I usually go out of my way not to mention individuals. Mostly that's because I don't ask them about being put up on the blog. But I'm going to break that rule with Jon. Primarily because we stayed with him for so long--5 days--but also because he was so cool.
Jon is a friend and Andy and Morgan. He graduated from Albright College and is now getting his doctorate in chemistry at Washington State University.
He picked us up late Tuesday night. He gave Matt, whom he hadn't met before, a big hug upon his arrival at his van in a mildly-sketchy parking lot on the corner of two streets. He helped us fit our bikes into his mini-van. He made us act like we were pedaling in his minivan all the way to his place. He cooked us food and provided drink as we were showering. He shared his wisdom with us. And his plans over the next five years. He's really quite a remarkable guy. He's brilliant, as you might guess, given his current undertaking, but his disposition is one that draws you to him. He was the perfect guy to spend five days with.
And the process I'm about to describe to you is why:
We woke up Wednesday--and after eating--went to play disc golf. You know, just to say we did something that day. We returned, with more food, to sit in front of the television and watch the television show "Big Bang Theory." We then played the board game "Settlers of Catan." Then we ate. Then we watched more Big Bang Theory. Then we played more Catan. Then we watched a movie and fell asleep. We woke up the next day and put in a few episodes of Big Bang. We started cooking breakfast while we set up another board game. Then we watched a mid-day movie, followed by a few episodes of Big Bang (which I will reference with BB from now on). Then a board game. Then BB. Then dinner and another game. A friend came over during the board game. We put in a movie to watch while we were playing. We fell asleep watching the movie.
Nothing really changed, except for our leaving the house for food, or a few social functions. It was beautiful. When you're on a bike everyday, nothing is better than sitting in front of a television while you're mindlessly entertained. Did I mention we were sitting on a couch? It was a perfect five days. We grew attached to the characters in BB. We grew attached, and more attached to Jon. We grew attached to the situation (which might not have been a good thing, I'm not sure).
There's nothing like spending five days sitting with someone in an apartment with nothing in particular to do. Especially when you're laughing a lot (laughter is a non-verbal signal that is often done in order to build relationships. Spend a significant amount of time--5 days, for example--laughing with someone and notice the bond you build).
And so it was rough riding away from Jon's place that next Monday. But all good things must come to an end. It was back into the dessert.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Idaho's northern tip: 150 miles of hunger, irritation, and bliss
We had stayed longer than we thought we would in Hamilton. That was OK. It was more than OK. We had three weeks to get somewhere that would only take us a week to ride--if we were going straight there, that is. Nevertheless, there was no doubt that all of us were still a little tired.
So, being tired and all, we decided to ride. From Hamilton, Monday morning, we proceeded to ride 90 miles to Jerry Johnson Hot springs. They were less commercialized than the first hot springs we had stayed at in Southeastern Idaho (remember Challis?), but they weren't as far away enough from the road to make us feel comfortable breaking the rules and pitching tent beside them.
Along the Clearwater river runs rt 12, through the beautiful Northern part of Idaho. It's green forest, clear river, and mountains made for excellent riding, not to mention that everything was at least slightly downhill--it's all river-grade from the top of the Lolo pass to Lewiston, ID on the other side of the state. The wind often made up for the slight downhill, however, and riding wasn't always as easy as it might have been. Welcome to our summer of riding bicycles.
Jerry Johnson Hot springs were a series of ten or more pools formed beside the Clearwater river. The pools that did not connect to the river were between 80 and 100 or more degrees. Others mixed with the river water to make cooler ones. Everyone had their pick. There was also a sign that said "clothing optional." That was a first was a couple of us. Luckily no one else was there.
Later that night our camp-stove ran out of fuel and we, being 50 miles from the nearest town, began to get a little nervous. We salvaged some dinner--cold baked beans and a few pieces of bread--and sprinted to set up our tents as a swarm of mosquitoes started biting us all of a sudden. We were also running short on water. We were beginning to second guess our decision to stop at the hot springs, but we had already pedaled 90 miles. We couldn't really have gone much further, right?
The next day proved that wrong. We made 50 miles in the morning like it was our job. Or like we didn't have any food left. Or like we were going to ride 150 miles that day to meet our friend. Though it would be lying if we said that we weren't a little annoyed at each other during certain parts of the day.
50 miles, or was it 55 miles? to a town in the state park that had a loaf of bread and water that wasn't drinkable. We ate peanut butter and honey--a recent staple in our diets. Morgan was getting tired of peanut butter so he had trail mix. Andy couldn't help but argue about the mix of peanuts he had just paid a high price to eat. It was one of those irritable moments for all:
Andy: "Matt, go tell him he can just buy something down the road. They have a grocery store."
Matt: "haha, is he irritated with you?"
A: "Ya. It's too bad I'm the one who has to give him any good advice. He won't listen when he's tired of me."
M: "That's too bad. You give such good advice."
Morgan walks around the corner carrying Chex-Mix and a peanut based trail mix. No one said anything. We all knew we were a little tired and that spells of irritation came and went. kind of.
Andy waited a while to pick up the bag that he, no doubt, thought Morgan needlessly spent an African village's water money on:
A: "Do you know the main ingredient in this is peanuts? Didn't you say they were making you sick?"
Morgan: "Peanut butter was. There's a difference."
At least their voices were kept low. The argument continued.
Other than the occasional fits of irritation--and they were primarily held in those morning hours--the ride that day was quite pleasant. It was cool. The woods were among the most beautiful we had seen. And after the first 70 miles we had food and water aplenty.
Except for the trucks. Did I tell you about the trucks on rt 12. Everyone told us about them. They didn't really tell us not to ride it. Well, they did. But they also told us that all kinds of others ride it. They just said it was miserable. And they were right. For probably 20 miles along rt 12 there isn't really a shoulder. It's right along the river, so at least if you go over the 20 feet or so of steep hill it's just into the water. The trucks literally came within inches each time at about 60 mph. Matt swears one of the trucks brushed up against him.
The adrenaline that each passing truck forced into your system was enough to make you insane. That sort of energy created from a negative situation makes it hard not to blame the individuals themselves for the situation. I would imagine that years and years of that would make you want to kill all kinds of people. I wondered if wars and mass killings weren't more than just the killers' faults. Often we don't fix situations we have the power to do something about.
Eventually we would ride in the middle of the road and put our hands up when we saw truckers coming. They slowed down, and were often quite unhappy. They gave us more room, though.
We stopped at a subway with 40 miles to go. At this point we had realized that if we got our friend to pick us up in Lewiston, and if we were going to go to Portland after his place, that we would be coming back down south anyway--so getting a ride straight north wasn't technically cheating. That was pretty exciting. And with that good news, a stomach full of subway--both of which contributed to a high morale we set out to Lewiston.
We arrived at midnight, or close to it. We had just pedaled 150 miles on bikes that weighed 80 pounds. We were pleased with ourselves. We were pleased with Jon. We were pleased with life.
So, being tired and all, we decided to ride. From Hamilton, Monday morning, we proceeded to ride 90 miles to Jerry Johnson Hot springs. They were less commercialized than the first hot springs we had stayed at in Southeastern Idaho (remember Challis?), but they weren't as far away enough from the road to make us feel comfortable breaking the rules and pitching tent beside them.
Along the Clearwater river runs rt 12, through the beautiful Northern part of Idaho. It's green forest, clear river, and mountains made for excellent riding, not to mention that everything was at least slightly downhill--it's all river-grade from the top of the Lolo pass to Lewiston, ID on the other side of the state. The wind often made up for the slight downhill, however, and riding wasn't always as easy as it might have been. Welcome to our summer of riding bicycles.
Jerry Johnson Hot springs were a series of ten or more pools formed beside the Clearwater river. The pools that did not connect to the river were between 80 and 100 or more degrees. Others mixed with the river water to make cooler ones. Everyone had their pick. There was also a sign that said "clothing optional." That was a first was a couple of us. Luckily no one else was there.
Later that night our camp-stove ran out of fuel and we, being 50 miles from the nearest town, began to get a little nervous. We salvaged some dinner--cold baked beans and a few pieces of bread--and sprinted to set up our tents as a swarm of mosquitoes started biting us all of a sudden. We were also running short on water. We were beginning to second guess our decision to stop at the hot springs, but we had already pedaled 90 miles. We couldn't really have gone much further, right?
The next day proved that wrong. We made 50 miles in the morning like it was our job. Or like we didn't have any food left. Or like we were going to ride 150 miles that day to meet our friend. Though it would be lying if we said that we weren't a little annoyed at each other during certain parts of the day.
50 miles, or was it 55 miles? to a town in the state park that had a loaf of bread and water that wasn't drinkable. We ate peanut butter and honey--a recent staple in our diets. Morgan was getting tired of peanut butter so he had trail mix. Andy couldn't help but argue about the mix of peanuts he had just paid a high price to eat. It was one of those irritable moments for all:
Andy: "Matt, go tell him he can just buy something down the road. They have a grocery store."
Matt: "haha, is he irritated with you?"
A: "Ya. It's too bad I'm the one who has to give him any good advice. He won't listen when he's tired of me."
M: "That's too bad. You give such good advice."
Morgan walks around the corner carrying Chex-Mix and a peanut based trail mix. No one said anything. We all knew we were a little tired and that spells of irritation came and went. kind of.
Andy waited a while to pick up the bag that he, no doubt, thought Morgan needlessly spent an African village's water money on:
A: "Do you know the main ingredient in this is peanuts? Didn't you say they were making you sick?"
Morgan: "Peanut butter was. There's a difference."
At least their voices were kept low. The argument continued.
Other than the occasional fits of irritation--and they were primarily held in those morning hours--the ride that day was quite pleasant. It was cool. The woods were among the most beautiful we had seen. And after the first 70 miles we had food and water aplenty.
Except for the trucks. Did I tell you about the trucks on rt 12. Everyone told us about them. They didn't really tell us not to ride it. Well, they did. But they also told us that all kinds of others ride it. They just said it was miserable. And they were right. For probably 20 miles along rt 12 there isn't really a shoulder. It's right along the river, so at least if you go over the 20 feet or so of steep hill it's just into the water. The trucks literally came within inches each time at about 60 mph. Matt swears one of the trucks brushed up against him.
The adrenaline that each passing truck forced into your system was enough to make you insane. That sort of energy created from a negative situation makes it hard not to blame the individuals themselves for the situation. I would imagine that years and years of that would make you want to kill all kinds of people. I wondered if wars and mass killings weren't more than just the killers' faults. Often we don't fix situations we have the power to do something about.
Eventually we would ride in the middle of the road and put our hands up when we saw truckers coming. They slowed down, and were often quite unhappy. They gave us more room, though.
We stopped at a subway with 40 miles to go. At this point we had realized that if we got our friend to pick us up in Lewiston, and if we were going to go to Portland after his place, that we would be coming back down south anyway--so getting a ride straight north wasn't technically cheating. That was pretty exciting. And with that good news, a stomach full of subway--both of which contributed to a high morale we set out to Lewiston.
We arrived at midnight, or close to it. We had just pedaled 150 miles on bikes that weighed 80 pounds. We were pleased with ourselves. We were pleased with Jon. We were pleased with life.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Andy's Reflections on The Ride For Marale
The weather was cold and rainy as we rode the last 75 miles of our journey across the United States. We made our way to the Oregon shore through towering evergreen trees, dense lush underbrush and up and down over several mountain passes. I had not expected this part of the trip to be dreary. I had envisioned a blue skied paradise.
As we rode west through the streets of Cannon Beach, Oregon I began to smell the salt. It was now quite cold due to the ocean breeze, and the drizzle had not subsided. There it was, the Pacific Ocean. I had ridden my bicycle from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean and... I didn't really feel any different. I had envisioned this moment to be one of euphoria. I expected a mountaintop experience, but instead I had a "you mean this is it" moment. I didn't really even want to get in the water. I was cold and tired and suddenly let down by the mundane nature of this event that I had been placing on a pedestal for the last 70 days.
It was at this point that I remembered the many timesi had heard that life was more about the journey than the destination. Cliche, I know. I began to reflect back on the past 6 months of my life. I thought of all the initial planning, fund raising, and gathering support we had done. I thought about Walking For Water (what a great day). I thought of all the conversations I had been a part of. All the early morning training rides Morgan and I did. Then I began to remember all the host families we stayed with, all the meals we had been a part of, all the sights we had seen. It all came flooding back and I was a little overwhelmed. It almost seemed like a dream, like none of it had actually happened.
I didn't know how to respond. In that moment I felt allI could express was praise to God for allowing me to experience something like this. In no way did I deserve to be this healthy, wealthy, or blessed. God didn't have to look out for us each day as we rode. We didn't have to survive all the traffic we rode through, or meet as many wonderfully hospitable people as we did. God had been entirely too good to us. In the same sentence, I should add that this trip would not have happened without all of the incredible support we received from our family and friends. I would likely fail miserably if I tried to create a list of all the names of people who helped to make this happen. Instead, if you are reading this, consider yourself thanked! I am truely greatful. I have a new perspective on what it means to be generous and I have resolved to become as hospitable and supportive of the people around me as people have been for me over the past few months.
Sitting back and reflecting on how this trip has impacted me is really tough to do. I have been stretched in many different ways, most of them non-physical. (A word on this... It does not seem that I am in great shape at this moment. In fact I might be in quite poor shape. Only the muscles required for pedaling a bicycle are strong. Walking, running, jumping, swimming, paddling a kayak, have all proven to be quite strenuous activities over the past few weeks.) On the social side of things, this trip quickly took the form of a practice marriage. Morgan, Matt, and I ate, slept, rode, spoke, did laundry, shopped, explored, and played together for 78 days. We shared money, food, and everything else. Each decision had to be made with all three of us in mind. Three opinions, one ultimate choice. We had to ride at a pace suitable for all of us, eat food we all could stand, take routes that we all agreed on.... I had never done anything like this before. In fact, I am generally a fairly independent person. I enjoy my freedom. I can say that I failed on numerous accounts to be an encouraging, supportive, positive part of our team. I said things I shouldn't have, I acted selfishly, and I learned a lot from the consequences. Don't take this the wrong way, Matt and Morgan were incredibly patient with me and we actually got along swimmingly (well, that is). I learned a lot about doing life with other people and I feel that I grew up a lot in the process.
Spiritually I learned as well. I feel more than ever that God is abundantly good and that I am of the weakest caliber. Even in my failings at discipline in spending time with God and placing trust in my own strength and wisdom rather than His, God was faithful. He stuck with me, protected me, and spoke louder than usual. This was a summer for teaching. I continued to feel that God was with me throughout this adventure and can see his hands all over the events of it. He placed us in so many situations that stretched our character and showed us about Himself. Even so, I am certainly looking forward to more of a routine in which my time with God can flourish again.
Another wonderful thing I learned was thrift. I learned that a person can survive quite well on less than $5 a day. This was quite a realization to me and showed me just how possible it would be to sustain a life of travel and adventure on a bicycle. We ate oatmeal for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly for lunch, and a rotation of pasta, rice and lentils, or potatoes for Dinner. We always obtained our jelly by begging for individual packets from diners we always made the most of any opportunity to eat for free. Waste not, want not. I experienced first hand how a person could be homeless and content. Regardless of your circumstances, you still exist in a similar human experience to those around you. Life still consists of unexpected treats and difficult letdowns. As many people before me have mentioned, "It is all relative"
How about the people in Uganda? Well to this point we have managed to connect enough people to raise roughly $13,000 for the construction of water systems in three Ugandan villages: Marale, Piswa, and Kitany. This is roughly $2000 short of what might be considered our goal for the ride. To be clear, the villages of Piswa and Marale have received the funding they need to begin constructing clean water systems. The village of Kitany is currently $2000 short of this realization.
Advocating for people you do not know is an interesting endeavor in and of itself. For one, it is devoid of relationship on my end. I do not know these people, and short of a trip to Africa, I never will know them. I am satisfied only to know that someday I will be spending eternity with our creator and meet some souls there who were impacted by an ambition God gave me. Storing up treasures, if you will.
Conversely though, when we help people we do not have relationship with, is this a cop out? Am I only helping these people because I am too afraid of the hard work it takes to enter into relationship with the needy people around me? Is this my way to feel good about myself without bogging myself down with relational involvement? These are serious questions I have begun to ask myself. I would welcome any other opinions of the matter. Ultimately I am glad that our efforts were able to bring a number of people in Uganda clean water, and I trust that God will in deed use this effort to bring more people to himself. This much I know for sure.
What is next you might ask? Well, this summer I have constructed an enormous list of possibilities for next summer. Some on the top of the list are work for the National Forest Service out west, spend a summer working in Africa, take a bicycle tour of Europe, buy a small and inexpensive chunk of land and build a small cabin from the ground up, or go back to Camp ECCO. Really I have no clue, and that is how it should be. Immediately, I will embark on the adventure of being a good Resident Assistant in a freshman dorm at Albright College. I am also looking forward to continuing to hone my skills as a math and physics tutor. I am still pursuing a degree in Math and Physics and hope to become a teacher someday.
In conclusion, thank you all again for being a part of this mission. I hope to speak with many of you about the trip as we get a chance to see one another in the coming times.
Peace be with you all.
As we rode west through the streets of Cannon Beach, Oregon I began to smell the salt. It was now quite cold due to the ocean breeze, and the drizzle had not subsided. There it was, the Pacific Ocean. I had ridden my bicycle from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean and... I didn't really feel any different. I had envisioned this moment to be one of euphoria. I expected a mountaintop experience, but instead I had a "you mean this is it" moment. I didn't really even want to get in the water. I was cold and tired and suddenly let down by the mundane nature of this event that I had been placing on a pedestal for the last 70 days.
It was at this point that I remembered the many timesi had heard that life was more about the journey than the destination. Cliche, I know. I began to reflect back on the past 6 months of my life. I thought of all the initial planning, fund raising, and gathering support we had done. I thought about Walking For Water (what a great day). I thought of all the conversations I had been a part of. All the early morning training rides Morgan and I did. Then I began to remember all the host families we stayed with, all the meals we had been a part of, all the sights we had seen. It all came flooding back and I was a little overwhelmed. It almost seemed like a dream, like none of it had actually happened.
I didn't know how to respond. In that moment I felt allI could express was praise to God for allowing me to experience something like this. In no way did I deserve to be this healthy, wealthy, or blessed. God didn't have to look out for us each day as we rode. We didn't have to survive all the traffic we rode through, or meet as many wonderfully hospitable people as we did. God had been entirely too good to us. In the same sentence, I should add that this trip would not have happened without all of the incredible support we received from our family and friends. I would likely fail miserably if I tried to create a list of all the names of people who helped to make this happen. Instead, if you are reading this, consider yourself thanked! I am truely greatful. I have a new perspective on what it means to be generous and I have resolved to become as hospitable and supportive of the people around me as people have been for me over the past few months.
Sitting back and reflecting on how this trip has impacted me is really tough to do. I have been stretched in many different ways, most of them non-physical. (A word on this... It does not seem that I am in great shape at this moment. In fact I might be in quite poor shape. Only the muscles required for pedaling a bicycle are strong. Walking, running, jumping, swimming, paddling a kayak, have all proven to be quite strenuous activities over the past few weeks.) On the social side of things, this trip quickly took the form of a practice marriage. Morgan, Matt, and I ate, slept, rode, spoke, did laundry, shopped, explored, and played together for 78 days. We shared money, food, and everything else. Each decision had to be made with all three of us in mind. Three opinions, one ultimate choice. We had to ride at a pace suitable for all of us, eat food we all could stand, take routes that we all agreed on.... I had never done anything like this before. In fact, I am generally a fairly independent person. I enjoy my freedom. I can say that I failed on numerous accounts to be an encouraging, supportive, positive part of our team. I said things I shouldn't have, I acted selfishly, and I learned a lot from the consequences. Don't take this the wrong way, Matt and Morgan were incredibly patient with me and we actually got along swimmingly (well, that is). I learned a lot about doing life with other people and I feel that I grew up a lot in the process.
Spiritually I learned as well. I feel more than ever that God is abundantly good and that I am of the weakest caliber. Even in my failings at discipline in spending time with God and placing trust in my own strength and wisdom rather than His, God was faithful. He stuck with me, protected me, and spoke louder than usual. This was a summer for teaching. I continued to feel that God was with me throughout this adventure and can see his hands all over the events of it. He placed us in so many situations that stretched our character and showed us about Himself. Even so, I am certainly looking forward to more of a routine in which my time with God can flourish again.
Another wonderful thing I learned was thrift. I learned that a person can survive quite well on less than $5 a day. This was quite a realization to me and showed me just how possible it would be to sustain a life of travel and adventure on a bicycle. We ate oatmeal for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly for lunch, and a rotation of pasta, rice and lentils, or potatoes for Dinner. We always obtained our jelly by begging for individual packets from diners we always made the most of any opportunity to eat for free. Waste not, want not. I experienced first hand how a person could be homeless and content. Regardless of your circumstances, you still exist in a similar human experience to those around you. Life still consists of unexpected treats and difficult letdowns. As many people before me have mentioned, "It is all relative"
How about the people in Uganda? Well to this point we have managed to connect enough people to raise roughly $13,000 for the construction of water systems in three Ugandan villages: Marale, Piswa, and Kitany. This is roughly $2000 short of what might be considered our goal for the ride. To be clear, the villages of Piswa and Marale have received the funding they need to begin constructing clean water systems. The village of Kitany is currently $2000 short of this realization.
Advocating for people you do not know is an interesting endeavor in and of itself. For one, it is devoid of relationship on my end. I do not know these people, and short of a trip to Africa, I never will know them. I am satisfied only to know that someday I will be spending eternity with our creator and meet some souls there who were impacted by an ambition God gave me. Storing up treasures, if you will.
Conversely though, when we help people we do not have relationship with, is this a cop out? Am I only helping these people because I am too afraid of the hard work it takes to enter into relationship with the needy people around me? Is this my way to feel good about myself without bogging myself down with relational involvement? These are serious questions I have begun to ask myself. I would welcome any other opinions of the matter. Ultimately I am glad that our efforts were able to bring a number of people in Uganda clean water, and I trust that God will in deed use this effort to bring more people to himself. This much I know for sure.
What is next you might ask? Well, this summer I have constructed an enormous list of possibilities for next summer. Some on the top of the list are work for the National Forest Service out west, spend a summer working in Africa, take a bicycle tour of Europe, buy a small and inexpensive chunk of land and build a small cabin from the ground up, or go back to Camp ECCO. Really I have no clue, and that is how it should be. Immediately, I will embark on the adventure of being a good Resident Assistant in a freshman dorm at Albright College. I am also looking forward to continuing to hone my skills as a math and physics tutor. I am still pursuing a degree in Math and Physics and hope to become a teacher someday.
In conclusion, thank you all again for being a part of this mission. I hope to speak with many of you about the trip as we get a chance to see one another in the coming times.
Peace be with you all.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, Children of All Ages...
WE MADE IT!
On Tuesday, August 10th at 6:30 PM we arrived at the Pacific Ocean. Our ride took 72 days, we
went through 13 different states, rode over 4000 miles, consumed an estimated 50 pounds of Peanut Butter,
and raised $12,000 and counting towards the construction of clean water systems in three different villages.
Be on the look out for concluding thoughts from each of us as we arrive home and have time to process all
that has happened over the past two and a half months. We all plan to put our thoughts into words,
so you can expect a post from each of us. Matt will continue writing stories from the places we haven't talked much about, too. So don't stop paying attention yet.
Here are some more pictures to hold you over....
It turns out the water on the pacific ocean is freezing. We didn't quite go swimming.
A little taste of the Washington coast line.
This is a four mile long bridge that crosses the Columbia River right before it pours into the Pacific. One side of the bridge is Oregon, the other is Washington. One of the more incredible feets of engineering I have ever encountered. Pictures do not come close to capturing the size, height, or length of this thing.
To get up to the higher portion of the bridge one must climb a 200 feet or so up a circling ramp. Kind of felt like a roller coaster.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Portland: Runaway Capital
She had blonde hair, dyed, I think. A black shirt, and black cargo pants. She looked like she used to be pretty muscular, back before the food must've run a bit sparse. She might've played softball. She might've been a catcher. In fact, she might be playing high school ball right now if things had been a little different. But those days were long gone, for sure. She didn't look up at me from the side walk. Her sign said it all: "I make you feel better about yourself." There was a hat for putting money in titled "Space Hat." And there she was, offering her bit of pleasure in the form of self-righteousness--and all from the sidewalk.
And so I walked past, wishing I had the ability to sit down and chat with her about the anger that comes with being ignored all day. Down the street a different girl sitting on the sidewalk laughed at another man's joke, confiding in him that she "was so drunk." The homeless in Portland are only different because of their age. They're also much more interesting because of their age, I think.
Portland is an interesting city. It's very biker friendly, as in bikers have a lot of rights--and by rights I mean lanes. Bike lanes are everywhere. Cars are used to sharing the road with bikes. People also get very upset at bikers when they break the traffic laws--like when people get upset with other drivers when they break traffic laws. So unless you've come from the east where you can get away with doing whatever you want on a bike because no one really knows the traffic laws for bicycles--unless you're Andy--you'll be fine.
After a few traffic laws were violated. After a few people yelled profanities. After Matt finally broke down laughing and made a few smart comments to an affluent white couple. After Andy almost got hit. The trio got separated and frustrated trying to catch the train to meet the family they were staying with.
(A small tangent: Portland has a "Free Zone" for the train. If you get on the train in the downtown area you can ride for free. If you board it outside the proper downtown area you have to pay a certain amount depending on where you're boarding it from. Cities out east should give this a try.)
Nevertheless we met the family and had an amazing weekend hanging out with the parents and three of their boys (who were our age; they also had an older son who kindly texted his family a picture of him an michael Jordan--he's working at one of his camps).
Matt and the oldest son that was home got a long really well and spent the weekend hanging out in Portland and watching television.
Andy and Morgan spent time hanging out with the son that was their age as well as spending some time with one of Morgan's distant relatives. Overall it was a great weekend--one couldn't have asked for a more restful or fun weekend before we complete our goal in the next week.
Don't worry, I'll keep filling you in about what happened in Pullman and the last week. Cheers for now.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
A very unordered picture summary of our last few days...
I think majestic is the word.
Pictures do not come close to capturing this guy.
A famous donut shop in Portland. The line was around the block so we didn't try any, but we were there.
Lots of waterfalls along the gorge.
The trail we road along had an abrupt obstacle on it. I don't think the bike grooves on the stairs were designed with 80 lb. touring bikes in mind.
Anything goes in Portland.
Ya, we met Jimmy Hendrix!
Breakdancing show in downtown Portland. Impressive.
Our 13th state.
A bike trail we road on following the Columbia River gorge.
We almost ran over this rattlesnake on our way through the eastern Oregon desert.
Asparagus field. A first.
Gorgeous. Pun.
We road into Portland on Friday evening and met up with some new friends. We enjoyed a nice day in Portland on Saturday and will stay for church on Sunday as well. We will then ride to THE COAST! on Monday morning. Looking foreward to seeing all our friends and family soon.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Hamilton, MT: Brewfest, Fire, and the meaning of life through story
Idaho was proving to be much nicer than any other fine state that opened itself up to commercialization and the other--motorized--tourists. One man from Idaho who picked us up in his 1992 Volkswagen Van told us "If anyone asks you if there's anything in Idaho, tell them that there's only potatoes."
And so we did. Well, we will. Idaho seems to still be under the radar for most people trying to tour the Northwest.
Montana, on the other hand, seems to get a little more attention. We made our way into Hamilton Montana hearing about a brew-fest that was happening on the day we were to arrive. Well, mostly we saw posters advertising for it as we were riding towards it that day. We thought it was pretty cool that the town was having a party on the same day we were arriving, let alone a brew-fest. But we think that about every town that happens to have a party on the day we arrive. Mostly it happens to us each friday and/or saturday. It seems like maybe most towns have little fair-like get-togethers on weekends in the summer. I digress.
We arrived in Hamilton with hopes held high. We weren't expecting to do much partying though. Matt is the only one who can drink legally, and even one person has to drop $30 to get a few drinks in him at one of these festivals. So we settled for pasta and ice cream right outside the festival.
Sooner than later we were talking with a lovely couple of people at a pavillion. They were modest folk, perhaps a little less excited to talk to us than those who had already consumed a generous amount of alcohol. There was even one woman who was unhappy because her daughter, who was Matt's age, had just left.
"It's too bad, I could have introduced her to ya'll."
It was too bad. Matt hadn't showered in 5 or 7 days; even alcohol doesn't stop one from sensing a person who hasn't engaged in common social rituals for that amount of time.
So the trio spent their time chatting with anyone who would put up with their company. After a while the couple started to take a liking to the trio.
"You boys aren't like a lot of the "new" kids these days."
"What do you mean by new kids?" Andy always asks good questions, right?
"Well you're very polite and respectful."
"Well thank you."
The way they worded the compliment was unlike I had heard it before--so much so that I was surprised to hear it. And so we proceeded. They told us what it was like to live in Montana; what it was like to have children; what it was like to be them. And we shared about ourselves and about our ride, assuming that they understood mostly about what it was like to be us. They certainly seemed to.
After talking a while we were humbly invited back to the woman's house to sleep. I suppose it was kind of like being picked up at a bar, only without the connotations. In fact, if we were any good at that sort of thing, we might've slept much more peacefully many nights previously.
Nevertheless, a couple hours later we found ourselves fast asleep on her living room floor--bathed and everything.
She was a marvelous woman. In the morning she cooked us a huge breakfast and let us into her life a little bit more. She was beautiful. Wonderfully talented. Perhaps a bit under-appreciated. She was also very generous. I thought of some of the richest religious people we'd met on our trip so far--mostly the ones who'd turned us away--and wished they could meet her.
We finished breakfast and hurried off to church; we went down the street and she went to the town we had passed through the day before.
Church: The one pastor--who happened to be speaking that Sunday--was emotionally disturbed by the lack of effort put forth by the congregation during a youth function recently. He did a lot of yelling. It was quite interesting. He kept mentioning the body of Christ and pointing out how the people in the congregation weren't being very christ-like as they weren't supporting the youth and trying to bring them to christ like they should've.
Talking with some people afterward it seemed like the message--one unlike any other that I had heard to that point--was received well enough. Well. Kind of. We heard that in retrospect the man was likely to look back on his sermon as one that was perhaps a bit emotional. perhaps a bit less thought-through. perhaps a little unlike the other ones he'd given. And maybe he'd be a bit embarrassed about it, though no one would fault him for it, now or in the future. Anyway, that probably doesn't make much sense to anyone that wasn't there. (how detailed are blogs supposed to be anyway?)
As the service came to an end we started talking to people in the rows behind us and in front of us. They probably noticed each of us get up three times during the service and go to the bathroom--we kept passing back and forth a 32 oz. bottle of water. So between getting up to fill it and getting up to go to the bathroom, I don't think the back door of the sanctuary was ever fully closed.
anyway, we met a man and his wife who ran marathons. well, his wife ran marathons. Not to be outdone, the man ran ultra-marathons. With her dad. in other words, he ran 50 miles at a time, often through the woods, in what other individuals would call a race. They got shirts and free drinks and other fancy things. This man also got trophies, but they only go to the top few folks in the race. He was impressive. And so we had no trouble chatting over lunch. After he taught us a lesson, of course:
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Matt asked as lettuce was being cut up for salad and large pieces of hamburger meat were being patted onto a platted to be grilled. The three boys stood around drinking soda.
"No. We'd just like it if you let us serve you right now." He looked Matt in the eye and smiled. It was the second or third time he had asked. Being able to be served must've been a quality that Mary understood better than Martha. Martha was a bit humiliated at the end of that story, if you'll remember. Matt learned it before he was humiliated, don't worry--this story ends pleasantly.
Well, kind of. During dinner a huge forest fire broke out at the top of one of the peaks within eyesight of their living room window.
Later that evening we all attended a bible study--a small group from the church, if you will. We stayed with the family who hosted the small group.
If you're wondering about what people with children talk about when they study the bible, it's a lot like anyone else when they're studying the bible. Except for maybe bible scholars. But they don't seem to get together and eat banana nut bread: they sit by themselves at mahogany desks and write letters via journals back and forth so that the rest of the world can listen in on what they've got to say, if they've got time. If not their pastor tells them one sunday.
And so there we were, sitting around a living room acting like normal religious people. It was quite enjoyable.
Later that evening we found out that instead of getting a new sports car or something slightly irresponsible this man and wife had three daughters during their mid-life crisis. It seemed a lot more productive than most couples we had met until then. It was a second chance at parenting if nothing else.
And after a number of long conversations with the family we went to bed, only to wake up in the morning, eat, and get on our bikes and begin riding again. Refreshed if nothing else.
You see. This is life. Not a lot of exciting, extra-ordinary things happen in anyone's story. In fact, it's rarely the events that make the story. It's the way it's told. So instead of taking in some motivational speaker's ideas about living a better life, why not get better at telling stories.
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