6/30/2022 0 Comments Fast moving ColoradoThe day of my gravel road crash, I spent a lot of time on the phone with various friends and family trying to decide my next move and route west. After much mental anguish and deliberation, I came to the conclusion that I will pack up my bike and drive to Denver, Colorado, where my aunt and uncle live. This was not an easy decision to make, but it was the necessary one. 95-115F temps in Nebraska. Soaring temperatures in the west – the state of Colorado was telling people not even to go outside to mow their lawns. Residual wildfire smoke from Arizona. That’s definitely too hot for me to safely bike. I made a second decision to make the decision on the rest of my trip west when I was in Denver. People who bike around the world skip whole countries out of safety, and others who have attempted a similar route to mine have been stopped before due to high heat / wildfires. Kayla so kindly drove me to the Lincoln Airport, where I picked up a rental car. The stars aligned with pride month and the rental agency gave me a sweet Subaru Outback. I wasn’t worried about the price of the rental, because it was equivalent to the amount of money I would have spent on camping/motel/food/etc in 2 weeks biking across Nebraska – instead spending it in two days. 2 cups of coffee and 7 ½ hours later, driving across the whole state of Nebraska and half of Colorado, I was in Denver. It was an easy drive; I like driving and vibing to music. Absolutely screamed along to every one of Xana’s songs on her new album “Tantrums.” Very therapeutic. I didn’t admit it to myself when I was driving, but I subconsciously made my decision on the rest of my ride to Oregon. And even now, typing this in Wisconsin, it hurts to say: I stopped my ride. At this time, I’m not riding to Oregon. It’s too hot out west. Biking 1700 miles alone takes a mental toll. I’m lonely. I’m ready to go home. I am at ease with my decision since it is more from extraneous forces rather than my legs giving out. The friends and family I break the news to are relieved and supportive of my decision. My aunt and uncle are elated that I’m spending a week with them in Denver. While in Denver, we get ice cream, go hiking, take a visit to urgent care, go hiking again, visit urgent care once again, walk around the Denver Zoo, and root for the Avs in the Stanley Cup final vs Tampa Bay. It turns out that the badbraska (thanks, Bronte for coining that term and now I’m stealing it) dirt has extra special bacteria and my road rash required three (3) types of antibiotics because it wasn’t healing. To conclude my week in Denver, I buy an Amtrak train ticket to Chicago to get back to the Midwest. My Mom would drive to a connecting train station just south of the Illinois/Wisconsin border to pick me up. On paper, my ride on the California Zephyr going east was 19 hours. The train was 3 hours late arriving in Denver, and 2.5 hours late arriving in Chicago – resulting in Eryn booking it through the Chicago Union Station to get a ticket for the Metra and narrowly missing the train to my pick-up location. As my journey across the United States comes to an end, I want to say thank you for everyone who has followed along, given me words of encouragement, and helped me while on the road. I couldn’t have done it without you. Don’t worry – I’m not finished posting about my trip yet. There’ll be gear reviews, best state parks list, and ranking of states, to name a few 😊
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6/27/2022 0 Comments High hopes for NebraskaI definitely had high hopes for Nebraska. My ride from Waubonsie State Park in Iowa to my cousin’s house in Lincoln Nebraska was largely uneventful. I crossed the Missouri River for the final time on bicycle. I took a picture with the “Welcome to Nebraska” sign. Biked on another busy road. Temperature wasn’t too hot. Legs felt good. Went on a detour with no detour signs. Made it to Kayla’s before she had to go to work. It was awesome seeing Kayla again. I planned to take a rest day in Lincoln to get my bike into a bike shop, hang out with my cousin, rest my legs, and plan the rest of my route. I took my bike, dear Rory, into Cycle Works in Lincoln for a much-needed new tire and derailleur adjustment. My standards for bike shops are pretty low – and this bike shop was very cool. The guys in the shop were super helpful. Immediately they gave me multiple rear gravel tires to choose from – and before I knew it my bike was getting work done. I took this time to walk around the bike shop and look at all the expensive bikes and gear. There was a pink women’s salsa gravel bike that sparked my interest. The price tag made me cough. It was $5,500. It was a beautiful bike, but I’m not sure if I could ever justify spending that much on a bike. As I buy new/used outdoor gear as needed, I’m trying to get my items as colorful and obnoxious as possible. There were bright colored flat pedals. They were awesome. When Kayla got home, we visited the bison bison at Pioneers Park. We said hi to the bison and told them what we’ve been up to. Nebraska heat is no joke. On my rest day, I was getting messages from concerned friends and family regarding the Nebraska and general out west heat of the Colorado/Wyoming/Idaho area. I took their concerns into consideration, determined to make my way to Oregon. As I planned my route across Nebraska, I stuck to the side roads next to I-80 where there were campgrounds, gas stations, and people. I planned shorter days, because even though it’s flat, it’s super hot. - - - spoiler alert: tw: blood & road rash - - - (press the read more button below) 6/25/2022 0 Comments Snippet of IowaMy trip into Iowa was short lived. Nothing bad happened, I just biked exactly 20 miles in Iowa. Looking on the map, I biked a very, very, very small portion of Iowa. It's kind of funny, and that’s okay. Iowa was the 6th state I biked through. Although it might have been easy enough to go straight from Missouri to Nebraska, I decided to head further north into Iowa because of the campground. I didn’t have the energy to stealth camp, so campgrounds or motels it was. Waubonsie State Park in Iowa was essentially on the Iowa/Missouri border and the Iowa/Nebraska border, a win-win situation! The Iowa State Parks website was a little misleading – reservations aren’t made through the State, they’re made through recreation.gov, the same site used for federal campgrounds. I did not know that, and I was surprised when the Iowa SP site my email was already being used. Got it all figured out. Waubonsie State Park was cute. Scattered around the park, carved from tree stumps, were a turtle, Smokey bear, and an eagle to name a few. There were lots of caterpillars and bugs on my tent. I laid down in my tent and forced myself to stretch my legs before making dinner. My ride from Big Lake in Missouri to Waubonsie was physically easy but felt mentally taxing. I was tired and lonely and hungry and lonely. I forced myself to walk to the overlook to see this famed view and stretch my legs. Reviews on google say that people flock to the overlook to watch the sunset. I didn’t go at sunset, and I had the overlook all to myself. It was indeed cool. In the middle of the flats of the beginning of middle America, there was the Loess Hills. Would have been cooler with a friend. Iowa was short lived, but I hope to go back one day for the “Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa” 6/24/2022 0 Comments Part 2: MissouriBefore I recount Missouri post-Katy Trail, there's one story that's too good to pass up & can be used as a reference for a later encounter. My last night camping on the Katy Trail, the same evening Brontë and I watched the sunset. Around 2am I woke up to a sound only belonging to a raccoon rummaging through empty beer cans and a full garbage bag that was left outside by the site across from me. A few minutes later as I am trying to fall back asleep, I hear sniffing around the vestibule with my shoes. Me, knowing it's just a raccoon, I turn on my flashlight and tell it to go away (it does). Half hour it's back and sniffing, but on the other vestibule with my flat-rate package of food from Michigan (I know food isn't supposed to be so close to my tent but ... you probably would have done the same thing if you were out there). Again, I turn on my flashlight and tell him to go bother someone else. This raccoon decides to be bold and I see a singular paw reach under my vestibule and touch my box of food. I shake my tent, the raccoon is gone but the paw print remains. They didn't bother the campground for the rest of the night. I said goodbye to the Katy Trail in Sedalia and headed for the Missouri State Fairgrounds Campground. This campground was indeed a fairgrounds campground. Much better than the one I stayed at in Hartford, Kentucky. The electrical box didn't catch on fire! The bar is set so low. Surprisingly, I still felt alive after my longest ride of the trip so far - 70 miles. A shower, campground wide wifi, and $12 overnight fee helped. As I head west, the nicer people are. I was invited by the site next to me & fellow tent campers to a cold Gatorade. Regina and Bryan were refreshingly outdoorsy and beyond nice to talk to. Thanks for the Gatorade!! Missouri State Parks were gold star worthy starting with the Katy Trail State Park. Annie and Abel Van Meter State Park was no different. The park was so green and beautiful. Mac n cheese for dinner. Sorta cleaned my Mac n cheese cooking pot. Placed as much food as possible in my bear canister. Moved bear canister and Mac n cheese cooking pot outside of my site and farther away from my tent. I wake up at 1am to an animal walking through my site. You might be saying, Eryn, you can sleep through anything - thunderstorms, parties, people falling off bunk beds - but you woke up to ... sounds of an animal walking through grass?? That is correct. Your guess is as good as mine. ANYWAYS: I knew instantly this visitor wasn't a raccoon. My gut feeling said that it was a bear. I heard this animal walk and I swear I heard snorting and grunting. I forced myself to remain calm. Because like printers, bears can probably smell fear. I plugged my ears because if I can't hear it, there's nothing scary out there. Grass being pushed into the topsoil. The ting of my Mac n cheese cooking pot moving against rocks. The thud of my bear canister moving on soft earth. The very sudden realization of the food in every pannier and in my tent next to me. I am a soft taco with salsa. I heard the animal visit the RVer's site next to me - knocking a garbage bag off the bear hook. They were a crunchy taco. I found my headphones in the dark and put country music on Spotify with a 15 minute sleep timer and I was out before Maren Morris could finish singing; asleep until I woke up at 6am and excited to see the damage done. I was as excited as a kid on their birthday. I gingerly walked around my site scouring the ground for paw prints. The Mac n cheese cooking pot was unharmed. The bear canister was muddy, toppled, and moved 20ft. I couldn't find any paw prints, but there were sort of large and spread out claw marks in the mud. Once again, with evidence, I ruled out raccoons and their lil hands. I made a beeline for the garbage bag-pulled off-bear-hook RVer when I saw they were cleaning up. "Mornin'," I say as the RVer walks over to me with an inquisitive look. "What do ya think got into your garbage last night?" "Raccoon." He says crossing his arms. "Are you ... sure? How could a raccoon get your garbage bag off the hook? I think it was a bear." "Nope it wasn't a bear. Oh raccoons can get big," bringing his hand up to mid-thigh like you might reference how tall a toddler is, "and when they stand on their hind legs, they can reach -" "Yeah, but I heard this thing walking and breathing, I say cutting him off "I was visited by raccoons the other night and this was a totally different sound." "Look, I'm from here and there's no bears here. They're all further north. If they ventured this far south the DNR would be tracking them and ready to take them away." I didn't bother arguing because it wasn't worth it. I already had my evidence that it was a bear: claw marks, the fact that the garbage was off the bear hook, hearing walking, and grunts/huffing/snorting. I recounted my experience and interaction with the RVer to a few people. They all said the same thing: That guy kept saying it was a raccoon because he was scared that a bear had actually visited. That guy was a crunchy taco in his hard-sided teardrop camper. I was the one with soft walls who would have been in danger. Someone better call National Geographic to tell them that raccoons make new sounds. Pershing State Park was not nearly as exciting. It turns out I'm amazing at picking sites online, because I picked one in full sun and next to the highway. My tent was 20ft away from the two lane zoom zoom paved road that lead to the entrance of the park. A) poor campground planning, and B) poor site choice for me. Pershing was by no means full - especially in the primitive loop - I could have switched sites if I had asked the campground host. I rather chose to live with the consequences of my actions and unofficially occupied two sites. As in, all my stuff was on my registered site - but I journaled, talked on the phone, and cooked dinner in the shade of the site next to me. From Pershing State Park, it was essentially a straight shot to Cameron, Missouri. Huge but manageable hills that gave enough momentum to propel me up three quarters of the next hill. At a motel in Cameron, I took a rest day. Well-deserved after 366 miles of biking in 7 days from St. Louis. This rest day was actually a zero day. Zero miles and pretty close to zero steps. Only left my room to check out the complimentary breakfast and steal a bagel. I ate food while lounging on my bed while watching a muted HGTV and playing Xana Radio on Spotify. You know, questioned my whole ride and allowed myself to wallow and miss friends and home. From Cameron, it was a three day route to Lincoln, Nebraska with one final Missouri State Park campsite planned. Lincoln was my next big stop - staying with my cousin Kayla. My ride to Big Lake State Park held an important milestone that some wouldn't celebrate: my first flat tire. Picture this: Eryn blindly following google maps and strangers in gas stations saying the next road I'm taking is paved. Turning on to Co Rd T - it's paved. Then gravel. And back to pavement. The all too familiar feeling of metal grinding on pavement brings me to a stop and I'm grinning like a maniac. There's no use throwing a fit, this was bound to happen. Correlation isn't causation - my rear tire is wore down and threadbare at this point. Otherwise, my ride was going smoothly, my legs felt great, and it was still early in the day. You betcha I was giggling to myself as I unclipped everything, flipped over my bike, and got a handful of grease when removing my rear wheel. I learned how to change a bike tire days before my flight to Virginia. I channeled the memory from Michigan and even surprised myself with how fast the process went. As I was reaching for my bike pump, the farmer whose driveway I was next to pulls up in his Polaris. "So ... what are you doing? Are you okay?" "Oh yeah, I'm fine, my bike's not though. Got a flat and I'm just about to pump the tire." The farmer was astounded to say the least, that I already had the new tube on the rim and ready for air. Like a true person in rural America, he had been watching the cyclist stopped on the road from his house before checking on them. He offered to drive me and my tire to the air compressor in his barn, of which I agreed to. There were no stranger danger vibes from this man, only kindness. And another roadblock. My tires have presta valves rather than the more common Schrader valves. He had never seen the long presta valve before, ergo didn't have an adapter for the air compressor. I had been procrastinating buying a presta/Schrader adapter, and this sealed the deal, at the next opportunity I was going to buy one. In true farmer fashion, he jerry-rigged a similar yet different adapter with a large rubber band and managed to fill the tire to 60 psi. Godsend. Would have taken me at least a half hour to fill the tire with my tiny bike pump and it wouldn't have gotten anywhere near 60 psi. Instead, I had a full tire and a 45 minute turnaround time. From living in Michigan and close to the Great Lakes, we are spoiled with water sources. For the rest of the Untied States, I need to lower my expectations of rivers and lakes. Big Lake was ... big for the area. Murky. This state park was essentially empty as well, and I picked a site in the shade of a sycamore tree. The next morning: my sights set on Iowa. 6/18/2022 0 Comments Part 1: MissouriMissouri was fun to explore on multiple levels. From St. Louis with Brontë, to the Katy Trail and following the Lewis and Clark Expedition route along the Missouri River.
In St. Louis, I took an extra rest day to avoid the holiday crazies (Memorial Day weekend). Brontë and I wandered around Union Station, Build-A-Bear, and IKEA. I had never been to Build-A-Bear, and in dire need for a friend on my trip. There were so many options! After much deliberation, I picked a light brown original bear & named her Louisa. We went to Build-A-Bear first, so for the rest of the day, we carried her with us :) In the free portion of the aquarium, we learned about watersheds and our carbon footprints. From there, we got back on the metro and stopped at IKEA to wander around. Also, this was my first time at IKEA - pretty cool store. And their swedish meatballs are as good as people rave about them. We listen to a combined 3 hours of podcast episodes on Bats while sitting in the AC, based on a conversation the night before. From the Ologies Podcast with Alie Ward, Chiropterology (BATS) with Dr. Merlin Tuttle, was amazing as always. I've been listening to Ologies podcast episodes for a couple years now, and every single one had held my attention. Alie Ward does a great job of researching each subject, presenting the cold hard facts, and sprinkling in jokes to keep the information fun and relatable. Chiropterology was no different. We learned that most of the chatter high frequency microphones pick up in caves is simply gossip. Bats eat hundreds and thousands of bugs each night. You're more likely to get rabies from your dog than a bat - and no, they're not aggressive creatures. Bats can be trained. Some species can live for 40+ years. I'm now bats for bats ;) After St. Louis, I make my way west across the Missouri River for the first time. It was just one of the many times I crossed the river. I decided to take the Katy Trail across Missouri, and I'm so so glad I did. The Katy Trail is indeed a hard packed clay/pea gravel trail. It is open to biking and walking with horse allowed segments. The KT had some road crossings, but mostly went through public and private property. This took me a little bit to figure out, but the trail itself is a state park. The trail and 10ft on either side was state park property. On my first day on the KT I passed through Defiance, Missouri. There's a photo of my all-time favorite cyclist, Juliana Buhring, doing a similar pose with her bike and the Defiance road sign. Before looking at the Missouri state map, I had thought that Defiance was somewhere else in the world on one of Juliana's endurance races, not here in the US. I was on the KT trail, so I didn't pass the MODOT sign Juliana used, but this one worked as well. Defiance to the heteronormative, patriarchal, capitalistic, and consumerism society we're forced to participate in. Defiance to those who said my solo trip across the US wasn't practical. Defiance to my own brain, who on occasion, questions everything I've been doing since Virginia. Defiance to be me and not care what other people think. Defiance to blaze my own path and what is meant to be will be. The KT mostly followed the Missouri River across, and thus the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Me, still a nerd about history, took breaks to read historical markers on the trail and at trailheads. It astounded me and continues to that the Lewis and Clark Expedition paddled on the same river I biked next to - we saw the same water, we saw the same sunsets and sunrises, we saw the same bluffs and caves. At one trailhead, there was a map with a timeline of the Corps of Discovery's stops and ~ fun events west and then back east on the Missouri River. Here's one event that stuck out to me: "May 23, 1804: TAVERN CAVE, Clark explores Indian pictographs inside tavern cave. Lewis falls 20 feet down a 300-foot-tall bluff, but saves himself." Along the Katy Trail, I was able to up my mileage. Flat gravel and shade is the perfect combination. Along the trail, there were signs letting you know what towns were approaching and what amenities they held. I chose to camp each night at campgrounds along the Katy Trail. On the first night of camping on the KT, I was the only camper in my particular loop. I, myself am particular, I will talk to other people - I won't be straight up anti-social, but after so long on the road, I'm tired of talking to strangers and yearn to talk to people I already know. So, I was totally okay with being the only one in my loop. There were bat boxes on poles in the campground - pretty cool to see them in action after leaning about them! My second night camping on the KT, I met two other guys who were biking the KT to simply scope out the trail for part of a race - the nonstop from Oregon to DC. Third night camping I ended up at a campground that had local and live music. Lots of people were there, but not many campers. Due to holiday mail traffic, my food resupply box from Michigan arrived at Brontë's after I had already left. I gave her two options: mail it ahead of me, or drive it out to the campground. Ten text messages later and 2.5 hours of driving for Brontë, I now had a friend to hang out with and more 'free' food. We listened to the music from afar and watched the sun go down on the river. A beautiful evening. My last day on the Katy Trail was the longest. 75 miles, and I experienced my first hills of Missouri. The KT is not an accurate representation of the topography of Missouri, as it follows the old Katy Railroad - a rails to trails design - and is flat. I stopped at Lewis and Clark Cave alongside the trail. I did not enter the cave because it was on private property, and endangered gray bats use the cave as a summer roost. (See, the bats are following me at this point!!) As we acknowledged in Illinois, caves can't be in anything else but rock; and this cave was in the Missouri limestone bluffs. Bluffs were straight up and there were more little cracks/caverns where bats could fit and live. Also present on the bluffs above Lewis and Clark Cave were remains of Native American pictographs. From what I remember, the trailhead sign did not mention a specific Tribe. Something is better than nothing, but still not enough. Further down on the bluff, a former explosives storage bunker from the MTK railroad is built into the limestone, also now on private property. Between Booneville and Pilot Grove is Lard Hill. The legend of Lard Hill is as iconic-pioneer woman-power move as they come. "According to local legend, the hill was named after a Katy train killed a woman's pig but refused to pay her more than $5. To receive justice, she melted down the fat of the pig into lard. Each morning for weeks afterward, she and her children covered the tracks along the grade with the lard, forcing trains to slip and skate uphill. Needless to say, the railroad gave in and made full compensation." (Quote from Booneville Trailhead sign). The KT Booneville Trailhead was right next to a visitors center. I went inside to see if they had Katy Trail stickers (no, but they had fridge magnets). I grabbed a Missouri State Map, and placed a pin on Newberry and signed their guest book. I put us on the map! I was really and truly there in middle of Missouri. A few miles past Lard Hill, I crossed Clear Creek. This was indeed a clear creek, and the first to not look like chocolate milk that I've passed in my trip. History wise on the KT I was more focused on the Lewis and Clark Expedition, but this [[[]translucent/transparent ]] water source really caught my eye. "During the Civil War, Clear Creek was a camp site during a march of Union Gen. Nathaniel Lyon and 2,400 troops." (Quote from Clifton City Trailhead sign). Time knows no bounds and the forest had recovered from the war and a sharp increase of people inhabiting the creek. |
Author: Eryn corinthCyclist. Feminist. Outdoor enthusiast. Tree hugger. Archives
October 2022
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