Mission Aborted

 None of us are getting any younger and I am the last one to succumb to the old age mentality.  Since my hellish week of riding into the wind through hilly terrain my legs have not been responding well.  Upon reaching Claremont and realizing a huge mountain pass was looming, aggravated by exhausted legs and dangerous weather at higher altitudes, a decision had to be made. Never in my 16,000+ miles have I been faced with such a decision. My approach has always been “damn the the torpedoes, full speed ahead.”   There is courage and there is fool heartiness with a thin line between the two. Pushing my ego aside, I have decided to abort the trip.  I knew this trip would be my last big ride but I didn’t expect such an abrupt ending.  Now I am back in Los Angeles packing the bike and making arrangements to get home.  From this point forward, my touring will be limited to no more than ten day/five hundred miles.  After my legs recover I will be investing in a computer simulated workout machine where my bicycle is locked onto it.  No time for lolly gagging!  

Eastward thorough endless lights

        Left the lap of luxury at my brother and sister-in-law’s house for the subway which brought me to Union Station.  There I had east on flat wide roads with bike lanes, however, the traffic lights were never ending for twenty-eight mikes.   After four hours of peddling I stopped for lunch and a break.  The constant stopping and starting took its toll on my legs but I knew forty miles was the bare minimum I had to cover.  Before moving on I messaged two warmshowers hosts in the approximate area I would end up,  somewhere around Upland.  As I was riding along  on a bike path in a area devoid of vegetation, off in the distance I spotted another cyclists loaded up with panniers. Alas, my first encounter with a fellow long distance cyclist.  We stopped and chatted for a few minutes.  John was from the finger lakes in New York doing a cross country trip, route 66 included. He had sixty miles to reach Santa Monica.  He mentioned he was staying at a warmershowers just up the road.  I checked my emails and one of the two warmshowers hosts had gotten back to me. Coincidently, we were staying at the place! Had I missed thus guy I would have overshot this place by miles.  We rode fifteen minutes and arrived at our destination next to Pomona College.  Carole and Win (John Winthrop Aldrich related to New London’s founder) took us in for a very enjoyable stay, dinner with plenty of good conversation. I learned from John that at the higher elevations there would be a very good chance of me running into cold weather and snow, not what I wanted to hear.  That was less than encouraging news; first the unrelenting wind now the cold and snow.  There is a mount pass ahead but at least the stop and go riding will taper off.

On the road again

   Today was spent taking the subway/train out to Santa Monica and bicycling back to central Los Angeles.  A long train ride with many stops, upon arrival I rode my bike down to the waterfront, took a few photographs, turned around and head for LA. A flat road with over three quarters of it bike paths, no wind, low traffic and a very pleasant ride. With the bike stripped down of its panniers my speed was a good two mph faster.  Once I arrived downtown I took the subway back to South Arden Boulevard where my Brother and sister-in-laws house is located. Tomorrow I can head east from downtown without having to start in Santa Monica. After lunch where I checked out my route for tomorrow I chilled out for a few hours before I went out to dinner with Ted, my other LA brother, and his wife Constance.  Now for some sleep.

Arrived in Los Angeles

    ThirtyFour hours from Kansas City to Los Angeles, you what you have to do. Loaded up with food for the trip I was able to stay clear of the snack cafe except for a vegatable-humus item and two IPAs.  The lounge area on the second deck with the overhead windows was kind of cool, being able to hang out in a spacious area.  Sleeping conditions were marginal but I managed. Upon arrival at 8;00 I navigated to the purple metro subway line within Union station. After six stops I arrived at Wilshire-Western where I had to use the escalator twice because the elevators were busted.  I damn near lost hold of my fully loaded bike as I struggle to enter the escalator and stabilize it as I ascended, a very scary experience. How in hell do the handicapped make it up to street level!? Once on the street I rolled up my pants, and put on my riding shoes. I figured put what direction to head and used the side walk due to the lack of a bike lane or shoulder and a steady flow of traffic.   Once on a side streets the road was near deserted and I arrived at my brother Jack’s house.  Shower, shave, breakfast, laundry, food shopping and a nap brought me down for a soft landing.  Tomorrow I take the tube to Santa Monica where I will ride route 66 back into Los Angeles. The real journey begins on the 21st.

In transition

   Hopefully switching from plan A to plan B will be like making lemonade out of lemons.  Getting myself to Springfield, a fortuitous ride to Kansas City and lucking out at the last moment with a warmershowers host is just the beginning of my transition over to plan B.  Tomorrow night I board a train for a thirty-four hour ride to Los Angeles, couch fair, no berth.  So I have my inflatable mattress and maybe the conductor will let me stretch out in the handicap section for the late night hours. Perhaps a bribe might convince him if he says no way?

Back to today.  Greg and Cindy drove me right to the door of Richie my new warmershowers host.  He was getting home late in the afternoon so I stashed my bike and gear behind his house and hiked over to the fabulous World War One museum.  A monument rivaling the Washington Monument and a museum with everything related to the war except a tank.  After seeing a displayed bugle almost identical to the one I inherited from cousin, I realized  it probably belonged to my grandfather who was a flight instructor during WWI.  Three hours later my mind was weary from information overload. I walk back the house and watched Kansas City play Buffalo. Finally Richie arrived home and I paid for takeout.  Other than having circumnavigated the USA  7,200 miles, he is a talented Jazz musician. The band members drifted in and  worked on recording each players part and electronically mixing them together.  Good tunes, fun listening and interesting guys. Now for perhaps my last night of decent sleep for the few days.

A day off

 Warmshowers hosts two nights in a row, what luxury.  I bicycled this morning a few miles between the two of them. First Dale with his amazing peddle assist bike and  our dinner out on the town and then Greg and Cindy. Greg took me to the bike shop so I could get a new tire and tubes followed by a trip to the grocery store for food for my thirty-four hour train ride.  Before leaving for his volunteer job he gave me the layout of his house, showed me where the beer was and gave me refrigerator rights. He made me feel totally at home.  I had the whole house to myself along with Rosco their 12 year Labrador. Cindy was gone all day but with Greg being around for an hour in the morning, we hit it off instantly, talked about everything, like we had known each other for years.  That night Cindy cooked up a first class dinner after which we searched online for a warmshowers host for tomorrow night. No responses yet so we are looking into inexpensive hotels near Union Station.  There is a local NFL game tomorrow which we suspect is the reason no one is responding. Finally with my train leaving late evening of the 17th, Greg and Cindy are giving me a ride up to Kansas City.  They are visiting their daughter so I really lucked out.  Great hospitality and a thankful ride up to Kansas City,  great people they are. I had a good day of relaxation.  

Flat road, same wind

 A bit chilly when I woke up in my tent this morning, forty-two degrees.  Amazingly with my outer tent flap and mosquito netting zipped closed my body heat keeps the interior of the tent reasonably warm.  After packing up I headed out to a nearby local restaurant in Marshfield.  No sooner had I sat down sipping coffee than the power went out and we were all told leave.  There was a smoldering fire up in the ceiling of the kitchen.  I vacated, chatted with a few locals and was directed to another mom and pop restaurant around the corner.  As I made the switch horns began to blare as the fire trucks drove into town. At the second place somehow I asked if by chance I was approaching the Ozarks.  “Oh yes, Marshfield is the highest part of the plateau.” Apparently, I had been climbing the Ozarks for two day and didn’t have a clue.  “But the road flattens out down the road”. Sure enough about five miles south the road flattened out.  No such luck with the wind.  It howled head on until I found sanctuary in the Springfield neighborhoods.  Ever since I left Joliet the wind has tortured me and apparently it only gets worse in Oklahoma.  Thank god I am heading out to Los Angeles Monday night.  Until then I will be staying with two warmshowers hosts in Springfield. The first host I took out to dinner.  He was an IT guy turned massage therapist.  He commutes to work on a bike he converted into a power assist with every imaginable high power light front and rear with an air horn which will get your attention. Seeing him ride down the road is like ‘Close  encounters of the third kind.’  I have met so many interesting people through Warmshowers.  Bikers helping bikers world wide, a fantastic organization.

Plan B

  A cold front rolled in along with a stiff breeze which had me delay my departure.  I spent the time patching my punctured inner tubes and removing a tiny truck tire wire which pierced my tire and caused the punctured of three inner tubes.  I found the tube leaks by inflating the tubes and submerging sections of the each in the sink full of water.  The holes were tiny and had to be marked with my pen so I wouldn’t lose them when I apply the patches. Close to 9:30  I left Lebanon dresser for a cold ride.  The wind was unrelenting all day with gusts upwards to thirty mph with a steady breeze of twenty.  My legs and arms were weary to begin with so I did what I could to conserve what energy I had.  If a hill was long and steep I would dismount and walk.  At least two dozen times I walked pushing the bike.  The gps thought  its side unpaved roads were better bike routes but when checking the map I realized the route was adding several miles onto the direct route.  The average cyclist is usually intimidated by the traffic when the shoulder is non existent. But, in Missouri the drivers give the cyclists plenty of room, usually a lanes width.  Also my glasses mounted rearview mirror gets constant use.  With thousands of miles under my belt I am a seasoned rider but am very careful nevertheless.  Anyways, I pushed ahead and several timed was broadside by the wind enough to jar me or blasted head on like I had jammed on the breaks.  Miles after mile for thirty-five miles I pushed ahead. I drifted into Marshfield  a shell of my former self and navigated to North Park where bikers are allowed to camp. Not a soul was around probably because of the chilly wind.  I set my tent up in a low profile spot beneath a Sycamore tree, next to small creek and behind a few cement picnic tables.  The plot had to be clear of any branches that might fall due to the wind. 

 NOW after days of battling the wind I have opted for plan B by booking a train from Springfield to Los Angeles departing after 22:00 the 17th.  A long 1500 miles to Los Angeles but my bicycle ride east should  be a cake walk compared to what I have endured over the past ten days. You do what you have to do.

PerseveranceI I continued towards Lebanon. I continue my

    Wonderful warmershowers hosts, gave me refrigerator rights allowing me to make a killer sandwich avec brownies for lunch.  Joselyn drove me to Walmart so I could buy a new headset for listening to music while cycling.  With showers predicted, as predicted a deluge of rain commenced just as I was about to leave.  With lightning accompanying the rain I settled in for well over an hour waiting for the storm to pass.  It gave me a chance to touch base with Betsy and my sister Ellen.  Starting just after 10:00 put me a bit behind schedule.  Thirty-five mikes to Lebanon would be a challenge given the hills and headwinds.  My legs were aching from days of constant climbing so I decided not overdue it climbing the hills. Throughout the day I dismount at least half a dozen times and push the bike up the hill, 2.4 mph but I conserved energy and kept moving forward.  Shortly after three miles on a dirt road I had my first flat tire, sn oh s**t moment.  Usually the flat is on the rear tire, not this time.  Unloaded all the bags, pull out the tire irons and new tube, removed the wheel from the front forks, carefully insert a new tube, re-inflate the tire, refasten the wheel to the forks, load on all the gear and started rolling again. The job took somewhere between thirty and forty-five minutes.  Several miles down the road another flat, “ don’t do this to me.” I had the this situation before while riding the C&O canal route in 2015.  Probably a truck tire wire had imbedded itself in the tire protruding in the inside of the tire and very difficult to find.  I carefully searched but no luck.  I carry a spare tire and decided to swap out the tire and another tube.  I preformed this repair down a deserted road where an old steel frame bridge was blocked off, a remanent of route 66. After quickly eating the sandwich I assembled this morning, I continue onward.  Fifteen miles and my legs were really feeling beat.  Aggravating the situation the wind ramped up to at least ten mph.  Even when riding down hill I had to pedal to keep from slowing down. I hunkered down and kept moving no matter how slow.  Stubbornly the miles clicked away. The road even flattened out somewhat much to my delight.  Praise the Almighty I rolled into Lebanon around 4:45. Searching for a motel I found a genuine throwback to the fifties and sixties, The Munger Moss Motel; pink toilet and sink, green tile, old TV box and retro room decoration.  A woman in her mid eighties has owned and maintained it for eons.  She is recovering from an aneurism but apparently will be back at it in a few weeks.  Inexpensive but the motel has tons of charm. After finding dinner I watched a MLB playoff game between the Braves and Phillies on the old box TV. Tomorrow I will take it as it comes and conserve as much energy as possible. My legs need the break.

Bring back the paper maps

  Getting out of Rolla using my GPS ran me in circles and took me at least five miles out of my way (that is like thirty miles out of your way in a car).  Gps programs just haven’t got it figured it out for bicycles. We need to remember that these devices are only machine, yet we are so trusting of them.  Why I didn’t cross check it with my map is simply a laps in good judgement.  Finally, after much frustration, I found my way south out of town.  The route 66 roads were mixed in with other roads. My map, compass and gps had me weaving south through some beautiful countryside which has been the exception during this journey.  The hills still plagued me and later in the afternoon my nemesis the headwind picked up.  The good news is that I found a warmshowers host in St Robert.  They rolled out the carpet, whatever I needed.  Great shower, food, laundry, tv (watched the Yankees and Cleveland in game one) and enjoyed talking with the kids as well as mom and dad.  Everyone had to leave for the evening for a few hours so there I was in their house alone.  In the midwest people are friendlier and much more trusting than the east and west coast people.  Tomorrow, I will shoot for Lebanon and beyond but rain is in the forecast, not fun.

Terror of the headwinds

     Not real impressed with campsite, poorly maintained but at least I had the choice of sites and privacy.  A little past 9:00 I headed for Cuba where I loaded up on food at a local Save Slot and had breakfast sitting on a bench just outside the front door. The curious looks and and questions are funny. No, my bike is not pedal assist. Oh my, California? God bless you.  My reply: Somebody has to do it. Or, it is kind of a sickness. Ok, so I got back on the road.  Five miles down the road, a headwind started followed by the hills. As well, to deaden the roar of trucks on Interstate 44 fifty feet away I stuffed my ears with tissue.  There has been very little magical about route 66.  The wind and hills reduced my speed from  9-10 mph to 7-8 mph.  A ride of twenty-seven miles to Rolla should not have been a big deal but it felt like I was dragging an anchor. I was beat by the time I found a hotel to rest my weary body.  In a weeks time this is my second headwind day. My strategy is to make it from one town (with accommodations of some sort) to the next. Tomorrow, I will cover thirty miles to St. Robert or Waynesville a few miles more. The topographic map beneath road map looks very hilly, not good.  I will take it slow and steady but definitely call it a day at St. Robert.  Joplin is a ways off but regardless of the hills and wind I need to make it to that point before making any decide if I should or not take a train to Los Angeles and go east with the wind at my back. Joplin is parallel to northern South Carolina so the weather will not be a factor.

32 degrees, hills galore and a DQ

   Woke up this morning to 32 degrees, the blankets kept me from having to pile on clothes to stay warm. I had a 29 degree once doing exactly that. The mosquito netting keeps the heat in, strange but true. At 9:01 I pulled out Pin Oak Creek campsite headed for Cuba. Hills and valleys must of the way, go like hell down the hill and try to make it up the next without having to shift into my granny chainring gear. I walked two hills rather than try to be iron man and needlessly waste energy.  Route 66 parallels interstate 40 to the point of being only forty feet away from semi trucks, RVs, SUVs and sedans cramming the highway, on Sunday no less.  GPS steered me onto a few hard packed dirt roads which were picturesque but difficult to gain any speed combined with clouds of dust from passing cars. I did meet one interest farmer whose first generation Italian father purchased a beautiful secluded farm in 1942. As I was riding away he shout that he would make me an Italian dinner on my return trip. Three hours along I stopped at a gas/convenience store and went door for a Dairy Queen Blizzard. I love the place. After over forty miles of up snd down I arrived at Meramec Valley campground. Pretty much deserted, I set up can where I wanted.  The camp store was closed and I didn’t have much road food to suffice for dinner.  Dialing around I lucked out with Pizza Hut, they delivered.  Being out in the country most of the time it is hard to find a place to stay without wearing my to down to exhausting trying reach a town having accommodations.  Tomorrow may be only a bit over thirty miles to Rolla where there will be places to bunk up.

Back in the groove

      Today I rode from St. Louis to Villa Ridge, Missouri, forty-nine miles. Hilly south of SL but the days rest seemed to get me back into the groove.  One crazy windy road with blind corners and fast drivers tested my avoidance skills. Two hills I walked but all and all the ride was a good one.  At a convenience store I met a fellow woodworker who showed me pictures of his pieces, a good conversation during my lunch break.  He pointedly warned me about the crazy road which I didn’t take seriously until I was in the midst of it.  Anyways, the miles clicked by hoping that the campsite on the map was operational. I rounded a bend with .2 miles on my gps and there she was, Pin Oak Creek RV Camping.  With several boarded up motels and a campsite phone number which failed multiple times I was a concerned that I might be in a pinch to find a place for the night. Part of the adventure is finding a place whether it be a campsite, Warmshowers.org, a hostel, cheap motel, fire department, church or a night stealth camping,  I never know exactly how far I will travel and so the accommodations part of the equation can get a bit dicey.  Anyways, the campsite is well equipped and I am hunkered down for a chilly night. One of the staff, concerned about my well being, brought by two blankets.  That is a first.

Odel to Saint Louis by train

    A day of rest  on the train from Pontiac to St. Louis gave my body time to recover. Yet, hauling my bike on and off the train with no platform was a bit strenuous but worth it given the four days of riding it would save me. 210 miles already covered in 2015 was a welcome reprieve.  Before Craig Rebholz drove me down to the Pontiac train station this morning I contacted warmershowers host searching for a place to stay.  Three out of four responded, I chose Chris Salinas because of his close proximity to the station.  Six tenths of a mile through empty streets due to the Cardinals and the Phillies first playoff game in Busch Stadium. In fact, Chris and his wife Lydia were at the game.  I arrived at a gorgeous 1885 mansard roofed, three story brick house.  A pad and a half.  Chris gave me instructions as to where to store my bike, how to get into the house and where the beer was.  Fourteen foot ceiling and two twenty-one step set of stairs even had me breathing. Great lay out, a very cool pad.  Chris and Lydia arrived home where upon I offered my condolences over the Cardinals losing the first game.  That aside, the cheese and beer came out.  Lydia headed out to be with the girls while Chris and I went around the corner for dinner.  During our walk to and from I saw that the entire neighborhood is full of these fabulous houses and yet fifteen years earlier the area was seriously blighted.  I can’t imagine their heating A/C bills are but they did a beautiful job restoring the place. Like me and my house many hours of toil were expended coming up with the finished product.  As for tomorrow’s ride I will try to limited myself to around forty miles to allow my body more time to adjust to the trip.  Being rather cool I will wait until 9:00 before pedaling off.  It looks like I will be camping tomorrow night.

A rough day into the wind

What is twenty-seven miles down to Pontiac to catch the train to St. Louis?  Seeing as I have bicycled from St. Louis to Odel seven years ago I never like riding the same road twice.  Starting off was fine for the first several miles, then the wind picked up hitting me head on.  Aggravating the situation it was up a slight incline the whole way. My speed slowed from ten mph to seven.  Was I bonking, I had a good breakfast and drank plenty of electrolites.  My body was rebelling and after seventeen miles I crept into Odel total exhausted.  Forty-seven miles the first day and sixty miles the second took its toll.  I should have started off at a much slower pace. After stopping at the Odel route 66 information center I headed  over to the local bank where Jim Robholz was manager.  Seven years early when riding across the country he took me in for night and he and his wife Connie treated me like royalty.  I parked my bike and went into the bank to say hi.  It was great to see Jim and recall the good time I had with his family. Asking him if I could get my bike on the train st Pontiac we both searched online and was able to make a reservation for tomorrow at 11:07. Asking where I could stay in Pontiac Jim immediately offer to put me up. Grateful was was understatement.  My exhausted body needed the break.  After we had lunch together, he took me over to his house and familiarized me with everything and returned to the bank. A hot shower, laundry and a nap brought me back to life. Connie arrived home and remembered me right away.  It was old home week.  Shortly after she arrived home we were off to their son’s house to hook up this huge RV to his GMC truck.  I helped where I could.  We drove over to Fairbury where there is a dirt race track where modified late model cars race. This weekend is the last  race of the season, the Fals Frenzy ( Fairbury American Legion speedway).  There son backed the RV into the assigned spot next Connie’s Brother’s and sister’s RVs, a family affair.  The races start tomorrow and they wanted to get set up before the mobs of humanity showed up. I was envious of the good time they had planned. After setting up we headed out for pizza as the skies opened up, lightning and all. Another good time.  Tomorrow, Craig, Jim and Connie’s son, is driving me to the train station in Pontiac.  I will arrive in St Louis at 2:50.  I pray that the winds I fought against today will not be the case down the road.To sum up I hope I can return the hospitality to the Rebholz when they come east to my place.

Heading south

 Day two, sixty miles from Chicago Heights through Joliet down to Gardner on rte 66. Over forty miles on the old plank road rails to trails, no cars but a bit confining without much change in the scenery.  Once on route 66, the traffic was light but with no shoulder most of the time my eyes were checking with glasses mounted mirror to see what was coming up behind me. The cars all gave me ample room but were still hauling along. Much has changed since my cross country trip in 2015.  People now understand that bicycles have as much right to the rode as cars and trucks. Particularly, when the big semi tractor trailers slow down to creep before passing me when there is ample room I wave my thanks. Two rest breaks, one in Joliet and the second in Wilmington kept me energized through the day. Thankfully the terrain was flat but a headwind slowed me up when on the open road. Being my second day on the road my body is still adjusting…arms, legs and derriere. My goal/destination for today was Gardner thinking there might be a campsite or motel but the town is small and had no accommodations of any sort. I tried one fire department to no avail and there were no churches around to seek sanctuary. Growing a bit concerned I stopped at a gift shop with popular rock being piped outside.  The store owner said Dwight ten miles down the rode had accommodations but at 4:30 and sixty miles on the odometer the store owner took mercy on me and called her husband to check to see if I could pitch my tent in their back yard.  Given the green light and directions to their house I was eternally grateful.  Along with the lawn I was given use of their bathroom to shower up.  The force was with me!  Fifty feet away was a country restaurant where I chilled over a delicious dinner. As before the local folk all know each other and the cost of dining is considerably lower.  Tomorrow, my goal is Pontiac.  In 2015 I covered 210 miles from St. Louis to Odel. From Pontiac I will catch a train to St. Louis.  Now for some much needed sleep.

Day one

     After double checking the bike, I loaded up the bike with four panniers, rear top bag, bar bag and the under seat tool bag; 45-50 lbs added to the weight of the bike adds up to about eighty-five lbs.  Envision driving a semi tractor trailer, twenty-seven gears shifting up and depending on the terrain. Even with plenty of experience it takes a few miles to get in the groove.  A mile down to the Metra commuter train station followed by an express ride to downtown Chicago put me a few blocks from my starting point at Millennium park bordering lake Michigan. Beautiful ride along the lake coast, a number of wrong turns but eventual I made my way out of Chicago.  South Chicago is one place not to be with the lights out with one of the highest murder rates in the country. A combination of rails to trails and secondary roads brought me to twenty-five miles east of Joliet.  In the process my map and velcro map holder fell off without me noticing it.  Gps has been cooperating so I should be ok until I intersect with route 66 tomorrow.  Forty-seven miles today was a stretch for my first day but the body will adapt within the next three days.  A shaky motel was the only choice in the area so I will suck it up and sleep on the bed spread with my sleeping bag….part of the adventure.

On the road….sort of

   All my gear and I made it to Providence  T.F. Green airport thanks to Betsy.  Checked in my mountain of gear, made it through security including my gear being throughly searched, happens every time.  The flight was overbooked and I was one of the last to board which relegated me to a middle seat with a gorilla on either side. I swear the seats are getting smaller and passengers are getting bigger.  Southwest should forego the seats and just provide slots to slide into.  An hour and a half in the air felt like a transatlantic flight.  Kate Wick picked me up and the next day the bike was assemble and my gear loaded on.  At 8:00 I shoved off only to make it to the end of the block before realizing that my front tire had problems.  The tire by the stem was extended beyond the rim. Now what? No luck in deflating the tire and pushing the tire into place.  Fast forward, the bike shop seated the tire on less than a minute but at 11:15 I had to scrap the ride and shoot for tomorrow.  Just getting the train into downtown Chicago would take an hour and them weaving my way out of town would take several hours.  Having to ride through Southwest Chicago is a shaky proposition. Anyways, tomorrow I try again.