there's water in them sandhills.

for the past several days i've been riding through the sandhills region of nebraska. scenic ranchland is a more accurate description, though everything is actually a sandy hill. for the first few days i had a sweet tailwind. the hills rolled by quickly and over every hill was another never ending expanse of grasslands. day after day nothing but rolling hills. i don't want to make it sound like it got boring, because it didn't, but after 1000 miles of corn it was a welcome sight.



the towns got few and far between. half of them are unincorporated and are more or less just settlements with no resources to be had. the air was dry and the sun was intense so i ripped through water much faster than i had thought i would. luckily there are plenty of windmills drawing water from the ogallala aquifer. the water is delicious and cold. if the windmill is spinning, it's drawing water... unless it has been disconnected, which i came across a few times. it's as much of a letdown as the oasis mirage in a desert.

with 150 miles to alliance the winds changed to a stiff 10-15mph out of the west. not exactly a good time but i had no choice but grind away the miles. if i had to spend an extra day or so among the sandhills i'd be just fine with it, or so i thought,

with 80 miles to alliance the forecast called for westerly winds of 25mph with gusts up to 45mph. that would stop me in my tracks, for sure. i made the decision to ride late into the night and cover the 80 miles instead of being stuck in my tarp, probably far enough from any towns that i'd get anxious from the disconnect. already having done a typical mileage for the day the idea of pedaling on for another 30 miles or so didn't really excite me. as soon as the sun dropped below the horizon the winds calmed down and it cooled off to a comfortable 60 degrees. maybe the rest of the night wouldn't be all that bad.

i decided to get a motel for the night and get out of the wind. staying in town, or on the outskirts, would have been a rough night even with the tarp buttoned to the ground and tuned like a drum. every now and again it's good to get in from the out and feel like a human being, even if just for a night. it had been 10 days since leaving my good friends in lincoln and i was a salty, dirty mess. i deserved a shower and to do some laundry. sometimes those things are one in the same. it's nice to get all of your laundry done at the same time rather than only how much can be draped off the panniers to dry while riding.

now i must head out of alliance and keep heading west into a headwind. pedal, pedal.

my heart rises in the west.

it certainly is starting to feel westy out here in nebraska. the cornfields are becoming further and further apart and are being replaced by more and more prairies. towns, too, are further apart... which is a double-edged sword, for sure. i've passed the bigger towns of eastern nebraska and have entered the center, filled with towns with signs that read "pop. 62". i've started carrying a lot more food and water because not all of those towns listed on a map have any resources a town should have. i'd hate to get caught starving and 30 miles from the next town that has a market/gas station.

camping is no problem out here. you basically find a field and call it a night. and what a night you'll have. yesterday i set up in a field with enough time to relax, take some pictures, make some dinner, and just overall enjoy myself. i was joined by some new friends... they seemed curious but didn't want to get too close, which is fine, because i was eating a can of savory pot roast soup and gently stroking my brooks saddle.


when the sun went down it got dark and quiet. all night it the only sound i heard was the occasional wind blowing the tall grass against my tarp, which is about is about as effective as light rain in lulling you to sleep. delightful.

earlier on in my tour i used a bugnet literally every single night and used the tarp only a few times out of necessity. now that the weather has changed and the bugs have all gone away i've sent my net home. i've had a few nights where i just toss out the sleeping pad and bag and have a wonderful night under the stars. i've been using the tarp every night simply as a shelter. the prairie offers no respite, even from a gentle wind.

iowa may break you.

uf... it was getting rough there for a little bit. i ran into some unforeseen affects of long-distance touring and it was grinding me to a halt. the last half of iowa was a tough stretch, to say the least. i made it to my destination of lincoln, NE. and took a week of to straighten my head out, and not a minute too soon.

when you effectively ride your bike for the equivalent of a full-time job, if not more, it becomes routine. you wake up, pack up camp, get in the saddle and ride, find a spot, set up camp, fall asleep, repeat. what had been exciting everyday becomes just what you do day in and day out, and that's not a good place to be. i'm sure plenty of distance tourists have run into this but i've never heard anyone ever talk about it. it's probably just like anything else, in retrospect you forget much of the bad and candy-coat everything. well, it's a thing, it happens, and it's not cool.

for me it was a mixture of loneliness, depression, never-ending cornfields, and straight up physical exhaustion. all of these things combined to a point where i was basically looking up bus schedules and utterly giving up. what an awful thought. things had conspired against me an almost had won.

when i rolled into lincoln i had already had a long shitty day of rain, headwinds, awful strip malls, horrible directions from google, and absolutely no motivation nor enthusiasm for being on a bike. i spent the next week hanging out with some really good people at monkey wrench cycles, eating good food, drinking excellent coffee, riding around town and just taking a break from touring. it could not have happened at a better time, or any later for that matter. those guys are far too generous and cool for their own good... plus, they have, hands down, the coolest bike shop i've ever been in, and that includes the shop i used to own. it had to be said.

i was able to regain some enthusiasm and excitement for the tour. i had come half-way across the country, up to the literal start of the west [the intersection of O street and 13th in lincoln, NE is marked with a giant compass and says it's the official start of the west], i could not stop now. i put my time in through the cornfields, i came to see prairies and mountains and that's exactly what i'm going to see, dammit.

so my tour continues. i have my apprehensions but i know, i know, that when all is said and done i'll forget much of the bad and candy-coat everything too.

carl, nate and eric, i'll miss you guys... you helped me out in a big way and you didn't even know it.

clay and cake.

iowa is a tough state. i've been grinding through it painfully slow and i feel every mile of it. it's not a difficult ride, though it has the rolling hills that ohio, indiana and illinois were lacking. they're not hard by any means, but they still slow you down. it's not for a lack of scenery. it truly does look like a grant wood painting and it turns out, he didn't exaggerate all too much. it's not for the people, they have all been very nice, so far as my interactions have gone. it's just a rough ride. i know i have many more ahead of me, but it's still a hard adjustment.

yesterday was one such tough day. after a good chunk of the previous day being spent in iowa city
and not gaining much in terms of mileage i really wanted to put some saddle time in and get somewhere. around 11am i took shelter in a barn just in time for a thunderstorm. rain on a tin roof will knock you out very quickly. after a furious nap it was time to move on... but i was very much not into it.

the past few days i have not been terribly interested in taking photos. even though i've seen plenty of great landscapes i just have not been interested in stopping and getting the camera set up. towards the evening i spotted a sweet dirt road rolling off into the distance with some great highlights from the setting sun through the clouds. i turned around and started down the road. i got about 100 feet before my bike came to a halt stuck in what amounted to clay. the photo was clearly not going to happen now. no, in stead i had to drag my bike back out to the road sideways because the wheels would not turn. the clay had filled my fenders and clogged my brakes and made a general mess out of everything. the clay was building up on my shoes as i slid about dragging my bike. after about fifteen minutes i managed to get back up to the main road and proceeded to remove the wheels to scrape out the clay. my day was now ruined.

after another twenty minutes of clay removal i reluctantly got back in the saddle and started grinding away. i was in a pretty foul mood and was enjoying nothing about my day when a guy in a pickup truck pulled up next to me and shouted, "you want a piece of cake!?" now, if this ever happens to you the correct, and only answer, to that question is, "yes".  he passed me the cake and sped off. and that was that.

i rode for another five miles, tops to the next town where there was a fairly nice looking athletic field. at the prospect of more thunderstorms that night i decided that one of the new dugouts would provide some sweet shelter. i started making dinner on one of the picnic tables while i waited for some softballers to finish up their practice by my dugout. just as the sunset, and as i was packing up my kitchen, i startled a woman that had showed up to get something from the concession stand. i apologized a few times and she said it was quite alright. after my run-in with the 5-0 in mineral, illinois i figured the possibility that she'd call the cops was likely so i decided i'd move off into the shadows of the dugout.

just as i was setting up my mattress a car pulling into the parking lot. i watched from my shadow as 4 people got out and head over to the concession stand that i had just left. "sir?" said a man. "hello, sir?" i didn't say anything because, who knows? maybe they'd tell me to gtfo and it was after dark, i didn't want to ride any more. "hello, sir? we have a care package for you"... okay, now i doubt they're here to bust my stones. i called out to him and met him on the other side of the field. apparently the woman i startled had seen me riding earlier in the day and then recognized me at the concession stand. she rallied the troops and they came back with bottled water, beef jerky, nuts and home-made cookies. wow. we talked for five minutes and they were really concerned that i had everything i needed. i assured them i was alright and i thanked them profusely for the provisions.

cake and cookies. not a bad end to a bad day.

the daily gear grind.

you know, i thought that leaving my job and hitting the road would provide me with an unlimited amount of time to do whatever i wanted. i thought that i'd have time to sit around, nap in the shade, make elaborate dinners, or just stop and smell the corn. what i didn't take in to account is  just how much riding there is to do. obviously, i knew there'd be a lot, but it really takes up most of my day and when i get to where i'm going all i want to do is eat cold soup out of a can and pass out. it's not bad though, i just thought it would be different.

it's been almost a month on the road and i don't think i've managed to shake the pace of life with a job and embrace the pace of life in the saddle. i really do have time to stop and nap, or just stare at some clouds or those fuzzy caterpillars i see frantically running across the road. there really is no reason why i can't do these things but i just have this nagging feeling that i need to be riding west at all times. i've had a few fleeting moments of clarity where i do actually stop and just do whatever it is i want to do, but it's difficult to downshift into this lifestyle. i guess it really is a grind-it-'til-you-find-it transition... i feel it happening, though, slowly.

cops and amish.

it's been hot. prohibitively hot. the kind of hot that forces you indoors and takes away your motivation to do anything other than sweat and be crabby. it's not fun by any means and i've never sweat as much as i have in the past week or so. i'm disgusting. i guess it's all part of the adventure.

frustrating is a pretty accurate way to describe ohio and indiana. finally the roads have flattened out and i can really start logging some miles except that damned heat stops me in my tracks and i'm forced to spend several hours at a walmart or mcdonalds waiting for the sun to ease up some. i can't help but feel bad because i can waste time at one of those places a few miles from home. but i'm on this bad-ass adventure and i can't do what i set out to do... ride. i know, i know, it won't last for much longer. i have quite a bit of time of what will probably be fantastic riding weather to come, and i'm looking forward to that, but it's hot now. dammit.

all negativity aside, let's talk about the positives... the grass! oh my stars the grass in the midwest is luxurious. ultra-flat lawns, fluffy grass, and apparently no rocks to catch tent pegs on. everything looks like it's been mowed within the past day, and i wouldn't doubt if it had been. i respect the midwest's lawn pride. it's a freedomcamper's dream.

last night i rolled into a town just as the sun went down and spotted a nice patch of grass behind some commercial buildings and some trees. really, around here everything looks mint. i quickly set up my yardsale and called it a night. as i laid there reading my kindle a wicked bright light swept across my campsite and a police office on a quad rolled up. he was just curious as to what i was doing, obviously. he saw the bike and we got to talking. he said he had no issues with me staying there and let me know he'd be around the area if i needed anything and then he rolled on.

a few thoughts on that... since 99% of the campsites you end up using on tour are either private property or are otherwise public and definitely not for camping, you have to be low-profile. set up in the dark. get up, pack up and be off before other people are awake. not the most comfortable schedule, but, eh, you gotta do what you gotta do. if you are discovered, like i was last night, and certainly by the authorities, be polite. be very polite. explain the situation. it's not all terribly odd, if you think about it. you're on a bike tour. you're an adult. you're not some teenager making a mess. clean up after yourself and ride on.

post script. just a moment ago as i was sitting here writing this post an amish couple came up to me and asked about my bike. we got to talking and they are very much into bikes as well. i told them of my tour and they thought it was fantastic. they then handed me two $5 bills and told me to have an exciting adventure. believe me, i tried to give the money back but they refused. now that was amazing. just amazing.

yes, yes i do want coffee.

i woke up to a brisk morning today and everything covered in dew. i had hit my snooze button a few times because i really needed the sleep and i was nowhere that someone would stumble upon me. i eventually got up, packed my things, fetched an apple i had picked the other day out of my bag, and rolled off. i set a leisurely pace still trying to wake up. also, because i had nowhere to be but just to be going west.

about a half hour after i started riding i decided to pull over and take my jacket and gloves off. i picked a random telephone pole and started opening panniers. a womon was sitting on her porch about 50 feet away called out, "want some coffee?" my first reaction was to say "no", and i actually started to, but then i stopped myself and said, "sure, that would be great." after all, i have all the time in the world. so there i was sitting on some retired school bus driver's porch drinking coffee at 6:30am. she waved at just about every car that drove by. i ate a biscuit. after 2 cups of coffee and some 45 minutes i sincerely thanked her and went on my way. now that is a good way to start the day.

freedom and arby's.

i have good days and i have bad days on the road. i have small moments of utter transcendent joy and others of self-loathing depression. i find it hard to balance the two as of yet. i still haven't found the rhythm of the road yet and set my pace of life. it will happen for sure, it may take a few weeks, though. i can be patient.

that, having been said, for partly budgetary reasons and partly because of the authenticity of the experience i'm camping 99.9% of the time. and of that it's pretty much all freedom camping. for those that aren't familiar with that term, i learned it from a friend of mine after he spent a few months touring in new zealand freedom camping the whole way. it's where you set up camp wherever it suits your needs, often in unauthorized locations. here it's more commonly referred to as "bandit camping". i'm not a big fan of that term because it perhaps implies ill-intent. freedom camping, on the other hand, implies just that, a life of freedom... and that is what i'm after.

this type of camping is not for everyone, however. it takes a certain amount of bravado to risk being caught in order to get some sleep. to be more specific, the locations you find yourself spending the night literally cover the entire spectrum. no location is verboten. but with risks come great rewards.

sometimes you find a location out of sheer necessity. for example, 2 nights ago i rolled into a town after a long, hard day of riding and i was just absolutely beat. i had just got to a grocery store and gotten some food for that night and the next day when it had just started to drizzle. the weather radar showed a lot more rain heading my way over the next several hours with a bright band of orange/red in the middle. i was too exhausted to do any more riding and further more, i had run out of time, the rain was happening now. i had spied an out-of-business arby's right down the road on my way in. it had a doorway with plenty of coverage and it was not terribly visible from the street. welp, that's the spot for tonight. not glamorous but i stayed dry. and man, did it pour that night.

other times you have the luxury of stumbling upon a location that just pops. you just know that this is it for the night, even if you have plenty of time and energy to ride further. a few nights ago i had taken a rest day and spent my time at the local library and made a very leisurely lunch in the grass out back. with plenty of daylight left i decided to go find home for the night and started on down the road. i had spied a few potential locations using google satellite views [an absolute necessity for freedom camping] and decided to check them out. i never even got to the first one. i had rolled up on a section of the delaware river that was so scenic and so abandoned. the water was crystal clear. the weather was perfect. the vibe was totally right. i knew this was it for the night. i made some coffee and some dinner. i went for a night swim. i woke up and went for a morning swim because i can. it was a magical night.

when you spend the night in a location that you get you into some trouble you have to get up extra early so as to not get pinched. that has it's own side benefits. as a photographer i want to shoot in interesting light and weather conditions and those things often happen before the sun rises. after clearing out my yard sale from arby's and after a night of heavy rain the fog was thick...  very thick. long before the sun comes up it just makes for interesting and gloomy ambiance. but near sunrise everything changes; the fog remains but the sunlight makes everything look magical. i've gotten quick with my travel rig so i had it up and shooting in no time. if my day was over right now i'd be okay because i just scored, big time.

with any camping, but especially the camping of this type, the "leave no trace" mantra is of utmost importance. you absolutely need to respect the location and take away everything with you. nobody should ever know you were there... unless they look at the GPS data of your photos... in which case, whatever, chill out.

short-sighted on a long-distance tour.

i've only been on the road for 6 days and i've become very short-sighted. i found that all i end up concerning myself with is that it's too hot for anyone's good, where can i find a spigot, is that another f*cking hill, i should find shade and nap, and where is a grocery store because i'm getting very hungry. i can think all of those either at my house or very close to it. i haven't been doing what it is that i wanted to do when i set off on my trip.

what are these things? i want to explore new spaces and just be curious about the places that i ride through. i want to photographically document a true adventure in a way that is more that just snapshots that will bore friends and family. yesterday was the first day that i stopped focusing on the short-term and started to get to the real purpose of the ride. google maps had sent me through stewarts state forest in NY and, just like the other day the route actually sent me up onto interstate 84 for some reason. at the edge of the woods i decided it was completely off and just decided to figure out my own way through the park. did i mention the approaching thunderstorm? i set off on one of the very well-marked dirt roads through the park and found that i was no longer anxiously searching for a way to get back on route but was just enjoying myself. i was thinking about nothing but how well-groomed the roads were. about how nice the park was and wished it was a lot closer to home. about how i should stop and have a snack because, why not? about... what the hell is that thing?

as i rode on the last stretch of dirt road leading out of the park i see an abandoned building tucked away in the woods. now, as an adult, i reserve the right to act like a child whenever i want and this was one such time. i couldn't not go in and explore... and besides, where did i have to be? was that thunder i just heard again?  i have no idea what the building could have been; it was completely gutted. the ceiling was in shambles, concrete and metal bits were everywhere, all the windows and doors gone and plenty of graffiti. i must have just walked around, climbed on, crawled over, and squeezed through stuff for almost an hour. this is what i intended to do. just explore. freely explore my surroundings at my pace and to whatever extent i want.

i feel like a lot more days like this are coming. the further west i go the more it seems like an adventure. whenever i travel, usually by car or sometimes by plane then car, my head is on a swivel. i am fascinated with every field, row of trees, shitty building, hill in the distance, creek, or sad-looking house. i want to know more, i want to see more. i'm slowly finding my pace and my routine. in no time at all i'll find the things that i am looking for.

one part google, one part giant grain of salt.

google failed me today. i pulled up directions to a rough estimate of my destination today and the elevation profile didn't look too bad... except for one really sharp spike in the middle. oh well, pretty much every route i looked at had a similar profile but this one was the shortest. well, we'll just have to see how that goes...

another early morning trying to log some miles before it became impossible. i lucked out and had some fog and some otherwise low-floating clouds until about 9:30 and then the sun was all business. shortly there after i got to that nasty spike in the middle of the route and it was a deusy.  there was no possible way to ride it so i had to push. i think this road would have broken the legs off of anyone on any bike let alone a loaded touring bike. dignity retained. i was pushing up 50 feet at a time stopping in what little shade there was. after about 20 minutes of pushing a guy in a cherry Studebaker rolled up on me and asked where i was headed. "up and over" i said. "no sir, this is a dead end".... fuuuuuuu**. that's not what i wanted to hear. i asked if it just turned into a dirt road or even just a trail and he said it did not and that my best bet was to head back down and around. i told him i felt like Sisyphus and he said "well, i don't know about that but if you think this is bad you haven't even hit the steepest part yet".

back down it is. it's for the best, anyway. it's a 90-degree day and the sun is relentless. i head into pawlings, NY. to the library for some air conditioning and wifi. i don't think i'll get too much farther today. i'll just scope google maps for a spot to camp. dinner tonight: soft tacos.