Out of Egypt, Into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and I Shake the Dirt From my Sandals as I run

9/9/10

Day 4: Indiana Dunes to Elkhart, IN

     After a few minor complications with getting a bike on a train to the Indiana Dunes from Chicago on the previous day, I had arrived with my friends from Chicago for a farewell camping trip. On the edge of Lake Michigan in Indiana, there happens to be a huge pile of sand, just like in a desert, hence the reference to Egypt in the title. It was from here that I truly stepped out into the vast expanse of land and strangers that separated me from the east coast.

     We spent the night on a moonlit hike to the shoreline over the tallest dune in the park to yet again contemplate the grandeur of our world, this time with the lights of Chicago shining brightly in the distance in a sea of deep blues and blacks. We sat around the campfire and enjoyed each other's company for one last time. The plan was for me to bike to South Bend the next day and for the rest of them to return to Chicago.

     A very cool thing happens when you are on the road in a situation like this. Suddenly, your hierarchy of needs changes, and a great deal of your energy goes into the most basic requirements of survival. All of the problems that usually cloud your head disappear, and you are left with finding food and shelter. It is a cleansing process, and it leaves you as a very simple, genuine person.

     I came into South Bend after a light day of biking and went straight to the Notre Dame Campus. The buildings and landscaping combined to produce one handsome looking university. I did a little bit of exploring and found myself in the main chapel where the choir was rehearsing "Amazing Grace". It was breathtaking.

     I had planned on staying with a guy from Couchsurfing, but when I called him he said he was busy and couldn't help me out. Upon hearing this, I momentarily freaked out and frantically found a bush behind a sign in the main courtyard that I thought I might be able to sleep behind. Luckily for me, he called me back and told me that his friend Stephen would be able to take me and my bike in his pickup truck another 20 miles east to his mansion Elkhart to spend the night. I was not hesitant in the slightest to accept the offer.

     I met the six foot five, two hundred and forty pound middle-aged Stephen and I was a little bit intimidated by him, considering that he was taking me to his mansion in the woods outside of town. Most of what we talked about during the late night ride to Elkhart, and 100% of the advice he had to give me was about making money. He was very driven and success oriented, as am I, although my measure of success is not necessarily measured in dollars.

     I was in utter disbelief when we arrived at his house. I had to have some kind of luck on my side to go from considering sleeping in a bush, to staying in a mansion with two dogs and all the frozen pizza I could eat.

     This Dog's name is Zeus. He is real big and friendly.

     I went to sleep feeling like I had lucked out, but still anxious about the next day, because surely, it could not possibly work out any better than this for me. Or so I thought...

Condensed Chicago Soup

8/25-9/8: Chicago

     Rather than go through my stay in Chicago day by day, I have decided to cover the entirety of my time in the Windy City in one post that will hopefully encompass a majority of the noteworthy/blogworthy things.

******

Noteworthy Thing #1: My hosts

     Justyn, Joe, Daryl, and Lauren (and Sox the cat, too!) in the Ukrainian Village were absolutely the best hosts I could have asked for. A big thank you goes out to all of you for letting me sleep in your apartments, eat your food, and play with your cats. We got into some crazy shenanigans together including, but not limited to: late night abandoned carnival expeditions, impromptu dance/costume parties, long bike rides through the pouring rain in which cell phones are ruined by water damage, cake baking, pico de gallo, homemade veggie burgers, Jazzfest at millennium park, art show installations, dumpster diving, scrabble matches, crocheting and knitting presents for Chicago bike racks, chillin' lakeside on the beach, and a game so epic and ridiculous that it can only be called Beer Ball.

Noteworthy Thing #2: Bike-ability of Chi-town

     I am a small town kid, used to biking the streets of Ft. Collins, Colorado, where two wheeled, non-motorized vehicles rule the road. For me, coming into the third largest city in our country on a bike was a little bit intimidating, and I was worried that it would be scary and near impossible to bike in such an environment. I could not have been more wrong. While it is absolutely thrilling to be speeding down a bike lane in downtown Chicago with the wind on your face and cars all around you, it was never terrifying. Most places you go have great bike lanes, and often times as a biker you are moving faster than the cars. I know I have no authority to say this, having been to only a small percentage of the cities on this planet, but Chicago must be the most bike friendly big city in the world. That's right, Amsterdam, take that!

     It is also worth noting that because I was on a bike the whole time in Chicago, I never felt like a tourist. I felt like a local. I also feel like I got to know the city and my way around it so much better because of my bike. Thanks, bike!
Love, Jeff

Noteworthy Thing #3: Bike Adjustments

     I had noticed after my first two and a half days of riding that my wrists and palms were a bit sore, and thanks to a tip from Nelly, I realized that I was leaning too far forward over my handlebars, putting too much stress and weight on my hands. To remedy this, I bought a new(used) stem that would bring my handlebars closer towards the saddle, and higher up towards... uh, the sky, I suppose. Joe inspired me to do the work installing it myself rather than paying a shop 25 bucks to do it. So one day the two of us went out and figured it out on our own. We took off the old crappy grips, removed the breaks and bar end shifters, loosened the old stem and detached it from the frame and handlebars, and then installed the new stem and reattached everything else. We even wrapped the handlebars with some nice new cork/gel tape. Afterward, I ended up selling the old stem on craigslist for 25 bucks! So instead of spending 25 to have some shop do it, I did it myself, learned something about my bike, put some love into the stem, AND came out 50 dollars on top. Thank you Joe!

Noteworthy thing #4: Bike Shop Culture

     Hopefully this doesn't come across as negative, because I want the overall feel of this blog to be very positive, but here' goes... Something that has always been off-putting about bike shops for me is the fact that nearly every employee in every shop is infinitely cooler than I am... or so their attitude would suggest. The same phenomenon can be found in skate and snowboard shops around the globe. It's like there is this level of hipness that you must subscribe to for the employee to even give you the time of day. My whole life I have felt judged and rejected by people like this.

     What I found in the bike shops in Chicago was that when I told people what I was doing, I instantly had street cred. I had somehow won their respect without buying into whatever image they see as cool. I simply went into the shop, and told them what I needed to get from point A to point B. The seventeen year old wannabe skater in me wanted to feel accomplished and proud of winning the "hip" shop keep's respect, but the realistic, present day Jeff didn't really care much either way and was just happy to have found a cheap tire. Of course, I am generalizing, and not EVERY person who works in a bike or skate shop is this way. I have had plenty of positive experiences as well, and I know several bike shop employees who are just as down to earth as you or I. I just think that biking is something that is for everyone, and NOT something that you should have to prove yourself worthy of. No judgment is necessary.

******

     After spending two weeks putting down some roots in Chicago, the bottoms of my feet began to itch, and I knew that it was time to move on. I had left everything I knew in Colorado in search of the unknown, and I had now come to know Chicago intimately. It was time again to go out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress... adventure!

Wind Farms and Tall Building Farms

8/24/10

Day 3: North Fork of the Vermillion River to Chicago, IL

     Firstly, mosquitoes suck.

     At daybreak I woke up to a thick fog that covered the farmhouse that lay on the other side of the barren field. I was thankful for this because it bought me some time to gather my things in peace, without having to worry about the farmer finding me. On the other hand, however, the I was unnerved by the fog, as the visibility was poor on the road. After a few nerve-wracking miles in the misty morning air, I stopped at a gas station to let the sun rise a little higher in the sky and disperse the low lying cloud.

     When I deemed the visibility 'safe', I climbed atop my bike again and set out for the last leg of my mini-tour to Chicago. Almost immediately I found myself surrounded by towering wind turbines in every direction. You always hear about how big they are, but when you are that close too them and not sheltered by a car, it really is a marvelous and powerful thing to experience first hand. Gigantic is not the right word. Nor is massive. Not humongous. Lets just say that Don Quixote may not have been all that crazy after all.

     One of the turbines was only about 70 yards off of the road, so I biked over there and went straight to the base. It was a most awe-inspiring experience to have three __ft blades moving directly at me at __mph only __ft above my head. (I'm terrible at estimating numbers, hence the blanks... that 70 yards is probably not even accurate...) But you get the point. I could just feel the energy that the machine had harnessed from the wind.

     As I got closer to Chicago, the roads got worse and worse. There was more traffic, more trash, the shoulders were smaller, and the pavement was in bad condition. At one point I couldn't take it anymore and I stopped at the Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie Preserve to ask if there was a better way in. The woman working the front desk had her arm in a cast and her eyes lit up when I asked about a biking path to Joliet. She (used to) bike to work everyday on the very highway I was complaining about being so bad for biking until one day she was in a biking accident, leaving her with a broken arm. After signing a petition to put a bike lane in on the stretch of road in question, I was directed to the Wauponsee Glacier Trail, which would lead me to Joliet, where I could take a Metra train into the heart of Chicago.

     I cut straight through the prairie on the crushed limestone path that had been laid out for me. The contrast between the hectic highway and the serene bike path was pronounced. I could feel it in my mindset and mood as well. I was no longer stressed or fearful for my life. I was simply a man on his bike, riding through the grasslands in the heart of the United States. It was quite pleasant.

     The train came roaring into the station in the urban jungle of Joliet, IL. I scrambled to gather my book, my water bottle, and my bag of chocolate chips and I hurried to the platform to awkwardly carry my bike up the steps and onto the train. Once the train was in motion I switched out my clipless pedals for my platform ones so that I wouldn't have to worry about clipping in and out while riding in the city.

***Biking Terminology 101***
This was news to me, because on the surface it doesn't make much sense. When you think about it, though, it makes total sense. Pedals that do not attach to the shoe at all are called platform pedals. You can add a strap to those that you stick your toes in, and that is called a 'toe clip'. What I had been using were pedals that my shoes 'clipped' into mechanically. I wouldn't think to call those 'clipless'. But what it refers to is the fact that there are no 'toe clips'. Kapiche?
***End Lesson***

     I had made it to Chicago after two and a half days of biking. I couldn't help but feel like I had accomplished some small thing. I used this as a sort of test run for my longer ride that will take me from Chicago to Washington, DC. It was comforting for me to know that I had a friend waiting for me in Chicago and I just had to tough out two nights before I could find refuge.

     I would not have that comfort on the next leg of my journey. The light at the end of the tunnel is a lot farther away in DC. Luckily for me, I ended up enjoying the tunnel itself.

      I reunited with my good friend Justyn in the Windy City that night. We went straight back to being good pals and didn't miss a step. It was like we had never been apart. He introduced me into his group of friends, and I felt instantly welcomed and absolutely a part of their community. Two weeks of greatness ensued during my stay in Chicago.

     

    

Disaster #1 Strikes

8/23/10

Day 2: Weldon Springs to the banks of the North Fork of the Vermillion River (outside of Forrest, IL)

     The morning was brisk, and it took me a while to find my rhythm. I had to do a lot of short jaunts north and east to get out of the park area, and it seemed like I was putting in a lot of effort and not moving too far on the map.

     Before long, the sun had risen higher in the sky and I had found harmony between my body, the cycle, the road, and the scene to which it was all connected. I biked past a field of horses and stopped to say hi. They were very friendly and the whole thing made me think of Molly and Strider and how the two of them helped me overcome my fear of horses. That's right, Strider. You may be gone, but you are not forgotten.

     About 10 miles outside of Gibson City, my first "disaster" struck. I shifted down and felt a weird jolt, followed by an odd wobbling. My initial thought was that it was a flat tire, but upon inspection, the pressure was fine. I decided I must be crazy and tried to kick off only to realize that I couldn't pedal. The rear wheel was locked up.

     I looked back and was appalled to see that it had fallen out of the drop out. The quick release was not tightened enough, and with as much weight as I had on the back, it gave under the pressure.

     The sun was high and there was no shade in sight. I unloaded my bike and made a pile on the side of the highway. At this point I was quite hot and bothered, because I was on day TWO of the trip and I was stuck on the side of the road with a broken bike in the blazing sun. I had a long way to go, and this was certainly a test of how much I could trust my bike and my own repair skills.

     I flipped my bike upside down and was relieved to find that it was a quick fix. I rode it around before loading up the gear just to make sure it was safe. It passed my safety tests with flying colors.

     I stopped for water in the small town of Strawn, and I chose a house with two barking dogs in front for some reason. I definitely picked the right house in this town of less than 100 residents. Bruce and his daughter Amanda were very nice and they offered me not only water, but chips, homemade salsa (from their MASSIVE garden), and... A BEER.

     I told Bruce that I was planning on sleeping down by a river about 15 miles up the road that I had seen on my map, and I asked him if he thought that was a good idea. He said he knew the family who owned the farm on either side of the river and that it shouldn't be a problem.

     One thing that I found noteworthy (other than their warm generosity and conversation) was that when I asked Bruce about places to get food in the next town, he (a farmer with one of the most impressive gardens I've ever seen, full of more fresh food than he knows what to do with...) recommended to me McDonalds, Burger King, or if I wanted to "think outside the bun", Taco Bell.

     I declined the offer for another beer and was on my merry way, feeling quite thankful and completely alive, having just connected with another human being... a stranger. 

     I stopped in Forrest, IL and got some instant easy mac and filled up my thermos with hot water from a gas station, just as Jeffrey from the Denver Bike Co-op had advised me to do. Thanks for the tip Jeffrey!

     "It was getting darker and darker, and I still had not found the river crossing that Bruce had promised. The sun had been tucked away by the corn stalks, and I was clinging on to the last lingering moments of light, afraid of being on the road at night. I didn't want that.

     In the very last moments of dusk, before the pale light would be extinguished by a powerful darkness, I found the river. I crossed it and went about 50 yards east off the highway, along the edge of a field that was in fallow, just as Bruce had instructed.  There, I went into the tall grass lining the river and laid my bike on its side and spread out my tarp. I used the hot water to prepare my easy mac and enjoyed it with a tortilla and some fresh homemade salsa from Bruce as darkness swallowed the flat landscape."

Hitting the DT (Dusty Trail)

As compared to my later biking ventures, these first three days feel like an ugly grunt, in which I limped my way to Chicago, not really knowing what I was doing, not really feeling at home on the road or on my bike.

(The following is paraphrased from my first journal entry, August 22, 2010)
*direct quotes from the journal will appear in quotation marks ""

Day 1: Decatur to Weldon Springs, IL

Curt pulled the car into a grocery store in Decatur, and I made the final preparations for the biking leg of the trip to Chicago. I got suited up in my padded ass shorts and Triple Bypass jersey (so graciously donated by Matt), gave my skin a generous coating of sunscreen, and double + triple checked that nothing would be left behind. With my panniers loaded, sleeping bag and tarp secured, handsome chili pepper bell from Nelly perched atop my handlebars, and most importantly: my (Kory's) helmet fastened tightly on to my noggin, I was ready to hit the DT.

The first couple of miles through Decatur were scary. There was not much of a shoulder on the road that took me out of town and there was lots of traffic. Not to mention the fact that I was not yet too comfortable on a fully loaded bike.

"Once I got a little bit out of town, I realized that I was actually doing it, and that there was no turning back now. My heart soared. I let out a very hearty, very typically 'Jeff' laugh. An elephant laugh, as some like to call it. HA!"

"I was completely enthralled by what some would call 'a whole lot of nothing' or 'noman's land' (NoPERSON's land...) With corn to the left of me, soy to the right of me, my bike beneath me and below that, the road, I was in my element. It was an element I never would have known to be my own, as I had never gone on a long distance bike ride before."

It was a short day because I had left the grocery store in the early afternoon, so I think I only went about 25 or 30 miles this day (I don't have a computer on my bike, nor did I have a quality map at this point, so I was never quite sure how far I actually went). I arrived at Weldon springs and set up camp. I made a shelter with the tarp and a backpacking hammock that my dad had lent me. I went for a nice swim out to the middle of the lake and swam past some kayakers who were having a debate about whether the drinking age should be lowered or not. After drying off with my car shammy, "The Absorber" and having a bit of dinner (vegetable sandwich on a bagel that Christine swiped for me from the motel's continental breakfast earlier that day), I went down to the lake and contemplated the immensity of the world, and how surrounded I felt. I was so far away from anything I knew, and yet I felt comforted by this, almost like I was wrapped in a big squishy blanket.

A moment to explain myself

It is after much deliberation and seventeen days of biking through seven of these United States of America that I have finally decided to start a blog. It was hard to convince myself to start blogging because on a very basic level, I have always found a certain level of vanity in the subject. If you are reading this, then you know me, and you know that I am a fairly humble person, so the idea of publicizing the happenings of my life was hard for me to get on board with. It seemed vain and presumptuous of me to think that anybody would want to hear about how I spend my days.

I have come to realize, however, that you care about me, just as I care about you. Just as I like to be up to date with your thoughts, feelings, trials, tribulations, triumphs, and failures, it occurred to me that you may be curious about the same things in my life. Moreover, I still feel that an account of bland, normal, everyday happenings is a little pointless; but the past month and a half of my life has been far from bland or normal, and there are some stories that need to be told and heard. That is, after all, the point of stories. If these things I have been experiencing go untold and unheard, then they lose their meanings, and they may as well have never happened.

My intent is to share with you the things that I have encountered that I have found value in. Things that have made me think, or learn, or laugh, or cry, or feel SOMETHING. On the 24th of August, I left Colorado and all that I knew to go on trip. Ever since then, I have done a good job of documenting the trip in my journal. I will sort through the entries and post the worthwhile things, and it will be a game of catch-up to get you caught up to present time. Then it will be more like a normal blog, where the posts are actually posted close to the date of the event's unraveling.

This trip has restored and revitalized my faith in humanity. You will see why as the stories begin to unfold. Thanks for listening.