Donor Spotlight: Tiffany Dowdy

T-Rec and Katy the Lifeguard after 'whipped cream bubbles'

There are certain people in life who make a lasting imprint on you, regardless of how long or short your time together. Tiffany Dowdy is one of those people for me, as well as one of my top donors. We spent two summers together working on staff at Lakeshore United Methodist Assembly. She was T-Rec the Recreation Director and I was Katy the Lifeguard. Camp has this way of fast-tracking friendships and forever embalming them in time, for campers and staff members alike. It's like putting your relationships and experiences on steroids, without all of the negative side effects (except maybe the pain and nostalgia of leaving camp).

After my last summer at Lakeshore, Tiffany continued on staff as the Oxley Director, managing camps for kids who have been exposed to drug and alcohol abuse, violence, sexual abuse and more. She is now Lakeshore's Program Director, and I can't imagine a more fitting person for the job. Her impact on thousands of campers and staffers is simply immeasurable. I asked Tiffany to share a little bit about why she chose to donate, and here's what she had to say:

"When I first saw your post I knew it was going to be a great adventure. I immediately decided I wanted to help out, but once I started reading the "Why I Care" section on the Cause page, I was moved. I think affordable housing is something greatly overlooked. My early childhood was in homes I wouldn't want anyone to stay in now, but I was taken out of that environment and provided with an amazing family who had a house that was safe, warm, and not falling apart. I've seen so many kids come through our camp program who have talked about their living situations, and it's heartbreaking. Due to whatever situations, their families just cannot afford a safe house to call a home. It's hard to turn away from something when you've lived through it and have seen so many across your life be affected. I wanted to support this effort because everyone deserves a safe place to play, learn, grow, and become the person they were created to be."

My deepest gratitude to Tiffany and everyone else who has helped support this effort thus far.

Now featuring...new features!

For your convenience, I've added a few new features to my blog:

• Follow by E-mail - I'm sure you're tired of checking my blog daily to see if I've added anything (note: this applies only to my dad). Now you can subscribe to Cross-Country Katy by entering your e-mail address into the bar on the right. It only takes a second, and then you'll get an e-mail any time there is a new post. I promise you won't be bombarded with e-mails, as I only post once or twice a week.

• Instagram - You can now see an Instagram feed of my pictures hash-tagged #crosscountrykaty. This will be useful once I'm on the road and can upload photos more easily. If you have no clue what Instagram or hashtags are, then you really aren't missing out on much!

• Neat Bike Links - If you're like me and can't get enough bike blogs, cool bike pictures, or other bike porn on the Internet, then scroll down the sidebar to the "These Bike Links are Neat" section. You can click on the links to read more about some cool bike organizations and other bikey things. 

The Place Where Bicycles Go to Die

This weekend I stumbled across a strange scene. If you drive north from Missoula on Highway 93, take a left at the National Bison Range, and dare to continue on County Road 382, you might be surprised at what you find. At first the drive is quite scenic. You see gentle hills that roll into mountains topped with a sifting of snow, frosted evergreens peppering the hillsides, and wide open spaces as far as the eye can see. What you don't see much of is other cars or signs of civilization. 

Somewhere along the desolate stretch between Dixon and Hot Springs (my destination for the weekend), the scenery takes a turn for the...err...weird. On the left side of the road, starkly contrasted among miles of empty pastures, lies a decorative junkyard of old cars, wagons, farm equipment, metal artwork, wooden storefronts and - you guessed it - bikes. High wheelers, tandems, cruisers and more dot the empty field, several of which are "manned" by spooky skeletons made of animal skulls and stuffed clothes. 

One can only wonder how this place came to be. Who put this here? Where did they get all of this junk? And, most importantly, WHY?  For me, the grotesquely awesome scene conjured up thoughts of a cross-country bike trip gone horribly wrong:

Took a wrong turn in western Montana. Blew a flat. Caught in an unexpected blizzard. Came across a herd of angry cows....

You get the picture. 

I guess I'll never know the real story, but this bicycle graveyard will surely remain a stopping point in my annual Hot Springs retreat for years to come. Perhaps next year it will have disappeared completely.  

ME2SB Town Tracker

Do you live in or near one of these towns or know someone who does? If so, the Maine to Santa Barbara route will be passing through this summer and possibly even stopping for a build day or a rest day. Shoot me a message or leave a comment to let me know!

A Victor-y Ride

Is it Spring already? Because that's what it feels like in Missoula. We've had a stretch of unseasonably warm weather - highs in the 30s-40s - and a persistent high-pressure system that has my skiing friends (read: everyone) in a tizzy over the lack of fresh snow. On the bright side, this tropical heat wave means clear roads and riding conditions ideal for some unexpected mid-January outside training.

Tumblin' along the Bitterroots

So this Saturday Dylan and I drove just south of Missoula to Lolo for a ride along the Bitterroot bike path, which stretches 37 miles from Lolo to Hamilton. We took off from Lolo and rode side-by-side (one of the perks of riding on a trail) for 10 miles or so until Florence, where Dylan cut off towards a fishing access to spend a couple hours fly fishing on the Bitterroot River. It's not often that fly fishermen in Montana have any prospect of catching a fish in January, and Dylan had to jump at the opportunity to extend his fishing record to 12 months of catching a fish on a fly rod every month. And he did so by catching a nice rainbow, on a dry fly nonetheless.

While Dylan reeled in his fishing dreams, I pedaled onward to Victor, another 15 miles down the path. With the Bitterroot range on one side, the Sapphires on the other, the blue sky above and my bike beneath me, I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. Even the icy puddles dotting the path that streaked my bum with mud and slush as I plowed through them didn't slow me down. Once in Victor, I turned around and retraced my route 25 miles back to Lolo, picking up Dylan along the way. He with his fish and I with my bike,  we returned to the car with tired legs and happy hearts.

Jag Har Resfeber

...or “I have resfeber”, in Swedish. What’s resfeber, you say? Well, there isn’t really a word in the English language that quite captures the essence of it:

You see, ever since I found out about Bike & Build I’ve had this “fever” that I can’t seem to shake. Symptoms include:

- Sleeplessness
- Inability to stop talking about Bike and Build (my boyfriend loves this one)
- Loud outbursts
- Uncontrollable dance moves
- The shakes (easily calmed by a nightly Moscow Mule)

The English language was failing me to provide a word that accurately describes this restless energy that has consumed me. Thanks to the Interwebs and my dear friend Lisa, I have found resfeber.

"I got a resfeber, and the only prescription is more cowbell."

Donor Spotlight: Kevin Schouweiler

Kevin rocking his signature neon helmet. 

If you know Kevin Schouweiler, then you know that he has a heart of gold. He's one of those drop-everything-and-help-you kind of guys who can do it all. Kevin knows the lyrics to more 90s rap songs than any skinny white guy should, and he does a killer karaoke version of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch." He can probably name every flavor of Big Dipper ice cream ever invented. He knows a lot about bikes and just enough about cars to be dangerous (his own words). When the Ghostbusters need someone to call, they call Kevin. 

Kevin also happens to be my first (and highest!) donor. This is only fitting, as he is also the person who introduced me to road biking by giving (yes, GIVING) me a bike. We've ridden together through gorgeous fall days along Blue Mountain, gusty headwinds down the Bitterroot Range, and lazy spins along the Clark Fork River trail. He also volunteered his time to lead my afterschool biking program last spring, and did I mention he was my first donor? Again, heart of gold.

With his knowledge of affordable housing (he works for the Missoula Housing Authority), bike mechanics, and how to convince me to go on a ride when I really don't feel like it, Kevin is going to be a huge support as I prepare for a summer with Bike & Build. Thank you, Kevin - there aren't enough pints of ice cream in the world to repay you for your generosity and friendship.