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.


Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Day 30. Sunrise to sunset.

Miles: 87
Weather: 105, 107 with heat index.
Terrain: up and down every rolling hill possible till we hit the lake, Lake Ozark. A lake with more coastline then the state of CA.

The sun rose over my right shoulder this morning and set right in front of my eyes. It was a hazy glow at 5:45am. That split moment when the beauty of colors is so vivid, majestic, the peaceful bliss of dawn, and then the sun rose and the heat of the day set in.

I didn't dare tell anyone, but I was nervous about the day. It was hot, too hot, we were van less, and there wasn't a water stop till mile 50. Little did the riders know I re routed the cue sheet tacking an additional 30 miles on to get them off the hwy of death, which they called it last year. Loading riders with 2 peanut butter honey sandwiches each, along with power bars and gaterade i could only pray these roads would treat us well, the sun wouldn't shine too hard, and water would be found.

And now, said and done, it all turned out ok despite 2 riders vaned due to heat exhaustion. Today was the reason I ride my bike. To see things of natural beauty that I didn't even know existed in my own country. Deserted roads winding miles through furry shaded yellow hills. As though a grey carpet was rolled out over the rolling hills of the Ozarks. Missouri is absolutely gorgeous, despite it's oddity of people I am still searching for.

At mile 72, our group called nap time, we found the perfect tree, and conk, with the background music of ice cream queen Taylor chatting nonsense about the distant lake and who knows what else, the sounds trailing into my nap dreams. Nothing quite like waking up under a giant tree shading you from the vicious sun.

We made it to the lake after a feverish climb and fast decent on the wide shoulder of the hwy. The large arches of McDonalds ice cream called our name .5 miles from our host. Cautious Conley, aka Peter, devoured 5 cheeseburger, Taylor slurped down 3 ice creams, and I too licked my heart out at 2 ice cream cones. Day completed.

Our host, a generous church brought their whole community out to meet us. They even got us in the morning paper. Guess that explains all the friendly honks as we came into town.