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.


Monday, June 2, 2014

Day 6. Fish Lake to Panguitch Utah.

Miles 86
Pedaling time: 6 hours 17 minutes
Elevation gain: maybe 1,000 ft 
High: 95
Low: 40 

Not much sleep due to moose like antelope in our secluded campsite.  55 miles into the day, there we lay, on the cool shaded cement outside the only store in town, a half eaten jar of jam and peanut butter, orange peels and an apple core, napping like a drunk bum in a park. It wasn't sore legs or the heat, just very tried eyes that even a red bull couldn't spark as if we could fall asleep in mid pedal motion. 

Realizing we haven't hit a stop light in over 370 miles, cell service, or service of any kind, has been sparse, as the biggest town we've been through in the past 4 days has a population of 350. After we drank all our whiskey in the first 2 days, it has been a 4 day detox, 200 mile ride to the next state liquor store. I told you this state was like prohibition. 

The last 30 miles of the day we might as well have been in a tornado and although we stayed upright, our efforts to go downhill in a headwind from hell left us at a mere 10mph. I'm not quite sure how we made it to mile 86, but we must have looked like wreck looses at the first gas station, guzzling ice cold water by the gallon without a care in the world. 

Our longest hardest day yet, never happier to see whiskey or tequila, after living on $20 a day for 6 day, we splurged, too tired to pitch a tent, we moteled for the night, showered for the first time in 6 days, begged to do laundry with motel mom, and gorged on BBQ, leafy salad, and potatoes across the street. God the luxuries of life, a warm shower! Never happier to sit in a sofa, maybe we have escaped civilization for too long. Give me a 6% beer, more than a rivers worth of a shower, and real bed and pillow and we pedaled to heaven it appears. A town with humans and stores, cell service and outlets, I think we've been lost on the backroads of a Utahan society for maybe one too many days. 

No more canned veggies, we are off to town for dinner, and with shades drawn we will sleep in to at least 7am, arising to maybe some real coffee and a more than leisurely breakfast of hash browns, pancakes, carrot cake for Ralph, and Oreilly's favorite paella fiasco. A hard days work, and many nights primitively camping under the cold starry sky pays off in the conveniences of city life.