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.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Day 60. Monolithic tourism
Weather: jacket weather
With a day of 46 miles and a lazy wake up of 6am, we didn't quite know what to do with ourselves. And then, 9:30am we roll into our distinction Silgman, and really didn't know what to do with ourselves.
Oh dear, just 5 minutes in this town and I was ready to leave. Population 450, school runs only Monday-Thursday here, and the graduating class was a whopping 12 students. Now there is nothing wrong with this, but killing a whole day in a town where there are only 10 route 66 tourist stops, 1/2 a grocery store, motorcycles and tourists speaking only French judging American culture by this monolithic tourism is a headache waiting to happen. Silgman, once a booming town connecting the east and the west of AZ, has now falling to the sad fate of interstate 40 that veers away from any needs of this towns existence. Why do tourists even flock here, well because it is the town the movie Cars is based on of course.
So the day consisted of a fabulous bite of pancakes at second breakfast in a quaint cafe in town, a 2 hour nap, hair cuts for all the boys in our personal yellow lawn chair, aka my salon, dinner donated by the burger joint in town, and falling asleep to the sunset on a football field.