With steep cliffs and no lights other than the stars above, I feel lucky to have gotten out of there with just a flat tire on the trailer.

I'm camped out now just outside Strawberry but still in Tonto National Forest. I'm too tired to fix the flat tonight, so instead, I close my eyes and listen to the mountain lions screaming from every direction. I guess it's a good thing I didn't stop for any snacks.

#1 place I will return to

Today was amazing. I woke up late and cruised into Flagstaff for a large breakfast and checked out the events for the day in the local paper. Just a few blocks away was the local synagogue and I made it over in time for Rosh Hashana services. The congregation greeted me with open arms and I left feeling spiritually renewed!

For lunch I found an all-you-can eat salad bar and downed a half-pitcher of some ale. A thunderstorm was passing by so I killed time on the internet while charging my dead phone battery. Exciting.

I headed over to Old Flagstaff and found a really cool community there. I spent happy hour with three Hopi Indians while my rear wheel was being trued across the street.

Pedaling into the dusk, I quickly found myself in Oak Canyon. This downhill bike ride was the second best I've ever encountered (behind the Death Road of Bolivia). Seriously, to anyone reading this, before you die: fly to Flagstaff and ride downhill to Sedona. The smells and sights will remind you that you are ALIVE!

Over and out from some random spot between Oak Creek and AZ-89. Truly a blissful locale....

The Painted Desert

I woke up this morning with every intention of arriving in Flagstaff this afternoon. However the desert called me off the highway and I ventured on a 36-mile detour through Coconino National Forest via Wupatki and Sunset Crater National Monuments. As I dropped into the basin my jaw dropped at the beauty. After taking a brief moment to capture it on film, I was back to cruising down hundreds of feet. All of a sudden a large gust of hot wind nearly pushed me off my bike while I was moving over 30 mph. I somehow maintined control and averted a true catastrophe!

Now I'm camping just off the highway and am looking forward to Flagstaff tomorrow. I should arrive early and plan on leaving late. I sent emails last night to the local media outlets but so far no dice.

Mile 1300

After a huge breakfast at Jacobs Lake and a small snack at Marble Canyon, I ended today's tour at The Gap which is on the Navajo Reservation. The only store in "town" closed three minutes after my arrival so I was happy to pick up a couple bananas and chocolate milk. Upon checkout, I asked the nice lady if she knew any good places to camp and she said right behind the store was fine. I double checked with the man of the property and he agreed that I could post up for the evening.

After a long chat with the man and two of his daughters, I retired for the evening and began crunching some numbers. It turns out that I have pedaled exactly 1300 miles! To put this into perspective, the route from the Canadian border to the Mexican border via WA, OR, & CA is 1378 miles. That is a route I hope to do one day. I guess I should allow three weeks for it! 1300 miles from now should be close to Austin, TX. Hopefully in less than three weeks though because of less elevation changes.

Welcome to the Grand Canyon State

This morning's cup of coffee made me realize the morning ritual takes on a whole new meaning when on a bike trip. Since it's impossible to grab and go pedal, I usually end up chatting with the locals and procuring valuable information on the upcoming ride such as the elevation and good places to rest.

Stopping for lunch at Pipe Springs National Monument, I learned how to make arrowheads and chatted with an old-school bike tramp. We exchanged stories and I powered past Fredonia and spent the night at La Ferve Lookout in the Kaibab National Forest. At one point late in the afternoon I was confused why I was moving so slow even though the ground appeared level. Was my break catching? Surely I didn't add any weight to my pack. Maybe my legs were just really tired. Finally I figured out the ground was not level and I had been gradually climbing 1000 feet over the course of several miles. Phew!

I am Zion

At the service station this morning drinking coffee, I noticed a petition arguing against the establishment of a new local wind farm. I need to check out their website windfarmfactsutah.org to get my facts straight I guess.

Stopping briefly in La Verkin to get some groceries, I made it to Zion in time to get a days worth of hiking at the emerald pools and the narrows while also resting on the park shuttle and taking in the splendor. I discovered that it was hard for me to fully relax because of the guilt for not using the beautiful day to ride and all of the tourists around me. This realization lead me to conclude that I will skip the Grand Canyon on this trip.

I camped that night along the Virgin River and had a quick dip before bed. The cool water felt great!

They used to call it Fort Kinarra

This morning I took it easy and enjoyed a complimentary breakfast (thanks to some nice hotel staff), used the lobby computer, and did my laundry while taking care of some bills. Yay!

The wind still had not subsided and I only made it 10 miles or so before calling it quits in Kinarraville. The local RV park let me shower and use the hot tub and camp on the front lawn. Before settling in for the evening, I went on a fantastic canyon hike to Kinarra Falls. A definite highlight of the trip thusfar, it will be tough for Zion to top. Steep red cliffs and complete isolation in a pristine environment made this hike unforgettable. No other human (or trace of humans) could be spotted and I couldn't help but revert to a childlike state of wonder and awe.

Falling asleep that night I could hear the park owners arguing through the thin walls. Life is to short for such anger, I thought, although easy for me to observe.

And on the 8th day, I rest.

Today was all about the headwind. Starting off of Frisco Summit (which I later learned is haunted), I battled through Milford and Minersville and eventually ended up in Cedar City. Although a slower day, I was happy to eat a huge dinner and find a cheap place to camp on town. Tomorrow I think I will take the day off.

Outside of Milford, I did have the brief opportunity to check out the new wind farm being put up and chat with a few of the workers. Milford already has a geothermal plant so I'm guessing they won't be using too much coal in the future!

Nevada: basin, fault, range.

I awoke this morning with a little headache thanks to the hunters who kept buying rounds for me last night. After dropping the kids off I was alright though and pedaled straight into Baker. Not much going on there. After a great cup of coffee, I chatted with the local shopkeep before crossing into Utah and stopping briefly in Garrison. With the midday sun beating down, I ate a quick snack in the shade before continuing on. Fortunately there was plenty of cloud cover and the next 60 miles was bearable. Many snakes and beatles crossed my path and after climbing into the San Francisco Mountains after dark (the 16th summit since Carson Pass), I camped with a fellow traveler at Frisco Summit and fell asleep wondering if it would rain overnight.

Livin the dream!

This morning was freezing. I was not prepared and the morning ride started off brutal. Along the way, I passed a Japanese man who started from DC and is WALKING to SF. I felt totally humbled! Eventually I made it to Ely where I satisfied a pancake craving (having passed Pancake Summit yesterday) and comtinued to order eggs, hash browns, grilled cheese, salad, and bread pudding. The waitress was nice and she had tall hair.

During the hottest hours, I hung outside the local grocer and chatted with the baggers on their smoke breaks. I learned that the carnival was in town and befriened a local who filled me in on the current middle east political scene (he thought I was Arab). He bought me an apple pie at a fast food chain that I detest and I gave him some goo for his front tire.

Back on the road, I met a girl who stared biking from Colorado Springs bound for SF. We chatted briefly and I continued on toward Majors Junction. It can't even be considered a town. Just a bar with an RV park. I'm camping (and drinking) here tonight and just rook my first shave and shower since the 30th. It felt great!

"I found it!"

Today was a full day of cycling. At dawn, I set for Eureka which is 45 miles east of Hickison. Upon arrival at the friendliest town on the lonliest highway, I ate an amazing black bean veggie burger with sautéd mushrooms and peppers. Receiving special treatment from the chef, she threw in a salad on the house. After lunch, I wandered over to the library and waited for the 4pm opening. A local told me that they might not even open promptly at 4, and with 40 miles still ahead of me, I decided to take off. The cloud cover kept the desert cooler today and I made it to Illipah Reservoir with plenty of time for a quick dip, set up camp, and eat a nice dinner (oats, apple, peanut butter, and a granola bar) before shutting my eyes just after sunset.

Food, with a side of drama

The morning wasn't freezing like yesterday even though I was over 2000 feet higher in elevation. Cruising down toward Austin, I began to pedal faster in hopes of making it to town before breskfast ended. At 10:56am, I entered the Internatonal Hotel & Cafe and ordered a huge skillet from a bubbly waitress who told me of her biking days on Maui. When I went to pay however, I learned that my ATM card was missing and had to pay credit. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone with the bank and sipping on delicious iced tea from a rude waitress at the other cafe in town.

While writing a postcard, I discovered someone stole my phone and solar panal from under my nose! What a day! I stormed down to the Sheriff's office (two doors down) to report the theft. Turned out just minutes before someone turned it in thinking someone had forgotten it. I thanked them, packed up, and headed up and over Austin and Bob Scott passes before settling in at Hickison Rec Area for the night. I made an aquaintence there and we chatted for a few hours while checking out some prehistoric petroglyphs, learning a few new constellations, and watching a beautiful desert moonrise.

West-central Nevada blues

With tractors rolling in, I decided to quickly get up and going well before daybreak. It was freezing out so I stopped for 70-cent coffee before heading into the great wide open. At midday, I arrived in Middlegate and reorganized my gear and prepared to mail seven pounds of unnecessary stuff back home. Eating peanut butter and jelly on corn tortillas, I began to crave a solid meal.

The heat subsided and I continued up state highway 722 toward Carroll Summit. At the peak (7500') I set up camp next to the cows and could hear coyotes closeby. I was pretty beat and crashed before any stars could be seen.

Post playa

The mist of nearby sprinklers at daybreak alerted me to wake up. I made good time stopping first for 50-cent coffee in Nixon and later in Fernley to do a load of laundry and buy more sunscreen and lotion. Wiping playa dust again from my limbs I began to wonder if the locals were irked by my choice to self- cleanse on a shaded bench at the local strip mall. "Oh, did you just come from Burning Man," a few would ask me. "How was it?" Apparently it wasn't too big of a deal.

Heading down 50-A toward Fallon, I was happy to have completed ACA map set "Western Express 1." For dinner, a plate of Chow Fun satisfied a craving for noodles and I passed out at a small farm just off the highway.

The end of a chapter

I watched the temple burn alone this evening and meditated about the end of a special relatonship. The golden jewel of fire before me was almost as intense as her devotion and may her spirit find peace in the future.

Back on my bike after nearly four days, I pedaled out to Empire and crashed behind a billboard.

Welcome to Black Rock

This morning I awoke 5 minutes before my alarm, packed up, and rolled out well before daybreak. Stopping for cheap coffee to warm myself up, I managed to pump out over 120 miles today arriving at Burning Man late in the evening. During the hottest hours, I napped and swam in Pyramid Lake. I also stopped for an Indian taco and bought food in Empire to last the rest of the week. Although short on water, I'm confident I can bum some off at some point. Upon my arrival at the gates, I was greeted like a celebrity. Apparently I was the first (and only?) SF-based cyclist to arrive this year.

I can't believe I missed salads

Today's highlight was Carson Pass. After a veggieburger lunch (with a tasty house salad) at Kirkwood, I climbed the final stretch to over 8500 feet. Cruising into Nevada, I stopped for a (gasp!) soft drink at the state's oldest bar in Genoa. After chatting it up with some bikers (Harley heads) and the local tractor salesman, I continued through Carson City and crashed in a dry riverbed at Dayton State Park.

El Dorado

After a late start, I managed to climb over 3000 feet today. The ride along CA-88 was beautiful through El Dorado National Forest. On several occaisions I spotted SPI signage but no evidence of clearcutting.

I spent the night off of Cat Creek Road. After watching the sun set over the Sierras, I hanged my food bag from a tree and called it an early night. About an hour into my slumber a huge bug on my face awoke me and I decided a tent would be necessary for a good night's sleep.

My first Murphy!

The ride up to Cameron Park was very enjoyable thanks to the American River Bike Path. I did encounter a few problems with my bike however when the trailer tube had to be patched and a link removed from my chain after it snapped. A quick dip in Lake Folsom washed away any woes.

While sipping on a cold beverage a few blocks from buddy J's house, I had the opportunity to reflect on my mission. This life of bike touring no doubt requires an ajustment period and soon I hope to be able to focus more on the petition.

Later on, J took me on a tour of the local Air Park - a community with hangers instead of garages, streets as wide as runways, and traffic signs that are knee-height. A delicious homecooked meal by the parents and a comfy night's sleep in a Murphy bed capped this relaxing day.

Heat

Today was almost 100 degrees as I continued toward Davis. On several occaisions I had to pull over to rest and escape the blazing heat. Although I consumed at least two gallons of water throughout the day, my lasting headache was a sign of heat exhaustion and I realized my salt intake had been very low.

As I rested, cars would occaisionally stop to see if I was ok. I knew I was so I thanked them for stopping as I continued to sip warm water from my bottles. A quick dip in Lake Solano rejuvinated me although I tried not to ponder why no one else was swimming.

Eventually I pulled into Davis and stayed with a good friend from high school. We had the chance to catch up while taking a tour of her garden and later sampled her yummy watermelon "salad." Her husband served me potato chips with lime juice and hot sauce (a new favorite of mine) and gave me a tour of his high tech music studio. I ended the evening early cuddling up with their two adorable cats and hoping I would be ready to ride on Sunday.

Bonfired up!

I watched Thursday's sunset alone from the Cliffhouse. It was a brief moment of meditation after a frenzied month of anticipation and preparation. The microplanning of my last two weeks was precisely what this upcoming ride is supposed to avoid.

As I approached Fulton on what will be my home for the next two months, I immediately heard some tunes (thanks A), spotted my supporters, and smelled bottomless vegan tamales (courtesy Bernardo's) next to a raging bonfire. I felt the calmness that only true friendships can provide before the storm of emotion that accomanies long-distance cycling.

Sausalito was the next stop to crash with homeboy O. Hospitable as always, he fired up some tea and we dreamed about where our upcoming months will take us.

Environmental guilt

Over the weekend I had the privilege of attending Activist Camp in Algonquin, IL hosted by ForestEthics and Greenpeace. It was a great opportunity to learn new skills and network with activists from around the continent. For more info, check out the Greenpeace Activst Blog.

One topic that was not brought up, however, was the offsetting of our air travel. Many within the environmental movement seem to disregard carbon offsets because it accepts that which is unacceptable: the use of fossil fuel. However I believe that offsetting is better than not and according to one carbon offset company I consumed 1,310 lbs. of CO2 for the round-trip flight to Chicago from San Francisco. For $11.90 I was able to displace 2,000 lbs. of carbon by investing in clean energy, farm power, and landfill gas capture.

Returning back to the City yesterday, I had the opportunity to pass out fliers promoting the send-off next Thursday. The first stop was the San Francisco Vegetarian Society's weekly vegan dinner at the Red Victorian B&B. After feasting, two friends and I rode down to the bike-in movie sponsored by the SF Bike Coalition.

"Isn't passing out fliers about climate change contradictory," one fellow member asked me. Indeed a question worthy of a thorough explanation.

The fliers were printed on recycled paper that was taken out of a downtown office recycling bin. I sincerely hope that the fliers end up in others' recycling bins but I will regardless take comfort knowing I was able to give the papers one more use before disposal. Now the ink, I must admit, was not necessarily soy-based. With that being said I just hope that the net result of this petition brings more attention to the cause with far-reaching results.

New Zealand now on board

New Zealand's climate change minister Nick Smith announced earlier today that his country will cut its greenhouse gas emissions 10 to 20 percent below 1990 levels by the year 2020. Although a commendable step forward, the target range still falls below the 25 to 40 per cent cut that the United Nations' Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has said is needed from developed countries as a whole by 2020.

Here in the United States, Todd Stern is the special envoy on climate change. "Bottom line," he wrote in 2007, is to "set binding emissions targets for developed countries and as many advanced developing countries as possible. The targets should be long-term (relative to the five-year timeframe used in Kyoto) and grow tighter over time."

According to John Ashton, the special representative for climate change in the United Kingdom, “we now need to stop talking about talking and start deciding about doing.”

Blood Alley not too bloody

Yesterday morning a good friend J and I met at a cafe in Russian Hill to commence a 60-mile ride to Vallejo. It will be the first leg of my ride as I'm choosing to skip the ferry as suggested by Adventure Cycling Association maps that will lead me to El Paso, Texas via the Grand Canyon. Part 1 of yesterday's ride, a 40-mile journey to Novato, led us over the Bridge at sunrise, by some sweet-smelling gardens, and remarkably smooth asphalt. Coincidently we met up with a friend who happened to be riding a similar route in Larkspur, and after getting turned around a few times, we had plenty of opportunities to chat it up with some cool Marin locals. Part 2 was the 19-mile stretch on 37 nicknamed Blood Alley. It was a bit precarious on 3 small bridges of about 100 yards each (one especially because of a weird turn). On these, there were no shoulders and with the auto speed limit 55mph, we pedaled as fast as we could to get off. Besides those parts, there were wide shoulders, a now divided highway, and speed dips which made it fine as long as you stay as far right as possible. We arrived at the Vallejo ferry building at 1130am, concluding our 5.5 hour, 60 mile journey.

This morning, I'm reviewing Naomi Smith's "Give Me Liberty," just ordered a used copy of MoveOn.org's "50 Ways to Love Your Country," and am trying to finalize my petition, online petition, press releases, and flyers. Need to take a break from the computer now though and get outside. But before I go, a heads up about August 27....

At sundown from Ocean Beach, on the last Thursday of this month, I will commence my ride to the White House. I am hoping for a large gathering of people not necessarily for personal support but for support of the cause. After signing the petition and potentially magnifying actions for a cause that we all believe in, stick around for a bonfire with free Mexican food courtesy of Bernardo's ("After work, maybe..."). I will pedal out at some point with other members of the San Francisco Bike Coalition and ride to the Golden Gate Bridge. That night a friend of mine will let me bunker down at his place in Sausalito before waking up predawn on Friday to commence a 100-mile ride to Davis.

Critical morals

Possibilities are endless. Our limits are only those that we accept and place upon ourselves. And when we focus on our similarities instead of our differences it's pretty amazing what we can accomplish. I learned that at this evening's Critical Mass.

"I'm so happy to be in San Francisco! This seems like the home stretch," one rider told me who is currently passing through the City on his bike to Tijuana. He started in Vancouver.

"Make sure to bring mace. That's something I wish I had when I ran into some trouble," another warned. "There are people out there that just don't like cyclists." I was planning on packing a small serrated knife that D recently gifted me but now might have second thoughts. "Buy a cheap radio and some speakers. Those really helped too."

Unfortunately I wasn't able to recruit any massers for the ride. But I did mention that I would pass along any messages to the President when I get to the White House. If you also believe that the climate must be a top priority and have a message or personal experience to share about climate change, please, pass it along to message4obama(at)gmail(dot)com.

Training tomorrow morning. Then Oskar will see Ricky Henderson's #24 retirement. Tuesday evening's event at the World Affairs Council Auditorium should be stimulating.

One month to prepare

On August 28, 2009, I will clip in to my bicycle in San Francisco and embark on a 3500-mile journey through ten states to deliver a message to the President.

I am pleased that President Barack Obama will be attending COP15: UN Climate Change Conference - held in Copenhagen this December - but it is imperative we do not lose focus of what is at stake. Since Kyoto in 1997, the carbon dioxide saturation levels have increased by 24.06 parts per million, which is the same increase as the years 1959 - 1981 (see Mauna Loa Observatory). What does this mean to us Americans? Since we are responsible for emitting 29% of all carbon emissions in history (China, the next highest, can claim only 8%) and with polar ice caps melting at an increased rate, we hold a unique responsibility without much time on our hands.

Congress has recently balked on the issue by butchering the American Clean Energy and Security Act of 2009. Why invest $10 billion of ratepayer subsidies for an unproven technology such as "carbon capture and sequestration" when we can build new solar and wind farms? This year, China is planning to build a 30-megawatt solar power plant for $150 million which would be enough energy to power approximately 9,000 homes here in the United States. Doing the math, we can see that a wise investment would be to invest the $10 billion into a solar farm that would provide energy for 600,000 homes or the entire population of Washington DC.

In Copenhagen, world leaders have to be serious about setting and meeting global emission targets. Our President has to be ready to show real commitment and set a national emission target that is science-based.