For those of you out there who followed me and my journey, living vicariously through my adventures, let me apologize for this long over due conclusion. These past weeks have been a whirlwind, and caused me to leave you with a cliff hanger. But no more waiting and wondering, here it is, the final chapter in One Man, One Bike, One Fight. I hope you've all enjoyed my story, I know I have. 

Leaving Fort Bragg was one of the most exciting points of my entire ride. I was so warmly welcomed and hosted by the Rotarians there that I felt totally rejuvenated. This refreshment of my body and mind was amplified by the natural beauty of the Northern California coastline along with the fact that I was only three days outside of San Francisco.  However, my renewed spirit and close proximity to my final destination did not mean the road ahead would be easy.  Highway 1 may be beautiful, but it is also very intense, especially on a bicycle. There is little to no shoulder on the road, and in places only a few feet before a cliff's edge. It winds around like a snake with fast descents and extremely steep climbs right back up to those coastal cliffs. As I found with most of my favorite places in America, the most beautiful areas are also the most difficult to traverse. I chose to split the final leg after Fort Bragg into three very manageable days in order to enjoy my last days. I also wanted the final day to only be a half day when rolling into San Fran over the Golden Gate bridge so I wouldn't be totally wiped out and unable to enjoy the completion of this epic journey. I cycled 66 miles before reaching Salt Point State Park where I planned to camp for the night.  When I reached the "hiker/biker" campsite I found myself in the company of another touring cyclist. His name was Mike, he was in his early 30's and was on his last days of a 3,500 mile tour that started in San Francisco taking him on a loop up to Glacier National Park in Montana and back. We got along very well, and shared stories around the picnic table.

The next day he left about half an hour before I did, but by lunch time I had caught up with him and we realized that we pedaled at a similar pace.  We stopped in Bodega Bay at a nice waterfront restaurant for lunch and drank a local beer. I had kept myself from drinking any alcohol while being on the bike simply for dehydration reasons, but with only two days left and a new friend to cycle with a single beer just seemed right. Mike had done four tours in as many years from San Francisco up Hwy 1 and knew the best places to stop, which was very beneficial to me.  He knew the best place to camp about 35 miles outside of SF in Samuel P. Taylor State Park, and the only place to stop for supplies. We would have to backtrack about six miles the next morning back to Hwy 1, but it was totally worth it. Our campsite was a circular space enclosed by five huge redwood trees, and the whole park was gorgeous. That night I didn't get much sleep. I tossed and turned like an eight year old anticipating Christmas morning's presents. For me, the next day was one of the greatest days of my life.

Saturday September 19th, 2009.  That morning as we packed up and hit the road Mike laughed at me and how excited I was. Even though it was only 35 miles, it was a day with several difficult sections. Just before Sausalito was a long, very steep climb that was final hurdle in the home stretch. The whole morning was an absolutely gorgeous day, and as we approached Sausalito we could see a huge bank of fog rolling in over the hill ahead of us. By the time we came around the final hill, and the Golden Gate Bridge was in view the fog had completely enveloped it. I was slightly disappointed that I could only see the first fifty feet of the golden towers and suspension cables, but at the same time it was the typically perfect setting for arriving in San Francisco.  Mike and I went our separate ways at the North side of the bridge and I took my time taking pictures. Crossing over the bay and riding across the Golden Gate Bridge is an experience that I will never forget. I could never do my overwhelming feeling of accomplishment justice with these words, it was pure joy. I rode over 6,250 miles on a bicycle, dragging a trailer that weighed nearly 80 pounds. Back in April, when I had only just begun in Florida, this day seemed so far away.  Once across and into San Francisco I took the Crissy Field Trail and stopped to look back at the fog covered symbol that represented my ultimate goal. After taking a few more pictures I called my mom and dad to let them know their son had finished and they could stop worrying.  It was such an amazing view, the only foggy place was the bridge. The rest of the bay and the city was bathed in sunlight and warmth. I rode around the marina for a little while before shifting gears into my next immediate priority. I asked directions to the nearest sports bar and found a parking garage across the street where I could leave my bike and trailer. My South Carolina Gamecocks were kicking off and there was no way I was going to miss the icing on my finishing day's cake. 

The two friends from the Peace Corps that I had planned on staying with in San Francisco happened to be out of town for the weekend, so I contacted some extended family I had in the area and they came to pick me up to bring my stuff 'home'. I was extremely thankful for having them in San Fran, not only because of the great hospitality, but because I had only met their mother, who my family calls "Aunt Pat", one time when she came to South Carolina to visit my grandmother. I spent a week and a half in San Francisco and during that time I was able to meet almost a dozen cousins and other family that I never knew I actually had. I felt very lucky for this.

I spent the next day riding my bike all around the city, checking out some of the different neighborhoods of San Francisco. In the evening I caught up with one of my Peace Corps friends and got some dinner and drinks. Feeling the need to give me a crash course in some of SF's more vibrant culture, she took me dancing out into "The Castro" a.k.a. the gay district.  I am completely comfortable in my sexuality and in no way homophobic, so I smiled and went along. As we walked into a crowded night club I quickly realized that 95% of the gay community in San Francisco is under six feet tall. Me being 6'9", I stood out quite a bit, and I haven't seen that many eyes turn my direction since being in Africa.  Rachel and I had an awesome time dancing, and I got a serious boost in self esteem with all the attention.

Monday evening my other Peace Corps friend in SF, Michelle, invited me to dinner after she got done working out in the gym she is a member of in downtown.  I had only been able to work out one other time during the six months while on the bike and told her I'd meet her at the gym and see if they'd give me a trial membership. I arrived at 24 Hour Fitness which was located in the base of a high rise building downtown in the "Financial District" and locked my bike up to a rack outside. The gym was very nice and they gladly gave me a week long pass. So I went about working out and lifting weights. The weight room was on the third floor and I could actually see my bike out the window. After finishing my work out and coming out of the locker room I looked out the window and saw an empty bike rack. The bitter truth immediately sank in and a smile of pure irony came across my face.  Only two days after arriving in San Francisco and reaching my final destination 6,255 miles later my bike was stolen. I sat down in a leather chair and waited calmly for Michelle to finish up and meet me. When she came out and I told her she couldn't understand why I wasn't more upset. I told her it was more of a simple disappointment that I never got to put my front tire in the Pacific Ocean and I wouldn't get to ride around the city anymore. I was just thankful that I was able to make it to the end and that nothing happened like this before hand. Irony has always been a constant factor in my life (i.e. rear ending the chief of police in Rearden, WA) and I half expected something like that to happen. After posting the news on Facebook I found that Michelle wasn't the only person really upset by this. The MDi media group I was connected with in Mobile, AL wasn't going to let this happen with no recourse. They sent out a press release to the SF local media and within 24 hours I had been interviewed by two newspapers for their blog posts and the Channel 2 News crew came out to interview me. John Sasaki, the reporter with Channel 2, was extremely kind and interested in my story. He did a great job with the report and I was on the 5 and 10 o'clock news. This was just the beginning of the frenzy of interest that was sparked by MDi's press release.

The day after the news report I was contacted the Public Health Institute of Oakland. They said they shared the same international mission and wanted to have me stop by their offices. When I arrived I met the President & CEO and another head of the institute and did a press photo opportunity as I spoke about my mission and how they wanted to donate $500 toward my campaign. After the photo op they told me that they actually wanted to present me with an oversized check at San Francisco's City Hall and for me to meet the mayor. I pretty much giggled the whole time they told me this because it was both so unexpected as well as funny that I was going to get a giant check. A few days later I accepted the jumbo check inside the beautiful building of City Hall. Unfortunately, Mayor Gavin Newsom was unable to meet me, but his representative greeted me and presented me with the City of San Francisco's Certificate of Honor. He said this was a great honor because it usually takes weeks or months to prepare and process, but they fast-tracked it when hearing about my story.

At the end of this crazy week I attended the Concord Rotary Club meeting out across the bay. This was the old club of Lyn Kenney, my original Rotary contact in South Carolina and the woman who organized my first sponsorship dollars that made it possible to get my project on the road. After speaking to their club, I was blown away by their generosity. They had heard about the theft of my bike and they presented me with $1000 in REI gift cards to help me out with all the replacement costs. As I went to take my seat an older gentlemen at the back of the room raised his hand and said he'd like to give me $500, just like that. I simply couldn't believe everything that was happening for me. And it just kept coming!

After that first news report I was also contacted by the head of PR for 24 Hour Fitness. Apparently, their corporate office got wind of the report and saw that the camera crew had gone to the gym where my bike was stolen. They filmed the company's logo with a very unfortunate story and 24 Hour Fitness wanted to flip this into a happy ending and a good publicity opportunity for both my cause and their gym. They invited me out to their corporate offices in San Ramon to meet the CEO, Carl Leibert, and to speak with all of their employees about what I'd been doing the past few years with the Peace Corps and my Global Hunger Awareness Campaign. They invited Channel 2 News to film this, and after I finished my presentation they wheeled out a beautiful, brand new Trek road bike with a big blue bow on it. My jaw dropped immediately because I could tell that this new bicycle was about five times as nice as the bike I had ridden across America.  My touring bike was the cheapest, tallest bike I could find on the internet, was made of steel and weighed thirty plus pounds. This new Trek Madrone 5.2 was a carbon fiber frame road racing bike that weighed a fraction of the old bike, and was obviously a several thousand dollar bike. Not only this, their company and CEO could only do this on the day that I was supposed to fly home to SC, so they agreed to buy me a new flight home the next day and to ship the bike back for me. It was truly an offer I couldn't refuse.  And as if it couldn't get any better, over the past couple weeks they've been in the process of structuring an internship and job offer for me. I should be finding out more about this offer this week.

My entire experience in San Francisco (and the whole bike trip for that matter) was so unreal and amazing that it literally changed my perspective on life.  I used to be a total cynic, but between my time in the Peace Corps and my time on the bicycle I am much more of an idealist now. For the rest of my life, no matter what, I am a believer in Karma. People throughout my journey and especially after finishing have told me how proud they are of me and how proud I ought to feel. But to be honest, it's not a feeling of pride I have. I simply feel lucky, truly lucky to have had such an opportunity.  Coming back from Niger I had a blank slate. I had the opportunity and what I felt the responsibility to share my experience of living in the world's least developed country, and thanks to all the unbelievable support I received for my campaign I was able to complete a once in a life time journey and mission. To date we have raised enough money to feed over 18,000 people during an emergency or disaster relief situation. It's because of all of you out there who gave me funding support, food and shelter when I had none, and avenues to spread the message and raise awareness. I was mearly the man on the bike with some crazy stories to share. All I had to do was pedal pedal pedal. My pain and suffering on the seat of a bicycle was nothing compared to what over a billion people each year have to deal with on a day to day basis just to survive. I simply feel lucky to have had this opportunity, to see our country, to meet everyone along the way, and to try to alleviate the terrible and unnecessary plight of much of the world. There is enough food and money in the world to feed every human being on the planet three meals a day. We only need to see that it happens. I want to thank everyone who donated, everyone who followed me online and shared my campaign, everyone I met and that supported me along the way, and everyone one who does what they can to help in the smallest and largest of ways. Thank you. My bicycle journey may be complete, but One Man, One Bike, One Fight will be online, up and running for another five months. If you know of anyone who'd be inspired by my story, or if you yourself have enough money that you could share with those who have nothing, I encourage you to show them my website, and donate as much as you can. It's so easy to help. Less than five minutes could save so many lives. Again, thank you all for following me. It's been a true honor.

Sincerely,

Andrew Marinelli

As I left Portland I was pleased to find I had my first day with a tailwind since somewhere in Missouri. I made it 126 miles in good time with energy to spare, and was excited to be in Eugene, OR where my friend Katy Miller from the Peace Corp lives. My plan was to only visit with her and rest for a few days, but between South Carolina Gamecocks kicking off the college football season on ESPN on Thursday and "The Eugene Celebration" on Labor Day weekend, I decided to spend a full week.  I had three Rotary meetings set up during the week. After leaving the first meeting that was at the Hilton Hotel, I saw a tour bus in the parking lot. I introduced myself to a tattooed man standing near and asked him what the deal with the bus was. He said it was a band I'd never heard of (Band of Horses) and that he belonged to the opening band. He was impressed with what I was doing and told me he was putting my name +1 on the guest list. I told this to Katy and she was a bit more excited being a fan of that band. It turned out to be an excellent show and Katy and I had a great time. The week only got better when my Gamecocks defeated NC State in the season opener, unfortunately for all the citizens of Eugene, the University of Oregon lost in the following game. That weekend was the Labor Day holiday and I was pleasantly surprised to find that Eugene, OR loves to celebrate so much on this weekend, that they simply call it the Eugene Celebration with no mention to the actual national holiday. Basically, my time in Eugene was well spent and it was a relaxing, much needed pause before starting my last stretch down the coast to San Francisco.

From Eugene I rode out to the actual West coast to Florence, OR where I was hosted by a Rotarian and had the opportunity to not only speak to their club but actually do a live radio interview on a local station. My hosts took me up to this famous lighthouse North of Florence that sat on a cliff above an awesome cove with high rocks on both sides. This was my first walk on the Pacific beach and I was in disbelief as to the fact that I was actually standing on an Oregon beach after cycling across the US in order to actually be there.Never having seen the West coast, I was blown away by the huge rocks that jut out of the ocean. It was a beauty I had not experienced before and it reminded me of King Kong's island that was shrouded in fog.  I had been averaging over 100 miles a day from Jackson, WY to Eugene, OR and wanted to slow it down a tad on my way down coast enjoying my ride and appreciating the beauty. So, from Florence I cycled down Highway 101 to a state park about 68 miles South and camped for the night. On the way to the park I stopped in a gas station to refill water and whatnot, and as I checked out I shared my campaign and business cards with the cashiers. About five miles down the road I noticed a pick-up truck pulling off the road ahead of me with a man standing outside of it waving money in the air as I passed by. I hit the breaks and said, "Well, that's one way to get somebody to stop." Turned out he was at the gas station I was just at, spoke to the cashiers and found out about my cause. His name was Art, and he ran a grocery store in the town just beyond my next state park. He gave me the twenty he was waving, and told me to go to his store the next morning and load up on anything I needed. After setting up my camp, the park ranger actually came by and gave me back my four dollars I payed for my site telling me that Art had come by earlier and payed for me. I was yet again blown away by the kindness of strangers, and it only got better. That next morning I went to the store, met Art's store manager who proceeded to hook me up with food and drink as well as a $25 gift card for all the Ray's Food stores down the coast line. Later in that day around mile 56 out of 108 I came into Gold Beach, OR for lunch and felt cold on an extreme level. So much so that I could not stop my body from shivering quite violently. I had been in much colder climates on this trip, but something just didn't seem right. I didn't feel like pushing myself another 50 miles so I decided to get a motel and take a hot shower in order to get my core temperature back up. I was disappointed to pull up with only half a day's distance, but relieved to find myself feeling fine once I regulated my temperature. 

The next day I crossed into my last state, California. A Rotarian in Crescent City agreed to host me even though I missed their meeting. He and his family lived in an awesome house that overlooked a giant rock strewn beach and coast. It was Saturday and I was excited to be somewhere where I was able to watch my Gamecocks play again, this time against UGA, a long time early season rival. The game was supposed to be a defensive standoff, but it was anything but that. Carolina ended up losing by four, but it was a wild and entertaining game. The next day I had to make it 80+ miles down to Eureka, CA in order to attend a Rotary meeting on Monday. The first half of the day was gorgeous as it was my first day riding through the redwood forests. It rained on me the last 30 miles and only got stronger the closer I came to my goal. Four miles outside Eureka, I pulled up lame with a flat trailer tire. "Knowing" I had a spare tube in the trailer it was a mere frustration...until I looked in my spare parts bag and realized I had no such tube. Since you can't patch a tire in a downpour it quickly became clear that I had to walk my bike and trailer the last four miles into town on the side of the highway. After walking about a mile a pick-up truck with a bicycle on the back pulled onto the shoulder and offered to assist me. A local cyclist, he said he knew that anytime there's someone pushing a bike in the rain it's because they have no choice. I thankfully accepted his help, and got dropped off in Eureka. I was unable to establish contact with my Rotary liaison so I was forced to get a room at a cheap motel which was disappointing to say the least since my funds were running at a serious low. However, the next day I spoke at the meeting and was yet again amazed at the generosity of Rotarians. With a boost to my funds I was rejuvenated and ready for the last week of cycling in this long journey. I was also thankful for the hospitality shown by one of the Rotarians and his family who opened their home to me that evening and hosted me.

After Eureka, I had to go 90 miles through rough terrain to camp, then wake up super early and ride another 45 miles over more mountains in order to get to the Fort Bragg Rotary meeting by noon. That first 90 miles was beautiful through more redwood groves. I definitely had never seen trees like this before. The shear mass and girth of the trunks on these trees were indescribably impressive since it was thousands of years in the making. I was extremely disappointed when I found out the "Drive-Thru Tree" was closed when i came to it. I had been looking forward to that experience since I began planning this trip back in Niger, West Africa. I even told my villagers about I was going to ride my bicycle through a tree (they didn't believe me). In the 45 mile morning ride the next day I surpassed my original predicted distance for the trip of 6,000 miles. At this point I've gone 6,045 miles and have around 200 more to go. I was more than a little excited and proud of myself. I had to climb over two really steep mountains to get back out to the coast and down to Fort Bragg, but I made it with time to spare before the meeting. The club was very welcoming and gave me 20 minutes to talk about my campaign. The president, who owned a grocery store in town, gave me a big gift card to shop for food & supplies I'll need for the rest of my trip, while another Rotarian who owns a hotel on the beach gave me a free room for the night. He also took me on a tour of the city, to the bike shop for repairs, and to dinner. I've been treated really well in Fort Bragg and am very thankful to everyone for making it such a good experience.

Tomorrow, I begin the last three days of cycling into San Francisco. If everything goes smoothly I should be rolling over the Golden Gate Bridge and across the bay on Saturday. I want to thank everyone for following me on this amazing life experience, and reading along. If you've joined me in this fight against global hunger then I thank you for your support and I thank you on behalf of all the voiceless masses who are living in malnurishment around the developing world. If you haven't, I want to encourage you, again, to visit my donate page. See how little it takes and how easy it is to make a substantial difference. And to donate whatever you can toward those who are in great need of assistance. Thank you again, and the next time I write I'll have reached the end of my cycling journey that has taken me all over the country over the past six months. I can barely believe it.

As I left Spokane, I quickly realized it was not going to be a fun day. Whether it's a wheat field or an expanse of desert wasteland, Eastern and central Washington are barren of trees and therefore quite windy. All day long I had to fight a steady 20 to 30 mph headwind. Because of the wind and the constant up hill grade of the state, I had my head down the majority of the time looking just ahead of my front tire. After only about 25 miles I glanced up and saw that I was coming into a tiny town. I looked back down and began pushing the "mode" button on my new bike computer to find out what time it was. Then next thing I knew I was smashing into the back quarter panel of a silver car that was parked on the shoulder of the highway and went crashing to the ground out in the traffic lane. Luckily the huge dump truck that had been approaching quickly saw all this happen and hit the brakes before turning me into a grease spot on the road. As I am cursing myself and getting up off the ground, I see the word "Police" written down the side of the the car. I simply couldn't believe what I'd done, and how I didn't see the shiny silver brand new Dodge Charger parked on the side of the road ahead of me. So, the officer stepped out of his car and couldn't believe how dumb I was either. Turns out, in the tiny city of Rearden, WA I rear-ended  the chief of police. How's that for irony. Well, the chief was able to punch out the dented quarter panel from inside the trunk, and said that he could probably buff out all the scratches on his bumper, but he still took my information, called another cop to see the damage, took pictures and told me he'd still have to turn it into their body shop. I haven't heard anything from him for a couple weeks, so I'm hoping I'm in the clear. My only question is, how long do I wait before I contact him and ask for the damage photos so that I can post them on my website?

After the accident I continued on and made it only to Wilbur, WA where I got a cheap motel room and cleaned up by bruised and scraped body. The next day, I set out to make it into the Cascades. For about 90 miles it was all desert and canyons, even Niger had more trees than there. Then, as I had big decent into a winding canyon, I popped out next to a big river at the base of the mountains where there were endless orchards of fruit trees and every half mile there were huge fresh produce markets and stands. I felt like I stumbled upon the Garden of Eden. This was the area just North of Wenatchi, WA. I made it 111 miles to Cashmere where I decided to grab another motel room. I was burning through my funds but needed some good rest and didn't feel like finding a suitable camp site.

Going on the advice of some of the locals I changed my route from highway 2 through the cascades, which was said to be quite dangerous, to taking highway 92 down to Interstate-90 and follow that all the way into Seattle. I had to go over a pretty long climb up to Blewitt Pass in order to get to I-90, but I had lost the ability to shift into my easiest gear when I wrecked into the cop car. My derailer was bent and would knock into my wheel spokes, therefore I had to climb in a lower gear making it much more difficult. Once over the top of the pass, I was looking forward to the decent where I could rest a little. Unfortunately, Mother Nature never likes to play fair or make things easy, so I was greeted by a strong up draft of wind coming up the mountains making me actually have to work to go downhill. When I finally made it to the bottom of the mountains and into a valley basin the wind had only gotten stronger and was blowing from every direction but behind me. I was tossed left and right and couldn't go faster than ten mph. It was 54 miles before I got to a town where I could have lunch and I was about to cry when I got to Cle Elum because of how hard the wind was making my day. But I ate a good meal, took a little time to recover, then went back out for the rest of the afternoon. I had to stop for the day at the top of another smaller pass, because the sun was going down and it had started to rain up in the mountains. Since I didn't want to set up camp in the rain, I once again tapped into the funds and got a room.

The next day I was very excited because I only had 54 miles to go until Seattle and there I could relax and rest with a couple of my friends from the Peace Corps. I saddled up and didn't stop until I got there. Rolling into town was a great feeling. I had cycled almost 5,200 miles at that point from the Southernmost point in the US all the way up to the Northwest corner of the country. Seattle was the turning point to the home stretch of my journey. I spent a little over a week visiting with Danielle Sewell and Lulu McCourt. Lulu took me up to the San Juan Islands across the Puget Sound and to this very beautiful place called Deception Pass. It's a gorgeous water way that is very dangerous to maneuver with high rock cliffs on both sides. We visited this state park where they had tide pool estuaries and trails that went up to the cliffs of the bluffs. On the way back, we took a big ferry across the Sound, which was a first for me. Later in the week, Lulu also took me canoing in Lake Washington in Seattle. I visited two Rotary clubs while I was in town too. During my time in Seattle, I was able to meet a bunch of my friends' friends and see a lot of the city. Down in Pike Place Market there were street musicians, magicians, jugglers, and artists. I went to the famous fish market where they throw the salmon to you from twenty feet away, that was pretty entertaining. The one thing I didn't do that I'll have to go back for was going up into the Space Needle. I took pictures from below it on my bike, but never made it inside. Over all, I truly enjoyed my time there and am very appreciative to all my friends who helped make my visit memorable. I really needed the smiles and good recovery time after the difficult journey across the state, and it definitely helped improve my opinion of Washington.

When I left Seattle, I took one of the big ferries across the Sound and went down the Olympic Peninsula to the capital, Olympia. I arrived just in time for a five o'clock Rotary meeting and met some very nice people. One lady in particular was the president of a different club in Olympia that met at noon and I missed it. She actually had a flier printed up about my cause with info and pictures from my website and she passed them out at their meeting, took up a collection, and was able to raise over $150 for the campaign and I never even came to the meeting. And the president of the evening meeting club was so supportive he had gotten me a room at a hotel downtown and took me out to a delicious seafood dinner. Needless to say, I was impressed with the Rotarians in Olympia, WA.

I decided to take Interstate-5 South from Olympia 111 miles to Portland, Oregon. Typically, the interstate is a safer option than state highways. There is a wide shoulder and usually a rumble strip that is standard next to the white line letting cars know they are drifting. The only real draw back is all the debris from truck tires you have to dodge. Unfortunately, for me, I-5 had several areas of construction with no shoulder and some big bridges too that required me to ride actually in the interstate lane. Last Wednesday was in the top 3 most dangerous days on this trip, for sure. But I had my guardian angles looking over me, and I made it to Portland safe and sound. I actually got flat tire on my back wheel right at the exit I was taking into town and found over a dozen pieces of metal and glass stuck in my tire. So I pulled out all the trash, and replaced the tube. My good friend from the Peace Corps, Ben Grace who I visited in Florida back in April, is from Portland and he connected me with his dad, who agreed to host me for a few days. I've spent the past couple days checking out the city, trying different restaurants and met a couple of Ben's old friends. Portland has a lot of character and I'd love to come back sometime when Ben is actually here, so he can show me all the good spots only locals know about. His dad showed me a couple in their neighborhood, including an old Coney Island hot dog place, and the Baghdad Theater that's been around since the early 1930's.

Tomorrow, I head South 123 miles to Eugene, OR where I'll get to visit Katy Miller, another good friend from my team in Niger. I plan to spend a couple days hanging out with her before jumping out to highway 101 and riding down the West coast to sweet San Francisco. I can't believe I'm almost there.

Checking out of the Wingate Hotel in Helena and getting back on the road was tough. Michelle Steele, the general manager Rotarian, hooked me up with a nice king size bedroom and I was truly appreciative for the recovery time.  The first twenty miles were pretty tough that day. I had to climb over 2,200 feet going uphill for seven miles. Once I crested that pass, the rest of the day went really well. After about forty miles I came to Interstate-90, which I wasn't to sure about since I was going to be riding along it all the way until Spokane, WA. I feel more safe on an interstate because the shoulder is almost always wide and there is a rumble-strip standard on the edge of the right lane letting cars know they're drifting too far over. The only thing that is a major hazard is all the debris from the re-tread tires that rip off of 18-wheelers. All of my flat tires on this trip have come from the steel wire belts inside all the little pieces of tire that exist on the side of the road, and the amount of this debris is multiplied drastically on the freeway.

I don't know how I made it all the way to Missoula without getting one flat tire, but I did. Once on I-90 I was able to maintain a fairly strong pedal stroke, and high speed. I felt like I might have been pushing myself a little too hard, and not saving enough for the next long day, but once you get some good momentum going there's not a lot that will make you want to slow down or lose it. So, I pressed ahead at full steam. When I arrived at Becky Weaver, sister of Rotarian Wendy Weaver I met in Bozeman, I had gone around 120 miles, and felt great most of the way. She was very nice, a returned Peace Corps volunteer from Mali, and had a cute little adopted Chinese one-year-old. While taking a shower, the exhaustion caught up with me and hit me like a ton of bricks. I ordered a pizza, shared Peace Corps stories with Becky for a while, did a little laundry, and passed out. I wanted to get a early start the next day cause I was planning on making it another 114 miles into Idaho and had a nice pass to climb around mile 100.

The next morning I woke up stiff and slow. Soon after waking, I went to get my laundry only to find that I had washed my bicycle computer the night before, completely ruining it. I was not happy about this. So, I looked online for the closest bicycle shop, but of course none of them opened until around ten o'clock, killing my hope of getting an early start. I cycled out toward the interstate where the REI was located, and stopped for some breakfast until it opened. The new computer put a nice dent in my always very limited budget, but the guy working there was very helpful fixing the settings and installed it onto my bike. I didn't actually get out onto the road until 11:40 and knew that it was going to be a really rough day the way it had started. Within the first fifty miles I had two flat trailer tires from all the debris on the road, making up for the day before's good luck. My legs felt completely stiff and powerless, an I didn't even get to the town where I wanted to have lunch until around 3:30 or 4:00. Most of the day I was feeling quite sorry for myself because not only was I having terrible luck with the bike and feeling tired, but the day before when I was feeling great I had bragged to myself that only twice on this whole trip did I not make it to my planned destination for each day, no matter how far. So, with all the hiccups in this day and how I was feeling, I knew I wasn't going to make it all the way to Idaho and certainly not over any mountain pass at the hundred mile mark. All along the freeway that day there were billboards for this big tourist attraction that Becky had mentioned to me the night before. It was a truck stop, restaurant, gift shop, motel that boasted a world famous collection of silver dollars, over 50,000. It was at mile marker 16. The pass straddled the Idaho/Montana border so I knew that at 16 miles away I'd still be doing an 87 mile day and be close enough to Spokane to still be able to do it in one day. This gave me a little morale boost, and something to shoot for. When I got there at 8:00 pm, there was no town or anything, just this truck stop, restaurant, gift shop, and motel. Being quite weary, I knew I needed some good rest, so I took another big hit to my budget by staying at the motel. I was lucky in that there was only one room left, so I knew that I should take it. The food was good at the restaurant, the gift shop reminded me of those in Myrtle Beach, SC (full of junk and not impressive), but the silver dollar collection was not falsely advertised. They had over 53,000 silver dollars, chronologically organized in panels, all over the bar walls. After eating, I headed over to the truck-stop gas station to pick up some candy and a popsicle (I needed comfort food after my tough day), then I passed out.

Last Saturday, August 8th, I woke up, packed up, ate some breakfast, and hit the road. With only 16 miles and a mountain pass between me and completing Montana. At the top of the pass I was surprised to find out I was not only crossing into Idaho, but the Pacific Time Zone. I thought that started somewhere in Washington, but this was also a nice milestone in my trip, though it does make it more difficult to communicate with family and friends back on the East coast. The day was cold and misty keeping me damp and shivering. I found a really nice bike path that ran parallel to the interstate most of the way across Idaho (the skinny "pan handle" part) and followed that all the way to Kellogg, ID where I ate lunch. From Kellogg, I had to get back onto the freeway because the path dipped South around another pass and some lakes, and this would add another twenty miles to an already 110 mile day. I eventually made it to the Washington border and only had twenty more miles to go. This day, I wasn't having flat tire issues, but my left trailer tire was constantly wanting to slip out of it's axel and come off. Obviously, not the safest problem to have while riding down an interstate. This made me keep having to stop and re-lock the wheel, slowing my progress down quite a bit. I eventually made it to Spokane, and at mile 106 found myself having to climb an enormous and steep hill to reach the South side of town where I was going to be staying. I conquered the hill, made it to within a quarter mile of my host's house, and decided to stop for one last Vitamin Water to rehydrate before greeting everyone. As I pull away from the gas station I hear a big pop, and just my luck, my right trailer tire has a complete blow out. So, I sit down, change the tire and install one of the super thick inner tubes I picked up in Kellogg to fight against the debris. It's at this point I feel I should remind you, one of the main lessons I learned in the Peace Corps (mostly from riding in bush taxis) was the necessity for unending patience. Without it, I'm sure I would have destroyed my bike and trailer in a blind rage long ago on this trip. Fortunately, I have it. I fixed my wheel, and made it to my host family's house just before dark.

I met Katrina Godderz at the missionary hospital in Galmi, my market town, in Niger. She is currently in medical school in Grenada, but her family lives in Spokane and they have been so very sweet and hospitable opening their home to me, feeding me, and showing me around the city. On Sunday, we drove out to this place called Green Bluff just outside of town where there was an estate/winery that had an amazing view of all of Spokane (of course I forgot my camera this day). Then we headed to this beautiful little vineyard owned by an Italian man and his wife who also run a catering and Italian food business from a big barn, converted into a kitchen. We spoke with the couple for a while, and it really made me remember my dream of one day moving to Italy. We left with two big boxes of lasagna, meatballs&sauce, pasta salad and bread. We got back to the Godderz house with a feast.  Though I must say, I still prefer my mom's lasagna. You make a freakin' amazing lasagna, mom. That night Katrina's sister, Annika, and I went to see G.I. Joe. Laughing most of the time at the ridiculousness of the movie, it made for a good ending to a really nice day. Today, I rode over to the bike shop to fix that back wheel and keep it from wanting to fall off, as well as swung by the bank. Spokane is the first place I've seen a Bank of America since Kansas City. Most of the day I relaxed in front of the tv or the computer returning emails. Then when Mrs. Godderz got home from work, I went with her to they gym and got a nice work out in. I haven't been to a gym since Florida, and I've really missed that type of work out. Sure, riding a bicycle over a hundred miles every day will give you some strong legs and low body mass, but it's just not the same as a good, hard training session with weights, stations, and equipment. I am almost positive I'm going to wake up tomorrow completely sore and regretting ever walking into that gym. I can't wait to hop on that bike and hear myself go, "Oh! Ugh! Sssss..."

Tomorrow is Tuesday, August 11th and I will be cycling around 96 miles to a little town in central Washington called Coulee City. Hopefully I can find a place to camp, and then go around 87 miles on Wednesday to another little town called Leavensworth right on the edge of the Cascade mountains. I will probably try to work a deal with a cheap motel there seeing as how Thursday will be a very long, arduous day around 118 miles and crossing the whole of the Cascades in order to reach Seattle. I have two friends from the Peace Corps living there, I plan on spending a week or so checking out the city, giving talks, and relaxing, and Seattle is the starting point of my final leg of this journey. From there I turn South and head toward the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, and sweet sweet victory over one of the toughest personal challenges I've ever undergone. I have currently completed 4,840 miles on my bicycle and I'm starting to get excited about closing in on the finish line. Pretty soon I'll be under a thousand miles till the end. I can barely believe it myself.

The day after arriving in Bozeman was July 31st, a Friday. I got up extra early, despite my still weary body wishing to sleep, and made it to the Sunrise Rotary Club of Bozeman meeting which started at 6:45 am. The long days before, the sore body, and the early start were all worth it. They had a great breakfast served, and everyone was very welcoming. Then Mr. Richard Kiel came rolling into the meeting room. In case you missed the last blog, Richard Kiel is the actor who played Jaws in the old James Bond movies as well as (a personal favorite) Mr. Larson, Adam Sandler's boss with the nail sticking out of his head in Happy Gilmore. He had an overactive pituitary gland as a kid and is a legitimate "giant." At 6'9" I am taller than the average man for sure, but Kiel is a bit larger, 7'2" larger. His hands were so much bigger than my own, and I got a real kick out of meeting him and getting him to sign one of his screen shots from Happy Gilmore. At the end of the meeting he came over to me and talked to me for a moment about bicycling, and at the end I told him how I still quote his movies with my friends. He smiled and pointed his big finger at me and said, "And you can wait, on me, waiting for you in the parking lot!" (One of his quotes from Happy Gilmore said to Shooter McGavin) I laughed out loud at that one.  Due to some nerve damage in his hips he gets around by a little scooter cart but it didn't keep him from still making me look like a child next to him. Check for the pictures I post. The meeting went really well, and the club gave generously to help me. At the meeting I was invited to an open-house brunch at one of the Rotarian's realty offices with more food involved. Obviously I went to that, and had my fill, as well as met a bunch more people and saw Richard sign more autographs. At the meeting I was also invited to a fundraiser that the Rotary Club had organized for Saturday evening, a James Bond themed glow-in-the-dark night golf tournament at the country club, complete with a full dinner, free beer, and glow-in-the-dark golf balls. How could I say no to that? The rest of Friday I spent catching up on sleep and going to dinner and drinks with Khoi.

Saturday I spent most of the day relaxing. Khoi and I walked down to Pickle Barrel sandwich shop close by, and he failed to tell me that they sell gargantuan sandwiches. So when I ordered a whole, and they handed me a five-pound brown paper bag I was pretty surprised. Even with my endless appetite I was only able to eat half and take the other half home to the fridge. Around four o'clock in the afternoon my Rotary contact, Mike, came and scooped me up and we first went to the local Chevy dealership where Richard was doing a photo-op and the owner of the dealership (who happens to own one of the largest personal collections of Corvettes in America) had his rare 1953 on display. There were several really nice Corvettes, a heavily worked on El Camino, and a few other quality vehicles to stare at while we waited for Richard to wrap things up. From the dealership we ran by Mikes house to grab his tuxedo, the went to the country club to make sure everything was set up for the fundraiser. I spent the next few hours helping out around the club house, talking to Rotarians and guests, and drinking the free beer. Dinner was delicious, I ate lots, and Richard spoke for about ten minutes about his experience as Jaws. He also judged the best Bond, best Bond-villain, and best Bond-babe contest. We started cracking the glowsticks and heading out onto the course around 9:30. It was a much more difficult than I imagined it was going to be. With no depth perception, a slight intoxication, and smaller clubs than I was used to, hitting the little glowing golf ball was quite the challenge. I actually managed to lose one of the glowing balls in the bushes. Each team played five holes then headed back into the club house. Coming in at 3-over-par I knew we weren't going to be winning any prizes. But speaking of prizes, during dinner they gave away door prizes by calling ticket numbers that we received when checking in for the tournament. I had two of my tickets actually called at different times and both times it was when they were giving away a stack of four "Tour Montana" guide books. So by the end of dinner I had eight of the same book, and the stack easily weighed twenty pounds. I just laughed at my luck and decided to simply leave them on the table because I wasn't about to drag them in my trailer anywhere. Anyways, they handed out the trophies and prizes back at the club house and I eventually made it home around 12:30. It was a really fun experience, and I was thankful to have met so many people and been able to play night golf.

Sunday, after sleeping in late again, Khoi and I walked to an early dinner, and then to the movies. After the movie, we called a cab and went over to the bowling alley, only to find it closing. So we went home. Monday I ran errands all day. I went to the post office and sent all the donations from Jackson, WY into the Friends of the WFP office in D.C. and then went over to a print shop to get flyers and business cards made. Since it was owned by one of the Rotarians I had met, he comp'd me all the work, which was great. That evening after Khoi finished his work in the chemistry lab, we grabbed a big pizza at a local pizzeria and then some ice cream. I spent the rest of the evening catching up on my blogs and then finally got some sleep. Bozeman was a fun experience along this journey of mine. Between hanging out with my good friend Khoi, meeting Richard Kiel, playing night golf, and just being able to relax for a bit, I really enjoyed my time there.

The next morning after packing up and leaving, I met up with the local CBS affiliates just outside of town at their studio. I had met one of their reporters at the golf tournament and she offered to do a spot on me. So, we did a little interview, and then I continued on my way. I'm posting all my media on my website if you're interested. Yesterday was a really tough day. I went 103 miles and about 75 of that I was having to fight a sustained 20+ mph head wind. I though Kansas was supposed to be the windiest state, but Montana and Wyoming have been kicking my butt with wind much more than the high plains of Kansas. Around mile 85 I had a total blow out on my trailer tire cause the tire itself was totally worn out. So I sat down on the side of the highway and changed the two, and while doing so, for the first time ever on this trip, a car pulled over and the driver got out to check to make sure I was okay. Not just once, but twice. I think it was because I had to lay my bike down since there was nothing to prop it on, and it looked like I had a wipe out, I guess.Eventually, after seven and a half hours on the bike, I made it to Helena, MT. This was my 8th state capital in my 11th state. I was so happy to have learned that day at lunch that a Rotarian in the Rotary club of Helena was the general manager of a hotel in town and that I had a room being comp'd to me. I was exhausted to the point of delusion by the time I reached the hotel, so when the lady at the front desk greeted me with, "You must be the person I'm waiting for." I was so relieved that I wasn't going to have to explain myself. The room was amazing, the shower was one of the best in a long time. I'm so lucky. So thankful.

Today, I went downtown to the Rotary club's lunch meeting. Once again, everyone was very welcoming and kind. They allowed me ample time to speak and a few members were genuinely interested in my story which is always nice. Finding people who are interested, supportive, and just plain kind really keep my motivation high to continue and finish this campaign. I hope some of them will go online and donate. I spent the rest of the afternoon riding around downtown, checking out the capital building, a couple cool cathedrals, a bike shop for new tubes, and then grabbed a couple of delicious pints at a local microbrewery that I was told I had to try by the lady at the news station in Bozeman. And she was right. After that, I cycled back to the hotel, and started typing up this blog. You are now completely up to date. Tomorrow, I ride 115+ miles to Missoula, MT where I am being hosted by the sister of a Rotarian I met in Bozeman. I have at least one mountain pass to go over, and it's supposed to be raining all day, so it should be one of my easier days. Riiiiiiight. And I labor on...

Besides a little cold rain, the short ride to Jackson was easy enough. I met Kevin Olsen, my Rotary contact and host in Jackson outside his neighborhood and he helped settle me in at the Olsen home. He had a beautiful,  big house with an amazing view of the Grand Tetons off his back porch. I spent the rest of the day hanging out with the Olsen family, and resting. The next day, Tuesday, proved to be one of the craziest days I've had on  this campaign. I rode around town a little bit in the morning before making my way over to the Rotary club meeting. After meeting several members and finding Kevin, we grabbed out lunch and sat down. Like all meetings I waited to be introduced then did my little 5-8 minute speech and sat down. This was a rather large club, with around 15 big round tables in the banquet hall. On the opposite side of the room from my table a man stood up and announced that his table just collected $60 dollars toward One Man, One Bike, One Fight and that he challenged all the other tables to at least match that. Immediately there was this crazy commotion in the hall, and the other announcements being made were rather muddled. By the end of the commotion and collections they presented me with a three inch stack of cash totally something like $965 dollars. I was completely speechless and blown away. I didn't know what to do with such a thing. After the meeting was over, I immediately went to the local Wells Fargo bank and opened a free checking account. I did not want to be pulling around that much cash with me in my trailer for any amount of time. I then went to a bike shop where I picked up a couple more inner tubes and ran into two other guys doing bicycle tours. One in particular had the opposite timing story of mine. He was doing a cross country tour, then heading off to the Peace Corps where as I just returned from the PC and now I was cycling. We had a good conversation for a while, then I headed over to the local microbrewery pub for some more food and a celebration beer.

Backtracking in time here a moment: after the Rotary meeting earlier in the day, a visiting Rotarian, Mike Banville, from Bozeman, MT introduced himself and told me that I needed to get up to Bozeman for their Friday breakfast meeting. I didn't even know I was invited so this was a surprise, but when he mentioned that the main guest on Friday was a famous man who was five inches taller than I was, my brain immediately though, "Shaq?!" But then he gave the clue that he was in a golf comedy and I immediately realized who he was speaking of. The actor Richard Kiel, the man who played Jaws in the James Bond movies and Mr. Larson, Adam Sandler's old boss with the nail in his head, in Happy Gilmore was the correct answer. With this information, I knew that I wasn't going to be spending any extra time in Jackson like I had planned, and had to get on the road the next day.

So, after the having a couple celebratory micro brews, I cycled over to Kevin's work where I was informed that I had been invited to Jackson's "Supper Rotary club" that I didn't even know existed. So after getting leaving Kevin and going to grab a iced double espresso I cycled over to the next Rotary meeting. This was a much smaller club, but they were extremely relaxed and friendly. Everyone was happy to meet me and hear my story and this club also gave very generously. When I got back to the Olsen's, Shelly, Kevin's wife, had a late dinner prepared and I had yet another meal. I ate five good meals that day and would have felt like a glutton, but what I learned next made me feel smart for eating so much. For some reason, I had it in my mind that it was a one day trip from Jackson to Bozeman on a bike. Google maps shattered that idea when I read 230 miles from the total trip distance. This meant that I had back-to-back 120 mile days with in city/park travel, because Yellowstone National Park was between these cities and I definitely wanted to see Ol' Faithful. So, I packed up the night before, prepared my mental state for the long journey and got some sleep.

That next morning, I was not excited. I set out, made it through town okay, then found myself cycling through a wide open elk reserve with the Grand Tetons coming up on the left. The beauty that I witnessed that day was the only thing that kept me going. There was a strong, cold wind blowing right into my face all day long keeping me at a measly 12-13 mph. The Tetons were amazing. I was slightly disappointed in the fact that there were low level clouds covering the very tops of the peaks, but that in itself was rather awesome. I had to pass through Grand Teton National Park in order to reach Yellowstone, and toward the end of the first park there were signs warning of heavy construction and to expect delays. As I closed in on this area, I passed an older man touring by bicycle in the opposite direction. He signaled me to stop, so I obliged. He warned me about the eight miles of terrible road ahead, which I was not excited to hear, but then he went off on a rant about how the construction workers wanted him to put his bike into their Pilot Car which would have safely got him through the poor terrain and bad traffic and how he refused to accept their help. He threatened to call the state police and whatnot, and the whole time I'm thinking to myself, "YES! A pilot car!". I told him good luck and got back to pedaling. When I reached the construction, I rolled up to a man next to a truck and asked if there was a pilot car. He smiles and says load it up. When I jumped in with him, he begins to tell me about a real ornery man who refused their help. I started laughing and told him I had just met him and he was still being ornery and ranting. I told him I was happy to accept some assistance and wasn't gonna fight him. We laughed about it, and I got a ride over the eight miles of pot-holed mud, dirt and gravel road. Hoping out of the truck and getting back on the bike, I was about three miles from the entrance of Yellowstone, which meant I had another 57 miles to go till I reached my camp site.

I put my head down and just pedaled and pedaled. I had some decent climbs through the park and other than a few great views of a river and canyon it was a lot of pine trees and nothing else. At mile 90 I had been climbing a good bit and crossed the continental divide for the second time that day, and the sixth time in my trip. I was happy to learn from a passing family that Ol' Faithful was only six miles ahead and it was all down hill. At 7:30 pm I arrived at Ol' Faithful. It was getting close to sunset and I had another 16 miles to go till camp. Luckily I timed it rather well and only had to wait around twenty minutes for it to blow. I was impressed with the height of the water's eruption, but the over all enjoyment of the sight was limited for several reasons. I was exhausted, knew I had a while longer to cycle, there were hundreds of happy families and couples all excited to see it while I was sweaty, tired and alone, and finally because it's slightly unsettling to know that Ol' Faithful exists because Yellowstone is a giant super volcano that is capable of ending life as we know it on the planet and just happens to be near the geological time to explode. Other than all that, I was happy to have made it this far and see this national treasure of ours. Again, luckily, it was all down hill to my camp site and I made it before pitch black dark. I also got to see one of my favorite sun sets of all time. The sky was totally orange and the sun was low behind a large geyser basin with a dozen or so steam vents making for a very picturesque days end. Upon reaching my camp site night had fallen along with the already low temperature and I was shivering. Soaked with sweat, I had to set up my tent and bed before going to change into dry, warm clothes. That night the temperature fell to 30 degrees, and it was not a comfortable night. My sleeping bag is only weathered to 40 degrees and when I stretch out, which is what you really want to do after 8 1/2 hours on a bike, it only come up to my chest. Therefore, I had to pull my legs up and sleep in total fetal position down inside my sleeping back like I was the filling of a burrito. I made it through the night, not completely rested, but alive. Which was a plus since I was surrounded by "Bear Country" warnings.

After eating a couple bananas with peanut butter, Clif bars, and trail mix for breakfast I stretched out and got back on the bike. The morning was actually rather nice, with a slight wind and only one slow climb I made it the 40 miles to Mammoth Hot Springs and the long, gorgeous decent through a mountainous canyon. I must have descended almost 3,000 feet in about nine miles but I made it to the exit of the park and Gardenier, MT where I had lunch. After eating, and talking to my family I mounted my trusty steed and pedaled out of town for the 80 mile afternoon ride. Immediately I knew there was a big difference from Yellowstone and Paradise Canyon where I had to ride 55 miles to Livingston, MT. It was much drier, brown and hot. There also happened to be a quite steady 15-20 mph wind blowing right into my face. The canyon acted as a wind tunnel and kept me at a difficult 13 mph the whole way, even on the down slopes, which is a moral killer. After much cursing and straining I made it to Livingston where I was to jump onto the interstate for the last 30 miles to Bozeman, MT. The first 12-15 miles were all uphill and I had no power left in my legs. Even on the flat parts I couldn't even break 10 mph. At the end of this first half stretch there was a small pass and when I crested it, I stopped, drank a Gatorade, and prepared for the home stretch. It was a great feeling to let gravity pull you down hill at 30 mph when you've been crawling all day long. When it flattened out toward Bozeman I had such a second (probably fifth) wind because I was so ready to be done that I was able to keep up a strong push and make it into town before dark. I met up with my friend from the Peace Corps, Khoi, who is a grad student at Montana State University here, and got settled in. 

I wanted to catch you all up completely, but I've been blogging for hours now and I've got to ride 97 miles tomorrow to get to Helena from Bozeman. So, you'll have to wait a couple more days to hear about my great experiences in Bozeman, because I need my sleep! I'm in Helena for a day for their Rotary club meeting, and I'll make sure to get everyone up to date and right where I am. Thanks for sticking with me.
 

45 miles West of Steamboat Springs I stopped in Craig, CO where Suzanne had connected me with the local paper for a duplicate article from Steamboat, but with new photos of me riding into Craig. After taking the pictures, I was introduced to Dave DeRosa who used to be the mayor of the little town and he bought me lunch. As I was about to head out of Craig and onto Maybell, an even tinier town 35 miles West where Suzanne had hooked me up with a family to stay with, I checked my voicemail and received a message from Lisa Balstad (my hostess) saying she and her husband worked in Craig and wouldn't be home until later so I should stick around and have dinner with them in Craig. With time to kill I went to a coffee shop till my host was able take me to dinner. After eating a spicy chicken sandwhich and spicy fries, I had to ride out of town at 6:30 for a  two hour ride on a full stomach...mmmm. I actually beat the Balstad's back to their house because their daughter had horse riding lessons. After a much appreciated shower, I sat around the table with Lisa and Nate and their two young daughters talking about Niger, and my bike trip.

The next morning I packed and headed across the rest of Colorado and into Utah. It was a 90+ mile day and soon after Maybell, Northwestern Colorado turns into a very arid, desert like climate. A couple things that surprised me along my way was a random seagull, extremely far from any significant body of water flying around the desert as well as giant antelope that I did not know existed in this region of the world. I saw several females, but it was a huge male with stocky horns on the left side of the road who watched me approach, that really gave me a sense of awe. There are very few people around this area and when I got close he began bounding back into the field, but not before leaping over, with complete effortlessness, a tall barbed-wire fence. He bounded along a ridge keeping pace with me for a good quarter mile before stopping atop the highest point and watching me pedal on. This animal was solid muscle and pure beauty. It's a shame some undeserving person will probably have his head on their wall one day. I saw lots of cool rock and mountain formations in those 90 miles, but the extreme heat and flat tire I got made me only wish to be at the days end. I eventually made it to Vernal, UT where, again, Steamboat Springs folk had arranged a place for me to stay. I was hosted by a woman named Connie, who was very nice and quite unique. Her husband and daughters were in Salt Lake City for the night, and she had the most wild home. She took complete advantage of her land with gardens and fruit trees as well as run-off water catchment systems. But she also raised & showed rabbits. I blame ignorance, but I had no idea rabbits could be so big. She called them Flemmish Giants, and boy were they. They were bigger than her entire upper body. But I was just happy to have a shower, a nice dinner and a place to sleep.

My next day was a short distance (70+ miles) to an aptly named desert state park around a damned reservoir: Starvation State Park. When I got there all the camp sites had been taken, and I was getting a little worried. But as I cycled around looking for an open site, a man and woman with a camper approached me and asked if I needed a space. They had two sites, and were expecting their children to arrive that day, but when they heard it wouldn't be till tomorrow they offered me the free tent site. I was, yet again, appreciative and blown away by the kindness of strangers. My good luck continued in the morning, when as I was packing, a man from a different camper came over and asked about my trip. He and his family happened to be from Heber, UT, the city I was headed toward that night, and he offered me dinner and their back yard to camp in for the night. This was just awesome. I cycled all day, passing from desert climate to national forest and mountains again. It was another really hot day and the first 50 miles were really tough to stay hydrated. But I eventually made it to Heber and waited for the my hosts to return from their day at the lake. So I found a nice cafe with good food, good beer, and free internet and I rested. After a couple hours Doug and Hayley Smith and their three young blond daughters made it home and I cycled over to meet them. Once again, it was great to be able to shower and have a home cooked meal. When planning this trip, I never expected to be so lucky so many times when it came to sheltering and feeding myself. I showed the family my website and pictures from Niger, telling them stories from my time in the Peace Corps. The little girls were totally cute and interested, especially when I showed them photos of the children over in West Africa.

From Heber, I made my way to Salt Lake City, which was only 45 miles away. So,that afternoon  I stopped for several hours in Park City, UT, a beautiful little ski town in the mountains. There was a neat little art and farmers market going on in the streets with booths and tons of people. So I walked around checking out the area, had some lunch, and eventually made it to a coffee shop where I waited around to hear from my Peace Corps friend, Alison Walls, who lived in Salt Lake City. After getting in touch with Alison I got back onto the bike and back out onto the road. I had been told it was legal to bicycle on the interstate in Utah, and it cut twenty miles off my days ride so I decided to follow I-80 into Salt Lake City (SLC). After a short climb there was around a 15 mile decent through a canyon into SLC which was a pretty hairy ride. Struggling to keep myself down around 30 mph I also had to dodge tons of gravel and debris from the 18-wheelers. I turned my music up and had fun the whole way down. Somehow, miraculously, I didn't get a flat tire or wipe out, and safely pedaled into Alison's neighborhood. I spent four or five days in SLC resting and relaxing. I was able to speak to two Rotary clubs in town and was shown a great reception by the Rotarians, especially the Sugar House Rotary club. Alison and her friend took me on an awesome hike up to a glacial lake in the mountains and up to a ridge above the lake that overlooked the entire valley on the backside all the way back to Park City where I had just cycled from earlier that week. It was a great view, especially seeing where I had come from. On the hike we also walked right past a momma moose with her baby moose and they were only 15 feet from us. It was both scary and exhilarating at the same time. Moose are a lot larger than one would think. Usually I only see their heads on walls. It was good to catch up with Alison and retell each other a bunch of our memories from Niger. I definitely needed a rest after crossing half of Colorado and most of Utah in a week.

Leaving SLC, I went 82 miles up to Logan, UT through mostly urban settings. With a little extra money in my pocket from the Rotary club meetings in SLC, and a lack of camping sites in a city I decided to get myself a cheap Super 8 motel room, especially cause I was sleeping on the floor in Alison's apartment and I hadn't had a bed in a while. Unfortunately, I slept terribly that night. Montpelier, Idaho was my next destination, 74 miles away and through some mountains. Half the day was completely still and the sun beamed down harshly, and the other half, once into the mountains climbing slowly and very sweaty, was cold and windy straight into my face. It was a tough day, and when I arrived in Montpelier one of the first things I saw was a really low budget looking motel. I told the lady my story and she knocked the price way down so I accepted and got another room. This night, I slept like a baby. I left Idaho the next morning and made my way into Wyoming. Through one of the canyons entering Wyoming I had to stop and take a couple pictures of something I didn't quite understand, but was excited to see. With steep hills on each side of the road and very little space there was a couple hundred head of sheep being herded by either two native Americans or Hispanics, I couldn't tell. But what really made me smile, was the fluffy sheep dog on the shoulder of the highway keeping all the flock off the road while the trucks sped by. This dog was completely unfrightened by the passing cars and casually walked the herd's line keeping them back. Once through the canyons I came into the Star Valley which was truly beautiful. High, green mountains on both sides of a wide expanse of farm lands made for a gorgeous afternoon ride. I stopped in Afton for a little diner lunch and got to see a very impressive "elkhorn arch" that stretches over the main street. It's made of over 3,000 elk antlers and weighs over 15 tons. Craziness. I finished out the day up in Alpine, WY, 81 miles later. I found a campsite behind a biker bar and set up my tent. Jackson, WY (a.k.a. Jackson Hole) was my next destination and a mere 36 miles away.

So I realize it's been three full states since I've sent out a blog, and I want to apologize to all who are following me. It's been a long month and I was simply trying to knock out as many miles as possible. So allow me to catch you up over the next few blogs. Now is a perfect opportunity to tell you about how amazing my stay in Steamboat Springs was.

After saying goodbye to my friend Christa, from Denver, on Sunday evening, I called Suzanne Schlicht, the president of the Steamboat Grand Rotary club. She put me in touch with Grant and Tracy Fenton who had agreed to host me for the next three nights. Grant and Tracy are two of the nicest, more fun and hospitable people I've met on this trip. I met them for dinner that evening and we immediately hit it off. It was very easy to connect with them and they were totally interested in who I was and what I was doing. After dinner and drinks, Grant and I drove up to Suzanne's house to visit before heading back to his house for bed. There I met her and her husband as well as bunch of Suzanne's family that was visiting . Everyone there was also extremely curious about my story and we talked for a good hour or two. Everyone was so nice that I met in those first few hours of being taken care of by Rotary that I knew the next few days would be special.

Grant owned his own investment company and was able to work whenever he wished (I really need to figure out how to accomplish this). So, on Monday, I was truly excited to hear that when I had mentioned that I loved fly fishing, Grant happened to own some property and be a member of this ranch development outside of town in the middle of beautiful rolling hills and pastures with surrounding mountains as well, and they just happened to have an amazing river with fishing guides who provide rods, waders, and advice on how to catch some of the most beautiful and huge trout I've ever seen. Even with my extremely rusty technique (I actually hit my guide in the face with my fly and hooked his hat on a back cast) I was able to pull in three gorgeous rainbow trout and brook trout within the first hour or two. The simply don't make trout like that in the Appalachian rivers of North Carolina, where I was accustomed to fishing.  Though Grant caught a "tree bass" with one of his back casts, he ended the day going home empty netted. After fishing, we went back to Grants office where I met up with a reporter from the local paper, The Steamboat Pilot. Suzanne happened to also be the publisher of this paper and set me up to be interviewed not only in the paper, but also a 7 minute live tv interview on Tuesday during the local channel's morning show. The reporter was thorough and surprised with many of my answers. They also sent over a photographer to take a few pictures of me with my bike & trailer. That evening we met up with Tracy for dinner at one of their friend's restaurants. We were joined by another one of their friends and his family, who were all very interested to hear my story, so it was good to get to share my experiences some more. After dinner, Grant and Tracy took me up to Strawberry Springs, which is a very naturally built but nice hot springs in the mountains above Steamboat. The water comes right out of the side of the mountain at a very hot temperature, and they've channeled it into a few different pools that are mixed with a cold mountain river at different levels and amounts creating a temperature differential. There's really hot, hot, warm, and you can actually walk into the unmixed waters of the river and get a nice cold shock to your system before returning to the steaming springs. This was great therapy for my weary body.

The next morning Grant and I went to his office to work and hang out until the Rotary meeting at lunch. He ran across the street and came back with a paper and a smile on his face. He nor Suzanne knew how they'd run the article, but I ended up being the main story on the front page with a big picture of me and my bike. The article went on to a second page and was very well written. Needless to say, I was pleased. Grant grabbed his bike to show me where to go for my morning show interview and we cycled over to the paper and tv headquarters building. On our way there a random guy on his bike asked if I was the guy in the article, praised me and congratulated me on my work. It was out of nowhere and a nice light to my morning. Grant headed back to the office and I was introduced to Harper, the very attractive morning show host. She was very personable and made the whole situation very comfortable. It was a quick interview with Harper and they had qued up some graphics from my website to show on the tv while we spoke. When I watched the recording later on, I felt like a dummy, but other people reassured me that it went really well. I went to a really nice creek side cafe for breakfast afterwards and had a delicious meal. The waitresses were excited that I was the guy on the paper and gave me the breakfast for free. During my meal, the table behind me had been reading the article and asked when I had returned from Niger. I told them December and they asked if I knew a guy named Christopher Burns. I immediately started laughing in surprise and said, "Yeah, he was my boss." This man had gone to college with him, and his wife had actually gone to high school with his as well. I was blown away by the coincidence and at how small the world really is. At the Rotary club lunch meeting, I was truly moved by the kind things that Grant said as he introduced me.  Apparently, I had made quite the impression on him with my story. After I spoke, the whole club gave me a grand reception, applause and standing ovation. This kind of thing still surprises me, but I'm happy that I can inspire people and move people with what I've seen and done. After all, that's the point of my awareness campaign. Suzanne and Grant both started a verbal pledge throughout the club saying how they were going to donate a hundred dollars each and challenged the other members to join them in order to reach the $500 mark where the WFP can start a school garden with that sum. School gardens are an important and quality project in developing nations, as a Peace Corps volunteer many of us that served in Niger started this type of project and worked with the teachers and school children in order to provide nutritious foods to the kids as well as a motivation to village parents to send their children to school. By the end of my time in Steamboat Springs my campaign fundraising had increased by almost $800. I was beyond thankful. That afternoon, Grant took me fly fishing again. This time, the wind was blowing and the water was colder making the fish less likely to bite. As our guide was taking my picture I actually hooked what felt like a little fish, but as I reeled him closer to the net he turned and fought like a monster braking my fly off and escaping before I got an actual look at him. Other than that, it was an uneventful venture, but it didn't matter. I was just happy to have the opportunity to be swinging a fly line through the air in such an absolutely breathtaking area. Tuesday evening, Suzanne had also invited the Rotarians out to a restaurant for a send off for me since I was leaving the next morning. This was above and beyond as it was another meal I wasn't responsible for, and they used the opportunity to try to raise a little money for myself to continue my journey. I simply cannot thank Suzanne Schlicht or Grant Fenton  and his wife Tracy for all that they did for me. It was one of the best hostings and receptions I've received on this entire trip. And as if all this wasn't enough, they made connections across Colorado, Utah, and Wyoming for me to be hosted and received. Truly amazing.

Reluctantly, I left the comfortable situation in Steamboat Springs Wednesday morning for a much more inhospitable environment...Northwestern Colorado.

I

So, basically I've fallen in love with the state of Colorado. My time in Denver was awesome. Being able to relax, hang out with friends, get some work done, and still ride twenty miles a day around town was exactly what I needed. I spent my remaining time in Denver exploring the city, talking with Rotary clubs, spending time with old and new friends, playing sports, and going out for dinner, drinks, dancing, and of course piniata smashing. Denver has a great trail system for the hundreds of bikers that cycle around town every day, and I used them to go all over the city. I was able to speak to four Rotary clubs in Denver, and was very happy to meet many very interested people. I took a 50 mile round trip bike ride with Kelly Pohl, my friend from the Peace Corps, to Golden, CO and took the tour of the Coors brewery. I gotta say I was more impressed with Anheiser-Busch's tour in St. Louis. I went up to Boulder with my new very good friend Christa Long a couple of times to check out their awesome farmer's market, and also went to a mead & wine tasting. I also had the opportunity to see Fort Collins when Shannon Stehle, a friend from the University of South Carolina, invited me up there to experience Brewfest, which is a sampling festival of a couple dozen of Colorado's microbreweries. In Denver my friends and I played a bunch of grass volleyball at Washington Park. Denver has the best park system I've ever seen. Every few city blocks there is another excellent, big, green park to play around in. Wash Park attracts dozens and dozens of volleyball net owners out each week in summer where hundreds come to play volleyball or frisbee or simply running, cycling, roller blading, etc. Everyone is so active in Denver, and it's so easy to be so. I am seriously leaning toward moving here after this bike ride is finished.

After having a great break in Denver, it was extremely difficult for me to say goodbye and continue on with my journey. Last Thursday I hugged, kissed, and waved goodbye to my friends and forced myself to ride out of town. I had a relatively easy ride up to Lyons before actually entering the foothills and the Rocky Mountains. From Lyons I climbed around 4,000 feet and eventually made it to Estes Park, CO. It was a brutal day of acclimating to higher altitude breathing, and learning how to ride 20 miles constantly uphill. After a long, hard day I finally reached my destination and found the mountain house a friend of a friend of a friend in Denver was letting me camp under the car port. I had a pizza delivered to my tent, called my family and friends, then passed out from exhaustion.

The next day I began what would be the longest uphill battle of my life, both figuratively and literally. Rocky Mountain National Park, and Trail Ridge Road. These two names always made peoples faces contort in a either surprised or painful way when I talked about having to cycle over them. I realized why this day. Twenty-five miles of straight climbing at five miles per hour, towing my 70-80 pound trailer was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I saw some of the most spectacular, breath-taking views in my entire life and the entire day was a rewarding experience. When I reached the Tundra Zone, above 11,000 ft, I was totally excited to see snow banks and snow fields. It had been many years since I held a snowball in my hand and laughed at how child-like it made me feel to form the ball in my hands. Being the highest road in the United States, my climb on Trail Ridge Road topped out around 12,183 ft above sea level (over two miles high). At the visitor center on top, I saw a herd of elk and actually ate an elk bratwurst from the restaurant up there. Lots of people on the mountain were interested to know why I was cycling over such a difficult road, especially with so much gear. I even had a van full of moms and daughters cheering as I rounded the top into the decent. Coming down all the mountains was quite a wild experience as well. Leaving the Tundra Zone and seeing the snow melting into waterfalls and rivers with all the awesome surrounding trees and mountain views was just gorgeous. Toward the bottom of Trail Ridge Road I saw a couple big herds of elk grazing in fields, and one big moose or elk bull. I didn't see him until I was flying by but I definitely caught a look at some giant antlers. I eventually left the park and finished out the day making it to Granby, CO where I was so tired and proud of myself I sprung for a cheap motel.

My third day of mountain cycling was an 80 mile day to Steamboat Springs. most of the day was small up and downs until I reached the Routt National Forest and had to go up and over Muddy Pass followed by Rabbit Ears Pass. These topped out at an altitude of around 9,600 ft so it wasn't near as hard as the day before. Coming up and over Rabbit Ears Pass a storm blew in and I had to ride the last 15-20 miles in a fridged downpour. The decent into Steamboat Springs was much steeper than the Eastern assent, and with the rain I was definitely having a difficult end to my day. My hands got locked in the clenched position from using the breaks and my body wouldn't stop shivering. But I was excited to get to my destination because Christa had come up from Denver to hang out for the weekend. Finally I made it off the mountain and met Christa at a gas station. Steamboat Springs is a gorgeous, rich, super friendly mountain town with ski slopes surrounding it. It was a busy weekend for the town due to a couple festivals that were happening, but eventually we found a hotel in town that had a vacancy and we checked in. My only concern was that it had a hot tub because I could not get my core temperature up and was still shivering. So I soaked, warmed up, and enjoyed an amazing weekend of hiking and exploring an awesome town. Christa left for Denver Sunday night and I got connected with the local Rotary club for the rest of my stay in Steamboat. I spent three more absolutely amazing days here in Steamboat, in which I'll tell you about in my next blog. But for now, I've got to get my trailer packed and get on the road. Sorry to leave you with a cliff hanger, but I'll catch you up as soon as I can.

I pressed on over the Colorado border, into mountain time and finally found myself in Idalia after 101 miles. Surprisingly, there happened to be a small motel in town (Idalia is a tiny, "no redlight" town). So I got myself a room because I didn't want to camp knowing that the next day would likely be one of the hardest so far. I walked to the other side of town to the only restaurant, Route 36 Grille & Pub, for some dinner, and was blown away when the sweet bartender woman went to the general manager/owner in the back and told him about my trip and they comp'd my entire meal. I had a chicken wing appetizer, a fillet mingion steaks dinner, and cheese cake dessert. It was delicious. I promptly went back to the motel and passed out.

I woke the next morning, and prepared for a long day. Went to the motel's morning cafe and ate a hearty breakfast. Once all packed up and stretched I hit the road again. I had heard from my friend in Denver who served in Niger with me, Kelly McNicholas, that she had already purchased a ticket for me to go to a bluegrass music festival, and that I needed to be there ASAP. So, I decided to make what was going to be a two day distance and try to make it in one. I sat on my bike for over eight hours that day and by nightfall had made it 131.5 miles, Crushing my previous personal best, I doubt I'll ever top this one. I was exhausted! My whole body was hurting and there was a storm brewing just ahead of where I was, 10-20 miles outside Denver. Not only that, but the highway I was traveling on merged with the interstate for a stretch when entering the city and I didn't want to take that risk, especially at night. So, feeling like I deserved a little help after such a long day, I let my friend from college, Adeev Getzel, come pick me up and bring me to his house. And that's where "home" has been for me in Denver since.

The next day, Kelly McNick, Kelly Pohl (another teammate of mine in Niger) and their friend Christa Long, met me downtown and we headed out for the bluegrass festival. I had little to no idea what they had planned or where we were going, but it was quickly explained to me that the festival was in Telluride, CO which was easily an 8-10 hour drive across the state, through some amazingly gigantic and beautiful Rocky Mountain passes. I couldn't stop "Ooooo-ing and Ahhhh-ing" the whole way. This state possesses some of the most indescribable beauty that I've ever laid eyes on. And Telluride was no exception. A tiny, but very nice city nestled in a valley and surrounded by tall mountains and a big waterfall, we had to take a gondola ride up and over one peak to even enter the town. Coming over the top of that peak was one of the most awe inspiring moments I've had in the U.S. Telluride looked like a little model town far below us (think of the movie Bettlejuice). With the influx of festival goers the town was bustling and there was a joyful spirit in the air. Everyone was simply enjoying the perfect scenery and the good music being played, along with plenty of good food and cold beer. It rained for about 3 hours and was pretty cold, but in the afternoon the sun broke the clouds and turned it into a gorgeous day. So we danced, and played games the whole day, ending with a good pub dinner in town. We made it to Ouray, CO that night where we had reserved a hotel room.

The next day, Father's day and the Summer Solstice, we awoke to an even more beautiful city and surroundings. I couldn't get over how amazing and unreal it all looked. After breakfast we walked around the town, the girls did a little shopping, and then we went on a hike up to a gorgeous waterfall. We actually hiked all the way above the falls to a ledge with a great view. Going up wasn't too bad, but backtracking down the steep slope with many loose rocks turned out to be rather dangerous. Christa made me laugh so hard when she gave herself a lesson on gravity and momentum. Coming down the ledge to the slope, her satchel bag was bothering her so she tried to lower it and drop it to the slope below her. I tried to say, "That's not going to work." But all I could do was watch. When the bag hit the ground, it started to roll down a little bit slowly, then turned into a tumble. Before a handful of seconds went by it was full on out of control down the mountain spitting its contents out along the way. Christa took it really well, and joined me in the laugh. There wasn't much she could do. Slowly we skidded and slipped our way down the slope trying not to hit each other with tumbling rocks. Christa eventually recovered her bag and most of its contents. We only had a couple of scary falling rock incidents. One basketball sized rock I stepped on fell and got going so fast by the time it landed below it had so much momentum it spun and jumped out away from the slope so far and fast that I was truly worried for the people far below seeing the waterfall. The other rock Christa started, and we were close enough to the hikers that I was able to holler out, "Heads Up!" Luckily, everyone made it off the mountain safely, and Christa only lost her AAA card and Walmart Card.

Feeling exercised and accomplished after our hike, we walked to Ouray's natural hot springs spa where we soaked in 100+ hot spring waters for three hours. It was awesome. They had built this spa house on top of the springs and in the basement where the changing rooms, etc. were they had the entrance to the Vapor Cave. Which was literally a rock cave in the mountain where 108 degree water sprung from turned the cave into the best sauna/steam room I've ever been in. They had built a rough pool to catch the water and some cement slabs for laying on, but all the walls, ceiling and floor were natural cave. An excellent, and very hot, place to melt away and relax. Then when you got too hot inside the cave, you could go outside the house to their hot springs fed patio swimming pool. This was only 102 degrees and the outside air felt incredible after being in the hot waters. Around five o'clock that beautiful Sunday afternoon we packed up the car and headed out on the long drive back to Denver. But we decided to take a different route back in order to stop at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. The Gunnison river is a fast moving water source that has cut through the Earth over time creating an absolutely breath-taking canyon that's comparable in vastness and beauty to the Grand Canyon. It has lots of colors and much more vegetation in and on it, almost making it more beautiful than the Grand some people say (I've never seen the Grand Canyon). So, from the spectacular views in the park we got back on the road and finally made it into Denver around 2 in the morning on Monday.

This week has been full of awesome experiences. I've traveled the city by bus, train, and my bike. I've been able to speak to three Rotary clubs about my trip, and hopefully schedule some more next week. We celebrated Christa's birthday on Tuesday. I rode through the worst thunder storm on this entire trip yesterday on my 20+ miles ride through Denver. The streets were completely flooded up to the wheel wells of the cars and I got stuck in a nasty hail downpour for about three city blocks before I could find shelter. When I got back on the sidewalk all along the sides and in parking lots it looked like it had snowed a foot or two with the accumulation of hail like snowbanks. Eventually, I was able to make it back to Adeev's, safe and sound and wet. Today Kelly Pohl is having a big bbq and beach volleyball party so that will be fun. Denver is definitely an awesome, and beautiful city, and I'm going to have some really nice training rides through some beautiful areas before tacking the Rocky Mountain National Park after the 4th of July. So, until next time, thanks for keeping up with me, and contact me anytime for anything.