(Corresponding Photos)
13 August 2009
08 August 2009
After being around so many fake, rude, dumb, mean, unable, unwilling people, it is the good ol' boys, with their smiles and their jokes and their hard work and their true happiness and their truly care free attitudes, that make me love being around man. That remind me that there are real, live people who function as I do and value the things I value. It is these guys who made those days some of the best I've ever had.
05 July 2009
Baseball Rant
Money is destroying baseball.
Here's the deal: A century ago, the starting pitcher threw every pitch in 88% of games played. Managers left the starter on the mound, win or lose. It was his game. But by the early 1920s, about 50% were complete games. Only 22% by 1979.
Last year, only one in every 35 starts resulted in a complete game. That's 2.8%
What's going on? There is now a widely held belief in baseball that making a pitcher throw more than 100 pitches per game will wear out his arm significantly faster than if he only throws a few innings per game. With clubs investing millions of dollars in their starting pitchers, teams can't "afford" to lose pitchers to injury or early retirement. (Even though the pitchers probably won't stay with the team for long anyway. Since, we all know there is more money out there for free agents. I mean, I know I'd be dying to find a better deal too because, I just don't know how I could possibly live on $3 million a year. Plus, few players show any loyalty to their clubs anymore. And they certainly aren't thinking about their fans or the city they play for.)
The business of baseball has become disgusting. Wouldn't it be nice for an owner of a ball club to invest in up-and-coming players and quality coaches that would be the foundation of the organization? The guys who want to be good ball players, not the ones who are just out there to get rich. If an owner were to do this, it wouldn't be just a team anymore. No. It would be a franchise. An institution. It would be classic baseball.
I could continue this tirade and explain the fallout from this evolution that makes baseball largely unbearable for me, but I'll save it in case I get REALLY desperate for blog material.
Here's the deal: A century ago, the starting pitcher threw every pitch in 88% of games played. Managers left the starter on the mound, win or lose. It was his game. But by the early 1920s, about 50% were complete games. Only 22% by 1979.
Last year, only one in every 35 starts resulted in a complete game. That's 2.8%
What's going on? There is now a widely held belief in baseball that making a pitcher throw more than 100 pitches per game will wear out his arm significantly faster than if he only throws a few innings per game. With clubs investing millions of dollars in their starting pitchers, teams can't "afford" to lose pitchers to injury or early retirement. (Even though the pitchers probably won't stay with the team for long anyway. Since, we all know there is more money out there for free agents. I mean, I know I'd be dying to find a better deal too because, I just don't know how I could possibly live on $3 million a year. Plus, few players show any loyalty to their clubs anymore. And they certainly aren't thinking about their fans or the city they play for.)
The business of baseball has become disgusting. Wouldn't it be nice for an owner of a ball club to invest in up-and-coming players and quality coaches that would be the foundation of the organization? The guys who want to be good ball players, not the ones who are just out there to get rich. If an owner were to do this, it wouldn't be just a team anymore. No. It would be a franchise. An institution. It would be classic baseball.
I could continue this tirade and explain the fallout from this evolution that makes baseball largely unbearable for me, but I'll save it in case I get REALLY desperate for blog material.
20 June 2009
What the Hell are Beaver Nuggets???
I am disturbed.
Maybe you've heard of Buc-ee's convenience stores. There are several of them in the middle of nowhere along Texas highways. But they will be on your mind hundreds of miles before you reach them. Why would a gas station be on your mind for so long? Because of the bucktoothed beaver billboards that impose themselves on you every few miles along your route. Example: "ONLY 262 MILES TO BUC-EE’S. YOU CAN HOLD IT."
I have been to Buc-ee's in Luling once before, which I just learned covers over 10(!) acres. It was a quick, in-and-out stop months ago on a trip from San Antonio to Louisiana. Saturday morning I was driving from Houston to Dallas. I was in need of some petro and some breakfast. I saw the signs. I stopped.
I don't think I can adequately describe this place, but I will try. It is a freaking carnival. A carnival with necessities. Because clean restrooms are preferable, and I knew they would deliver. (In fact, as I walked through the store, looking at the tile floor, I was thinking that the place might be cleaner than my house. Which is saying a lot since I live with an obsessively clean person.) This place is the size of a truck stop, but no trucks are allowed. And it stays packed. They have everything from Buc-ee's venison jerky to "specialty coffee".
When you walk in this place, you have to pause for a minute, take it in a bit and actually plan your attack. I needed breakfast tacos. So I walked 100 feet across the store to the counter. Under the heat lamp all I saw were egg-laden tacos.
R: "Can you make me something without eggs?"
Lady at the taco counter: "Sure."
R: "Great. Here's what I want."
Lady: "No, no, no."
She pointed behind me. "There's where you order."
It was a fucking kiosk. A fucking KIOSK!!! And there were 6 of them! Apparently, they even have them at the gas pumps so you can order your food while you pump your gas. Taken from their marketing firm's website: "With this kiosk, you have a blurring of the lines between restaurants, gas stations and supermarkets." I don't know who these people are, but the only time I use a kiosk is to check in at the airport.
This was just WAY too much. While I waited for them to be fixed, I headed across to the coffee counter. I had to have more information. I stopped to talk to one of the girls making some sort of old-fashioned sugar coated popcorn. Her name was Lindsey Lou. No lie, that was on her name tag. And when I asked her how she felt about Buc-ee's she replied, in the thickest southern drawl I have EVER heard, "It's a lot for this small town." I could tell I wasn't going to get the answers I was seeking. I ordered my coffee, I grabbed my tacos and headed to the checkout. Maybe this young man would be more help.
R: "What do you think about this Buc-ee's experience? Because I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening here."
Young man: "It is pretty crazy. I was headed to San Antonio not too long ago. I wasn't going to stop at the Buc-ee's in Luling, because I work here. I get enough of this place. But I saw the signs, and I gave in to them."
I felt like I should get the hell out before I drank the kool-aid. As I got on the road, Roger called, and I expressed my thoughts. I asked him for his. "When you plan a trip to Buc-ee's, you know you're fucked." Agreed.
On down the road I went. Cringing a little as I devoured my semi-automatically generated breakfast tacos.
Maybe you've heard of Buc-ee's convenience stores. There are several of them in the middle of nowhere along Texas highways. But they will be on your mind hundreds of miles before you reach them. Why would a gas station be on your mind for so long? Because of the bucktoothed beaver billboards that impose themselves on you every few miles along your route. Example: "ONLY 262 MILES TO BUC-EE’S. YOU CAN HOLD IT."
I have been to Buc-ee's in Luling once before, which I just learned covers over 10(!) acres. It was a quick, in-and-out stop months ago on a trip from San Antonio to Louisiana. Saturday morning I was driving from Houston to Dallas. I was in need of some petro and some breakfast. I saw the signs. I stopped.
I don't think I can adequately describe this place, but I will try. It is a freaking carnival. A carnival with necessities. Because clean restrooms are preferable, and I knew they would deliver. (In fact, as I walked through the store, looking at the tile floor, I was thinking that the place might be cleaner than my house. Which is saying a lot since I live with an obsessively clean person.) This place is the size of a truck stop, but no trucks are allowed. And it stays packed. They have everything from Buc-ee's venison jerky to "specialty coffee".
When you walk in this place, you have to pause for a minute, take it in a bit and actually plan your attack. I needed breakfast tacos. So I walked 100 feet across the store to the counter. Under the heat lamp all I saw were egg-laden tacos.
R: "Can you make me something without eggs?"
Lady at the taco counter: "Sure."
R: "Great. Here's what I want."
Lady: "No, no, no."
She pointed behind me. "There's where you order."
It was a fucking kiosk. A fucking KIOSK!!! And there were 6 of them! Apparently, they even have them at the gas pumps so you can order your food while you pump your gas. Taken from their marketing firm's website: "With this kiosk, you have a blurring of the lines between restaurants, gas stations and supermarkets." I don't know who these people are, but the only time I use a kiosk is to check in at the airport.
This was just WAY too much. While I waited for them to be fixed, I headed across to the coffee counter. I had to have more information. I stopped to talk to one of the girls making some sort of old-fashioned sugar coated popcorn. Her name was Lindsey Lou. No lie, that was on her name tag. And when I asked her how she felt about Buc-ee's she replied, in the thickest southern drawl I have EVER heard, "It's a lot for this small town." I could tell I wasn't going to get the answers I was seeking. I ordered my coffee, I grabbed my tacos and headed to the checkout. Maybe this young man would be more help.
R: "What do you think about this Buc-ee's experience? Because I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening here."
Young man: "It is pretty crazy. I was headed to San Antonio not too long ago. I wasn't going to stop at the Buc-ee's in Luling, because I work here. I get enough of this place. But I saw the signs, and I gave in to them."
I felt like I should get the hell out before I drank the kool-aid. As I got on the road, Roger called, and I expressed my thoughts. I asked him for his. "When you plan a trip to Buc-ee's, you know you're fucked." Agreed.
On down the road I went. Cringing a little as I devoured my semi-automatically generated breakfast tacos.
12 June 2009
Thought @ Work
Recently I have had several strange things suddenly occur to me.
1. I was walking into work the other day alongside a few of the guys. Walking to punch the clock. All of a sudden, I got the overwhelming feeling that I was in one of those old depressing movies where the men are going to the mine they work in for the job they hate. The job they do to put food on their family's table.
I don't work in a mine. And I don't hate this job. But it is mindless. The nice thing about this is that I don't have to take it home with me. But it is frustrating to do this kind of work when I have a degree. And four helicopter ratings. And my drive. I have to remind myself that it pays my bills. It's just that I am not satisfied with "just paying the bills".
2. Similarly, I find myself in another place when I go to Paramount Theatre. Well, not place, but time. In this instance, the experience is grand.
I have always enjoyed seeing movies by myself. My favorite place to see a movie, above Alamo even, is the Paramount. And typically, I go there by myself. Although I have made a couple of exceptions lately, because I can sometimes be a nice person. But this really isn't important.
My point is this: When I'm watching a movie from 1934 at the Paramount, I feel like I am in 1934 at the Paramount. Even though I am in flip flops, shorts and a tank, I feel as though I am sitting amongst men in tailored suits and fedoras, discarding peanut hulls on the floor. In my mind, I hear the movie reel turning, I see dust hanging in the air and I feel a trickle of sweat on my temple, even though I am actually freezing because the theatre is kept so cold these days. I remain there until the curtain closes and the noisy teenagers begin to file out. This is the kind of time travel I really enjoy.
3. Two years ago I got a call from my best friend from my childhood. She called to tell me she was getting married. At the point, if you asked me which of my friends would be the first to get married, Amanda would never have crossed my mind.
Two days ago Amanda had a son. I have not seen them yet, but when I thought of her holding her tiny new baby, I got the strangest feeling. Amanda's family is my family and mine is hers. I am happy that she had a boy, because, if it were a girl, she was going to name it Emory. Emory will be the name of my first child. Emory is my second family's name.
Amanda and I are a year apart, and we grew up in different towns, but our lives have largely mirrored each others. So it was strange when she agreed to marry. It is also strange that I am now (arguably) married. But her having a kid!?! Now, don't get me wrong. I think about eventually having kids. But she has one now. I don't have to tell you what enormous significance and consequence that comes along with. Not that she isn't a responsible person, but it is quite surreal to think of her in that way, because, now, she will never be apart from that image. And that image is very much incongruous with the image I have had of her for the past 10 years.
4. It is also surreal to pass a vehicle with Disabled Veteran plates and see that the driver is someone I might see at a bar, a handsome young man nearly my age.
1. I was walking into work the other day alongside a few of the guys. Walking to punch the clock. All of a sudden, I got the overwhelming feeling that I was in one of those old depressing movies where the men are going to the mine they work in for the job they hate. The job they do to put food on their family's table.
I don't work in a mine. And I don't hate this job. But it is mindless. The nice thing about this is that I don't have to take it home with me. But it is frustrating to do this kind of work when I have a degree. And four helicopter ratings. And my drive. I have to remind myself that it pays my bills. It's just that I am not satisfied with "just paying the bills".
2. Similarly, I find myself in another place when I go to Paramount Theatre. Well, not place, but time. In this instance, the experience is grand.
I have always enjoyed seeing movies by myself. My favorite place to see a movie, above Alamo even, is the Paramount. And typically, I go there by myself. Although I have made a couple of exceptions lately, because I can sometimes be a nice person. But this really isn't important.
My point is this: When I'm watching a movie from 1934 at the Paramount, I feel like I am in 1934 at the Paramount. Even though I am in flip flops, shorts and a tank, I feel as though I am sitting amongst men in tailored suits and fedoras, discarding peanut hulls on the floor. In my mind, I hear the movie reel turning, I see dust hanging in the air and I feel a trickle of sweat on my temple, even though I am actually freezing because the theatre is kept so cold these days. I remain there until the curtain closes and the noisy teenagers begin to file out. This is the kind of time travel I really enjoy.
3. Two years ago I got a call from my best friend from my childhood. She called to tell me she was getting married. At the point, if you asked me which of my friends would be the first to get married, Amanda would never have crossed my mind.
Two days ago Amanda had a son. I have not seen them yet, but when I thought of her holding her tiny new baby, I got the strangest feeling. Amanda's family is my family and mine is hers. I am happy that she had a boy, because, if it were a girl, she was going to name it Emory. Emory will be the name of my first child. Emory is my second family's name.
Amanda and I are a year apart, and we grew up in different towns, but our lives have largely mirrored each others. So it was strange when she agreed to marry. It is also strange that I am now (arguably) married. But her having a kid!?! Now, don't get me wrong. I think about eventually having kids. But she has one now. I don't have to tell you what enormous significance and consequence that comes along with. Not that she isn't a responsible person, but it is quite surreal to think of her in that way, because, now, she will never be apart from that image. And that image is very much incongruous with the image I have had of her for the past 10 years.
4. It is also surreal to pass a vehicle with Disabled Veteran plates and see that the driver is someone I might see at a bar, a handsome young man nearly my age.
05 June 2009
Summer Breeze, And It Makes Me Feel Fine
I am in Houston. I am exhausted. Naps in the middle of the day used to be my thing. They are quickly becoming so again.
Typically, when I do nap, I stay away from the bed. That's just a bit too pathetic for me. The floor is a good spot. So is the grass in the backyard. That is, until the stupid effing ice cream truck comes into the neighborhood with its abhorrent music blaring.
But, while I'm at Wilson's, the bed is the best place. My room here is wonderful. Red wall, minimalistic shelving, iron and dark cherry wood frame bed with red sheets and my favorite kind of down comforter. Huge western-facing windows so that the afternoon sun can keep me company. And curtains suggesting just the right breeze.
Behold, my afternoon domain,
Typically, when I do nap, I stay away from the bed. That's just a bit too pathetic for me. The floor is a good spot. So is the grass in the backyard. That is, until the stupid effing ice cream truck comes into the neighborhood with its abhorrent music blaring.
But, while I'm at Wilson's, the bed is the best place. My room here is wonderful. Red wall, minimalistic shelving, iron and dark cherry wood frame bed with red sheets and my favorite kind of down comforter. Huge western-facing windows so that the afternoon sun can keep me company. And curtains suggesting just the right breeze.
Behold, my afternoon domain,
02 June 2009
I'll be alright long as I ain't seen it all
As I was listening to Death Cab while working today, which I haven't listened to in a long time, I was thinking about how freaking deep their songs are. It got me to thinking about this bloggiddy blog here, and where I was when I began it. Well, not so much about where I was then, but where I am now. Very very far from there. Like those songs, I was in a deep place for a lot of reasons, but mostly, I think, because of lack of reference. And I was putting a lot of importance on the things that were happening. There was not a lot of hope or happiness trickling in. It was all buried somewhere deep inside.
Now, I am certainly still deep and analytical and "depraved and perverted". But geez, I think I've come a long way. I am incredibly happy and stimulated and fulfilled. And yes, I still think about some things way too much and get wrapped up in my sometimes silly ideas. But I feel like I have a lot more discretion and am more rational about things that are happening around me. I may or may not believe that, but I do feel better these days about my fucked up little reality.
I have a restored faith in a few of the more important people in my life, I am being creative, and I feel in control. And, I'm not holding on so tight to the things that aren't up to me.
So as I take in a confident breath, I relieve a sigh of contentment.
Now, I am certainly still deep and analytical and "depraved and perverted". But geez, I think I've come a long way. I am incredibly happy and stimulated and fulfilled. And yes, I still think about some things way too much and get wrapped up in my sometimes silly ideas. But I feel like I have a lot more discretion and am more rational about things that are happening around me. I may or may not believe that, but I do feel better these days about my fucked up little reality.
I have a restored faith in a few of the more important people in my life, I am being creative, and I feel in control. And, I'm not holding on so tight to the things that aren't up to me.
So as I take in a confident breath, I relieve a sigh of contentment.
25 May 2009
23 May 2009
Update
I'm in Houston doing logistics for Bacardi Mojito parties. Got the pup with me and the lady's in Galveston--close enough for a few hours of seeing each other.
Last night we went to the Bacchus Wine Bar for a glass. It is one of the places we went last time, and it is a little gem. Music and good vibes at the sidewalk tables with a young crowd, but not frat-y or douche-y.
I tried a few new wines. I ended up going with a Marlec whose maker I cannot remember. But also tried an excellent Paso a Paso. And the Professor Black.
Last night we went to the Bacchus Wine Bar for a glass. It is one of the places we went last time, and it is a little gem. Music and good vibes at the sidewalk tables with a young crowd, but not frat-y or douche-y.
I tried a few new wines. I ended up going with a Marlec whose maker I cannot remember. But also tried an excellent Paso a Paso. And the Professor Black.
16 May 2009
Northwestward
I've been wanting to take a road trip up to Vancouver for a while. Now that I'm working 5 jobs, maybe I'll have enough money at the end of the summer to actually make it happen. Wish me luck. Oh, and if you want to contribute to the "Rachael's Summer '09 Road Trip to Vancouver" fund, feel free. Seriously.
Here's the proposed route up there:
View Larger Map
And the proposed route back:
View Larger Map
6000 miles, 4 and a half days of actual driving, plus all the time taking pictures and exploring, chatting with locals, takin' it in. I want badly to take Buddy with me to see it all, but I don't think he would ever forgive me for making him spend that much time in the truck. He's already sick of driving to San Antonio all the time.
I really really want to do this. I guess I'd better find a 6th job. Anyone hiring??
30 April 2009
This One Goes Out to Carly
I don't get why my friends disappear when it I ask them to spend time with me.
It makes me love Carly-Ann even more for calling me up and telling me she booked a ticket to come see me. From Vancouver. When we'd never even met face to face.
It makes me love Carly-Ann even more for calling me up and telling me she booked a ticket to come see me. From Vancouver. When we'd never even met face to face.
28 April 2009
Where to begin?
Ok kiddos. Well, it's been a while eh? A lot has happened since the last post back in August. Let's ease in with the toes...
As daunting as it seems to resume this blog, I might have found some inspiration. More to possibly follow soon.
- I got my Instrument, Commercial, and Instructor helicopter ratings a week later.
- Carly came to see me!
- I went to New York with Molly.
- I turned 23.
- I started a business, and, subsequently, it got its own blog. See rachaelcookphotography.wordpress.com.
- I graduated, finally.
- I flew our helicopter up to Oklahoma. I stopped at my parents' house on the way, and was able to finally give my mom the flight she'd been wanting.
- I missed out on a lot of work and a lot of flight hours due to some very unfortunate timing of the the helicopter being sold.
- I downsized my bike collection. Now it includes only the one I rode to Alaska. If you know me, you know this is tough to swallow.
- I planted a garden and some flowers and some grass. And built a dog house that the cat likes.
- I traveled to Europe with Molly.
- For about two weeks, I seriously thought I was going to become a State Trooper. Then my quite convincing inner "you know you're not going to be happy with this decision" spoke up.
- My photography was accepted for exhibit in downtown McKinney. See Orisonsart.com.
- I met some nice new people and reconnected with some nice "old" people.
As daunting as it seems to resume this blog, I might have found some inspiration. More to possibly follow soon.
16 August 2008
Finished Product
Getting the spacing right...
With the back rest up...
Hot Dog...
Stained and on the porch...
I'm sitting on it and drinking a beer as soon as it's dry...
With the back rest up...
Hot Dog...
Stained and on the porch...
I'm sitting on it and drinking a beer as soon as it's dry...
15 August 2008
The latest project
I will put more up tomorrow (maybe) when it's finished. Still need to put on the back rest and stain it. I might stretch it into another 2 days so I have something to work on.
06 November 2007
My Yard
I knew I would love this house when I saw it. An old country house set back behind a large front yard, looking out on the street from under its brow of low hanging hundred year old Oak trees. Like so many farm houses from my childhood, it’s got an old aluminum cattle gate at the side of the house granting access through the long driveway into the back yard that hangs crooked on its hinges and squeaks tiredly when nudged from the same old position it’s been in for so many years.
My neighbors are a quirky combination of young and hip, old and hippie, and they’re always willing to sit on one of our front porches and catch up for a bit over a beer. Just last week I was carving a pumpkin on my front porch stoop. Such an inviting neighborhood delights people to casually walk by, and these new people feel it too; they always smile and wave. It was the time of day when the afternoon sun perfectly finds its way through the leaves and warms the right side of my face just enough. Of course there is a delightful array of birds that loves to dance in the wisteria vines and other green havens provided by Sean and Shana’s yard to the left. There they are just out of reach of the young tabby cat that has made each of our porches her home. The way the sun is sliding in over the hedge row along the driveway, and just low enough to slip in below the trees, it reveals a thousand silvery rivers of fragile spider webbing that have so delicately been created on the fallen leaves and blades of grass. Just about this time, Shana starts playing her harp in her front living room. The sounds float softly over my ears providing the perfect background music for the thoughts revealing themselves as smiles on my face.
My neighbors are a quirky combination of young and hip, old and hippie, and they’re always willing to sit on one of our front porches and catch up for a bit over a beer. Just last week I was carving a pumpkin on my front porch stoop. Such an inviting neighborhood delights people to casually walk by, and these new people feel it too; they always smile and wave. It was the time of day when the afternoon sun perfectly finds its way through the leaves and warms the right side of my face just enough. Of course there is a delightful array of birds that loves to dance in the wisteria vines and other green havens provided by Sean and Shana’s yard to the left. There they are just out of reach of the young tabby cat that has made each of our porches her home. The way the sun is sliding in over the hedge row along the driveway, and just low enough to slip in below the trees, it reveals a thousand silvery rivers of fragile spider webbing that have so delicately been created on the fallen leaves and blades of grass. Just about this time, Shana starts playing her harp in her front living room. The sounds float softly over my ears providing the perfect background music for the thoughts revealing themselves as smiles on my face.
16 October 2007
09 October 2007
Finally
Since I was a kid I begged my parents to get me a dirt bike, but they insisted that I would kill myself. After a few close calls while riding my cousins' bikes and my friend's 4wheeler, I realized they were probably right. Now that I'm a little bit older and slightly less stupid (relative to my childhood I've come around a bit, relative to sane people, I'm still crazy), I decided it's time for me to have a bike. I'm starting small so that I run out of throttle before I can get too wild, but I can barely contain myself from waking up early to go for a ride, when normally I'm not functional before 10am.
Andy and I have done some work on the bike, and I feel like it represents my character quite well. My bike and I together have a personality that demands attention, so it's fun to see people stop and stare out of the corner of my eye as I ride past them. Here she is before
And after
Andy and I have done some work on the bike, and I feel like it represents my character quite well. My bike and I together have a personality that demands attention, so it's fun to see people stop and stare out of the corner of my eye as I ride past them. Here she is before
And after
07 October 2007
Nelchina, Alaska, Day 68, Aug 8th
Today brought to reality a whole new reason I should be sacred to have ridden alone those 180 miles. After taking a long break in Glenallen for lunch we were riding up the road until we came up on most of the team pulled over on the side of the road. One of our riders was sitting on the ground in shock after some mother fucker had stopped her and tried to pull her off into the woods, all the while hitting her in the face. We were all thoroughly shaken up and stuck around until we were told by the police that the troopers had caught the bastard. I thought I was going to have to hold Amy from going back to torture the piece of shit.
We're all procrastinating in the morning now; I think we're all trying to prolong being together, despite being sick of a few people. We got chased by a dog on the road just as we left this morning. He was dragging a big ass chain from his collar, and I think he just wanted to play, but none of us wanted to get pulled off our bikes onto the pavement so we scooted on by him.
Amy and I kept up the pace from there with a little help from a tailwind. I really enjoy riding with her. I realize what I missed out on for most of the summer by not riding people, but it wasn't like I could ride with Amy all summer since she was on the Rockies route. I am having so much fun with her, Marlowe and Walker. It takes me back to Day 2 when we parted ways with them, and I immediately felt a gap and that I had chosen the wrong route. I know now that's not the case, but nevertheless it would have been great to spend teh summer with them. I am relieved by the fact that I will still hang out with Amy in Austin, and that Walker and Marlowe are going back to NY so I won't see them anyway.
I rode in some freezing rain toward the end of the day and am glad I didn't have to do so when I was more sick since it hurts so bad to cough today and I can't seem to stop coughing.
At the little RV park store where we're staying there's a man sitting in the corner of the porch when I roll up, but I can't tell if he's a real man or one carved out of wood until he saws hello to me. Apparently he lives back in the woods somewhere.
We have a big dinner then some ice cream sandwiches. While we're stalking seconds of pasta in the mosquito tent, Miguel and "Boris" (Vitek) are drinking 40s of "Steel Reserve" beer. Quickly after eating we build a fire in a barrel and hobo up to keep warm. So fitting with the 40s. The owner let his dogs out so Winchester--an extremely friendly Golden--and Priscilla--a confused Saint Bernard--provided the night's entertainment. It was pretty funny watching a drunken Boris yell at Priscilla and try to convince her to sit down at his feet.
The next morning is the last time we'll fix breakfast. Since Jon and I are driving, we make as many pancakes as possible, but decide in the end that the BIGGEST pancakes possible is a better approach.
We're all procrastinating in the morning now; I think we're all trying to prolong being together, despite being sick of a few people. We got chased by a dog on the road just as we left this morning. He was dragging a big ass chain from his collar, and I think he just wanted to play, but none of us wanted to get pulled off our bikes onto the pavement so we scooted on by him.
Amy and I kept up the pace from there with a little help from a tailwind. I really enjoy riding with her. I realize what I missed out on for most of the summer by not riding people, but it wasn't like I could ride with Amy all summer since she was on the Rockies route. I am having so much fun with her, Marlowe and Walker. It takes me back to Day 2 when we parted ways with them, and I immediately felt a gap and that I had chosen the wrong route. I know now that's not the case, but nevertheless it would have been great to spend teh summer with them. I am relieved by the fact that I will still hang out with Amy in Austin, and that Walker and Marlowe are going back to NY so I won't see them anyway.
I rode in some freezing rain toward the end of the day and am glad I didn't have to do so when I was more sick since it hurts so bad to cough today and I can't seem to stop coughing.
At the little RV park store where we're staying there's a man sitting in the corner of the porch when I roll up, but I can't tell if he's a real man or one carved out of wood until he saws hello to me. Apparently he lives back in the woods somewhere.
We have a big dinner then some ice cream sandwiches. While we're stalking seconds of pasta in the mosquito tent, Miguel and "Boris" (Vitek) are drinking 40s of "Steel Reserve" beer. Quickly after eating we build a fire in a barrel and hobo up to keep warm. So fitting with the 40s. The owner let his dogs out so Winchester--an extremely friendly Golden--and Priscilla--a confused Saint Bernard--provided the night's entertainment. It was pretty funny watching a drunken Boris yell at Priscilla and try to convince her to sit down at his feet.
The next morning is the last time we'll fix breakfast. Since Jon and I are driving, we make as many pancakes as possible, but decide in the end that the BIGGEST pancakes possible is a better approach.
Chistochina, Alaska Day 67, Aug 7th
We rode a few miles down to Sourdough in the rain for the pancake breakfast they've planned for us. We're already wet and freezing--it's 55 degrees and raining--and no one wants to ride. Again I feel like riding in this weather will be detrimental to my health, and I'd rather ride 180 miles tomorrow to catch up with the team than make myself more sick riding in this all day. As the rest of the team is reluctantly heading off, I am unpacking my bag and refilling it with the necessary essentials to get me those 180 miles unsupported, hoping desperately that the weather will be better tomorrow. Oleg decided at the same time that he was going to try to ride for 24 hours straight the remaining 328 miles to Anchorage and arrive there 2 days early. If it wasn't for this damn weather, I would love to present myself with that challenge, but I'll have to do this 180 challenge instead. I've been sitting in the cafe here at the Sourdough Camp since mid morning and now it's 4:30. The RVers have been coming and going, and most of them are speaking foreign languages.
I have no concept of time anymore, or whether I'm riding up a hill or down since we always have a headwind. Being out in the Yukon was strange. I was so far away from anywhere I've ever been before, would ride all day and see the same hills and far-off mountains, but rarely any people. It seems like I'm moving myself as hard as I can all day long and getting nowhere. I hadn't talked to anyone from home in weeks, and when I was riding by myself sometimes I would be nearly overcome with feelings of abandonment and desolation. It got so bad at times that I would often think of Kelly. Further contributing to my disorientation was the fact that I was wearing my sunglasses at 10 o'clock at night and had to force myself to go to sleep when it was light at night. We left the bar in Destruction Bay at 11:30 and the sun was just setting.
So after sitting in the cafe for about 7 hours or so, the lady who owns it gave me some tea and reindeer chili in a sourdough bread bowl which was very tasty. Not too long after Jody's grandmom (her grandparents had planned their trip so they would be in Tok at the same time as us) came to get me after hearing of how I stayed behind. They took me to their trailer to sleep, fed me roast stew and scotch before I headed to bed. Not too long after being asleep, I heard a knock then Jordan, Daniel, and Oleg's voices. They hadn't taken me and Oleg seriously until they got to Chistochina and realized we weren't there. So J & D drove up 70 or so miles to get Oleg (he rode 170 miles before they caught him), then drove back 170 miles to pick me up. Then we drove the 90 scheduled miles for that day to the community center in Chistochina and arrived at 12:30 in the morning. Everyone was asleep when we got there, and I confused the cute boy on the floor (there were a couple of other people staying there too) for someone on our team who had decided to clean themselves up. Oleg and I raided the place and found some ice cream to eat before sacking out. On the way to Chistochina we saw a white fox on the road which made me realize I would have had to deal with possible wildlife encounters--bears and moose and whatnot--riding by myself in the middle of nowhere as I left at 3:30 in the morning to ride those 180 miles.
During breakfast the next morning we had another Darlene scare. As she was lighting the stove the gas had built up pressure, released and blown up into her face. After checking her over for melting flesh we saw only some fried hair, but no major deformations.
I have no concept of time anymore, or whether I'm riding up a hill or down since we always have a headwind. Being out in the Yukon was strange. I was so far away from anywhere I've ever been before, would ride all day and see the same hills and far-off mountains, but rarely any people. It seems like I'm moving myself as hard as I can all day long and getting nowhere. I hadn't talked to anyone from home in weeks, and when I was riding by myself sometimes I would be nearly overcome with feelings of abandonment and desolation. It got so bad at times that I would often think of Kelly. Further contributing to my disorientation was the fact that I was wearing my sunglasses at 10 o'clock at night and had to force myself to go to sleep when it was light at night. We left the bar in Destruction Bay at 11:30 and the sun was just setting.
So after sitting in the cafe for about 7 hours or so, the lady who owns it gave me some tea and reindeer chili in a sourdough bread bowl which was very tasty. Not too long after Jody's grandmom (her grandparents had planned their trip so they would be in Tok at the same time as us) came to get me after hearing of how I stayed behind. They took me to their trailer to sleep, fed me roast stew and scotch before I headed to bed. Not too long after being asleep, I heard a knock then Jordan, Daniel, and Oleg's voices. They hadn't taken me and Oleg seriously until they got to Chistochina and realized we weren't there. So J & D drove up 70 or so miles to get Oleg (he rode 170 miles before they caught him), then drove back 170 miles to pick me up. Then we drove the 90 scheduled miles for that day to the community center in Chistochina and arrived at 12:30 in the morning. Everyone was asleep when we got there, and I confused the cute boy on the floor (there were a couple of other people staying there too) for someone on our team who had decided to clean themselves up. Oleg and I raided the place and found some ice cream to eat before sacking out. On the way to Chistochina we saw a white fox on the road which made me realize I would have had to deal with possible wildlife encounters--bears and moose and whatnot--riding by myself in the middle of nowhere as I left at 3:30 in the morning to ride those 180 miles.
During breakfast the next morning we had another Darlene scare. As she was lighting the stove the gas had built up pressure, released and blown up into her face. After checking her over for melting flesh we saw only some fried hair, but no major deformations.
Tok, Alaska Day 66. Aug. 6th
I wake up feeling ill at 5 and then 7 am after tossing all night. It's raining and no one wants to get on the bike today. It's a short 50 mile day, but I'm torn over whether to ride & get more sick or sag for the day. At the last minute I decide to sag, and it's a good thing because as soon as I got in the car I passed out, exhausted. When I wake up there's a massive headwind which would have undoubtedly made me cry, and with my current absence of energy, I would never have made it into Tok. Rambo, Mike & I went ahead into Tok & arranged for us to stay at a church instead of the Sourdough Camp where we were supposed to stay since storms were on their way. Not long after getting to the church I ate dinner and laid down. I fell asleep at 7:44pm and woke up the next morning still feeling ill, with a scheduled 90 miles, and it's raining.
*There are no pictures from this day. Because of the rain, I didn't carry my camera.
*There are no pictures from this day. Because of the rain, I didn't carry my camera.
23 September 2007
06 September 2007
Rachel, NV
Day 21, Caliente NV to Rachel NV, June 22
Today is my drive day with Jon and we're bummed. Since it's summer solstice, tradition is that we all ride naked for at least a mile of today's ride. As we're fixing breakfast for the team, however, I spot 2 aprons in the church kitchen so we had our own version of naked day. Katrina asked me if I could "top off" her coffee. Ahhh... I had a blast driving through the desert today. What I do enjoy about driving is that I get some time to myself, so I jammed out to some tunes which really made it feel like I was on a road trip. All day at my rest stop I got to hear "Coming into Rachel" jokes, and I must say, some people were impressively creative with their one-liners. I've forgotten a lot of them, but "I think I'll take the back entrance into Rachel" 
was a favorite of the guys. It went on and on. The town of Rachel is in the middle of Area 51, and they take pride in their "alien encounters". It's 70 miles from Caliente and 110 miles for Tonopah, and we're told, is home to 60 people. The motel we stayed at consisted of the 21 of us packing ourselves into a single wide mobile-home trailer, one of about 5 that made up said motel. It was called "The Little A'le'Inn". Our hosts were awesome and fixed us dinner in their store/lobby/restaurant. As I'm eating I'm wondering why the cute waitress, near our age, lives in this town.
After dinner, 8 of us packed into the van and hauled ass for 2
hours to Las Vegas to check out the city. I never thought I'd like to go to Vegas, and I've turned down several invitations to go, but one of the reasons I'm taking this trip is to see new places. The way we did it however--laid back and cheap--I really enjoyed it. Maybe because I've been in the middle of nowhere lately and it's nice to see civilization again, but regardless, I had a great time. We finally got the van parked, although we thought at times it'd be impossible to find a parking garage it would fit in with the bike racks on top. Ryan Hill can pull off some amazing feats.
We grabbed a couple of beers and walked down to check out show at the Bellagio, won $20 on one hant the waterd of Black Jack, got 'ritas at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville, headed to the Venetian and then to the newest hotel in Vegas, the Wynn.
As we were walking back to the van, I said to the rest of the crew that I it would be so awesome to run into someone I know in this huge city that I've never been to. Not 2 minutes later, as we're going up an elevator I lock eyes with a girl coming down the one next to us, and we both have that "I know you from somewhere" feeling. We continue to stare at each other as we pass on the elevators and even when I get to the top, and her the bottom, we're still looking at each other. Then all of a sudden she yells up to me, "I was your bartender in Albuquerque!" Totally unbelievable that the chick who served us drinks in a bar almost 2 weeks earlier would remember me in Vegas.
Today is my drive day with Jon and we're bummed. Since it's summer solstice, tradition is that we all ride naked for at least a mile of today's ride. As we're fixing breakfast for the team, however, I spot 2 aprons in the church kitchen so we had our own version of naked day. Katrina asked me if I could "top off" her coffee. Ahhh... I had a blast driving through the desert today. What I do enjoy about driving is that I get some time to myself, so I jammed out to some tunes which really made it feel like I was on a road trip. All day at my rest stop I got to hear "Coming into Rachel" jokes, and I must say, some people were impressively creative with their one-liners. I've forgotten a lot of them, but "I think I'll take the back entrance into Rachel" 
was a favorite of the guys. It went on and on. The town of Rachel is in the middle of Area 51, and they take pride in their "alien encounters". It's 70 miles from Caliente and 110 miles for Tonopah, and we're told, is home to 60 people. The motel we stayed at consisted of the 21 of us packing ourselves into a single wide mobile-home trailer, one of about 5 that made up said motel. It was called "The Little A'le'Inn". Our hosts were awesome and fixed us dinner in their store/lobby/restaurant. As I'm eating I'm wondering why the cute waitress, near our age, lives in this town.After dinner, 8 of us packed into the van and hauled ass for 2
hours to Las Vegas to check out the city. I never thought I'd like to go to Vegas, and I've turned down several invitations to go, but one of the reasons I'm taking this trip is to see new places. The way we did it however--laid back and cheap--I really enjoyed it. Maybe because I've been in the middle of nowhere lately and it's nice to see civilization again, but regardless, I had a great time. We finally got the van parked, although we thought at times it'd be impossible to find a parking garage it would fit in with the bike racks on top. Ryan Hill can pull off some amazing feats.
We grabbed a couple of beers and walked down to check out show at the Bellagio, won $20 on one hant the waterd of Black Jack, got 'ritas at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville, headed to the Venetian and then to the newest hotel in Vegas, the Wynn.
As we were walking back to the van, I said to the rest of the crew that I it would be so awesome to run into someone I know in this huge city that I've never been to. Not 2 minutes later, as we're going up an elevator I lock eyes with a girl coming down the one next to us, and we both have that "I know you from somewhere" feeling. We continue to stare at each other as we pass on the elevators and even when I get to the top, and her the bottom, we're still looking at each other. Then all of a sudden she yells up to me, "I was your bartender in Albuquerque!" Totally unbelievable that the chick who served us drinks in a bar almost 2 weeks earlier would remember me in Vegas.
28 August 2007
Alaska Border Day
Day 65, Beaver Creek, Yukon to Northway Jct, Alaska, Aug. 5
It's Katrina & Elyse's birthdays and we leave as one big peloton around noon to set us up for the border race. I don't know if the people lined up at Canadian Customs knew who we were, or if they just thought it was cool to see a big group of cyclists out there, but the drivers and passengers of the 20 or so cars, trucks, and RVs were yelling, clapping and slapping our hands as we rode by. It was so cool that we got to celebrate this big event with an audience, some of whom were from Texas. Vitek somehow got mixed up in the loose gravel in the ditch and busted ass, face first, into the rocks. When I stopped he was fine, but I hung back and was not able to catch the peloton for the final sprint to the border sign. Our team (Coastal) took 1st-10th places. We took a million and one pictures at the big Alaska sign and the sense of accomplishment was pretty great. During our photo op a woman came up and rudely asked for us to move so she could take a picture of the sign without us in it. Impatiently she said, "I drove 3000 miles to get here and I want a picture!" We all kind of smirked and one of the guys popped back, "Oh, well we've been riding our bikes for the last 65 days to get here, over 4000 miles, so you can wait!"
Not long after we passed American Customs we stopped at a gas station/gift shop/cafe and there was no doubt we were back in America. The place had fountain drinks, regular priced candy bars, a flat screen playing ESPN in HD and waitresses talking about watching Nascar earlier in the morning. It was a nice change from the $2 canned cokes and $2 candy bars in Canada.
Amy and I rode the rest of the way in together and stopped to talk to a woman just outside of town who raises and sells Huskies. It's pretty empty out here. Since she's the Principal at the school of 40 kids--K through 12th--the rundown single wide trailer with holes in the walls and ripped up flooring, that requires a bucket of water be poured in the toilet bowl for it to flush, is passed down to her by the school rent free. The water in Northway is not drinkable so they make weekly 60 mile trips to Tok and haul water back home. She's only a few hours shy of her Ph.D. but in a year, her 17 year old son can make what she makes in salary as a flagger for the road construction crews. The place is a wreck, "but there's nothing else out here," she tells us. Amy and I get into camp & get in a quick shower before the store closes [which would turn out to be my last shower before getting to Anchorage]. The mosquitoes are unbelievably bad tonight and I'm not feeling well so I cut out early. I'm kept awake, however, until almost 3 am by a combination of coughing, a runny nose, and my teammates who are drinking and yelling long into the night.
It's Katrina & Elyse's birthdays and we leave as one big peloton around noon to set us up for the border race. I don't know if the people lined up at Canadian Customs knew who we were, or if they just thought it was cool to see a big group of cyclists out there, but the drivers and passengers of the 20 or so cars, trucks, and RVs were yelling, clapping and slapping our hands as we rode by. It was so cool that we got to celebrate this big event with an audience, some of whom were from Texas. Vitek somehow got mixed up in the loose gravel in the ditch and busted ass, face first, into the rocks. When I stopped he was fine, but I hung back and was not able to catch the peloton for the final sprint to the border sign. Our team (Coastal) took 1st-10th places. We took a million and one pictures at the big Alaska sign and the sense of accomplishment was pretty great. During our photo op a woman came up and rudely asked for us to move so she could take a picture of the sign without us in it. Impatiently she said, "I drove 3000 miles to get here and I want a picture!" We all kind of smirked and one of the guys popped back, "Oh, well we've been riding our bikes for the last 65 days to get here, over 4000 miles, so you can wait!" Not long after we passed American Customs we stopped at a gas station/gift shop/cafe and there was no doubt we were back in America. The place had fountain drinks, regular priced candy bars, a flat screen playing ESPN in HD and waitresses talking about watching Nascar earlier in the morning. It was a nice change from the $2 canned cokes and $2 candy bars in Canada.
Amy and I rode the rest of the way in together and stopped to talk to a woman just outside of town who raises and sells Huskies. It's pretty empty out here. Since she's the Principal at the school of 40 kids--K through 12th--the rundown single wide trailer with holes in the walls and ripped up flooring, that requires a bucket of water be poured in the toilet bowl for it to flush, is passed down to her by the school rent free. The water in Northway is not drinkable so they make weekly 60 mile trips to Tok and haul water back home. She's only a few hours shy of her Ph.D. but in a year, her 17 year old son can make what she makes in salary as a flagger for the road construction crews. The place is a wreck, "but there's nothing else out here," she tells us. Amy and I get into camp & get in a quick shower before the store closes [which would turn out to be my last shower before getting to Anchorage]. The mosquitoes are unbelievably bad tonight and I'm not feeling well so I cut out early. I'm kept awake, however, until almost 3 am by a combination of coughing, a runny nose, and my teammates who are drinking and yelling long into the night.
20 August 2007
Centrally Located
I'm finally back in Austin, and it's weird to say the least. I can't really expand on it much at the moment--it's still sinking in. What I'm here to say is that I'll be getting my pictures from Darlene's computer soon. When that happens, I'll be chosing some of the more interesting journal entries from this summer and blogging them along with the corresponding pictures. Be on the lookout.
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