It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Having spent the last 9 months with almost exclusively each other's company, Hol and I are pretty good at passing the time on our own. For example, we recently purchased a challenging cross-word book and yesterday, whilst awaiting the kick off of our 43 hour Greyhound extravaganza from Denver to Vancouver, we spent an enjoyable hour or so perusing novelty underwear in TKMaxx. I like to think we can find a thriftily good time in any city we come to. However, last week it all changed with the arrival of 7 friends from University. They were accompanied by bicycles, outsized bottles of Bourbon and were surprisingly dis-interested in helping us solve 57 across: 'some game endings' (5 letters)*. Looking back at the last 7 days it is a hazy blur, but it was truly epic.

Traveling on a budget for a long period of time makes you stretch out the excitement in everything you do. If you are going out for a meal you plan it well in advance and savour every last mouthful. If it is a movie you wait for exactly the right gloomy, rainy afternoon and the right film before parting with your dosh. 7 people straight from successful London jobs with only a week to spend their hard earned cash reminded us how much you can pack into a week, and also how good it is having your mates around.

When Angus, Henry, Reevo, Smithy, Scotty, Hutch and Steph arrived off the plane they had already been up for around 24 hours. However, a quick shower, a sharpener in the bar and burger later and any thoughts of an early night were rapidly dispelled. Before we knew it English accents had attracted Hen parties from across the Midwest and sambuca was being sipped from certain people's belly buttons. Classy. There was never any real let up from there. Up at 6.30 the next morning to watch the British Lions, off to Boulder to put bikes together and ride up the first of several mountains. Back for a shower, dinner, everclear laced Margaritas, a nightclub, a late night invitation into a deserted art gallery by some 'friendly' young men, all finished off with splashing in public fountains before bed.

The reason we were all out there together was because one of the group, Justin, grew up in Longmont and also had a cabin out in the wilderness of South Park. Cue 3 hours of drive-by moonies, water fights between cars and a final leg down a dirt road until we hit the cabin. This was truly one of the most beautiful places we have been on the trip so far. In rolling green plains with snow capped peaks all around us we unloaded 3 days worth of booze, BBQ meat and supplies. It was the perfect setting to catch up with friends over long evenings interspersed with lung busting high altitude exercise.

Over the week we climbed passes on the bike over 12,000', we summited Mt. Oxford at 14,000' and managed to get significantly better and then worse at horseshoes. It was non-stop adventure and chat for 7 days all topped off by going to a Colorado Rockies ball game. But all too quickly we were in the cars driving back to the airports to wave goodbye to everyone. It seems strange that leaving England last September I felt strangely un-emotional. The excitement and adventure lay out ahead of us and had been building up for so long that there wasn't really a hint of sadness as we pedaled off. Then when my dad came out, saying goodbye seemed really hard because you realise in that sudden contrast what you miss from home. It was even harder saying goodbye to everyone flying off last Saturday.

We were stood there in the airport just 9 hours from England. Having just listened to planning for all the weddings, stag parties and good times we would miss back home we felt miserable. All too soon Hol and I were sat on a windy bench waiting for the bus nibbling on carrot sticks and longing for the week not to have ended so quickly. I always told myself it would be hard being away for so long, but I have very rarely felt it so acutely as the other day. There are usually challenges to be met, the next place to think about and the knowledge that the novelty of getting home will wear off very quickly. However, there was something about saying goodbye the other day that had me choked up pretty badly and I found it hard to shake off the feeling.

However, I am glad to say that having now left Denver it feels a lot better. Since then we have got our first proper experience of Greyhound buses which Hol will do justice to in a full blog soon, and also accidentally got involved in auditions for American Idol. We went in to the theatre just needing a pee and were almost thrown on stage in front of the judges. I figured something from Manowar's back catalogue would shake things up but mercifully we were too late to sign up.

Now the sun is out, we are headed West again and Hol's family is due out in a few days. I even have a new pair of flourescent yellow pants from our wanderings in Denver. Roll on the next ten months!

* the crossword answer is 'mates'

NERD FILE: El Paso to Vancouver

For the last 2 months I have spent a unreasonable amount of time studying maps or glued to a speedometer being alternately fried to a crisp in the desert, huddled in snowy blizzards or sheltering in the tent from blood thirsty mosquitoes. I never seemed to learn, as Hol did early on, that knowing exactly how high we have to climb will not make the pass lower, that knowing the hourly wind shifts for each day will only make you more angry when the supposed brisk tailwind is slowing you to a crawl going downhill, and that the supposed water stops on the map only have a 50:50 chance of materialising in the heat. I still don't understand why map makers haven't yet come up with a symbol to mark a deserted trailer with a bourbon sluggin', gun totin' owner that differs from the one they use for 'town: population < 100'

Total Distance: 2753.6 miles
Days on the road: 53 [46 on the bike]
Total Time Pedaling: 192h 26m
Longest Day: 115.2 miles, 7h 20m of pedalling
Highest Pass: Red Mountain Pass, Colorado 11,007 ft
Longest Climb: 5,100ft vertical gain from Durango to Silverton over Coal Bank and Molas Passes
Top Speed: 49.2 mph (dammit)
Worst headwind: Gusting 45mph 2nd day riding to Radium Springs, New Mexico
Coldest Night Camping: Fontenelle Creek, Wyoming -7 degrees C
National Parks: The Black Canyon of the Gunnison, The Tetons, Yellowstone, North Cascades
Best signpost: Next to a Wendy's advert saying Home of the famous 3/4lb cheese triple we found a vet in Sedro-Woolley advertising the Home of the famous $25 cat neuter

Having chosen to ride up the spine of the Rockies also meant we took in our fair share of passes. In the course of crossing the continental divide 8 times we took in the following passes:

Coal Bank Pass, Colorado: 10,630 ft
Molas Pass, Colorado: 10,879 ft
Red Mountain Pass, Colorado: 11,007 ft
Indian Creek Pass, Utah: 9,100 ft
Francis Creek Pass, Utah: 8,400 ft
Bondurant Pass (The Rim), Wyoming: 7,900 ft
Craig Pass, Wyoming: 8,262 ft
Virginia City Pass, Montana: 6,950 ft
Badger Pass, Montana: 6,760 ft
Big Hole Pass, Montana: 7,630 ft
Chief Joseph Pass, Montana: 7,264 ft
Lost Trail Pass, Montana: 7,014 ft
Tiger Pass, Washington: 3,300 ft
Sherman Pass, Washington: 5,575 ft
Wauconda Pass, Washington: 4,310 ft
Loup Loup Summit, Washington: 4,020 ft
Washington Pass, Washington: 5,477 ft
Rainy Pass, Washington: 4,855 ft

High Points: Meeting someone who claimed to ride at 65mph on the flat on their bike and pedalled so hard smoke came off his wheels, seeing the Black Canyon of the Gunnison for the first time, almost every down hill, every tail wind, 5 days off in Jackson with new friends and family.

Low Points: Agonizingly cold hands coming down in a blizzard into Silverton without warm gloves, the 4th puncture and wheel about to collapse after riding 108 miles with only another 7 to go Vernal, running out of water in the desert.

Luckiest moments: Our tyres delaminating and collapsing just as we pulled into Durango. We had just come flying down a twisting 4 mile descent dodging oil trucks and RVs and it was home to the first bike shop in miles and miles.

Scariest moment: Front tyre blowout after hitting a rock at 40mph coming down the main road from Lost Trail Pass, being chased by packs of dogs in New Mexico.

Thanks to my Dad for sending our gear over to El Paso, Charley and Kamala for getting us on our way, the hosting from Stuart and Veronica in Alburquerque, Jason and Devon for the bed and the survival kit in Durango, Breton for letting us sleep in his airstream in Montrose, KP for the free overhaul for Carlos in Vernal, Dick and Nancy for the brilliant guided tour of Jackson, Sally for our R&R base in Vancouver and many more who made it such a flippin' sweet trip.

So that is about it for now on the bike.

We are now ready to do a more leisurely return loop into the US. Having spent so much time in small town America, it's time to check out the cities courtesy of Amtrak and Greyhound. It's going to take a little bit of adjusting. Day 1 in Vancouver and looking for books to read, we strayed into 'Little Sisters' second hand bookshop. I faltered at the door at the rainbow feather boas and arty black and white male nudes, but Hol had dived straight in. The fact that I was genuinely looking for a copy of Lord of the Rings seemed apt, but I managed to just stop Hol before she engaged the assistant in hunt on my behalf.

We are told the US rail system is the preserve of over talkative freaks and weirdos and so I can only think we will fit right in. We have a couple of days in Seattle before a 23hr ride on the Coast Starlight to San Francisco on the 15th and then a 33hr ride on the California Zephyr to Denver on the 24th.

We have also got our final sea leg booked aboard the HANJIN Madrid. A little different from Lista Light as it weighs in at 69,000 tons, is 278m long and cruises at 27 knots. We'll be setting sail from Vancouver to Gwangyang in South Korea on the 19th August for an eleven day crossing.

So... we made it

2750.1 miles and 53 days of riding. I don't want to be melodramatic, but I think its safe to say that was an epic adventure.

The closing stages weren't easy ones. We hadn't looked to closely at the map of the Northwest of the USA before but it looked to us like that page of the atlas had been screwed up, thrown in the bin, retrieved and then been just slightly uncrumpled and left, well... lumpy. However, we were keen to get to Vancouver for Nick's birthday and so rode 21 consecutive days from Jackson Wyoming over 5 states and many, many mountain passes. Knees, bike and bums did surprisingly well at holding up despite noises, both literal and metaphorical, from all. Money saving for the upcoming city times meant we also stuck to camping on rec grounds on the edges of towns with no showers and such. Canned chilli dinners became more frequent as fatigue after long days stifled our 'one pan' creativity. Smells got worse, clothes crustier and conversation mono-sylabbic as we gradually retreated into a pedaling machine not all that fit for the civilized world. Scorching days of up to 100 degrees beat down on us for longer as the sun rose earlier and set later the further North we got, and we found ourselves desperate for shade at the end of the days. The damper climate also bought out the insects. This all compounded with an attack of hay fever and consequent sleepless nights meant that we were spandex zombies as we autopiloted our way through the suburbs of Vancouver.

But determination was very high and with fitness levels at a peak we were eating up 90 mile days regularly. The challenge of time brushed all doubts to one side and whatever our aches and pains were telling us we were set on living it up in Vancouver to see in Nick's 28th year. After two days of feasting on Greek, Japanese and Belgian meals, cookies and cakes, sparkling wine, cocktails, Tanqueray and tonics and pints of Guinness it was well worth the rush!

So for all the drama above, the last couple of weeks of the trip were as spectacular as any. Following fast flowing rivers out of Montana we found hidden green valleys sprinkled with European villages with cherry and apple orchards, vegetable patches and wild flowers, whilst the snowy peaks of Canada loomed vast in the distance. Our most surreal night was definitely when we returned to our campsite next to the river to find preparations in full swing for a local paramedics training afternoon. 50 civilians were being made up to look as if a drunk gunman had gone on the rampage whilst panicked students tried to save their lives. We couldn't have asked for a better afternoon's entertainment. When you have a very friendly 10 year old with a hugely realistic gun shot wound to the face asking if we had been to see the live Dr. Who show in London there is little that seems wrong with the world. We even got a free BBQ dinner after telling people our tales.

Then we crossed over into Idaho for 2 days and followed the Pend Oreille lake. It looked on the surface like Lake Maggiore until we found a roller disco on the other side playing Hall and Oates on loop. We both got very excited on seeing such a huge expanse of water after being so land locked for so long. This was only just pipped as highlight of Idaho by seeing a rotund (pushing 20 stone) woman whizzing about on rollerskates in a white wedding dress. Our one night in Idaho we found a camping spot right by the lake in the town of Sandpoint. It was prom night, there was a brew pub and it was folk night at the local whisky bar. It suited us very well. The night ended with Nick getting chatted up by a local girl who 'accidentally' split some of her drink over him whilst I boogied to the tunes in a whiskey haze. After much dropping in of the word fiancé we ended up getting invited to a tofu breakfast which was hastily skipped in the morning when we woke up with steaming hangovers and a 65 mile day in front of us. The only consolation was that 3 pitchers of Mick Duff's IPA meant we were probably the only people ever to stay in a tent within 20 feet of the main east to west coast trainline of the US and get a solid night's sleep.

Washington was as mixed a state as the whole journey thus far. Everyday brought on the challenge of a new mountain pass and varying temperatures. Just when we thought we were well entrenched in the green, forested lands of the North we cycled through another dry and boiling desert and popped out the other side to climb up to snow level Alpine mountains again. Very confusing. Then we finally hit the North Cascades National Park. Our final land mark for the trip and the 6th mountain pass in 5 days. We conquered the 17 mile 4,000' climb to Washington Pass (5575') smoothly and so pushed on for another 75 miles of a headwind that meant you had to pedal hard downhill and fight to stay vaguely out of the middle of the road. Huge Alpine covered mountains with steep dropping valleys and water spilling out over rocks everywhere you turn. It was a magical and dramatic day of awesome passes, enchanted streams and terrifying wind. The perfect accompaniement to our current reading of Lord of the Rings (you can imagine how flippin' cool we look in a campsite reading matching editions of The Hobbit and Fellowship of the Ring of an evening). Once we made it through The Cascades the mountains gradually became foothills and before we knew it we were on flat farming plains that stretched out towards the Pacific. For the first time in weeks we didn't have a huge mountain range blocking the path in front of us.

On the last day we had 46 miles to cycle over the Canadian border and through the suburbs of Surrey, Guildford and Richmond into the heart of Vancouver. We ended up cycling over 70 miles as we struggled through road closures and one way systems. The closure of the only bike friendly bridge into the city meant we got stuck on the very bike unfriendly freeway for a while before hauling Carlos over a giant suspension bridge, squeezed between a huge drop one side and rushing trucks on the other. All in all it was a pretty terrifying day that eventually took us to a spot in the sun overlooking the Pacific only to see the ice cream van pull away as we walked towards it. It was only after a pitcher of beer and a plate of Nachos in our hotel before we could calm down and really contemplate what we had just completed.

It seems strange to have finished it now. We lived on the bike for just under 2 months checking wind, inclines, tyre pressures and applying copious amounts of vaseline to all manner of regions best not discussed. Arriving in a big city is a huge shock to the system but a good one. It feels like we have made it half way round the world and when we looked across the harbour and saw a Hanjin container ship that is sister to what we will be setting sail in for South Korea it felt like a big milestone. Time to rest.

More photos here for those who are interested:

Wyoming and Montana: snow, grizzlies and geysers
Idaho, Washington and British Columbia: alpine wonderland, more mountains, Nick's new shiny red cycling top

Also, Nick will be posting a nerd file of cycling trivia sometime soon.

The big and small of Spring

2000 miles done and dusted, we have finally left the desert behind us and its time to head West.

Since arriving in Wyoming and traveling up into Montana, the last 2 weeks have been filled with awesome mountains, alarmingly close wildlife encounters and incredibly generous hosting. On arriving in Jackson excitement was high. A highly anticipated destination being home of the Grand Teton Mountain Range (French for The Big Boob), gateway to Yellowstone and where we planned to have 5 days off the bike with our first Tuppen visitor. On arrival we were welcomed in by Dick and Nancy; a friend's aunt and uncle who had offered us a place to stay. From the photo of us on the tandem on their fridge to the string of gifts on our departure, this couple offered us all the warmth and comfort of a real home we miss so much on the road. Being proud long time residents and genuine cowboy and cowgirl, they gave us an expert tour of town and the surrounding mountains. We were fed intriguing tales of days in the wilderness, whilst being quietly in awe at how well Dick could pull off a big buckled belt, cowboy boots, tight denims and tooth pick. Hanging out with strangers and feeling completely at home is now one of my favourite pastimes.

It then felt even more like home when Nick's dad rocked up in Jackson for 4 days of big feeds, good booze, lots of chinwagging and a bit of wilderness trekking. It was a perfect break with clear skies and warm sun, but to top it off we came within 5m of a wild Grizzly crossing a road on the first day, saw a second one on a hillside in the middle of nowhere on the second and had a guest Moose to dinner on the third. It was a humbling experience, but the downside was Nick could no longer calm my nerves about camping by saying 'bears are so rare we will never see one'.

Over the course of the four days iced lakes thawed, snowy trails became trekable, aspens came out turning the hillsides bright green and wildlife frolicked in the plains after a long cold winter. Spring sprung right in front of our eyes and we soaked up every minute of it. From Jackson we cycled into Yellowstone where we found our way blocked by some terrifyingly huge bison a couple of times, saw another bear, went from 6 feet of snow to hot grassy plains to geyser fields, all in one day's ride. From there its been mountains and valleys, green, rainy, head winds, tail winds, snow and sun all the way up to Missoula.

But despite such joys, it is suddenly strange being in the largest town we've been for about 5 weeks. The city girl in me has been crying out for civilization as we crawl from small town to small town. Unfortunately Missoula hasn't really lived up to expectations, being the largest city in Montana it seems to be full of awkward youths looking for a high life that just doesn't really exist out here. There are bling covered teenagers playing loud music, cars racing each other down the roads, hippies walking around with no shoes, drunks on corners and other weird goings on. We now rather miss the friendly feeling of the 100 population settlements out in the mountains and it is making us focus on the finish line.

Suddenly the challenge is starting to take its toll. With fitness levels peaking, Carlos in working order and knees seeming to hold up, physically the remaining 700 miles feel like a done deal (touch wood). So with that challenge softening the mental strain sets in. We've seen so much on our way up already the brain becomes a bit saturated. We've been through deserts, canyons, along rivers, through gorges, in blizzards, in forest, through national parks over mountain peaks. It feels like we've seen it all and so now its tempting just to get our heads down and bash out long days to get there. But we've got to hold back and soak up the last 700 miles. We both know how much we will miss the bike and the physical challenge once we have stopped. When you are pedaling it feels great and when you find a good camping spot you look back on the day with a big grin. But if you stop pedaling and you aren't in quite the right place the evening can be a dark place. There's only so much tinned chilli and rice one can take. And we still haven't learned that going for a walk around deserted small towns probably won't result in finding a pub full of friends.

Nonetheless, the hugeness of this country does not cease to amaze and fascinate me. Every mile we go a little closer we get to understanding what makes this part of America tick and why it is so different to us. This nation has got everything. They can do whatever they want and see every variety of landscape on their home turf. Holidays are short and so weekend or evening leisure time is everything. Since everyone has so much space toys are plentiful – boats, quadbikes, motorbikes, mountain bikes, kayaks, RVs, junk to tinker with, tools for making more stuff etc. There's not a whole lot of incentive to get on a plane and see the world, something that I now completely understand. In fact its a bit odd that we spend so much time trying to escape England when we could just settle in and soak up everything its got to offer. Maybe easier said from afar, or maybe everyone else is and we're the big hypocrites.

Gas guzzling is another issue that horrified me to begin with but I've now sussed out. There is no public transport in small town America, distances are huge and there's more than likely to be snow in your way for some of the year. Cars are definitely excessive but comparing it to suburban 4 wheel driving in the UK is a long stretch. The American psyche revolves around freedom and no one wants to be told they 'can't'. Hence no one wears helmets on motorbikes, gas is guzzled, plastic is plentiful and anyone can buy themselves a gun (all of which still make me flinch). But this is just the culture out here, its not as if America wants to destroy the world. In fact most want to preserve it (especially the hunters, which took me a while to understand) and are very proud of their beautiful land and wildlife. That openness that we often mock for being fake or weird (or definitely would do in London) is genuine friendliness and its great! We have felt welcomed in everywhere, are always helped out if stuck and everyone wants to go out of their way to make our time here a bit better. That is everyone except the donut munching, gun swagging Texan that nearly refused me entry to the US.

Speaking of which, that leaves me with only two real problems in this society. Firstly, perhaps the one reason that America has gained such a bad rep in recent years. In a worryingly large number of small towns in America the only news channel you can receive is Fox News. 24 hours of scare mongering and sensationalist reporting of half facts, if facts at all. I will not linger on it for fear of a rant not suitable for this blog. Secondly, a fast food culture has led to a huge number of people wanting and expecting life to be as easy as possible. Because there is endless space companies have provided just that. You can get your dinner, do your banking, grab a coffee, get gas, collect your mail, get groceries etc whilst barely leaving your car. In short, if you're lazy and gullible then you are doomed to die obese and terrified of the rest of the world.

So only about 700 miles to go until we hit Vancouver. Plenty more mountain passes and by all accounts a lot more rain. We are grateful for the Montana Standard's attempt at portraying a varied weather pattern but we have just about managed to read between the lines:

Today: 63/40 - A chance of afternoon thunderstorms
Tuesday: 66/37 - Spotty storms after the noon hour
Wednesday: 71/38 - A slim chance of a thunderstorm
Thursday: 70/40 - A stray afternoon storm possible
Friday: 72/41 - Isolated afternoon thunderstorms