Bike Ride From Hades

Today I discovered the stats section of my blog. I can look at a map that shows me where people looking at my blog are, by country. I was under the impression that my parents, sister and maybe an aunt ready my blog.

I was flummoxed to discover that people from Canada, Australia and Denmark have read my blog. Also four people from Tunisia. I’m not sure where that is, but now I have to research it. And Luxembourg. I hope you people are enjoying my adventures.

It would be shocking to learn that I can make people outside my family laugh. Another thing that baffles me is: how in the world do you find MY blog? I’m certainly not advertising. All I can say is WOW.

Today’s Exploit:

During my holiday my dad decided we needed to go on a bicycle ride. Every night we’d say we should go the next day. But somehow it didn’t happen to nearly the last day. We finally got it together and went riding. Probably the only thing that got me back to the truck was the idea of homemade waffles.

We drove into the mountains and found a nice deserted dirt road that said: Dead End Ahead. Hoping that it was more that .173 miles to the dead end we got the bikes out and hopped on.

After .073 miles the road turned to a two track. (A little trail that has seen some four wheeling vehicles, but not safe for Mom’s Subaru or my baby Civic.) It was then that I found the first patch of sand. Sand is very difficult to ride in. The tires slide all over, and I have absolutely no control over direction. Rather like hydroplaning or sliding on ice.

But I made it through and went on to the first hill. This hill was nearly never-ending, and steep. I think we rode that way for 81.3 miles. We got to the top only to discover another hill, not quite as long, but covered in loose rocks. Rocks are just as treacherous as sand, and much more intimidating. I made it to the top to discover a fence, then a ridge that I had no desire to traverse. Maybe if I had rock climbing gear.

We turned around and went back down the scary, rocky hill to a fork in the road. We followed the fork to an even steeper, longer hill. We rode down that hill, through sand and rocks and ruts and side slopes until my hands were about to fall off from holding the breaks so tight. That hill was 103.8 miles long.

Then came the fun part. We got to turn around and go back up the mountain to get to the truck. It took me a long time to get started because I’m one of the biggest scaredy-cats anyone will ever meet on a bicycle. (I have scars to validate my reasons.) I had to find just the right place to get enough momentum to get my foot into the toe-clip, but not slide sideways into a ravine.

I finally got started and managed to ride 51.8 miles up the side of the cliff before my legs and lungs gave out. (I think it takes at least 47 days to get used to the altitude after living at sea level for most of a year.) The only thing that got me started again was the prospect of waffles.

This time I only made it .87 miles before I came to a slope that was covered with a combination of sand and rocks, and was nearly upside down it was so steep. So I decided to try to walk it. Unfortunately by this time my legs were approximately the consistency of warm rubber. I could hardly stand. But somehow I forged forward and made it up the hill. I even got my bike up there with me.

I finished the last 387 miles on the bike since it wasn’t quite as steep. I finally got to go down a gentle slope (it was much steeper on the way up) only to land in the most massive sand pit yet. I nearly ran into a forest of thistles, but stopped in the nick of time.

I dragged myself the last 3 miles to flop in the truck and ride back like an abused rag doll. I dreamt of waffles the whole way. They would be heavenly, with buttermilk and homemade chokecherry syrup. It’s one of the most amazing breakfasts in the world. Who cares that it was 1:30 pm by the time we got home?

And they were amazing and delicious. And I’ll dream of them for years.

The bad part was that my parents made me cook them in my state of soft, pliable rubber. Possibly by that point I was the consistency of Jello.