The 10 Hour Bike-A-Thon

This August I'm embarking on an adventure with Bike & Build's Drift West trip to bike 900 miles from Portland, OR to Bellingham, WA. My goal is to fundraise $2,250 before the trip to help benefit the affordable housing cause in the U.S. Thanks to the incredible generosity of friends and family, I've raised $1,561.75 so far.

On Saturday, June 13th I'm going to ride my bike for 10 consecutive hours for a Bike & Build fundraiser I'm calling the 10 HOUR BIKE-A-THON. I want you to be a part of it. Here's how the game works:

1. You pledge an amount PER MILE that you're willing to donate to the Bike-A-Thon.
2. I bike for 10 consecutive hours and see how many miles I can ride.
3.  a x b = $, where "a" represents the amount you pledge per mile, "b" represents the number of miles I bike in 10 hours, and "$" represents your donation to Bike & Build.
4. Everyone celebrates for supporting affordable housing!

Get it? It's kind of like gambling...with a purpose. Here's a handy little chart so you can calculate what your pledge could end up amounting to:

How to Make a Pledge:

• Send me an email at katy.branston@gmail.com with your pledge amount by June 12th
• Call or text me at 901-246-9197 with your pledge amount
• Send me a Facebook message, leave a comment, write a letter, etc. It's simple, really. 
• Note: I will email or call you with the final mileage and instructions on how to make your donation to Bike & Build (there are also several channels for donation via this blog). Please plan to make good on your pledge within a week of the Bike-a-Thon or I shall bike to your house, knock on your front door, and demand the pledge in person!! Only kidding, but really...

FAQs:

• How many miles are you going to ride? I don't know! That's the fun. There are a lot of variables - the weather, the road conditions, my riding ability, unexpected bike repairs, my temptation to stop at every diner/cafe/bakery - who knows what could happen! The most I've ever ridden in a day is 110 miles, and my goal is to ride 150 miles in 10 hours, if that helps your guesswork. 
• How is your mileage being verified? I'll have a bike computer that will display the number of miles I've ridden and the duration of the ride. I can send you a picture of the screen to prove it. Also I'll have friends riding along with me at various points who can verify the mileage. Also, WHY WOULD I LIE?!!? I am not a liar. Even when it comes to raising money, no, ESPECIALLY when it comes to raising money. 
• Will the ride be supported? Sort of. I'm planning to carry everything I might need for 10 hours on a bike in my camelbak. I'm also recruiting friends to ride sections with me to help be my support squad, cheerleaders, pacers, windbreakers, food providers and more. Do you live in the Flathead Valley and want to join in the fun? Let me know!
• Do you plan on stopping? Yes, but there will be no dillying and definitely no dallying. I'm gonna be on the clock, yo! Let's just say I have a bit of a competitive edge and will have the motivation of raising money for a cause I care about deeply, so I will only stop when needed. 
• Where are you going to ride? While I haven't mapped out the specific route yet, I'll be mapping out a carefully designed route throughout the Flathead Valley that will take terrain, elevation change, road conditions, bike infrastructure, scenery, traffic, convenience, and more into consideration. It's going to be one giant tour of this beautiful part of Northwest Montana that I call home.
• When are you doing this? Why 10 hours? The Bike-A-Thon is taking place on Saturday, June 13th from 7:00 am to 5:00 pm. I thought about doing 12 hours, but 10 sounds more manageable and 5:00 sounds like a nice time for a beer. 
• Why would you want to ride a bike for 10 consecutive hours? I love riding my bike. I love riding long distances to challenge myself. I love Bike & Build and care about affordable housing. This fundraiser is a no brainer, really. It's also a personal challenge that seems like a fun way to push my limits and engage my friends and family in a FUNraiser, rather than simply asking for money. 

That said, this is me asking you for money. In the form of a pledge. For the 10 HOUR BIKE-A-THON! 

How much are you willing to pledge? How many miles will I ride? Let's find out!!

Penguin Sighting in Columbia Falls, MT

8:32 a.m. First penguin sighting

On clear Saturday mornings at Habitat for Humanity Flathead Valley's neighborhood in Columbia Falls, MT, a rogue penguin can often be seen wandering the street. I spotted the penguin yesterday while painting siding from the porch roof of our current build site and observed his behavior from above. The penguin does not appear to be a threat to the neighborhood, as he waddles the streets looking for a friend to play with and examining what's going on at the build site. He's a little shy when approached and seems happiest when he is left alone to roam. Unless, that is, he finds a friend with a bike.

9:07 a.m. The penguin finds a friend

The penguin's name is Trevor*. He lives in a Habitat house and loves penguins. Ask him about the movie "Happy Feet" and he'll do a penguin dance for you. His room is covered in penguins, and he often wears a full-body penguin costume.

Trevor's life has not always been so carefree. He lives with his aunt who says that before they moved into a home, Trevor could not sleep through the night. Now that they have their own home and Trevor has his own bedroom (covered in penguins), he can sleep through the night peacefully.

This is just one small example of how permanent, safe, affordable housing can improve a child's life and why I care about working for Habitat for Humanity, raising money for Bike & Build, and advocating for affordable housing. It gives families stability, security, and a future.

And the penguins can sleep soundly at night.

*this is a name I made up

Interview with a soon-to-be Habitat Homeowner

Hard at work completing sweat equity hours

Why does affordable housing matter? On a larger scale, it is a huge crisis in our country affecting millions of people in every state. On a smaller scale, it matters because hard-working people like Michelle, a soon-to-be Habitat homeowner, deserve an affordable place to live to provide security and stability for themselves and their children.

I work for Habitat for Humanity Flathead Valley, and last weekend I caught up with one of our family partners on the build site to hear her side of the story. Michelle is a 27-year old single mother who works as an administrative assistant for Red Lion Hotel. Her 4-year old son, Johnny, likes the movie Cars and the color blue. Here’s what she had to say:

How did you hear about Habitat?

My best friend is a Habitat homeowner and encouraged me to apply for the program.

Had you been hoping to buy a home before you partnered with Habitat?

Oh yeah. It’s pretty much been a goal my whole life. I couldn’t find a home that I could afford, even with splitting the mortgage payments with my grandparents. The houses that were in my range were total crap and I couldn’t afford to fix them up. So I gave up on that.

Why do you think home ownership is important?

I want to own a home because it gives my son a future and stability. And it’s mine. I can do whatever I want with it.

What was your living situation like before Habitat and how will that change?

I lived in a subsidized housing apartment complex with really strict rules. Nobody gets together and I don’t know any of the neighbors. Here I’ll have neighbors to get together with. Johnny will have friends to play with.

What will this change mean for you financially?

The financial difference is huge. I’ll be paying $488 for mortgage instead of $605 renting and I won’t have to pay gas or renter’s insurance, and I’ll have better heating at $17-$23 a month. I’ll actually be able to start saving. Now my tax returns go to Johnny's clothes and fun things, but I’ll have more savings for the things he likes to do like monster trucks and going to Fun Zone.

Michelle's new neighborhood in Columbia Falls.

What is Johnny most excited about for your new home?

He keeps talking about how it’s his. Every time he sees a picture he’s like “Mommy that’s my room.” He already picked out wall decals from the movie Cars. He’s ecstatic about it.

What are you most excited about?

To own it and for it to be mine. To be here in Columbia Falls instead of Kalispell. There’s more community, not feeling like an outsider.

What’s the first thing you’re going to do once you move in?

Put up shelving in the bathroom. I literally have them waiting to be cut and hung up.

What’s been the most difficult thing about being a Habitat family partner?

For me, the pressure because of the deadline. My sweat equity hours and payments had to be done in less time, so I’m taking off time from work on Wednesdays to get my hours in and I’m out here every Saturday.

What’s been the most rewarding thing?

Getting to meet the different volunteers – the NCCC crew, the regulars that come out.

It’s taken 100s of volunteer 1000s of hours to build your house. What do you think of that?

I think it’s awesome but also nerve-wracking if they don’t know what they’re doing. I’m such a control person. I see them painting the walls and think if they don’t have a steady hand they’re going to get paint on my cabinets. It’s stressful but worth it in the end.

Do you feel like you’ve learned anything from putting in sweat equity hours on the build site?

I feel like I’ve learned a lot outside – siding, foaming, insulation. Inside I’ve done flooring and painting. I’m going to keep this house so clean.

10 Things I Love About Bike Travel

Spring has sprung, and to me that means one thing - cycling. After the long Montana winter, I am ready to dig my bike out of the basement, tune it up and hit the road. With upcoming spring rides in Yellowstone, Oregon, and the Kootenai River Valley, I need to get my bike legs back! Needless to say, I've got biking on the brain, which inspired me to write about the things I love most about bike travel.

T-storms from a winding road in Arizona

1. The SCENERY: Travelling by bike allows you to be deeply entrenched and aware of your surroundings. Whereas in a car or plane you might sit idly as the scenery passes you by, on a bike you are in it. You feel every gust of wind, every ray of sunshine, every slight variation in the grade of the road, and every single bump. And, trust me, there are lots of them. Your senses are heightened as you take notice of the little things that might have otherwise slipped past your consciousness, like a songbird whistling from the sagebrush in Oklahoma, the vivid redness of the rocks in Arizona, and even the stench of a thousand cattle in Texas. You feel it all because you are part of it.

Farmer talk in Texas

2. The LOCALS: Pull up to a gas station in a small town on a bike and I guarantee you’ll spark conversation with a local in no time. It’s like having a puppy or a baby – people feel compelled to talk to you, and any societal norms or stranger danger is thrown out the window. Once you get past the basic questions – Where’d ya’ come from? Where ya’ headed?  – you might even discover a thing or two about the person and the place you’re in. Like Debbie, a flea market owner in OH who told me about the colorful history of Port Washington. Or the farmers I saddled up next to in a gas station in TX to talk weather and crops. Suddenly all those soybean fields we passed got a little more interesting.

3. The FOOD: Although this list is in no particular order, food really should be #1, but I thought that would be too superficial of me. It’s pathetic how much of my motivation to bike comes from the guilt-free food frenzy that it facilitates. The reality is that when you spend 6-8 hours on a bike, your thoughts are mostly occupied by food, or at least mine are. Cravings are boiled down to the basics – carbs, fat, protein, salt, sugar - GIVE ME ALL THE CALORIES! The act of eating becomes primal and the pleasure taken from it immeasurable. My favorite bike travel treats include Snickers bars, ice cream, chocolate milk, chicken (in any form), and the occasional gas station breakfast sandwich. Hold the judgment.

4. The CAMRADERIE: Bike travel brings people together. The shared experience, joy, suffering, and adventure of it all can put you on the fast track from complete strangers to instant friends. My Bike & Build team last summer was like a family, and I get slaphappy when I get an email or see them on FaceTime. For the past few years, I’ve done rides in Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks with friends in Montana, a tradition I look forward year after year. Sometimes these rides might be the only time I see a friend all year, but every year there is a new adventure to be had and a new story to tell. Bike with me and you’re a friend for life.

5. The NOVELTY: Do you get tired of seeing the same things, having the same old routine day after day? Me too. With bike travel everything is new and exciting. I’m convinced that there is no better way to explore a new place than on two wheels. Now that I’m hooked on bike travel, I’m constantly trying to find ways to fit in rides anywhere I go. Even my own hometown of Memphis was cast in a new light when I took to the streets by bike. Read about it in my last blog entry back in November. 

6. The HOSPITALITY:  If you want to have your faith restored in the goodness of humanity and the kindness of strangers, go on a bike trip. In my bike travels, I’ve found that hospitality is very much alive and well, and not just in the South. While lost in central Italy, a man and his family led us in their minivan for miles into a town as my friends and I pedaled furiously to keep up. On Maine to Santa Barbara’s 110-mile marathon through the desert to Twenty Palms, CA last summer, a guy in an RV magically appeared with cold bottles of water handed out his window. I have countless stories like these. I’m not saying that every person I’ve encountered while riding a bike had been friendly, but kindness and generosity have far outweighed the assholes and rude drivers. 

A memorable climb from Sedona to Flagstaff, AZ

7. The CLIMB: I love hill climbs about as much as I love doing laundry. It’s a chore, but it has to be done, oftentimes more frequently than you would like. Climbing does not come naturally to me and is usually as much of a mental battle as it is a physical one. I have little tricks to distract myself on long ascents, like counting pedal strokes, repeating mantras, and singing songs and nursery rhymes over…and over…and over…until I get to the top…of this STUPID HILL. But the feeling of satisfaction and relief that comes from summiting a challenging hill is far greater than the joy of freshly laundered clothes. It is a battle that you fought and won. And victory is sweet.

Soaking in the view after a long descent in New Mexico

8. The DOWNHILL: Coasting down a hill on a bicycle is the greatest feeling on the planet. Fact. Any memory of the struggle it took to get up it is immediately washed away and replaced with pure, childlike glee. Riding down hills takes me back to my 6 year-old self, flying down my driveway in a plastic red fire engine into the street as my dad nervously watched for traffic. And I distinctly remember the first heart-pounding descent I ever rode while on a bike overnight in Italy. Once I got over the initial fear and settled into the speed, I sang opera at the top of my lungs the whole way down. The tune was lost in the wind along with every other care in the world.

9. The UNEXPECTED: Just when you think everything is going smoothly on a bike trip, shit can (and probably will) hit the fan. You get five flats in a row. Your nice tailwind turns into a 30 mph soul-sucking headwind. The road is closed due to flash floods forcing a lengthy reroute in the middle of the desert. And what do you do? You keep on riding. Easily the most memorable days of my cross-country trip last summer were the ones where we got lost, the weather turned on us, and nothing went according to plan but we managed to enjoy ourselves anyways. No rain, no rainbows.

10. The SIMPLICITY: Bike travel really is simple. All you need is your bike, some clothes and gear, maybe a friend or two, a map/route and the determination to embrace whatever surprises may come your way. Then you just sit back and enjoy the ride. At the end of the day, you’re just riding your bike from one place to the next.

When's you're next ride? 

Biking in Memphis: It's not as scary as you think

Seeing Memphis from a different angle

Now that I've completed my cross-county bike ride, I've made it my mission to continue cycling as much as I possibly can before the Montana roads are covered in snow. So when I made an unexpected trip back to my hometown of Memphis, TN for a memorial service, I figured I'd make the best of it and get some late-season warm weather riding in (along with some Mom/Dad time). I borrowed  a bike from a neighbor and took to the streets on two wheels.

I've biked in and around several large cities - Portland (OR & ME), Pittsburgh, Columbus, St. Louis, Denver, and even Pie Town, NM (population 153) - and to my surprise have found that I enjoy urban riding and the thrills that come along with it. But Memphis still seemed daunting to me, moreso than other cities, and anyone who's lived there probably understands my initial reservations. The thing is, Memphis drivers are notoriously awful. As one of my friends once put it, "They were trained by kamikaze pilots". Not to mention, growing up in Memphis there was very little bike infrastructure to welcome and protect cyclists on the road (I came to find out this has improved). Some of the neighborhoods are "sketchy" and you could easily find yourself in  bad spot, I've been warned. I may not have lived in Memphis for the last ten years, but I've still got sweet tea and barbecue sauce running through my veins, I still root for the Tigers and the Grizzlies, and I still get just as defensive as the next Memphian when my hometown is made out to be nothing but an obesity-plagued, violence-filled outcast that belongs in some kind of fat-camp-penitentiary for misfit cities. I wanted to see if biking the streets of big, bad Memphis was as scary as I thought.

Big wheels keep on turnin'

I set out from Midtown on a clear, crisp morning with the intention to ride for about 20 miles. Following mostly along the city's designated bike routes (yes, we have those!), I wound through quiet Midtown streets until I hit McLean and headed to north Memphis, one of those "sketchy" parts of town I'd been warned about. I was guided by clear signage, both to designate the bike route and to inform drivers of bikes on the road. I enjoyed bike lanes and "share the road" symbols on the streets the majority of the way. Cars passed courteously at a safe speed and distance. Pedestrians were no sketchier than my neighbors down the street; however, I did get some stares and funny looks, granted I was decked out in full neon. From north Memphis I headed west towards the Mississippi River and caught part of the Mississippi River Trail, a network of bikeways from the headwaters in Itasca, MN to the Gulf of Mexico. The roads brought me into Harbor Town and alongside the Greenbelt path next to the river with views of the iconic "M" bridge and Pyramid.

Grinding my gears along the Grindhouse

Up and over the hump of the Auction St. bridge and I found myself in the heart of downtown Memphis, enjoying another mile or two of bike lanes along the river before turning into the more congested downtown area. A bumpy jaunt up construction-filled South Main led me to Midtown Bike. The store owner was eager to swap stories and opinions about bike travel, telling me about a group of 100 people on tandems who came through this summer. He felt hopeful about the state of bike commuting and cycling in Memphis, especially with the promise of the Harahan Bridge Project underway, an effort that will convert one of Memphis' old bridges into a bikeway across the Mississippi River connecting downtown Memphis to neighboring Arkansas. I can't wait to ride it. Leaving the shop I dodged and hopped the trolley tracks along South Main (not an area I'd recommend for bikes) and made my way past the Lorraine Motel, along the FedEx Forum, and down Beale Street. Downtown riding was a little more technical and stop-and-go with more intersections and traffic, but cars were no less aware or respectful of me and my bike as I cruised along my favorite Memphis landmarks.

Lunch of champions

Name that flavor

I had initially planned to make my way back to my house from here and call it a day, but I was enjoying the ride so much I had to keep going. Plus I had to ride off the lunch I'd eaten at Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken. So I jumped onto another of the city's bike routes and headed east on Peabody and Central. These were two of my favorite streets to ride, with little traffic and wide lanes bordered by beautiful old Central Gardens homes. I rode past the shops and restaurants of the Cooper-Young district, the Pink Palace, and the bustling University of Memphis campus. Turning back north on Goodlett, there were a few busier intersections but nothing you can't handle without a little patience and some friendly hand signals. At one point while trying to merge left as car after car passed me I thought, "Yes, my left arm sticking out means that I would like to move in that general direction" - to no avail. Drivers didn't seem to be all that used to seeing cyclists on the roads, which hopefully will change as bike commuting increases in the city. I continued to Graham, past one of my old schools, Grahamwood Elementary, until I reached Jerry's Sno Cones - home to the most heavenly, syrup-dripping sno cones found anywhere. After staining my tongue red and ensuring a certain spike in my blood sugar, I continued northbound on Graham and Highland, returning to north Memphis before turning back down McLean into Midtown. Still not wanting the ride to end, I took a leisurely spin around my favorite Midtown spots - the Memphis Zoo, Overton Park, Brooks Museum and the Levitt Shell.

By the time I reached my house I had ridden roughly 40 miles around the heart of Memphis (route map here). I saw the city in a new light, from a new angle, up close and personal. I saw places familiar to me from childhood and places I had never seen before. I found the neighborhoods friendly and the streets safe. In four hours of riding I didn't get honked at, yelled at, close-passed, or cut off by Memphis drivers. The one time a car did swing its turn partially into the bike lane, it had a Texas license plate.

So that's where all my stolen bikes ended up...

Am I saying Memphis drivers and streets are perfect for biking? No. On any other given day, could I have encountered rude, crazy drivers? Yes. But overall I didn't experience anything that corroborated the preconceived notions I held about how scary and dangerous it would be to bike the streets of Memphis. It should also be noted that I was practicing safe riding by wearing a helmet and bright clothing, using hand signals, staying in the right of the lane, riding predictably, and remaining extremely vigilant as I rode. Failure to ride safely and making poor decisions will put you in more danger than any kamikaze driver. Be smart, be safe, and get out there and bike Memphis. It's not as scary as you think. You might even discover that you like it.




Where to ride? 
Try these out for starters (click for websites/maps):

Shelby Farms Greenline
Overton Park
City of Memphis bike routes
Shelby Forest State Park
Katy's Tour de Memphis route
Ride to Randolph route

Final Weeks - Arizona to California

Admittedly, I slacked off on my blogging duties during the last two...err...three...weeks of the trip. I chalk it up to "living in the moment" like my dad encouraged me to at the start of the trip. I was trying to savor every last minute of the experience instead of sitting in front of a screen. And I didn't have good internet. And I was tired. And the dog ate my iPad. Ok, you get the point. Nevertheless, I want to do some retro-blogging mostly for selfish reasons, so that I can have this blog to look back on and jog my memory of the trip of a lifetime. So here's a play-by-by of the last three weeks of the trip, and once I've had the time to settle down and wrap my brain around all of this, maybe I'll even write up some final thoughts filled with all kinds of inspiration and life-changing realizations.

Arizona Week 2

Sedona to Flagstaff: Having passed through Sedona before, I knew it would be a scenic ride, albeit a long one (90 miles). I was a little bummed to be driving the van that day, but the view through the window wasn’t half bad. As we approached Sedona, dark clouds loomed beyond the red rocks, quickly engulfing the town and casting an eerie shadow on the rock formations. By the time I reached the church with the van and trailer, a full-on storm had commenced, with thick sheets of rain and hail. What did our group do? They ran outside half naked and proceeded to take a “rain shower” while hollering like a bunch of bandits. Check out this time lapse video of the storm rolling in. 

The ride into Flagstaff the following day was a short 32 miles, but with nearly 3,000 ft of elevation gain on the winding road through Oak Creek Canyon. We were eager to explore Slide Rock State Park about 8 miles into the ride, with its natural rock slides and cliff-jumping sites that had been passed down by trip lore.  To our dismay, the swimming areas were closed off due to a recent forest fire, but that didn’t stop a handful of crazies from hucking themselves off the cliffs anyways. The remaining climb was pretty mystical – hairpin switchbacks up a canyon shrouded in mist that gradually turned into a steady rain as we approached the summit. The views were so stunning I nearly forgot about the fact that we’d been climbing for more than 10 miles. Once we reached the top of the pass and got off our bikes, the cold quickly set into our saturated bodies. Margaux and I found a space heater in the visitor center to warm up by – something I didn’t imagine myself doing in Arizona.

Flagstaff was easily one of my favorite towns of the trip, as it reminded me a lot of Missoula with it’s down-to-earth college town feel and abundance of outdoor recreation opportunities. I was glad we had a build day there to allow some extra time to explore the city. Our build day with the local Habitat chapter split us into several groups to complete various service projects around town, some building-related and some not. My crew completed our project at a new home construction site well before lunch, so we checked out some local shops and then joined forces with another crew in the afternoon to split firewood. I happily added the wood-splitter (vertical and horizontal varieties) to my power tool repertoire.

Grand Canyon:  Biking to the Grand Canyon was one of those surreal moments on the trip where I had to take a step back and think, “Wow, we are really doing this!”. The majority of the people in our group had never been to the Grand Canyon, so the anticipation was high. From the moment we arrived at the gateway town to the south rim entrance of the park, we were surrounded by international tourists, many of whom found our matching Bike & Build attire picture-worthy. We quickly made a game out of guessing the different languages and accents we heard around us. Once we settled into the campground we made our way to the canyon for first views and the mandatory photo shoot. Holding a bike above your head on the edge of the canyon was more nerve-wracking than the smile on the my face might suggest. Over the course of the next two days, I witnessed two sunsets and a sunrise over the canyon and hiked 6 miles down into the canyon (I try to forget the 6 miles back up it). We had campfires and star-gazing sessions to cap off our first two nights camping together and miraculously left the campground without a single noise complaint.

Williams to Parker: Our “day off” at the Grand Canyon left several of us even more sore than any day of biking or building. Coupled with the residual effects of dehydration and an upset stomach, the ride to Williams was not my finest. By the time I realized I was dehydrated about halfway into our 60 mile ride, there wasn’t much I could do besides put my head down and pedal. My body felt empty and weak, and my head was not in the game. Fortunately it was relatively easy terrain and I had a patient and supportive group to help me finish. When I arrived at the church I crashed on the couch for a nearly 3-hour nap. I hadn’t napped like that since the beginning of the trip! Our build day the following day was similar to Flagstaff, with varying service projects around the town. My crew completed what I’ll call “cemetery beautification”, which consisted of raking up pine needles into piles and loading them onto a bulldozer. Not my favorite build day project, but as always we made the best of it by playing games like inserting the word “rake” into as many song lyrics as possible (rake me up, before you go-go) and looking up tombstone names on ancestry.com. An afternoon storm (like clockwork in Arizona!) cut our day a couple hours short, so I used it as an opportunity to check out Williams, a classic Route 66 town with all of the touristy shops and diners you could want. I went for the pie shop that supposedly had better pie then Pie Town, according to an alum. The generous serving of key lime pie was creamy and delicious, yes, but nothing beats pie in Pie Town. 

The next day took us to Seligman, another town along Route 66 that might not exist if it weren’t for the historic road and the tourists that travel it. We were rained on much of the day, but fortunately it was a short ride that allowed us to get to the KOA campground early. After putting tents up, a group of us took over the campground pool for a rowdy game of “greasy pig”, which involves a Crisco-covered watermelon and a whole lot of near-drowning experiences. The predictable afternoon storm was a little gustier than usual and took down the majority of our poorly constructed tents, soaking some of our sleeping bags and pads in the process. Our third night of camping together, and we’d become quite the experts! The two remaining cabin rentals that were available were quickly snatched up, and we filled up every square inch of porch, floor and bunk space they had to offer.

I honestly don’t remember much about our ride the next day into Kingman, other than the fact that it was the site of our first In and Out Burger. The double cheeseburger, animal style fries, and milkshake must have clouded my memory.

At first I had to rack my brain to remember anything about the ride to Needles, AZ, and then I remembered the DONKEYS! How could I forget about the donkeys? After a steep climb up a narrow, winding two-lane road, we cruised down the other side and abruptly came to the old mining town of Oatman. A single strip of western-themed bars, cafes, and souvenir shops – it didn’t seem any different from the other small towns we’d encountered along Route 66. Until we saw the donkeys. Wild donkeys, or burros, roamed the streets and walkways with no regard for any car or human in their path. With a storm rolling in, Katie D. and I gladly took the opportunity to enjoy the sites and smells of Oatman. We did it all – toured a mineshaft, talked up the locals, spotted our first giant cactus, fell asleep at a bar to the tunes of a local cowboy, and even witnessed the donkey mating ritual performed in the middle of the street. Shield your eyes, children, it ain’t pretty. It was all downhill from Oatman, as we rode 15 miles down a teeth-chattering bumpy road without needing to pedal the whole way.

Needles to Parker was what we call our “surprise century” day. Due to a road closure, we had to backtrack and tack on an extra 20 miles to our 80-mile day to get to Parker. The team rallied in a big way to make the best of the unexpected challenge, with three lunches and a shaded tent village in the middle of the desert. I was sweeping that day, so I didn’t finish the ride until 6 pm or so. I live for the long days!

California

Twentynine Palms to Wrightwood: The words “Twentynine Palms” had been haunting us since we first saw the number 112 in the mileage column of the trip overview on the website. We’d been hyping up this day since the start of the trip, both nervous and eager for our longest ride day of the trip, in the middle of the desert nonetheless.  My most disappointing moment on the trip was probably a week prior to Twentynine Palms when I realized it would fall on my van day. I decided to suck it up and be the best damn support vehicle driver I could be. Aside from one rider who had a massive bug bite on his rear, every single rider completed the entire desert marathon with flying colors. Without any services (I mean ANY services) for nearly 80 miles of the ride, we had to be strategic about our water supply and consumption. With just enough water to fill up everyone after second lunch, everyone managed to get to the finish. Hetong and I rolled back in the van with cold Powerades and Snickers bars to help the last few groups through the remaining 20 miles. I have never been as proud of our group as I was when sweep and the final group rolled in to the host, completing such a challenging day as a team.

The next day to Victorville was another long one – 92 miles – and several people were hurting from the previous two days’ centuries. I was just happy there were services along the route, including a Mexican restaurant that my crew piled into for lunch. On second thought, loaded burritos on a 92 mile day may have been a bad choice.

Wrightwood was our last big challenge, and then it was literally all downhill from there (one of our trip mottos). The 34 miles would seem like nothing after back-to-back-to-back 90+ mile days, but we had some climbing to do. With such a short day, we were able to take the climb at a steady pace and stop at our leisure, which included a power nap on a bike shop’s porch. After about 15 miles of climbing, we were rewarded with a 5 mile downhill to the campground where we’d spend our last night of camping – and my favorite. Feuled by hobo packets cooked on the fire and a little wine to keep warm, we had our final “town hall” meeting followed by some spontaneous group singing and dancing around the fire. It was Sabo’s birthday, we had finished the last of our hard ride days, and the end was in sight, so you could say spirits were high.

Palmdale to Santa Paula: As promised, the ride to Palmdale was a lot of downhill and only 37 miles. With Jeff driving the van, Emily, Becca and I used the opportunity to have a “lady leader” ride and took our time, stopping for coffee and a flat or two to rehash our summer together. For our final build day, we worked with a different organization, YouthBuild. On our first night in Palmdale, the program director, Rossi, gave us an overview about what YouthBuild does and how it is changing lives by giving young people from low-income backgrounds an education and job skills while building affordable housing in their community. We saw the program in action the following day as we poured a concrete walkway around a new building on the program’s campus, which included affordable housing units for some of the neediest program participants. We worked alongside several guys in the program, and I enjoyed the conversations I had with them about how they got involved with YouthBuild and what it’s meant for them. Bike & Build has been working on this project for the last three years, and pouring of the concrete walkway marked the completion of the project. YouthBuild honored our group with a special dedication ceremony and plaque in the walkway, surrounded by each of our handprints. While in Palmdale, our team also completed our decision-making process for the doling out of $45,000 in grant money to affordable housing organizations and projects along our route and across the country, including:

Dayton Ohio Habitat for Humanity in Dayton, OH
BOTHANDS, Inc in Flagstaff, AZ
Yellow Springs Home, Inc in Yellow Springs, OH
Habitat for Humanity of North Central Mass in Fitchburg, MA
Pioneer Valley Habitat for Humanity in Florence, MA
Habitat for Humanity of MidOhio in Columbus, OH
Amarillo Habitat for Humanity in Amarillo, TX
Lexington Habitat for Humanity in Lexington, KY

Our ride to Santa Clarita after Palmdale included the most elevation gain and loss in a single day of the whole trip – namely because we spent most of the day on roller coasters at Six Flags Magic Mountain. We had a short 30-mile day to our host in Santa Clarita, which was only a couple miles from Six Flags, allowing for maximum riding time. Being at the end of the season and mid-week, lines were the least of our worries. We hit coaster after coaster, even lapping several that didn’t have lines at all. If only they had allowed bikes in the park, we could have hit even more rides.

Another 30-something mile day to Santa Paula, citrus capital of the world, and we were just one ride away from the finish line. We helped ourselves to oranges, pomegranates, avocados and more from the fruit stands and groves along the way. Our final host welcomed us with a personalized street sign and one last, glorious church potluck.

Santa Barbara: I remember going to bed after midnight the night before our ride into Santa Barbara thinking I’d never fall asleep. Not because I was sleeping on a church pew – I’d grown quite accustomed to that – but because I was so amped for what the next day would bring. I managed to get a few hours of sleep in, waking up before my alarm in the same frenzied state I’d fallen asleep in. This was it. The day I’d dreamed of for nearly 9 months. Today we were going to put on our jerseys, mount our bikes, and ride to the Pacific Ocean. 75 days before, we had done the same, only leaving the Atlantic. We had ridden our bikes across the entire U.S. We decided to make a “leader sandwich”, so Jeff and Emily lead the pack while Becca and I brought up the rear as sweep. We only had 40 miles to ride to Santa Barbara, and we made it to the coast in Ventura within the first 15. That first glimpse of the Pacific is a moment that will be forever etched in my memory. I remember yelling and lifting our bikes up and telling every stranger who passed by us “WE BIKED HERE”, as if expecting them to acknowledge or even remotely understand what that meant to us. We excitedly biked along the coast, stopping reluctantly for a group with a flat…then I got a flat…then Dan got a flat. Our eagerness to get to the group’s meeting spot couldn’t be stifled. Finally we rolled into the Santa Barbara cemetery, where our 30 teammates chanted “SWEEP, SWEEP, SWEEP” as we entered the gates. With our whole crew accounted for, we regrouped and rode en masse along the streets of Santa Barbara for the final mile, cheering, chanting and cow-belling the whole way. I can’t imagine what we looked like to the cars and people we passed. Once we arrived at the beach, we had to resist the urges to run immediately into the ocean or into the arms of friends and family so that we could all run into the Pacific as a unified group. With the American flag and a flag from each of the 18 states we passed through, we charged the beach the stormed into the ocean. The party that ensued was a blur of champagne and ocean spray, hugs and cheers amidst a wave pool that tried to push us apart every time we came together to form a huddle. We made it, all 33 of us, from Maine to Santa Barbara.

Delicate balancing act on the rim of the Grand Canyon

More to come on final thoughts and trip 

superlatives…

View from the top of Oak Creek Canyon

Warming up by the fire with Margaux

Pie in Williams to rival that of Pie Town

First burro sightings in Oatman

Leaving our mark on YouthBuild in Palmdale

Climbing some serious elevation with Jeff at Six Flags

Our welcome sign into Santa Paula

First ocean sighting with Becca

Storming the Pacific

4,000 miles later and a lot of practice lifting my bike over my head

My two biggest fans made it out for the finish

New Mexico and Arizona

Greetings from Payson, Arizona! Wait, we’re in Arizona already? How did that happen!? Well, by the numbers, we’ve gone…

3,069 miles in

56 days including

11 build days and

2 days off.

That means we have less than 1,000 miles to go in just 19 days, which includes 3 more build days and a day off at the Grand Canyon. I know these last few weeks are going to fly by, and I can practically taste the salty water of the Pacific that I’ve dreamed of every day for the last 2 months. Here’s an update from our trek through New Mexico and into Arizona.

NEW MEXICO:

Crossing into New Mexico leaves me with just three states left until I’ve visited all 50 (South Dakota, Alaska, and Hawaii, in case you’re wondering), and it easily takes the pie (see Pie Town below) for my favorite state of this trip. The landscape quickly changed from feedlots and farmlands to broken mesas and wide deserts filled with cactus, wildflowers, low shrubs, and pinyon pines (a shorter, bushier version of pine than the ponderosa I’m used to in Montana). Along with the barren yet beautiful geography come smaller towns and limited services, oftentimes meaning longer riding stretches with fewer breaks. We’ve learned to cherish every air-conditioned gas station, knowing the next one may not be for another 60+ miles. Fortunately the weather has been on our side, with unusually heavy late-summer rains keeping the state cool and green. The desert that I envisioned being chalky and brown has been surprisingly emerald and dotted with colorful flowers. What a nice surprise!

Portales – Our first New Mexican town of Portales welcomed us warmly into the state. We had a short 52-mile ride day, allowing for plenty of time to explore the town, which is home to Eastern New Mexico University, our host for the night. Staying on campus meant that we got beds for the second night in a row after our home stays in Friona. Dinner at First UMC was attended by mayor Sharon King, and I even got to sit next to her. After a meal of fried chicken and homemade casseroles, she surprised us with an official proclamation declaring Aug 2^nd Bike & Build Day in Portales. We even had a police escort out of the city the following morning, allowing all 32 riders and our support van to roll out en masse on the road to Roswell before splitting into smaller groups.

Roswell – We had a 90-mile, 90-degree day leading into our much-anticipated day off site of Roswell, home of the infamous Roswell UFO Incident of 1947. My riding partner J and I were greeted into town by a Sonic and without hesitation stopped for happy hour slushies (my favorite way to end a ride). That night we rallied our tired bodies for our very own prom, a Bike & Build tradition, complete with randomly selected dates, thrift store outfits, and group photos. The following day was our first day off in 5 weeks since Pittsburgh, which meant sleeping in and a full day to explore the area. I joined about a third of the crew on an excursion to Bottomless Lakes State Park about 15 miles outside of town. The park consists of a series of lakes formed by sinkholes ranging from 17-90 feet deep (ok, so they aren’t actually bottomless). We hiked around a few of the lakes and swam in and across the largest one, Lea Lake. The blue-green water felt so refreshing and surreal, as we were surrounded by an arid desert and huge rock formations. After the lakes, we continued our tour de Roswell by hitting up the Anderson Contemporary Art Museum, which featured an extensive exhibit from the Roswell artists-in-residence program. I was especially struck by the landscape paintings of the museum’s namesake artist, Don Anderson, as well as some whimsical hanging sharks made from reused golf club bags and vacuums. We ended the day by checking out some of the alien shops on the main drag, but I was quite underwhelmed by downtown Roswell and glad I spent the majority of my day elsewhere.

Carrizozo – I say this a lot, but our ride to Carrizozo really was my favorite of the trip thus far. I rode with Nick, and we started out our morning with a couple local Roswell cyclists cruising alongside us for the first 20 miles or so of the 90 mile day.  They were so enthusiastic about our journey and eager to share with us their knowledge of local geography and history. They told us we’d be ascending a hill where Billy the Kid once outran the local law enforcement to escape their jurisdiction into the adjacent county. We road extra hard over the hill and continued to follow the trail of Billy the Kid into Lincoln, where he was jailed with the intent to be hanged before he escaped, killing two guards in the process. We were conveniently halted by a rain shower in Lincoln and killed time exploring the historic buildings and hitting up the coffee shop. Another 20 miles or so down the road brought us to Capitan, the birthplace and burial grounds of Smokey the Bear.  Turns out the character is based on a cub that was found in a tree in the Capitan Mountains after getting separated from his mother in a wildfire. The remaining mileage to Carrizozo consisted of a big climb followed by a long descent, dropping 1500 feet into a picturesque valley with mountains jutting out on every side of us. How sweet it is to be surrounded by mountains! Carrizozo is a tiny town whose claim to fame is that the Book of Eli was filmed there and the first atomic bomb was tested right outside of town in 1945. The church that hosted us was incredibly gracious and eager to host us and provide meals, despite the town being plagued by poverty and the resulting problems. The pastor urged us “don’t forget about us”, referring to small towns across America being viable options for a place to make a home and a difference.

Socorro – Five miles outside of Carrizozo on our route to Socorro was the Valley of Fires Recreation Area, an old lava flow that we ventured through by bike on a paved walkway (perhaps not intended for bikes, but it was empty at 7 in the morning, so we figured what the heck!).  My legs were sore and stubborn after the climbing and long mileage from the day before, but as always, the ever-changing scenery and conversation with my riding partner Rose helped me through the day. We crossed the Rio Grande, which was toffee-colored and less grand than its name would suggest. Our host in Socorro was conveniently located across the street from New Mexico Tech’s campus, where we talked our way into the pool for a competitive game of 4-4 pool basketball with some local kids. I quickly forgot about the soreness in my legs and butt.

Pie Town – Our last full day in New Mexico was a ride to the tastiest town on our route – Pie Town. As the story goes, the small town at an elevation of 7,500 was a popular rest area in the 1800s for travelers through the region. One wise merchant began selling homemade pies that became so famous that they eventually named the town after the popular treat. It’s a shame the bartender across the road didn’t end up winning the town’s naming rights, because I’ve always dreamed of biking to Beer Town. Unfortunately, I was driving the van on the ride to Pie Town. As reported by riders, it was one of the toughest rides of the trip due to weather and elevation gain, and I wanted to be right there with them facing the challenges (honestly). It rained the majority of the day, leaving everyone wet and cold as they climbed up and over the Continental Divide. What awaited us at the top of the pass was a quirky town of 150 with two pie shops, including one that had a free slice of pie waiting for each of us thanks to a rider’s mom. I sampled several types, including apple-cranberry, coconut crème, and raspberry, but the prize-winner was the New Mexico apple-green chile-pine nut pie. Our group stayed at the “Toaster House”, a hostel for travelers that is literally covered in toasters. Somehow we managed to cram an entire loaf of bread into one toaster, with all 33 of us along with two continental divide trail bikers sleeping in the various rooms, porches, and decks.  We had a dinner of enchiladas and other Mexican dishes provided by the locals, followed by a sunset hike and a campfire sing-a-long led by the only twenty-something living in Pie Town, according to him. I didn’t question him, based on his glowing excitement to be around other young people. I think all of us would have welcomed an extra day in Pie Town, but our schedule and waistlines begged otherwise.

ARIZONA:

While I would have loved more time in New Mexico, crossing into Arizona made it feel like we are in the home stretch, even though we’ll spend a full two weeks here. The rocks have gotten redder, the air drier, and the temperatures hotter as we make our way into the state. A couple of pit stops at Fool’s Hollow and Willow Springs lakes along the way have helped us stay cool and refreshed amidst the continual rolling hills and elevation gain. Our ride into Payson marked our final one in a 6-day riding stretch without a build or rest day. A mere 52 miles, the ride included nearly 30 miles of downhill at a 6% grade. All of that climbing in the days prior finally paid off.

We had a build day in Payson today with the local Habitat affiliate, which has been incredibly eager to work with us. They not only arranged meals for us for two nights but also coordinated entertainment for us by local high school students – a singer/performer and a semi-professional yo-yo team. For the build day we broke into three groups to work at various sites. My group worked with the Brush of Kindness home repair program to work on the modular home of a woman with disabilities to paint the house, repair a wheelchair ramp, and replace damaged siding.  As always, I was amazed at how much we were able to finish in just 5-6 hours. In the days ahead we’ll hit Sedona, Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon, so it should be exciting to say the least.

PICTURES: I wasn't able to upload any pictures to this post due to slow internet connection, but you can see tons of pictures related to this leg of the trip and everything before it on my Facebook page: Katy's Bike & Build picture album

On a final note, thanks to everyone who mail-dropped me in Pie Town. We also received our affordable housing grant packet from the Bike & Build office, and in the coming weeks we’ll be doling out $45,000 in grant money. More to come on that!

Cheers,

Katy