This is a compilation of stories, days upon days of meeting strangers in the oddest of places, making friends with trees, barren roads, desert heat, and stuffed reindeer. About seeing the continent via a bicycle. And about falling in love, testing human limits, and restoring a faith in humanity.
Pages
- UTAH - Tent, Reindeer, Bicycle 2014
- Heading to Alaska on a Bicycle
- THE JOHN MUIR TRAIL: A Tale of a Reindeer and German Lover 2013
- JMT South to North: SOLO in the SIERRAS 2015
- Oregon: Willamette National Forest, Boy, and Mount...
- ONE COUNTRY VIA A BICYCLE 2012
- MAINE: Cycle Touring the Northern State of Blueberries 2015
Intro
Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Day 10 The Mountain with Christmas at the Top
Weather: sunny and 80. Our first day the weatherman didn't curse us basically.
The days are starting to merge. We live in a bubble of Bike &Build lost in time and place. Morning feels like days ago, I have to ask strangers what day of the week it is and naps happen daily like an overexerted preschooler falling asleep in the back of a moving car.
7 states we've reached today. We passed through New Jersey so fast it looked exactly like New York and Pennsylvania. But our wheels touched it and so it counts. Mount Pocono with a population of 3,000 is a bit better than our former towns we've ended us in. Still stuck in a sterile standstill it does has a touch of character from the remnants of the ski town it is in the winter and the Indian influences that shine through the white mans infringement.
I have to say, this is a side of America I did not know. Towns that make my hometown of Oakland California seem like a different country high and elite on a pedestal. How is it that in some states it is illegal to not compost while others don't even recycle. Passing through one town after another ridden with poverty, drugs, and crime in the ruralist of towns, I had to stop and wonder is this our country that is so rich and famous.
So they said the hills would start in P.A. Yup, they were right. And what happens on top of a mountain? Thursday mail drops. We drove beige buggy (our infamous van) to pick up the mail. Rolled out in a gigantic mail cart, it was christmas in June, stuffed full with packages of goodies from moms and dads along with a hefty stake of envelops from almost every state of the USA. Hauling Christmas out of the van back at the host, the riders went nuts. Homemade fresh Banana Bread, homemade tuber-ware overflowing with granola, trail mix, boxes of sunscreen and floss, protein bars, candy, socks, and of course more homemade cookies for all.
Our host tonight is a lovely Methodist church cooking us copious amounts of a pulled pork feast with fresh corn and potatoes. And dinner is being call.