Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
1st 2 Weeks...Ironing Out The Wrinkles
Only rule for the next 45 days---keep the water on our right.
A long overdue bike trip breakdown...Departure Day to the present (Day 13):
Day 1- When telling the Canadian border guard where we are going, his response..."Mexico? Man you're at the wrong f'n border."
We pedal for 2 minutes before realizing neither of our bike computers are registering the correct speed. Bens' reads 'error' while mine has me going twice as fast as we really are. Solid deduction work finds that Ben's front wheel is on backwards and I have not 1, but 2 sensors on my spokes reading my wheel rotation...twice. Hell, I figured at that rate we'd be in Mexico by October 1st. No dice. Stupidity wins.
For dinner, in honor of our destination, we feast on burritos and enchiladas. Soon thereafter the lactard makes its first debut of the trip.
We camp in a church field with a boy scout troop. I proceed to get made fun of by a 10 year old weeblow of sorts for forgetting to bring a headlamp. If they give badges for ridiculing, that nasty brat has one.
Day 2- Check the Doppler weather forecast on Ben's cell phone. Apparently there is a big green monster headed our way. Leave quick like.
Unbeknownst to us, heading south we find ourselves on the same route as a Hospice charity ride with loads of other cyclists. Except for the fact we are the only sherpas hauling 50 lbs of weight on our bikes while everyone is flying by at Mach 9. We do however take advantage of their complimentary food & drink pit stops...finding ourselves conversing about something we are obviously both experts in...hospice. Oh, and BS’ing.
Fall asleep in the tranquil Deception Pass State Park...with military fighter planes screaming overhead. Ben's snoring has now become the least of my worries.
Day 3- Green monster caught up with us and drenched us last night. Apparently it rains here in the Pacific Northwest. The first hour of my day is spent in a moldy state park bathroom, every 30 seconds, hitting the hand drier buttons hoping to dry out my gear. Ben's ridicule aside, I emerge successful...and wetless.
Eat breakfast at Franks Place. Order, stretch the ‘ol muscles, then feast. Find out only after we're done that they have a Sumo Burger Food Challenge...1.5 pounds of meat stacked just under a foot tall with fries and veggies in 30 minutes. Timing is everything as I tried to talk Ben into it as it was technically lunch now that we just had breakfast. 'To early to puke in this trip' was his response.
Hours later (ie 2) we eat lunch at a Pizzeria. You know how shaking babies is a mistake? And 80's music is a mistake? And pet rocks? Well eating cheese pizza, a glass of milk and an ice cream dessert for lunch is one as well. Intolerant to lactose am I, which later finds Ben intolerant to cycling behind me. Within 30 minutes I find myself demolishing some poor Laundromats restroom...and for awhile too. So long my legs went numb and my hearing temporarily went out. Almost feel like I was in worse shape when I stood up than when I sat down. I swear. Never again will that lunch be repeated.
Day 4- solid citizen again. New obstacle is fixing my 1st flat tire of the trip. Front tire, slow leak, no real issue.
Ben falls off his bike for the second time. Picture snapped.
Spend the night with a family we met online on the website www.warmshowers.org Regardless of how some people read it, its a clean and useful website that networks touring cyclists to random hosts homes that will house stanky cyclists, and provide food, shower and shelter for the night...for free. Kind of a pay it forward deal...helping others if you will. Great family. The evening finds us soaking in their hot tub and Ben coaxing their 8 year old son into giving him a massage. No joke. True story. And when Ben even thinks about getting married or running for public office, I've got some fairly risqué photos that may have to surface. The child’s name was Lewis. Ask Ben for details. Daily.
Day 5- Ben craps into a bucket in their garage. Once again, I do not lie. The family left the house for work/school, locked the door, and left us full bellied from breakfast in their garage. No restroom, Ben last resorts it into a garbage bag via the bucket. Inspired, I see the kitty litter box. However realizing the horror on Lewis's face when he saw what the 'cat' had recently eaten, I too joined team bucket. Believe when I say my head's in my hands.
Spend the night in a corner small town General Store. Yet this General Store was on crack. It was a motorcycle dealer, flea market, auction center, concert hall, leather shop, and recording studio all in one. Of course we slept on the pull out couch in the middle of it all.
Day 6- within 5 minutes of waking up I find myself with a hammer in my hand, banging on the outside of the General Store wall. Apparently Ben arranged a work trade with the owner which consisted of pounding the boards in, in a fruitless effort to seal up the cracks of this 100 year old barn. Ben soon losses his negotiating rights.
The afternoon finds the best of my cubby thumbs and good luck. I break my handlebar bag’s straps and gain 2 flat tires.
Pedal by Mt Saint Helens area to discover that the local high schools mascot is none other than a volcano. Every reads ‘go volcanoes go!’ Seems the residents there haven’t fully thought out what they are cheering for. My bet? Insurance scam.
Dinner at pizzeria (its cool come dinner time). Solicit a nice old couple headed for the door for advice on where two cyclists could camp. 20 minutes later we find ourselves in their hot tub, tent set up in their front yard, and playing with their dog. That was some of the best ‘advice’ thus far on the trip.
2 hot tubs in 6 days, Ben looks over at me and says “I live better on a bike then I do at home.” The secret’s out.
Day 7- Side trip to Portland. Look at a Nursing School and see old buddy from Jackson Hole. Attend a med school party where the future surgeons of America are getting hammered and joking about corpses tattoos. A first.
Day 8- Recover from the party…and the jokes.
Day 9- Pedal through the Columbia River Gorge to Astoria
Fall asleep on a hill overlooking the bay and the town. Ben spots 7 shooting stars. I spot zero. I call Ben a liar. He calls me blind.
Later I dream of letting the air out of his tires.
.
Day 10- Astoria! Beautiful! Green! Friendly! But more importantly, also known globally as the site where they filmed the movie Goonies. Yep. I saw it. The very spot where Chunk did the Truffle Shuffle. As much as I pleaded, Ben wouldn’t duplicate
Stop in the town of Seaside which marks the end of the Lewis and Clark Trail. Ben and I attempt to adopt new cycling identities, but disagree on who gets to be Lewis. We bicker over who would be a better Lewis, in the end we remembered his fond memories from Day 4 and he was destined to be Lewis.
Day 11- catch Ben checking out a 70 year old’s ass. Proof is in the pudding. Wait. That may not be an appropriate time to use that.
Pedal through Tillamook Oregon…home of Tillamook cheese, ice cream, and all other items I should avoid but don’t. Stop in the factory and indulge. Hee hee.
Day 12- awake to a state park ranger lecturing Ben on the need to pay for the site 1st thing upon arrival…which we hadn’t. Ranger Rick sputters out something about raccoons consuming beer over food for its calories, Ben pretends he’s interested and I pretend I’m asleep. For sure thought Ben (aka Lewis) was going to little ranger jail, but no dice.
Later randomly meet up with seven 60+ year olds cycling the better part of the Oregon coast. Amazing! Even find myself drafting behind the oldest one for awhile…81 years old. It’s not in the bible but I bet it would have been the 11th commandment. Thou shall not draft an elder. Ben finds that dirty and is currently giggling about it.
Day 13- no bike day. Stayed at another warmshowers.org house last night and cleaned bikes, ate and chatted. Oh yea, their home is also right on the beach and has the best view from a hot tub yet while sipping champagne yet. No lie. 3 days ago the son and wife of the house just finished up a 6000 mile long coast to coast (and everywhere in between) bicycle ride. Hence the bubbly in the bubbles. We are now averaging a hot tub every 4 days and our standards are getting disgustingly high.
--Chubby Thumbs
A long overdue bike trip breakdown...Departure Day to the present (Day 13):
Day 1- When telling the Canadian border guard where we are going, his response..."Mexico? Man you're at the wrong f'n border."
We pedal for 2 minutes before realizing neither of our bike computers are registering the correct speed. Bens' reads 'error' while mine has me going twice as fast as we really are. Solid deduction work finds that Ben's front wheel is on backwards and I have not 1, but 2 sensors on my spokes reading my wheel rotation...twice. Hell, I figured at that rate we'd be in Mexico by October 1st. No dice. Stupidity wins.
For dinner, in honor of our destination, we feast on burritos and enchiladas. Soon thereafter the lactard makes its first debut of the trip.
We camp in a church field with a boy scout troop. I proceed to get made fun of by a 10 year old weeblow of sorts for forgetting to bring a headlamp. If they give badges for ridiculing, that nasty brat has one.
Day 2- Check the Doppler weather forecast on Ben's cell phone. Apparently there is a big green monster headed our way. Leave quick like.
Unbeknownst to us, heading south we find ourselves on the same route as a Hospice charity ride with loads of other cyclists. Except for the fact we are the only sherpas hauling 50 lbs of weight on our bikes while everyone is flying by at Mach 9. We do however take advantage of their complimentary food & drink pit stops...finding ourselves conversing about something we are obviously both experts in...hospice. Oh, and BS’ing.
Fall asleep in the tranquil Deception Pass State Park...with military fighter planes screaming overhead. Ben's snoring has now become the least of my worries.
Day 3- Green monster caught up with us and drenched us last night. Apparently it rains here in the Pacific Northwest. The first hour of my day is spent in a moldy state park bathroom, every 30 seconds, hitting the hand drier buttons hoping to dry out my gear. Ben's ridicule aside, I emerge successful...and wetless.
Eat breakfast at Franks Place. Order, stretch the ‘ol muscles, then feast. Find out only after we're done that they have a Sumo Burger Food Challenge...1.5 pounds of meat stacked just under a foot tall with fries and veggies in 30 minutes. Timing is everything as I tried to talk Ben into it as it was technically lunch now that we just had breakfast. 'To early to puke in this trip' was his response.
Hours later (ie 2) we eat lunch at a Pizzeria. You know how shaking babies is a mistake? And 80's music is a mistake? And pet rocks? Well eating cheese pizza, a glass of milk and an ice cream dessert for lunch is one as well. Intolerant to lactose am I, which later finds Ben intolerant to cycling behind me. Within 30 minutes I find myself demolishing some poor Laundromats restroom...and for awhile too. So long my legs went numb and my hearing temporarily went out. Almost feel like I was in worse shape when I stood up than when I sat down. I swear. Never again will that lunch be repeated.
Day 4- solid citizen again. New obstacle is fixing my 1st flat tire of the trip. Front tire, slow leak, no real issue.
Ben falls off his bike for the second time. Picture snapped.
Spend the night with a family we met online on the website www.warmshowers.org Regardless of how some people read it, its a clean and useful website that networks touring cyclists to random hosts homes that will house stanky cyclists, and provide food, shower and shelter for the night...for free. Kind of a pay it forward deal...helping others if you will. Great family. The evening finds us soaking in their hot tub and Ben coaxing their 8 year old son into giving him a massage. No joke. True story. And when Ben even thinks about getting married or running for public office, I've got some fairly risqué photos that may have to surface. The child’s name was Lewis. Ask Ben for details. Daily.
Day 5- Ben craps into a bucket in their garage. Once again, I do not lie. The family left the house for work/school, locked the door, and left us full bellied from breakfast in their garage. No restroom, Ben last resorts it into a garbage bag via the bucket. Inspired, I see the kitty litter box. However realizing the horror on Lewis's face when he saw what the 'cat' had recently eaten, I too joined team bucket. Believe when I say my head's in my hands.
Spend the night in a corner small town General Store. Yet this General Store was on crack. It was a motorcycle dealer, flea market, auction center, concert hall, leather shop, and recording studio all in one. Of course we slept on the pull out couch in the middle of it all.
Day 6- within 5 minutes of waking up I find myself with a hammer in my hand, banging on the outside of the General Store wall. Apparently Ben arranged a work trade with the owner which consisted of pounding the boards in, in a fruitless effort to seal up the cracks of this 100 year old barn. Ben soon losses his negotiating rights.
The afternoon finds the best of my cubby thumbs and good luck. I break my handlebar bag’s straps and gain 2 flat tires.
Pedal by Mt Saint Helens area to discover that the local high schools mascot is none other than a volcano. Every reads ‘go volcanoes go!’ Seems the residents there haven’t fully thought out what they are cheering for. My bet? Insurance scam.
Dinner at pizzeria (its cool come dinner time). Solicit a nice old couple headed for the door for advice on where two cyclists could camp. 20 minutes later we find ourselves in their hot tub, tent set up in their front yard, and playing with their dog. That was some of the best ‘advice’ thus far on the trip.
2 hot tubs in 6 days, Ben looks over at me and says “I live better on a bike then I do at home.” The secret’s out.
Day 7- Side trip to Portland. Look at a Nursing School and see old buddy from Jackson Hole. Attend a med school party where the future surgeons of America are getting hammered and joking about corpses tattoos. A first.
Day 8- Recover from the party…and the jokes.
Day 9- Pedal through the Columbia River Gorge to Astoria
Fall asleep on a hill overlooking the bay and the town. Ben spots 7 shooting stars. I spot zero. I call Ben a liar. He calls me blind.
Later I dream of letting the air out of his tires.
.
Day 10- Astoria! Beautiful! Green! Friendly! But more importantly, also known globally as the site where they filmed the movie Goonies. Yep. I saw it. The very spot where Chunk did the Truffle Shuffle. As much as I pleaded, Ben wouldn’t duplicate
Stop in the town of Seaside which marks the end of the Lewis and Clark Trail. Ben and I attempt to adopt new cycling identities, but disagree on who gets to be Lewis. We bicker over who would be a better Lewis, in the end we remembered his fond memories from Day 4 and he was destined to be Lewis.
Day 11- catch Ben checking out a 70 year old’s ass. Proof is in the pudding. Wait. That may not be an appropriate time to use that.
Pedal through Tillamook Oregon…home of Tillamook cheese, ice cream, and all other items I should avoid but don’t. Stop in the factory and indulge. Hee hee.
Day 12- awake to a state park ranger lecturing Ben on the need to pay for the site 1st thing upon arrival…which we hadn’t. Ranger Rick sputters out something about raccoons consuming beer over food for its calories, Ben pretends he’s interested and I pretend I’m asleep. For sure thought Ben (aka Lewis) was going to little ranger jail, but no dice.
Later randomly meet up with seven 60+ year olds cycling the better part of the Oregon coast. Amazing! Even find myself drafting behind the oldest one for awhile…81 years old. It’s not in the bible but I bet it would have been the 11th commandment. Thou shall not draft an elder. Ben finds that dirty and is currently giggling about it.
Day 13- no bike day. Stayed at another warmshowers.org house last night and cleaned bikes, ate and chatted. Oh yea, their home is also right on the beach and has the best view from a hot tub yet while sipping champagne yet. No lie. 3 days ago the son and wife of the house just finished up a 6000 mile long coast to coast (and everywhere in between) bicycle ride. Hence the bubbly in the bubbles. We are now averaging a hot tub every 4 days and our standards are getting disgustingly high.
--Chubby Thumbs
Monday, September 11, 2006
Returning to Norm?
Just escaped from the trunk of that nice man's car...5 weeks later.
Note to self...if they promise candy, that means kidnapping.
Ok, better not go further with that one or Grandma's going to believe it, call the police, and strain those 9 decade old arterial walls.
Catching up in a nutshell:
Nepal= colorfully pleasant chaos. 7 days galloping around the Annapurna range. My biggest head scratcher--why do they call it "trekking." Every other place I've been its walking, hiking, or just plain stumbling about. But oh no, not in Nepal. In Nepal it’s trekking! It does sound cooler but it feels just like walking to me. I kept asking people if they liked walking or trekking better. The response was always muddled. One kid even threw rocks at me screaming, "trek this!" That’s what I liked about Nepal...their warm hearts (i.e. their bad aim).
Thailand= banana pancake'n, elephant ride'n, lagoon swim'n, and monkee hump'n, and ping pong dodg'n. First night in Bangkok I’m trekking downtown when a man approaches me. Eyes on the sidewalk, he mumbles, "ping pong." I reply, "ping pong! I love ping-pong! Lets go play us some ping pong!" The man looks at me as if I'd just run over his dog. Apparently this ping-pong isn’t as much of a game as it's more entertainment. The man proceeds to explain to me what a ping pong show is. The description, vague as it wasn't, entailed a woman, legs spread, popping ping-pong balls out from her baby makin hole. He then produced a list of various other talents that this skilled performer practiced. To keep this from going pg-13, it entailed razorblades, pens, goldfish, darts, balloons, and 20 meters of streamer.... basically all the necessary items for a 12 year olds birthday party. Yikes.
And that was Thailand...and no I never got to play ping-pong.
And now I’m back stateside. Changes I've noticed since being gone?
- a gallon of gas is approaching the rate of minimum wage
- Fashion: sunglasses have become as big as car windshields
- Bush's ears have grown while his public support shrinks (finally!)
- when I left everyone loved Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson...now only their mothers.
So now in 5 days be and my brotha from another motha will begin our 6-week trip down the west coast on bicycles. Canada to Mexico. Canuck to Cuervo. Molson to Margaritas. Crackers to, ummmm...wheat crackers? I'm an idiot. If you'd like to join us for any section, drop us a line. We'd love the company.
Until next time...happy trekking.
-Chubby Thumbs (i.e. DT willy).
Note to self...if they promise candy, that means kidnapping.
Ok, better not go further with that one or Grandma's going to believe it, call the police, and strain those 9 decade old arterial walls.
Catching up in a nutshell:
Nepal= colorfully pleasant chaos. 7 days galloping around the Annapurna range. My biggest head scratcher--why do they call it "trekking." Every other place I've been its walking, hiking, or just plain stumbling about. But oh no, not in Nepal. In Nepal it’s trekking! It does sound cooler but it feels just like walking to me. I kept asking people if they liked walking or trekking better. The response was always muddled. One kid even threw rocks at me screaming, "trek this!" That’s what I liked about Nepal...their warm hearts (i.e. their bad aim).
Thailand= banana pancake'n, elephant ride'n, lagoon swim'n, and monkee hump'n, and ping pong dodg'n. First night in Bangkok I’m trekking downtown when a man approaches me. Eyes on the sidewalk, he mumbles, "ping pong." I reply, "ping pong! I love ping-pong! Lets go play us some ping pong!" The man looks at me as if I'd just run over his dog. Apparently this ping-pong isn’t as much of a game as it's more entertainment. The man proceeds to explain to me what a ping pong show is. The description, vague as it wasn't, entailed a woman, legs spread, popping ping-pong balls out from her baby makin hole. He then produced a list of various other talents that this skilled performer practiced. To keep this from going pg-13, it entailed razorblades, pens, goldfish, darts, balloons, and 20 meters of streamer.... basically all the necessary items for a 12 year olds birthday party. Yikes.
And that was Thailand...and no I never got to play ping-pong.
And now I’m back stateside. Changes I've noticed since being gone?
- a gallon of gas is approaching the rate of minimum wage
- Fashion: sunglasses have become as big as car windshields
- Bush's ears have grown while his public support shrinks (finally!)
- when I left everyone loved Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson...now only their mothers.
So now in 5 days be and my brotha from another motha will begin our 6-week trip down the west coast on bicycles. Canada to Mexico. Canuck to Cuervo. Molson to Margaritas. Crackers to, ummmm...wheat crackers? I'm an idiot. If you'd like to join us for any section, drop us a line. We'd love the company.
Until next time...happy trekking.
-Chubby Thumbs (i.e. DT willy).
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