Hey
This guy contacted me about a bike ride for charity. If you want to check it out, here is the website:


www.rodmanrideforkids.org.!

Finish

Fairfield, CT

Well, it’s been a week and a half since the eight SPS Cyclists proudly made their way down Black Point Road to the Prout’s Neck Yacht Club, where with unbridled shouts of joy, we plunged our bodies in the frigid waters of the Atlantic Ocean, concluding our journey.

Now, I’ve tried to procrastinate for the past ten days and do essentially nothing. I’ve even taken to replying back to people who leave posts on my Facebook Wall (the rarest of occasions for me), and have begun rereading select Harry Potter books again (so that the next time I play Ellen and Ellie in “Harry Potter” 20 Questions, I won’t be completely steamrolled).

But there comes a day when you have to return to reality. It’s time for me to process my thoughts on our trip and tie up all the loose ends, starting with this blog post.

            At the beginning, when people asked me why I decided to go on this bike trip, I gave them a really shallow answer. As many of the other Cyclists jokingly remind me, my short bio for our brochure started off with, “I’ve always been into anything extreme. And quite simply, I don’t see how anything can get more extreme than a 3,000 – mile bike trip.”

Although I sound like a thrill-junkie, that’s the initial reason why I went on this trip. For the excitement,for the sights, for the gratification of pushing my body to its physical limit. I wanted to ride across the country to quench my drive to accomplish bigger and better things.

During the first few days, I did push myself. Brendon and I would bike as hard as I could (I’m sure Brendon could have blown past me if he wanted to), and we would frequently become separated from the rest of the group. It wasn’t until the third day of biking that I realized that my mindset was helping me as an individual, but not the team as a whole.

Brendon was the one who figured it out. We had started out from the Mazama, Washington, and had about thirty miles of flat road until we began our first climb of the day. So the group decided to draft for the first time. With Brendon in the lead, we clocked in some of the fastest speeds I had experienced. It was incredible. Then Gwen fell. She bumped tires with Brendon, who was right in front of her, and hit the ground hard. While the three doctors who were with us that week tended to Gwen’s scrapes and bruises, Brendon said to no one in particular, “I’m gonna stay with you guys today. I like this pace. And I like helping out the whole group.”

For the prior two days, I hadn’t even considered that by staying with everyone else and contributing to the entire team, I could help to unite us all and also fulfill my own desires.

From that moment on, I tried to focus all of my energy into helping us work as a cohesive unit.

In the beginning, this refocusing brought me more hardship than joy.

On the flat plains of Montana, I frequently received a lot of constructive criticism when I led our pace line. It didn’t come that naturally to me. More often than not, I would try to gain speed too quickly, leaving a massive gap behind me. Or I wouldn’t point out a patch of gravel in the road, leaving my comrades to have to make mad swerves around the obstacle. For weeks, I heard from my exasperated friends, “Parker, can you please not speed up so quickly? You need to bike faster more gradually” or “Parker, slow down!” or “Parker, you need to call out the holes in the road!”. I’ll be the first one to admit that I was a terrible pace-liner. But what was really tough was that I put so much energy into trying to support all my teammates, and yet seemed much more of a hindrance than help. What was worse was that it didn’t seem like my overall skills were improving.

I’m happy to say that the criticism gradually faded away.

From experiences like that, I learned what it means to work on a real team. Although receiving such constant feedback about what I could do better was sometimes aggravating, I had to remind myself that it was supposed to be beneficial. That’s what good teams do: they push each other relentlessly to bring out the best in each other.

I was still using the bike trip as a way to challenge myself physically and mentally however. I remained much too focused on my own personal goals. The fact that we were riding across the country to help kids with cancer didn’t mean as much as it should. That all changed on one rainy morning in Montana.

As soon as we hit the road out of Gildford, we knew that we were in for a rough morning of biking. We had experienced rain everyday, but it had never come down as hard as this. My sunglasses soon became rain-splattered and foggy. Despite the extra layer of my raincoat, all of my clothes were soaked. And the rain just kept on coming.

During our morning leg, I found myself cycling side-by-side with Mark Richardson. “How you holding up Parker?” he asked jovially.

“Not too bad,” I replied, “the rain’s kinda tough though.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but you know what I just thought of? I was thinking about how much a kid being treated at Dana-Farber would prefer to be here rather than there.”

“Whoa,” I said, surprised by his insight, “I’m sure you’re right.”

Before Mark’s words could really sink in, a voice from the front of our group called out, “Grayson, get up here!” It was Renzo telling me to come up and hang out with him. Instantly I sped up to my tent-buddy, who shouted at me, “Dude, how epic is this? We look so badass right now!”

I had to agree with him.

“Dude, you know what I’m feeling right now?” I yelled.

“What?”

“Spaceman!”

With that, we launched into a rendition of “Spaceman” by the Killers.

As we were belting out the chorus, I couldn’t help but think about Mark’s words. There were some kids at Dana-Farber who had never known what it was like to go on a bike ride with your best friends. They had never felt the cold, but refreshing drops of rain on their faces as they sang until their faces turned blue.

            I really hope that after all of this, the money we’ve raised ensures that one kid can have the same life-lasting experience I had that gray morning.

Even though I started to come to these realizations, I still felt that I was missing something. I thought a lot about what that might be on this bike trip. In fact I spent hours fretting over it.

In the end, I’m happy to say that I found what I was looking for. The trigger came in a discussion I had with my dad while walking along the Mississippi River in Little Falls, Minnesota one evening. Dad was describing the small-town environment that he had been brought up in, not unlike the town we were walking through.

 

"You know, Dad, I'm really glad about the way I've been brought up."

"What do you mean?" my dad asked.

"Well, we don't have everything that a lot of our friends do, but we have something more basic."

 

It hit me. What was missing was that somehow over the last couple of year I had forgotten I am.

 I’m the guy with the small-town values. I’m open-minded, hardworking, and kind.

            Cycling through small communities for seven weeks made me realize that the close friendships I had formed with the other Cyclists were not so different from those that held these rural towns together.  I’ve resolved to go back to St. Paul’s and live my life by these new insights.

From now on, I vow to be a real small-town guy.

Last night, before I shut down my computer, I played a cover of the song the “Two of Us” by the Beatles. Biddle had played it for us on his iPhone to wake us up after our rest day in Niagara Falls. I sat down in one of kitchen chairs, and I thought about this amazing journey. I remember it being really turbulent, filled with highs and lows.

But there is only one image that came to mind when I thought about this entire trip.

 

It was the seven beaming smiles of Ellie, Renzo, Ellen, Brendon, Sarah, Gwen, and Mark at the end of the trip. 

Dartmouth, MA

After spending a week in Maine, I'm back home now for the first time in a while. Everywhere I look, I remember myself first packing for the bike trip, excited, nervous, and very eager. It was a mix of emotions going through my head then.

Even now, I have a lot of different final thoughts about the trip. First of all, I'm constantly reminded of the whole experience. Sometimes, it's as simple as the way someone says something that triggers a flashback. We really enjoyed ourselves on the trip. There's no doubt about it. Everywhere I go now, I have a story to tell, and a pretty great one at that. I have the cyclists to mostly thank for that. They made the experience especially memorable.

I'm really missing you guys.

I think it's really important though to remember what truly came out of this journey. Sure, there are a lot of great memories and an awesome sense of accomplishment, but reaching our finish line means more than just that.

It's our fundraising goal of $100,000 that really stands out to me.

We reached it, and when I say "we", I'm referring to so many people. Not only the cyclists, but also our families, our communities, and our friends all across the country. Throughout this trip, there were countless supporters that helped out for no reason other than that of their own selflessness and generosity. They came in all shapes and forms, from the cyclists' own parents to the people that donated right out of their pockets when they heard about our cause.

I admire these supporters so much. Along with us, they held strong in the belief that together we can all make a difference. In our early fundraising brochure, I remember talking about bringing about change through a determined effort. That is what I am most going to remember about this trip. It was more than just a bicycle ride. It was a collection of people coming together to fight cancer.

I came back home to hear some bad news. I realize now more than ever that every day around the world people get bad news. It's tough for all of us. Through this bike trip, I want people to see that it is possible to make such a big difference. Anybody can do what we did, whether it's biking, or something completely different. I know this isn't over for me. I'm already looking forward to the next similar fundraiser I can become a part of, and I encourage everyone who's reading this to do the same.

I'm very grateful to all of the people that were a part of this trip. We did it everyone! We really made a difference. It's now that our fundraising goal becomes more than just a number. It becomes a sign that people are willing to help. I've seen people who struggle to pay their own bills give us donations. I won't ever forget that.

We're not going to stop talking about this trip anytime soon. I know I'll reminisce like crazy. Let us all just remember the good that came from this undertaking, and that amidst all of the bad news, through a determined effort, together, we can bring good news.

Thetford, VT

So I was just sitting in bed, waiting for Biddle's movie to load, checking facebook, email, the usual when I realized: it has been exactly one week since it all ended. It wasn't so much a realization about the length in time - I mean it feels like about one week has passed. I guess it was more that I am now quantifying time from the end of the trip instead of the beginning. During the trip, we would measure our distance by how many weeks it had been - four weeks meant four parent rotations which meant 2/3 of the way done and still over 1000 miles to go - that sort of thing. But now its been one week from the end...what does that mean. As far as I know, it means I am at home, without somewhere to get to tomorrow, and without all my friends.
When I realized all of this, I got what Renzo would call a 'bikers low'. This usually happened (for me at least) when I looked down at my odometer and realized that we still had 30 miles to go until our first snack, not to mention another 70 after that. But as Gwen likes to say, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Usually when I ask 'what's tomorrow looking like?', someone either smiles and and proclaims 'short!' or groans and replies '100 and some miles...uphill!'. But now the answers have changed - they seem to all morph into some form of 'rainy. You really need to clean your room'. Each day isn't unique anymore. Everyday is turning into every other, running into the day before it; so I have just stopped asking. I can probably recount every single day of our six week trip - where we stayed, where the wind came from, what we had for dinner, etc. But of the past week, about all I could tell you was that I went to a soccer game at some point and had an eye appointment a couple of days ago. I know it sounds really lame and cheesy but we really did live every day to the fullest. Every single day had ups and downs, good meals and maple sticks, hail storms and sunscreen, songs and grumpy faces, and each of those things made each day real and worth remembering. I think a good sign of an amazing experience is when you refuse to forget any details, when you go over it again and again in your mind, when you write everything down and take a million pictures.
I guess what I am trying to say is that this trip has been truly unforgettable. And I don't know about you guys, but I am still not quite sure how we made it. Thanks to everyone who played any sort of role in our trip, from the person who put up with us camping next to them to the riders themselves, you made the trip what it was and I would never have it any other way.

Video

My dad took a lot of video in the two weeks he was on the trip with us, and he made a short, 18 minute video that he put on Youtube. It's divided into two parts. Here's the link:

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wW6pSVdmDUE

Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYjZl-eOMRk

Jay's Poem

Yet another way that Jay shared his knowledge with us: a poem.

JAY SPEAKMAN
7/24/2009

OUT OF THE WEST RODE THE SEVEN
A heroic poem of the road

Representing St. Paul’s School
seven young riders came,
on skinny tires, coast-to-coast
from Washington to Maine.

By blue highway and country lane
on seven silver steeds,
the seven fearless riders rode
to help their friends in need.

From Renzo’s fall the first day out
to hailstorms and trucks,
you ask this group what pulled them through,
they’ll likely tell you...”mostly luck”.

But if each rider were perchance
to wax more philosophic,
I’ll venture here’s what each might say
on this most important topic.

Ellie’d tell you, “made-up songs”,
while Gwen would say “good cheer”.
Sara’d pick “camaraderie”,
for Ellen, “tears and eighteen gears”.

Now Renzo, clearly “corazon”,
for Brendon, “attitude”,
but ask young Parker what spurred him on,
undoubtedly, he’d say: ”food!”

Stowe, VT

Today I had my first normal day of summer. I woke up late, wandered downstairs, and made myself a plate of scrambled eggs. I lay in the sun, jumped in the cold water, and ran out, shivering, to my towel. I read my book, took a shower, and thought to myself, “for the rest of the summer, I have a rest day EVERY day!” But then I realized, rest days aren’t that cool when I’m not on the bike trip. When I can’t wake up to Ellen’s funny sleep-noises, or spend the day doing piles and piles of laundry. Just like anything, rest days aren’t fun when they are a daily occurrence, when not followed by a day of one hundred uphill miles. I often got laughed at as “the complainer”, and I’ll admit, I am one of the most skilled whiners I have ever known. But when it comes down to it, I enjoyed the last two months more than most anything I have ever done.

I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone that was involved in the trip.
To all of the parents- who have worked tirelessly with us since October to get us going, and dedicated their summers to being the backbone of our trip. You are all awesome- every week was a treat and it was great getting to know all of you.
To Mark Richardson- who led us fearlessly for seven weeks, and became a great friend to each of us in the process.
To the Parkhurst family- who opened up their home to us, and our family and friends, so that we could have a perfect finale to our epic journey. Thank you so much for letting us into your beautiful home and being such generous hosts.
To Tish Lynn, my wonderful aunt- who worked diligently to get in touch with all of the newspapers along the way and generated a lot of great press for us, making it possible for us to reach (and exceed) our goal of $100,000.
To everyone who we met along the way- thank you so much. I have never seen such generosity as I did in the past two months. Thank you, also, for sharing your sad, touching, and often uplifting stories with us about cancer. After meeting countless people affected by cancer, it is so clear to me that we fundraised for the right cause.
And finally to the cyclists- you guys rock. I have incredible admiration for each of you, and cherish your friendships. I can’t wait to see you all (not Sarah… but you BETTER come visit!!) back at school. By the way, I wore a bathingsuit in public yesterday, tan lines revealed for the first time, and all I could think was how I wished you had all been there so I would have felt a little less awkward. Or at least we could have all felt awkward together.

It’s been four days since we dipped our tires, and our entire bodies, into the icy, salty Atlantic Ocean in Prout’s Neck. I have spent these few days “recovering”, or basically just being lazy. I sleepily move from meal to meal, lounge on the couch, or graze through the kitchen of my aunt’s house in Maine, where I am staying for a few days. I dragged myself out of my stupor today to go for a run, and it literally drained every ounce of energy out of me.

As you can see, I am not having the same restlessness problems that Gwen is apparently having. I was more than happy to climb into bed that first night on July 24th, and even happier to sleep past six o’clock the next morning. But when I crawl into bed at night, I find myself wishing I could turn around to find Sarah and Ellen in the bed opposite mine. When I eat a good meal, all I can think of is Renzo and Parker’s ongoing competition: who had the biggest appetite. I can hear Gwen’s voice in my head: trying to rap or singing some really bad Destiny’s Child song (say my name, say my name… when no one is arouuund). Or Brendon trying to find Renzo’s secret tickle spot, which he elatedly finally found on our last night in Raymond, Maine. It’s not the biking that I miss, as fun as it was, as much as the people. I can bike anywhere; the area around my house proved to be some of the most challenging and exhausting of the whole trip. But what I can’t find back in Stowe are the cyclists. I miss you all so much. Each of you guys made the trip for me: it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or successful as it was if any one of you had not been there.

Well, I think I’ve gone on long enough. A big thanks to you all. Sorry that this was so long, props to you if you read the whole thing. I guess we Dukes just have a lot to say…

Cyclists, I await your phone calls. You know I’m always up for a good chat. :-)

Dartmouth, MA

After 45 days on the road, it's hard to believe that I slept in my own bed last night. The first few minutes of snuggling into my own sheets and covers I was in heaven: listening to the sounds of home through my open window, actually wearing pajamas, and having a real pillow. But fifteen mintes later I wasn't asleep, and, as cliche as it might sound, I felt a void.

I've been thinking about getting to Maine and arriving at home for almost seven weeks (it got me to the top of Washington Pass on day two, a day I will never forget), but what I forgot was how much I was going to miss the group dynamic, constant companionship, and being completely exhausted from the days activities. I know that last one may sound a little weird, but there was nothing better than arriving at the campsite/church/hotel every night, knowing that you had just eaten away at part of the country and enlarged your thunder thighs. Although it was a little chaotic with constantly changing scenery, I loved the sense of adventure (admittantly it took a bit of time to grow accustomed to it) and accomplishment.

What annoyed the group most in the beginning was my complaining about being left alone in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone, no map, and no one. I would demand that they had to wait for everyone at a turn to make sure no one was left behind (after a, what I thought, terrifying incident in Riverside) as the weeks progressed my hissy fits diminished and I was pretty confident that even if I lost the group I would still be able to find the camp site, or perhaps I just didn't feel the group would leave me in the dust anymore. But who knows whether it was trust or personal growth, I will take away a sense of independence from this trip.

Another peice of me gained from this trip is the heightened ability to "go with the flow", as Parker would say. Constantly arriving in a foreign environment forced us to be able to expect the unexpected and think on our feet. Perhaps the post seated Upper commonroom won't seem so daunting.

All in all I wouldn't have changed a thing about the trip. The people, the towns, and the lodging were unforgettable. The Elliphone during the pacelines which kept things entertaining, Sarah's explosions (completing her first century long before everybody else), Renzo's giggle which always seemed to pacify the situation, Parker's grab bag of phrases, Brendon's constant encouragement (even if it wasn't on purpose), and Ellen's ability to incorporate a game into every ride. This summer will live with me forever, and perhaps even the tan lines too. Thanks to everyone who was involved for the best seven weeks I have ever had.

Prout's Neck, ME

WE MADE IT TO THE COAST!
We arrived in Prout's Neck fashionably late (3:30) on Friday. The first thirty miles seemed top never end. It was raining and between all the cyclists, SEVEN flats occurred. However, once we could see the ocean and smell the salt, everything turned into a blur and we booked it to the sea. Simply put, it was amazing. We were all shouting and screaming for the last 5 miles. Upon arrival at the ocean, we ran down and without hesitation, jumped in. The water didn't even seem cold after everything that we went through on the trip. It was the most exciting and rewarding moment of our lives. The sense of accomplishment was huge and the amount of support from everyone only added to our elation. Seeing all our families, and people we had met along the way was awesome. After appropriate celebration, we were graciously hosted my the Parkhurst's at their home. It was great to talk about the trip and sort of debrief on the cross-country trek. Thank you all for following our blog. Sorry for the delay on the blog... After getting home for the first time in several weeks, we all just kicked back! The amount of support we have received on this trip from family, friends, and strangers has been unbelievable. We could not have made it without everyone's support. I thought I would leave the blog on a great note. Mrs. Stoner informed us on the beach of Prout's Neck after we had finished celebrating our arrival that we made it to the $100,000 mark. In fact, it will end up a bit over. This number is amazing. The fact that people are this giving in the this economic environment is great and we are so happy that we made it to our fundraising goal. Thank you so much!

Raymond, ME

Wow! It's hard to believe it, but we have only one day left. One forty-mile day. As I write this I'm sitting around Dave Brockett's (Mr. Brockett's brother) cozy, rustic living room at his camp on Crescent Lake. The whole group is here, and joining us for the night is SPS graduate Stu Lovejoy. And oh yeah, we're in Maine. Finally.
Today's journey was a shorter ride than usual, only a mere seventy miles to Sarah's uncle's house. We began the day with an excellent breakfast of blueberry pancakes and bacon at Sarah's house, then embarked on our voyage of the day. We slowly rode through the first fifteen miles of the day, going back to memories of the trip and replaying them over again. At the fifteen-mile marker Mr. Brockett beckoned us off the road and told that we were in Maine! Finally, our voyage was officially coming to a finish. We got off our bikes and posed to take a photo of us forming an ME with our bodies at the border. Then the mosquitoes attacked! They had been lying in ambush, waiting for the unwitting cyclists to get off their bikes. They took full advantage of their unmoving prey, biting us on virtually every location on our bodies. "Take the picture!" we yelled to Mark Richardson, as the mosquitoes buzzed around us for Round Two of their feeding frenzy. Mark took our picture, and we sprinted back to our bikes, picked them up, and hastily continued on. That was our welcome to Maine.
Another fifteen miles later, the group stopped for the rarest of occasions: second breakfast. As always, the extra meal hit the spot. The next forty miles were uneventful, save for Sarah getting a flat. Hey, if we didn't get one a day, we wouldn't be doing our job right. While Mr. Brockett quickly changed her tire, Sarah swatted the ever-present mosquitoes off of her dad and herself. The next event of the day came two miles away from the Brockett's camp. In front of us loomed a short, yet literally forty-five degree hill. Knowing that this was one of our last hills of the trip, we went at it with gusto, and arrived at the Brockett camp. There we were greeted by our two hosts for the night, Dave Brockett (Mr. Brockett's brother) and Dawn Brockett. They warmly welcomed us to their home and invited us to come take a dip in their lake. The water was cool and refreshing, and no sooner had we dried ourselves off than SPS graduate Stu Lovejoy, who was working at a nearby summer camp, stopped by. We had dinner with Stu, and talked for hours outside in front of the outdoor fire, roasting marshmallows and catching up on each other's stories. Soon enough though, the sun set and Stu had to go. And now we're inside, reminiscing about past adventures as we organize pictures for tomorrow's festivites.

It's hard to think that we have only forty miles left. I never thought that we'd reach this point in time. We've been riding for so long now, that doing this day in and day out has become a way of life. It will be hard to revert back to the normalcy of the real world.

I think we're all ready to be done though. It will be interesting to see how tomorrow's events play out in comparison to the millions of scenarios that we've all concocted in our minds while on the road. But no matter what happens, I'm sure that it will be a day that we will remember for the rest of our lives.

Randolph, NH

Hello from the Brocket's house and Randolph, NH! Today was a pretty challenging ride. The hardest part, especially for Ellie, was leaving the Dukes. We really enjoyed our stay at their home and are grateful for their hospitality to us all. As for the ride itself, it was one of the hillier days of the trip. The Green Mountains are really tricky in that as soon as you crest a hill, you go back down, and then back up, and back down... FOREVER! That is what made today a challenge. The day was also pretty long (100 miles) so that added to the fatigue. It was well worth it though because once we got to the Brockett's, we were greeted with a big dinner and a bunch of friendly faces at the town center. The town's people put on a dinner for us at the center and we got to talk about our bike trip with them. It was great to tell stories but also sad to realize the trip is coming to an end. As we reflected on our time in the Cascades, Rockies, Mississippi River, etc., a real sense of nostalgia overcame the group and we truly came to grasp how much ground we had covered. The dinner was awesome and we really enjoyed the generousity from the people of Randolph. Tomorrow is a much shorter and flatter day. Today was the last hard day of the trip.. Although these days were always hard, I know that in weeks, months, and years, we will remember days like today and feel a real sense of accomplishment. We are looking forward to seeing our families, friends, and supporters in Maine.

As for my month away from the group... I am not much for talking about myself but I will say that the rowing was a great experience and I sure learned a lot of new things about it. The blog was a frequent stop on my computer while at camp and the cyclists never left my mind. I love all the members of the bike trip and the cause that we are raising money for. I cannot put into words how happy I am to be back with my closest friends.

See you in Maine,
Brendon

Stowe, VT

We said goodbye to New York State this morning and hello to Vermont. The familiar landscape kept us going despite the hills, and having Brendon back in the pack made the first twenty miles to Bristol fly by. The only thing I will distinctly remember about this morning is the smell that burnt my nostrils as we headed by multiple cornfields. They must have just put down some new manure because the smell was inescapable, even as I covered my nose with my gloves.

Our first snack lingered on for about 45 minutes, a little longer than usual, but soon we were heading up the app gap. The news camera crew continued on with us to take some action shots as we headed up the hill, and before we knew it the riders Biddle gathered from Stowe joined us for the arduous climb. The men which braved both sides of the gap were decked out in intimidating bike wear. For me, seeing Dick Drummond on the road was one of the most reassuring moments of this trip. He provided us with the bikes which we are riding and has been on the phone any time we've had a mechanical question we could not figure out.

With our enlarged group we headed up the ten percent grade. Boy was it a climb. We made sure to stay in some type of pack which helped with the mental stamina. When we had about a half mile left you could see the top and the crowd of people waiting for us. For me that made it harder knowing exactly where I needed to get to, but on the other hand it was nice to have support. I felt that if I stopped I would not be able to get my momentum back up, and it would be the end, so we all kept on trekking until we reached the top. The ride down made it worth it, but the sharp turns made me hit the breaks hard. Twenty miles from the bottom we arrived at Ellie's house.

The second we got to Ellie's house we jumped into the pond for a refreshing dip before some nice hot showers and delicious food. There was a whole crowd of people for dinner asking us tons of questions and providing great conversation, as always in the Duke household, but we're definitely ready for bed, even though it is not even eight. We're headed to Brockett's house tomorrow!!!

Posted by Gwen

Addendum by Ellie:
Hello! I just wanted to say thank you SO MUCH to everyone that showed up to meet us while riding, in Waterbury, and at my house here in Stowe. It was amazing to see all of those familiar faces after weeks of strangers and new places. You guys are the best... and you represented Stowe very well. My friends have been so impressed by you all and really enjoyed spending time here in Stowe, even if it was only for a few hours. I can't wait to get home in a week and see you all again!

Port Henry, NY

First and most importantly, Brendon is here. He flew in on a boat plane, after having received a silver medal at junior nationals (!), and got dropped off at a campsite 10 miles away from the correct location. Thinking he was waiting for us at our site, we sped through the last 2 miles, and burst into the campsite, spotting a skinny blonde person conversing with my parents. First thoughts… huh… Brendon lost a lot of weight… and got a haircut? Unfortunately, it was the campsite manager, and our hopes were crushed as we learned that Brendon was walking the 10 miles to our campsite.

Mark rescued Brendon from the road and our reunion was GLORIOUS. We even chanted for him as the Tahoe came down the driveway. Brendon’s first observation was, “Wow, nothing has changed,”

Except that Ellen now has a horror story from the trip; a dog attacked her today, lunging at her leg as she sped down a hill. But her bike was too much for the black lab. The dog was defeated, and Ellen barely managed to stay upright on her bike, but she made it through.

Today was a long ride: 110 miles through the Adironcacks. Hopefully we won’t be too sore for tackling the Ap Gap tomorrow!

Posted by Sarah

Old Forge, NY

After a delicious pancake breakfast in the Selkirk State Park, we were on the road by 7:45: much earlier than usual. I had been dreading Day 40 for a while, so when we started our uphill battle to Old Forge, I was a little nervous. It turns out I had no reason to be, because we arrived at the Adirondack Lodge at three o’clock. Maybe we all had a little extra oomph from the pancakes, or maybe it was Mr. Brockett whipping us into shape, but we definitely traveled at a faster speed today that I am used to. It was a day full of hills, mostly up, with a fifteen-hundred foot elevation gain throughout the day.

The ride was relatively seamless. No rain, no crashes, no wrong turns, and not even a single flat. As my dad commented, we “run like a well-oiled machine”. I should hope so, after six weeks together! Of course we only start to get it down in the last week… typical.

I would like to add a HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to Brendon, who is bringing home a silver medal after his four weeks at crew camp. He raced against the Canadian national team, the Mexican national team, Boston Rowing Club, and many others and did us very proud, placing second in the 4’s (meaning there were four people in his boat). Brendon, you are amazing, and we are all SO proud of you! We can’t wait for you to rejoin us tomorrow in Port Henry. Hopefully we will all be able to keep up with you a little better this time around, although I won’t be surprised if you are even stronger now than you were when you left us.

Now we are at the beautiful Adirondack League Club lodge in Old Forge, New York. Mr. Grayson is a member of the club, and he drove up from Connecticut to meet us here and provide us with these amazing accommodations. From the window of the room that Gwen and I are sharing, we have a sweeping view of the lake, along with the hills and beautiful forest around us. I am finally starting to feel like we are in New England, or at least close. Even though I DO hate hills, they are a comforting reminder that I am getting closer and closer to my home turf. Soon enough, I’ll be sleeping in my own bed! (Snuggling up with Gwenny, of course).

Port Ontario, NY

Written by Ellen:

After a delicious breakfast of left over berries and cream, we realized we had absolutely no extra tubes. (I will admit that I am the worst of all – already with 12 flats). So before we head out we had a speed patching circle going on. One person would find the hole while someone else marked it and passed it on to be glued.

After only 3 miles, the mappers (Parker and I) already didn’t know which way to go so we biked up to some photographers on the side of the road. After figuring out which way to go, they asked us to take our picture. Apparently, they were the National Association of Photoshop Professionals. (????)

While following Map my Ride’s instructions, we managed to make a full circle around one neighborhood and come back to the same road we started on. But then Parker and I got our act together and found a short cut that took off about 7 miles (which is a lot on a bike).

The day proceeded as usual – 35 miles until snack then 35 lunch. Today did do one thing though, it was an eye-opener for us: oh yeah… there are such things as hills, and they are hard. Oh, and at lunch, Parker did something incredible. He actually admitted to “feeling it”. I think it was a one-time thing never ever to be seen again.

In the afternoon, the Brocketts were scheduled to arrive (a day early – Mr. Brockett just couldn’t wait). Mr. Brockett was going to go to the camp, get on his bike, and bike our route backwards until he found us. However, Parker and I got a little lost once again – we just missed our turn by 2 miles or so. Some of us turned around to meet Mr. Brockett while those a little too tired to add 5 miles just kept going. Those more tired/lazy were Ellie, Angie, and I. We picked our way along Lake Ontario wistfully eyeing the apple and cherry orchards as they passed.

Now we are sitting in the beautiful Selkirk State Park, watching a beautiful sunset, digesting the Duke’s last delicious meal, and listening to some Cat Stevens. These are some of the times I am going to miss the most.

By Ellen

Macedon, NY

That was pretty long. Our rest day in Niagara Falls flew by. The day after? Not so much.

We spent the first few miles of our day looking for the Eerie Canalway, a recreational trail right alongside the canal. After some initial trouble, we found a sneaky little wooden stairwell that led right down to the edge of the canal. There, the journey began. We made our way down the steps with our bikes in hand, excited for the day. As soon as we reached the canalway, the surface troubled us. It was gravel, not exactly loose gravel, but tiny pebbles that at times made you feel as if you were riding on a beach.

We decided to cross the canal in order to reach a paved road on the other side. We encountered what Parker likes to call “off-road terrain.” Determined, we climbed through bushes and tall grass in order to reach the other side. Once we made it to the pavement, the road abruptly ended. It was quite a drag as we returned to the bridge, ready to take on the gravel.

Before long, it started raining. It was the first rain we had encountered in about two weeks. Personally, I was pretty excited to bike in the rain. I had missed the feeling you get when you’re biking in the pouring rain and people look at you on your bike like you’ve gone insane and you just think to yourself, “Yes, I am that extreme.”

The gravel canalway definitely had its obstacles. The main problem was that the canalway was dominated by animals. Not just any animals either. Very scary animals that wreak havoc on bikers. Canadian Geese. Besides the abundance of droppings they left all over the trail, these animals were very territorial, and very much dangerous. Mark and Angie learned that firsthand.

Poor Angie. He’d been riding with us for a few days now, a couple hundred miles under his belt. He was feeling good as he rode along the canal when all of a sudden, he saw Mark go down in front of him. There was no time for him to swerve and he landed right on top of Mark and his bike. We all heard the crash and stopped. As Mark picked himself up, we asked him, “What just happened?” With gravel stuck to his legs, and feathers all over his bike, he answered, “I’m pretty sure I just ran over a goose.”

The geese on this trail did not give up their land. Either they were too lazy to move out of the way, or they just wanted to give us bikers trouble. Even when they did scurry off of the trail, they would hiss at us as we rode by. I won’t forget that encounter anytime soon.

As a combination of rain, gravel, and geese slowed us down, we made it to lunch a bit late, and we left even later. It was 4:00 pm when we left our lunch spot with 40 miles left to ride in the rain. It was a drag to say the least.

Soon, Parker got a flat tire, naturally. Mark decided to stick around with me and him to make sure we didn’t mess things up too badly. In the end, he saved our lives. As the three of us rode together, miles behind the group in front, the directions got tricky, even for Mark, the map fiend.

We got lost a few times, but then just as we were rolling along, it was my turn to get a flat tire. Disappointed, we all moved quick to get it fixed. The mosquitoes however, bit us as if they hadn’t eaten in days. It was brutal. It was a complete disaster actually. I broke my CO2 canister valve for pumping up my tire, and I didn’t even have a spare tube to replace my flat one. As always though, Mark came through and got us moving before long.

As the day wore on, the sun set and it was getting later than ever. It was getting dark quick as we made it through our last few miles. The last stretch was especially memorable though. As I struggled through the last few miles, I remember gravel spraying my face from under my wheels. I remember getting some of it in my mouth and thinking how it felt like sand all in my mouth. I asked Parker, “Are you getting all this gravel in your face too?” He answered, “Um, yeah dude.”

Later, him and Mark let me in on the terrible news. It turned out the gravel was actually a hoard of gnats, and yes, I did eat a bunch of gnats. Oh man, what a day.

Niagara Falls, NY (Rest Day)

The generosity of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church to the SPS Cyclists has been abundant throughout our two-day stay in Niagara. In addition to our lovely dinner last night, the parishioners planned out an action-packed day for us. All of the activities we participated in were donated to the Church by local companies who heard of our cause and wanted us to have a memorable day in Niagara Falls. And it truly was.

After enjoying a wonderful sleep-in, we woke up to find out that we had made the cover story for the Niagara Gazette, complete with multiple pictures and a lengthy summary of our journey. We ate a huge breakfast, washed up, packed some lunch bags, and were driven down to the Falls by parishioner Dave Mallam. Dave served as our guide for our trip on the “Maid of the Mist”, the legendary boat that gives tours of the Falls to the average tourist. Armed with our plastic ponchos, we boarded the vessel that took us to the very bottom of this international attraction.

It was utterly breathtaking. The 100,000 cubic tons of water that run down the falls per second were a sight to behold. The spray from the water hitting the strait below rose fifty feet in the air, and drenched the passengers on board. The boat swayed back and forth, trying to go against the current and keep us close to the bottom of the Falls. All the while we stared up in wonder at the raw beauty and power of this natural wonder of the world.

We returned to land and ate our picnic lunch of ham sandwiches, fresh blueberries, and ice cream from the Prospect Point Café. After that, the group split two ways: one group decided to try out the new Snow Park, an all year round snow hill where you could sled on huge tubes. The other group decided to go back and rest at the Church. An hour later, we all met up at St. Peter’s, and saw SPS student and Niagara local Katie Martell. We had a great time catching up on how each of our summer’s had been, and discussing our anticipation for the upcoming school year. Katie was also a greeter at Niagara Falls, so she was a treasure trove of information on the Falls. Too soon though, we had to go to dinner and Katie had to leave. Once we parted ways, we headed to the Como Restaurant, the eighty-two-year-old Italian restaurant in town. We had a great dinner there, half of which was paid for by the restaurant, and left with our stomachs full and our spirits rejuvenated. The team ended the day by heading back to the church, and nostalgically looking back at past pictures of our trip that Mark Richardson had taken. We relived all of the Midwest again, from Randy’s Restaurant Plentywood, Montana, to the fireworks display in Stillwater, Minnesota. And it was great. We looked back on our laughs, our challenges, the incredible people we’ve met on our trip, and the beautiful country that we’ve been going through for the past five weeks. Seeing those photos made me realize something.

This trip really has been fantastic. It’s been a rollercoaster ride of adventures and experiences, some which we will remember for a lifetime. But I couldn’t be happier to have shared these memories with any other group of kids. I don’t know how, but we really hit upon a gold mine when it comes to people on this trip. Everyone brings different things to the table so, but they all help to strengthen us as a whole. Working towards a goal so closely with the same people can be tough sometimes, but I think that as a result we have all been profoundly changed. Gone are the teenagers that set out on this trip to see America; they’ve been replaced by young men and women who work as individuals and a cohesive unit to bring out the best in each other.

We’ve got a little over a week left. We’ll see you at the finish line.

Photos

Some shots of us that my dad took-- us on the "Maid of the Mist" ferry, getting up close and personal with Niagra Falls; us waiting to go through customs into New York; and our two proudest posessions: newspaper covers!

Niagara Falls, NY

By Gwen:

Six am yet again, and for some reason it is getting colder and colder, but because we were riding to our rest day getting up seemed a little bit easier. The boost really helped the boys this morning because for the first time throughout the entire trip they got their tent down before the girls! We attribute their speed to Angie (Ellie’s little brother) joining their crew. We never thought the day would come.
The morning was beautiful, as we were perched right above Lake Erie for the first twenty miles. Only three cars passed us during the first bit, but unfortunately there was quite a funky smell, and hoards of gnats. You could see them coming for a good minute before you hit them.
Today was really the first day that we stayed in developed areas for almost the entire ride. There were homes throughout the entire route, some of which provided entertainment (I’ll get to that later). Unfortunately the beautiful ride was overshadowed by the excitement of getting to Niagara this afternoon, but of course there were some exciting events on the road.
1. Sarah ran over Parker (everyone is okay). We were in our final twenty-mile stretch, and distracted by the beautiful Niagara river following us on the right. Parker’s bike slips out from under him as he is cycling at a high speed around a sharp corner with another stranger cyclist heading towards us in the middle of the bike path. As he fell, his body provided a barrier for Sarah’s bike, which catapulted her onto the road in front of her. The other biker just continued on without a second thought, but we regained our confidence and continued onto the border.
2. The homes along the final bit of the route were quite eclectic, which provided great entertainment. There were McMansions, tiny historic homes, and even beautiful modern homes which were almost pieces of art.
Riding up towards the falls we could see this huge mist rising from them. As we got closer and closer the crowds got bigger and we could begin to actually feel the mist. Getting to that massive landmark was incredible. I don’t think I even have words to describe how I felt besides pure elation. Passing the border into New York almost felt like we had gotten to Maine.
The church was very nearby and we got there just in time for dinner with a great group of locals before we headed to the local YMCA for showers. Now we’re all sitting in the church playing "Would You Rather" provided by Mrs. Llewelyn. We’re all headed to bed soon so that we can enjoy a good ten hours of sleep before a relaxing rest day.


Written by Gwen