Cross-Country Katy: 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.