BLIZZARD!!!!!!

I found these beautiful trees on my walk this morning
Snowplows have been running very long shifts
This morning (the ill-defined snowbank in the foreground is at least knee deep)
Road last night
Greenery out front (pre 17-inches)
Yesterday evening's view through my neighborhood

WAAAHOOOOOOO!!!!!! Man, snow is fun. 17.5 inches of snow is really fun. The university is shut down. The city (and busses) are shut down. The state of Wisconsin is shut down (no school anywhere). This ginormous storm system rolled in from the west, split, and covered the entire state with crazy amounts of snow. The poor snow plow guys have been going since last night, and while the main thoroughfares are open, the neighborhood roads were great for cross-country skiing. Whenever I finally woke up this morning, I threw on some snow pants, and I've been going ever since. I walked around the neighborhoods (down the middle of the roads), built a rather insignificant snowman (big for Emory, pitiful when compared to what the neighborhood kids have going), attempted XC skiing for the first time (rather successfully, even if I did look ridiculous figuring it out), and then caught up with C from my program for a lovely snow-bank-climbing, knee-deep-drift-wading, absolutely-exhilarating walk through the neighborhoods and (eventually) to the grocery store. My snow boots work great, I'm pumped for the possibility of skiing on a groomed trail later this week, and I am officially worn out. No skiing pics since I tried that alone, and the other pics aren't the best quality since the sun stayed hidden most of the day. Hopefully, I'll have some solutions to those problems by the time I head south.

Thundersnow

We've had a few snows now. One in October, perhaps two in November, and several this week. The past few days I've watched as the national weather service has issued winter storm watches, warnings, and, to my amusement, "society-impacting" blizzard warnings. I've sat by the windows watching flakes serenely drift downwards, and I've spent time tromping across slippery walks to and from bus stops. Last night, I feverishly set a spiriling path through our glistening front yard, occasionally drifting back to my car in the driveway for a fresh glovefull of snow to eat. This afternoon, I watched the sixth inch of snow land. (We've had more, but it seems a fair amount has be claimed by the mud, salt, sand, and occasional sun.)
But tonight. Oh, tonight was wonderful. As I went about my evening ritual, I paused for a moment to check the snow accumulation. The street lamp across the road illuminated the tunnel of bare deciduous trees that line the drive, all covered with a thick glaze of powder. The road itself was barely defined, a tumbling tread and a snow bank near the far curb. Where plenty of green was visible on the hedges around dinner time, there now remains a lumpy white rectangle. The evergreens near houses are coated, suitable for storybook illustrations. And all is quiet. The snowplows have surrendered, and the only li k to any sort of reality is the out-of-place but ever-important street light. How else could I see the wonderland that exists past my window?
And out of this peaceful surreality, a clap of thunder. Thundersnow. That was in the predictions. All the serenity of snow with the sheer power of a storm. A wind picks up. The trees shake their ghost-arms, yet the snow stays firmly upon the limbs. Perhaps it even glings stubbornly, with an air of rebellion against the storm. The breeze continues, more softly. While the ghost-arms wave gently now, deciduous branches give off small puffs of their white cover. The evergreens keep their blankets tight around them. The world I'm visiting is broken by the movement, the snow no longer calm. Still, I take one last draw from the filled-up, covered-over, pushed-aside world. With that, I rest

And this is why it's a good thing that I never got into creative writing.

Governor Dodge

This is what Wisconsin looks like

Really now, where would you expect to find me?
Stephens Falls from the Top

Awesomeness

A- after some awesome vine swinging
T- before we started the second hike
View From the Rim (fuzzy, sorry)
Also from the rim

What a trek. So T-, A-, and I all headed over to Governor Dodge State Park (one of the larger ones with more miles of trails) today. We were planning a 6-8 mile jaunt through the woods, and while we got our jaunt, I'm guessing it was closer to 18 miles. Pretty much all of the trails were sidewalk-width, and there were surprisingly few rocks and roots along the way. The trees have lost all their leaves, but that made it pretty easy to see down into and out of the canyon. It also made it an excellent crunchy-leaf hike. :) We took the Lost Canyon Trail first, hiked along the rim of the canyon for a bit, and then came down the far mouth of the canyon. There's a tiny (if peaceful) stream inside, some amazing-looking rock along the sides, and plenty of rocks/logs to clamor around on just off the trail. That 8ish miles took us just over (maybe just under) 2 hours, so we took our lunch at Stephens Falls. It may not be the most majestic falls (granted, we haven't exactly had a ton of rain lately), but it was a fun spot. When it warms up, I fully intend to frolic in the pool at its base and get as far behind the falls as possible. I half-heartedly tried the latter today and got moderately wet. Once thoroughly cold, we packed up the food, and decided to head off on the Outer Horse Trail (which might actually be more rugged than the hiking/skiing trail was). Once out a little on the Outer loop, we decided to go for a OHT to Goldmine Trail to Meadow Valley to Woodland to OHT loop that brushed against the part of the canyon we had seen, hit a lake we had missed earlier, and then criss-crossed in and out of the gorge a few more times coming back. (A- theorizes that we crossed the canyon about 6 times today.) I must admit my legs are pretty worn out, but I also must admit that I feel soooo much better since getting outside. It was an awesome day to do a hike; I had some awesome company; and we got some awesome food and margaritas post-hike.

Bonus Question: We saw a lot of these purple brambles along the trail (with a fine, light purple coating I assume is some kind of natural yeast). What are they?

Chilly Wolf

Over Halloween, I headed up to the Wolf River (sections 2 and 3) for some awesome paddling. The forecast was for cold and blustery weather, and though we left Madison with some balmy weather, it did get cold pretty quickly. I left my camera behind, so you'll just have to take my word for everything. I caught a ride up with another Madison kayaker, and we got to Bear Paw (pretty cool boater hangout) somewhat late Friday night. The wind was kicking, so I camped out in a friend's truck rather than trying to set my tent up, and at 2 in the morning when the wind started pushing the car around like mad, I was quite happy to be well-sheltered. Though it took a while, I eventually passed out. Woke up the next morning to driving snow (and lots of it) and headed over to the local restaurant in White Lake (just outside of the National Forest). It was bicyclist heaven - ginormous pancakes, excellent eggs, good coffee, and lots and lots of really cheap food. The snow was on-again off-again post breakfast, which meant that after standing around for upwards of an hour at the put in, I was cold and wet. There were tons of canoeists looking quite cozy in their drysuits. At least they were taking their precious time getting ready as though it was a lovely summer day. The water level was double that which I tried back in September, and while it did make a lot of places significantly easier (fewer rocks to avoid/less picking your way through boulder gardens), it still didn't provide much of a current on the flats. And man, there were some flats. Think 6 rapids and 14-18 miles of water. Yup. It was pretty painful.
First day was Section 3 (full version). The rapids were more fun with water, but toward the end, I was getting pretty hypothermic, wasn't thinking well, and flipped by being stupid. Luckily the swim was on the very last rapid, so I got dry and warm quickly. Second day was Section 2 (also full version), and I have to say, I am not a fan. Short 2 and 3 are definitely the way to go. (I'm also tempted to see the Dells of Section 4 now.) Also, complements of Connie, I have the Northern Wisconsin Natural History Lesson of the Day. Rivers in N Wisc are supposed to look black if they're healthy (and the Wolf does look eerily black). The coloration comes from all the tannins that leach into the water from the fallen leaves. It's a kinda cool phenomenon.
Next boating adventure may not be until spring :( However, I have been promised cross country skiing by a classmate. Woot.

Wisconsin Adventurin'

Gearin' up

Bony, eh?

So, after I finished up my last rotation (yes, I know that was a month ago), I rewarded myself with some pretty fun whitewater up in the middle-to-northern part of the state. Caught up with some Sierra Clubbin' folk (Can you see John Muir at a dance party? Cause I can.) and some Mad-City Paddlers and hit the Wolf (best of section II and III - aka a few good rapids, a car-portage, and a few more good rapids) and the Red Rivers. We camped out at some National Forest campsite that had some killer lakeside sunsets and crazy-tough tent sites.

Lakeside sunset (there was a wider view, it wasn't as pretty)

Patchwork

We showed up at the campground late Friday night, and I bent something like 4 stakes before giving up and doing a crappy I-hope-this-stays-balanced set up of my definitely-non-freestanding tent. Oh, and it was cold and rainy Friday, too. Thankfully, my tent stayed up and my sleeping bag was warm enough. Saturday, we hit the Wolf sections, which were below suggested flow. I think about half my boat is still stuck to the rocks up there. Perhaps it was the low water, but these rivers just don't have much when compared to my beloved southeast. AW claims some III+ rapids exist on the sections we ran, but there would have to be substantially more water than there was. Anyhoo, we had plenty of pool in the pool-drop water, but the drops were fun. There were forgiving enough beancans that I got my not-much-of-a-surf on, and the surroundings were beautifully fall patchworked. I was accompanied by a lot of rec boaters with one or two serious whitewater dudes. We cleaned up a lot of yard sales, but everyone was pretty chill about it. Boyscout, Hansen's, and Gilmore's Mistake were all pretty entertaining rapids, and the fun ones were conviniently located for multiple runs. Friday night, we hit some local dive that had amazing steak (granted, I don't think I've had steak since the bike trip), and I really enjoyed the post-river hangout. There was some great company.

Flat

Gilmore's

Sunday morning, I crawled out of the tent, packed up, and enjoyed yet another sunrise by the lake before meeting up with the same folks to go run the Red River. Thankfully, the Red is dam-controlled, so we had enough water that I wasn't constantly apologizing to my little boat. It was more pool-drop, but the rapids seemed a little more creeky and fun. Monastery and Ziemer's Falls kicked butt, and I have a suspicion that First Ledge would be pretty sticky with higher water, too. (Monastery videos found here, complements of Larry.) Anyhoo, I met 2 couples that are some of the friendliest people I've met since moving, and plenty of other fun characters to go boating with - hurray! Come spring, I'll probably try to paddle with the Hoofers some as well. Sadly, there will never be anyone to match up with the King and Queen of the South Fork, but I suppose I'll have to cope.

Monastery

Ziemer's

This weekend (Yes, Halloween. Yes, I'm passing up way too many parties. Yes, I know Madison is renowned for its Halloween. Yes, I know it will be frigid.), I'm joining some of the same people on the Wolf. This time, it will be the entire stretches of sections II and III. Someday, I'll work up to section IV, but right now those falls just look scary.

Epilogue

General Comments
After this summer, I am convinced that bicycling is probably among the best ways to see the world. You make better distance than hiking, you get to see things no person in a car will ever notice, and you rely on people in such a way that even though there may be honking jerks out there, you still see the full-blown kindness that people are capable of. Yes, you see a lot of asphault (which you pay closer attention to - different colors/types of rocks on the shoulders/bugs crawling across), power lines, and fences, but I think you also learn more about the life of the region than when in the backcountry. I talked to a lot of coal people in KY, a lot of grain farmers and processers out in KS, and those who work with lumber in the west. It was fun; there's always a lot to learn from people who don't think the same way as you do. I had never seen much beyond the east coast, and the areas we travelled through are insanely beautiful. The physical and mental challenge was immense but certainly not insurmountable. Below, I've answered some of the common questions I get and talked about some of the less-savory aspects of my Transamerica ride. Feel free to ask any other questions in the comments - I'll answer them. Hopefully, I'll also upload what I consider the "Best Of" photos within the next couple of weeks.
From now on, I may post some adventures from Madison, and this will likely become the blog for the AT trip post-grad-school I'm determined to do. Otherwise, this may be pretty dormant for the next 5 years.
Thank you for everything. Now get out and ride. :)

FAQs

Stats: Biked approx 4400 miles from Yorktown, VA to Anacortes, WA, carried around 40 pounds in 4 paniers, lost no weight (in theory gained around 5 pounds, but I was also much better at being hydrated at the end), went through 1 chain, 3(?) intertubes, 1 tire, highest elevation was 11,542 ft, longest day was approx 90 miles, hottest temps were probably around 104F

Toughest climbs: foothills on top of ridges in Kentucky

Easiest mountains: the Rockies

Most boring rides: certain spots in Kansas and Wyoming

Most beautiful places: Glacier, the Cascades, Currant Creek Pass (though Arapaho NF wasn't shoddy), the Tetons

Hardest mental day: the big fight with my dad

Worst headwinds: Wyoming and Kansas. The day we went past Jeffrey City.

Best food: oh man, there was a lot. (Steak at K-Diamond-K, burritos in Pueblo, and buffet in Waynesboro are the three that most quickly come to mind)

Worst food: "roast beef" in Lander

Biggest Jerks: eastern Missouri people and the octogenarians who cussed me out in Kentucky

Most awesome people: the family with the extra solar home in Crozet, people in Kansas, all the picnic-ers we passed

Most useful thing in my pack: extra water bladders

Numer of times I fell off the bike: 3 or 4 (one crash with dad, others were from losing balance while clipped in)

How was the end? Bittersweet. I was happy I had finished such an amazing journey, but I also recognized that life wouldn't be as simple. And simple is oh so good. Transferring directly to grad school has been tough. I miss the sights; I miss waking up and knowing that all I have to do is pedal; I still miss Emory friends.

Did the trip meet your expectations? I held very few specific expectations going into the trip. I knew that it would be physically and mentally challenging to ride. I knew it would be tough to be in such close proximity to one person for such a long time. I knew that it would be awesome. I did think that the ride would give me a lot of time (perhaps too much) for introspection, and that was the one expectation that wasn't met. I playfully proclaimed that we'd be doing 100+ mile days in the next state, but I never believed that too much. Oh - and I thought I would be eating a lot more ice cream than I did - I craved cookies and hawaiian shaved ice more.

Were there times you thought you might not make it? Yep. After the first couple of catastrophic days (my food poisoning, dad's bike breaking) and when we had to stop for dad to see the dentist, I got worried.

What kept me going? I thought a lot about friends and teammates back at school. I sang a lot, and that usually powered me up hills. Whenever there was a crazy headwind/storm/major obstacle, I usually caught myself thinking "Biking in this is impossible. I'm trying to bike across the continental US; impossible is nothing." You have to be damn stubborn for this kind of trip, but if you have that, the transam is absolutely doable.

How were the ACA maps? Better than expected. The route was pretty good - it kept us going through small towns, off major roads, and through any scenic area in a 100 mile radius. Sometimes, ACA kept us a bit too far away from traffic, and they seem to automatically route onto bike paths (which can be ok, but usually aren't good for touring). They were most useful in finding out where lodging/food/water/internet services could be obtained.

How was the bike? I guess Novaras (REI house brand) are solidly build frames. The REI store in Atlanta did a shitty job of putting my bike together, and that became obvious several times during the trip. I think I'd prefer a Trek 520, Fuji touring, or maybe Surly Long Haul Trucker. My bike also wasn't set up to fit me very well, but this was kinda useful in that I kept shifting my butt around on the seat trying to make things better.

Other gear comments: Novara paniers were awesome. Held up like mad, were super waterproof, etc. I had one CatEye cyclocomputer (Cadence?) that sucked and one (the Astrale) that worked out pretty well. Having one short sleeved and one sleeveless jersey was nice. Ibex wool is by far the best stuff I've ever tried, and the Smartwool PhD socks were great (I dislike their baselayers though). My mountain hardwear pants were, as always, awesome. Handlebar bags are super, super useful if you're the one navigating.

Would I do it again? YES.

Would I do it the same way? Probably not. (camp more, cook more, deal with asthma better, pack lighter, etc) That being said, I'm glad I had the experiences that I did on this trip.

Thing I most want to do now: AT (and see some different continents - I hear there's a bike tour through Africa)

Roadkill summary
Virginia and Kentucky have the most roadkill of the trip. Lots of possums, squirrels, and a few other fuzzy critters.
Missouri and Illinois had a ton of crickets, frogs, turtles, etc.
Kansas, Eastern Colorado, and all those other flat, kinda dry spots had very little roadkill. The little that was there was usually something like birds/bugs.
Mountainous regions out west had more squirrels, deer, etc.

Butt summary (I suggest that you don't read this if you don't want graphic details/aren't going on long bike trips any time soon)
Being on a bike hurts. I never really had many sore-leg problems or anything, but putting all your weight on a small region creates pressure wounds that are almost exactly like bedsores. Dad used chamois butter and bag balm a lot, but I tended to stick with anti-monkey butt powder. I tried the bag balm occasionally, and while my dad swears by it, I found it pretty useless. The powder helped me heal pretty quickly; though I think so long as my sores could stay dry, get air, and not be under constant pressure (getting off the bike, showering, and lying on my stomach was great), I was usually ok. Periods were not all that fun. Starting out, I caught a period a few days after I had just ended another one. Cramps were a little more pronounced than usual, feminine products caused more friction during rides or pressure on sores off the bike. Hiking, I usually focused on my feet; biking, ya have to pay attention to your butt.

Coastin' to the Coast

Yesterday, we went something like 62 miles into Sedro-Wooley, Washington. Nearly all the ride was alongside a turquoise river on a road that was a tunnel of green. It was something of a rainforest, with plenty of ferns, mosses, and undergrowth that we haven't seen since back east. The weather was cool all day, which was soooo refreshing after all the central washington triple digit days. It was a great ride for the almost-end-of-the-trip. We had a pretty massive dinner fail at the end of the day. The first place we tried had a ridiculously expensive salad bar, the next place didn't actually cook the pizza, and the subway we finally got to didn't have the sub I was gonna get (and didn't hear dad ask for something to drink). Little things, but when you're hungry at the end of a ride, it just isn't ok.

First sight of the Sound


Scummy bit of the bay

Today, we went through Burlington to ship some things and look for duffels to hold our panniers on the plane before going the rest of the 37 miles into Anacortes. The ride wasn't all that beautiful, for the area seems to be split into heavily-gated houses on the shore and scummy industry. The first few bays we passed were pretty gunked up or occupied by refineries. We did hit some bike paths - one was pretty nice and one had a gate that you couldn't get a loaded bike through. If there is one thing to say for Anacortes, though, it's that they have some amazing blackberries. Thick, juicy, and sweet = great snack for passing bikers. The San Juan Ferry Terminal was our terminus, so no great finishing pics (sorry). We got some food there, got some shots of the Pacific, and then started getting things wrapped up. My bicycle is now at a bike shop where it will wait to be disassembled and shipped to Madison. The hotel's a bit lonely without the bikes. While I'm happy that we've made it across, I'm not as thrilled as Dad is. I think I'd rather keep biking, just because it's so simple and so fun. Having to switch back to the whole "real world" thing is gonna suck, especially with the move coming up. If I can handle 4400+ miles, I'll be ok. There may be some summary post whenever I feel like it/get around to it.

Final Climb in the Cascades

8.4.09
We got up and out of Winthrop (a pretty cool western-y downtown with a super awesome chaco'd out pizza place) early and did some gradual climbing 15 miles into Mazama, which is even more chaco'd. We grabbed some food and drink from the gas station there which also doubles as a coffee shop and an outfitters (complete with really good outdoor clothes). There seemed to be a lot of cascade guides just chillin', and we had met a past transam cyclist who was from Mazama (and who offered us a place to stay). We left second breakfast around 8 and started the long climb up the east Cascades to Washington Pass. Ya know you're in for a good hill when before the climb even starts there's a sign warning people to turn off the A/C lest their radiator boils over. The east side managed to be incredibly dry even with the tons of creeks, and it sorta reminded me of a Teton/Current Creek Pass combination (though I can't say I know much about it, dad says that it looked like Yosimite). Twas quite a grandiose climb anyway, and the closer we got to the top, the more growth there was. Dad bonked during the climb, and while I was a little tired, I puttered happily to the top. We devoured some cheese and canadian bacon at the rest area up top, checked out the overlook (with views of the road we had been climbing hundreds of feet below), and continued down and then back up to Rainy Pass (a lower pass and the point where we crossed the PCT). The far side of rainy was completely different than the eastern part of the mountains. It was lush and green with a couple tons of creeks and awesome cascades (the tumbling creek kind and the off-the-sheer-face kind) that carved out their own mini-canyons. The east also had a plethora of yellow, white, and reddish wildflowers that just made the road nice. The descent was the most treacherous we've had, not because of the roads but because of the head/sidewinds. Near the top, a sign had warned us of severe crosswinds for the next 27 miles and the stuff definately kept me on my toes. Coming down, we started hitting dammed lake after dammed lake (the dams being part of a hydroelectric system that feeds Seatle and also the main thing that kept our road from being considered part of the National Park). The lakes were awesome, though. They're mostly glacier melt and had the color of a super-chlorinated pool or some Bermudan beach. Diablo was one of the cooler ones, since it had some beautiful snowy and super-green peaks surrounding it. We passed more dams, falls, and psycho winds, and went through our first and last tunnels. The last 10 miles (of 80) took some effort, but a sugar cube I had snagged from Mazama did help. We got to Newhalem, grabbed some supplemental food, and then went into the North Cascades National Park for some camping. This was probably the longest we've been on a bike time-wise: we were up pretty darned early and didn't get to the park until dinnertime.