A Constant Contradiction: The Paradox of a Technology Era Youth in the Wilderness

I didn't get far today... and I don't mind. In between Boulder and the next town of Escalante, there is a 30 mile stretch of the 1.7 million acre Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument; an enormous, empty barren land set aside by President Clinton in 1996. The spellbinding terrain twisted and turned through miles of eroded rock. At one point I was at the zenith of the park (I think) gawking at the limitless landscape only to descend into the lowest point... and then back up again.

After the final scenic overlook, I noted a small dirt road that led to another "scenic overlook". This one had a radio tower extending from it with a concrete hut next to it. I pedaled up the extra 100 feet, then climbed atop the concrete hut. God lay before me. I sat up there for a good while, even taking a short nap. Eventually, I left for the final 10 miles into Escalante.

I stopped at the visitor center and was met by the enthusiastic Karen. Karen had recently moved to the area with her husband, was in her late 40's, and explained to me the general populace of Escalante; retirees. When she learned of my little bike trip, she gripped my wrist expressing her excitement. She was a real charcter. I was literally starving though and she recommended a handul of restaurants. All I heard was Subway. 

So off I was to Subway to rejuvenate. I then planned on taking off toward the town of Henrieville 40 miles away. A thunderstorm caused me to wait a bit. In the span I waited, the winds picked up and the storm looked to be an all-night event. I went inside the lobby of a motel to organize myself.

Within this motel, I met the kind owner by the name of Dan. He had relocated from Michigan to get away from his crazy divorcee and accept a job as a hotel manager. A weekly salary, and apartment comes with the job; not a bad gig. The man walked with considerable joint pain and seemed to have a memory that often betrayed him but he was nice to talk to. He spoke of the high moral values of the town because of the Mormon faith and the lack of drug problems with what youth existed.

From Dan's motel, I called the campground across the street, which brought me in contact with the pleasant host, Andre. Andre would allow me to hang out on the office porch for an hour, watching the storm and using his wifi. When I finally decided to stay, he gave me a gracious 10% discount. Every time I've left the campground on my bike, he's given a neighborly wave upon each exit and entrance.

Another guy I had the pleasure of seeing again was Michael. I don't know if I brought him up on the blog but we've crossed each other once daily for the past three days. Our first acquaintence at Hite, we spent about half an hour chatting in the middle of the 100 degree heat. The next day, we chatted for forty five minutes. Today, as I spotted him pedaling past the campground, I waved at him and he cycled over to me. An hour long conversation ensued. Michael's an awesome kid. He's a year younger than me, has a girlfriend he's crazy about, and pretty cool parents who biked with him through two states. He's also cycling solo. Despite being youner than me, I look up to him. He's one of the few guys on the trip that really gets it and he has a good head on his shoulders.

After Michael left, I got ice cream and biked a mile up the road to the Escalante State Park to go on a hike. I ventured off the monotonously tepid trail looping all around the face of the mountain. I scaled straight up it for the best view. 

I am currently sitting in a blue, metal chair with a small wiry table of equal design in front of me. My bare feet are extended upon the table and the sun is retreating behind the large mound of rock directly ahead. I can hear an amateur guitarist playing chords somewhere in the campground. The tone is social yet quiet and calming. Within this campground, there is a mutual understanding or attempt to intertwine with the natural surroudings, despite the gargantuan RV's and emissive, spewing, walled-in motor vehicles. There is a strong attempt. Why pay money to experience what comes naturally? Because despite all our technological dependencies, we still yearn for the instinctual, genetic relationship with our home; the natural planet. 

       One portion of the Escalante Grand Staircase Park

From my scenic route to the top of this little mountain. Before me is the reservoir of the Escalante State Park.

                               Sunset in Escalante.

A Haven Wherever My Encampment Is

I'm writing this from my sleeping bag, camped off of a backroad about 30 feet up from the pavement. I'm laying beneath the night sky, peering up at the moon hidden behind the haze of the cloudy Utah sky. The sun has recently recessed behind the 200-300 foot rock wall that stands authoritatively over me. I can hear the owls beginning to stir, the squeaking of the blind bats flying furiously about, the chirping of the crickets, and the occasional buzz of a passing (likely lost) motorist. Peering around at the trees, rocks, and dirt, I realize in this moment of peaceful solidarity with nature; I am perfectly content.

Despite going to sleep at the hotel dreaming of the continental breakfast, I woke up as it was ending at 9:08. I missed the waffles and pancakes... oh well. Plans of hitting the road by 9 were also dashed... by waking up at that very time. However, I did get to meet the family staying two rooms down.

The wife of Hawaiian descent asked if I was cycling because I didn't have a car. Upon my response, she eagerly got her husband Aaron to come talk to me. Aaron was probably 15 years my senior and had cycled the TransAm about 10 years ago. He was tall, thin yet athletic, and fit the average biker profile. He beamed when speaking about the trip, and we shared similar thoughts of the experience. The family was heading to Moab for the day. 

I hit the road, mentally preparing for a pretty difficult climb but nothing I haven't done before... or so I thought. Talking with the clerk in the hotel lobby, I found that the elevation of the area sat at 5500 feet. When I got to the summit of the mountains leading to Boulder, there was a sign reading: "Summit 9600 feet". Okay, so the 6 hours it took me to go 30 or so miles wasn't in vain. I was noticeably more worn out and tired today throughout the ride but this led to many stops and brief explorations through unknown paths. With this sense of adventure, I was led to many beautiful and breathtaking views atop the "Boulder Mountains". I was in no hurry to leave. 

However, it seemed like the mountain was not keen upon my slow, inquisitive voyage through its mysterious mounds. Thunderstorms, and dark clouds hovered over every few miles. At such high altitudes, rain is twice as common atop the mountains. One rainy, damp climb to 8000 feet would yield to sunshine on the downhill of 7000 feet. However, at the summit is where the rain started to come down hardest.

The steep downhill was slightly terrifying and bone-numbingly cold. In my poncho, I attempted the beginning of the descent but the painful slapping of the clumps of rain upon my face forced me to pull over. After waiting under the poor shelter of a pine tree for a few minutes, I decided the sooner I got to a lower altitude, the sooner the rain would let up. Tightening the poncho's hood around my head until a small window of vision was left, I pushed myself off. I didn't pedal one time for the next 10 miles into Boulder. At 9000 feet, the road resembled a flowing river and my brakes were being put to the absolute test. At 8000 feet, the rain began to let up and the path became more traversable. At 7000 feet, the road was all but damp in a few spots and the rain had all but finished. Curious drivers beginning the climb in the opposite lane gazed questionably as we passed each other. 

In Boulder, I found the cheapest restaurant in town (which wasn't) and munched into my only meal other than breakfast. It seems, despite my best intentions, that I am still spending a great deal of money on food and treats. After every span of miles with no services, I enter towns itching to purchase a soda, ice cream, something. Perhaps it is the result of being raised in a consumer culture, my governmental purpose of putting my earnings back into the system that watches over me. I'm still attempting to overcome this "materialistic" urge or at least find other means by satisfying it (hunting? Walmart?). 

This is my journal. These are my thoughts. I hope I don't live to regret sharing them with the Internet ;).

Diverging from the paved road to find my own scenic view atop Boulder Mountain.

               The Summit (9600 ft.)

Another scenic view off a dirt road that led past a curiously shy and apprehensive dog.

    Waking up at my campground at sunrise this morning: plenty of pinks, purples, and pleasure.

"You're A Chameleon"

I limped into Hanksville yesterday evening after being on US 95 for over 120 miles. The road was punishing and the surroundings were bone dry. Thankfully for the final 40 miles, the heat dissipated and the storm clouds rolled in. Apparently in Southern Utah, the days are filled with penetrating sun while the evenings have wind and clouds cover old Helios. However, during Monsoon Season (July-September) the rainfalls are plenty. But in the last 3 years of this drought, annual precipitations in much of the Utah I've seen is less than 7 inches per year. 

The last 20 or so miles were all supposed to be downhill but the powerful headwinds forced a painfully slow ride. Only about 10 or so miles out from the illusive Hankville, I was startled to hear the slow pitter-patter of feet upon the pavement. Glancing behind me, a coyote was slowly bounding toward me, no more than 15 feet away. As I shifted my startled torso around my bike, the bike sharply swerved off the asphalt and into the dirt... Oh shit. I swiftfully swung one leg over the bike and turned at the four-legged foe. He stopped. A primal instinct kicked in and I gave a low-pitched roar. The coyote turned and ran off into the field of small adobe mounds. I wondered if he had friendly intentions. Two lone wolves out in the middle of nowhere, perhaps have a shared type of sentiment. Probably not.

So as I slowly turned the pedals on my bike, I passed a burger joint and gas station in the barbwire fenced Hanksville (normal in Utah?). Swaying with each push, I passed one of two hotels. I thought I heard someone yell my name. I turned toward the motel, and on the second/top floor: the whole gang of MS cyclists were yelling my name, beers outstretched in hand. I meandered over and Anthony threw me down a cold one: the tastiest beer of all time. I had found shelter amongst good friends for the night.

The next morning, we were treated to a continental breakfast courtesy of the motel. As usual, I ate lots... and might've played a song on the jukebox... and it may have been Michael Jackson's "Don't Stop Till Ya Get Enough". So uh, anyway, everyone went back to the hotel. It was swiftly declared that everyone would leave at ten. As per usual, I couldn't get my shit together. So, I departed around 11 toward Capital Reef Park.

Midway, shortly before the town of Caineville, a sign reading "Historical Site" peaked my interest. The nest sign shortly after pointed to my left and read: "Old Historic Site Giles". I was sold. I pulled off onto a dirt road and ventured to a fork in the road: one path leading to a dead end, the other to a stream. Giles was past the stream. I leaned my bike against the dirt wall, took my shoes off, waded across the ankle deep stone flooring, and continued on the trail. 

"Holy hell, it's hot. Where is this little village? I should've taken my bike", I questionably thought.

2 and a half miles later, I finally arrived to the nonexistant Giles. There was no hint of the original Morman town that Henry Giles had found in 1883. Abandoned in 1919, I wondered if the Utah landscape could bury a place of 200 inhabitants that quickly. There was an old trailer with boots around the door handle and an outline of a pot on the stove through the window. Time to leave.

 I thought it would be faster to walk to the road I could see in my distant vision; mistake. I walked through a frighteningly muddy area of the river (still in my shoe) and crawled through the brush. Eventually I reached the pavement of US 12... then walked two miles down to my bike; every passing car staring curiously. I found a German novel on the side of the road browned at the edges from the baking sun.

With all this time lost, I looked to see if I could get a meal in Caineville before the trek through Capital Reef Park. I stopped at a wonderful, little organic farm in the "town" of Caineville. I got the most delicious salad, equipped with sliced squash, cucumbers, spinach, and a slice of bread with a purple basil spread. The creator, Matt, sat down outside on the tree stump seats next to me after serving it. 

Matt was an inch or two taller than me with blonde hair and a scraggly beard. His blue, long sleeved shirt had dirt and sweat stains all over it. He was in his mid 20's, fresh out of college, and slowing down in a small town after living in Salt Lake City for awhile. Talking with Matt was probably the most intelligent, calming and philosophical conversations I've had on this trip. We delved into deep matters for at least 45 minutes after I had finished eating. Eventually, I had to cover some real milage to meet up with the MS crew in (at least for today) Singletree Camp. 

I thought I entered Capital Reef several times as Utah's landscape looks like something out of Mars. I passed the entrance sign and pulled into a restroom area where I hoped for a water fountain. No dice. But I did meet Tim and his sister  Rosie. They were heading to Moab to explore Arches National Park. Tim was immensely interested in my trip and gave me a few gatorades for the ride! I continued.

Capital Reef Park was pretty awesome. Glen Canyon came more as a shock to me in terms of sheer open space but Capital Reef had some towering castles of sandstone, dirt, and rock. There would be several layers of different colored rocks that revealed their history or age. However, it seemed like my mind was dwelling much on how late I would arrive to the Singletree Camp. I was losing daylight fast. 

At a rest stop at the visitors center (22 miles from Singletree), I ate a snack and paused out front. During this time, two French accented women walked up to me from their car asking if I'd lost a bag. It wasn't mine but it was definitely the bag to one of the MS cyclist's bikes; I had a mission. 

I hitched the large biker bag to the back of my bike and pedaled into a windstorm. Gusts of 15-20 mph slapped me in the face while I began chugging up the beginning of an eventual 2500 foot climb to Singletree. It doesn't help when you feel like your dragging a ton of bricks. 10 miles out, I passed the sign marking my exodus from Capital Reef, a real beaut. It was 7:15.

On exit, I began to notice the high volume of motels... beckoning to me.

"I wonder how much that Best Western is?" I thought to myself. At the front of the paved parking lot to the Best Western stood the French Canadian family that had found the bag, rooting me on with a water and bag of chips.

Now, I'd like to tell you that this inspired me to pedal all the way to Singletree... but I'd be lying. I caved. I moteled it. I made contact with Duncan and the bag will be picked up tomorrow morning. I'm getting my clothes cleaned, my skin cleaned, and shedding some weight from my inventory. 

So, that's what's good.

Also, Sean correctly addressed that the address for letters in Ely should read "Brickcone", not "Brickstone". My bad, gracias for reading.

Ahhh yes, so the Mormans of Giles resided in specially-made trailers. Neato.

Sitting under a tree at Caineville's "Mesa Organic Market".

           Entering Capital Reef Park

Some giant kings of rock over here. Also some extremely speedy moving drivers. I wonder if they even saw anything.

               Exiting Capital Reef.

The only picture out of chronological order: the river crossed to reach Giles.

Alive and Pedaling

Update...

It's been three days. In that span I: saw breathtaking rock formations, stealth camped in the middle of a million acre park and experienced real stargazing, met the gracious Lulu and her husband at a rest stop in Hite, met park rangers Bob and Rosemary who provided ice, biked 150 miles in two days, biked in 105* weather, saw a double rainbow, saw 700 year old Indian ruins, met another cyclist named Michael who also biked with the MS guys, came face to face with a coyote (he was cool), learned all about the Colorado plateau, and somehow, I accidentally caught back up with the MS cyclists at a motel in Hanksville. I take this as a sign. I'll be with them again today.

Today, we roll through Capitol Reef Park; another stunning and endless area of curious rock formations.

Also, all the good pictures of the park are on my digital camera as my phone died. These pictures below... suck compared to the others. Oh well.

For pictures of those, google "Glen Canyon", "White Canyon" or "Natural Bridges Park"

Overlooking Native American ruins.

A road through the side of a mammoth eroded rock crust. Other side was crazy.

            Just before the storm.

               Double Rainbow!

Conditions on Planet X Appear Favorable; My Exodus

I could hear all of the MS guys getting ready to ride; Pete tinkering with a bike, Rob's trademark English accent, and Beth's worried voice complaining of the day's milage. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.

I got up at 9 to get some complementary coffee and talked with the owner of the park, Billy. He was a little shorter than me, in his late 30's but still had a very youthful array about him, possibly hinted by his athletic appearance. He had a wife and two kids. We chatted a bit but there seemed to be a lot going on in the lobby so I quietly drank my coffee and returned to base. 

As I packed up the last of my things, Billy appeared again on his golf cart. This time, we talked and talked about what lay ahead in Utah, Billy's friend who had done the journey, and other cyclists that had passed through the town. Billy was very encouraging and welcoming to me. He recommended a local restaurant by the name of Ponderosa down the road to eat at before leaving town.

Inside of the restaurant, I was seated by an older woman who didn't appear in the mood to chitchat. She gave me a pitcher of  water and started clearing a table.

"So, how are you today?" I asked her.

For the next 15-20 minutes, Louise would tell me about her plan of moving, her two kids (one 9, one 17), leaving the restaurant she's worked at for 20 years, the celebrities that have passed through town (Hilary Swank, Tom Cruise, Patrick Swayzee), and other cyclists she'd seen. Eventually, another waitress came into the room to pull her back to work. Breakfast was delicious but the friendly conversation with Louise was my favorite. 

From  Dolores, I began my trek to nowhere in particular. On the way out, I stopped at a museum about Native American heritage from the region. It was $3 but when I learned of this, I attempted to disengage the curator and continue biking. Recognizing my trademark frugalness she said, "Please be our guest today and just have a look around. No charge." I was incredibly grateful. After two hours there, I hit the road once again.

A few miles down the road, I encountered Alex and his father Chris, biking from San Francisco to Virginia. They had recently left 20 days ago, which I thought was rather remarkably fast. It made me feel like I had quite a bit of time. The two gentleman were wonderful to chat with and very inquisitive/interested in my journey. They couldn't get over the fact I was on a mountain bike, and remarked it was the first they'd seen on the trip. Hell, I haven't even seen another mountain bike on this whole trip. The three of us exchanged blogs and departed.

The hills out of Dolores rolled up and down, an even amount of both, balancing the effort. The clouds approaching Utah appeared much more closer to the ground and alive. As it got darker, the purples and pinks of the sky almost made the environment feel like a stage with smoke flowing over and filtered lights brightening the scene.

I stopped at a diner to grab some food and patiently waited for the horizon's sun to sink lower. As it did, the colors began to change more and more until the landscape appeared like something on a foreign planet.

I biked the last 8 miles to the Utah/Colorado border where I took a self-portrait of myself awaiting my departure from reality. It was getting dark quickly. I was still 25 miles from the next town and I sure as hell wasn't paying for a campground. I got back onto my bike.

The next couple miles had nothing but desert brush and small bushes. Then, I saw a large area of trees, looking totally out of their element. I found my place to sleep. I waited for the last truck to pass me and darted off into the woods with my bike. I found a solid hiding place for my campground up against a barbwire fence.

I started my book, Desert Solitaire by Edward Abby. Recommended by my couchsurfing host, it's ironically about Abby's 2 years in Moab, UT as a park ranger. Moab was 50 miles off route from the next town of Monticello. I started scheming. After three chapters, I came to the conclusion that Abby's mastery of the English language already vividly instilled the landscape within my brain. Not to mention, Moab already sounded like a lot of what I was seeing and going to see.

I eventually fell asleep with an alarm set for 5:00 this morning. The sunrise was...mesmerizing. My bike ride was like cycling through a painting with the colors bleeding down the canvas. Wildlife was rampant at that time in the morning as well.

So, it's 12 now and I'm at a Subway in  Blanding, UT. Everything's getting recharged and I am stocking up on water. The next 73 miles from here have no services, food, water, nada. I'd be surprised if there was service out there in the vast natural. Tell you the truth, I could use an escape from this damn Iphone. Christmas came at the perfect time. The Subway guys were nice enough to let me hang here until the heat dissipates. Where I'm going, it's 110* right now. 

Word.

At the hot spring in Rico, CO, I found these badboys laying unclaimed next to the hot tub. They've seen some action with me so far but I still feel like an asshole in them. Duncan says I look like Jose Canseco.

The Anasazi Heritage Center; the only Bureau of Land Management owned museum in the United States. It was oh-so-nice.

See what I mean about the clouds? Approaching Utah.

                  Close Encounters.

My designated camp site for the evening.

Early morning bike rides need to become a habit. 

Shortly after Monticello on the way to Blanding.

P.s. I'm having one more "Christmas" but the emphasis is just on letters. So, if you're reading this, I would really appreciate a little personal something just telling me about your summer and life. You can send some gifts if you'd like but the personal, little things is what I'm looking for.

Ralph Johnson

General Delivery

2600 Bristlecone Ave.

Ely, Nevada

89301-99999

Philosophical Findings and the Companionship of the Conscience

First and foremost, a big thank you to Derick and the Logans, Miss Dot, Mr. Stan, Aunt Dede, Uncle Wayne, Aunt Jinny, the Seabrooks, PopPop, and of course, my mama. I had a most wonderful Christmas thanks to all of you. It was the most awesome. I can't thank you enough or tell you how greatful I am of everyone's gratuitous gifts. You guys rule.

I woke up on the floor of Carly's house bright and early around 7. Carly had eggs, bacon, and homemade coffee going. Without hesitation, I started gathering my things. After I had all my stuff upstairs on the 1st floor, I helped Carly make the eggs. She had work at 8.

It was hard to say goodbye or attempt to convey my intense feelings of genuine love for her as she left for work. I said, "You're a wonderful individual", and squeezed her as hard as I could with my bear hug. 

Carly and I had an interesting conversation the evening before about the future of mankind (yeah, one of those). It was interesting though. I remarked that I saw two future options. One was globalization: an inevitable force sweeping up all the world's cultures into a global Capitalist Democracy. Or the second option I had never thought of until I met all these people on this journey. Perhaps, Capitalism will eventually lose its flavoring. I've learned that human beings have a genuine care and worry for other human beings that has almost always surpassed monetary value. I think that eventually, we won't need to measure our growth or happiness in property or wealth. Perhaps eventually, the love, community value, and the friendships we form will be all we need. Nice to think right? 

Carly thought that we would start all over again fairly soon. Like Mark Twain said about World War 3 being fought with sticks and stones. We're too smart for our own good and eventually Mother Nature's going to put us back in our place. I am always enthralled with wonder and amazement at these conversations. They can tell you a lot about people and their future in respect to how they see the world.

Today, I left Telluride and got ready for Christmas in Rico. Carly's roommates (Sarah and Ellie) made me aware that I would be climbing quite a bit today. I was heading up 10,300 ft. to Lizardhead Peak from Lawson Hills (8850 ft.). 

I met a guy by the name of Tony as I began my climb. I mistook him for a TransAm rider heading toward the East Coast. He had biked 60 miles that day to head to Telluride for their "Ride Festival" that night. I'd juusstt missed it. As we were talking, Duncan came riding up behind me. We would end up riding together to Rico... mostly. We built up some distance between each other at the downhill.

The downhill was almost like a metaphor for my life. As I panted my way to the peak of Lizardhead, I stood at the top and put my headphones into my ipod. I was ready to put on some "pump-up" music as I embarked onto the speedy downhill. However, the blistering pace I looked to achieve would never come. The 47 miles to Dolores was all downhill yet the angle was always so little that high speeds were never achieved. On my way down, I thought of how this is how a balanced and healthy life is like. There's no rush or need to hurry through life. As soon as I accepted that I could enjoy an average speed all the way to Dolores, I started enjoying the present scene around me.

So, Rico! 

Ellie (Carly's roommate) told me of a hot spring precisely right before you reach Rico. So, I got my packages from the post office, changed into my bathing suit, and headed down to the water to open the presents. Duncan joined... which was funny because only one kid got presents... but he was a good sport. I was happy he came down with me.

Duncan would leave the little spring area after two hours. I stayed for four hours just reading and swimming. I met about 7 people whom I shared my story with. The reactions are always awesome to see but I find myself overtaking the conversation with my story as opposed to theirs. I miss out. One fisherman named Travis wished me luck on my endeavours and drove away from the area. 20 minutes later, he came back and gave me a free beer, sandwich, and granola bar. I couldn't stop smiling and we waved like mad men at each other as he drove off. I could see that he was really happy and proud of himself for heavily influencing my day in a positive manner. Travis.. from Texas.

Eventually, I embarked upon the 35 miles on down to Dolores at 5. I had told Duncan earlier that day that I would be back on my own, away from the MS guys for awhile. I was beginning to get away from my initial reasons for doing this trip. Hanging out with the MS cyclists is amazing and fun. But I didn't sign up for fun, I'm here to learn. Things about the individual, and especially myself.

However, as I came down the mountain toward Dolores, I decided to spend one more day with the crew before I vanished. As I pulled into the campground, I ran into James, Sam, and Pete. I let them know my plan and they expressed understanding, sadness, and some worry. I'm going to miss all these guys. We each have our own path.

I spent the night watching "Dances With Wolves" with Peter. An appropriate film for the evening... I really am gonna miss these guys. 

Peace.

Leaving Telluride on the first, most steep part of the climb. Only about one mile into it. I met Tony minutes after this picture.

Lizardhead Pass was only about a mile past here. It was a beautiful scene.

Before the real climb started up to the peak, there was an absolutely breathtaking scenic overlook that Duncan and I stopped to take in.

A visual of the small grade downhill. Stoner was about 15 miles from Dolores.

One of the only pictures I took on the downhill.

To Hell With the Ride... I'm Staying in Telluride

Carly and her two roommates all had work today so by 12 o'clock, I was alone in there beautiful house nestled up on one of the mountains. I found a note upstairs on the kitchen table from Carly that told me to make myself at home. I smiled. Even thousands of miles from home, I was home. I walked out onto the balcony and gazed out upon one of the most beautiful scenes I've ever viewed. Colorado is incredible.

For a comparison in elevation, I decided to check out my other two "homes'" elevation. Cape May Court House stands at a whopping 14 ft. above sea level. Wow. Pittsburgh comes in at around 1500-1700 feet above sea level. Lastly, Telluride is at 8,750 feet above sea level. I've climbed quite a bit. There should be a pretty incredible downhill coming soon to San Francisco.

After I consumed the ginormous CalZone pizza that Carly had hand-crafted in her awesome restaraunt, I prepared to venture into town. Firstly, I had to deliver a package to one of the MS members, Laura.

The morning before I had woken up from a slumber that very well could have been eternal had I not left the company of Mike. Exiting my tent, I found myself alone at the KOA Campground. Apparently, during my sleep, all of the MS cyclists had carefully and quietly evacuated the area. As I got my stuff together, the campground staff came up telling me of a package that had just arrived for Laura. Feeling like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, I slipped it into my sleeping bag and hatched a plot to deliver the box to Laura that evening. Mission failure resulted in a delay until today.

Laura was ecstatic about the fact I biked the package all the way to her despite the delay. I got a contact high and it made me happy that she was happy. I started wandering around the town. I went to the local museum, got ice cream, and bought a $2 bracelet to "replace" the irreplacable one Joe had given me in the mail. I still hurt knowing I lost that thing. My wrist has felt naked ever since.

I ran into Duncan on the street and we sat outside an ice cream parlour on Main Street chatting and laughing loudly for about an hour. He had seen (moreso heard) a bear the day before and had the video for proof. Our humor meshes extremely well and our little social time was the highlight of the day.

So anyway, I've decided to hang out in this beautiful paradise for the day. I'll have a night out with Carly, the girls, and the MS cyclists. All is well here.

Tomorrow is Christmas in Rico. Can't wait!

The note from Carly that I greatfully awoke to.

     The view from the girls' front porch.

               The edge of Telluride.

At the museum, I found a peculiar quote from someone about The Great Depression. This is one of the only positive things I've ever read about this period of time.