Worst of Times, Best of Times

I was in charge of writing the journal from yesterday's ride. I'm just going to post this for today.

Saturday, June 28^th, 2008

I want to begin this letter with a dedication to the parents of NUS ’08 riders. Every day I consider myself so blessed to be a part of this amazing group of people. Thank you for allowing them to be a part of this trip and a part of my life. This experience would not be the same were it not for everyone’s personality, insight, excitement, humor and attitude. All these characteristics help to make the worst days the best ones. Today was one of those days.

Imagine, if you will, mountains. Imagine riding over them, on your bike. Now imagine 60 miles' worth of this activity. Unfortunately, even the most creative minds cannot fathom the intensity of such a ride. Your impressions of riding over mountains are inadequate. It’s like Socrates’ Allegory of the Cave. You can’t explain sunlight and real images to the cave-dwellers; much like you cannot recreate the pain and suffering of riding biking over (not through) the Adirondacks.

Unfortunately for the group, riding 60 miles of mountainous road was just the beginning. Around 2 pm, the most torrential downpour I have ever witnessed hit this earth. I was one of three people who did not get caught in this rain. The other 90 percent of the riders were still on the road looking for the campsite, or, if you were Arianna, Zach, Anson, Quang, or Jessie, just leaving lunch. Aside from riding 4 hours and 25 miles in such weather (and it rained the entire time), Anson was deliriously sick, Zach had 5 flats, and Quang was bandaged up more than a mummy (having suffered an injury the day before).

Can I just reiterate that everyone was riding up mountains in torrential downpour?

Another serious issue was a typo on the que sheets. Que sheets are basically direction sheets every rider carries with them on the road. The campsite we were planning to stay at could be reached by a country road turnoff before the town. When Kristen, Laura, and I reached the turnoff, we decided to go straight to town and relax as we preceded even the van. Those who made the turnoff (i.e. everyone else) were distressed to discover the directions were wrong (it was a right, not a left). The road dead-ended four miles later, about an hour’s worth of detouring for everyone involved.

When Ian, Penn, Dae, Kevin, Derrick, and Dan arrived in town around 3, we all went out to eat. At this point we still thought we were staying in tents that evening. Dan had the glorious idea to ask the local churches if we could stay in their basements. So after the meal we hit up the parishes. I say the word ‘parishes’ because both would not allow the boys and girls to sleep in the same building. Seriously? And this coming the night after Kate and Dae had been paired to room together at the resort at Silver Bay (Zach and I had also been paired together, but they thought we were married).

When everyone finally gathered at the Baptist Church around 6:30, the stories came out. Back around mile 15, John R. missed a turn and wound up riding 8 miles in the wrong direction. Isaiah, several hundred meters back, took off after him but failed to catch up as John was headed downhill. Both odometers read 75 miles by the end of the day (just as a point of reference, mine read 56). When John P. returned after the wrong turn on the que sheet, he took off in a huff ahead of Bobby and others. When something came off his bike and he had to turn around through the pouring rain and pick it up, he screamed, “Agh! I can’t even throw a tantrum correctly!” Ian walked into the convenience store and was invited to go mud sliding by a group of drunken locals. Back before lunch, Reed saw a sign for “Snowmobiling and Horseback Riding.” Jumping at his chance to hop on a horse, he stopped and rode around a mare named Freckles for a half hour and in the process brought a whole new meaning to the term “saddle sores.” The quote of the day came from Penn: “This rain is really doing a number on my Chuck E. Cheese’s stickers.”

Later in the evening the girls went off to the Methodist Church 4 blocks down the road. As I left, I recall seeing Isaiah conked out on the floor and Quang walking around in a purple towel draped like a toga. I hear some Britney Spears music was broken out after all the girls left. I know Kevin was leading that karaoke party.

Overall, the ride was awful. I must have gone through every expletive in my repertoire in making those climbs. But just the thought of Quang riding injured or Anson riding sick though those same hills hours later (and turns out their weather was infinitely worse than mine) was inspiration enough to get me through.

And despite being the worst day on record, I didn’t hear a single word of complaint from the riders. Instead, I just heard laughter.

Mrs. Hill?

Well I left off last night talking about my impending laundry duty; turns out there's another story to tell. Arianna and I came in to switch the loads from the washers to dryers. The chamois in one of the washers however did not seem very wet. We did what my mother likes to term the "sniff test." Unfortunately for us, we realized soon after sniffing that these chamois weren't clean. Turns out we never started that washer. God save us.

At dinner we had quite a bit of fun discussing ways to get back at the proprietors of the church at which we stayed. I can't go into specifics, but I was laughing for a straight hour; fortunately this is not an unusual occurrence on the trip.

This morning we had to bike out of the valley through Brandon pass. 2100 feet, baby. From there we went to Brandon and visited an outdoor market. I bought some soap, which, as you may have guessed, was much needed. The hills didn't stop however and we continued to the ferry crossing on Lake Champlain. The next 13 miles were the longest of the trip as the route was full of rolling hills and the day was stretching into mid-afternoon. But five miles from our destination, we realized (having been riding along Lake George and deducing from the title of our next destination, "Silver Bay") we would be staying in a resort town that night.

Well, resort town turned into an actual resort. Think the location in "Dirty Dancing." Yeah, that's where we're staying. We actually have rooms with beds. Besides that, there are a myriad of activities in which to partake: archery, sailing, kayaking, swimming, tennis, hiking, shuffleboard, etc. Most of us only got around to one or two activities. We all wish we were staying longer.

Our rooms are all doubles and the resort automatically paired people up. Someone seeing the names "Kathleen Hill" and "Zach Hill" assumed we were married and placed us in a room together. The two of us decided to have a "trial separation" however and I am now rooming with Kate.

Not much else to report other than amazingly fun times and gorgeous views of the lake. Maybe some sore legs too. Shazaam.

Fabreeze

First order of business: major shout-out to Mr. Lee, Craig's father. This afternoon, after the hardest hill I have ever ridden, I went to the post office excited at the prospect of mail. Alas, there was none for me. As I sat watching other kids with brownie- and cookie-laden care packages, something died within me. So I sat next to Craig for some vicarious letter love. But alas, in the last of Craig's letters (he had 3), there was a picture with Craig, his family, and Jay Leno. The post-it note read "for Kathy Hill." Thank you, Mr. Lee. I am framing this photo. Along with the post-it note.

Yeah, Bethel Mountain lived up to the hype. I planned to go up it without getting off my bike, but when my pulse hit 200 on the first major climb, I figured it might be a good idea to take a breather. But the bad stretch only lasted about a mile (i.e. 30 min); I really don't think it will be the worst day of the trip.

Upon arrival in town, I had lunch with the guys. Despite the pouring rain, we refused to enter the church as we had heard horror stories from Christopher about its proprietors. Apparently the church refused to host us (which was a problem since it's the only one in Rochester), citing a bad experience from last year's group (but seriously, how badly can you trash a church?). Anyways, the only way Christopher was able to secure a roof over our heads was to sign a waiver which would hold him financially responsible for any damages inflicted upon the area.

About 30 min. after loading our gear into the only room we were allowed into, a woman showed up wanting to speak to Christopher. She emphasized that the board of trustees would be coming through tomorrow to check the church over before we were allowed to leave. She was hands down the rudest person I had met on this trip until Christopher asked where the vaccuum was located. "Vaccuum" must have been the magic word, because after that she lightened up. Christopher informed us however that they had injected him with a poisonous serum, the antidote would only be given upon the immaculate return of the church. Perhaps we should call upon Jesus to help us with such an endeavor. That, and about 10 gallons of Fabreeze.

Which reminds me, funny quote of the day comes from John: "Dude, why didn't we get a sponsorship from Fabreeze?"

Looking forward to those care packages; please send clif bars. Right now, I'm off to clean everyone's dirty laundry. Chamois: shazaam.

Bethel

Bethel moutain, wha wha. That's all I've heard about since this trip began and I am surely ready to let this hill know who's boss. Apparently it's a six mile climb up some major pass and has been termed the hardest day of the trip. As long as I finish near the lead group and get some lunch, I expect to be fine.

The past several days we've spent in Lebanon building habitat houses. There hasn't been much to report other than the fact that Dad and Uncle Dave came through last night. We had dinner and I had to hear about their oh-so harrowing ride...on motorcycles. Staying in hotels. Eating out. What a rough trip.

Other than some other minor points, there simply hasn't been alot to report. I've some rather amusing pictures from the build sites and of the newly-painted trailer (compliments of Craig, Maki, and myself). Shazzam.

The Final Countdown

It's the third day of riding already and there is one fact that shocks me: everyone still has a good attitude. In fact, I would venture to say that the trip's members are happy...all the time.

The reason for my shock stems from several places. First off, mornings are early. The first riding day began at 5:30 a.m. Dan, wonderful trip leader that he is, woke everyone up with the trip's theme song: Final Countdown. The moment I heard it, I lept out of my sleeping bag and went streaking down the hall to form an impromptu dance party with Dan and Isaiah at the music's source. That pretty much embodied how excited we were.

My shock continued when, though the first ride was 65 miles over massive hills and some dirt road, there were no serious complaints. Everyone seemed to share a collective laugh about the day's trials. For one thing, everyone got lost at some point or another. I was riding with a group that didn't even get lunch. Brendan, who drove the van that day, decided to move the lunch spot back several miles. Unfortunately we had already gone by the new location and therefore missed it. By the time we had called Brendan, we were all of 12 miles from Concord, so we just pressed on. We wound up just laughing about it, drawing sad chalk faces and arrows pointing behind us reading "Lunch?"

I'm not gonna lie, I was exhausted after the first day. I thought for sure there were people who were not going to make it, but alas, everyone rode their bikes the whole way to the church.

I should also mention our wheel-dipping ceremony which occurred early that morning at a beach just outside Portsmouth. We dipped our back wheels in and when we reach Vancouver, we'll dip our front wheels in to finish the cycle.

Yesterday and today the rides continued in intensity. The hills are still fairly moderate; everyone keeps talking about some giant mountain we'll be climbing in a couple days. Bring it, I say. We did have some rain today which was fun but made for poor visibility and wet clothing later.

Right now we're staying in Lebanon, NH. Right now I'm in Dartmouth's library typing this out, ecstatic at the opportunity to use a computer. For all North Central people, I wondered whether I would see anyone I knew on campus and sure enough, about 20 min after I arrived in town I saw Marcus Gadson. He had no clue who I was. But he seems to have grown quite a bit. He's more...normal?

A last quick anecdote is our adventures at the laundromat yesterday. Laundry duty consists of gathering everyone's dirty clothes in two giant tarps: one for normal clothing and one for riding gear (i.e. chamois, pronounced 'shamies'). Okay, just to give all those unfamiliar with some of the more intimate details of riding: bicycle shorts (chamois) are worn without underwear. Most days you just wear the same pair to cut down on washing cycles. So, wrapping the two tarps tight like giant laundry burritos, we stuffed the stuff in the van and made our way to the laundromat. Now I have to hand it to the other members of my crew: what troopers. Arianna and Zach just dove their bare hands into those dirty chamois to stick them in the wash. I was not about to touch other people's dirty chamois directly. Give me some gloves and tweezers and maybe I'll do it. Better yet, get me a biohazard suit.

It didn't stop there. The washer with the chamois broke in the middle of the cycle, leaving us with a mountain of wet clothing. We then had to hand wring the entire load. Penn made a gorgeous comment: "I don't really feel as though I know a person unless I've wrung out their underwear with my bare hands." I laughed the entire afternooon.

Well I better get back to living; I promise pictures are forthcoming. I love the comments, keep them coming.

First Days

Be proud kids, I just took a shower. It's been 4 days, and in that period I completed a run, three bike rides, and 5 hours moving dirt. Shazaam.
But seriously, the trip thus far has already exceeded my expectations. Everyone is rocking my socks off, each having so many of their own crazy stories to tell that I expect no one will bat an eye at stories like Idaho or the Incident. Okay, well the Incident probably can't be topped; even by the guy who lives in Alaska (Anson), the girl who went to Swiss boarding school (Michelle), or or even our trip leader who did the Peace Corps in Senegal (Christopher). My favorite rider thus far is Craig, who deadpan sense of humor is priceless. When asked what riding experience he had, he replied, "Um, yeah, the ride around the parking lot when they assembled my bike 20 min. ago." And then last night a woman exclaimed, "I can't believe you're riding across the country!" Deadpan, Craig said: "Neither can we."
Right now I suspect I'm being qualified as that "ridiculous trash talker." It started the second someone busted out Scrabble. Unfortunately I couldn't dominate due to the number of people playing (4) and my abysmal luck in letter draws. It probably also didn't help that one of the guys playing did Scrabble tournaments in high school. I came in dead last. But I'm going to redeem myself with a win against Tournament Player.
As for what we're up to, well not too much at the moment. We've spent alot of time getting oriented and making last-minute shopping runs. Yesterday a couple other girls (Kimberly, Lindsay) and I rode to Portsmouth in our free time and spent the afternoon trollin' the the town. It was awesome being stopped by people on the streets asking what we were up to (mind, we all had our jerseys on and were walking around with our bikes). Today we spent time at a build site. Our group was in charge of spreading loam (dirt) over the yard. The work required shoveling dirt from 9ft. piles onto a lawn the size of a small football field. Needless to say, it's likely going to be a sore day tomorrow.
Riding starts in the morning, beginning with an opening ceremony where we dip our back wheels into the Atlantic (the front one will be dipped in the Pacific when we reach Vancouver). Tomorrow's ride is 65 miles.
I'll be posting pictures soon, including some of Portsmouth, rides, and Chuckee Cheese's (sp? which btw is conveniently located right next door to the church).

Upon arrival at the Nieman's (Wolfeboro, NH), I was delighted to find the bike already assembled by my engineering cousin. When asked if everyone got the same model bike, I told him I got the (S/s)pecialized female model. "Oh," said he, "that's why it's pink." Image my delight at the knowledge that my buiser bike, soon to put a hurtin' on even the best of this trip's riders, is pink. Girl power, for sure. And let's not forget this sentiment: Shazaam.

A note on the title

"Ridin' Dirty," as you may already be aware, is a play on the popular song of the same title.  While it in no way reflects my musical tastes, it does describe my penchant for debauchery.  Additionally, it hints to the inevitable hygenic downfalls I will experience over the next 4,000 miles.  Forboding, I know.  But I can assure you we'll all have a laugh over it...someday.