Day 2 Stockholm, Sweden It was 2:43 and I was awake. I managed to close my eyes until 3:47, listening to Aunt Terrye’s soft snoring. Then I just stared out the glass doors of our cabin on the cruise ship, past the balcony, past the mirrored water, past the amusement park with all the roller coastery rides, and on into the black night. I thought and thought and thought some more, all snuggly and warm Read more…
Day 1 Knoxville to Atlanta: The mud smeared around. I tried some more to wipe it from the air vent on the plane with my little disinfectant wipe. More mud. Nasty-germy-mess. No touching. I watched some germ-ball kid squeal, pull his hand out of his mouth, turn his air vent with slimy fingers, and put his hand right back in his mouth. He’ll be sick by tomorrow. So will the poor guy who sits there Read more…
You were snoring so sweetly I didn’t have the heart to wake you up, Jennie said. She had half her stuff packed and coffee brewing. She hadn’t slept well, and then she had a flat tire before we even left camp. It was hot, and Jennie wasn’t feeling it. We took a right – up a quiet highway toward the wild burro preserve. We spotted an old stone building way out there, and sort of Read more…
My zippers didn’t line up. My sleeping bag had a left-sided zipper and my bivy sack had a right-sided zipper. And when I woke up and had to super-duper-pee in the darkness, I couldn’t figure out how to get out of it all. I tried and failed a few times and thrashed around and finally figured it out. It was cold so I covered my bedding up again to try to keep some heat in Read more…
It was 2am. The thermometer said it was 64 degrees. I shivered my way under another blanket on the couch. We didn’t prepare for cold. Mom, we’re going to die of hypothermia, I said in the morning. She smiled and handed me a stack of her polar fleece clothes – enough for the two of us. With the gear in the car we left the house, by golly, at 8. We stopped at Starbucks and Read more…
Day 5 29.94 miles Mom pulls a pair of pliers out of her purse to help her clasp her Fitbit to her wrist. Can’t reach it otherwise, she says. We draw a giant heart on the beach and write VD in the middle and make our bikes kiss each other because it’s Victory Day and because we are like fifteen-year-olds who think VD is really funny. We make mom take pictures until she thinks it’s Read more…
Day 4 23.20 miles I wandered outside in my bare feet to check the weather. The ground was wet but it wasn’t raining. My feet, splash-splash-splashing in the puddles. My toes, white with cold. Once on the road, it rained on us a little bit. Misty but not bad. Not too serious. To save pulling out the maps nineteen times an hour, we just decided to count how many bodies of water we went over, Read more…
Day 3 43.7 miles The rain is coming. The ARK. We’d registered ourselves online as visitors to Camp Pendleton. My Dad was stationed there back in boot camp when he was a Young Pup. The directions were very clear. We had to register ahead of time and bring a government-issued ID to be allowed access on our bike route through the base. Very, very serious stuff. A line of cars at the gate. Marines in Read more…
Day 2 35.41 miles Mom dropped us off at the bike path and took more photos while we grinned our faces off. We talked as we rode and friendly strangers gave us directions when we hadn’t even asked. We rode into La Jolla on our trusty steeds and glided into a dreamy neighborhood. One home, a Tuscan Villa. Another, some Greek-looking-something with giant columns out front. One straight out of ancient fairy tales with a Read more…
Day 1 29.63 Miles Mom drives us miles down the dirt road toward the U.S./Mexican border. We fiddle with our gear and pose in front of a sign for photos until an official-looking person comes over to tell us not to ride to the border. Human-Contaminated-Sewage, he says. Don’t get anywhere near any water. No Touching. We smile and nod and think about it and then head down to the border. He wasn’t kidding. The Read more…