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 25, 2012

Day 37. Christmas Day

Miles: 71
Weather: 108 and temperate

July 25, 2012 we rose early to prepare the riders for Jingle Bells wake up tunes and whipped up a special warm holiday breakfast surprise of banana blueberry pancakes. Today was the day we had been waiting for, Christmas in July. The sun didnt bare down on us today, but lightly showed itself through the clouds. We reached half way of our journey at mile 7, which caused a commotion on the road in order for the mini celebration. Lunch consisted of 90 donated Chipotle Burritos and we were all waiting to exchange our found gifts this evening.

Orgasmic was the peach cobbler at at the Rock Cafe at mile 55, which took any grandmas baking cookbook to a whole state level competition. 4th cup of coffee into the day, and two 25 minute power naps, I am starting to wonder if I have developed narcoleptic tendencies.

Alyssa turned 23 today, and her challenge consisted of 23 scoops of frozen cows milk, which Scott, who unwillingly lost 7lbs thus far, successfully attempted to conquer the frozen cream challenge with an outcome of only a minor tummy ache and no food coma. 15 minutes later he was back on the bike.

The clouds today were the kind that have flat bottoms with big fluffy tops. The kind that block the sun at just the right moments when you skin feels like it's turning to leather. We've officially reached the wild west, where stores are stocked with cowboy boots and overalls, white fences bar off horses on ranches, and cowboys drive trucks wearing cowboy boots with the wind blowing through their hair. The air smells of a hint of the olden days, a time when oil was the power and wealth of the nation and the concept of limited resources wasn't even fathomable.

Christmas came complete with a tree and all. Gifts of big turtle slippers, unicorn CDs, Barbie dolls, and hard hats were exchanged to the sound if 1950s Christmas carols in the church basement.