Day 4: Is This Seriously a Capital City?

Grimacing from sore quads and night terrors of the Sierra Mountains, our team sleep-crawled onto our bikes and rolled out of South Lake Tahoe around 9:30 this morning - much later than Moma' Claire's breakfast bell at 6:30. We took off with the expectation that today's 30-mile ride to Carson City, Nevada would be a short trek, and from our gathered topographical readings (yes, I did just say topographical in context) we surmised that the brute of it would be downhill. With Shane ahead in the Mystery Machine, the delicate view of Lake Tahoe and the surrounding mountains was soon washed away by a beautiful gift from Mother nature: 1000 more feet of climbing spread out over 10 miles. Pushing ourselves to scale the mountain after nearly 12 hours of climbing yesterday, the only thing ameliorating the inclines was our newly purchased "Butt Cream." Add that one to the shopping list. Seriously...

Anyway, as the story goes, the indomitable Zane was the first to claw his way up the mountain, and, surrounded by unadulterated evergreens on either side, our group pulled it together and made the climb. As amends for her punishments, Lady Luck graciously gave us downhill, no-pedal riding for the last 15 miles to Carson City. Leading the charge down the Nevada side of the Sierras was Sanford with a group all time high of 44mph. However, knowing Jason and Zane's competitive nature, someone will be injured in the near future trying to break that record, and we can only hope that Shane's Indian genes will kick in to action to aid them in a quick recovery. Jai Ho!

For those of you who have been to Carson City, which I pray is very few of you, why did you come here? This bustling capital city is home to an overpopulated 50,000 people and its virtuous, historic, capital building is a few blocks down from "Casino Fandango." Seriously Carson City? Seriously? Casino Fandango? In disbelief, our group set off to find lunch and a place to stay for the night. The New Yorker managed to use his street sense and bartering skills to get us a discounted hotel room, but the Man of the Match was given to the small (not in stature) businessman from rural Toledo, Ohio who convinced the lovely staff at The Firkin & Fox Pub to give the entire team a free meal. No alcoholic drinks we're served.

After lunch our group collapsed on top of each other and took naps in the van and on our hotel beds. The day ended with a clutch purchase of a massager at Costco (from Shane to Mom: Ok, I know it is a ridiculous purchase for the credit card, but at least I was being cost effective) and a team dinner at "The Naked Fish," a sushi restaurant in South Lake Tahoe. It is rumored that Claire Fisher purchased a "Naked Fish" sweatshirt, but there has been no confirmation on that as of yet.
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Day 3: US Route 50

Before beginning today's blog, we would like to first thank Marty Clevenger who wasn't mentioned in last night's post. Marty offered us invaluable advice on planning today's route and provided us with much needed supplies. Additionally, Al Snowdon, another friend of the Garton family, helped us find a place to stay for our night in South Lake Tahoe, and after warm showers and cozying up into our own beds we must say that we are forever grateful. Thanks!

And on to our story...

We set off this morning from the Garton household trying to think of excuses to just turn around: We were unconditionally treated like family for a night, and saying goodbye so soon made Shane reminisce on his hundreds of past relationship failures. As we left Folsom Lake, our first major stretch of biking took us bobble heading up and down Green Valley Road, parallel to US 50. A scenic and yet extremely challenge ride, Green Valley provided our rested legs with a much-needed warmup.

A challenging, yet doable climb, Green Valley Road eventually led us to the historic Pony Express Trail. With Buffalo Bill on our minds, we trekked along, sans mail bags, down the path. Pony Express was perhaps the last true fun of the day, as we were forced to carrying our bikes uphill to Route 50 and prepare, 40 miles into the day, for the toughest portion of the ride we have yet encountered. In preparation for the climb, we stopped at a rest stop along 50 for lunch and advice.

Finally, we were ready for the 50 mile trek into South Lake Tahoe. Shane and Kirsten led the climb for the first leg, a la Tour de France, but Shane was soon distracted by the awe-inspiring scenery offer from mountain men to fill his camelback with moonshine. Jason took the yellow jersey for the rest of the day, leading the pack by 20 minutes--move over Lance! Meanwhile, Zane and Claire took the time to get to know one another as they critiqued different energy products and drinks. Eventually, the entire group reached the final peak, albeit with frozen toes and nearly useless Oakleys, unable to stop the reflective glare from the sun off of the snow. Sanford, tired of the particularly un-Texan cold at the 7000ft elevation, began to descend down the beautiful but potentially dangerous path to South Lake Tahoe.

Eventually, the group reunited at the base of the mountains at a McDonald's, where Maria the Manager was surprised by the sight of seven weary bikers using the front lawn as a bed. The team soon made its way to the house, only to find Mike relaxing comfortably after his day of rest. Overall, the team cycled 94.93 miles from Folsom to South Lake Tahoe--a fine effort indeed!


Once again, special thanks to Al, Marty, the Gartons, and a wish of good health to Mike's Uncle!

Good night moon.

Day 2: Margarita Shots and Cornhole

Waking up to the tantalizing shrieks of a crow outside our tent may have been the best way to put our trip in perspective: After twelve hours of biking and a seemingly impossible 100 miles completed, we still had 4347 to go.

So with heavy hearts and the thoughts of a warm breakfast cooked by mom on our minds, we saddled up and began our day’s journey to Folsom, California (45 miles away from camp). The route took us through downtown Sacramento and we crossed the Tower Bridge, taking a nice group photo while waiting for the drawbridge to fall. After enjoying a great view of the palace of efficiency that is the Capitol Building of California, we made a left turn on Front Street, passed through Old Sacramento, and found ourselves on the scenic American River Bike Path that would prove to be our home for the next 30 miles.

Following the river up through Lake Natoma, we found ourselves cruising along winding pathways and gazing into the natural American beauty that Jason only dreamed about from his bedroom window in Manhattan. The trail picked us up in Sacramento, teased us alongside happy-go-lucky teenagers rafting down the river, and spit us out just 3 miles from our day's rest stop at the Garton residence.

From 3:00pm until 6:30am, Michael & Donna Garton gave us a home -- not just a shelter, but a family. From the minute they met our team of seven strangers, we were embraced with food, our own beds, and the warm hug of a loving mother. Mr. Garton went as far as to call a friend at Bicycles Plus where we received friendly, all-encompassing service on our bruised egos and beat up bikes. Going again above and beyond, Mrs. Garton cooked the perfect dinner with enough food to outlast even Zane's appetite. Cornhole (a backyard bean bag tossing game of sorts) is the family sport of the Garton's, and even after a day of gratitude, the two Midwestern riders, Kristen and Shane, felt no shame in showing the Californian's how to really play the game. A night of laughs quickly wound down to birthday pie for Kristen (yes, we checked her birth certificate to make sure she was actually 22), magic tricks by Mike, and the dismay of the gathered family and friends in realizing that the "Margarita Shots" we packed we're simply Clif Energy Gummies and had a Tequilla content of 0%.

"We brought you into this home and love helping you all along your journey because we believe in what you are doing." As the day started with perspectives, the day ended the same. We we're just two days into our excursion, but somehow we had already taken a snapshot of the pure, innate love and beauty that resounds through this land and the citizens that call it home.

Day 1: The Garden of Eden

100 miles down...4347 to go...


Travel:What a day! After dipping our tires into the Pacific Ocean, the seven of us tore off along the Pacific Coastline for an unpredictably eventful day. With family watching and Romy fretting, we biked along the scenic coast under overcast skies for a a few hours, attempted to follow scribbled directions provided to us by the ever-selfless Austin Keeley. When it became apparent that the directions were faulty (not to mention illegible) our team moved to a more modern innovation for navigational support: the iPhone. Despite an unlucky first hour that included four punctured tires (known as tubes) and a few wrong turns, the 2010 FACE AIDS Bike Team fought their way to the outskirts of downtown San Francisco by 12:00PM, and rode as fast as they could to Pier 41 to board the 12:45 ferry that would take them to Vallejo.

In the rush, however, our energetic team was accidentally split into three groups, one of four riders, a pair, and a lone wolf, all attempting to make the departure time. Granting new meaning to the seemingly archaic "trolley dodger" description from the Brooklyn of yore, Shane, Claire, Sanford, and Jason led the charge down Mission Street. Meanwhile, Kirsten and Mike chose to take a more scenic route of San Francisco, touring the city that our Stanford representatives have become familiar with in the past year. On his own was the indomitable Zane, who blazed his own path to the ferry via alleyways and rooftops. In the end, our heroes made it to the ferry with moments to spare, all reuniting on the gangway. Zane volunteered to be the afternoon's driver and he sped off in our white van known as the Mystery Machine.

After a relaxing ferry ride, we chose to bike 20 miles to Fairfield before breaking for lunch. With cows roadside and an awe-inspiring landscape to distract team navigators, we took a somewhat circuitous route to lunch, stopping on W. Texas road in Fairfield and chatting with extremely friendly locals enjoying cool refreshments. During lunch our adventurers ambitiously decided to bike all the way to their campsite in West Sacramento, a journey of 75 miles in the afternoon. Watching Zane drive away from the lunch break in the van was both sombering and exciting as we clipped in (or tried to) for the long journey ahead.

While extremely difficult and long, the afternoon ride proved to be the most rewarding of the day. Filled with intellectual discussion with the law enforcement and long, flat roads through the scenic California countryside, our team was able to take in the breathtaking beauty of the state Woody Guthrie dubbed the "Garden of Eden." Finally, with tired quads and without water, our team arrived at its campsite outside of Sacramento to the pleasing view of Zane preparing a burger dinner only fit for the likes of our Face Aids Team leader Dave Evans.

"Wait... we leave tomorrow?"

At 6:45 tomorrow morning the seven of us will depart the breathtaking country club known as Stanford University and embark on our 67 day quest across the country. To be honest, we are a bit nervous and had to scramble to try to finish up the final preparations, but the car is loaded, the gas tank is full, and tomorrow our childlike excitement will force out any last jitters.

The blog will be inundated with pictures and videos to check up on over the next couple days so keep a look out!

Tomorrow is starting now....

One Last Week in Pictures

Gathering with friends and family in New York City.

Posing with the crest of my high school, St. John's, just after a presentation.

As we rode into Boston, a rainbow appeared over the city.

We gave a presentation about our ride at Partners in Health the morning after we reached Boston. Here we are with Sam Ender (left) of PIH and Julie Veroff, the new Executive Director of Face AIDS.

As we sat in Dave's parents' hotel room before dinner, I watched the sun set over Boston. The ride had to end and this is the image I will hold in my head when I think of its completion.

The Ride Comes to a Close- Final Entry

Endings can be such strange things. The planning and preparation that go into large events can so dominate one's time that to come to a point where all those preparations have come to realization and are no longer needed can leave a whirlwind of confusion, a sense of lost orientation.

That's sort of how the last week of the ride felt. From DC we rode a Herculean 187-miles to Philadelphia in a single day. There we rested with our good friend Michal Trope and her family. Two days later we pushed onto New York City where friends and Dave's family greeted us with open arms. Another rest day was taken there before moving onto Fairfield, CT, then Worcester, MA, and ultimately Boston.

Then that was it. It's over. As we biked along the Charles River Bike Path into the city of Boston, I couldn't help but feel home. Yet this sense of home was heightened by the last two months. Somehow I felt I knew the city, and myself, better than I had before, and that in some way it was due to each and every person we met and every place that we saw.

We celebrated our accomplishment, but inside I mourned the end of the ride. I woke on on August 14 with a pit in my stomach. The previous two months I had held a purpose: to ride and to talk and AIDS. What was I to do that Thursday morning but sit in my bed and reminisce about the greatest summer months of my life? Where could the sky ever be as clear as it was in Nevada? Where would the air ever be as fresh as in Colorado? What had driven me 4,500 miles across a continent on two wheels and some carbon fiber? And most importantly, where could I find that purpose again? I put on my clothes, hopped into my car, and headed back into Boston to try and find the answer.

That day we had a meeting with some of the workers at Partners in Health. Greeting us was also Julie Veroff, the new Executive Director of Face AIDS. After giving a brief overview of our program, Julie turned the floor over to Dave and me who spoke about the birth of the ride, what we felt we had done well (and poorly), and where to go from here. We left with new ideas, but still with the desperate loneliness that accompanies a loss that cannot be regained.

It's now been over three weeks since we rolled into the streets of Boston. Dave, Lauren, and I parted ways to spend time at our homes. A week ago I hopped on an airplane and found myself back in sunny California ready for RA training. Stanford looks different. Campus is always evolving as the university learns what works and what can be trimmed away. Staples remain, however. Roble, my freshman residence and now current place of work, looms large on West campus. Ford Center, the site of so many hours of hard work, grows dusty as the ergs wait in a corner for the day two weeks down the road when another class of Stanford oarsmen will sit down to battle their innermost demons. The Quad lurks like a sleeping giant, ready to be awakened by 6,000 eager young students. It's all still here. I already feel myself slipping into routine.

I suppose it is appropriate that the two posters I bought along the trip refuse to stay on the wall. They are perverted interpretations of divine memories that remain firmly lodged in my mind's eye. How can I take the lessons I learned this summer and bring them back with me to school? Can I avoid the fall into routine that so often encourages apathy? Where can I make a difference now that so many people have made a difference to me this summer?

The moon is shining through my window. And though the night is dark, I know that its soft light comes from the sun. And in the morning the sun will return; bright and proud and ready to shine on and fight all the problems of the day away. I hope that my ambitions to continue the fight against AIDS remain just as devout. The moon reminds us of the sun. So too I hope this period of calm reminds me of my purpose. Sometimes the end is just the beginning.