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, August 2, 2012

Day 45. Cowboy coffee

Miles: 95
Weather: 110 degrees and flammable.

We officially hooked youngster Taylor on coffee just in time for her first year of college. Good news because now that warrants coffee shop stops in towns where we meet locals to be served cowboy coffee, grounds brewed in the pot, strained through burnt toast.

The day started at 4:30am, and after 10 miles of political conversation in my head, 2 miles of drinking water and munching on cliff bars, 5 miles of figuring out how to describe the scenery to a blind person, 2 miles thinking about coffee, and 3 miles of thinking what to think about, we hit the cafe, and the only sight of a town the entire day. God, 70 more miles of the straight baron flat road lined with cross like telephone poles. Oh how a stop sign, curve in the road, a hill, anything would be a treat.

And then we hit mile 50, boom out of the blue, canyons, plateaus, inclines, it was scenic. We call it perching, and it happens at every cliff. After 120 oz of water, the water bottles were bone dry, it was 110 degrees and an ice cube was my sole thought. We rode without civilization for 60 miles, and then straight into a gas station to obliterate their ice machine. Mission accomplished.

Final destination, Roswell New Mexico. Home of UFOs and they believe it like Jesus walked on water. Tomorrow, 2nd day off in 44 days, so details to come. .