Andy: Separatists.

Ooooohhhhh okay! NOW I understand how the Pilgrims felt when they crossed the big ocean in the Mayflower. Before I didn't. but now I do.

Wow, (said the People) Andy must have been a part of a Separatist movement. Just like the Pilgrims! Hmmm... I'll bet that due to Scott's sickness, Andy and Matt went ahead with the knowledge that Scott, Stu, and Ryan would travel in two days what it takes the duo in three. Yeah, (the People continued) Andy and Matt SEPARATATED from the group just like the Pilgrim's separated from England. They probably biked ahead to a town called Missoula, Montana, and got passed on the way by a hitchhiking Scott who didn't feel up to for the ride yet. Yeah, (the People said, getting close to concluding) Andy's probably waiting in a Coffee shop in Missoula for Ryan and Stu with the Goodhart Brothers.


Well guess what (this is Andy now, not the People), You people are WRONG! I'm waiting in a coffee shop AND BAKERY! Boy are you guys dumb! I practically fed you People the answer, I mean I mentioned the PILGRIMS! That screams "Bakery."

Boy, I was going to write all about Matt and my adventures away from the pack, but now I don't even know if you People are smart enough to read!

Yeah that will be it then....

Oh wait, but what about all the intelligent ANIMALS that read these blogs, they probably knew that I was waiting in a coffee shop and Bakery and not just a stand alone coffee shop.

Okay Animals, here you go:

Scott was sick. Andy and Matt are slow. We figured that Matt and I should go ahead so as to avoid getting woefully behind schedule.

Our plan was to go 55 to 70 miles each day for three days. That would get us to Missoula. The others were going to leave a day later and book it to meet us in two days.

BORING BORING.

I got drunk in hot springs

YEAH YEAH

Matt and I rode to missoula in two days instead of one.

BORING

Ummm.... I got a new wheel

BORING BORING BORING

I..... ummmmm.... I fought.... a ummmm.. I fed a Unicorn a handful of bees and she turned into a portal to Disneyland.

YEAH!

Mickey Mouse and I were playing Poker and he was losing big time. He offered me Minnie's hand in marriage. And I won!

YEAH THAT'S THE STUFF!!

Minnie transformed into a turtle, so now I'm married to a turtle! (which I suppose is only slightly worse that being married to a mouse.

OKAY... NOT AS STRONG.

And then..... Explosion. Everything blows up.

YEAH! ENDS STRONG!


Okay, I'm rereading this thing and it is clear that I am getting sleepy. I could go back and fix it, make it comprehensible... but I don't think I want to do that right now. Or ever.

Love and Kissys for all eternity,

Andy J.

Scott: So many days in Grangeville

Day One: Arrive.

Day Two: Happy birthday Ryan. Stu accidentally lit his fuel on fire, which was pretty awesome.

Night Two: On the toilet. Above the toilet. Walk to the drinking fountain. Shake uncontrollably. Walk back. Repeat for ten hours.

Day Three: Rent motel room. Sleep as much as possible. Food all gone. Condition improves to "on toilet only." High fever. Friends bring soup and yogurt. I love friends. Hear bits of commercials on T.V. "Yogurt is good for the stomach. Be careful of meningitis - starts out with flu-like symptoms."

Day Four: Matt and Andy go ahead. I try to eat food, and get about one fourth of the way through. Stomach feels only a bit uneasy. Condition improves to blistering headache and stiff neck. (not to the point of meningitis) Leave the motel room once for food. Renew room for the night.

Day Five: To be decided. Stomach not at 100%, but we desperately need to catch up. Headache gone. I'll give it a go and try to eat a lot this morning. Next 70 miles no services. I'm not eating hot dogs again. Probably ever.

Any suggestions on good things to eat for the next couple of weeks?

Stuart: Have you ever seen a woolly mammoth?

Well, after traveling up a grueling hill, we arrived right outside of Grangeville, Idaho. On the side of the road, there was a highway sign that read WOOLLY MAMMOTH SITE NEXT RIGHT 4 Miles. Andy had heard about it and really wanted to go see the mammoth, but 4 miles out of the way means 8 more miles total to get back to the main road, and on an awful, loose-gravel road, that means about 50 minutes of bicycle riding. Scott and Matt decided to just ride into town and set up camp. Ryan, Andy and I were of the opinion that 50 minutes of tushy-torture has to be worth seeing a huge, prehistoric creature amidst the farmlands of Idaho.

We called the sheriff in town to let him know we were camping there and then asked him about the site. He was extremely unenthusiastic and said, "Well, its pretty historical, if you like that kind of stuff." After hearing that it was super unimpressive, we knew we had to go whatever distance it took to see it.

On the gravel road, we kept following a maze of signs which had only a picture of a huge-tusked, rearing-up woolly mammoth and an arrow pointing us where to turn. After 4 miles of suspense, and fantasizing about seeing a roaring mammoth with long hair, all encased and preserved in a gigantic ice block, we reach a lake with a small picture of a mammoth and some fishermen. Ryan hurriedly asks them, "So, where are the woolly mammoths?" To which they respond, "There are about 15 of them... under this water. You can see the mammoths in town though about 4 blocks off the main street." The highway sign flashed through my mind, WOOLLY MAMMOTH SITE, and I realized that it was the archeological type of site (contrary to the impressive pictures along the side the road, which lead me to think of the giant ice encased creature).

Then, when we finally got to the town of Grangeville, we checked out the actual woolly mammoth site and we saw a replica of a woolly mammoth skeleton (not the real bones or anything). So to answer my own question, no, I haven't seen a woolly mammoth, but I have seen a site that probably has a whole bunch of bones in it (even though I haven't actually seen the bones). What an elusive creature.

Ryan- Birfday wonders

So, my Birfday was the 19th, and it reminded me of something (as it does every year)- MY FRIENDS ARE INCREDIBLE...

The day started off normal, like any other day, or birthday... It wasn't too special, in fact I was feeling kind of lethargic. It was our first free day in like ten days and we all had no idea what to do with our time... I had some business to take care of, but that was about it.

The original plan was to see BATMAN; DARK KNIGHT on my B-day, but the town did not have it playing. It wasn't a big deal, but my friends all could see I was disappointed. So, we went to the Grocery store and bought a ridiculous amount of food... We were having 6 chili cheese dogs (per person), chips and dip (I love dip... I don't know why, but I recently discovered I really like dipping and eating things), Ice cream (which we had to eat first 'cause it was melting), and a 12 case of Dr West (Which is Dr. Pepper, but out west). The 6 dogs turned into a challenge, in fact I think Scott was the only one who ate all 6.

At some point I turned to Andy and said, "I have to go to the bathroom," he looked back at me and said "oh, I"ll keep you company," then he turned to everyone else and said "hey guys, Ryan's got to go to the bathroom," and sure enough they all started following me... I was really confused why all my friends wanted to watch me while nature called. I said "this is weird, but whatever." Funniest part was that I didn't question it beyond that, they've conditioned me to understand they're weird.

Anyway, I get to the bathroom (a public bathroom in a park, mind you) and there are about 50 mini paper plates and streamers all over the walls. Each plate had a different drawing on them, some of insects, some of bikers, a Killer Unicorn Fractal, etc... and on the wall written through drawings it said "Happy B-Day Ryan."

What a surprise. It made my day... The food, the plates, the call of nature, everything just made it an awesome birthday.

Then we went to see THE INCREDIBLE HULK and INDIANA JONES at a drive in (apparently there's only 53 in the US). It was perfect.

The end

Ryan C. Kolegas

Stu: The Speed Of Butterflies

When riding up hills, we go slightly slower than the speed of butterflies. They flutter in circles around me, until they get really bored or are hit by large trucks passing by. When riding down the hills we go pretty much the same speed as Andy does when driving on a highway (45 mph). Recently, we rode up to Santiam Pass and down to Sisters, Oregon on 126.

In Sisters, we stopped at a bar named Scoots. The bar was very new and had a big sign by the door that read, “Bikers Welcome,” which we realized was not for people like us, but for motorcyclists (pronounced motor-sickle in some northwest towns). Our spandex shorts and somewhat wussy gait surely gave us away as the other kind of cyclist.

Anyways, even though we weren't their target clientèle, people were still pretty friendly and we met some dudes named Aric (yup, with an A) and Ted. They were red-haired brothers who loved their town, the bar, and drinking in the bar a whole lot. Eric and Ted insisted that we go to the top of these rocks so we could see the most beautiful sunset in the world. They were pretty floppy, so they got their friends to drive Andy, and I to the famed place. When we got in the car, we learned that the driver, a very nice woman, had just rolled her car over the day before. Luckily she survived with only a minor loss, the tip of her middle finger. We got to see pus-ridden pictures of it on her cell phone. It was all oozy, bloody and awesome. They took us to the top of the rocks and we could see mountains all around us, 360 degrees, including the one we had just rode over. I can't describe how panoramically-picture-postcard-esque the view was, so I won't.

After the sun was pretty much done setting, they drove us back to the bar and showed us a game that they play while driving down the big hill. Basically, they put their car in neutral and coast down the hill into the town. That means they hit the first couple blind turns at 50-ish which causes them to take extra wide turns, using both lanes of the road. The driver got some cold feet though (perhaps because of her extremely recent accident) and used some brakes, so we didn't make it. Bummer. When we got back to the bar Aric and Ted proceeded to feed the juke-box money to sing their favorite Sublime and Queen tunes at the top of their lungs until the morning came (I can only assume because we left before the bar closed). In conclusion, we owe an exciting night in Sisters, Oregon to Aric and Ted, two sweet dudes who love where they live and love to show it off with reckless abandon.

Andy: Frustration

We all know the feeling. The kids have finally gone off to bed, the dog's overnight at the vet for some fungal thing, and the Old Man stopped flicking buttons at your window for one reason or another. You have the house to yourself, and there is only one thing on your mind: Bacon. You want to eat bacon at 11:00 PM because damnit, it's your house, and you're hungry for a BLT with no mayo. Good thing you went to the store to pick up a few savory strips this afterno-- Oh wait. You forgot. No bigs, you can just hire the weird kid with the eye patch to carry you to the store, it will only take ten minutes, then you'll be in Bacon Heaven (which is like regular heaven, but it's covered with a thick layer of delicious.) Oh wait. The store closed at 11:09. No bacon. But at least the eye patch kid waited to carry you ho--- Oh wait. He left. Now you have to walk the two blocks. Well, your night isn't totally ruined, they're showing reenactments of the Michael Jackson Trial on E! and it's verdict night! There's still hop-- Oh wait. E! got taken over by angry unionized janitors and they're picketing right in front of the cameras. There is nothing left for you. Just go to bed. You have wake up to work at the factory tomorrow for less than minimum wage.

So, what does that story have to do with Andy's Bicycle riding experience? One thing: Frustration. My spoke broke (which rhymes and leads one to believe that the experience of a dismembered wheel is goofy and fun instead of dumb and boring.) It happened only one time at least, which was nice. Except that after I fixed it, it broke again, so I guess I was lying when I said it broke only once. Oh well. Riding with a broken spoke causes the wheel to get all wobbly pobbly and graze the brakes during each rotation. This constant lack of momentum made the Already-Slow-Andy transform into the Magically Unreasonably-Slow-Andy.

So I got the spoke fixed again, this time professionally (I was taking no chances). but the repetitive grinding against the brakes required me to get new brake pads as well (although the prospect of being unable to stop is intriguing in an addicted-to-risk sort of way.) So, how could I prevent this from becoming a regular weekly ritual? I had too much weight on the back of my bike, and I needed to redistribute. The solution? Front rack and front panniers.

Okay, now, I go to four different bike shops in the area and find one with a front rack, and so I bought it. Little did I know that this particular rack had one feature I didn't see on the box: Sucking. It was complicated to put together and eventually I gave up and went back to one more bike shop looking for an easier solution (like hiring a wizard to turn me into a bird so I could fly into the sun).

MEANWHILE, The source of the excessive rear weight, my beloved Banjo, had a busted string and literally drooped out the back of my bike like a depressed doggy tail, bungeed down so it could not wag. Without the high D, it's as useless as a box of mushrooms in an Andy Factory (I don't care for mushrooms).

I was upset and setting the whole team hours behind schedule with my shennanigans.

How does one recover from such profound frustration? Well, for me, the answer came in the form of the my idiot friends and the Blue Heron, a little bike shop in downtown Eugene. I returned my dumb rack and got a smart one, plus two crappy panniers that will do any trick I ask them to, then a couple of dummies I ride bikes with got me my B-jo string as a nice surprise. Thanks morons. Have fun on the Stupid train to Buttville.

I'm feeling good now, so I don't want your pity. Give that to the poor (instead of food).

PS, I love you family. This blog was for you. I am actually having fun, I promise.

Loves and Kissys.
Andy Junk

Ryan:

Haven't been on here in a while and to be honest, I have no idea what to write... Oregon basically encapsulates four or five other states. From leaving Astoria on the fourth of July we passed through coastal towns, Colorado-esque landscape, Midwest (rolling hills), and Arizona (dry and deserty... although if it were desserty I'd be happy, Stu wouldn't, he's a salty friend who doesn't like sweets).

We biked nearly 800 miles since we left Vancouver and only have about 6000 left. Days feel like weeks and weeks feel like months because the days seem so long. We shoot to get up at 8 every morning, but we take FOREVER to get ready and usually get out late. Then we ride through the heat of the day- Brilliant.

Andy hit some bike problems, broke a couple of spokes, and decided he had too much weight on his back tire, so he got a front rack and some front saddle bags.

This is not an entertaining Blog at all, sorry, I just woke up.

We've met some extraordinary people and have stayed some cool places. We've camped behind a grocery store, in several people's yards, in a city park in Vancouver Canada, on the side of a couple roads, and in several state parks.

Here's a story; we were by Castle Rock Washington and had no place to stay despite the setting sun. We saw a house and decided we'd knock on the door. A sign said "Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again"... we could only assume that the owner of such a hilarious sign was joking, so Stu and I started up the block long driveway. Half way up the drive we stumbled upon a gate that we are a little weary to cross. We see a neighbor outside next door, so Stu yells to him and tells him our situation, and that we have no place to stay. The extremely nice man calmly explains, "I wouldn't keep going up that driveway, he doesn't take too kindly to trespassers. Come on over I'll get ya'll set up."

What a nice man, he saved Stu and I from a possible bullet. Thanks again Pat, Patti and Dixie.

Long post.

Ryan C. Kolegas

Scott: Showers...or lack there of.

It's been six days now. Six days without a shower, and we are in need of them. This wouldn't be all that bad in the “real world.” In the “real world,” when you spend your summer afternoons on the couch watching t.v., you can go months without a shower and years without washing your clothes. I know. I've done it. Here, on the open road, it is a different story. Stuart Seale of the Seale family in Downers Grove, Illinois believes that this is the humans' natural state. We don't need showers. Our four fathers didn't have showers, and neither did the cave people they came from. The rest of us disagree. Matt was actually willing to spend money to take a shower yesterday, and that's where my frustration comes.

We've stayed at quite a few campsites here in Washington, and all of the campsites we stayed at have had shower access. One problem. They want you to pay for hot water. Well I for one, refuse. I can get a cold shower by standing in the rain. Hot water should be included in the price of a campsite, and I would rather smell, and be sticky, and have dirt plastered to my legs than pay one quarter for 1.20 of hot water. What if there's a warm up period? What if 1.20 turns in to 0.20? What if I spend the extra 0.20 adjusting the water to be the perfect temperature? Bam! The water is cold again and I owe another quarter. It's not worth it. Hot water is a right. Not a privilege - and I want to exercise my rights as a human being.

Matt has reached his breaking point, but I believe the rest of us can stay strong. As long as we're brushing our teeth, we'll be okay. In the “real world,” when you spend your summer afternoons on the couch watching t.v., you can go months without brushing your teeth. I know. I've done it. But here on the open road, sometimes you just want to be clean.

Scott: Nature

In the beginning I could describe every little nuance of a place just by having a glimpse of it along our trail. The world was spectacular and I wanted to take it all in. Now, I can think of nature in the same way I think of violence on T.V. Once you've seen a certain amount of it, your mind becomes numb. What was once spectacular is now mundane. What was beautiful is now insignificant-insignificant as our lives here on earth. Everything is so dull now and all I want is a shower. But more than a shower for me, I really want Stu to take a shower. He's so salty. That's his superpower. (saltiness)

Ryan: superpower – Smart. (smartest friend)
Matt : superpower – Easygoing
Andy: superpower – Gassy...Really really gassy.
Scott: superpower – Fast and attractive
Stu: superpower – Noted above

I'm beginning to hate my so-called “friends.” They're so whiny. But like my mom, I just tune them out. At night they drink and I go to bed. Tonight I am going to read. You know what I'm reading? The Princess Bride. You know what whiny Andy is reading? King Lear. He says it's sad. “Boo hoo. I'm Andy and I'm going to cry over this wonderful Shakespearean play.”

What I like better than nature are movies. We saw WALL.E. It was beautiful. More beautiful than any real life event could ever be. It makes me want to be in love. Not human love though. Robot love. I want to hold hands with a robot. You'll understand when you see the movie, and you should definitely see the movie.

But for serious, everything is gravy. Tomorrow we're having biscuits and gravy. They're almost as good as robot love.