When Kurt came up with the grand plan to cycle across America rather than using normal modes of transport, I had two options: travel across country by myself or get on board and take up the challenge. Option one didn't appeal as I find travelling solo boring, but option two would undoubtedly involve some serious physical pain, which I personally don't enjoy. However, I'd much rather travel with Kurt than without him, so with absolutely no idea of what we were letting ourselves in for, I signed up for the challenge. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
In our typical laissez-faire fashion, we of course did absolutely no training or physical preparation whatsoever. It's our preferred approach to the many challenges we've undertaken on this trip, and has been tried and tested. Also, it meant we could indulge in eating all sorts of American junk the couple of weeks prior. Isn't carb loading before major exercise important? So, it was in this fairly positive, if naive and unprepared state that we set off on this epic cross-country bike ride.
We were roughly following iconic Route 66 which starts in Chicago and ends at Santa Monica Pier in Los Angeles, so we were doing it in reverse. We figured we'd have to ride an average of 70 miles a day, allowing for a few rest days, so with that in mind we decided to start the journey in the wee small hours so we could ride across LA without having to deal with the insane traffic. So after only a few hours sleep we were on the bikes at 2:30am to ride the 8 miles from where we were staying in Culver City to Santa Monica Pier. After a couple of photos to mark the occasion, we set off.
Thank god Kurt suggested starting at this ridiculous time, because even without traffic it took us hours to cross this ridiculously massive city. It just goes on forever. Even when we were out of LA city itself, the urban sprawl continued endlessly for miles and miles. In fact, there was no break in strip malls and suburbs for the entire 60 miles we rode that day to the city of Upland. Not a bad first day's effort, and thankfully it was a nice easy introduction with no hills or inclines. We had planned on finding a campground to sleep for the night, but apparently there were none. Well that's inconvenient. Someone had recommended we go to a local bike shop as they might know a bit more. We needed to get my handlebar grip taped down anyway (yes, already), so figured why not. Turned out to be a great idea, as the guys who own and run Rad Stop Cycle are an awesome group of people. After hearing about our cross-country cycle tour they happily showed us around the shop, which included music recording rooms they rent out to local musicians. And when they heard we couldn't find a campground to stay in that night, the owner generously offered his trailer out back for us to get some sleep. It was this very first act of selfless generosity of total strangers that set the tone for our trip. Thanks to these guys we managed to get some sleep before an even earlier, midnight set-off for the ride over the mountains.
What a horrible fucking day. That's all I can say. The nice and easy flat ground was very short lived, that's for sure . Day two saw us setting off in the middle of the night to tackle the Cajon Summit, a mountain pass between the San Bernardino Mountains and the San Gabriel Mountains. Kurt had said we'd have to pass over mountains early on, but that still didn't prepare me for the seemingly never-ending uphill climb, reaching an elevation of almost 1,300m. And most of this was on the shoulder of a busy multi-lane interstate, which was often littered with sharp debris from blown-out truck tyres, glass and all other manner of rubbish.
Miraculously, neither of us got any flat tyres that day (until the very end), and after many hot and sweaty hours including very regular breaks, we finally rolled into Victorville. Kurt had found an online community called Warm Showers (slightly dodgy name, we know) which is basically Couch Surfing but only for cyclists. We had lined up our first hosts in Victorville, so after some more hill climbs in the scorching heat we made it to our home for the night. John McFarland and his wife Tina were the ultimate hosts that night. John asked if we needed anything and immediately drove us around town so we could stock up on necessities, and then they insisted on taking us out for dinner. After a good night's sleep in a comfy bed, they both got up early and cooked us breakfast, sending us on our way with full bellies and a whole lot of advice and information on the route we were taking. If we'd known that it would only take us 3.5 hours to ride to the next city of Barstow, we wouldn't have rushed off so early. We felt bad about leaving in such a hurry as they were great hosts.
One small detail I haven't mentioned - we had chosen to undertake this ride in the middle of the American summer. Across the Californian desert. So, to avoid being fried alive in the heat of the sun, we had to ride during the night for the first week or so. It was usually still well into the 30's when we'd set out at around 10 or 11pm, but at least there was no direct sun. For safety's sake we had relatively effective head torches to light our way, a good rear flashing light and reflective vests (as well as reflective strips on our tyres and panniers). We were told on one occasion by someone in a car that he could see us a mile off. Excellent. Riding at night was occasionally daunting as our head torches didn't have a very big range, meaning pot holes and other obstacles could sometimes sneak up on us. Kurt can also tell you that changing tyres isn't fun at the best of times, even less so in the pitch black with traffic whizzing by. The most surprising thing, however, was the lack of problems with traffic at night. I thought we'd be getting honked and yelled at a fair bit, but that wasn't the case. For the most part it was mainly trucks on the road at that hour, and they were the most courteous drivers by far. They'd give us a wide berth and we figured they were on their radio's notifying other truckers in the area where we were, so by the time they got to us they'd already moved over into the far lane. Even during the day they were good, and they'd honk at us but only to wave and say hi. So we really didn't have to worry about them. The same couldn't be said for the lunatics driving their ridiculous RV's. Usually older people, they'd drive way too fast for the load they were towing, and they'd drive right on the edge of the shoulder which was our only space to ride (and sometimes not a very wide space). And then they'd have the nerve to honk at us! Where the hell do you expect us to go you inconsiderate morons? It completely infuriated us.
After riding through the night we stopped at a gas station at about 6am for some breakfast. Good old Clif bars, an organic energy bar that we never got sick of despite eating several a day for 6 weeks straight. We were on a long stretch of interstate with basically no nearby towns, so we could either try and find somewhere shady to rest for the whole day, or carry on to the next gas station, 50+ miles further on. We asked the woman who worked there what was coming up on the road ahead, but she had no idea. Why? "I work here and live back that way so I don't know what's up ahead". Of course you don't, why would you ever venture further afield that is absolutely necessary? This was a disturbingly common attitude. Anyway, we didn't think a comfortable, shady spot was very likely, so we decided to push on. By about 11am the heat was near unbearable, and the entire interstate was a continuously rolling incline. I had a twinging muscle in my leg and decided I couldn't go anymore, so I asked a tow-truck driver who was stopped to help someone (funnily enough an ex-pat Kiwi) if he could take me the final 20 miles or so to the gas station. Kurt continued riding so I waited for him to show up. That turned out to be quicker than expected, as after 2 consecutive flats and no energy in the fierce heat, he was picked up by good samaritan's and driven the final miles too. We then had to wait out the heat of the day in the air-conditioned gas station cafe. A second sleepless night ahead was too much for me, so I attempted to get a bit of sleep on the floor. Finally, at about 10pm we decided to set off again. We said goodbye to the crazy Japanese kid who'd come racing in a few hours earlier on a bike he'd been given and turned out to be even less prepared than we were. He was still in great spirits though, but I have no idea how when we found out what the ride he'd just done was like. It was easy for us because it was all downhill, but it would have been hours of constant uphill for him. Crazy bastard.
Not long after we set off, we had to eventually pull off the road and set our tent up because of a passing storm. The wind was intense and there was thunder and lightning too. We waited it out for an hour or so, then got going again. After a relatively easy and mostly downhill ride, we rolled into Needles at about 5am, had breakfast and checked into a hotel for some much needed air-con, shower and sleep. The air-con was on over-drive in that city, as Needles is frequently the hottest place in the country during the summer. When we walked out of the hotel room that night it was like walking into a furnace, even at 10pm. Here's a fun fact for you - on August 13, 2012, Needles experienced a thunderstorm that deposited rain at a temperature of 115 °F (46 °C) starting at 3:56 PM, setting a new record for the hottest rain in world history. Consider yourselves informed.
That night we were riding from Needles across the border into Arizona and the city of Kingman, where we had another Warm Showers lined up. We were riding along the interstate, less than 10 miles from the border when we were pulled over by a cop. His opening line was, "What the HELL do you think you're doing?". Our accents meant he was a little more understanding, but he still wasn't happy. Cycling on interstates in California is illegal, but we'd gotten away with it for the whole week and told him so. We were so close to the border line we asked him to let us go on, but of course being a lawman he had to insist we turn around and find another way. How is going the wrong way down an interstate safer than continuing a few miles further on? We had to follow orders and get off the interstate and try and find an alternative route that didn't involve backtracking too many miles, so we got out the phone to consult Google maps which tracked us on GPS. We thought we could see a side road so set off to find it. It turned out to be a dirt road that led god-knows-where, so after an hour or so of walking our bikes we had to turn around. We decided we'd just write off the night as a failure and head back to the hotel and try again the next night. But of course when we got back to the hotel it was now fully booked. So, at 1 or 2am we had to find another hotel. We were riding along when we were pulled over again. Seriously? It was the same cop and he wondered what the hell we were doing again. Apparently he'd hinted that when he drove off we could do whatever we wanted. Maybe give a bigger hint next time mate! By this time we were royally pissed off so Kurt asked if he could drive us back down the interstate to the border so we could gain some time back. He readily obliged so we put our bikes in the boot but they were sticking out a mile. No worries, "I'm the law, I can do whatever I want". Well played, sir, well played. We got talking to the cop, who was a 24 year old Mormon and loved his job because he got to "chase people and beat them up". He also had three guns while on duty - a rifle, a machine-gun and a handgun - because they ride alone. Luckily we didn't make his shit list that night. In the end he drove us about 15 miles over the state line and dropped us off at a gas station. We could then continue on to Kingman, where we arrived a few hours late to our hosts for the rest of the day and night, Dave and his girlfriend Sharon. They were great people and great hosts, and we got along really well.
We camped the next couple of nights, and as we were getting on the bikes to leave Peach Springs there was a father with his young son, about 8 years old. The Dad asked us how far we were riding, and when we told him he turned to his son and asked, "Do you think you could do that one day?". Before his kid could even open his mouth, the Dad answered for him with "Probably not". What awesome parenting, way to build your son up and make him think he can do whatever the hell he wants to in life. We couldn't believe it, and it was one of those times when we wish we'd said something. Prick.
After a fair stretch of hill climbing over the Arizona Divide (2,235m altitude), we arrived in Flagstaff. On the way there we passed probably one of the most interesting people we've come across in a long time. We were going under an overpass, slowly because it was still uphill, when we spotted a guy sitting in the shade. He had a shopping trolley packed with all kinds of shit so we thought he was some homeless dude. Turns out he was a young guy due to start Uni after summer, so he decided to walk there. From Georgia to LA, which is literally coast to coast clear across the country. And he thought what we were doing was epic. He was so excited to meet us and hear about our trip, and was stoked we were so interested in what he was doing that he proudly showed us the trolley that he'd tricked out himself, adding brakes and attaching an umbrella to the side of it. What a bloody legend.
Not long after that we had to shelter under an overpass for a couple of hours waiting for a storm to pass. The rain got so torrential that cars were pulling over and stopping until it eased off, so there was no way were were venturing out in it. At least it wasn't cold.
When we got to Flagstaff we were staying with Warm Showers hosts Derek and Lisa, Lissa and their other housemate who were all into cycling, and we were taking a well-earned rest day after nine straight days of riding. We didn't just laze around though - we hired a car and drove out to the Grand Canyon. It's pretty impressive, but as Kurt said, it's basically just a big hole in the ground. Worth the trip though. By this point I had numbness in the last two fingers on each hand which was worrying me a bit, so the guys kindly offered to flip my handlebars so they were a bit higher and would hopefully relieve a bit of pressure. Again, one of the acts of generosity from this community of people. After a day off the bikes we were ready to hit the road again.
The next two nights were interesting. Riding along the interstate, we were caught in a storm. It was so intense we had to pull off and huddle next to some bushes to try and shelter a bit. It was rather futile and actually bloody freezing, so we carried on a bit to where we could see an exit. Unfortunately it was an exit to nothing, so we pulled under the overpass where it was at least dry. It was too late to carry on to the next town, so we had to spend the night under the bridge. But we weren't alone - an old-time drifter was already snuggled up in his sleeping bag on the concrete barrier across from us. Kurt chatted to him a bit and we gave him some food just to butter him up enough not to stab us in our sleep. Just kidding Mum, we were fine. He was a harmless old dude and it was an uneventful night. All the same, I didn't really want to have to repeat that if we could avoid it.
When we arrived in Sanders, the next town along the interstate, we asked a local cop/security guard if she knew anywhere we could camp. We were on Indian reservation land so we knew we couldn't just pitch a tent anywhere. She suggested we ask at the Puerco Valley Fire Station down the road, and they were happy for us to put our tent up on their back lawn and use their shower and kitchen. We spent a while talking to Mo, Ryan and Ursula who were on duty, and just as we'd crawled into our tent for the night they asked if we wanted to sleep in the spare beds in their crib room. Hell yeah, we'll take a bed over an inflatable mattress any day. Then, after receiving a call-out, they asked if we wanted to go on a ride-along. Again, hell yeah. So after signing waiver forms and donning their uniform pants, we were racing along in the back of the ambulance (they're combined fire/EMT). They'd been called out because someone was threatening an elder with a gun and were needed just in case the shit hit the fan. Thankfully it didn't, because we didn't really want to see someone get shot. There was another call out later on as well, but we declined that ride-along in order to get some sleep. The next morning before we left we got photos with them, and because Kurt's brother, Ryan, is a fireman, Kurt swapped station shirts with them. Well, we didn't actually have it with us, so we later sent it to them, as they generously gave us 3 of theirs. Yet another group of awesome people we were lucky enough to meet. Something that definitely wouldn't have happened if we'd taken the easy way and crossed country by more traditional means.
The following day turned out to be our biggest of the entire trip, albeit unintentionally. We'd crossed the border into New Mexico and ridden our 70 miles to the town of Thoreau, but they didn't have a campground either. Because we were still on reservation land we decided to ask the local fire station again if we could camp out back. The station was closed, however, so after asking a local cop who thought it would be fine to camp there, we waited an hour or two for the next shift to show up. Turned out that they weren't as accommodating as the Puerco Valley team in Sanders (although they did give us some fruit cups and drink to take with us), so we had no choice but to continue on to Grants, which was about 30 miles away. But by this time it was already about 6 or 7pm and the sun was going down, so we ended up riding hard to try and make it in good time. Of course a storm was also chasing us, so with some strong winds and threatening rain we had to ride like mother-fuckers to out-run it. We finally made it and checked into a hotel at about 10pm. I was dead on my feet so Kurt gallantly went out to get dinner. It was a massive day - about 9 hours of riding in which we made our first, and only century of the trip, clocking up 110 miles. What an effort.
We thought we'd take it easy the next day, but we ended up making the 80 miles to Albuquerque, which has a bitch of a hill to conquer first. There's a pretty good view when you get to the top though, and then of course we got to ride downhill, coasting into town. It was Kurt's birthday the day we arrived, so he got some celebratory pie for dessert that night. We spent 3 nights in Albuquerque resting, eating and catching up with Justin, an Airforce navigator on a C130, who we'd met on the trek in Patagonia. We finally got to try the famous green chilli cheeseburger he couldn't stop fantasising about when we were eating nothing but packaged camping food for 5 days on the trek. It was pretty good too. We also put our bikes in for a free service at REI, yet another great perk they offer. We found out that Breaking Bad was filmed in Albuquerque so Justin drove us by the dodgy motel that's featured in a couple of episodes. Apparently you can also buy official blue meth candy in town. Sweet.
OK, time for a slight rant. So many times we'd ask people how far it was to the next place and they'd say something like, "Oh not far, about 15 minutes". When we explained we were on bicycles they'd up it to about 45 minutes. Fat chance you idiot. And when we'd ask what the road was like, they'd invariably answer, "Oh, it's flat". Are you fucking kidding me? How can a road that constantly rolls up and down be flat? I'd get so angry we just stopped asking people. They had absolutely no idea and I constantly wanted to punch them in the face.
After leaving Albuquerque we spent three nights camping at rest stops, the third one being near the border of Texas. Crossing over into the Lone Star State, we had a fairly uneventful ride (punctured of course by numerous flats, which were by now almost a daily occurrence) to Amarillo. We did happen to ride past the Cadillac Ranch though, which is the famous public art installation where passers-by stop to add their graffiti to the mix on the half buried cars. We'd contacted Alex on Warm Showers to ask if we could stay with him and his girlfriend Ellie for a couple of nights, and despite the fact they were away until the following day, he told us to pitch our tent in their backyard for the night and they'd let us in the next morning. Which they did. They lived in a converted dentist's office, so we slept inside the next night out of the heat. We still made our daily trip to Subway for lunch on our day off (like Clif bars, we never got sick of it), and it was there that the local teenager serving us was impressed by our epic ride. So much so, he asked if we were sponsored to do it. We replied no (although we should have asked Subway or Clif Bars...). He then asked if we were doing it for charity. Nope, we're just doing it for our selfish selves. He had yet another stellar question to come when he found out where we were from: "So what currency do you guys use?" "Dollars" "American dollars?" "No, Australian and New Zealand dollars" "Oh, you have dollars too?". Yes, you special, special person, other countries have dollars as well. Then across the road at Dairy Queen we saw a hard-working employee taking a well-earned break and reading the Bible. I guess we shouldn't have been too surprised, we were in the Bible belt after all.
After staying in a couple of small Texas towns, we had our next Warm Showers hosts lined up in Weatherford. However, we were on the way there when we got a phone call from our host, Warren, saying that he was really sorry but they could no longer have us stay at their house due to unforseen circumstances. We totally understood and were happy to find a camping ground or something, but then Warren floored us by saying they'd booked and paid for a hotel room for us instead, and that the hotel was expecting us (it was a nice hotel too). Again, a demonstration of such unparalleled generosity from total strangers. But their kindness didn't stop there - they also picked us up and drove us around town showing us the sights, and took us out for dinner. Unexpectedly, another Warm Showers host joined us too. We'd actually contacted Joe first, but as he was driving back from California and didn't know if he'd be back in time, he suggested we contact Warren and Jan. So it was actually Joe who ended up buying us dinner. Such a great group of genuinely good people. We were riding past Joe's house the next day, so we stopped in for a chat and to thank him again.
From Weatherford we crossed into Oklahoma, and rode straight to pick up our rental car to drive down to Austin, Texas. We did it this way because it was closer to drive from Oklahoma City than from Amarillo, Texas. So after a day's riding Kurt drove late into the night, stopping so we could sleep in the car at a rest stop just outside of Austin. The next morning we set off early to find our way to Franklin's BBQ, one of the most famous BBQ joints in the country. We'd seen it on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, but I'm sure it's been featured in many other food shows. It's that good. It was a Saturday morning and we arrived just after 8am to find ourselves joining the queue with about 100 people already ahead of us. It's a weekly tradition where all the locals line up early, armed with chairs and chilly bins full of booze to wait the five or so hours until you eventually make it inside. The place opens at 11am, but we didn't make it inside until about 1pm. We were standing next in line to actually enter the door when a staff member put a sign up on the door saying 'Sold Out'. Our faces obviously showed our utter dismay, so she quickly reassured us it was just for those people who were only now joining the queue. Thank god for that. There was no way anyone was depriving me of the tasty BBQ goodness I had waited hours for, and could now smell. When we eventually got to the counter we were surprised to find the actual owner, Aaron Franklin, behind the counter ready to serve us. It was cool to see that despite being such a huge name now, he still loved it enough to show up and serve customers himself. He helped us choose what to have, and then we carried our gloriously laden tray of food to the table. We had a tantalising array of brisket, pulled pork, pork ribs and pork sausage, along with sides of potato salad and coleslaw. And a few slices of bread they dish out for each serving. Where to begin. It was quite easily the best BBQ meat either of us have ever tasted in our lives. So melt-in-your-mouth tender and full of flavour, every mouthful was heavenly. Even eating it cold the next day, it was like candy. There are many places that have so much hype surrounding them that you build up your expectations, only to be so bitterly disappointed by the reality you wish you'd never bothered. Franklin's BBQ is not one of those places. If you're ever in Austin, you HAVE to go. In fact, if you're ever in Texas, or any of the surrounding States, you have to go. We made a nearly 800 mile roundtrip just to experience it, and we'd do it again. It's totally worth it.
While in Texas we found our favourite fast food joint - Whataburger. Easily the best burgers of them all, we were later gutted to discover that they're only in a couple of states other than Texas, but none that we'd be going to. If only we'd known that we would've stuffed our faces with it when we got the chance.
We returned to Oklahoma City and stayed with Moni from Warm Showers, a German ex-pat and a total ball of energy. She made us a tasty home-cooked meal and drove us around town, stopping so we could walk around the Oklahoma City bombing memorial which was a depressing, yet somehow peaceful place. When we mentioned we'd be riding through Tulsa in a couple of days, she immediately contacted her friend there, asking if he'd be happy to host us. He wasn't part of the Warm Showers community, but because Moni vouched for us he was happy to have us stay. The day we rode into Tulsa it had been threatening rain for a while, but we thought we'd make it. No such luck. We were only a couple of miles away when it started pissing down, and didn't stop. We were already drenched so we just carried on in the rain, arriving at Sean and Sherri's looking like drowned rats, and probably not smelling much better either. They knew just what we needed, so had towels ready for us to shower, and then showed us the washing machine so we could wash and dry our clothes. Sean, who had been in the restaurant business for years, cooked us an amazing meal that we gratefully wolfed down. After dinner Kurt and I had a go on their recumbent bikes, which take a bit of getting used to. I played it safe and rode the trike version, so I had no balancing issues, but Kurt tried the upright version which is much harder than it looks. We had a quick ride around the block to get some ice-cream and Kurt was just getting the hang of it. They're crazy looking things when you're on one, but a recumbent would be a million times more comfortable than a normal bike. Anything to avoid a constantly sore ass...
The next day of riding was a frustrating one, filled with too many stops to count pumping air into rapidly deflating tyres, and changing tubes. Then a couple of miles from Vinita, where we were stopping for the night, Kurt had a blowout. So I rode the rest of the way into town to see if I could find a bike shop and get a replacement tyre to take back to Kurt. But of course the only one in town was closed, meaning Kurt had to walk his bike the rest of the way. Walmart had nothing for us either, so in the end Kurt had to MacGyver a short-term solution with duct tape and Subway cookie packets. Brilliant. Walmart let us down twice actually - we'd been told by a Warm Showers host that cyclists had camped outside a Walmart, so we asked if we could pitch our tent on the grass behind the building. They said they couldn't let us due to health and safety reasons (bullshit), so we ended up staying across the road outside a local Legion club (like an RSL/RSA). Screw you Walmart. The next morning, with Kurt's genius patching job done, we swapped tyres around so the damaged one was on my front where it would take the least amount of weight, and believe it or not, it lasted the entire 65-70 miles to Joplin that day, which took us through three states. From Oklahoma we crossed very briefly into the southeast corner of Kansas for a few miles, before crossing the border into Missouri. We'd let our Warm Showers host in Joplin know of our situation, and she generously offered to come pick us up if the tyre didn't hold out. Thankfully we didn't need to take her up on her offer, but we were glad to make it to her place where the generosity continued - she actually gave up her room and slept on the couch that night (despite our insistent protests) so we could have a bed. Amazing.
A few days later we had another Warm Showers stay lined up in a place called Rolla. Our hosts had a nice house and we had a big room with ensuite all to ourselves for the night. They also had a massive dog, we think it was a labradoodle. Whatever it was, it was definitely part poodle and huge. After taking us out for dinner we went back to the house to relax before bed. Unfortunately this was interrupted by a visit from their friend. Sue and Mark were religious people, but not at all in your face about it, much to our relief. The same couldn't be said for Mark's mate. He came over to play the latest CD of their Christian a cappella group (Mark was no longer a member), which is pretty much our worst nightmare - just add in a bit of country and we'd well and truly be in hell. We'd hoped to escape to our room before he arrived but alas, we weren't quick enough. We were then subjected to almost an hour of torture, while Mark listened to the CD and this douchebag rapturously raved on about how fantastic the music was. He was so into it, it was disturbing. I've never wanted to unhear music more in my life.
Arriving in St. Louis a couple of days later, we'd organised to stay with Tom, who we'd met when we were in Cuba. He lived in a big old 3 storey house, owned by his flatmates Stephanie and Mike who were happy for us to stay for a night or two. We already knew Tom was a quietly hilarious guy and we got along great with him, and thankfully Steph and Mike were just as cool. We ended up staying with them for 4 nights, so they obviously thought we were alright too. Even more so when Kurt said he wanted to try out their electric tools to clear out their backyard. Apart from going up to the top of the Gateway Arch, we mainly relaxed and ate some good food, including gooey butter cake, a tasty local treat. We also went to a late night preview screening of The World's End with Steph and Mike, where we only had to pay about $12 each for plush comfort and service. Each chair was a massive lay-z-boy with a table between them and an i-pad to order food on. We'd all snuck in our own lollies, so we just ordered a large drink which of course came with free refills. Anytime we wanted it topped up we'd just have to push a button and the attendant would come to us. Something like that would cost about $50 or more back home. Good old America. After 4 days of awesome hospitality with great people, we thought we'd better get on the move again.
Leaving St. Louis we crossed the border into Illinois, our 8th and final state (including Kansas). Because we didn't want to arrive in Chicago until the end of August, we were able to take the final week a bit easier. And just to top it off, Illinois is actually miraculously flat. With some great bike paths. What a perfect way to end the trip. We had three more Warm Showers stays in the final days, the first of which we actually felt slightly uncomfortable for the first time. The husband was the registered host online and the one interested in cycling, but his wife was the only one home when we arrived. She gave the distinct impression she didn't really enjoy hosting people, and it was a very awkward couple of hours trying to have stilted conversation with her. At dinner that night (which they kindly paid for) she also told us she was concerned that we were travelling for too long and we wouldn't remember things. Thanks for your unwanted, and ignorant opinion lady. I don't think she'd even left the state let alone travelled outside of the country.
The second host we had was well-meaning and very hospitable, but we couldn't get past one fact - he had shit breath. And not just bad breath, but like he'd literally been eating faeces. We had to restrain ourselves from recoiling in disgust every time he'd open his mouth. He did cook us a nice meal, but being an ex-chef he was a bit too full of himself and wanked about with the presentation. We don't give a shit what it looks like on the plate, as long as it tastes good and fills us up. He also had a story about some spirit that visited him and told him they were married long ago and she died waiting for him and blah blah blah, he's now got a girlfriend who is this woman reincarnated or some such bullshit. Like I said, he had good intentions and fed us well, but sometimes we just had to smile and nod to disguise what we were really thinking.
Our final hosts were the last night before reaching the finish line in Chicago. They said they'd be home at about 5 or 6pm so they'd leave the back door unlocked for us to let ourselves in and make ourselves at home. And just to make sure we knew we'd found the right house, they left a note on the door saying 'Keryn, this is the right house. Welcome'. How fucking awesome is that? Once again, the total trust and kindness of these people blew us away. Frank and Sue fed us well and tempted us with a nice cold beer, but we'd made it this far without a drink so we could last one more day.
During the whole ride there was a pretty equal split between us camping, staying in hotels and with Warm Showers hosts. The Warm Showers community was our saving grace on this trip. The members are generally all cyclists themselves, whether currently or in the past, and it is the simple fact that we were on bicycles ourselves that meant they opened their homes to us with no questions asked. The incredible generosity and kindness of the people we stayed with blew us away, especially in this day and age when people are so wary of strangers. We often had different views or opinions than our hosts, and we didn't even always particularly like them, but it gave us a totally different experience and was often something to look forward to after a hard day's ride. We hope to be able to give back by hosting people ourselves eventually, when we're back in Australia.
The final day dawned and we only had a nice, easy 30 miles til the finish line in downtown Chicago. It ended up pissing down for most of that ride, but we didn't really care as the end was nigh. Seeing the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower rising up in the distance was a sweet, sweet sight (for me more so than Kurt). We stopped off a few blocks short of the finish line and bought a celebratory bottle of bubbles to crack later, then it was over. Derek was waiting there for us with his camera, ready to capture the glorious moment for us. It was kind of a weird feeling seeing the Route 66 sign which marked the end for us, but we'd done it. Halle-fucking-lujah. 2,404 miles (3,868 km) in 36 days, plus 10 rest days. We've done some amazing things on the this trip, but none as difficult or rewarding as this, and we're pretty damn proud of ourselves for doing it.
In our typical laissez-faire fashion, we of course did absolutely no training or physical preparation whatsoever. It's our preferred approach to the many challenges we've undertaken on this trip, and has been tried and tested. Also, it meant we could indulge in eating all sorts of American junk the couple of weeks prior. Isn't carb loading before major exercise important? So, it was in this fairly positive, if naive and unprepared state that we set off on this epic cross-country bike ride.
We were roughly following iconic Route 66 which starts in Chicago and ends at Santa Monica Pier in Los Angeles, so we were doing it in reverse. We figured we'd have to ride an average of 70 miles a day, allowing for a few rest days, so with that in mind we decided to start the journey in the wee small hours so we could ride across LA without having to deal with the insane traffic. So after only a few hours sleep we were on the bikes at 2:30am to ride the 8 miles from where we were staying in Culver City to Santa Monica Pier. After a couple of photos to mark the occasion, we set off.
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What a horrible fucking day. That's all I can say. The nice and easy flat ground was very short lived, that's for sure . Day two saw us setting off in the middle of the night to tackle the Cajon Summit, a mountain pass between the San Bernardino Mountains and the San Gabriel Mountains. Kurt had said we'd have to pass over mountains early on, but that still didn't prepare me for the seemingly never-ending uphill climb, reaching an elevation of almost 1,300m. And most of this was on the shoulder of a busy multi-lane interstate, which was often littered with sharp debris from blown-out truck tyres, glass and all other manner of rubbish.
Miraculously, neither of us got any flat tyres that day (until the very end), and after many hot and sweaty hours including very regular breaks, we finally rolled into Victorville. Kurt had found an online community called Warm Showers (slightly dodgy name, we know) which is basically Couch Surfing but only for cyclists. We had lined up our first hosts in Victorville, so after some more hill climbs in the scorching heat we made it to our home for the night. John McFarland and his wife Tina were the ultimate hosts that night. John asked if we needed anything and immediately drove us around town so we could stock up on necessities, and then they insisted on taking us out for dinner. After a good night's sleep in a comfy bed, they both got up early and cooked us breakfast, sending us on our way with full bellies and a whole lot of advice and information on the route we were taking. If we'd known that it would only take us 3.5 hours to ride to the next city of Barstow, we wouldn't have rushed off so early. We felt bad about leaving in such a hurry as they were great hosts.
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| With our amazing Victorville hosts, John and Tina |
One small detail I haven't mentioned - we had chosen to undertake this ride in the middle of the American summer. Across the Californian desert. So, to avoid being fried alive in the heat of the sun, we had to ride during the night for the first week or so. It was usually still well into the 30's when we'd set out at around 10 or 11pm, but at least there was no direct sun. For safety's sake we had relatively effective head torches to light our way, a good rear flashing light and reflective vests (as well as reflective strips on our tyres and panniers). We were told on one occasion by someone in a car that he could see us a mile off. Excellent. Riding at night was occasionally daunting as our head torches didn't have a very big range, meaning pot holes and other obstacles could sometimes sneak up on us. Kurt can also tell you that changing tyres isn't fun at the best of times, even less so in the pitch black with traffic whizzing by. The most surprising thing, however, was the lack of problems with traffic at night. I thought we'd be getting honked and yelled at a fair bit, but that wasn't the case. For the most part it was mainly trucks on the road at that hour, and they were the most courteous drivers by far. They'd give us a wide berth and we figured they were on their radio's notifying other truckers in the area where we were, so by the time they got to us they'd already moved over into the far lane. Even during the day they were good, and they'd honk at us but only to wave and say hi. So we really didn't have to worry about them. The same couldn't be said for the lunatics driving their ridiculous RV's. Usually older people, they'd drive way too fast for the load they were towing, and they'd drive right on the edge of the shoulder which was our only space to ride (and sometimes not a very wide space). And then they'd have the nerve to honk at us! Where the hell do you expect us to go you inconsiderate morons? It completely infuriated us.
After riding through the night we stopped at a gas station at about 6am for some breakfast. Good old Clif bars, an organic energy bar that we never got sick of despite eating several a day for 6 weeks straight. We were on a long stretch of interstate with basically no nearby towns, so we could either try and find somewhere shady to rest for the whole day, or carry on to the next gas station, 50+ miles further on. We asked the woman who worked there what was coming up on the road ahead, but she had no idea. Why? "I work here and live back that way so I don't know what's up ahead". Of course you don't, why would you ever venture further afield that is absolutely necessary? This was a disturbingly common attitude. Anyway, we didn't think a comfortable, shady spot was very likely, so we decided to push on. By about 11am the heat was near unbearable, and the entire interstate was a continuously rolling incline. I had a twinging muscle in my leg and decided I couldn't go anymore, so I asked a tow-truck driver who was stopped to help someone (funnily enough an ex-pat Kiwi) if he could take me the final 20 miles or so to the gas station. Kurt continued riding so I waited for him to show up. That turned out to be quicker than expected, as after 2 consecutive flats and no energy in the fierce heat, he was picked up by good samaritan's and driven the final miles too. We then had to wait out the heat of the day in the air-conditioned gas station cafe. A second sleepless night ahead was too much for me, so I attempted to get a bit of sleep on the floor. Finally, at about 10pm we decided to set off again. We said goodbye to the crazy Japanese kid who'd come racing in a few hours earlier on a bike he'd been given and turned out to be even less prepared than we were. He was still in great spirits though, but I have no idea how when we found out what the ride he'd just done was like. It was easy for us because it was all downhill, but it would have been hours of constant uphill for him. Crazy bastard.
Not long after we set off, we had to eventually pull off the road and set our tent up because of a passing storm. The wind was intense and there was thunder and lightning too. We waited it out for an hour or so, then got going again. After a relatively easy and mostly downhill ride, we rolled into Needles at about 5am, had breakfast and checked into a hotel for some much needed air-con, shower and sleep. The air-con was on over-drive in that city, as Needles is frequently the hottest place in the country during the summer. When we walked out of the hotel room that night it was like walking into a furnace, even at 10pm. Here's a fun fact for you - on August 13, 2012, Needles experienced a thunderstorm that deposited rain at a temperature of 115 °F (46 °C) starting at 3:56 PM, setting a new record for the hottest rain in world history. Consider yourselves informed.
That night we were riding from Needles across the border into Arizona and the city of Kingman, where we had another Warm Showers lined up. We were riding along the interstate, less than 10 miles from the border when we were pulled over by a cop. His opening line was, "What the HELL do you think you're doing?". Our accents meant he was a little more understanding, but he still wasn't happy. Cycling on interstates in California is illegal, but we'd gotten away with it for the whole week and told him so. We were so close to the border line we asked him to let us go on, but of course being a lawman he had to insist we turn around and find another way. How is going the wrong way down an interstate safer than continuing a few miles further on? We had to follow orders and get off the interstate and try and find an alternative route that didn't involve backtracking too many miles, so we got out the phone to consult Google maps which tracked us on GPS. We thought we could see a side road so set off to find it. It turned out to be a dirt road that led god-knows-where, so after an hour or so of walking our bikes we had to turn around. We decided we'd just write off the night as a failure and head back to the hotel and try again the next night. But of course when we got back to the hotel it was now fully booked. So, at 1 or 2am we had to find another hotel. We were riding along when we were pulled over again. Seriously? It was the same cop and he wondered what the hell we were doing again. Apparently he'd hinted that when he drove off we could do whatever we wanted. Maybe give a bigger hint next time mate! By this time we were royally pissed off so Kurt asked if he could drive us back down the interstate to the border so we could gain some time back. He readily obliged so we put our bikes in the boot but they were sticking out a mile. No worries, "I'm the law, I can do whatever I want". Well played, sir, well played. We got talking to the cop, who was a 24 year old Mormon and loved his job because he got to "chase people and beat them up". He also had three guns while on duty - a rifle, a machine-gun and a handgun - because they ride alone. Luckily we didn't make his shit list that night. In the end he drove us about 15 miles over the state line and dropped us off at a gas station. We could then continue on to Kingman, where we arrived a few hours late to our hosts for the rest of the day and night, Dave and his girlfriend Sharon. They were great people and great hosts, and we got along really well.
We camped the next couple of nights, and as we were getting on the bikes to leave Peach Springs there was a father with his young son, about 8 years old. The Dad asked us how far we were riding, and when we told him he turned to his son and asked, "Do you think you could do that one day?". Before his kid could even open his mouth, the Dad answered for him with "Probably not". What awesome parenting, way to build your son up and make him think he can do whatever the hell he wants to in life. We couldn't believe it, and it was one of those times when we wish we'd said something. Prick.
After a fair stretch of hill climbing over the Arizona Divide (2,235m altitude), we arrived in Flagstaff. On the way there we passed probably one of the most interesting people we've come across in a long time. We were going under an overpass, slowly because it was still uphill, when we spotted a guy sitting in the shade. He had a shopping trolley packed with all kinds of shit so we thought he was some homeless dude. Turns out he was a young guy due to start Uni after summer, so he decided to walk there. From Georgia to LA, which is literally coast to coast clear across the country. And he thought what we were doing was epic. He was so excited to meet us and hear about our trip, and was stoked we were so interested in what he was doing that he proudly showed us the trolley that he'd tricked out himself, adding brakes and attaching an umbrella to the side of it. What a bloody legend.
Not long after that we had to shelter under an overpass for a couple of hours waiting for a storm to pass. The rain got so torrential that cars were pulling over and stopping until it eased off, so there was no way were were venturing out in it. At least it wasn't cold.
When we got to Flagstaff we were staying with Warm Showers hosts Derek and Lisa, Lissa and their other housemate who were all into cycling, and we were taking a well-earned rest day after nine straight days of riding. We didn't just laze around though - we hired a car and drove out to the Grand Canyon. It's pretty impressive, but as Kurt said, it's basically just a big hole in the ground. Worth the trip though. By this point I had numbness in the last two fingers on each hand which was worrying me a bit, so the guys kindly offered to flip my handlebars so they were a bit higher and would hopefully relieve a bit of pressure. Again, one of the acts of generosity from this community of people. After a day off the bikes we were ready to hit the road again.
The next two nights were interesting. Riding along the interstate, we were caught in a storm. It was so intense we had to pull off and huddle next to some bushes to try and shelter a bit. It was rather futile and actually bloody freezing, so we carried on a bit to where we could see an exit. Unfortunately it was an exit to nothing, so we pulled under the overpass where it was at least dry. It was too late to carry on to the next town, so we had to spend the night under the bridge. But we weren't alone - an old-time drifter was already snuggled up in his sleeping bag on the concrete barrier across from us. Kurt chatted to him a bit and we gave him some food just to butter him up enough not to stab us in our sleep. Just kidding Mum, we were fine. He was a harmless old dude and it was an uneventful night. All the same, I didn't really want to have to repeat that if we could avoid it.
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| Sleeping in style for the night |
When we arrived in Sanders, the next town along the interstate, we asked a local cop/security guard if she knew anywhere we could camp. We were on Indian reservation land so we knew we couldn't just pitch a tent anywhere. She suggested we ask at the Puerco Valley Fire Station down the road, and they were happy for us to put our tent up on their back lawn and use their shower and kitchen. We spent a while talking to Mo, Ryan and Ursula who were on duty, and just as we'd crawled into our tent for the night they asked if we wanted to sleep in the spare beds in their crib room. Hell yeah, we'll take a bed over an inflatable mattress any day. Then, after receiving a call-out, they asked if we wanted to go on a ride-along. Again, hell yeah. So after signing waiver forms and donning their uniform pants, we were racing along in the back of the ambulance (they're combined fire/EMT). They'd been called out because someone was threatening an elder with a gun and were needed just in case the shit hit the fan. Thankfully it didn't, because we didn't really want to see someone get shot. There was another call out later on as well, but we declined that ride-along in order to get some sleep. The next morning before we left we got photos with them, and because Kurt's brother, Ryan, is a fireman, Kurt swapped station shirts with them. Well, we didn't actually have it with us, so we later sent it to them, as they generously gave us 3 of theirs. Yet another group of awesome people we were lucky enough to meet. Something that definitely wouldn't have happened if we'd taken the easy way and crossed country by more traditional means.
The following day turned out to be our biggest of the entire trip, albeit unintentionally. We'd crossed the border into New Mexico and ridden our 70 miles to the town of Thoreau, but they didn't have a campground either. Because we were still on reservation land we decided to ask the local fire station again if we could camp out back. The station was closed, however, so after asking a local cop who thought it would be fine to camp there, we waited an hour or two for the next shift to show up. Turned out that they weren't as accommodating as the Puerco Valley team in Sanders (although they did give us some fruit cups and drink to take with us), so we had no choice but to continue on to Grants, which was about 30 miles away. But by this time it was already about 6 or 7pm and the sun was going down, so we ended up riding hard to try and make it in good time. Of course a storm was also chasing us, so with some strong winds and threatening rain we had to ride like mother-fuckers to out-run it. We finally made it and checked into a hotel at about 10pm. I was dead on my feet so Kurt gallantly went out to get dinner. It was a massive day - about 9 hours of riding in which we made our first, and only century of the trip, clocking up 110 miles. What an effort.
We thought we'd take it easy the next day, but we ended up making the 80 miles to Albuquerque, which has a bitch of a hill to conquer first. There's a pretty good view when you get to the top though, and then of course we got to ride downhill, coasting into town. It was Kurt's birthday the day we arrived, so he got some celebratory pie for dessert that night. We spent 3 nights in Albuquerque resting, eating and catching up with Justin, an Airforce navigator on a C130, who we'd met on the trek in Patagonia. We finally got to try the famous green chilli cheeseburger he couldn't stop fantasising about when we were eating nothing but packaged camping food for 5 days on the trek. It was pretty good too. We also put our bikes in for a free service at REI, yet another great perk they offer. We found out that Breaking Bad was filmed in Albuquerque so Justin drove us by the dodgy motel that's featured in a couple of episodes. Apparently you can also buy official blue meth candy in town. Sweet.
OK, time for a slight rant. So many times we'd ask people how far it was to the next place and they'd say something like, "Oh not far, about 15 minutes". When we explained we were on bicycles they'd up it to about 45 minutes. Fat chance you idiot. And when we'd ask what the road was like, they'd invariably answer, "Oh, it's flat". Are you fucking kidding me? How can a road that constantly rolls up and down be flat? I'd get so angry we just stopped asking people. They had absolutely no idea and I constantly wanted to punch them in the face.
After leaving Albuquerque we spent three nights camping at rest stops, the third one being near the border of Texas. Crossing over into the Lone Star State, we had a fairly uneventful ride (punctured of course by numerous flats, which were by now almost a daily occurrence) to Amarillo. We did happen to ride past the Cadillac Ranch though, which is the famous public art installation where passers-by stop to add their graffiti to the mix on the half buried cars. We'd contacted Alex on Warm Showers to ask if we could stay with him and his girlfriend Ellie for a couple of nights, and despite the fact they were away until the following day, he told us to pitch our tent in their backyard for the night and they'd let us in the next morning. Which they did. They lived in a converted dentist's office, so we slept inside the next night out of the heat. We still made our daily trip to Subway for lunch on our day off (like Clif bars, we never got sick of it), and it was there that the local teenager serving us was impressed by our epic ride. So much so, he asked if we were sponsored to do it. We replied no (although we should have asked Subway or Clif Bars...). He then asked if we were doing it for charity. Nope, we're just doing it for our selfish selves. He had yet another stellar question to come when he found out where we were from: "So what currency do you guys use?" "Dollars" "American dollars?" "No, Australian and New Zealand dollars" "Oh, you have dollars too?". Yes, you special, special person, other countries have dollars as well. Then across the road at Dairy Queen we saw a hard-working employee taking a well-earned break and reading the Bible. I guess we shouldn't have been too surprised, we were in the Bible belt after all.
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| Dinner time |
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| Cadillac Ranch |
After staying in a couple of small Texas towns, we had our next Warm Showers hosts lined up in Weatherford. However, we were on the way there when we got a phone call from our host, Warren, saying that he was really sorry but they could no longer have us stay at their house due to unforseen circumstances. We totally understood and were happy to find a camping ground or something, but then Warren floored us by saying they'd booked and paid for a hotel room for us instead, and that the hotel was expecting us (it was a nice hotel too). Again, a demonstration of such unparalleled generosity from total strangers. But their kindness didn't stop there - they also picked us up and drove us around town showing us the sights, and took us out for dinner. Unexpectedly, another Warm Showers host joined us too. We'd actually contacted Joe first, but as he was driving back from California and didn't know if he'd be back in time, he suggested we contact Warren and Jan. So it was actually Joe who ended up buying us dinner. Such a great group of genuinely good people. We were riding past Joe's house the next day, so we stopped in for a chat and to thank him again.
From Weatherford we crossed into Oklahoma, and rode straight to pick up our rental car to drive down to Austin, Texas. We did it this way because it was closer to drive from Oklahoma City than from Amarillo, Texas. So after a day's riding Kurt drove late into the night, stopping so we could sleep in the car at a rest stop just outside of Austin. The next morning we set off early to find our way to Franklin's BBQ, one of the most famous BBQ joints in the country. We'd seen it on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, but I'm sure it's been featured in many other food shows. It's that good. It was a Saturday morning and we arrived just after 8am to find ourselves joining the queue with about 100 people already ahead of us. It's a weekly tradition where all the locals line up early, armed with chairs and chilly bins full of booze to wait the five or so hours until you eventually make it inside. The place opens at 11am, but we didn't make it inside until about 1pm. We were standing next in line to actually enter the door when a staff member put a sign up on the door saying 'Sold Out'. Our faces obviously showed our utter dismay, so she quickly reassured us it was just for those people who were only now joining the queue. Thank god for that. There was no way anyone was depriving me of the tasty BBQ goodness I had waited hours for, and could now smell. When we eventually got to the counter we were surprised to find the actual owner, Aaron Franklin, behind the counter ready to serve us. It was cool to see that despite being such a huge name now, he still loved it enough to show up and serve customers himself. He helped us choose what to have, and then we carried our gloriously laden tray of food to the table. We had a tantalising array of brisket, pulled pork, pork ribs and pork sausage, along with sides of potato salad and coleslaw. And a few slices of bread they dish out for each serving. Where to begin. It was quite easily the best BBQ meat either of us have ever tasted in our lives. So melt-in-your-mouth tender and full of flavour, every mouthful was heavenly. Even eating it cold the next day, it was like candy. There are many places that have so much hype surrounding them that you build up your expectations, only to be so bitterly disappointed by the reality you wish you'd never bothered. Franklin's BBQ is not one of those places. If you're ever in Austin, you HAVE to go. In fact, if you're ever in Texas, or any of the surrounding States, you have to go. We made a nearly 800 mile roundtrip just to experience it, and we'd do it again. It's totally worth it.
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| Best BBQ EVER! |
While in Texas we found our favourite fast food joint - Whataburger. Easily the best burgers of them all, we were later gutted to discover that they're only in a couple of states other than Texas, but none that we'd be going to. If only we'd known that we would've stuffed our faces with it when we got the chance.
We returned to Oklahoma City and stayed with Moni from Warm Showers, a German ex-pat and a total ball of energy. She made us a tasty home-cooked meal and drove us around town, stopping so we could walk around the Oklahoma City bombing memorial which was a depressing, yet somehow peaceful place. When we mentioned we'd be riding through Tulsa in a couple of days, she immediately contacted her friend there, asking if he'd be happy to host us. He wasn't part of the Warm Showers community, but because Moni vouched for us he was happy to have us stay. The day we rode into Tulsa it had been threatening rain for a while, but we thought we'd make it. No such luck. We were only a couple of miles away when it started pissing down, and didn't stop. We were already drenched so we just carried on in the rain, arriving at Sean and Sherri's looking like drowned rats, and probably not smelling much better either. They knew just what we needed, so had towels ready for us to shower, and then showed us the washing machine so we could wash and dry our clothes. Sean, who had been in the restaurant business for years, cooked us an amazing meal that we gratefully wolfed down. After dinner Kurt and I had a go on their recumbent bikes, which take a bit of getting used to. I played it safe and rode the trike version, so I had no balancing issues, but Kurt tried the upright version which is much harder than it looks. We had a quick ride around the block to get some ice-cream and Kurt was just getting the hang of it. They're crazy looking things when you're on one, but a recumbent would be a million times more comfortable than a normal bike. Anything to avoid a constantly sore ass...
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| The Oklahoma City bombing memorial |
The next day of riding was a frustrating one, filled with too many stops to count pumping air into rapidly deflating tyres, and changing tubes. Then a couple of miles from Vinita, where we were stopping for the night, Kurt had a blowout. So I rode the rest of the way into town to see if I could find a bike shop and get a replacement tyre to take back to Kurt. But of course the only one in town was closed, meaning Kurt had to walk his bike the rest of the way. Walmart had nothing for us either, so in the end Kurt had to MacGyver a short-term solution with duct tape and Subway cookie packets. Brilliant. Walmart let us down twice actually - we'd been told by a Warm Showers host that cyclists had camped outside a Walmart, so we asked if we could pitch our tent on the grass behind the building. They said they couldn't let us due to health and safety reasons (bullshit), so we ended up staying across the road outside a local Legion club (like an RSL/RSA). Screw you Walmart. The next morning, with Kurt's genius patching job done, we swapped tyres around so the damaged one was on my front where it would take the least amount of weight, and believe it or not, it lasted the entire 65-70 miles to Joplin that day, which took us through three states. From Oklahoma we crossed very briefly into the southeast corner of Kansas for a few miles, before crossing the border into Missouri. We'd let our Warm Showers host in Joplin know of our situation, and she generously offered to come pick us up if the tyre didn't hold out. Thankfully we didn't need to take her up on her offer, but we were glad to make it to her place where the generosity continued - she actually gave up her room and slept on the couch that night (despite our insistent protests) so we could have a bed. Amazing.
A few days later we had another Warm Showers stay lined up in a place called Rolla. Our hosts had a nice house and we had a big room with ensuite all to ourselves for the night. They also had a massive dog, we think it was a labradoodle. Whatever it was, it was definitely part poodle and huge. After taking us out for dinner we went back to the house to relax before bed. Unfortunately this was interrupted by a visit from their friend. Sue and Mark were religious people, but not at all in your face about it, much to our relief. The same couldn't be said for Mark's mate. He came over to play the latest CD of their Christian a cappella group (Mark was no longer a member), which is pretty much our worst nightmare - just add in a bit of country and we'd well and truly be in hell. We'd hoped to escape to our room before he arrived but alas, we weren't quick enough. We were then subjected to almost an hour of torture, while Mark listened to the CD and this douchebag rapturously raved on about how fantastic the music was. He was so into it, it was disturbing. I've never wanted to unhear music more in my life.
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| A massive dog |
Arriving in St. Louis a couple of days later, we'd organised to stay with Tom, who we'd met when we were in Cuba. He lived in a big old 3 storey house, owned by his flatmates Stephanie and Mike who were happy for us to stay for a night or two. We already knew Tom was a quietly hilarious guy and we got along great with him, and thankfully Steph and Mike were just as cool. We ended up staying with them for 4 nights, so they obviously thought we were alright too. Even more so when Kurt said he wanted to try out their electric tools to clear out their backyard. Apart from going up to the top of the Gateway Arch, we mainly relaxed and ate some good food, including gooey butter cake, a tasty local treat. We also went to a late night preview screening of The World's End with Steph and Mike, where we only had to pay about $12 each for plush comfort and service. Each chair was a massive lay-z-boy with a table between them and an i-pad to order food on. We'd all snuck in our own lollies, so we just ordered a large drink which of course came with free refills. Anytime we wanted it topped up we'd just have to push a button and the attendant would come to us. Something like that would cost about $50 or more back home. Good old America. After 4 days of awesome hospitality with great people, we thought we'd better get on the move again.
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| View from the top of the Gateway Arch |
Leaving St. Louis we crossed the border into Illinois, our 8th and final state (including Kansas). Because we didn't want to arrive in Chicago until the end of August, we were able to take the final week a bit easier. And just to top it off, Illinois is actually miraculously flat. With some great bike paths. What a perfect way to end the trip. We had three more Warm Showers stays in the final days, the first of which we actually felt slightly uncomfortable for the first time. The husband was the registered host online and the one interested in cycling, but his wife was the only one home when we arrived. She gave the distinct impression she didn't really enjoy hosting people, and it was a very awkward couple of hours trying to have stilted conversation with her. At dinner that night (which they kindly paid for) she also told us she was concerned that we were travelling for too long and we wouldn't remember things. Thanks for your unwanted, and ignorant opinion lady. I don't think she'd even left the state let alone travelled outside of the country.
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| Rubbing Abraham Lincoln's nose in Springfield, IL |
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| A Springfield favourite - the ridiculously large 'horseshoe' |
The second host we had was well-meaning and very hospitable, but we couldn't get past one fact - he had shit breath. And not just bad breath, but like he'd literally been eating faeces. We had to restrain ourselves from recoiling in disgust every time he'd open his mouth. He did cook us a nice meal, but being an ex-chef he was a bit too full of himself and wanked about with the presentation. We don't give a shit what it looks like on the plate, as long as it tastes good and fills us up. He also had a story about some spirit that visited him and told him they were married long ago and she died waiting for him and blah blah blah, he's now got a girlfriend who is this woman reincarnated or some such bullshit. Like I said, he had good intentions and fed us well, but sometimes we just had to smile and nod to disguise what we were really thinking.
Our final hosts were the last night before reaching the finish line in Chicago. They said they'd be home at about 5 or 6pm so they'd leave the back door unlocked for us to let ourselves in and make ourselves at home. And just to make sure we knew we'd found the right house, they left a note on the door saying 'Keryn, this is the right house. Welcome'. How fucking awesome is that? Once again, the total trust and kindness of these people blew us away. Frank and Sue fed us well and tempted us with a nice cold beer, but we'd made it this far without a drink so we could last one more day.
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| A storm brewing before our final day |
During the whole ride there was a pretty equal split between us camping, staying in hotels and with Warm Showers hosts. The Warm Showers community was our saving grace on this trip. The members are generally all cyclists themselves, whether currently or in the past, and it is the simple fact that we were on bicycles ourselves that meant they opened their homes to us with no questions asked. The incredible generosity and kindness of the people we stayed with blew us away, especially in this day and age when people are so wary of strangers. We often had different views or opinions than our hosts, and we didn't even always particularly like them, but it gave us a totally different experience and was often something to look forward to after a hard day's ride. We hope to be able to give back by hosting people ourselves eventually, when we're back in Australia.
The final day dawned and we only had a nice, easy 30 miles til the finish line in downtown Chicago. It ended up pissing down for most of that ride, but we didn't really care as the end was nigh. Seeing the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower rising up in the distance was a sweet, sweet sight (for me more so than Kurt). We stopped off a few blocks short of the finish line and bought a celebratory bottle of bubbles to crack later, then it was over. Derek was waiting there for us with his camera, ready to capture the glorious moment for us. It was kind of a weird feeling seeing the Route 66 sign which marked the end for us, but we'd done it. Halle-fucking-lujah. 2,404 miles (3,868 km) in 36 days, plus 10 rest days. We've done some amazing things on the this trip, but none as difficult or rewarding as this, and we're pretty damn proud of ourselves for doing it.
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