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.