Landscape

Having missed so much in my blog of the play-by-play as I travel along (I simply can't make daily posts due to logistics), I want to give you at least a good idea of what I'm seeing out there. I think a description of the landscape I pass through, or at least the highlights, is in order.

Virginia--

As I said in my first on-the-road post, urban and suburban opened up to fields of wheat interspersed with cyprus swamp. There was a lot more forest than I imagined in the state, as it was the first state to really be settled. I think the great-American forest has begun to retake what it has lost in the state of Virginia. After Waverly, there were also a lot of clear-cut sections of forest. It showed an interesting duality of the serenity of nature and the scars of man's manipulation of nature. I can't say I understand the situation of the area, not being a resident, but it is jarring none-the-less to see big swaths of tree stumps. I do know that in forests before Waverly, the areas were also logged (as described by one of their residents at dinner) but they were only thinned and retained what seemed to be a healthy air about them.

The hills got bigger as we approached Charlottesville, and became mountains on our first day out after C-ville. We climbed Aftin Mt. (sp?) up to the Skyline Drive of the Blue Ridge Parkway. It was an exhausting and hot day, but the vistas made it very worth it. Into Lexington was a rush-- Jen Hunt and I made it out of the mountains down some very fast swichbacks only to be chased by a very threatening thunderstorm into town. Nothing makes you pedal with some gusto like fear of mortal danger.

The morning into West Virginia was also a memorable one. We followed a river down the valley and through mountain passes. This prepared us for the 3 big climbs into...

West Virginia--

The scenery of the Monongahela Forest around Marlinton, WV is simply stunning. While the steep grades and frustration of the ever-rising road around every turn seems too much, the downhills and the vistas make it all worth it. I remember the wind on the top of that day's first mountain at our lunch stop clearly. I also will not forget the ride into Marlinton, following the river and the sun shining golden on the water and trees as I rode in.

Even more vivid is my memory of WV-150 the next day. We rode up through the fog and finally onto the clear mountaintop that morning. The openings showed a landscape that looked like little islands popping through a sea of cloud. I also remember how the road rose in long straight swaths so that you could see everyone in front of you for miles. It was a scene that invokes a lot of pride as a cyclist. The downhills from there were amazing and again descended into gentle hills following a mountain stream and winding through forest.

The rest of WV was unfortunately unmemorable-- a lot of really bad roads and occasional rude motorists.

Ohio-- a lot like the latter days of WV. Hilly and forested. The roads were more treacherous since the Ohioan road designing committee is unaware of the concept of the switchback. While the climbs were not as high, they were much more steep-- as were the descents. Very scary at times.

Indiana--

My home state put on a great showing. The towns of Columbus, Bloomington, and surprisingly Terre Haute were all very impressive in how much they had to offer in restaurants, coffee, architecture, etc. The scenery was lovely rolling Brown County and other such landscapes of Southern Indiana. Bravo, home state.

Illinois--

I have very few nice things to say about central Illinois, so I will say very little. Crowded highways and lack of scenery do not make for fun times.

Missouri--

We followed the Katy Trail for much of Missouri. It's a gravel trail that runs along the Missouri River from St.L to KC. The landscape was nice enough, though very swampy. We ran into a lot of flat tires (though not myself, thankfully) and realized that the place was swarming with mosquitoes. It was like something out of a bad horror movie, as people would get stopped and yell to their riding companions, "Keep going, save yourself!" Unfortunately my selfishness and survival instinct kicked in, and I was one of the ones that didn't stop. But I don't itch as much.

The ride into KC was one of the trip highlights for me. It was an near-century (95 miles) and we had glorious weather for it. The highways were mostly deserted and we had long rolling stretches of farmland and clumps of trees. Again, we ran into the duality of the situation as we passed a few of the mega-farms that raised poultry. The area around them was rather pungent in a way that contrasted sharply with the wildflowers and fresh farm smell that we had gotten used to that morning.

Kansas--

It was how I imagined it. A lot of farmland, rolling hills, brutal storms. We were caught in a wicked thunderstorm on our way to Lawrence. I had to take shelter in a ditch for a short time, while others rode out the lightning bolts under the porch of a farmhouse. Where I was luckily wasn't hit very hard-- I was just on the outskirts of it as it past, but I got pretty soaked. The next day was very similar-- we were threatened by two storm cells that luckily we threaded the needle between. Made for some good pictures, though.

And that takes me to the present in Manhattan, KS. I'll be sure to fill in more as it comes, though I can't verify how often I will be able to post.

Day Whatever

It has certainly been a while-- I am about to round out week 4ish of my Bike and Build experience, and I apologize for my stark lack of communication. To give at least an excuse, I will give you an idea of my typical day out of the last 28 of them...

5~630 am-- wake up, pack all of my material possessions into a heavy duty tupperware container and avoid doing something stupid like forgetting one of the many important duties: pumping up the tires, filling up water enough for the day, grabbing directions, buttering up my crotch with chamois butter, administering sunscreen. Any variation of forgetting these things, which I find myself doing fairly regularly results in some undue discomfort for later on.

730 am-- take off for the day's travels. Stop for interesting sites when they occasionally occur, but mostly the mantra is 'ever onward'. This may be up mountains, down steep descents, dodging traffic, avoiding potholes, struggling to stay up with the paceline, battling the wind at the front of a paceline, looking for shade to rest under during the many hot days that have been given.

10-12 am-- shove as much sustenance into my body as possible while balancing the possible after-effects of the food coma.

1-4 pm-- arrive beaten and battered to the host site. Stretch, shower, nap. Wake up in time for dinner where we mingle with the residents and give our spiel on affordable housing (but more importantly, repeat process of shoving calories into body to replace the 4000 calorie deficit from earlier in the day). This time the after-effects of the food coma are not on the radar. Think of Thanksgiving every day and the passing out after watching football. Now imagine you cycled 70 miles before eating your Thanksgiving meal. Now imagine you went back and piled a second Thanksgiving meal onto your plate just for good measure. This is close to what happens most days.

6-9-- succumb to the dreaded food coma. If you have presence of mind, you do any maintenance that needs to be done on your bike, pamper your wounds from the saddle or otherwise from earlier, or just eat another round of dinner just to be safe. The thought of preserving your experience for the ages usually passes through your head during this time at some point, but it's usually fleeting and trumped by the thought of getting a bowl of frosted flakes. All of your memories from the day or previous days seem to blend together anyway. Logging them would be like picking out gems from a pile of gravel.

9-10 pm-- Pass out on your thermarest and spend the night dreaming of cycling. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

Thus my predicament. When it comes to the choice between finding good internet access (a big luxury) for blogging and pampering my rear, I choose the latter. I hope you can understand.

More later, perhaps on some of the locales I've been through but for now, sleep.

Day 2

This a journal post that I made for the official B&B site for Saturday May 22. I would fill in the blanks from day 1 and today (day 3) but they are not as interesting. Day one was a lot of city/suburban cycling. Today was long with a lot of hills. Very rough on the legs and making me wish I had gotten a better night of sleep and a bigger breakfast.

Anyhoo, here's the post from day 2...

Great day. Period.

Today was, to me, the true start of Bike and Build. After shrugging off the first day jitters, getting a feel for each other's personality and biking styles, and nursing a few opening day sunburns, things began to mesh. We were a true cycling force.

It was a day of transitions. The landscape had changed from suburban to rural, leaving the coastal by-waters of VA Beach for long stretches of farmland, forest, and cypress marshes. The roads became comfortably sparse of motorist, allowing us to ride two abreast for much of the time. The day started off cool and cloudy-- a good respite from yesterday's heat-- but the sun opened up on the rolling wheat fields as the day progressed. Pavement transitioned to a challenging but passable gravel roads back to and back to pavement. A friendly but misguided "Congratulations!" was chalked on the asphalt after the end of the gravel only to find that a few miles down the road it became gravel again. In the grand scheme of things, the gravel stretches were a minor inconvenience compared to the motor-free solitude meandering by old farmhouses through on weedy forest byways.

For me personally, it was a day of surprises. The stretches of open road were great for discovering the life stories of my new cycling family. Most exciting to me was the epiphany of being able to ride hands free for the first time ever with the coaching of my riding group. I'm sure the skill will be an asset to my butt for the rest of the trip. My final surprise was stopping at Brittles Mill Pond, not far out of Waverly, to take a quick dip in the deliciously cool spring fed water (not for drinking, though-- it's full of brown goo). Off the dock there, we met Howard and Brown Dawg. Howard was enjoying the day fishing and kicking back from his construction job during the week. When he heard what we were doing, he just busted with good-will. Our last day cycling is a day before his birthday-- he wished us well and said to have a drink on him once we were done.

Getting into Waverly, we explored the highlights of the small town-- McFlurries, chicharones, and sweet potato candy on the way to the Peanut/Folk Art/Wood Museum. Most of us were very charmed and very confused. The one elderly guide of the museum was overwhelmed by 20+ people and had to call in the reinforcements (her husband) to accommodate us all. Apparently the focus of the museum, the departed artist Mr. Carpenter, was one of two folk artists ever invited to meet the President (Reagan). Some of the pieces were on loan from the White House, apparently. Also-- there is no flash photography. Be warned.

Dinner was provided by Waverly UMC, and it was a small piece of heaven. Green bean casserole, Staufer's macaroni and cheese, pimento loaf, spinach salad, apples and caramel, and the crown jewel-- homemade fried chicken-- were there to keep us warm and happy that night.

The evening closed with a hearty round of massage train and card games into the evening. This day will be hard to top, but with the way things look they will only get better from here. Cheers!

(PS- no pictures for now. I'll post some when I get the chance.)

Open Road

A quick preface... these pictures are from a recent 50 mile ride through Putnam County with Kelsey (NUS '10 rider) on the left, Britt (fellow CUS '10 rider) in the middle, and of course me on the right.

AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)

3

You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.

You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!
You rows of houses! you window-pierc'd facades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has touch'd you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

4

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv'd in the open air, and all free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.

5

From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,
I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

6

Here is the test of wisdom,
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it,
Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul.

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

7

Here is the efflux of the soul,
The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower'd gates, ever provoking questions,
These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood?
Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman's and man's good-will? what gives them to be free to mine?

8

The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,

Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character,
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman,
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old,
From it falls distill'd the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

9

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.

The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here,
However shelter'd this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while.

--Walt Whitman Song of the Open Road

Putnam County Training Ride

It's been a while since my last post, and much has happened...

In December I mounted a successful letter-writing campaign, getting me about 40% of the way to my fund raising goal. In February my Giant Defy II arrived, and I made many investments to make it road-ready. In March, the snows melted and I could finally take my bike off it's trainer and onto the road. I've since put about 250 road miles of training in and had one 6-hour pedal-a-thon to raise funds and awareness.

Two days ago, on a whim, I decided to take my bike out to Putnam County and go on a sort of 'covered bridge tour'. I started at DePauw, my undergrad alma mater, and made a loop around the mostly deserted country roads.

On my route I started out eastward, swung around Heritage Lake, went north toward Bainbridge, IN. In between I found a goat farm with the classic Indiana barnyard scene below.
I also found some friendly burros and a horse on CR 800 N toward Bainbridge.


A few miles down the road, I realized I'd made a mistake in my route planning as my road turned to all gravel and potholes. Unfortunately it was the only direct route to the covered bridge I was aiming to see. Therefore I got some welcomed rest from the saddle and walked 2 miles to get to Pine Bluff Bridge.




From Pine Bluff Bridge the road got more passable and I turned south and west toward Clinton Falls.


It's a brave time to be alive here in the early spring. It's a wonder that the daffodils made it through the frost last week and burst forth in glorious yellow as if nothing happened.

Right out of Clinton Falls is the Edna Collins bridge, a supposedly haunted covered bridge. The story goes that a girl and her father would visit the bridge in the summer time. The father would allow the girl to go swimming in the Little Walnut Creek as he waited in his car then drive up to the bridge as it was getting dark, honk 3 times, and she would come out and get in the back seat. One day the girl drowned in the creek as her father waited and has haunted it since. As my friends from DePauw and I have tried, the modern part of the story is that if you do the same as her father (arrive at the bridge near sundown and honk 3 times) your windows will fog up, a handprint will appear, and your backseat will get wet.

Personally I think the effects of the story is that your windows are rolled up and the car-mates are breathing heavily (thus the fogging) and at some point someone wets themselves (thus the back-seat moisture).

For the rest of the trip I spent my time dodging the many free-running dogs of Putnam County. It seems like every farmer seems to have some sort of Rottweiler or Pitt bull or combination thereof. At one point, I had four different dogs after me. The only time it got testy, though, was one German Shepherd that thought it would be a good idea to run right in front of me and then stop. He almost got a tire sandwich, but we both made a necessary dodge and ended up okay.

This was good practice for my trip, I think, as I am finding what combination of speed or slowness is needed. That is, if you go to slow the dogs will be all over you if they so decide to chase. If you go too fast, however you will escape them faster but the seasoned chasers will think you a worthy adversary and will not stop until you are being knawed upon. I found that 11 mph is about the right speed to keep a low profile, but I guess it probably varies from dog to dog. Most are just doing their jobs defending the property and will give up after you're past their territory. I don't count it against them. It makes the trip a bit more interesting, even.

At the end of the journey, as I approached the edge of Greencastle again, I came upon Dunbar Bridge. I had gone about 57 miles at this point and was ready for some Marvin's Frank's Fries, and to get back before it got dark.

The Affordable Housing Cause

The place in which we live-- be it a house, an apartment, a high-rise, Section 8 housing, a teepee, the Biltmore Estate-- is a major character in our lives. It is where we spend the majority of our time. It is where the bonds with other people are first formed, the setting for interaction with family. It is the ground where first steps are made, launching pad for first days of school, photo backdrop for senior proms. A home’s front door may be the threshold through which many new couples enter. In a few words, it is like the physical embodiment of a family photo-album, the place where memories are both made and stored.

It is also where, as and adult, much of one’s financial and personal investment is represented. Being able to obtain quality housing leads to some of life’s proudest moments: moving into one’s first place away from the parents, owning one’s own first home, having the equity from a house to take out a loan and start one’s own business. We as a country even go so far as to make owning a home part of the cultural ‘American Dream’, though white picket fences are less popular than they used to be.

On the opposite side of the coin, because housing’s importance is so central to our lives it can be one of the biggest detriments and burdens. The loss of a home from fire, flood, or other natural disaster can be devastating both financially and psychologically. The inability to afford quality housing leads some people to accept living in situations with overcrowding, excessive cold or heat, noise, pests, lack of security, structural deficiencies, mold-- the list goes on and on. Others are forced to pay a disproportionate percentage of their income to obtain decent housing.

The lack of cheap housing can compound the problems of poverty, making it harder to save or allocate toward food, healthcare or other important needs. According to statistics from Habitat for Humanity 95 million people, about 1/3 of the nation, have housing problems including overcrowding, poor quality shelter, homelessness, and high-cost burden (about 16 million paying over 50% of their income toward housing).

The National and World Housing Plight

The recent bursting of the ‘housing bubble’ and the resulting recession has created an increase of a two-pronged affliction: home foreclosures and job losses. Last year saw the collapse of the housing market as sub-prime loans from poor investments shook banks worldwide. In the shuffle, it wasn’t just people who had bought McMansions and couldn’t afford them who lost their houses. As the recession kicked in and people lost their jobs, even responsible families became unable to pay for the house they owned.

According to the US Department of Labor, since the beginning of the recession the number of unemployed people has increased by 7.6 million to a total of 15.1 million; the unemployment rate has doubled to 9.8% as of October. In turn the percentage of foreclosures in the second quarter of 2009, according to the US Department of Housing and Urban Development, was at a record high of 9.12% out of all mortgage loans.

People in this rough financial situation face the sobering possibilities of downgrading to substandard housing quality or, on the drastic end, to transitional shelters or tent cities. Last year when I served in AmeriCorps in Sacramento, CA, a tent city there reached national prominence for its 200+ residents along the American River Greenway. Local newspapers were filled with stories of regular people pushed out of jobs and out of houses by the unfortunate financial situation. Living in the tent community was their last and very unwanted option.

It is also important not just to look within our borders at the problem of substandard housing; it is a global issue worthy of addressing. According to Habitat for Humanity International, presently about a billion people—32% of the world’s urban population—live in urban slums. If no action is taken, according to the UN, that number will double in the next 30 years.

Through all of this, one can easily see that at this point in history the need for decent, affordable housing is particularly strong in America and the rest of the world.