Empty and Fill

Taylor Magazine

2009-08-08T22:11:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the article in the newest issue of Taylor Magazine, Synergy, page 45.

Home- family love

2009-08-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

8/2

My mom and dad arrived in Dubuque, IA around 2:00am. I pushed my cart out onto the dim lit parking lot and watched them pull around and park next to my little yellow cruiser. My insides were hosting a heated fight between gladness and shame as I approached their car.

My parents got out with big smiles and wrapped me up with hugs. Gladness won. The "situation" meant nothing; they were excited to be with me and I with them. They didn't even seem to mind the 8 hour drive from Upland and were giggling about some comedian they had listened to on the way up. My mom gave me a hard time saying that if I could have planned this little mishap a bit earlier she could have spent some time shopping in Galena, IL

We loaded the bike into the trailer they had borrowed, and as if it were planned, we rode the final 450 miles home together. The final reading on my motorcycle's trip odometer was 12768 miles, but I think the real reading includes that final leg that we rode together.

Thus, after 71 days and around 200 empty and fills, Alex and I had traveled a total of 13,218 miles through 34 states and Canada. We have seen much, met many, and learned a lot. We are grateful to have had the opportunity to take this trip and are very thankful to all those who supported and encouraged us both on the road and from home. We truly could not have done it without you!

Here is a picture of my gas receipts from the trip.

Dubuque- I've died and gone to Walmart

2009-08-01T23:23:00.000-07:00

8/1

After a fine breakfast at the local Spirit Lake diner, I set out for Chicago to visit a few friends as my last stop before heading home. I decided to take smaller highways east through the remaining portion of Iowa. The drive reminded me of Indiana as the landscape flattened and corn rose up on either side of the road. I was enjoying the pleasant sunny day and dreaming about home when a terrible "pop" sounded from beneath and behind me. The sudden outburst was immediately followed by a repeated loud knocking coming from the same direction.

I knew immediately what had happened and quickly but steadily guided the bike to the right shoulder. I got off and looked down at my rear wheel. The chain had broke as I had thought. I had not, however, expected the battering it had done to the rear fender. Instead of unraveling from the sprockets after breaking, the chain became wrapped around the spacer between the sprocket and the hub of the rear wheel. This left a portion of the chain free to whip around and cause a tremendous amount of damage.

I hoped that the damage was merely cosmetic because I had a spare chain and sprockets packed on the bike. I was in a bit of shock and stood back to take a deep breath and assess the situation. I was unhurt and the bike was still upright. The road was busy, but the bike and I were safely on the gravel shoulder. I checked my phone. The service was limited, but I had two bars. I walked west to pick up the splintered pieces of yellow and chrome from the road and to determine my exact location. I was about 35 miles west of Dubuque, IA on Highway 20 near 285th Ave.

I returned to my bike and gave it a closer examination. I had to pull the rear fender away from the wheel. The chain had smashed it to bits even tearing through the supporting metal frame. The damage exceeded the cosmetic, though. The support between the swing arm was smashed and the chain had also torn trough a good deal of the electrical. The damage was beyond what I could fix on the side of the road with the tools and parts that I had.

I phoned my parents, explained the situation, and told them I would give them a call when I had a plan. After calls to AMA Roadside Assistance (thanks Dr. Esclamado :) ), the insurance company, and many friends in the Chicago area, I was picked up by a big, orange flatbed truck and dropped off in the parking lot of a Walmart in Dubuque where I was to wait for my parents who were now on their way up with a trailer. Prodigal son... parents get the call... meet the son on the road... hmm.

The tow truck pulled away and I sat down in a heap on the curb with my bags piled around me. This was not in my master plan. I loaded my belongings haphazardly into a stray cart and walked solemnly through the electric, sliding glass doors announcing my arrival in America's heaven.

Saint Peter sat watch holding the keys, a blue sticker gun. She took one look at my dishevelled self, thought I was a homeless wanderer, and kindly explained that I couldn't be in the store. I gave her this empty stare for a few moments and then relented explaining my situation. She pointed to a separate room outside of the kingdom's walls, a Purgatory, which, by the way, conveniently sells subs and is decorated with posters of the savior, Jared.

There I sat reading my bible waiting for redemption.

Spirit Lake- through Stugis, the Badlands, and Wall Drug

2009-08-01T21:56:00.000-07:00

7/30

I woke up early to begin my ride through South Dakota. Prior to this summer my furthest journeys west were a pair of trips to the Colorado ski country with buddies from college. We would leave late, all pile into a car, and head west on I-70 through Kansas. Flat and still, we would barrel through its moonlit fields emitting waves and disturbing all tranquility. Kansas is the fast before the feast and we scorned its very existence.

I expected South Dakota to simply be an extension of Kansas. I was pleasantly surprised, however, as I rode through rolling hills and steep flat-topped buttes. It wasn't long into my route east that I came across the Sturgis Rally which was just starting up. As I passed through and rode on, it was clear I was the anomaly. Everything on two wheels was in the other lane headed to Sturgis.

While I chose to forgo a stop at Mt. Rushmore, I did take the time to drive through the Badlands. The scenery is a bit difficult to appreciate returning from the west, but I did enjoy the drive. The highlight of the day, however, came in Wall, SD, where, after probably 40 miles of advertising billboards, I stopped at the very famous Wall Drug for a fresh doughnut, 5 cent coffee, and the world renowned free ice water. I found this picture of a Typical Wall Drug billboard online. Looks like they start advertising in the South Pole.

From there, I pushed on riding east to Spirit Lake Iowa. My friend, Keith, who will be traveling with me to Ecuador at the end of August was vacationing with his family at their family cottage on the lake. I arrived with the trip odometer reading 12479 miles and was graciously invited in as family and enjoyed a few days on the boat and jet ski.

Spearfish- camping alone

2009-07-31T09:23:00.000-07:00

7/29

From Wyoming I had quite a bit of land between me and home with not a lot of intent to stop and see much. I left the Grand Tetons at around 7:00am and started riding east. After battling through miles of road construction, I ran into some nasty cold, wet, and windy weather just east of the Bighorn mountains. Realizing that I needed to take a break to unthaw, I pulled off the road to refuel. My fingers were so cold I couldn't feel the turn signal switch with my thumb to indicate my turn.

I managed to fill up and then went inside to warm up. It was still early morning, and I wasn't very hungry, but I ordered a bowl of chili and a cup of hot chocolate from the food counter inside. It didn't matter that chili wasn't much of a breakfast food or that hot chocolate was far from a good complement. They were both producing steam, and I sat down at a booth and hovered over them as if I was warming myself around a campfire.

The chili was bad and didn't mix well with the chocolate, but I left the gas station warmer than when I entered. I even managed to put my pen to a few postcards.

The weather became worse as I made the pass through the Bighorns, but I emerged on the eastern slopes to sunny skies and warm air. Mountains have an amazing effect on weather. I dropped my postcards off at the post office in Buffalo and kept on trucking. I crossed the border into South Dakota as the sun was getting low in my mirrors. I needed to find a place to camp and soon. I picked up a South Dakota highway map at a rest stop and set my sights on the nearest state campground. The little park just north of Spearfish, SD wasn't ideal as I had hoped to make it to the Badlands for the night, but after a summer of experience, I knew the importance of setting up camp before dark, and I still needed to buy food.

I stopped at the local grocery and bought soup and bagels. By the time I exited the store a steady rain had begun. I grabbed my rain gear from the bag which was strapped to my bike and went under the store's awning to put it on. By the time I mounted the bike and ignited the engine to life the rain had turned to a down pour and I became discouraged. Cold, wet, hungry, and alone I envied the four teenagers who scurried through the parking lot giggling as they jumped in their parent's car to drive home and watch a movie. I wanted to ask them if I could join.

Perseverance, the trained and determined motivator, kicked in, and I pressed on according to the plan. Fortunately, the rain passed, and I arrived at an empty and very eerie Belle Fourche Reservoir with the trip odometer reading 11994 miles. I set up camp quickly and quietly as not to wake any sleeping giants. The setting was very quiet and still. I was the only person in the park and there were no fisherman on the lake. The sunset lit up the post-storm sky and provided probably the most brilliant display of the summer. It felt like my lone companion, and after my bowl of soup had been wiped clean with the bagel, I tucked myself away in the tent under its watchful care.

Grand Tetons- "whoa bear"

2009-07-30T09:22:00.000-07:00

7/27

In the morning we headed back into Jellystone, but after a few disappointing hours at Mammoth Springs and Old Faithful, I was ready to get away from the hoards of people and back into the mountains. It was a challenge to find a spot where you could view Old Faithful without feeling like you were waiting for the Chicago Bears to rush onto the field. They have stadium seating and lodges built on three sides.

We were several miles down the road toward the Grand Tetons when I received a call from my friend Brad. He was with a group from Taylor and Wheaton that had been doing field study in the Black Hills and were now touring through Yellowstone. He and the group were at Old Faithful, and so I turned around at the opportunity to see him and to relive the great spectacle one more time.

It was faithful.

My fellow travelers had gone ahead to secure a camping spot for the night in the Tetons. They left me a message as to their location, and I arrived at the turnout after dark with the trip odometer reading 11457 miles. I pulled onto the gravel road and noticed a sign on my right that read, "No fires or camping without permit." Hoping my friends had gathered the appropriate permits I continued on down the road. I pulled in next to their parked cars and followed the distant flickering light to a small fire surrounded by two tents and my friends who were warming themselves and dishing out hot, freshly prepared vegetable soup. I hardly mentioned the sign at the bottom of the hill prohibiting all of the actions we were participating in. They shrugged it off and said that there were others just down the road in a camper. After a long day, and with the setting wonderfully prepared: warm food, warm fire, friends, and tents, I didn't object.

We sat around the fire eating soup and going through every conceivable bear situation. I tried my best to recall the various deterrent techniques outlined in the video I was required to watch before heading into the backcountry in Glacier NP. We had fun clapping and exclaiming "whoa bear" with various accents and inflections. I hope the bears sitting watch in the shadows were as amused as we were. The girls seemed to think that the bottle of parking lot pepper spray and the can of aerosol hairspray would provide ample defense against a full grown male grizzly. I begged to differ.

In the morning I woke early and was happy (or maybe slightly disappointed) to see that no grizzly had torn the door off of the car that had 30 lbs of cherries in the back seat. I made a few phone calls looking for a shop that could replace my worn rear tire. With no luck, I was beginning to get discouraged when I noticed a white truck pull up slowly next to our vehicles. When I saw the green emblem on the door, I knew our fate. It was a park ranger. Emily had woken up just in time to be asked by the ranger for her ID. I provided mine as well and went to wake up the others.

The fine was $125 and would be split among the five of us. This was gracious considering we each deserved a full fine.

We solemnly packed up and headed south to the Jenny Lake visitor's center to make plans for hiking and legal camping for the night. There, we acquired backcountry permits for Surprise Lake. The others went ahead while I went over to the lodge to further my search for a new rear tire. More dead ends. The Sturgis rally was sucking up all of the resources from Wyoming to Wisconsin.

I started the five mile hike up to Surprise Lake around 4:30pm and hauled up to meet the others. The site was awesome, and I had to congratulate them on their fine discovery. After a cool dip in the lake, we cooked up some lentils. Warm, garlic, goodness.

Unfortunately, our bear deterrent techniques worked a little too well, or the girls prayed too hard because although there had been many recent sightings of bears in the area, we saw none.

In fact, I just talked to my friend Brad who made the same hike one day after us. He encountered a bear and her cub on the trail. Unbelievable!

Yellowstone- "Eh Boo-Boo?"

2009-07-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

7/26

I woke up to Alex shaking my shoulder. To be honest, I had been awake for a while, watching him pack up through the slits in my eyelids, savoring the last moments on the comfy couch and hoping he would give up and decide to ride into Yellowstone with me.

"Kyle, I'm leaving."

I acted surprised and followed him into the kitchen and out the door helping him carry a few of his items to be strapped onto the bike. We hugged and smiled.

"It's been a good trip, man. Tell Alyse I said hi. Ride safe. I'll see you in Chicago."

"I look forward to it. Call me if you need anything."

And with that, I watched Alex complete one last karate-kick-my-legs-are-too-short motorcycle mount and ride off down the alleyway behind the house. Goodbye wasn't too hard, and I knew I would see him again in Chicago. He was doing the right thing and I admired him for it.

I went back in the house and munched on a bowl of cereal while I sat examining a map trying to determine my route into Yellowstone. It didn't take long for me to pack up (I've had a few days of practice) and soon I was riding out the same alley Alex had exited on about an hour before.

I stopped at a gas station to fill-up and tried to call my friends about a meeting place and time in the park. No luck. A pair of Harley riders down from Canada occupied the pump next to mine. They came over to ask about my travels. They were nice and after chatting about routes and roads they returned to their hogs where I overheard them discussing the days ride. I wanted to turn to Alex and ask him his opinion for the day's route. A brief moment of fear was overcome by feelings of excitement at being alone in a strange place free to explore, free to make wrong turns, and free to embellish my stories. I was the lone perpetrator of all the day had to offer.

Back on the road I exercised my freedom and made a last second decision to turn east heading toward the Beartooth mountains. This would allow me to ride highway 212 from Red Lodge to Cooke City over the Beartooth pass. From there, I could enter the park at the northeast entrance and hopefully by that time receive word from my friends on where to meet.

The ride was both beautiful and challenging, and I was careful how I navigated the tight, mountain turns with a worn back tire. The road led me past some spectacular mountain viewpoints and eventually to the treeless tundra surrounding the summit. Road construction slowed my decent and I arrived in Cooke City staring at some potential rain.

I entered the park with rain gear on and soon encountered all three of the things that caused me to dislike my time in Yellowstone: rain, road construction, and miles of tourist traffic. The ride west to Mammoth Springs was wet, slow, and void of any of the magnificent scenery that I had found so captivating during my time in the other parks to date (and even on the ride in).

I finally arrived in Mammoth Springs with the trip odometer reading 11346 miles and managed to meet up with my friends Emily and Liz before the sky let loose again. We found refuge under a store awning and stood huddled together eating the bread, cheese, cherries, and apricots that they had brought from Washington.

The rain eventually passed, and we went our in search of a campsite for the night. We decided that leaving the park would be our best option for vacant, cheap, tourist-free camping and we exited through the north entrance all piled into Emily's little Toyota.

A few miles down a bumpy, gravel road (that made me thankful I had left my motorcycle back at Mammoth) we came across an ideal spot on a lake, surrounded by mountains, and with plenty of firewood to get a roaring blaze started. We settled in, set up the tent, and Liz began making homemade tortillas while Emily and I gathered wood for the fire. The evening was fun and we enjoyed the company of two on Liz/Emily's friends that made the drive down from Colville, WA and would be joining us over the next few days.

We sat around the fire and talked through the essentials: books, travel, and fruit. Great stuff!

Livingston- parting ways

2009-07-26T00:10:00.001-07:00

7/25

We took off our cowboy hats, hung up the flannel, and left the ranch life behind. Our next destination was not far, only about 30 miles south to Livingston, MT, but this would be our final leg of the trip riding together.

On the way out of Wilsall we pulled off to the side of a country road to discuss the situation. Alex, engaged to be married in September, had spent a long two months away from his fiance. Final details for the wedding ceremony and reception were due in a week and he felt that it would be best to be with Alyse as they made those decisions together. If he left, it would be a 1,400 mile trip, in two days, riding alone. It also meant that I would be finishing the last 2,000 miles of the trip solo.

God, in his mercy, provided us with some assistance. For Alex: Alyse's dad, a biker as well, agreed to ride out from Chicago and meet Alex halfway in Sioux Falls, SD. For me: a few friends that we had met during our time in Washington would be touring Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons at the same time I would. They invited me to share in their camping and traveling adventures over the next week. And so it was, we were not alone.

With the decision made the next few moments were a bit sappy as we prepared to ride together one last time. We agreed to get back together and reflect once the journey was over.

And with that, we jumped back on the bikes and rode into Livingston, MT. There we met up with Patrick and his wife, both recent Taylor grads. Alex and I loved talking with them about life on Third East Wengatz, outdoor adventures, and his love for off-roading. (My next motorcycle trip will be through Canada and Alaska... Banff, Jasper, Denali.)

Wilsall- follow your dreams

2009-07-25T00:09:00.000-07:00

7/24

Our friend Seth is a perfect example of someone who abides by the "follow your dreams" motto. Growing up in the Midwestern suburbs, going out west and becoming a cowboy on a big ranch was something that Seth was rarely able to experience outside of the occasional Louis L'Amour novel.

After two years at Taylor it was time, and Seth left with his associates degree to pursue cattle management at Montana State. Since he left two years ago, every time I see him he fits the image a little more. But it was always out of context, back here in Indiana amongst corn fields, not on the open range.

Alex and I arrived in Wilsall, MT around 8:00pm with the trip odometer reading 10950 miles and parked on the street between two big, muddy 4x4 pickups. We could see the whole town from our parking spot, and I got out my phone to call Seth. Just as I placed the phone next to my ear, a tall figure wearing a cowboy hat that shaded a flannel that was tucked into a pair of Wranglers that covered the tops of some slick boots emerged from the diner down the street from where we stood.

His walk and mannerisms gave him away immediately. I put the phone away and Alex and I walked down to meet our friend on the sidewalk where he grinned, let out a little laugh, and gave each of us a hug. "Welcome to Wilsall."

Seth acted amazed to see us like we had dropped out of the sky. He poked and prodded our bikes like one of his cattle and kept saying, "I can't believe you guys are in Wilsall." Seth has always displayed this wide eyed amazement and plays that he is surprised by all that is in the world. But he is clever, clever enough to transplant himself from little burbs to big sky.

We followed Seth into the diner where I warmed over some bread and soup while Alex filled with a Montana sized burger. He told us a bit about life on the ranch and the misunderstandings of people back home. "My friends and family back home think I live the romantic life, riding my horse into the sunset and branding a few cattle, all while having a few drinks with my fellow hands. The truth is, it's a lot of hard work." Tromping around in a mixture of mud and manure up to your knees doesn't seem to make it into the beer commercials and paperbacks.

Although we missed the storms, it had been raining all day in Wilsall, and as Alex and I followed Seth's truck back to the ranch he worked on the road conditions deteriorated. By the time we pulled into the final drive up to his living quarters the road had turned to mud. I hit the final turn a little to fast, and standing on the foot pegs almost spilled in mud that would have been tricky to cross in a dirt bike let alone my street cruiser. Safely parked, I looked back at Alex who was walking his bike up the drive. The bikes were covered in mud, but we didn't care.We were there.

That night we rode with him up to a high point on the ranch. The sky was beautiful and we sat pondering life. Friends are good, and relationships are valuable and worth pursuing.

In the morning we whipped up a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Alex and I raided Seth's closet for a game of man-dress-up cowboy style. After a brief trip into town where Seth educated me on boots, hats, and electric fences we returned to the ranch and hopped on a couple of four-wheelers to explore the range. He took us to some beautiful viewpoints.

After a few hours zipping around through the sage brush, it was time to leave. Seth was sad to see us go, but released us after one final group shot.

Glacier NP- a long post

2009-07-23T00:09:00.000-07:00

7/21

The road to Glacier NP was nice, but Alex and I were not too interested in the scenery. We were ready for some mountain backpacking. We arrived at the park a little late to enter and decided to camp a night outside of the park. While buying some food at the local supermarket, the cashier led us to Flathead Lake, a beautiful, large, recreational lake southwest of the park. The only problem was that everyone else found it nice as well and had taken all of the vacant campsites by the time we arrived. In a situation that felt frighteningly similar to our drive up Oregon's coast, we took some advice from a lucky camper and headed east towards Swan Lake.

We arrived after dark and found a site next to two fellow bikers. They were out from Denver on a two week trip off-road through British Colombia and were now on their way home. We shared our food with them: hot soup (the generic, chunky-in-a-can kind), baked beans (the expensive smothered-in-savory-brown-sugary-sauce-and-BBQ kind), and bread (the normal-needs-no-explanation-found-in-every-kitchen-in-America-sliced kind)... a new favorite. One was a physician's assistant and the other a fifth grade teacher, they had some wild stories. It made me wonder what my teachers and doctors were doing when they weren't molding my young mind or operating on my delicate body. Hmmm?

The next morning, with the trip odometer reading 10525 miles, we rode into the park, went to the backcountry office, and acquired permits for Otokomi Lake. The six mile hike in was mild and mostly tree covered but it did allow us to christen our new sandals on the trail and is an ice cold waterfall.

We arrived at the lake a few hours before sunset and quickly set up camp. It was immediately realized that we would be dealing with mosquitoes as long as we were within a mile of the lake. Memories, or nightmares rather, from Yosemite began to run through our heads.

With the tent set up we wasted no time in setting up our poles and walking down to the lake. Expectations were high as we had been told that the fish were spawning. What we had heard was true, and the big fish were in the clear, shallow water. They were rising all over and Alex and I hammered them as they ate almost anything we threw at them. We caught about 20 beautiful, big Yellowstone Hybrids.

This would have been fish heaven, but the mosquitoes nearly carried us off. We left the lake and returned to the tent to escape the fighting beasts. We even skipped diner after an unsuccessful attempt at cooking a meal in a cloud of buzzing bloodsuckers.

In the morning we packed up food and water and scrambled up the nearest peak with the buzzing in hot pursuit.

Our goal was to hit the ridge and then make our way around the bowl that surrounded Otokomi.

The climb to the ridge was more than we had bargained for and took several hours. The loose, flaking, red rock made for a slow accent. Finally at the top, we were able to see new snow capped peaks and mountain lakes in the distance.

Alex and I were low on water and made it a priority to follow the ridge to a wonderful mountain lake not far from where we stood. Distance and depth can be deceiving and we worked hard scaling some pretty hairy ridge lines to reach the precious goal. Fortunately, we ran across a stream running from a snow melt and were able to filter some water that would sustain us as we worked toward our mountain prize.

After some wild vertical that tested our nerve and skill a little more, we arrived at the lake, removed our packs and garments, and dove from the rocks into the icy blue below. It was a refreshing dip, but we exited like dogs, paddling ferociously to the waters edge and scrambled to land shaking and shivering.

After drying, we cooked up a huge meal. The night before without food left us with double the daily ration and we enjoyed the healthy, full clean-up.

Drunken on the food or full of our ambitions and pride we packed up and attempted the most difficult climb of the day (and probably our lives to date :) ). The route from the lake to the high ridge above was steep and we soon found ourselves pushing our limits. Rocks would loosen under the weight of our hands and feet and fall tumbling 2-300 feet to the next floor below. When the climb became nearly all vertical, Alex stayed behind while I pushed on hoping to find a feasible route. I hit several dead ends and gave into the voice of reason and sense and turned around.

The slow climb down was even more difficult. Alex and I called out foot and hand holds for one another. A few hours later and we were back at the mountain lake. Now we still had a rather sizable decent to our campsite at the lower Lake Otokomi. While there were sections of slow going, we made use of several snow melts and slid hundreds of feet on each which was a blast! Check out our methods of decent...

Back at camp we quickly jumped in the tent avoiding the mosquitoes. This night we went to bed full and free from the pesky little bugs. At one point we counted over 100 on the mesh tent walls between us and the rain fly. Alex and I made a game of flicking them from their landing spot on the tent walls and into the rainfly. If you did it just right it made this pleasant "popping" sound and a few even smacked so hard into the rainfly behind them, they fell to their death. Justice.

We woke up early and tried to pack up before the mosquitoes knew breakfast was out and about. The hike back to the bikes was brisk and hastened to a trip as drizzle turned to downpour. Back at the campstore, the sky let loose and darkness surrounded the mountains. Fortunately, there was a nice big porch where we were able to spread out our stuff, sit down, relax, drink hot coffee, read, write, and visit with the various other people who had gathered under its shelter.

At around 1:00pm the inclimate weather had passed and blue was revealed. Alex and I packed up and lit a shuck for Montanee!

Colville- the rocky road to a fun few days

2009-07-19T00:07:00.000-07:00

7/19

I arrived back in Seattle around 9:00 in the morning, met Alex at the airport, and we made the final turn towards home. Heading east on highway 20 we encountered the beauty of the North Cascades. I was dead tired, though, and spent our break in the national park sleeping on a bench outside of the visitor's center.

After an hour or so Alex was itching to get back on the road and we pressed on, riding east towards Colville, WA. The North Cascade Highway is beautiful, but can be a bit of a trick to follow as it jogs and is constantly changing directions and names. On one eventful ocasion, late in the day, Alex was leading us and discovered the highway took a jog to the left. He saw the sign late, reacted, and made the turn with little asphalt to spare. I, riding close behind and still a bit tired, reacted not so fast to his lead, braked hard, atempted the turn, felt my back tire break lose, bailed out of the turn, and soon found my way through the ditch and into a nice grassy pasture. Laughing, surprised at my fortunate safety, I turned the bike around in the grass and drove the bike back onto the road where a very petrified Alex had returned expecting to find me wrapped around a tree. I couldn't stop giggling. He didn't understand what was so funny and rode away. I followed a little more intently.

The drive to Colville was deceivingly long. We went through dozens of quaint mountain towns, some thriving on tourism, and others dead as a doornail. The setting sun brought a new danger which we were alerted to by a phone call from our next host. Deer were everywhere, and I began to pray a prayer that I have uttered almost every day of the trip: "Lord keep us safe from the animals and keep the animals safe from us." And while we did see probably 8-10 deer, several of which were in the road, we remained safe from one another.

After a disappointing wrong turn, we finally made it to our destination with the trip odometer reading 10156 miles. We were met by our host, Jenny, who called us in to the correct driveway as Alex and I sat in the road contemplating if this was in fact the correct place. Your margin for error becomes frighteningly small after 11:00pm. You really don't want to be waking the wrong folks up at midnight, standing at their door, wearing black leather.

Jenny didn't seem to mind our lateness or leatherness. She was happy we made it void of any deer and invited us inside for some cherries. (We soon found out that east Washington has excellent orcharding.) She listened to a few of our stories from the past few days before we retired to bed in the prepared camper outside.

The next few days were such a blast as we were able to go to church, relax/read/write in the hammocks, ride horses, do some yard work, fish, enjoy meals together, exchange stories. It was excellent. I am just encouraged time an time again at the hospitality and willingness of people to open their homes to us. Alex and I are very thankful.

Something you may or may not know about Alex: he has a tendency to throw little mini temper tantrums, something left over from childhood. Here is a rare look at one caught on film as he was fishing in a lake near the house.

Seattle- no motors?

2009-07-16T16:24:00.000-07:00

7/15

From Corvallis Alex and I rode north through Portland and met up with a few friends from Taylor who are on a bike trip of their own... only they forgot their motors. Kevin, Amy, and David are peddling their road bikes from Vancouver, BC to San Fransisco, CA. It will be quite a feat, and you can follow their progress and stories on their blog: jakkd.info.

We met up at a little county park near Longview, WA where they had prepared an awesome lunch for us all to enjoy. We swapped stories and experiences. I really have to give them props for riding the coast. Alex and I tried to hold in the truth, on our way up we had passed a lot of peddlers looking ragged walking their bikes up the treacherous hills.

They look happy now. I am interested to see the post ride pictures :).

Back on the road, we soon arrived in Centralia, WA about an hour south of Seattle with the trip odometer reading 9673 miles. Alex stayed here with a friend while I went on to the Seattle airport to fly out for a wedding of two of my good friends in Minneapolis. Alex enjoyed a few days of rest and relaxation while I enjoyed seeing friends at the wedding. Two days and I was back and we hit the road making our final turn east.

Corvallis- uno

2009-07-15T16:40:00.000-07:00

7/14

After a night of frustration, we awoke and got the heck out of dodge. The beautiful, curvy mess-of-a-road that lead us inland to Corvallis, OR helped to ease the pain of a disappointing night void of the coast. The ride was fantastic giving us a taste of the richness of Oregon's lush, green, pine, mountain country.

Friends of Alex's family took us in and shared their food and a few beds which we were very thankful for. After a tour of Oregon State's campus, we returned to the house where I inhaled a bowl of ice cream, dominated two rounds of UNO, and then hit the sack.

Oregon Coast- Everything's Bigger in Alaska!

2009-07-14T22:15:00.001-07:00

7/13

The next morning we rode west to the coast. The ride from Redding to 101 is on the the best highways we have ridden.

We stopped to take a bread at a roadside turnout and met one of the funniest people I have ever talked to. Paul, a hippie living in Trinity County, was hitchhiking east trying to make it to the next town over to deliver some court papers. He had been arrested 66 times for various things (protests, hitchhiking, etc.) but never been convicted of anything. He had recently been released from jail after spending two and a half years in a county holding cell. The DA could not find any evidence on which to convict him and he was free.

He had a lot to say about corrupt cops, growing pot, rainbow gatherings, and time behind bars. Note: keep your eyes out for a cookbook Paul wrote while in the slammer entitled, Haikuking (Haiku-cooking), a guide to fine cuisine written all in Haiku format.

He also told us about Texans who are so proud of their big state. "Everybody in Texas thinks 'Every Thing Is Bigger In Texas.' They haven't been to Alaska. The tide goes out two miles. Anchorage has skyscrapers with huge mountains behind it. The day lasts all day and the night lasts so long people kill themselves. And the deer, man. The deer are moose. And moose, they kill trains, man!

We laughed hysterically at Paul's rants for about and hour before jumping back on the bikes and hitting the road. The ride up 101 into Oregon was fun, but that fun soon turned to frustration when we struggled to find a suitable place to camp. We had hoped to find an ideal spot on the beach, and when that failed we ended up at some lame state park a few miles from the ocean overrun with dune-happy ATV freaks.

We arrived after dark with the trip odometer reading 9360 miles and paid $17 dollars for a junky spot. Angry and tired we ate our meal in silence and then went to bed disappointed at being unable to hear the waves crashing outside our tent.

Redding- quick click fix

2009-07-14T22:14:00.001-07:00

7/12

After some fantastic times in Yosemite it was time for Alyse to return to Chicago. Alex and I split ways, he headed to Fresno to take Alyse to the airport while I rode northeast through Carson City and Reno. The plan was to meet up later that day in Redding, CA.

This was our first day riding apart, and it felt strangely free. My bike had been making a terrible "clicking" noise when I accelerated, and I hoped to get it looked at. I stopped at a Denny's for brunch and called every motorcycle shop in the Carson City/Reno phone books. Everyone was closed on Sunday.

I pressed on hoping to find some shop in Redding that would be open first thing in the morning. Once I got back into California, the ride was beautiful: a curvy, low traffic wonderland of pines, mountains, and streams. In a small town about 50 or so miles into CA I passed a garage with several motorcycles parked outside and a big sign that read "High Sierra Cycles." The doors were open to the garage, and I did a U-turn hoping to find someone who could take a look at my bike.

Inside, I met Andy, the mechanic, who had just opened up the shop the day before. I explained my situation, and he said that he would be more than happy to take a look. He advised me to run across the street and grab an ice cream while he finished what he was doing. I did just that celebrating the find with a rootbeer shake, a family favorite.

Back at the shop, he put my bike up on the lift, jacked up the rear tire, and spun it a bit by hand. Immediately he realized the problem. An O-ring sealing one of the links on my drive chain was shot and was causing a kink as it past through the rear sprocket. He shot some chain lube on it which loosened it up. After 6000+ miles of no lube and a long trip through the desert I shouldn't have been surprised.

Andy told me to keep the chain lubricated and sent me away only charging me $10 for the bottle of lube.

Back on the road the clicking was gone and I rode north through the volcanoes of Lassen NP. The ride was great, and I arrived in Redding with the trip odometer reading 8964 miles just before nightfall where Alex had been hanging for about an hour. We enjoyed a stay with a former residency student of Alex's dad.

Yosemite- hiking yosa-mighty

2009-07-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

7/9

In the morning we packed up as usual and then added another backpack and another person. The result can be seen below.

The ride back to Yosemite was much better. We were rested, and had an adventure to look forward to. After stopping several times so that Alyse could regain feeling in her legs, we finally arrived in Tuolumne Meadows with the trip odometer reading 8573 miles.

The three of us packed up our hiking packs and hit the trail towards Glen Aulin. Our goal for the next three days was to take the High Sierra loop and finish on the John Muir trail. Yosemite, which we renamed, Yosa-MIGHTY, is full of beauty and wonder. We spent some time battling the mosquitoes, blisters, and had a few bouts with the altitude, but we came away awe-inspired at the majesty of creation.

The Road to Yosemite- Surprise!

2009-07-09T22:13:00.000-07:00

7/8

Alex led us through the lighted, sleepless city and over the Bay Bridge towards Yosemite. Riding at night is exhilarating at first, then becomes a bit eerie, and finally exhaustion sets in.

We set out on an extremely cold and curvy route to Tuolumne Meadows on the northwest side of Yosemite. We had to stop several times to put on more clothes in an effort to warm our freezing bodies. I think I got up to two pars of pants, two t-shirts, two long-sleeves, and two jackets.

At just before 6:00am we arrived at the wilderness office. Falling frozen off of the saddles we hobbled over to a patch of sunlight that had eluded the shade of the towering pines.

How can it be so cold?

Alex fell asleep against a tree and I wend back to the permitting office to wait in line. Another hiker hopeful had arrived taking his place behind my motorcycle helmet which I had left as a placeholder before we went to warm ourselves in the sun.

He wore a blue puff thermal jacket and smelled of months void of a shower. The stench filled the little overhang and I did my best to keep a strait, smiling face during our introduction. The smell told his story which he confirmed. He was a PCT through hiker and was about two months in to his journey. Having spent some time on the AT, I was accustomed to his kind. He had completed the AT and this was his second trip on his way to completing the triple crown of hiking (the final being the Continental divide). We talked about nothing, complained, and waited tired and impatient for the office to open, a necessary inconvenience to seeing the great wild wonder of the outdoors.

Alex and several other hopefuls joined us just before the office door was unlocked. I was worried about him joining me inside and wasn't sure how I would get three, instead of two, permits without his knowledge. By God's mercy and humor, Alex received a phone call from his friend Brian as we were all shuffling inside to do our business. I emphatically assured him that I could take care of securing the permits and that he should feel free to pursue the call outside in the parking lot.

The ranger must have been at least a little suspicious of our reasons for visiting as I rushed through the process and provided quick impatient responses to all of her questions all while constantly looking over my shoulder and through the window to the parking lot outside. I was sure Alex would walk through the door any second as she said, "Are you sure one bear canister will be enough for three people, you better take two." She convinced me to take two but only because I didn't have time to stay and argue. We would later return one.

We now had permits but lacked a very essential component, Alyse. I was in need of a visit to a doctor for some simple routine tests. Over the past few days, I had fed Alex the story that the tests would need to be done in Fresno because the hospital there was the only one on my medical insurance plan. He now contested this plan and even went into the permitting office to ask if there were any hospitals closer to the park. Of course there were, but I held fast to my story. I couldn't let Alex lead himself unknowingly away from the arms of his lover.

We set out for Fresno around 9:00am. We made it exactly 17 miles down the road before stopping for a nap. Both exhausted, we pulled of at a turnout, walked down the embankment about 20 yards, laid down under a big pine tree, and fell asleep. Alex didn't even remove his helmet to which he still is convinced is the best pillow and is even useful when laying face down.

We woke up two hours later to biting ants and got back on the road refreshed. The ride into Fresno was long, slow, hot, and boring.

I checked into the ER at 2:30pm. We left at 9:30pm. Apparently, I wasn't in enough pain to be seen sooner or the finger prick blood sample was more complicated than it looked. The hospital was in bad shape. They were horribly understaffed. The waiting room was overflowing and patients were being treated and kept in the hallways because all of the private rooms were full.

When we finally left, we were hungry, tired, and discouraged having had no food and very little sleep since San Fransisco. At least I saw the purpose. Alex had no idea that Alyse would be arriving on a plane in an hour. I think by now Alex hated me.

I cheered him up by stopping at In-and-Out for burgers (2x2), fries (animal style), and milkshakes. While stretching our shriveled stomachs to fit the form of greasy, American fast food, I received word that Alyse had landed and set the rendezvous point to be a local grocery store. We needed to get food for the hike, and this was the only place I had a chance convincing Alex to follow me to. He had already begun looking near the parking lot for bushes that could hide his seeping body.

The walk around the grocery store seemed to last for hours as I waited for the signal that Alyse had arrived. With three hours of sleep in the past 36, we were like walking zombies. I grabbed an extra of all we bought which frustrated a confused Alex, but he was too tired to argue.

At just before midnight we checked out and started packing our bags in the parking lot. Minutes later a par pulled into the nearly empty lot stopping in front of our bikes. The passenger side window lowered and behold, a fiance was born.

"Hi!"

Alex couldn't trust his tired eyes. He dropped the water bottle he was holding, and walked slowly to the car without saying a word. I think the surprise knocked the wind out of him. What followed was all joy, and any tired feelings were swept out the window.

We abandoned the bush idea and checked into a motel across the street for a decent nights rest before setting out on our adventure the next day.

Alyse and I exchanged high-fives, proud of our accomplishment and then began fielding questions from a bewildered but grateful friend and fiance.

San Fransisco- the Wacky Jacky

2009-07-07T22:12:00.000-07:00

7/6

In the morning after some breakfast Alex and I gave our bikes a bath, which was long overdue, and left for a clean cruise up the coast on CA-1. We arrived in San Fransisco just before dark with the trip odometer reading 8041 miles.

We were met on the sidewalk of busy 19th avenue by Alex's Uncle Billy a jolly dude with a sweet goatee. He gave us hugs and helped us back our bikes out of the traffic and into the garage under the house. The house, which was built in the 30's was home to Alex's grandfather through most of his life, at one time 19th ave was not so big and busy.

Billy insisted we come inside. Alex's grandmother had been pacing around the house in anticipation of our arrival and he was sure she was going to wear a hole in the floor. We all ate together and I listened as Uncle Billy and Grandma told stories and showed pictures of Alex as a little guy. Funny stuff!

Exhausted, I fell asleep early and woke to Alex's insistence that I go on a run with him down to the beach. I love the smell of the salty air, and the breeze made the run on the hard packed sand nice and cool. We finished on the beach to search for treasures amidst the rocks and shells. The walk back was long, uphill and we weren't running. Finally back in the house we loaded up on San Fran sourdough and set out with Billy to explore the city.

Billy, a union worker and deep sea fisherman, was a perfect tour guide. He parked his little car in the pier outside the warehouse he manages and we strolled out towards the fisherman's wharf. He wanted to show us the Wacky Jacky, the boat he fishes off of. On the way we stopped for pictures of the Bay Bridge, Alcatraz, and the Golden Gate (I could just hear the Full House theme song playing through my head).

Jacky wasn't around, but Billy knew most of the fishermen, and they whistled acknowledging "hellos" to each other which made me feel less like a tourist. He inquired about the catch of the day and then took us down the street for some tasty clam chowder. We grabbed a trolley for a quick trip back to the car and then drove down Lombard Street, the curviest street in the world, on our way back to the house. (I want to make a joke about not much being strait in San Fran... is that ok?)

Back at the house, I tried to iron out the final details of Alyse's surprise arrival in Yosemite, finalize our hiking plans and permits, and fix the clicking sound that had developed in my bike during acceleration. Alex and I would need to leave at 1:00am from San Fran to make it to the permitting office in Yosemite in time and then would need to leave from there to go to Fresno to meet up with Alyse. After taking apart and cleaning the front sprocket and putting it back together the bike still made the "click" when I took it for a test ride, but at least it worked.

At 12:30am we packed up silently, opened the garage door, and pushed our motorcycles out onto the sidewalk. The city was still alive. After hitting the button and sliding under the closing door, we were back on the road.

San Luis Obispo- foodies and bike races

2009-07-05T21:58:00.000-07:00

7/4

We left LA behind us and headed north to San Luis Obispo. The college town which is inland of the coast by about 10 miles is home to Cal Poly and Alex's Aunt Tess and Uncle Dan. We arrived around noon in SLO ("slow") with the trip odometer reading 7808 miles.

It was the Fourth of July an we sat outside under the beautiful California sun scarfing down hot dogs and finger foods. These weren't your normal, run of the mill, Upton Sinclair, meat mess hot dogs, though. There was something special about them. I'm not sure what it was, but they were good. Alex's aunt graduated with a food sciences degree from Cal Poly and is what some would call a "foodie." I wouldn't call myself a food critic (beggars can't be choosers), but I sure did appreciate her taste throughout our stay.

The next day they took us on a little tour of the area. We went down to the beach and watched fishermen (and women) pull sardines up by the dozens and put them in their little coolers. Back in town, we visited the university and walked around the college town including a stop at "bubble gum alley."

There was a bike race (criterium) going on downtown and the city was full of activity. We stayed to watch the 1/2/pro race which had a fantastic finish!

Normally our hosts enjoy asking us questions about our travels and any funny situations we have encountered along the way, but in SLO the roles reversed as Alex and I found out that Tess and Dan had been on some interesting trips of their own. Alex's Uncle took two years sailing from California to New Zealand on a 36' sailboat with one other friend. He pulled out the photo album and shared some stories... fasinating, not to mention he is in two books! As a married couple, Tess and Dan set out on their own adventure. They sold thier belongings, put the money in the bank, bought a VW vanagon, and took off on an 18 month trip around the US visiting family and friends. We loved hearing about their travels and seeing familier pictures (rocks don't change but clothing styles do).

Hollywood- living in the land of film

2009-07-03T21:31:00.000-07:00

7/3

From San Diego Alex and I headed north to LA. Right before we left Alex's dad called to remind us to stay away from gangs. We didn't run into any gangs, but we did hit a bit of traffic either from the San Diego County Fair or Jackson fans heading to Neverland. We navigated the mess by taking advantage of California's "motorcycle down the center lane" rule. We had to dodge a few side view mirrors and lucky for us no one decided to open their doors for a whiff of fresh LA air. After a few minutes of center lane weaving we decided to return to the HOV lane and didn't have much trouble making it to our hosts home in north Hollywood.

We arrived with the trip odometer reading 7403 miles. The house was home to five college guys, two of which were Taylor grads, and all of which were in the film industry in one form or another. While there were remnants of college life (Halo being played on the big screen). I must commend them on their anti-college cleanliness and class. The home would make their mothers proud.

That night the guests started pouring in. It was movie night, go figure, and a bunch of their friends from church (where "Buster" from Arrested Development is an elder) came over for a packed out showing of Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction. The film, which I hadn't seen in a few years, was as good as I remembered it, and as with many second viewings, I noticed new things.

It was encouraging to see some fellow TU alums following their dreams, living together, and participating in intentional, Christ-centered community. They would make Bonhoeffer and mom smile. Way to go!

Whitewater Rafting Photo

2009-07-03T01:55:00.000-07:00

I just received this photo that was taken last month in Denver when my family came out to visit. I am so proud of my mom not only for going but for smiling in this picture. Way to go Mom!

San Diego- the countdown and surfing

2009-07-02T18:27:00.001-07:00

7/1

We left Phoenix at 8:00 am and it was already stifling hot. The drive west to San Diego on I-8 was long, windy, boring, and yes... you guessed it... HOT! We stopped briefly at a Wendy's for Frosty's (our usual moral booster) and I was rewarded with a receipt that allowed me to take a short phone survey for a free quarter pounder. Yipee! Alex and I considered digging through the trash bins to see if there were any disregarded survey receipts, but we held our composure and retained our dignity.

We passed through several Border Patrol checkpoints and miles and miles of hot desert sand before finally crossing into some small mountains where the increased elevation brought a break in the heat. Soon we were in San Diego, the land of mysteriously perfect, temperate weather. As we pulled up to the house, the trip odometer rolled over to 7464 miles, and we were met by my good friend (and former roommate), Jay, and his girlfriend, Chelsea.

As I tell many people who ask how this whole trip got started, Jay was the dreamer who got this ball rolling in the first place. Jay was my roommate my sophomore year at TU. We used to lay in bed thinking up crazy trips we wanted to take if we ever had the chance... kayak the Mekong, hitchhike Europe, etc. One of his dreams was to ride a motorcycle from Alaska to the southern tip of South America. He did some research as to what it would take, and we placed it on the back burner.

Through a series of events last summer, the dream was resurrected, and I asked Jay if he still wanted to take the motorcycle trip. Now in graduate school at San Diego State, a summer away wasn't a possibility, and I called Alex who is now riding by my side. (We changed the route to a domestic trip for cost reasons... but maybe someday, who knows?)

Like I mentioned in the last post, music is a void that Alex and I are constantly trying to fill. A stay with Jay was just what the doctor ordered. Not only does he have an excellent iTunes collection, but Jay is very talented on the strings and played us some of his original work. Jay is constantly adjusting and fine-tuning his top 100 playlist and that night he took us through the top 25 and explained his criteria for selection. We disputed some of the picks, but overall it was a great list that satisfied our thirst for music.

In the morning, we woke up, grabbed some breakfast, and headed out in Chelsea's VW Cabrio convertible for a tour of the city and a trip up the coast. Three dudes in a little, cute convertible with the top down, cruising the strip must have been quite the sight, but we didn't care. We were in California!

We landed at Chelsea's house, picked up some surfboards and wetsuits, and walked down to the beach to try out the waves. There were many surfers floating out in the water when we arrived and the waves seemed to be big. We had fun stuffing Alex into the girl's wetsuit :) and then started our paddle out to the break.

Surfing was a blast, but as inexperienced riders we were mostly dominated by the crashing waves. After a few hours and some new bumps and bruises, we headed in to dry off and eat some snacks.

That night we were able to attend a growth group that Jay leads. I'm not talking physical growth; Jay is tall enough already. The group of five guys of different ages and backgrounds meets once a week for a meal, to talk about life, and study the Bible together. The time was great and we left encouraged and strengthened by the Gospel.

Phoenix- imposible without AC or a swimming pool

2009-07-01T18:03:00.000-07:00

6/30

The road to Phoenix was hot and boring. The one redeeming factor was a stop in Cameron, AZ where Alex and I split one huge, delicious Navajo taco. I wish I had a picture, but you will have to take my word for it. The thing was massive!

Finally we arrived in the Sun City with our trip odometers melting at 7118 miles. Our host for the night was a friend from Taylor. His family, who lives in Oaxaca, Mexico, spends time in Phoenix in the summer. It was great to meet them and hear funny stories about our friend, Andrew, growing up in Central and South America. Mom even brought out the photo albums!

Phoenix is hot! In my mind, it must have been uninhabitable before the age of air conditioning and swimming pools. Nearly every house has a swimming pool in the backyard, and Alex and I enjoyed floating around with Andrew in theirs while listening to the radio. Music is a real treat as most of our time spent on the bike is in solitude, and any sound outside the spattering of your own voice and the dull roar of an engine is a gift.

We survived the heat and woke early to depart for San Diego. Before leaving Alex and I cleaned our chains and gave them a bit of lube. Fighting the desert dirt and grit and maintaining the chain and sprockets has been a challenge. We hope they will last for a few thousand more miles.

Grand Canyon

2009-06-30T16:25:00.000-07:00

6/28

Today we drove into the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I had thought that the whole canyon was surrounded by desert and that there was no greenery anywhere near the canyon, but I was pleasently suprised by an unpopulated 45 minute drive through Ponderosa Pines to reach the North Rim.

When we arrived we were greeted by Ken and Beth Smith who are, as Ken would say, "Going on the 42 year of their honeymoon". Ken and Beth are working at the Grand Canyon for their second summer and have explored the 4 x 4 roads, grand canyon trails, and the best spots to watch the sunset over the canyon. Needless to say, when we arrived they wisked us off to catch the sunset because the Grand Canyon has so much to see in just one full day.

The next morning we were on the trail by 6:15 am and hiking down the Grand Canyon. It was hard going at first chasing Beth down the trail as I watched her literally hop and skip down the canyon. On the way down we were educated on the different layers of rocks...from coconino sandstone to redwall...and we got an up close and personal look at the various layers as we traversed switchback after switchback.

On the way up the trail we chased Ken, so Kyle and I were always chasing one of the Smith's. Anyhow, it started to heat up on the way up the canyon and Ken had to advise some people to turn around because they were not packing enough water.

After the hike we ate lunch with the Smiths and had a relaxing afternoon in the canyon. I took this time to begin to learn how to sew my Holy jeans. The patched holes were definitely not pretty when I was finished, but at least the jeans were made decent. In fact, the jeans looked so scraggly that Ken refused to take a picture with me sewing because he did not want to be associated with my poor handy-work.

As much as I apprciated the Smiths' willingness to show us the Grand Canyon, share their home, and feed Kyle and I; the biggest blessing was the company they offered us and their encouragment to us as we continue the trip and enter into the next stages of our life. Beth encouraged me through saying that, "The day you get married is the day you love your wife the least", which offended me at first but then I realized that she meant I would fall more in love every day. Her words were particularly encouraging because Ken and Beth truely displayed a growing love in their own marriage.

Zion NP and the North Rim- oceans of air

2009-06-30T11:32:00.000-07:00

6/28

We woke up early and hit the road arriving at Zion NP in time for the early A Christian Ministries in a National Park (ACMNP) service. The service was great and we left not only refreshed but also with good advice for hiking and swimming.

We chose to hike to Angel’s Landing which provided us with spectacular views of the giant sheer canyon cliffs. This came at the expense of some pretty hair raising walks along a trail that was often just feet from a 1000 plus foot drop to the canyon floor. Chains assisted in the hike to the top.

Back on the canyon floor we encountered a fight between a rattle snake and a squirrel. In the shade of a rock overhang, we couldn't seem to determine the reason for the fight. The squirrel would flip sand at the snake and then the snake would retaliate with a quick, violent snap at the squirrel. Watch this video and check it out.

After several hours of hiking, we packed up the bikes and headed to a secret little swimming hole. We followed the unmarked trail to a pool about 30 feet in diameter bound on two sides by big boulders. There were two local families enjoying the cool waters and they were surprised to see two strangers who had wondered into their special spot. After hearing our story, they invited us in like family, shared their food and drink, and showed us how to jump in avoiding the shallow rocks hiding below the water’s surface. It was a great way to cool off and get out of the midday heat.

After an hour or so of refresh, we jumped back on the bikes and started our drive south to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

We were surprised by the landscape leading up to the North Rim. The road took us through forests of Ponderosa pines that towered above us on either side. The air was cool and pleasant. Not the arid desert that I was expecting.

We arrived at the North Rim visitors’ center around 7:30 pm with the trip odometer reading 6753 and were met by Ken and Beth our hosts for the night. We parked the bikes beside their 5th wheel and drove down to the rim with them to catch the sunset.

The Grand Canyon is huge. It’s like a great ocean of air. It has many shared qualities to our great oceans to the east and west. You walk to the edge, like a walk to the shore. The vastness is captivating. Sunrises and sunsets over its horizon are a spectacle.

Ken and Beth were planning to take us on a hike down into the canyon in the morning and we grabbed a shower (the first one in days) and slept like babies in the bed they provided (also the first in days).

Bryce Canyon NP- hoodoos and beans

2009-06-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

6/27

Highway 12 to Bryce Canyon was one of the more enjoyable rides of the trip so far. At an overlook 14 miles south of Torrey, we met a guy from England named Torrey. He was riding a 1200 GS, and I asked him about his trip. As he rolled a cigarette he explained that he had been laid off from his job in the UK, had his bike shipped to the US, and was about 11,000 miles into his trip. Having traveled across Alaska and the Arctic Circle, he was now making his way through the US and then down through Central and South America. He wins!

We arrived in Bryce in the midday and were recommended at the visitors’ center to do the Sunrise to Sunset hike. On the trail map in the park newspaper it claimed that the loop was the “best three-mile hike in the world.”

Alex and I changed, loaded up on water and set out with high expectations. Having never seen or really heard about Bryce, the canyon was a real surprise. The rock formations look like a giant sand castle, the kind you make by letting wet sand drip from your hand into piles.

The fingerlike spires, called Hoodoos, give the canyon the feel of an abandoned fairyland. We had fun exploring the trails for a few hours and returned to the restrooms to clean up, change and fill up on water before heading towards Zion NP.

We left Bryce satisfied and set out to look for camping closer to Zion NP. Alex and I stopped for fuel about an hour away from Zion. We bought two microwaved hot dogs to hold us over, two cans of baked beans, some cubed cheese, and a bag of “scoop” corn chips. It was getting dark, and the guy behind the counter pointed us in the direction of some possible camping.

Just off of a little mountain road, at an elevation of about 10,000 feet, and with the trip odometer reading 6586miles we took a gravel road back into the trees and stumbled upon a stone fire ring. It was an ideal spot for the night and the sun was just preparing to drop over the pines. We found plenty of wood and Alex built and nice warm fire. We cut the tops off of the bean cans with Alex’s knife and set the cans in a pile of hot coals that I had separated from the fire. We let them boil for a few minutes before removing them. Huddled over the little cans we prayed, broke the remaining bagel and dug in first sopping us the liquid with the bread. Next, we mixed in the cheese, let it melt amongst the warm beans and scoped out the precious delight with the corn chips. Practically gourmet!

Capitol Reef NP- LDS generosity

2009-06-28T10:11:00.000-07:00

6/26

In the morning, Alex and I packed up, left the park, and headed south. We stopped in Monticello to grab some coffee and breakfast at a café that had a sign for internet. We parked the bikes, turned off the engines, and then noticed a pavilion across the street packed with people doing the “YMCA” dance. Some from their group were also grilling pancakes and naturally we needed to find out what was going on.

We strolled over and just tried to make conversation with the first person we could. We were met by a very friendly lady in a homemade t-shirt that read “Gail Family.” She explained, as if it were the greatest event on earth, that it was a family reunion and that we were welcome to stay and be a part of the festivities.

It must have been written all over our faces because she immediately offered us some fresh pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, juice, milk, etc.! What a blessing. We sat under the pavilion and chowed down. They were very eager to talk, and were very friendly and hospitable to us their new guests.

They were a part of the LDS church, and as we would find out over the next few days, Mormons are extremely kind and generous people. We filled our stomachs, a real answer to prayer, and then went back to the café for coffee and internet.

We sat off after donning our raingear in preparation for the afternoon storms that seemed to be forming in the distance. This turned out to be wise because we hit a heavy, short rain blast that lasted about 20 minutes before allowing us to emerge to sunny, blue skies to the west. We were surrounded by the red cliffs of a canyon that led us down to and across the Colorado River. Massive wind gusts swirling and unseen nearly knocked us off the bikes. Alex was sure that if his chin strap wouldn’t have been there, the wind would have taken his helmet right off.

The strong winds not only tested our balance but also affected our fuel economy, and Alex and I both switched to reserve a bit early. Alex eventually ran out of gas completely before we reached the next filling station. Fortunately, he had gas in the external tanks that we carry and was able to make it the remaining miles to fill up.

The drive into Capitol Reef was nice. Twisty, curvy roads ran between a variety of stone forms and colors. There were lumpy, white forms and tall red cliffs. Capitol Reef is especially interesting because of the preserved historical Mormon settlement of Fruita that remains and is a primary attraction in the park. We arrived with the trip odometer reading 6430 miles.

On a search for food, Alex spotted a fly shop and went in to pick the brain of the cashier for some public access. He must have been rather charming because her advice led us down a dirt road to some of the best fishing on the trip to date. The little stream that hugged the side of red cliffs that rose above it was full of beautiful brown trout that were feeding off of the top water. We caught a few nice fish on dry flies and then retired due to the lowering sun.

On our way back to the Capitol Reef campground we stopped at a local hotel to soak in their hot tub. The worker staffing the front desk didn’t seem to mind and was busy talking on his cell phone. We changed in the laundry room and enjoyed 20 minutes of relaxation and cleaning, what I call a “chemical bath.”

Back at the campground we set up the tent to dry from the night before and made some hot chocolate to enjoy before catching some zzz’s.

In the morning, we decided to go on a run. We had been eying the LDS youth group next to us and their breakfast. Our other neighbors must have seen our longing looks because as we were leaving for our run they invited us over for bagels and cereal. We gratefully accepted their generosity and enjoyed the food and fellowship. They even sent us off with five extra bagels for the road.

Canyonlands NP- stars, ravens, and methamphetamine

2009-06-27T09:44:00.000-07:00

6/24

While most motorcycle riders don’t have the physique of a marathon runner, it seems to me that riding a motorcycle in the desert requires the same close examination of proper hydration to stay alive. The air is dry and hot, and sitting on a motorcycle with the warm air blowing across you makes you forget that you are losing water. Any sweat evaporates immediately. Thus, Alex and I just drink water at every stop whether we want to sip warm water or not.

We left Arches after filling up our water bottles at the visitor center and headed south through Moab to Canyonlands NP. Canyonlands is located well of the highway by about 40 miles, and we were not sure what to expect for camping. We kept our eyes out for potential roadside spots thinking we might need to pitch a tent just about anywhere. Instead, we ended up driving all the way into the park partially looking for our friend Steve (from Arches) and partially because we really couldn’t afford to backtrack with our gas situation.

We didn’t find Steve, but we found a great campsite, parked our bikes, and set out to explore the rocks. The landscape was like nothing I had imagined, let alone expected. Large mushroom-shaped rock formations spotted the floor, some connected, some standing alone. Rock “needles” (for which the district of the park was named) rose out of the canyon walls that surrounded us. The rock seemed to be in two distinct layers, one white and the other red.

We scrambled to the highest mushroom and sat relaxing in the coolness of the desert evening waiting for the sun to set. It was absolutely beautiful, and we stayed up there for a few hours, talking, snapping some photos, and watching the spectacular sun lower behind the distant canyon walls.

After grabbing a few Starbucks pastries from our newly acquired stash, we returned to the rocks to sleep out under the stars. This turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip as the stars were about the best I have ever seen. We must have caught glimpses of 15 shooting stars between the two of us, and several satellites made the trip across the vast, twinkling sky while we lay there in awe of God’s creation.

The following video was shot after Alex noticed a raven floating quite close to where we were sitting on the rocks. Watch it and then read on. It's irony will be realized soon.

In the morning, we grabbed a few pastries for breakfast, secured our remaining treasure to a small limb high in the tree by our camp, and took of for a hike into the canyons. The hike was wonderful, and the cloud cover kept us cool all day. As we finished, we watched a large lightning storm roll through to the south of us.

We returned to the campsite thankful to find everything dry. Unfortunately, the two bags of pastries that we had hung in the tree and were to sustain us for the next four days were torn open and had been picked clean by Ravens. I paced around the campsite with Alex, cursing the birds and picking up the tattered wrappers. Hungry, we drove 60 miles into town and ate a large pepperoni pizza realizing that it would take a whole tank of gas to return to the town on our way out the following day… an expensive meal!

On our way back to camp we noticed our site neighbors were outfitted with arm length, orange rubber gloves and face masks. They would go between their car and tent with bottles and other objects. My best guess was that they were running a meth lab. They didn’t look like the druggie type and we went over to introduce ourselves, inquire about their garb, and invite them to our planned night campfire.

It turned out that they were on a very similar road trip around the country. They both will be starting graduate programs at Harvard in the fall and wanted a little refresh before entering the next station of life. They were not in the narcotics business at all and instead were trying to disinfect their stuff after a mouse decided to make a home and lay babies in the trunk of their car. You can read their story at www.nationalparking.wordpress.com.

That night it rained. Alex and I were confined to the tent. No starry night on the rocks.

Arches- my red beard

2009-06-25T16:47:00.000-07:00

6/24

After a successful plug change, we left Colorado heading west on I-70. The drive to Arches NP was great once we were off of the interstate. Canyons, red rock, mountains in the distance and the Colorado River were all visible from our route. At a picture stop along the River we met a solo rider named Steve. We exchanged picture taking and agreed to ride through Arches together. I asked him if he left any family at home to which he replied, “Yep, I just left the divorce papers on the table and took off. Timing is everything.” This comment struck hard, especially to Alex as he prepares for marriage, and we hoped to be an encouragement to our new friend over the next few hours.

Arches NP was cool but HOT! We were amazed by the red arch structures but the park is very commercialized and is really just an interactive exhibit as visitors primarily drive through the park on the paved road and stop to take pictures of the various arch formations. Not a hiker’s park.

You can walk up to and around the arches, and Alex and I enjoyed climbing around the giant structures. Steve wasn’t too much into climbing around and he left with Alex’s phone number saying that he would call us with his camping location in case we wanted to meet up later.

While climbing around Alex took this video of my new red beard.

Leaving Grand Junction- pastries and spark plugs

2009-06-24T15:15:00.000-07:00

6/24

Back in Fredericksburg I was given the novel, The Road, written by Cormac McCarthy. I was warned that it might be a bit of a frightening book if I read it in the backcountry. I hadn't taken the time to crack it open until Denver and now I was having a difficult time putting it down. Because we would soon be out in the wilderness in a few days, I decided to set out to finish it before entering Utah.

The novel takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where a father and son walk through a burned and ravaged land supporting one another with love as they try to survive their trek down the road trying to reach the coast. McCarthy, a Pulitzer Prize winner, is an excellent author and his stark, gritty prose provides an intriguing story. I would highly recommend it!

The novel was especially interesting given my and Alex's own trek through America. While our surroundings don't seem as grim and no one has yet tried to kill us (that I am aware of) there are common feelings of survival that we share with the main characters in the story. In the novel the father and son carry all of their belongings in a cart that they must maintain and fill with the necessary items for survival as they find them.

Since leaving Breckenridge, Alex had noticed some trouble with his bike. It misfired a few times while riding and seemed to lose power several times throughout the trip to Grand Junction. After checking several options, our best guess was that the spark plugs were fouling up, and we decided to pull them. Fortunately, we had an extra set of plugs and in the coolness of the early morning we set out the tools and got to work. We have to take care of our carts as they are vital to our survival.

Last night, one of the visitors who had been on the Kenya trip brought Alex and I two full bags of pastries that were a day old from the Starbucks where she worked. This was a huge unexpected gift, and we carefully packed them into our "carts." They would (or should have... you'll see) provide us with free nourishment for the next few days.

Grand Junction- Independence Pass and The National Monument

2009-06-24T14:12:00.000-07:00

6/23

Alex and I left Breckenridge refreshed (It is good to stay in one spot for a whole day every week or two.) We took Tony’s advice and went west towards Grand Junction taking Independence Pass over the Continental Divide. This was a beautiful ride and we snapped a few pictures at the top. The guys that took the below picture for us were getting ready to hike up to the summit of a nearby peak and ski down the snow that remained at the top. Keep in mind it is late June, definitely not a possibility on the Michigan slopes.

Also, after taking this picture, a couple from the Ukraine wanted the same picture in front of the sign. I asked them if they wanted us to move the bikes, assuming they wanted them clear from the picture. “No, no, no,” they said. We want the American’s bikes in the picture. I asked them which one they liked better… the yellow one of course!

Emerging from Aspen back onto interstate 70, the scenery and landscape began to undergo drastic changes. The temperature began to rise, the lush forests turned to desert, and the mountains became tall mesas: a nice change signaling that we were leaving Colorado soon.

We arrived at our hosts’ home just before 5:00pm, with the trip odometer reading 5814 miles, and stood in the road examining Alex’s bike, which had been acting funny. We were soon met in the driveway with warm greetings and invited in for some cold limeade, a wonderful hot weather remedy. Thom and Shari live with their four children and Thom runs a company that assists universities like Taylor with recruiting fresh meat. I wonder if their tactics helped reel me in?

They took us to the nearby Colorado National Monument, where we got our first taste of canyon land. This was my first canyon experience stateside as I had the opportunity to hike the Fish River Canyon in Namibia a few summers ago. The natural carvings form beautiful spires and like spotting shapes in the clouds, their youngest, Gannon, had fun pointing out animals he spotted in the canyon walls.

We returned to the house and enjoyed time with the family and some other guests that had just returned from a trip to Kenya. Thom and Shari fund an orphanage there and a team had just returned from a three week visit. It was great to trade stories from our various travels.

Breckenridge- my new home

2009-06-23T10:47:00.000-07:00

6/21

After a short but tiring ride from Denver, we arrived in Breckenridge with the trip odometer reading 5420 miles.

Breckenridge was our first stop after I returned from seeing Alyse at Becky and Aaron Hoesli's wedding in Michigan and it is also where Alyse and I will be living after we get married. We were welcomed by Tony and his family and then quickly recruited into helping lay soil for the garden in front of their house, which was interesting because the growing season seems like it would be 2 months max. After helping with the garden they decided that Kyle and I would be allowed to stay and have dinner with them.

It was expesially nice for us to be able to share a few meals with their family to get a sneak peak of where Alyse and I will be living next year and to hear about Kairos and how we will be able to pour into a ministry that is reaching out to the "Breck" community.

We stayed in Breck for one full day and two nights. On the full day we got to go fishing and take a motorcycle ride for fun (what a concept). But fishing was the highlight of my day because we walked right down the hiking path in the middle of town and caught 6 brown trout in a few hours. The experience made me very excited to live in Breck with Alyse and be able to pursue some outdoor interests that we have not had the oppotunity to before. For example, Alyse has only been snowboarding one time and she is moving to Colorado in the shadow of a ski resort...so hopefully snowboarding in Colorado will be more appealing then when I took her to a garbage dumb in Ohio to try it for the first time. Anyways, after fishing we took a motorcycle ride that was bittersweet because we passed by Quandary mountain. Quandary has a little bit of history with Kyle and I because our Jr year we tried to summit in April and ended up having to stop about 150 vertical feet from the summit. But the rest of the ride over the mountain pass was beautiful.

Breck was overall a good and relaxing stay, but also very exciting for me because it will be where I get to sart life with Alyse as a married couple.

Denver- family away from family

2009-06-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

6/20

I parted with my family at the airport, picked up my bike from long-term parking, and drove through the light rain to my hosts' house for the evening. Ezekiel (a visiting professor from the University of Denver) was one of my favorite professors during my four years of study at Taylor. After spending three months in South Africa the summer after my freshman year I was searching for some answers to some of the things I had seen and heard.

I showed up in Ezekiel's class as a sophomore engineering major, and remember experiencing mixed feelings as he wrote "SOC 370- Sociology of Post Colonial Africa" on the blackboard. I looked around at the SOC majors around me... I must be in the wrong place. But the class was the right place for me to be. Ezekiel taught with great knowledge and wisdom sharing his passion for the material with his students. I loved the class, the reading, the discussions, and most of all, his jovial laugh.

In the spring when Alex and I were searching for potential contacts along our route, I remembered Ezekiel's invitation to stop by his house if I was ever in the Denver area. I sent him an email now two and a half years later with a reintroduction and even a picture to try and spark his memory. He laughed at my attempts to remind him of who I was and his offer. He remembered and warmly invited me to his home in Denver.

I enjoyed meeting his wife and three sons who welcomed me in and made me feel like family. They took me on a tour of Denver which primarily consisted of the academic places- libraries, universities. (The man reads more than any person I have ever met!) They caught me up on the world of soccer, which was especially exciting as we approach the World Cup (hosted by South Africa in 2010). In the morning, I enjoyed a traditional Nigerian breakfast of Akara (fried beans and fish) which was tasty!

Twitter Updates

2009-06-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

I have added twitter updates to the left sidebar. Alex and I will be posting tweets every once in a while as our internet access over the next week or so will be limited. Enjoy!

A Family Visit

2009-06-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

6/17

The past few days have been a blessing. While Alex has been in Michigan at a wedding, my parents flew out from Indiana for a visit. We met at Denver International Airport and headed up to Estes Park for a few days in the mountains.

We spent the late afternoon in Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP) driving the Trail Ridge Road through the park. The views from the ridge were spectacular. Above the tree line the air was cold and thin, and there was snow on the ground.

The next morning, we woke up early, grabbed some breakfast and headed to the Poudre River for some exciting white water rafting. My mom was initially hesitant to accept my dad’s convincing arguments that she would enjoy the adventure, but after three hours in the class III and IV rapids she loved it.

Over the next couple of days we relaxed. I took a little hiking trip up into the mountains a few miles and caught a trout in a mountain stream. I must give credit to Alex and his dad for teaching me the ropes of fly fishing. It feels good to stand on my own feet a bit.

Colorado Springs- half way

2009-06-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

6/15

Alex blazed the trail into Colorado and did a great job leading the way. We took a longer scenic route, but then again almost any route through Colorado is scenic.

We arrived in Colorado Springs with the trip odometer reading 5213 miles.

Our hosts for the next 1.5 nights were Alan and his wife Julie. Alan, a friend from Taylor, is an outdoor nut. He has a heart for leadership development and is a youth pastor at a church in the Springs (Vanguard). The man is a wealth of wisdom for youngin’s like us. Both nights Alex and I had the opportunity to sit and talk through a variety of topics with Alan ranging from money, to marriage, adoption, calling, the church, faith, what is fair, and others. Good stuff!

It was good to have a full day in one spot to rest up a bit. Alex got his tires changed at a local Honda motorsports dealership. We spent most of our time in the break room with two older guys who apparently hang out there regularly (everyone knew them). They were absolutely hilarious! I was close to tears a few times laughing at their outrageous stories and grumpy ranting. I’m sure they enjoyed the audience.

The rest of the afternoon, Alex and I relaxed, played around at the Garden of the Gods, went for a jog in the high altitude, and enjoyed thirty-cent taco night at Del Taco. Alan was teaching at the twenty-something’s ministry at Vanguard and we were able to go.

I said that we stayed for 1.5 nights because at 3:00am our alarms went off, and in a daze we packed up our stuff and made a cold trip to Denver International Airport. Alex had a wedding to attend and in his absence my parents were coming to Colorado for a visit.

This is about the half way point in our trip, and it will be good to take a few days break from the bike.

Happy Belated Birthday to My Little Buddy Andrew

2009-06-15T17:38:00.000-07:00

My little buddy Andrew's birthday was about a week ago. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to attend his party so I decided to send him a little present. I hope he likes his cake lumpy and green.

Santa Fe- stuck inbetween storms

2009-06-15T16:57:00.000-07:00

6/14

The ranger’s advice turned out to be excellent, and after stopping at the UFO museum in Roswell (which I found fascinating), we took a road west to a town called Carrizozo. This particular route turned out to be one of my favorites on the trip thus far. It was curvy, scenic, and free of traffic. We could go as fast as we wanted and did to beat the afternoon thunderstorms that spotted the otherwise sunny, blue sky. The storm clouds were like giant, gray jellyfish dragging their rainy tentacles throughout the vast blue ocean sky.

Just east of Carrizozo we realized that the storm we could see brewing in the distance was headed strait for our destination. I felt a bit like a storm chaser as Alex and I raced towards the dark clouds and bright flashes of lightning trying to reach shelter before we were consumed in the downpour.

We rolled into town just moments before the beast unleashed its watery fury and we found refuge under the awning of a local diner/restaurant. We went inside and left the bikes to endure the nearly horizontal rain that didn’t seem to mind the awning above. We ordered a basket of ships and salsa and sat down at the diner bar to relax and write a bit. The lady who was running the show from behind the counter was a riot, telling us that everything we ordered cost $92.50.

After the storm had passed and we had had our fill of chips, we got back on the road and headed north to Santa Fe were we hoped to camp in the national forest. As we rode, we realized the fortune of our route and timing which took us right between two storms that were sweeping across from the southwest. We rode the tail of the lead storm and eluded the trailer staying dry until we entered sunshine to the north.

At the crossroads between Albuquerque and Santa Fe we stopped at a gas station to fill up. With clouds spotted across the sky to the north, we realized that pressing on to SFNF meant a strong risk for a wet night of camping so we began to explore other options. Alex began collecting the names and contact information of Taylor alum living in the area from the alumni directory while I tried, unsuccessfully, to reach a friend that lived in Albuquerque.

Alex started by calling the most recent grads on the list and had no luck with the first few. Finally, on the third or fourth try he got a person.

While the family didn’t feel comfortable hosting strangers in their house, they did graciously offer to put us up for the night at LifeWay Glorieta Conference Center near Santa Fe. We thankfully accepted, put on all of our jackets, and headed off to a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. The swing in temperature during on day’s travel in New Mexico was unbelievable. Now at 7000ft and approaching sunset, the air was very cool. We arrived in Santa Fe after dark with the trip odometer reading 4741 miles.

Guadalupe NP- clear air

2009-06-14T15:43:00.000-07:00

6/13

After a wash in Amistad’s clear, cool waters (we needed it), we packed up and headed west towards El Paso.

The road west through the desert was hot and there was nearly no traffic. I probably could have lie down and taken a nap in the middle of the lane. At around noon dark storm clouds passed just to the north of us cooling off the air, and we stopped to watch the lightning show.

Back on the road again, the air started to warm, and I noticed what seemed to be small fires spotted across the desert plains to my right and left. They seemed to sprout up and then extinguish only moments later. I soon realized that they were not fires at all, but were instead little dirt cyclones formed by the mixing of the warm and cool air following the rain storm.

As we headed west, mountains grew up around us. Prior to this ride, I didn’t think Texas even had mountains. It wasn’t long before the outline of Capitan (a mountain in Guadalupe NP) was visible on the horizon. Another surprise in an arid, dry desert was the roadside flood gauges the showed up every few miles. It must have been a joke because I just used them as reminders to sip water from my camelback to prevent dehydration.

We arrived at Guadalupe with the trip odometer reading 4356 miles just before the visitor’s center closed which turned out to be a blessing and a curse. We were given great advice as far as a trail and a camping spot for the night, but we paid $5 bucks each for it.

Alex and I don’t use traditional motorcycle luggage for carrying our stuff. We knew that we would be hiking with backpacks often on the trip so we just filled our packs and bungee corded them to our bikes like a passenger. After unloading the gear we didn’t need, repacking light for one night of camping, and covering our bikes, we were about to head up the mountain when we were informed by a park ranger that we needed to move to a different parking spot for the night. Fortunately, he let us throw all of our unpacked, loose gear that we had so meticulously balanced and strapped on our bikes for the night into the back of his pickup and follow him to the overnight parking spot. This setback wasn’t’ more than a little frustration and loss of light, and before long Alex and I were on the trail to the Guadalupe Peak campsites.

On the way to the top Alex and I cleared the air on some backyard conflict that had been brewing over the past few days. (Backyard- meaning it hadn’t been verbally acknowledged or addressed, but we could just both feel tension.) It is so good to have a friend like Alex who will be honest with me about his feelings, and I do my best to reciprocate. The issue boiled down to decision making styles. Each day Alex and I trade off the responsibility of leading. We discuss and consider one another’s input in various decisions throughout the day, but the final decision rests with the leader’s judgment. This has been not only an efficient way to get from point A to point B, but has taught us much about leading and following.

As with most conversations of this type, one issue led to another and we were able to refresh on a lot.

The hike to camp was beautiful and we watched the sun set over the range. After an evening feast of summer sausage and granola bars, we hit the sack. In the morning, we packed up quickly and hit the trail hoping to reach the summit before the heat. On the way up, we passed a heard of mountain rams as well as some white tailed deer.

The view from almost 9,000 feet was beautiful. The surrounding areas were tiny in comparison to the peak we were on. The mountains we had passed on our route from the south east we mere hills marked now only by the shadows cast by the rising sun. The land seemed to be viewed from an airplane.
We took a few pictures and then began our descent. Near the bottom we passed a park ranger that was on his way up (getting paid to do what we were doing). He gave us some suggestions on our route through New Mexico. We have had mixed results with local advice, but he seemed trustworthy, and we set out towards Roswell.

Amistad- bug goo and dead ends

2009-06-13T15:40:00.000-07:00

6/12

We left Austin around 6:00pm and headed south towards the Rio Grande. It was nice to ride in the cooler evening air, but soon we were riding in the dark solitude of desert roads. Here we encountered a new phenomenon: bugs. Now I’m sure we had met thousands of little insects in head on collisions over the past few weeks, but now it felt like millions. Keeping with Texan style, they were huge and exploded their yellow guts everywhere. There were a few times it felt like a baseball had collided with my shin or knee at 80mph.

At around 12:30am we arrived at the Amistad visitor’s center which was long closed. We grabbed a map from the rack near the front door and huddled around the glow of my headlight contemplating our landing for the night. Lake Amistad is a reservoir that had been formed by a dam built on the Rio Grande, and it is half in Mexico and half in the United States. We selected what we felt would be a suitable spot and set out to make camp.

I don’t know if we made a wrong turn or what, but after 15 minutes of driving in the shroud of darkness passed a little green sign that simple read: “Mexico.” I slowed down a bit, looked at Alex, shrugged my shoulders, he nodded his head and we continued cautiously down the road. Only a few minutes passed before we could see a structure ahead illuminated only by our headlights. We pulled up to a large steel gate with a big read “STOP” sign affixed to the center. To the right and to the left were tall metal fences stretching in both directions and fading into the darkness.

Were we at the Mexican border? We got out the map and checked again. It didn’t seem right, but one thing seemed certain, we were not supposed to travel any further on the road we were on. My friend Christian once told me that you can fix anything if you are willing to buy the part twice. Alex believes that driving incorporates the same theory. You can get anywhere if you are willing to do a few U-turns along the way. We did a one-eighty and returned to the road we were certain of and chose a new camping location further west.

Our destination led us down another side road where we encountered many deer along the way (30+) as well as an armadillo. While this time the road didn’t lead us to a huge metal gate and have us wishing our Spanish skills were major, it did dead end- this time in water. No problem, we found a nice, sandy spot on the shore to set up the tent and get some rest. This was the second time on the trip when we were lulled to sleep by lapping waves (Lake Ontario).

When we finally shut down the bikes for the night the trip odometer read 4002 miles.

In the morning we were able to discover what was surrounding us in the night. The water was clear and looked to be several feet high- explaining the road that suddenly ended in the lake.

Austin- keep it weird

2009-06-13T01:23:00.000-07:00

6/11

Alex and I arrived in Austin with the trip odometer reading 3732 miles.

On our way in we stopped to visit a friend and fellow lacrosse teammate, Timmy, who lives just north of the city. We had heard of this year’s thrilling NCAA men’s national championship lacrosse game between Cornell and Syracuse, but hadn’t had the opportunity to see it. The three of us sat on his futon and watched the final five minutes and ensuing overtime on ESPN 360. It is an incredible finish!

Austin is a creative city. It claims to be the live music capitol of the world. While I can't confirm this, it does feel like a less produced Nashville. The city's tag line: "Keep Austin Weird," reflects well the people who live there as they try their best to maintain the mission.

My and Alex’s first visit to Austin came last April when we spent four days volunteering at the Q Conference which was hosted in the historical Paramount Theatre downtown. While at the conference, we made friends with a fellow volunteer, David, a self-proclaimed third-generation Austinite. David, who regularly refers to Alex and me as corn-fed flat bellies, is an artist, designer, filmmaker, and church planter. He and his wife, Veronica, have had the opportunity to plant several churches throughout the years and are now involved in a church plant, Soli Deo Gloria, located in the east Austin neighborhood where they grew up.

That night, over diner, with a nasty storm brewing outside, we were able to hear a bit of David’s story and his heart for the East Austin community. David is a visionary and a creator, but despite his many talents he possesses a beautiful a spirit of humility.

After a great night’s rest in Casa Del Suenos, House of Dreams, the affectionate name for his unique Austin homestead, we woke for some breakfast and a brief tour of East Austin. East Austin is an eclectic, diverse and creative part of the city consisting of Latinos, Blacks, socially-conscious urbanites, the poor, the Spanish speaking immigrant, young college students and everything in between. David comically explained the challenges of doing multi-cultural ministry (mostly in terms of what doesn’t work). Soli Deo Gloria is training indigenous leaders to reach a diverse city.

After taking the morning and early afternoon to relax, Alex and I joined David on the golf course for a very hot nine-hole round. Unfortunately for me, the temperature didn’t seem to warm up my game which turned out to be a complete embarrassment. Regardless, we had fun.

Don’t Mess with Texas

2009-06-12T21:09:00.000-07:00

Texans are proud of Texas.

Word on the street is: “81% of Texans believe in Heaven. 92% believe they’re already there.”

They love their state; so much so that I might as well say: they love their country. And if they had it their way they would probably secede. The current Texan state flag, which is not only flown everywhere but is also incorporated into nearly every local Texan business logo, is the one that was used during their time as an independent republic. Driving through Texas often felt like another country. The roads are wide, and drivers pull their huge trucks onto the shoulder as an act of courtesy allowing you to pass (this is definitely not the east coast).

Longview- a long view on the Natchez Trace

2009-06-12T11:45:00.001-07:00

6/10

Alex and I set out eastward from Memphis, a discouraging direction considering our final destination was west. We had heard, however, that the Natchez Trace Parkway would provide a nice break from the interstate as we headed south west. The old trail, which is now paved, runs between Nashville and Natchez. We jumped on the trail in Tupelo, Mississippi (I love spelling that word) and got off in Jackson. The route, which is only available to non-commercial traffic and has no stops, was enjoyable.

Alex is training to run a mini-marathon later in the summer with his dad, and we took a break for a short run on a trail just off of the parkway. In the brutality of the mid-day heat and on the path of one of the only major hills we encountered on the entire parkway, it was tough. We rode the next 30 or so miles in our running clothes to dry off.

After a long, hot, flat, strait, ride through Louisiana we finally arrived in Longview, TX with the trip odometer reading 3410 miles exhausted after a 12 hour day of riding. When we finally pulled into the driveway of our hosts house we were warmly greeted by the most joyful little girl. Allie bravely ran to us as we unleaded our bags and began to shower us with questions that carried on with a series of "why?"s. I realized that if it was still acceptable to respond to most dialogue with the question "why?", I probably would. All of my other questions are elongated versions of the simple inquisitive question.

The Martinez family was a joy to be around. We shared a Texan sized meal together and heard about the phenomenon of Texas High School Athletics. 15,000 fans pack their stadiums to watch a high school football game!

We left Longview in the morning laughing. As we were packing up Allie sat on my bike fascinated by the horn. She must have pressed the button 20 times giggling every time. The neighbors were probably about ready to come over and enforce Texan law on us.

Memphis- multi-cultural DNA

2009-06-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

6/9

We arrived in Memphis with the trip odometer reading 2870 miles.

After many nights staying primarily with families, it was good to be back in what felt a little bit like a dorm. Our host for the night were four college aged guys who were current or past participants in a discipleship program called Downline Ministries. They lived together in a house located in the Bing Hampton district of Memphis and were also in some capacity associated with Fellowship Memphis an intentionally multi-cultural church located in the community.

Upon arrival, we cleaned off the road grime and then went out for some Memphis BBQ with Richard and Justin, two guys from the house. They shared about their experiences going through the Downline discipleship program. While their stories were different, it was clear that God had used the program to impact their lives not only to foster growth in their charecter but also to develop a desire to make the great commision a constant part of their lives.

Later, we went on a tour of the city. Memphis has a deep history of racial tension. It was used by Harriet Tubman as a hub along the underground railroad and was also the setting to the assasination of Dr. King. These roots result in a tension that seems to be ingrained into the city. Fellowship Memphis is working to break down these walls and the church's leadership has taken on the difficult but they believe necessary task of doing multi-cultural church . Check out their explination of the church's DNA here.

Alex and I left for Texas early in the morning with full tanks thanks to a generous gift by one of our new friends in the house.

Nashville- west on “the snake”

2009-06-08T12:07:00.000-07:00

6/8

We left Durham early in the morning looking forward to our longest single drive of the trip. On the road to Nashville, we took a detour north for two reasons. First, to ride Highway 421 “The Snake,” a beautiful stretch of curvy, twisty, hairpin, mountain, motorcycle madness. Second, to fish the South Holston River a gem of east coast fly fishing. The snake’s venom must have poisoned our fish brains because I must admit that we were skunked and left with no trout on our line.

We arrived in Nashville with the trip odometer reading 2662 miles.

We were finally heading west, and as a hint of what is sure to come we began to feel the heat. Hydration is our new hobby and we drink water religiously. This ride along with the next few will long and hot. In just a week, we will be in Colorado having rode through Tennessee and Texas, two wide states.

Our host in Nashville was a pleasant surprise. You never quite know what you’re going to get when you roll up to the hope of someone you have never met. Kirk took Alex and me in on short notice after one phone call two days earlier. He is a kindergarten teacher in the Nashville Public School System, specializes in ELL/ESL teaching, is fit, and yes ladies, he is single. Email me for further info.

It was great to hang out with Kirk. We grilled burgers, sat on the front porch, and gained some insight into the City Public Schools. He shared about his experience in teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) students. In particular, he noted the good behavior and high level of respect of his ESL students. “They want to be in school, and they want to learn.”

The following morning, Alex and I met up with a friend of mine from home who has spent the last few summers in Nashville working at a place called Rocketown. Rocketown is a faith based youth center, coffee house, music venue, and skate park that ministers to the kids of Nashville. Alex, who loves to skate and loves the church, was drooling over what seemed to be a great combination of the two.

Durham - Home Sweet Home

2009-06-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

6/6

We arrived in Durham with the trip Odometer reading 2034.

After breaking out of the miserable grip of D.C. traffic we exploited our freedom on 1-85 South averaging at least 10 miles over the speed limit for the whole trip. Kyle says, "The interstate owed it to us", implying that after forcing us to travel 60 miles in 4.5 hours we should be able to travel 240 miles in 3 hours; which we almost accomplished.

When we arrived to Durham we were greeted by my mom, who opened the doors to the sounds of our bikes rolling in the driveway, later in the evening the whole clan showed up. It was wonderful to see the whole family, which has grown from 5 people to a current 10 with a baby on the way this month. I could not help but be excited by the family time when I realized that Alyse would further expand our family from 11 to 12 coming this September.

After the party with the family Kyle and I had to start packing our bags to leave the next morning. The stop was way to quick and not what Kyle and I were expecting for a relaxing stop at my house, but the road was calling our name. So the next morning we got up and Kyle started looking for directions as I sulked over my cereal bowl. Than I hear him call my name from the study and announce that we have a whole extra day in Durham! At this news my mom started screaming hysterically, as I tried to decipher is Kyle was playing a mean trick or being serious. It was perfect, we were blessed by our own scheduling mistake with a whole extra day in Durham.

Fredericksburg- living the dream

2009-06-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

6/5

We arrived in Fredericksburg with the trip odometer reading 1827 miles.

After a terrible test of patience sitting in the exodus of Friday’s “mixing bowl” traffic, we made it safely to Fredericksburg. Our trip so far has been an excellent mix of meeting and making new friends as well as visiting old ones.

Our hosts in Fredericksburg, Micah and his wife Asher, are friends from Taylor. Drew and his wife Danielle, also friends from Taylor, live close by and came out to visit us. I lived with Drew and Micah for two years before they graduated, got married, started grad school and started living off of their sugar mommas! What we like to call living the dream!

This is just one of the many characteristics that I aspire to. They have always been big brother type friends and I have looked up to them for many years. It was a joy to be around them and their families.

When drew sends me the picture we all took together. I will post it here. He loves the publicity, so I don’t imagine it will be long before you can see the family.

DC- Macedonian diplomats and traffic games

2009-06-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

6/4

We arrived in DC with the trip odometer reading 1767 miles.

We landed in town a bit ahead of schedule, a rarity for us, and took some time to dry off and relax with a fresh cup of coffee at a Jamaican Café just around the block from our hosts’ home. These breaks are necessary for Alex and I to just catch up on life, and what’s going on apart from our hosts. Like any relationship (or motorcycle), our friendship needs regular maintenance.

Don and Angela, our hosts for the night, were a unique couple (and a ton of fun to be around). Angela is originally from Serbia and is a lawyer for an international law firm in the city. She is currently working on projects surrounding the legalities of the exchange of “virtual” currency. From what she tells me, I need to start a virtual business selling virtual motorcycles to virtual people in virtual worlds like Second Life. (Sounds crazy to me.) Don is a graphic designer for a very interesting organization called the Institute for Justice (sounds like the Justice League). They are a Libertarian organization that sues the government. Nice right. My friend Amy would like them.

Don and Angela took us out for pizza and drinks at a favorite local restaurant. They know the owner (through some connections in the Serbian/Macedonian embassy), and before long the owner was at our table joined by a Macedonian diplomat named Zorro. Zorro was a big jovial fellow who enjoyed hearing about our trip and encouraged us to continue the trip to Europe. I am seriously considering it.

Before long, our group had separated into an English speaking group (Don, Alex, and I) and another with an eastern European language I wanted to, but couldn’t, understand.

In the morning, Alex and I took the Metro to downtown and did the tourist walk trough the Mall. We returned, packed up, and left for Fredericksburg hoping to beat the traffic with a tip that had been recommended to us by a local. We must ask the wrong locals because as with most of the driving advice we have received, this one returned the usual terrible result as it took us 5 hours to drive the 60 miles to Fredericksburg.

Alex and I invented games to keep ourselves occupied in the sluggish traffic. One game in particular… the objective is to go as long as possible without touching the ground with your feet. We have developed various tactics to keep the bikes upright in slow to standstill traffic. Hopefully the acquired skills will come in handy down the road.

Help

2009-06-03T23:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

If you have been reading the blog, you know that Alex and I are enjoying our time on the open road. We have seen much, met many, and tried our best to share the stories along the way. We are very thankful for your continued support through hosting, prayer, and encouraging emails. I am writing to ask for your help in yet another way.

As you surely know by now, Alex will be getting married in the fall. Alyse, Alex's beautiful fiance, would love to surprise Alex for a visit during our time in Yosemite NP next week. The flight from Chicago (where Alyse is) to Fresno is quite expensive ($400), and I would like to give her some assistance. If you would like to help out, I have included a link to donate money via Paypal to help send Alyse to Yosemite. Donations of $5-10 are great! I will collect the money and give it to Alyse. Any money over the price of the ticket will be donated to World Vision.

Please Note: This is a SURPRISE to Alex, so please don't mention it to him in any way, shape, or form.

Thanks,

Kyle

Street, MD- serious man points

2009-06-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

6/2

Alex and I arrived in Street, MD with the trip odometer reading 1670 miles.

The drive through Delaware was monotonous, but at the crossing into Maryland, the strip malls and stoplights disappeared and rolling hills with banked turns filled their void. Best of all, the sun was finally out.

The Harkin’s farm was a sight for eyes sore from days in the city. Mrs. Harkins greeted us in the driveway with what I call mama’s hugs, helped us carry in our bags, and set us down with food and drink. A nurse by trade, she properly cleaned and bandaged my cut and saw to it that I had the necessary supplies to make a full recovery.

It wasn’t long before our friend Jared was home from work and we headed to the river with his brothers to swim.

Time with Jared is all about “Man Points” which are garnered through participating in certain displays of masculine behavior. Catching fish, shooting things, riding in trucks, splitting logs, wearing a tool belt, etc.
The following day we went fly fishing and honorable opportunity for man points.

Here is a sequence of pictures showing Jared pouting over losing a trout. Negative man points!

Camden- backyard carnivals and cells of hope

2009-06-02T20:47:00.000-07:00

6/1

We arrived in Camden with the trip odometer reading 1551 miles and without any other trouble apart from me noticing that my handlebars were a bit crooked (a problem that would be dealt with at a later time.)

Our hosts for the night, Nate and Jen, lived with their two children and dog Linford in Gloucester City just south of Camden, NJ. We drove down their street and found their home to be the one where all of the neighborhood kids had gathered to hand out on their stoop… a good sign!

We met the family and were immediately sent out with Nate to pick up Philly Cheesesteaks for diner… awesome!

Nate, a Taylor grad, grew up in Camden and returned to the area after college taking a youth pastor position in a church in the burbs. There he met his wife Jen and they stayed for five years before deciding to move. With little idea where they were going, God led them to GC where they became involved in a church, Circle of Hope. Nate is now a pastor of one of Circle of Hope’s three congregations.

Circle of Hope is made up of cells, house churches of sorts, spread out throughout the city. Each cell has a cell leader and an apprentice. When the cell reaches about ten members it splits and the apprentice takes a cell and finds a new apprentice. Thus, the system multiplies and grows. About 10-20 cells make up a congregation which meets once a week like a traditional church. The core of the body is the cells, though which gives the “church” organic roots.

As we finished the excellent cheesesteaks, Nate called us into the kitchen where he was standing to check out what was happening in the backyard. The urgency in his voice had me expecting to witness a crime when I looked out the window. Instead, to their and my surprise, a giant “Star Walk” was being inflated in their neighbor’s backyard covering the entirety of the small plot of fenced in grass.

In no time, we left the food for the backyard carnival. I cursed my arm for preventing me from joining in the fun. It was a great source of joy for the neighborhood.

As I listened to Nate and Jen talk about Camden, it was clear that living where they did was not an exotic experiment. It was just life in a place where God had placed them. There were fears and joys daily, but they were living in humility and obedience. I hope that I will do the same as it was a joy to be around them.

White Castle Refuge and a New Trip Tattoo

2009-06-01T20:20:00.000-07:00

6/1

We left New York with content stomachs. But remember the importance of fasting in developing a sharp mind because on the recommendation of a local we abandoned the interstate for highway 1/9. We quickly realized the fault in this decision as we were consumed in an endless wave of stop and go, red and green, industrial traffic.

On several of the many stops, I put my foot down to notice a slick, oily film striping the center of the lane. Alex and I disregarded this as something we had little control over and continued down our route. I regret this perseverance however, because not many miles down the road I fell prey to the circumstances. While we were on the correct road and traveling in the right direction, we were becoming impatient. I attempted to switch lanes from the right lane to the left lane in heavy traffic when the trailerless semi in front of me hit its brakes forcefully. I followed with my brakes but met the pavement when I hit an oil spot with a partially turned front wheel with was initiating my lane change. My front wheel turned sharply to the left on the icy surface and the bike went down hard.

It happened so fast. I just remember laying there in disbelief for half a second before wriggling my left leg out from under the still running motorbike. I hit the red kill switch and began to assess the situation. The shattering of the windshield in the fall frightened me, and I feared that the bike might be badly maimed. I was afraid that I had just ended the trip. By this time Alex was off his bike and helped me pick up the broken bike from the pavement. All other traffic continued as if nothing had happened passing on the right and the left.

With the bike upright I hit the ignition… nothing! Again… nothing. At this time adrenaline was pumping as I started to panic a bit. I then remembered the kill switch that I had used only a minute earlier to stop the bike. With the switch reversed, the bike roared to like and we drove up a block to find refuge in a White Castle parking lot.

By this time some of the initial adrenaline was warring off and I noticed my left sleeve seemed a bit wet. I removed my jacket to find a nice cut on my left elbow. Alex went inside to grab a few burger buns to soak up the blood. Not quite but he did bring out a cloth that had probably been used to soak up grease and was surely teeming with hepatitis.

At the time it seemed fine though, and we used it to control the bleeding. Alex dug in the med kit and found some antiseptic wipes and butterflies. In not time the wound was clean and dressed.

I checked the bike and found no major damages. Apart from the broken windshield (which we were able to patch with some duct tape), some minor scratching, and a small tear in the seat, the bike seemed to be mechanically sound.

With everything back in order, I had Alex take out the video camera and record a few of the events. We then jumped back on the bikes and set out for Camden, NJ. I now had a new trip tattoo.

New York- food, the fifth love language

2009-05-30T12:03:00.000-07:00

5/29

We arrived in Nyack, NY with the trip odometer reading 1424 miles.

Our hosts near the Big Apple were the McCaffrey's. Quentin McCaffrey was my roommate sophomore year, and his family opened their house up to us for three nights. Our time there was marked by relaxing mornings spent journaling and reading, trips into the city and dinners with the McCaffrey clan. Quentin took us on into the city two days in a row, which was fantastic because we learned in Boston that it is imperative to tour a big city accompanied by a local. The first day we toured around, and he treated us to a viewing of the new Star Trek film in a big theatre downtown; it seemed appropriate to catch a movie downtown, and it was also the relaxing activity that we needed at the time. On Sunday, we had the opportunity to visit Redeemer Presbyterian, a church pastured by Tim Keller with several locations downtown. The thing that struck me most about pastor Keller was his humility. He has gained a reputation through his books (The Reason For God; Ministries of Mercy; The Prodigal God; etc...), but in his preaching he did not act like people should know who he was and his speaking was not phenomenal, but God is blessing the ministry of Redeemer Presbyterian as they humbly approach God and ask how to best serve Him in the city.

I have been hearing about New York's food for years, but I always thought that Quentin had a superiority complex about his home food. I must admit my poor assumption as even the bagels in New York were better. On Sunday morning Quentin brought Kyle and I to a bakery, but the word bakery is such an understatement to the bread production that was happening there. This bakery was the "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" equivalent for bread. We walked around and picked hot bagels straight out of the oven. He also shared New York pizza with us and his family provided some incredible meals as well. Kyle joked that if food was a love language, it was Quentin’s, and that Kyle was feeling a lot of love during our stay.

Boston- “They’re from Taylor. It will be fine.”

2009-05-29T07:34:00.000-07:00

5/27

We arrived in Beantown with the trip odometer reading 1195 miles.

After a long wet ride to Boston, we were looking forward to some dry space. Fortunately for us, our friend Ben (TU grad now BU law student) was watching a vacant apartment for a friend who was away for the summer. Void of any amenities, it allowed us to spread out our stuff to dry and make a few beds for the night.

Ben had just finished final exams for his first year of law school and couldn’t remember the last time he had slept. Despite this handicap, he was surprisingly talkative and took us on a tour (search for food) of his neighborhood. The search was unsuccessful as everything closed earlier due to college summer break. It was no problem for us though, we returned to the apartment and cooked up a feast of frozen chicken nuggets and leftover camp food. Ben even treated us with some Neapolitan ice cream he found in the freezer.

Our early arrival in Boston gave Alex and I the opportunity to spend the day exploring the city. As one of the United State’s oldest major cities, Boston’s architecture is fantastic, and there are many historical sights to see. We jumped on the tourist train and followed the freedom trail throughout the city. The stops along the way were somewhat interesting but neither of us were much in the mood to learn historical facts and figures. Regardless, it felt good to get out, walk around, and listen to people. We made it a game to find the most Boston accent possible. I think Good Will Hunting set my expectations too high, and we finished the tour largely disappointed.

We spent a second night in the city with Taylor, Elizabeth, and their very affectionate dog Harry. Their fourth story apartment was situated in a beautiful section of the arts district where they were both within walking distance of work. Taylor, a graduate of Taylor University, met his wife, Elizabeth, while they were both completing graduate degrees at the New England Conservatory. They were the first professional opera singers that I had ever met.

We were extra thankful for their generous hospitality. They opened their home to us on very short notice and with very little connection. It was funny to hear Elizabeth recall of her initial reaction a few days earlier when Taylor explained that they would be hosting two strange motorcycle riders on a trip across the country.

“How do you know them?” she questioned.
“I don’t… but they’re from Taylor. It will be fine.”

The Wet Ride to Boston- we are not as tough as we look

2009-05-28T08:16:00.000-07:00

5/27

We left the majesty of the High Peaks and headed east toward Lake Champaign hoping to encounter a dry Vermont. Vermont came, but the rain didn’t stop. It wasn’t long before our “rain gear” designed for hiking gave way and was saturated with the 50mph water bullets. Shortly after, our boots gave way to the flood, and we found refuge in a small mountain town diner called Helen’s Place. Helen was in the back kitchen when we walked in and sat down at the long bar. Her daughter brought us out some beef stew, and didn’t seem to mind the small pools of water accumulating under our stools. We downed what was in front of us and spent the next couple of hours drinking coffee, drying, writing, and observing the interactions taking place around us.

Helen came from a family of 12 and had 7 sisters. At least two stopped by while we were in the diner. The local food supply man also stopped by and Helen negotiated prices with him from her post in the kitchen. Produce prices would dictate what she would bye and thus what she would make. The menu was flexible.

Back in the rain we decided to press east hoping to emerge into sun. Vermont’s landscape was beautiful, but difficult to appreciate in the downpour. Every few miles a pungent stench would fill my helmet at the arrival of a dairy farm. We stopped in Montpelier and received the dreaded report that the rain was blanketing the north east. We abandoned our initial hopes to camp near Mt. Washington in NH. We needed shelter for the night.

A quick phone call to a Taylor friend who was in law school at Boston University and we had a place. Against our better judgment we got back on the interstate for the three hour wet drive to Boston. Although it was a bit scary at times, God was merciful and we arrived in Beantown looking like a couple of mangy dudes.

I walked around the block looking for a place to park for the night and made a surprising discovery. People were avoiding my path on the sidewalk. I wish I had a picture because I must have looked horrific. I was dressed in all black, with a leather jacket and black leather gloves. I was dripping wet, my face was unshaven, my eyes bloodshot, and my hair matted into peaks and valleys from my helmet. If you know me, I’m not a tough guy, but for a moment I felt like getting a big tattoo.

Adirondacks- a wet night

2009-05-27T07:37:00.000-07:00

5/26

We arrived in the Adirondacks with the trip odometer 870 miles. Our entrance into the mountains was the biggest change in scenery that we had experienced on the trip, and we were ready for it after a long and cold ride through Canada. The weather warmed up, the roads emptied, and the woods closed in around the now curvy highways; all these things combined equals ideal motorcycle riding. I quickly learned that ideal motorcycle riding does not mix with traffic laws. Kyle and I were cruising around a bend when an oncoming police car appeared and flicked on his lights. I immediately thought that we were going to sacrifice our food budget for the first month, but the officer must have been in a good mood because he turned off his lights and kept on going. We were both overjoyed in our good fortune, but hope we haven’t wasted all our luck in the first national park.

Just up the road, we passed a sign with small font, but the words “trout fishing” burned brightly. I hit the brakes and pulled a U-turn. Kyle, who had seen the sign too didn’t need much to interpret my non-verbal communication. Five, maybe ten minutes later, I had a fly on my rod and I was wading into the roadside stream. Kyle was gracious enough to allow me to fish while he endured the biting black flies that were all over the river. I hooked one, but failed to land, so we moved on.

Shortly after, we passed through Lake Placid, a quaint mountain town and home to the several Winter Games. With fish still on the brain we stopped at a fly shop and got the official report on what the fish were biting. After a few hours of fishing the West Au Sable, we parked our bikes and hiked up to the peak of Mt. Jo in the dark. We tried to ignore the bear warnings that were posted periodically along the trail.

When we reached the summit we were greeted by the High Peaks surrounding us in the moonlight. Mt. Jo was rocky, but we found a relatively flat slab on which we laid our pads and bags. After cooking up a hot meal of rice, we hit the sack for what we hoped would be a peaceful night.

In case you didn’t get to see the videos… At about 2:30am, I woke to drops of rain hitting my face. I looked over at Kyle who had made the disappointing realization as well. The rain was light, but we had a decision to make: Pack up and head down the mountain looking for shelter or set up the rain fly. Under the sleep spell, we chose the later and stayed decently dry through the morning when we found a break in the rain to pack up and start our decent.

Lake Ontario- a tent by the water

2009-05-26T06:44:00.000-07:00

5/25

After a day of bombing the interstate and navigating a busy Toronto, Alex and I made camp near the tranquil waters of Lake Ontario at Presqu’lle Provincial Park just west of Kingston, Ontario. The trip odometer read 545 miles, and we were ready for some rest and relaxation. We found a vacant site near the water’s edge, which was not difficult because the entire park was nearly empty apart from a friendly elderly couple who passed by on a foot trail, and set up camp.

Alex used his man skills to build a fire out of wet timber while I pitched the tent. We wasted little time and cooked the little frozen (and now not so frozen) pizzas that had been strapped to our bikes since crossing the border over the open flames. Soon we were sitting down on the rocky shore eating our tasty treats, skipping stones, and watching the sun set. Not bad.

We woke up early and got out of Dodge to avoid any fees that we may or may not have been aware of. From there, our next destination was the High Peaks of the Adirondack Mountains, a place we have heard much about through friends who have spent summers working at Deerfoot Lodge. On the way east to the land of the red, white, and blue we stopped at a good ol' country diner for some eggs, toast, journaling, and chatting with the locals. This is a favorite time of the day for me, and everyone seems to be interested in our little journey. It's fun to listen to their recommendations for spots nearby that we cannot miss.

Detroit- a city of stark contrast

2009-05-25T15:39:00.000-07:00

5/24

We arrived in Detroit with the trip odometer reading approximately 230 miles. The drive was smooth and it felt good to put some miles behind us.

Much thanks to the Hochhalters for hosting us. Eric Hochhalter is a friend from Taylor, and his family lives in Grosse Point, a suburb just north of the city. Bryan, Eric's dad, pastors a church called Grace Community on the border between Detroit and Grosse Point. In the morning he took us on a tour of the city to show us the extremes.

We took a route from Grosse Point along the lake passing by some serious wealth. And then with the crossing of a particular street that served a a dividing line, everything changed. Now liquor stores and nail salons replaced the mansions. Picture windows were now broken and boarded up. Bryan also explained the problem of arson and showed us entire city blocks where only charred skeletons remained.

How could such gleam and dullness exist side-by-side? And how does Grace, a church serving both communities, minister to the contrast and encourage a reconciliation between the rich and the poor? The church is a place of common ground, where a a "mosaic of people" can seek Jesus together. Bryan explained that while the church is seeking to practically meet physical needs through a variety of avenues, he feels the need to preach the central gospel message. Rich and poor alike need Jesus.

While the city seems to be in economic despair, I am told that there have been recent signs of hopeful growth. Businesses are starting up and people are relocating to the city.

Alex and I left for Canada in the late morning and had an eventful time crossing the border. Check out Alex's story...

Kyle's First Adventure

2009-05-25T04:59:00.000-07:00

Kyle took his first bike adventure at age 3.

I was pregnant with his sister Kara. It was a late spring day, probably in mid-April. Kara was due in a few weeks, and I was feeling "great with child." By mid-afternoon, I felt I just couldn't make it through the rest of the day without a nap. I gathered a few books and puzzles, hoping to keep Kyle busy for an hour while I took a quick nap. I plunked him on the bed beside me and firmly told him to stay put while Mommy rested. If he moved, I'd wake up. It's the nature of a mom, right? Wrong! I awoke an hour or so later to the ringing of the phone. It was a neighbor mom calling. Did I know Kyle had just peddled a quarter of a mile down our county road on his little red tricycle to deliver a birthday gift to his best buddy, Jessi?

So began Kyle's love affair with adventure. He was "wild at heart" from the beginning of his boyhood. From there he advanced to building L'ego sets designed for kids much older than himself (without reading the directions!), making complicated "traps" out of string in his room, constructing zip lines from backyard trees, and shooting bow and arrows at targets and BB guns at birds. His first 2-wheel bicycle was a heavy duty monster that took him a while to master, but soon he was off and racing down the country road in front of our house in search of adventure. He soon moved on to roller skates, skateboards, and rollerblades for which his dad built a ramp to make this new adventure more exciting! His final adventure on wheels before his first car was a go cart. It was as much fun on ice and snow as it was on the paved parking lots of the elementary school. He and Kara burned holes in the bottom of multiple plastic saucers pulled behind the beast before he finally outgrew it and moved onto to his first Honda, a car.

That '91 Honda took him on many further adventures down the road in high school to footballs in neighboring counties, Cedar Point Amuzement Park in Ohio, Olivett College to visit friends (IL), Holland, MI (via Gary, IN...oops!), and multiple trips to Chicago. When that little beige beauty gave out during his freshman year in college, he travelled on foot and by bicycle, doing triathalons and the Chicago Marathon. He travelled to Greece, Italy, and El Salvador to study and volunteer in ministry. He skiied in Colorado. He spent the summer in South Africa working for Youth for Christ, hiking through Namibia on a break from teaching English to 6th graders. He spent a summer biking with a club team while doing a research internship at the University of Notre Dame. He spent a January studying at Oxford. He landed only briefly in Upland to resume his college studies as required to complete his Engineering Physics degrees with additional studies in Economic Development.

Now his Honda is a bright yellow '95 Magna motorcycle. And another adventure begins.

Enjoy. Be safe. God speed.

Love and prayers as always,

Mom

Home- a slow start

2009-05-24T10:10:00.000-07:00

We had just finished an emotional send off prayer with the Holloway family, said our goodbyes, and mounted our bikes. With the video camera rolling, Kyle pressed the ignition button only to hear a "click" and helplessly watch as his control lights flicked off. After several failed attempts to get the bike going... panic started flooding in.

No worries, it was a simple battery issue (my bike had the same problem earlier) and we will be on the road shortly.

Empty and Fill

2009-05-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

Thank you for visiting our trip site. This website is intended to serve as a hub for communication before, during, and after the trip. As you look around, you will find information about us, what we are doing, and how you can be a part. As we draw near to the start, we will begin posting short journal entries to tell the story.

If you are a potential host, we would encourage you to contact us as soon as possible with your availability. Please check out our interactive map to view the present route. We will try to keep it up to date to include any time or route changes.

Departures

2009-05-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

In the last two days I have been packing, graduating, and saying goodbyes. It has been difficult to know that I have made Alyse (my fiancé) and my parents both cry before I go. The tears that are coming as a result of this departure are coming out of the care that our friends and family have for us. The phrase “I am so excited for you” and “Why do you have to go” can come out in the same breath. I love Alyse and my family so all of these things are making our departure harder than I expected, but I am excited to hit the road.

I stayed with my parents and my sister’s family last night and my nephew David loved my helmet. He wore it constantly and made sure to put fingerprints in places I did not even know could get fingerprints on them, but it was good to stay with them. I had the privilege of exerting physical superiority over my older sister, Laura, who thought she could dunk me in the pool.

The trip's beginning is starting to feel similar to Forrest Gump’s run across the country because when I was loading my bike this morning a random man riding by on a bicycle came up to me and said “Hey! I read about you in the paper,” He then asked a few questions about when we were leaving and where our first stop was and on his way off he shouted, “Now I can say I was the first to see you!” And with that, our trip begins.

Fake Graduation

2009-05-24T06:38:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was graduation… robes, funny hats, and a long sweaty ceremony. My friend Allie and I are not technically graduating until December of 2009. She is completing her student teaching in the fall, and I am traveling to Ecuador where I will be studying Spanish and taking a history class. We didn’t want to miss out on all of the festivities so we decided to fake graduate. We used our four years of top notch Taylor education to infiltrate the most sacred of all academic ceremonies... and graduated ahead of our time!

After months of planning… ha, yeah right! I borrowed a cap and gown, Allie wore my mom’s old gown from her master’s education, and we fit right in. We now had the appropriate attire, but we needed a place to sit. About ten minutes before the ceremony began, we convinced the maintenance guys, to set up two chairs in the front by the stage, where all of the grads would walk by on their march in.

It was perfect! We got to greet all of our friends, who were surprised to see us sporting the garb, as they walked to their seats. During the awarding of diplomas, Allie inserted my name (aloud from our seats) at the appropriate time with the engineering grads, and I returned the favor when her time came with the biology department. At the conclusion of commencement, we flipped our tassels, exchanged high fives, and exited with the rest of our class to pictures outside.

A Giving Spirit

2009-05-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

We live in a consumerist culture where goods are meant to be owned and a person’s possessions largely define who they are. I bought it, I own it, and I will guard it. If you want it, I will sell it to you, for the right price of course. Thus, the virtue of generosity is rare admits the sea of credit cards and advertisements. Instead of the possessive norm, generous persons recognize that they own nothing which they have not been given. A few days ago, I encountered an excellent example of giving spirit, and I wanted to share it.

I met Jerry unexpectedly at an event on Taylor’s campus. Each year one of the floors in the dorm where I live hosts a night called Tonight We Ride. They dress up in vintage motorcycle leather and have a party where you can come, put on some leather from the collection, take pictures on a bike, and enjoy a root beer keg. Jerry supplies the vintage leather collection (I’m talking hundreds of jackets) and generously allows students to wear what they like for the night. I had the opportunity to meet Jerry, who hangs out for the evening’s festivities, and told him a bit about the trip. He was enthusiastic, and invited me over to his house to check out the full collection. I headed over there this past weekend, and it was unbelievable! Beside an impressive collection of vintage motorcycle apparel, Jerry collects Fire Boots. He has a neat relationship with FDNY 10 House located near ground zero and has a pair of boots that were used during the 9/11 rescue. You can see pictures of his collection at www.classicboots.com.

Before I left, Jerry gifted me a jacket to use for the trip… for safety and style. It makes me look tougher than I am.

I hope that throughout my life, I can recognize the temporary nature of goods and develop a strong desire to share what I have around me.

What to Bring

2009-05-19T10:40:00.000-07:00

A lot of people make packing more difficult than it is. To some it’s an art. They spend hours meticulously selecting the items to carry in terms of lightness and efficiency. For them functionality is supreme. If it’s not necessary, it gets cut. These “ultra-lighters” as they’re affectionately called, cut their toothbrushes in half, get clothes tattooed on their bodies, and buy dehydrated water in an effort to shave ounces in their packs. The process requires a proficiency in particle physics and access to a graphing calculator.

To others packing is more like putting toothpaste back in the tube. The limited space for conveniences, the inability to predict what will be desired upon arrival, and the fear of forgetting something necessary makes the process a nightmare, and it’s all under the clock ticking down to departure. The bags usually resemble a pac-man figure (mouth open) and that’s even after hours of failed attempts to massage the blender into the suitcase without needing to sacrifice the kitchen sink. Moms who feel responsible for the success of the family vacation to Disney World usually fit into this category.

In an effort to reduce the packing woes, Alex and I went for a test run this past weekend to a local campground. After an hour or so of rearranging and stuffing, we each had two backpacks strapped to our motorbikes in a tangled mess of bungee cords. I couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous we looked. Here are the contents so far:

• Tent, sleeping bag, and pad
• Cook stove
• Fishing rod
• Some clothes
• Coin for split decisions
• Camera
• Journal and pen

Motorcycle Hypochondria

2009-05-09T12:11:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been showing signs of hypochondriasis, or more commonly, hypochondria, the excessive preoccupation or worry about having a serious illness. I get antsy just thinking about it; my knee starts bouncing and I grind my teeth. It is not my health, though, that I fear is failing, but rather I am constantly worried that my bike is going to go kaput.

I can just feel it. Every time I’m riding and the wind whistles the wrong way around my windshield or there is a faint new vibration under my right foot, I just know the bike dying. Then I start self-diagnosing. Did you feel that? That can’t be good. I bet it’s this. My friend Steve, the motorcycle mechanic, is gracious in dealing with my nagging questions. He kindly reaffirms in me that the bike is reliable and that while I am sure to have some trouble with the bike at some point throughout the trip, those events are unpredictable and unpreventable.

Alex on the other hand has no qualms about his bike; he is too busy worrying about what the fishing conditions will be like throughout the trip.

Trip Map

2009-04-05T11:57:00.001-07:00

Below is a map displaying our current trip route including the dates of our planned stops. We will will be updating the map regularly as we hear from potential hosts.

Zoom in and click on the blue balloons to find out more information about each location. If something needs adjusting let us know.

View Larger Map

About the Trip

2009-04-05T11:51:00.001-07:00

On May 23rd, 2009 Alex and I will be graduating from Taylor University.

On May 24th, we will be leaving for a 70 day motorcycle trip around the country.

Why?... to empty and fill.

Our trip idea was born out of dreams of adventure, motorcycles and the open road. Soon we will both be transitioning into something new, and it's time for us to hit the refresh button, asking God to take our plans as we offer our lives as a living sacrifice to him. Just as we will be emptying and filling our gas tanks along the way, we also desire to empty ourselves to God asking him to fill us with his love and wisdom. As we attempt to focus and dedicate ourselves to the Lord throughout this journey, we hope to interact with many people from different backgrounds who are willing to share about their lives and their communities with us.

We would love to see you… host us for a night (we hate hotels).

We have identified approximately 30 locations along our route where we hope to stop for rest and fellowship. Each location along our designated route is very important to the success of our trip. It will provide us not only with much needed rest but also grant us the opportunity to learn from our hosts what is happening in their lives, churches and communities. It is our hope not to be wandering travelers but rather invited guests. This will rely upon the willingness of individuals to open their homes and share their thoughts. We want to gain our understanding not as nameless, distant observers, but instead as friends around a dinner table. To achieve this we are hoping to connect with potential hosts for each location who could house us for a night. We are asking that our hosts provide us with three necessities:

A meal
A place to sleep (whether it be a backyard or a couch)
A willingness to discuss their thoughts over coffee

If you are interested in hosting us for a night, please check out our current route and contact us with your availability.

About Alex

2009-04-05T11:49:00.000-07:00

This summer will be a landmark between multiple aspects of my life: single to married, student to employee, and Indiana to unknown. I am excited to be married, find a job, and move, but fortunately I have been given the opportunity of a summer just to be “between”. During this time I hope to reflect on my life and then guide the decisions that I will make in the future through filling up on various interactions with people, God’s creation, and culture.

I am a person who feeds off of interaction with people. My energy comes from the presence of others and I highly value others’ outlook on life and how their experiences have shaped them. So, this summer I am anticipating to be transformed by all kinds of interactions, and I expect those interactions to come from a variety of sources: strangers, God, conversations with Kyle, and letters of love and reflection to my fiancé.

Our trip has significant meaning and purpose for both Kyle and I, but I must confess that my love for the outdoors and the idea of exploring my country through the lens of a motorcycle rider definitely excites me.

Below are some interesting things to know about me as well as a reference written by my lacrosse coach, Brad Bowser, at Taylor University.

When fishing, I am known as “The Postmaster”... I know where the fish live.
I am half Filipino and half Irish.
My fiancé is an inch taller than me and it is a beautiful thing (truly marrying up). Her name is Alyse Robertson and she has been gracious enough to encourage me to take this opportunity.

About Kyle

2009-04-05T11:48:00.000-07:00

I am a curious person. And while curiosity might have negative implications for the feline community, I have found it to be one of my strongest assets. I like to ask questions. It’s how I connect with people, how I learn, how I pursue faith, and how I end up on cross-country motorcycle trips.

My curiosity, mixed with a large helping of God’s guiding sovereignty, has led me out of my small Upland, IN hometown to experience the wonders of God’s excellent creation. I love the adventure of the great outdoors, the beauty of culture, and the uniqueness of people. This summer I am excited to see the country where I was born, learn of its needs, and see how God is working in it through his people and his church.

I am looking forward to meeting you. I hope that we can be a blessing and an encouragement to one another.

Below are some facts and figures about me as well as a reference written by my close friend and mentor, Steve Mortland.

According to my grandmother, I am the only one capable of carrying on the family name. She never lets me forget it… how’s that for pressure?
I always root for the underdog.
Currently listening to: Great Lake Swimmers
Currently reading: On the Road- Jack Kerouac
Want to meet: Desmond Tutu

Contact Us

2009-04-05T11:15:00.000-07:00

Here is our contact information:

Email: kyle.d.holloway@gmail.com
Skype: kyle.d.holloway
Twitter: kyle_holloway

Mailing Address:
236 W Reade Ave.
WH 339
Upland, IN 46989