March 29-31, 2012

Day 1:  Urban Assault.  Port-au-Prince -> Kenscoff; 16.5 miles; 5750 ft vertical.

Day 2:  Magic Mountains.  Kenscoff -> Parc la Visit -> Seguin; 17.5 miles; 4 MTN passes.

Day 3:  Caribbean Descent.  Parc la Visit -> Kabic Beach; 25 miles; 6000 ft downhill.

In early February, 2010 I remember flying over the mountains of southern Haiti and staring with astonishment at all the goat paths which covered the countryside in a dazzling labyrinth of singletrack.  For that moment I forget about all the “poor Haitians” and focused only on the beauty of the land and imagined how wonderful it must be to traverse the trails below.  Little did I realize how metaphorical that experience would be over the ensuing two years.  When we think of Haiti the most common visuals to pervade our mind’s eye are often images of extreme poverty.  These 30 second blips of crying mothers, starving children and collapsed buildings filled the television screens and the collective consciousness of the world following the devastating earthquake of January 12, 2010.  Many NGOs (non-government organizations), missionaries and humanitarians flooded the streets of Port-au-Prince to help rescue the country from anguish and despair.  We began to see Haiti as a country that needed saving from itself.  Even with our best intentions we have belittled the Haitian way of life as a standard of living inferior to our own “Western Ways”.  So often we feel pity for them because they struggle and live in such “poverty”.  But that begins to beg the question: What is true poverty?  Is one poor because they have few material possessions and lack electricity and running water?  What about if someone has everything they could ever need but they are so stressed out about work, credit card bills and maintaining a social status that depression and anxiety have overtaken their joy and happiness?  Which person would we consider impoverished?  In America our population comprises only 8% of the world’s 7 billion people but consumes nearly 50% of its resources.  From a material standpoint we are by far the richest society to ever set foot on earth; however we also have higher depression and suicide rates than any other country and anxiety disorders have become commonplace and almost expected with many occupations.  It begs one to ponder what we have gained and what we have lost in the process.

Running transcends race, wealth, social status, gender, religion and every other divider we use to separate ourselves from others.  We ceased to be “Heroes” (such a conceited manifestation of the ego) and began to enjoy Haiti for what it is: beautiful, wild and raw.  During the Haiti Ultra Marathon we hoped to showcase the wonders of this misunderstood “Land of Spirits” and open doors and minds alike from both our Americana runners and the locals whose villages we traversed along the way.  Our Run Haiti group consisted of 7 accomplished athletes with an impressive cumulative resume of marathon victories, ultra runs upward of 100 miles, 24 hr adventure races, mountain biking state championships and a myriad of other extreme experiences.  We began this epic odyssey beside the shattered National Palace and amidst thousands of displaced citizens in the Champ de Mars Tent Village of Port-au-Prince.  As the sun began to jettison its rays across the horizon we soaked in its strength and started the climb which would ascend 5,750 vertical feet across the next 16.5 miles.  About 3 miles into the ascent a runner flew by and made our crew of avid athletes look like a gang of strolling grandmas.  Olaf jumped on this sprinter’s heels and held on as long as he could.  The Haitian Hermes enjoyed the company and later revealed his identity as Astral, the fastest runner in Haiti.  We invited him to come along and join us for the next 2 days as we crossed the Magic Mountains and descended all the way to the Caribbean Sea.  “Pa gen pwoblem (no problem)” was his response and run with us he did.  Each day Astral set the pace and amazed us with his effortless stride and cheetah like speed.  Equally impressive was his lack of need for water and food.  Funny how these serendipitous “coincidences” seem to always fall into place when we open ourselves to the mystery of the universe and allow God to orchestrate the great comedy in which we all play.

Day 1: Urban Assault took less than 3 hrs to complete.  Jeanie and I averaged about 10:30 miles, which was pretty bomber for a course which only had 2 short flat sections and the rest was all uphill.  Day 2: Magic MTNs would be even more mind blowing as our group of 8 adventurers headed deeper into the Mon le Selle Range along the notorious Route Kenscoff.  The trade route is used primarily as a road/glorified trail through the mountains and allows hardworking Haitian women to transport their local produce to markets in the surrounding cities.  Nothing makes an ultra runner more humbled than struggling up a tough climb and being passed by a 60 year old woman carrying a 50 lb load of carrots on her head J.  The run was tough but the true challenge was getting the combustion engine powered rhino up the steep scree slopes of Tet Kayjacques.  Our driver, Dave Byrd, was super hardcore and his resolve was heightened even more after the rhino flipped over sideways along the treacherous rock gardens.

“The Haiti Ultra Marathon: Where even the SAG vehicles are not safe”.

“1, 2, 3, push”!!!  The tires spin as American ultra runners and Haitian farmers join forces to pour their strength into getting the machine up the next pitch.  Finally the tires grip and the rhino lurches forward, “Don’t stop!” we yell and run behind with outstretched hands on the tailgate trying to help with any extra energy we can muster.  In due time, we all reach the summit successfully and proceed to zig-zagging our way through the clandestine forest of the Parc la Visit National Park.  So few people (including Haitians) know about the mystique and majesty of Parc la Visit’s Magic Mountains; hopefully one day this area shall be a highly sought after ecotourism destination.  This would help to preserve this extremely fragile and unique ecosystem while simultaneously infusing capital into the local economy.  Currently the remaining forest is being cut down to provide firewood for needs of daily living.  Can’t really blame the people though as they have no access to alternative forms of fuel and are living along the foundational tiers of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.  After the jaunt through the pine forest we flowed down the trails of Seguin and ended our 17.5 mile journey with a celebration at the new Humanity First & Where the Stars Still Shine Bon Samaritan Primary School.  The school looks great and is almost ready for the 172 children to move in and start taking their classes in grand style.  Without a doubt this is now the nicest school on the Seguin Plateau and all the teachers and kids were ready to put on their dancing shoes.  Our tired legs became energized as the music rang out and the party began.  After exhaustion set in and a big meal filled our hungry bellies we were all ready to collapse.  We headed back to Winnie’s Parc la Visit Auberge and enjoyed the beauty and relaxation of this little oasis I affectionately refer to as the “Island in the Sky”.  Winnie has become a very close friend and it was great to have him be a part of this experience with us.  That night we feasted like kings and queens on lamb, spicy coleslaw (piklis) and rice as we sipped fresh peppermint tea picked fresh from the earth.

Day 3: Caribbean Descent.  All that stood in our path to the finish line was a 6,000 ft mountain and 25 miles of rock strewn road.  We knew the path was all downhill but the previous days had taken a toll on our bodies.  Everyone was tight, sore or suffering from dehydration.  The night before our most experienced ultra runner/ER nurse, Christophe Block, hooked up two fellow runners to IVs.  As we hit the trails on Saturday morning everyone was feeling better but we all knew it was wise to conserve our energy for the long run ahead.  Before last Christmas I had never run over 13 miles and even leading into this event my longest run was 20 miles.  My lack of running experience definitely had me a little nervous heading into the event, but I was constantly inspired by everyone’s strength, courage and tenacity.  On the way down the mountain we let our legs fly and did our best to let gravity take us home to SURF Haiti’s Kabic Beach finish line.  Throughout the descent we could see ourselves falling closer and closer towards the Caribbean Sea.  Once we reached the town of Peredo we dipped our heads in the babbling brook and Kyle (who was wisely carrying some Haitian Goudes) purchased us some much needed sacks of water.  We ran together through the dusty roads and hit pavement again in the coastal fishing village of Marigol.  Another mile and we collapsed under a shade tree along the Caribbean as the sea plunged into the coastline below.  Congratulating each other we laughed and joke and ate and regrouped 8 strong once again.  The final 5K push was part victory lap and part death march, but we knew the end was near.  With the finish line in sight we all triumphantly ran towards the sand and plunged in the Caribbean Sea to the sounds of cheering friends who came to celebrate this momentous occasion.

The beach was full of love: hugs, high fives and knuckles all around as we all splashed in the water with the innocent glee of a happy child.  All our determination and efforts were rewarded with a delicious BBQ chicken dinner with homemade sauce, fresh mangos, ginger rice and fresh piklis.  For 3 days we had joined together as one collective unit and engaged in an activity bigger than any of us.  Together we literally ran across the “Land of Spirits” as we traversed 59 miles of the most stunning scenery and rugged landscapes any of us had ever encountered.  This event started as a dream which became a reality and next year we are making it even bigger and better.  Come join the Haiti Ultra Marathon Team if you are prepared for a life changing experience of epic proportions.

2nd Annual Run Haiti Ultra Marathon will be  Jan 31 – Feb 2, 2013.

Day 1:  Urban Assault.  Port-au-Prince -> Furcy Lodge.  25K.  6000 ft vertical ascent

Day 2:  Magic Mountains.  Furcy -> Parc la Visit. 50K.  20 miles of trail running paradise.

Day 3:  Caribbean Descent.  Parc la Visit -> Kabic Beach. 20 miles.  6000 ft downhill.

In time I came to love this state of affairs again and felt myself slipping into a greater cause; a being far greater that I had lost sight of over the preceding weeks. I will not try to persuade you or myself that I am a good person or that I might occasionally perform acts of kindness. Notions such as good & bad seem to be values attributed by the viewer and often more a manifestation of circumstance than of character. Frequently I become frustrated by the overwhelming need of the mountain people I now live among. Whether the disturbance arises from the constant requests or from my inability to meet such needs has yet to be determined. What has occurred though over the past two weeks is nothing short of a metamorphosis of sorts. My feelings have evolved from futility to hope and after a few days of being back in the “Land of Spirits” I began to fall in love with this weird and wonderful place all over again. The beauty returned as the light began to overtake the darkness. So often this landscape of people and mountains is a reflection of my own inward self; an eternal mirror that echoes the deepest secrets of my soul.

Coming back this time was the harshest transition yet, but at least it was short as it was painful. Having my parents return with me the first week back was a great experience within itself. After one year they finally got a chance to see “my world” and now put faces and memories where only empty words existed before. Their support has always been so helpful and having them here to share my passion and frustration was invaluable. After a week they left having seen many sides of Haiti: the beautiful, the dreadful and everything in between. As they departed my brother Jeff came to visit along with his daughter, Tori, and several others whom I now call close friends. Things began flowing much more smoothly and everyone was extremely helpful around the clinic. This place is now cleaner than ever and might even soon resemble a home if we are not careful. Towards the end of the week we were all getting a bit tired and we definitely reached the exhaustion barrier as we arrived for dinner at the UN on Sat night about 9pm. As they departed Sunday morning, I picked up another team and the saga began all over again.

On Sat morning I ran into a good friend at the beach in Cayes-Jacmel and the half day rest did me good. It’s hard to relax around here with so much going on, but I have hope that these seeds we are planting will reach far into the future long after I am gone. The primary school we are beginning to build will be another legacy we shall leave behind and I am committed to making sure it is built before I go. I’ll be here till Christmas and then plan on returning to the US and beginning my Family Medicine residency next summer. Perhaps I might return to Haiti for a few months in the spring, or maybe I’ll finally go to Ghana (West Africa) and volunteer with Dr Addo. One year ago I was dreading a residency, but now I look forward to the opportunity. Often there are medical cases in which I wish I was equipped with a greater skill set to intervene. More than anything though I look forward to being responsible for less and will be happy to hand these heavy reins over to someone else. The Haitian doctor whom I’m working with is eager to accept more responsibilities and I’m praying that he will take the role that we (Kyle & I) have played over the past year. I am happy to be of service and a medium but I often grow tired as well. This seesaw game of life is quite the roller coaster ride that never seems to end. Thus is life in Haiti. It shall be as beautiful or dark as I choose to believe, may the heavens grant light and strength to stay the way and hold the path. As these thoughts float through my mind the words flow forth from my fingers and I sit amidst a cloud above the laughter of children; my mind content, my body weary and my heart hopeful.

We arise to the sound of Kelly Phillips bringing over a homemade breakfast.  Kelly was part of our original volunteer team to the Cloud Forest Medical Clinic last June and Haiti has been near and dear to her heart ever since.  An enormous fruit bowl was the quintessential compliment to fluffy pancakes and Christophe Block’s homemade granola.  After a delightful morning meal Kyle, Jeff and I proceeded towards my parent’s house at Hidden Springs Farm.  It was an honor to share the farm with the guys for the day; I only wish we could have stayed longer.  Kyle enjoyed a trail run while Jeff & I laughed together with my Mom as we watched “Due Date”.  The rest day was much needed and could not have lasted long enough.  Kyle treated us to a feast of Peanut Pad Thai and toasted French Bread with a sliver of mozzarella cheese and herbs (this appetizer has a fancy name but my limited culinary experience prevents me from sharing it with you at this time.  When I grew we thought microwave Campbell’s soup and Tony’s oven pizzas were a homemade meal .  Unfortunately we could not sit and fully relish Kyle’s culinary masterpiece.  Time was slipping away so we had to eat in the car as we rushed back to North Little Rock to for the Haitian Art Auction.  Jennifer (my sister) truly outdid herself and the event was beautiful.  Jenn had framed all the paintings herself and decorated the art gallery most elegantly.  For once I really wished that I would have dressed up to fit the occasion.  Everyone who attended had an excellent time and we raised $2,000 to donate towards the “Bisiklet for Haiti” Fundraising Tour.  I can’t express how grateful I am to my sister and all her friends for the hard work they put into this event to make it such a great success.  Special thanks also go to Justin, Rocky, Larry & Elaine Burton, Jeff & Deanna Lovelady and Greg Thompson’s Fine Art Gallery for making this special evening possible.

Stage 26:  North Little Rock -> Hicks Station, Arkansas   (106 miles)      

Early we rise so that we can make it in time to attend the Monthly Men’s Breakfast Fellowship at Jeff Love’s church.  Jeff Love is in the kitchen when we arrive, serving up hot biscuits & gravy.  He is a welcome sight in his man apron and radiating with a jovial mood which was a much needed reprieve for 3 weary bikers.  We are all glad to be there, especially myself who frequented this same church (Union Valley Baptist Church in Beebe, AR) during the formative years of my youth.  Many of my acquaintances, teachers and peers from high school are still in disbelief of the strange chain of events that led me to my current station in life.  I suspect they thought the odds equally high that I should wind up a delinquent.  Coming back 10 years later (how the time does fly by) and giving a presentation now on practicing medicine in Haiti and loving our fellow man is somewhat redemptive on a personal yet self indulgent level.  After an excellent dialogue with the men’s group and making a glutton of myself (in church, how ironic) at the breakfast table we load up in the vehicle and depart towards North Little Rock where we had stopped riding two days previous.  However the overpowering monsoon rains had other plans for us and diverted our route several times.  Even the “old-timers” could not ever recall this area flooding so badly.  After an hour+ detour we eventually arrived safely at my sister’s home.  I won’t lie, the greater part of me was still exhausted and secretly prayed that we would be flooded in and could avoid riding in this wretched weather.  The morning faded away but eventually we mounted up on our bikes only several hours past our intended departure time. The heavens parted and the rains temporarily stopped as the ride was underway.  Things went well enough for the first 20 – 30 miles and then two surprises came in rapid procession.  First our beloved Christophe Block went a bit cuckoo and actually decided to get out in this God forsaken storm system and ride alongside us.  Our spirits were immediately lifted until the 2nd surprise came in the form of a 50mph wind and pelting rain which threatened to blow us into the ditch and rip the soft skin from its weary two legged pedaling victims.  We took cover in a lack-luster gas station and I watched with curiosity as a man brought his woman of affection in for chicken gizzards.  I have grown fond of gas stations during this cross country odyssey as they provide shelter to the weary traveler.  Yet I still could not personally recall the apparent joy of a makeshift date to an establishment such as this.  My perceptions are so limited that I can only smile happily for this young couple.  Shortly thereafter the rains let up and we decided to brave the elements.  So there we went the four of us side by side in groups of two like animals from Noah’s Ark.  In Brinkley our beloved benefactor/”grandpa”, Marvin Demuth, came to meet us and take over the SAG (Support And Guidance) duties from my Dad.  Soon thereafter the traffic and the torrential downpour eased up.  We went on to somehow ride over 100 miles through one of the most barbaric and brutal stages yet.  Finishing the day’s voyage was pure relief and joy as loaded up in the van with Marvin and held on tight as we laughed with a delirious delight and he barreled through the rain soaked streets towards his home in West Memphis.  We spent the evening with his lovely wife, hilarious brother-in-law (Dick) and his awesome grandchildren (Justin & Gloria).  A friend of Kyle’s named Emma also came and joined us for a delicious Papa John’s pizza dinner (at this point we had tried almost every pizza imaginable, except for the scrumdiliumpious Papa John’s).  One of our favorite parts of the whole cross country trip is staying with different families and friends along the way.  Their collective hospitality has helped us cleanse ourselves of the cynicism and futility which sometimes comes with working in an ever difficult environment like Haiti.  We have rediscovered that people are truly good and that the universe is secretly conspiring to help us all in our journey towards the light (maybe that’s what God is).

Stage 27:  Hicks Station, AR -> Memphis, TN -> Walnut, MS   (102 miles)

Some mornings you just don’t want to get up and ride.  This sentiment is exponentially escalated when you felt like a wet dog for hours & hours the day before and today’s forecast calls for “more heavy rain”.  “Yeah”, nothing like a satirical statement of enthusiasm to help oneself gain courage for a task they have no desire to complete.  Yes it was one of those mornings.  At least Marvin was taking us “Bisiklet Boys” out for a great breakfast spread at Cracker Barrel.  This country restaurant always seems to be the setting for Marvin and me to get together and talk.  We first met at a Cracker Barrel in central Arkansas almost a year ago.  Marvin spent years working in Haiti digging wells with World Christian Relief Fund and even set up the very first satellite communications system for Dr. Paul Farmer and PIH (Partners in Health).  Since our first meeting Marvin and I have grown to be great friends.  We have a mutual admiration for each other’s passion to help others and to be totally honest; I even consider him a “grandpa” now.  Ironically I met Marvin only 2 days after my grandpa passed away last fall and Marvin has since filled that void left in my life.  During our first rendezvous I never dreamed that we would work together so closely to help the people of rural Haiti.  Anyways here we are with Marvin as our guide and his brother-in-law, Dick, as the consummate side-kick.  Looking out the window one can only see about 50 feet from the van; today might be as dangerous as the oppressive weather is unpleasant.  Preparing ourselves for the mental battle ahead we mount our bikes like a two-wheeled cavalry but the winds and driving rain soon overtake our spirits of adventure.  Soaked to the bone we are within minutes but there is nowhere to go but forwards.  Onwards we pedal as the miles slowly grind away.  By some miraculous miscalculation or time/space warp the signs suddenly go from “West Memphis 22 miles” to “West Memphis 8 miles”.  None of us are really sure what has happened but we pray for the latter.  Soon enough we are rolling through West Memphis and ready to traverse the mighty Mississippi River.  Only problem is there are only two bridges and neither is even remotely conducive to bicycles.  During our approach we see flooding backwaters sprawling out for miles in every direction.  Homes are underwater and the destruction is evident at every glance.  A ray of hope does shine through the darkness as just before the bridge we see Justin Hill (Marvin’s grandson) waiting for us in his pickup truck; what a lifesaving saint he turned out to be.  Justin followed closely behind our bikes giving us much needed protection as we sped across the I-55 Bridge as fast as our wheels would carry us.  At one point I remember either Kyle or Jeff saying, “Feel free to go as fast as you want”.  That was a nice way of saying “Ride faster and get us out of here, NOW!”  The crossing was terrifying and quite possibly the most dangerous point in the whole cross country expedition (well maybe not quite as dangerous as riding into Wichita along the freeway at night with only blinky red lights and our prayers for protection).  18 wheelers blew by shaking our feeble bikes in their wake of wind and water.  Without Justin as a guard we would have all surely been crushed.  The whole experience was surreal and felt a bit like the old school computer game “Frogger”.  As we entered Memphis, Tennessee a great relief pervaded our bodies and we happily rode through the ghettos of Crump Ave.  In time we would meander through the back streets of this “City of Blues” and eventually come out on the other side unscathed.  Much to our happiness and surprise the rain eventually stopped and the Sun began to shine.  We made better time than anticipated and decided to push on through to the next town of Mt Pleasant.  When we finally arrived it was only to discover that this “town” consisted only of one lone gas station; nowhere in sight to rest our weary heads for the night.  So we rolled on, the rural village of Walnut, Mississippi was only 30 miles away and we were bound and determined to make it there before nightfall.  The roads became less congested and turned skyward for rollers on end.  Surprised and reinvigorated by the elevation gains and the promise of a warm meal we rolled pressed on.  That evening my Aunt Penny and cousin, Heather, came from Cordova (Memphis suburb) to take us out for dinner.  They even brought my “niece” Tatum for the special occasion.  So now that we were freshened up, famished and ready for a great meal where should we go?  Well there are two options in Walnut, Miss: Subway and the local joint Burgers & Stuff (no joke).  We opted for the local mom & pop restaurant and ate lots of “Stuff”.  Jeff and I had true Southern B-B-Q and Kyle had a burger if I recall.  We also all had chocolate shakes.  It was one big happy family with my aunt, cousin, niece, adopted grandpa and his brother-in-law sharing a meal and stories together.  Not getting to see my cousin, aunt and niece near as often as I would like made the occasion even more special for me personally.  Life on the open road can often be stranger than fiction, but having family around certainly makes it feel just right.

Stage 28:  Walnut, Mississippi -> Decatur, Alabama   (119 miles)

Starting the day off with a scrumptious Subway breakfast pleasantly surprised all our taste buds.  Long have I been a fan of their delectable subs, but never before had I ventured to the realm of flatbread with eggs and bacon.  A modest price too, which is always a bonus when you eat as much as we do.  With the early start and beautiful weather the miles began to roll away quickly.  Our destination for the day was Decatur, Alabama but our legs felt strong so we made relatively quick work of the long century (119 miles).  As we crossed from Mississippi to Alabama the roads went from steep little rollers to long grinding climbs and gradual descents.  Much of the time we rode through beautiful forests so it made the ride even better.  Every so often Marvin and Dick would stop alongside the road and take photographs.  They reminded me of Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon from Grumpy Old Men (neither of them were grumpy but they were such a great team and so much fun to be around).  I can only pray that I have half the vitality and humor of Marvin & Dick when I reach their age.  As we neared Decatur the destruction from the devastating string of recent tornados began to become sadly apparent.  Entire homes were destroyed and debris were scattered alongside the road and in neighboring trees.  We began to feel almost guilty for having so much fun and riding our bikes while there were so many of our brothers and sisters suffering from the recent barrage of storms.  Eventually we passed through the tornado damage and reached our destination of Decatur.  Once there we tried to find the cheapest hotel in town with continental breakfast, but after getting lost and riding an extra 5 miles we returned to the local Motel 6 and said our bittersweet good-byes to Marvin & Dick.  They needed to return to Memphis and we still had another 500 miles to go before reaching the Atlantic.  Special thanks to all of our SAG (Support And Guidance) Volunteers, you truly made our journey much more enjoyable.

Stage 29:  Decatur -> Gadsden, Alabama   (79 miles)                                                                                               

Next door to the Motel 6 was a Waffle House which brings with it many memories of my father.  Waffle House was always his favorite restaurant; I think it reminded him of his days as a short order cook while he was in high school.  Waffle House reminds me of high school as well but for a completely different reason; it was the only place open at 2-3 am on party nights in the little town of Beebe, Arkansas which was the setting of my adolescent formative years.  Ah, many fond memories indeed, and now we get to make new ones as we continue our odyssey across this beautiful and expansive country.   I opt for the chocolate chip and pecan waffles with eggs and hashbrowns on the side.  Chocolate and pancakes just go together like peaches & cream or Haitian rice & beans.  With a power breakfast like this how could the day go wrong?  Well the weather did not disappoint as we were blessed with sunny skies and miles upon miles of sprawling hills surrounded by lush green deciduous forests.  As much as I love the mountains of the West there is something magical about the green flora of the Southeastern US which always makes me feel at home.  The ride itself was largely uneventful excluding the massive tornado damage that we continued to encounter along the way.  Such an utter tragedy to behold, and to know that we just missed its fury was a humbling state of affairs.  As we rode by the giant oaks snapped like toothpicks we only imagined the awesome power that nature possesses and inflicts at will.  Seeing the broken homes was heartwrenching, but seeing neighbors helping neighbors brought an inspirational light into the whole situation.  It made me truly appreciate (maybe for the first time) how truly impressive and wonderful our infrastructure is here in the US.  If this natural phenomenon had occurred in a developing country like Hait, the debris would surely have remained for years to come (as is evidenced by the rubble that still lines the busy streets of Port-au-Prince).  Life here in the USA is just so much easier on almost every level; I’m not sure how most Americans would respond if thrust into a state of survival.  The flipside is that we have become so comfortable that we often lose our need for others or for God.  Everything happens at the flip of a switch and food is never more than a phone call away.  Imagine even having to stand up and walk towards the television to manually change the channel, this predicament would be considered unacceptable by our spoiled society built upon consumerism and instant gratification.  In rural Haiti no one even has electricity never mind a television set.  When the Sun goes down people go to bed.  The body falls into a more natural circadian rhythm and people rely on community for their best chance of making it through another day.  Neither location seems better nor worse, each place has its own strengths and weaknesses.  There are many things that Haitian society can learn from us and at least as many things that we could in return discover from the Haitian people.  Strength of will and perseverance being at the top of my list; you only think you’re tough until you get outrun by a barefoot child or are outworked by an old woman carrying a 50 lb bundle of carrots on her head.  Some Americans do possess this strength of spirit and we were destined to meet one that night in Gadsden, Alabama.  Jimmie Wetzel had discovered our “Bisiklet for Haiti” Tour on the internet and was planning on hosting us for a large B-B-Q celebration and fundraiser as we rode through town.  But only days before the event was to take place Jimmie was hit on his road bike by a large K-9.  The dog wiped Jimmie out at almost 30 mph and the damage to Jimmie’s body was enough to land him in the local hospital for several days.  Once in town we found the hospital and went by for a semi-surprise visit.  Jimmie & his wife were so happy to see us and we all enjoyed outstanding fellowship together in that little hospital room for well over an hour.  If I am half the man that Jimmie was with his positive attitude and encouraging words then Ithink I can rest at peace.  Had a rabid dog hit me I would have been very angry I should think, but not Jimmie.  His quite optimism served as a clairvoyant reminder that “Wise men count their blessings while fools count their problems”.  After our rendezvous at the hospital we met up with Jeff’s old Calvin College roommate, Peter Tuuk.  Tuuk was an awesome guy and joined us for dinner at the local catfish house.  This was Jeff’s first time ever to eat the Southern delicacy and we all definitely enjoyed the never ending plates of cornbread and hush puppies.

And an appetizer for the last and final Blog Roll on “Bisiklet for Haiti”

Stage 30:  Gadsden, Alabama -> Silver Comet Trail -> ATL  (116 miles)

Rest Day in the “Dirty South”

Stage 31:  Atlanta -> Crawfordsville, Georgia   (102 miles)

Stage 32:  Crawfordsville -> Girard, Georgia   (96 miles)

Stage 33:  Girard, Georgia -> Walterboro, South Carolina   (77 miles)

Stage 34:  Walterboro -> Charleston -> Atlantic Ocean   (60 miles)

3,100 miles from LA -> SC, 37 days, 34 stages, 14 centuries, 12 states, countless memories…

Sleeping in feels so good. I make my way up the steps and arrive to the lovely site of breakfast. French toast and eggs dot the landscape and we settle on the couch to conclude the remainder of Transformers II. None of us really want to leave but we realize the road awaits us. A persistent drizzle makes the weather appear like it might be our adversary for the day, time will tell. Before departing Wichita, we ride over to the local bike shop and Kyle purchases a new chain. This gives Jeff and I a chance to tune up our bikes and relax a bit more. Yesterday’s 10 hr “Easter Death March” has left us all physically and mentally wasted. As we leave the bike shop the rain picks up in intensity. Before long we are making our way through puddles of water which cover the road like small lakes. We are soaked, tired and there is no reprieve in sight; we cannot get out of Wichita soon enough. Hours trudge by and eventually we arrive at a rest stop about 40 miles into the ride. The rain has stopped but we are still wet so we proceed to dry out our jerseys and shorts with the bathroom hand dryers. No doubt a funny situation would arise if an unsuspecting gentleman were to enter and catch us air drying our chamois with the warm stream of air from these little machines. After a nice break we mount up on the bikes again and descend a nice downhill for several miles. I didn’t know Kansas had hills; apparently we are getting closer to the Ozarks. As we weave our way through more and more trees we are so grateful to be departing the windblown plains of Kansas (our most difficult state yet). That evening we arrive in the little country town of Fredonia. Two options for food: a Mexican Restaurant or The Ranch House. We head downtown for some country cooking and are delighted to find a dinner special loaded with chicken, potatoes, Texas toast and a salad bar. The meal is delicious and we vow to return in the morning for breakfast. Rain has started up again since we started eating so we opt for lodging at the $40 Cox Motel. Often you get what you pay for in life and this room was no exception. We had just enough space for us and the bikes (literally) but it was dry and had wifi.

Stage 22: Fredonia, Kansas -> Diamond, Missouri (115 miles)

“You’re gonna need a wheel barrel to bring in that plate of pancakes” the cowboy said jokingly. Truth was he wasn’t far off. When the waitress presented the hubcap size plate with 3 steaming hot cakes on top I knew I was in trouble. Then she outdid herself by bringing an accompanying bowl full of fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Even to think of it now makes me hungry all over again. The challenge had been laid and all the farmers were eager to see if I was up to the task. Pacing myself they made a few more playful jokes and I did my best to impress. About halfway through the stack of pancakes I decided it would be wiser to save the rest for lunch then to try and prove myself to all the Fredonia locals. Belly bursting at the seams and still a meal left over; we waddled out the door and saddled up on the bikes for another day of freedom in the saddle. The roads were pleasant and we made good time through the Flint Hills and eventually crossed into Missouri. I called up my mountain biking friend, Gary Lowden, and let him know we were getting close. Gary met us on a busy street and showed us the short cut to his home along some flooded back country roads. We were so grateful when we finally arrived and were greeted with incredible hospitality from the whole family. This was undoubtedly one of our favorite nights of the entire “Bisiklet for Haiti” odyssey. We ate pizza, had cold brews and relished some of Carrie’s homemade blueberry muffins and goat cheese salad. Kyle & Jeff got some major exposure to our beloved sport of mtn biking as well. The Lowdens revealed to us their “Bike Lair” downstairs and we all gawked at the crazy riders in the ROAM video performing their art amid two wheels. Some of scenes from Moab & Sun Valley were familiar and my heart began to yearn for the trail once more. Splendid fellowship and kinder people we could not have found. Sincere thanks to Gary, Carrie, Spencer & Zach Lowden.

Stage 23: Diamond, Missouri -> Eureka Springs, Arkansas (82 miles)

Another one of those mornings when we just didn’t want to leave. Carrie and I sat in the kitchen discussing life and it was apparent that she had become a friend herself and would no longer be thought of as Gary’s wife. Speaking of Gary, today was his birthday and I was so glad his business trip got cancelled so we could all hang out last night. We’ve gotten to be good friends over the past few years by both competing in the same epic races such as Syllamo’s Revenge, Ouachita Challenge, etc… I’ve seen his kids grow up over the years as well; so being able to spend time in their home was truly a great honor. By the time we finally departed it was almost noon and we were hoping to catch a pocket of nice weather nestled in between thunderstorms to our East and our West. Recent flooding had set record levels and we were not even sure if our route to Eureka Springs would be passable. Down the road we rolled and opted for the scenic route through the Mark Twain National Forest. As we entered the Ozark Mountains the roads became twisty and our spirits soared. At some points it was like we were on a roller coaster that would never end. “Welcome to the Natural State” I shouted with glee as we crossed over the Arkansas line. Felt so good to be home again; the more I travel the more I learn to appreciate the US and Arkansas in general. Trees lined up on both sides of the street and the hills become more and more prominent. Soon enough we were rolling into the outskirts of the Bohemian village of Eureka Springs. This has been one of my favorite Arkansas towns for many years and is truly a hidden gem of the South. When we set the route for the cross country tour this artsy little community was a must stop. My friend, Corey West, volunteered to put us up in his home for the night and we just had one last steep climb before we arrived. Jeff was pulling the BOB trailer full of gear and had every reason to get off and walk. Instead of being sensible we yelled words of encouragement, “Stand up and climb!” He cleaned the hill in miraculous fashion and the exertion was evident on his face. A few minutes later we were greeted by Corey, his dad and another friend Dave Renko (Eureka Springs Fat Tire Festival Guru). We exchanged stories in the garage and then headed over for some mouth watering Southern Style B-B-Q. Jeff & I had been craving this for a while and the time to dig in had finally come. Kyle enjoyed the meal thoroughly as well and we were all living it up. That evening we returned to Corey’s house and watched some his insane Speed Vision motorcycle racing highlight reels on YouTube. Dave, Corey & I put our heads together and created the ultimate Ozark Mountain Road Ride. The only question was could it be done. I asked the guys, “On the difficulty scale do you want tomorrow to be a 7 or a 10?” Both were content to leave this decision to my discretion. We opted for the 10, tomorrow we embark on what might just be the greatest stage of the tour yet.

Stage 24: Eureka Springs -> Moccasin Gap, Arkansas (106 miles)

Eureka’s warm and gracious hospitality have been the perfect introduction to Arkansas and I’m proud that we have traveled this path. We start the morning off in fine fashion with a gourmet country breakfast at Myrtie Mae’s. Then Corey takes us over to his dad’s bicycle shop, Adventure Mountain Outfitters (www.adventuremountainoutfitters.com) and we pick up Jeff’s bike which just received a little tune-up TLC. My parents and David & Rain Blaisus rendezvous with us at the shop and we greet each other affectionately. We are almost a month into the tour and I’ve been able to ride with my Dad in Colorado & Kansas but this is the first time I’ve seen my Mom. She and I were always so close growing up; it is truly an honor to get to share something as memorable as this fundraising ride across the country with her as well. Dad & David ride with us throughout the morning and the ladies sag with the vehicles. Every 15 miles we stop for the well deserved cookie break and soak in the adventure at hand. Having David join us and getting my Dad back in the saddle definitely lifted our spirits and inspired us greatly throughout the day. Plus the scenic beauty through the Ozark MTNs turns out to be everything we could have ever hoped for and more. Along the way we traversed multiple mountain passes and a road full of twist and turns which seemed to be made for cyclists. We also experienced our steepest climb and steepest downhill of the entire journey (Colorado included). Climbing the pass from Poncha to Jasper allows us to feel like veterans of the Tour de France; it was like Lance, Contador & Schleck jockeying for position and passing each other around every turn. We all pushed hard and tested each other’s resolve; our strength has grown tremendously over the past month and the mountain proved a playground of sorts. This ride through the Buffalo River Valley was unforgettable and proved to be on our “Bisiklet for Haiti” Top 3 Stage List. That afternoon we would make the last long ascent out of Jasper heading South on Hwy 7. At the pinnacle of the mountain we pulled our bikes over and shared pizza and laughs as we sat in lawn chairs and peered over the beautiful valley below. Our legs began to catch up with us at the 80 mile mark but we still had much pedaling to do before calling it a day. Finally we reached Mack’s Pines Cabins in Mocassin Gap (a favorite of my Mom when she goes horseback riding in the area) and got ourselves a hot shower. Afterwards we loaded up in the van and headed to the nearest town to find food. I must admit, riding 60 mph in the vehicle felt unsettling after 3 ½ weeks aboard our bicycles. Once in the town neighboring town of Dover we discovered the Buccaneer Restaurant and indulged in Buccaneer Burgers, fries, shakes and ice cream. If you ever find yourself in this neck of the woods I recommend stopping by for a bite to eat. My parents had woken up about 5am that morning and my Dad was in no condition to drive home so I took Kyle & Jeff back to the cabin then drove my parents home as well. Mom & I got a chance to talk and catch up on the way which was really nice. It seems that whenever I come back to the States I’m always so overbooked that we often don’t get an opportunity to hang out as much as I would like. I’m sure Kyle feels the same way about seeing his family when he goes home. Both of us have been living in Haiti for the past year and the experience has covered both ends of the spectrum, from the highest highs to the lowest lows. Something about being around family and close friends again seem to help everything make sense again.

Stage 25: Moccasin Gap -> North Little Rock, Arkansas (97 miles)

Mom and I wake up early at the farm and head back to Mocassin Gap to meet up with the rest of the “Bisiklet Boys”. They are finishing up their breakfast and coffee when we arrive. Soon we are on the road again and are trying to make it to Conway by 2pm. The local college (University of Central Arkansas) is having a little welcome party for us downtown and helping to raise donations as well. Because of our relatively early start I feel fairly confident that we should be able to make it on time. What I never expected is that we would arrive over an hour ahead of schedule. Then again I did not anticipate that Christophe Block & Erik Leamon would meet us in Dover and pull us all the way to Conway at 20+ mph in their draft streams. The last 30 mile stretch was at a peloton pace and I was never so happy to reach Conway in all my life. Maybe the most impressive part of the whole ride was watching Christophe explode with power atop his steel singlespeed; I was not even aware that a SS road bike could go so fast. Once we arrived in Conway it was all cheers and we were greeted by my awesome sister (Jennifer), my parents, Deanna, Tori, Jay Sterling, Curtis Racher, Doug Voss and many Business students from UCA. Icing on the cake came in the form of pizza from Zaza’s which was out of control delicious. After relaxing in the grass at Walgreen’s in Conway we mounted up again for the day’s final push to North Little Rock. Before we departed I decided to swap out my tires and put something a litter faster on my bike (I had been struggling at times to keep up with this studly crew of bikers when we went blasting away at high speeds). My bike on the other hand was having none of it and we proceeded to flatten 3-4 tubes before Erik’s magic bike shop touch finally got me straightened out again. If you are in Conway, Arkansas definitely stop by his shop The Ride (www.therideonline.com) and tell him we sent you. Throughout the whole 3,100 mile cross country epic I only had 1 flat, no other mechanicals, but I spent an hour in that Walgreen’s parking lot trying to get my original tires to mount up again before Eric came along and saved the day (thanks Brother). I guess that was my bad bike mojo for trying to change out tires that been virtually perfect for over 2,000 miles. After the tire fiasco finally concluded we rolled out of Conway with two new riders: my cousin Jay Sterling and fellow Bell & CO MTN Biking (www.bellandco-mountainbiking.org) teammate Curtis Racher. This was Jay’s first group ride on a road bike so we taught him all kinds of cool skills like drafting, etc… He learned quickly and we rode as a pack all the way to North Little Rock. After Jay turned off we headed to Jenn’s (my sister) house to drop off the bikes then loaded in her car and headed directly to Moe’s Burritos for another knockout meal. My favorite is the Art Vandalay loaded with tofu, mango, veggies and cilantro with black beans and rice but it’s really hard to go wrong with a two pound burrito. After his 140 mile record setting singlespeed ride, Christophe even bought burritos for us (what a friend). To cap off the day’s activities, that evening we attended the Arkansas Travelers minor league baseball game. The Travs gave us free tickets and we originally planned to set up a fundraiser booth, but by the time we got there we just wanted to yell at the umpire, heckle the opposing team and be like normal people watching a game without having to explain ourselves and answer so many questions. It was a much needed break from living in Haiti and becoming a mini-celebrity (and I do emphasize the word mini) when you return home. On the way back to the car some drunken guy called Jeff a “Yankee Biscuit” which really made me laugh; I still don’t really know what that means but the nickname stuck.

A rest day was much needed and our legs have regained some strength from the recent assault across the most mountainous state in the lower 48. My dad will be joining us for today’s ride and his excitement is palpable. We mount up and roll out across the Bohemian streets of Manitou Springs; its eclectic shops and people watch us float by knowing not whether we are coming or going. Next we glide through the busy streets of Colorado Springs and I can only imagine how the executives on the 20th floor of the metal towers above might be looking out of their glass cathedrals with longing at the snowy mountain peaks in the distance. Surely they are proud of the office and position they have attained if life but I wonder to myself if they have not traded the mountains for the view. This is for each to decide for themselves, we all have our own path to follow in life. Our trail leads East but every few miles we look back over our shoulders to watch Pike’s Peak and the Front Range slowly disappear into the distance. Bittersweet emotions penetrate our beings and we ride into vast grasslands so different from what we have seen before. Something about the mountains captivates one’s soul; maybe it is the romantic notion that we feel apart of something so much bigger than ourselves. Like an awakened religion one can now touch, the experience is sacred because we are no longer in control. We have conceded to the majesty of the mountain, we cannot dominate and control such an austere environment. Here we are humble visitors and wish only to remain in awe. For a moment our opportunities are endless and the self-imposed restrictions of the world have been left at lower altitudes for those less willing to climb to the highlands of the mind. As the “Magic Mountains” of Colorado say good-bye we ride ever further into the flatlands of the Great Plains. For miles and miles we rode on as a pack of four wolves roaming across the open grasslands. Kyle, Jeff and I place my dad in our slipstream pocket and he rode like a true champion of the road. For 60 strong miles he paced with us young bucks before wisely deciding to call it a day. Shortly after he quit riding the roads turned for the worse and a slight headwind sprang up which slowed us considerably. Thank goodness Jeff Love was running the sag wagon that day because we road through a inhospitable 50 mile section of tarmac with no gas stations and no water, even the creeks were bone dry. We pondered how the Native Americans could have ever grown crops and survived in such a barren countryside. Undoubtedly they were much tougher than us, for we were pretty much wiped out before the century mark. As we sat in lawn chairs and chowed down on Snickers bars we looked across the odd alien landscape. Perhaps it was the heat with a hint of dehydration and hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) but the scene hinted of a surreal post apocalyptic movie and we had become the stars. The settlement of Kit Carson (named after the infamous mountain man turned military commander) was only 20 miles away and a new road presented itself to lead the way. We pulled our weary bodies towards town with a sluggish determination and made Jeff Love agree that he had to ride with us to Eads, Colorado to cap off the day if we made it that far. True to his word Jeff Love was suited up and ready roll by the time we made it to Kit Carson. I won’t lie part of me really wanted to stay in that quaint little town. I was hungry and tired; plus we just met a fellow free spirited bicycle touring aficionado by the name of Doug Adams. Doug had been riding 60 miles a day since last October (for over 6 months now) and was en route to completing his goal of riding across all 50 US states. His bicycle tour was inspired by the men and women of the armed forces and his bright American flag jersey and shorts would make any veteran shed a small tear of pride. This man we would affectionately come to know as Captain America collectively inspired us all. So there we were 4 bikers with no excuse but to push on. Jeff Love wasted no time and sprinted to the head of the pack, pulling us like an 18-wheeler through the lonesome prairie. About the 130 mile mark everyone started to hit the wall. Jeff got dizzy while riding and had to rapidly consume ~700 calories to get adequate supplies of sugar back to his brain. Kyle did some swerving along the rumble strip and was running low on fuel as well. Jeff Love and I were trying our hardest to keep the pedals spinning and we collectively wheeled into the tiny town of Eads, Colorado without many ounces of energy to spare. Dad grabbed us a table at the first diner in town and we appropriately proceeded to devour 4 large pizzas and a side of breadsticks. Something about exhaustion makes food taste that much better and we savored every morsel from every bite. That night we got some cheap hotel rooms and attempted to watch some popular sitcoms (Parks & Rec and 30 Rock). Jeff and I were so whacked out from the exhaustive day that we couldn’t tell if it was the TV shows or us that were so weird. We looked at each other and laughed hysterically; Kyle laughed at us because we were laughing so much. It truly was a maniacally quintessential ending to a manic day of riding. Needless to say this has been our biggest mileage day of the entire “Bisiklet for Haiti” Tour (total mileage=139 miles, ride time for the day=10 hrs, estimated energy burned per rider=7,500 calories, having Dad & Jeff there=priceless).

Stage 18: Eads, Colorado ~> Scott City, Kansas (102 miles)

We slowly roll out of bed and make our way next door to the local greasy spoon diner. Dad was already there sipping on his morning coffee and looking fresh as a bluebird; Jeff Love and I are a bit more fatigued. We order breakfast and I start digging into to a delicious omelet and hashbrowns as Kyle & Jeff stumble in. Jeff looks pale as a zombie and like he was just unearthed him from a crypt. We all eat a king’s feast and Jeff begins to look like his normal self again by the time his meal is done. Yesterday took a lot out of us all and no one is too anxious to starting the day’s ride. Just before we depart I pull a goathead thorn from my tire and it hisses air and begins to go flat. Ooohhhh, my first flat tire of the whole trip and it happens in the parking lot! Oh well, better here then out in the middle of nowhere I figure. Once we finally do start riding the winds begin to blow in our favor. The pleasant push from behind combined with the smooth roads below allow us to make quick time and rally off a pace of 20 mph. Dad rocks it out in fine fashion and hangs on for 3 ½ hrs and 70 miles before being satiated for the day. Jeff Love wants in on the action too so he gets a headstart and starts pedaling away. We try to close the gap and reel him in but he is just too fast. Our legs start to blow up a bit so we pull it back to a comfortable pace and roll into Scott City a few minutes after Jeff Love’s breakaway victory. We check Kyle’s computer and are very pleased with our 102 mile sub 5 hr century. Averaging 20 mph for an entire day is no small feat and we are all pretty pumped but also a bit tired. Jeff and I vote to go 25 more miles to Dighton, but the wind turns on us and everyone else is opting for a hotel and Pizza Hut in Scott City. We wheel down to the local Best Western and the boys hit the hot tub for a well-deserved soak. I walk outside and sit in the grass hoping to collect my thoughts. I am happy to give (usually J) but tend to have more trouble accepting gifts of kindness from others, particularly if those gifts are money related and I feel like said gift is a luxury item. I realize that by not allowing someone to give me something I am truly robbing them of the reward of feeling good about the kind deed they intended. Still my mind can not help but feel like I’m taking too much with all these hotel rooms and nice meals (a nice meal is $7-10 per person for us, I realize that is quite frugal to most people in the US but people often eat for $10 a week in places like Haiti). A PB&J tides my hunger over and helps me feel a bit better about my consumption. I’m starting to realize that spending money stimulates the economy by helping businesses, which in turn provide additional jobs to people thus improving the quality of life for many. However I still can’t fully embrace the consumerism running rampant in our culture today, all the material excess is just too much to handle (says the guy riding the tricked out titanium bike). I must laugh at myself for I am equally guilty; although I have made a conscious effort to detach myself from all material possessions and live a selfless life I’ve never truly fully committed to these ideals. Maybe it is my fear of giving all that holds me back, it confines me like an invisible chain. What will I eat, where will I live, the self doubts cripple my soul’s ability to truly free itself from the confines of the physical vessel. I’m reminded of a Bible quote: “So do not worry saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’… Your heavenly father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. I know this is so true and full of wisdom, yet I have not been able to fully commit up to this point in my life. It’s frustrating to go so far then be too scared to jump once one finally finds the infinite waterfall. I guess the bike acts as a substitute for true freedom for me. It acts as a medium by which I can experience that sensation of liberation while simultaneously remaining in control. Oh to be in control (to fool ourselves into becoming Gods of our own tiny universes), what a subtle yet crippling disease this plague has left on the mind. That being said we go to Pizza Hut and Jeff experiences a similar internal struggle. He really wants the salad bar but won’t get it because my dad and Jeff Love are paying for dinner and Jeff doesn’t want them to spend any more money. “Take only what you need”, I am inspired by Jeff’s small act of devotion to the morals he values so deeply and I hope that I’ll do the same next time I’m placed in the ever difficult situation of taking what I want vs. what I need.

Stage 19: Scott City ~> Larned, Colorado (120 miles)

We wake up and the air is cold, too cold. We are also tired, too tired. Jeff Love gets some morning photos and Kyle’s halfhearted “yay” is smothered in subtle sarcasm and says it all. None of us are excited about today’s ride. We’ve done two centuries (100 mile rides) in a row and another big day is looming. Slowly we climb atop our wheels of folly and proceed forward to battle on another day. A fierce headwind attacks us and blows cold air currents that penetrate all the way to our bone marrow. It is difficult to get the bikes up to speed and Dad and I fall behind. Kyle & Jeff slow up and we group together in a tight rhombus formation. Kyle and Jeff pulling in the front, me shielding my father from the defiant crosswind and Dad sitting in the 4-hole shielded from all angles. We crank the pedals forward in a grueling motion; there is very little chatter and my spirits are low. Seeing my dad fight through the discomfort and never complain helps me to be brave and battle on. We strike up a conversation and the miles begin to tick away quicker and quicker. By the time we arrive in Dighton 2 hrs and 24 miles later, I’m about ready to call it a day. The ride is no fun and I’m honestly tired and feeling a bit crabby and miserable. Dad jokes about stopping there and taking the sag wagon with Jeff Love. I don’t blame him; truth is I want to stop riding too and would if we weren’t so dedicated to riding every single mile across America. There is a nice gas station and we take refuge inside to hide from the harsh winds. Kyle gets his “Kyle Denison Special” (½ coffee ½ hot chocolate), while Jeff scores an impressive been & beef burrito with chilies on board. He would later go on to credit the burrito for giving him the strength and determination to complete such a difficult ride. Jeff was so inspired that after completion of the “Bisiklet for Haiti” Cross Country Tour, he is now planning to pass on his surgical residency in Portland and instead pursue a career as a bike bum for Big Star Bean & Beef Burritos. As part of the sponsorship package, Jeff is not allowed to shave his beard (Jeff’s fiancée, Christina, and her grandmother are very excited about this contract clause). Just kidding, but I really do think Christina’s grandma was a big fan of the beard. That’s all she could talk about, how excited she was to have this hippiesque bearded man who’s wearing yellow spandex and riding across the country on a bicycle come and marry her sweet little granddaughter. The mere mental image makes me chuckle inside. Oh sweet granny, your innocent little girl has fallen in love with a rugged mountain man. To be totally honest I don’t even know Christina yet, but I’m totally excited for these two star-crossed lovers. After spending 24 hrs a day with Jeff for the past month it is obvious that he is head over heels in love. Jeff is a top-notch dude and Christina sounds equally incredible from everything he’s told me about her. They are getting married later this month after the bike tour and I would love to be there, but it’s about time for me to go back to Haiti and take care of business at the Cloud Forest Medical Clinic. Gotta throw one last shout out to Christina, she just ran the Eugene, Oregon Marathon in 2:49. I know that’s crazy legs fast; I can barely ride the bike at that speed! Ok, ok, my mind wanders yet again. Let’s get back to the adventure at hand. After hiding in the gas station for what seemed like an eternity we forced ourselves back outside to the fury that awaited us. To our surprise dad remounted his bike and took off without saying a word. We followed suit and were all impressed by his tenacity. For 70 more miles he rode alongside your beloved 3 Amigos aka “Bisiklet Boys”. Finally the pavement gave way to a 10 mile rumble strip near Rush Center, Kansas. We tried to ride the smooth shoulder but in some places there was none and we were pelted with a barrage of unpleasant gyrations. Luckily the wind let up a bit and we were turning off this God forsaken road. Dad had enough and we all congratulated him for an incredible day of riding in some very harsh conditions (he wound up riding 220 miles over 3 days across Eastern Colorado & Western Kansas). Jeff Love accepted the tag team challenge and jumped on his bike where Dad finished. We were so happy to have Jeff Love finish out the day with us; it had been a hard fought battle of wills to keep going and having a new rider on board always brings a fresh energy to the mix. Together we coasted and drafted to the country village of Larned, Colorado and sought refuge in the local Roadway Inn. The sign in front of the hotel read “What Would Scooby Doo?” and I felt welcome as we wheeled right up to our room. The next morning I would try to decipher this encoded message which could be taken to have several meanings. In the end, I concluded that like all things it would ultimately be up to us to decide what meaning there is to be found in life. To quote Albert Einstein, “The more I learn the less I know”. And for that I was happy to just know that Scooby Doo was there, I did not need anything more for peace of mind. Scooby had always been a childhood hero of mine so who was I to question him anyways. Speaking of childhood heroes, two of mine were soon to depart and return to Arkansas. After dinner at the local Mexican joint, Dad & Jeff Love took the midnight train back to the ARK. Fortunately for us they dropped our gear off with Kyle’s brother in Wichita along the way. We would need all the help we could get for the day ahead…

Stage 20: Larned ~> Wichita, Kansas (135 miles)

I’m just gonna say it up front, this was the hardest and most mentally exhausting stage of the entire cross country bike tour. We had already dealt with big mile days, climbed up giant mountains and fought our way through challenging winds but nothing had prepared us for the Easter Sunday Death March we were about to encounter. We knew it would be a long day so we tried to depart early. This did not occur and we headed out at our usual 9am start time. The first 20 miles was not too bad with just a little crosswind from the East. Then it happened, the road veered due East and the winds picked up dramatically. Here goes nothing we thought and proceeded to have a Happy Easter “I love you Jesus” Snickers bar and laugh to ourselves as God would have his fun with us for the day. We are but grains of sand being blown about by the mighty winds as we soar along the ocean of life. Thankfully the Sun would emerge intermittently and warm us up which was a welcome reprieve from the austere experience at hand. At the rest stop a milk truck driver told us, “I don’t know why you’re riding across the country but God bless you.” It was such a simple but profoundly kind thing to say. We still remember the scene vividly and have often told the story. The kindness of a stranger helped us remember what Easter is all about and how we can always be better, do more, make a difference in the world and ultimately give thanks for a gift that we don’t deserve. We received a few small gifts while eating our first lunch at that rest stop as well. Jeff had a pretty blue eggshell fall out of the tree and land beside him on the picnic table. The baby bird had already hatched and it was surely a sign of good luck. My little surprise came soon thereafter with a white splat on the table near me. It also landed in my fluffy blonde hair and on my bike shorts. Turns out the bird gave Jeff an Easter egg and me a dirty little dues. Kyle took photos and we all laughed in good spirits. This happened to my mom once at Disney World and she is the sweetest person I know so I didn’t take it as a bad omen, just a funny little joke in a funny little world which orbits around a medium sized, medium aged star in a small little solar system in a relatively tiny galaxy within an infinite universe. Now I think about how spectacular each of us is and how every moment is priceless and it blows my mind. Supposedly I’m even supposed to be one of the smarter ones of this particular animal tribe, what a funny concept. One must smile at how serious we take ourselves. Thank you God for this Easter Sunday Death March experience that I will never forget and for all these lovely gifts sprinkled around us in every direction just waiting to be found. Life is such a beautiful comedy, why do we not laugh more? Ok back to the ride, only 80 more miles to go and the wind is only blowing directly in your face at 20 mph. Whoohoo NOT! Back to feeling sorry for myself again, we take turns doing 1 mile pulls and count off the miles with scientific precision. Eventually we reach Hutchinson, Kansas and take a much-needed break at the local McDonalds. Best bang for the buck we’ve found so far. You can get almost 450 calories per dollar with the McDouble and about 350 cals for the McChicken. True this is line of logic is probably not beneficial for a very high percentage of the population but it works out great for cross-country bikers on a budget. That being said I would like to take a moment to be a responsible medical professional and strongly advocate that people limit their fast food consumption to a minimum. Three of the most disturbing epidemics wreaking havoc on today’s healthcare system are obesity, diabetes and metabolic syndrome. All can be directly related to our instant gratification fast food culture and sedentary lifestyles; genetics of course play a major role as well. Ok enough of my soapbox ranting. After a satisfying and inexpensive meal at McDonalds we hit the road again and make our final push towards Wichita. The wind continues to pound us but at least we know the end is within sight. The last 15 miles are ridden in the dark and the roads get super dangerous as we enter the city. Our entrance is cloaked with a robe of speeding cars and semi trucks. They buzz by us at warp speed as our tiny red lights flash defenselessly. We all say our prayers as we cross a freeway bridge with no shoulder. The situation is far from ideal but at this point we have no choice. Kyle’s brother and his family are awaiting our arrival. They even have Papa Murphy’s pizza waiting on us so we have plenty of incentives to get over there asap. We finally make it off the busy freeway and start our way through the city. At first we travel through the ghetto area and are hoping that Kyle’s family doesn’t live too close. We get our wish and wind up traveling about 10 miles across town to the East side of Wichita, which is a super nice area. Kyle leads us in like a good general and Jeff and I follow behind. When we finally arrived after 10+ hrs of riding and 135 miles we were exhausted beyond compare. Oh so tired, we arrive at the Martin residence to the greetings of children and Kyle’s brother. I have a protein shake and a shower. When I come back to the kitchen the pizzas are ready and we plant down in front of the TV to watch Transformers 2. Dozing off mid movie, Kyle wakes me up and I waddle downstairs and crash on the pullout couch with Kevin the dog.

Don’t let the miles fool you; this was one of the hardest days of the whole trip. The day started out relaxing enough as we lounged around the apartment in Shiprock all morning; Kyle and I even took some much needed naps. Today we leave the high desert and enter God’s Country (the Rocky Mountains). We are all extremely excited but also filled with a bit of trepidation; none of us really have any idea what awaits us and if our bodies & minds are up for the challenge ahead. We’re encouraged and inspired that our New Mexico host, Shiprock Nate, will be joining us for the next couple of days. Nate has touring experience in Australia & New Zealand and will be a welcome addition to our rolling caravan. As we roll out the door a killer wind blasts us right in the face and quickly tells us what is in store for the day. Over the next 4 hrs we fight against Mother Nature’s fury as we endure the most horrible headwind any of us have ever experienced. At some points the wind was blowing directly in our faces at 30-40 mph. Nate broke the wind and led the first 20 miles like a true warrior and we all battled on as the elements had their way. When we finally arrived in Cortez, Colorado we were exhausted and starving. Big Rob and his sons greeted us at their family home and we were so happy to have finally arrived. Immediately we were treated to cold refreshments, fresh fruit and Colorado hospitality. Big Rob and his wife went above and beyond by providing grilled chicken black bean burritos with all the toppings. Seriously the grill was loaded with about 30 succulent grilled chicken breast which we devoured with tenacity. Special thanks to Big Rob for really hooking it up and giving us the perfect “Welcome to Colorado Celebration”.

Stage 12: Cortez -> Lizard Head Pass (10,222′) -> Trout Lake, CO (64 miles)

Today is a big day and we all know it. Lizard Head Pass culminates with a 6% grade and tops out at over 10,200 ft. This is by far the highest elevation we’ve tasted throughout the whole adventure and Big Rob knew it last night when he fed us a mammoth protein meal well suited for a hungry caveman. We began our ascent directly out of Cortez and then proceeded to climb and climb and climb. For 50 miles the road unfurls beneath our tires and reaches closer and closer towards the heavens. Luckily most of the ascent was so subtle that you really couldn’t feel the burning too much until we reached the town of Rico. In Rico we grabbed a rest break along with some chocolate milk and microwave Chinese food. Shiprock Nate turns around in Rico and bombs down the mountain to meet up with a friend and head to Moab for the weekend. Thanks for all the pulls and comradery Nate; happy birthday too Brother. Our original trio of three is reunited as we step outside to embrace the cold and the climb ahead. The road turns skyward for the next 12 miles and snow covers the beautiful earth all around us. Kyle flies to the top like a rocket while Jeff and I pace ourselves and churn the gears. We rally together and summit in a dream of snow white ecstasy. An incredible view surrounds us in all directions. Whooohooo! We did it! At the peak of Lizard Head Pass we congratulate each other and get some new friends (cross country skier ladies from Durango) to take our photo in front of the mountains. A great sense of accomplishment pervades our senses and fills every pore in our bodies. We chill out in the snowy wilderness and soak in the views for a few minutes before dropping down the backside of the pass and heading to Trout Lake for the night. Only a few miles of descent and then we head towards the breathtaking frozen lake nestled in a semi cirque of 13,000′ snow capped peaks. Nate (a different Nate), Franny, Edwin & Molly are waiting for us outside their cabin and cheering for us as we make our arrival. We can’t help but feel like mini celebrities and greatly appreciative for such a warm welcome. Jeff & Nate are close friends from college and their friendship allowed us to all become part of an incredible experience at Trout Lake. That night we had an incredible dinner and wonderful fellowship, not to mention Franny’s unforgettable homemade chocolate chip cookies dipped in a cold glass of soy milk. Oh sweet soy milk how I’ve missed you; so happy to be around fellow granola folks who enjoy your subtle flavor. Edwin & Molly were incredibly gracious host and their home was super sleek & modern with a better view then I could have ever imagined. The huge glass windows allowed the mountains to penetrate the home and become a part of every conversation and thought. One could not help but dream of climbing them and celebrating in their strength and splendor.

Stage 13: Trout Lake -> Telluride -> Montrose, Colorado (75 miles)

Blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, fresh sausage, hashbrowns, granola and homemade Mennonite wheat bread; a day can start no better. So much effort and intention had been poured into this wonderful breakfast that I showed my unbridled appreciation by politely consuming incredible amounts of this precious gift. We are full and happy and ready to ride. I’ve been dreaming of visiting this mountain region for well over 10 years now. One of my best friends (Kevin aka Big O) has a house in Telluride and he has been telling me stories about this place since we were in junior high; now the day has come for me to see for myself. We say our goodbyes and climb aboard our trusty steeds for another adventure amidst the “San Juan Alps”. As soon as our tires touch pavement we soar down Lizard Head Pass like an osprey flying over the mighty Yellowstone River. Before long we begin a respectable climb and come upon a lookout point for Wilson’s Peak (a classic Colorado 14er). Jeff & I look in amazement as he recounts his heroic climb to Wilson’s summit last summer. I’m impressed and look at the massive and intimidating peak in the distance. My pulse begins to rise and I already know that my own summit bid is not so far away, but for now I bow in her glory and am content with looking upon her majesty. Maybe this summer when I return for our “14 14ers in 14 Days” Fundraiser I’ll be able to see this beautiful peak from a more intimate vantage point. Back on the bikes we continue to climb and rendezvous again with Kyle at the top. Before the death defying downhill, Jeff warns us of the super steep grade and tight turns to come. I jump out in front and bomb the descent like a heat sinking missile. Enormous mountain peaks tower over us in all directions and we are awestruck by an indescribable beauty which can only be experienced and not explained. My smile stretches to both corners of my face, pupils dilate and eyes begin to water, mouth begins to salivate and the heart begins to race as the road unfolds beneath our tires in a myriad of directions. We are sailing on a 50 mph roller coaster with no guardrails and loving every second of it. The mile signs pass by in what seems like 60 second intervals and in an infinite moment of timelessness we forget all else and soon find ourselves at the bottom of the incredible descent and looking towards the famed box canyon village of Telluride. Oh blessed day you are just beginning, where shall we go from here? First we shall soar down more beautiful canyons for the next 20 miles and then climb over another mountain pass by the name of Dallas Divide. As we begin the long ascent we stop to strip off our winter clothing and eat more chocolate chip cookies. Soon a van pulls up and asks if we need any assistance. The driver would quickly become a “Bisiklet for Haiti” legend: her name was Helga. This 79 year old German superstar has spent 3-4 months of the past 10+ years driving across the beautiful USA and has criss-crossed the continent so many times we could not keep count. She kept a cloth map of the country and knitted on her yearly voyages in various corresponding colors of yarn. Her stories were rivaled only by her independence and love of life. We could only pray to be so daring and brave at her age. Two more bikers soon pulled up and joined our rolling party. We told Helga to meet us in Ridgway on the other side of the mountain pass and made quick friends with our new biker buddies. Together the 5 of us talked and climbed to almost 9,000′ over the next 12 miles before another insane descent past Ralph Lauren’s Ranch and the face of numerous holy mountains who stood in stoicism and peace far beyond our touch in the sacred horizon. Once in Ridgway we ate cookies and a special chocolate rum bars from Germany with our new favorite wayward traveler, Helga. In time we bid our goodbyes and wished everyone well before riding towards Montrose (our destination for the night). We rode in a paceline and made quick work of the next 30 miles. Riding through the city we looked in every direction for the perfect place to relax and grab some good food. On Main Street we rolled upon the perfect spot, the Horsefly Brewery. Once there we kicked off our cycling gear and called up our local friends: Tybo, Paul P & Dr Jim. As the 6 of us celebrated life time flew by and turned from day to night. Tybo and I are good friends from “The Natural State” (Arkansas) and we became friends with Paul & Dr Jim during our cholera prevention and recon missions in Haiti during the recent epidemic. To have us all together again was quite a festive event and we celebrated accordingly. That night we rolled to the local high school and camped out in the parking lot. Can’t remember who, but either Fatty (Kyle) or Hefe (Jeff) thought they would sleep in the grass until the sprinklers went off. Haha. Great friends, great day! Dr Jim thanks again for dinner Brother, can’t wait to see you again.

Stage 14: Montrose -> Gunnison, Colorado (66 miles)

I have been a McDonald’s hater for several years now and have not stepped foot in one of their fast food artery clogging restaurants since I can remember. So you can imagine my excitement when I discovered that was where we were having breakfast. But I have to tell you I was pleasantly surprised. Their “Big Breakfast” was delish and you can’t beat the $1 sausage breakfast burrito for the price. We thought them such a bargain we purchased 6 during our multiple course breakfast and beyond feast. The extra calories would come in very handy as we crossed two major mountain passes and had another rock star day of climbing in the Rockies. On our first big ascent of the day who do you think would pass us on the road? Why none other than our beloved German Helga. We met at the top of the pass and exchanged more stories and contact information. She was heading to Mississippi to have a movie made about her and I have a sneaking suspicion that our paths will cross again. After our second mountain pass of the day we stagger into a local gas station a bit exhausted. We sit in front of a broken fireplace and chow down on breakfast burritos before learning from the station attendant that we’re the 1st cross country bikers of the season! That evening we pulled in the fun college town of Gunnison, Colorado and talked the local Pizza Hut manager into giving us $6 deep dish pan pizzas. We each devoured one for ourselves and I finally got to try cottage cheese on pizza (great combination for all you eclectic food mixers out there). After the Pizza Hut invasion we waddled to our bikes and rolled over to Western State University and took advantage of their library to catch up on some emails, facebook, blogs, etc… Paul P from Denver catches up to us and we all decide to camp out at the college for the night (Paul in his car and your beloved trio of Fatty, Hefe and myself in our tent on the Colorado Trail which cuts right through WSU’s campus). We kept hearing some kickin’ rap music so Paul and I decided to walk over and check out what all the commotion was about. Once we got there I had no choice but to let the musical vibrations penetrate my soul and do a little dancing as the rain drizzled in waves overhead. Several of the local college girls were dancing around and having a great time as well. The rappers got psyched when we all started dancing together right in front of the stage. What a great way to cap off another great day in Colorado. Big thanks to my main man: Tyler for camping out with us and buying us a huge Micky D’s breakfast. Keep that extra bedroom open for me in case I wind up doing residency in Grand Junction.

Stage 15: Gunnison ~> Monarch Pass (11,312′) ~> Nathrop, Colorado (75 miles)

Rain fell throughout the night but we stayed cozy and warm nestled inside our little tent along the Colorado Trail. Somehow my air mattress completely deflated so I was a bit sore from sleeping directly on the ground. I really shouldn’t complain though, Kyle sleeps without an air mattress every night so I just need to get more hardcore. Since we basically camped out on campus at WSU (Western State University) it was an easy choice to meander over to the local cafeteria and eat with the college students. The experience took me back a few years to my undergrad days at the University of Arkansas and allowed one to reminisce about the relatively carefree days of college. The college cafeteria was modern, sleek and full of delicious morning delights. After a feast of omelets, french toast, biscuits & gravy, yogurt, fruit, granola and cereals of every variety we were ready to start our day. Oh yeah, I almost forgot… Before we could begin biking we needed to return a phone call from President Clinton’s office (yes that President Clinton). Apparently President Clinton had read an article in the Associated Press about Kyle and our “Bisiklet for Haiti” Fundraising Tour. One of President Clinton’s assistants had been trying to track us down so that President Clinton could offer his congratulations and thanks to Kyle and potentially make a donation from his personal charity aka Clinton Foundation. We think the Pres tried to call several times but we spent so much time in the mountains and out of phone reception range that several missed calls from an unknown number was all we ever received. Maybe President Clinton will read this and try again, you never know which direction life is going to flow so it would not surprise me if this humble blog found its way to his desk one day. Now back to riding… This day was going to be epic and we knew it. Our biggest climb of the entire 3,000 cross country tour was happening in a few hours and we were all a bit nervous about the crossing the Continental Divide via the infamous 11,312′ Monarch Pass. I drove over this same mountain pass in a car once before and thought it was intense then, my mind had no frame of reference for how this monster of a mountain could be overcome with leg power alone. Fortunately for us, Paul P from Denver had camped out with us the night before and volunteered to take our gear to the top of the mountain in his car. He would then ride towards us with his bike and make our summit bid a 4 man effort. As we depart the friendly WSU campus our wheels go down and game faces on. The ride starts mildly enough with a low grade steady climb and a nice tailwind. We pass a pair of girls touring to Moab and meet up with Paul P soon thereafter. The four of us ride in unison and wheel up to a little gas station in the tiny town of Sargents, Colorado. A nice old man inside tells us we are 9 miles and 3,000 ft elevation from the apex of the great mountain ahead. Good thing we put on our big boy chamois today because we are going to need every ounce of strength we have to pull off this cycling feat of heroic proportions. Kyle attacks the mountain with vigor and disappears into the horizon, he will not to be seen again until we all reach the top. Jeff, Paul and myself begin at a more leisurely pace and chit chat as we pull ourselves against gravity. The grade is steep and the air cools as we climb higher and higher into the alpine wonderland. Halfway up we stop for a moment to soak in an out of this world view, take some photos and celebrate in the ecstasy of life with a brief snack. Back on the bikes and the road turns skyward. I shift back and forth with my gears trying to find the perfect climbing combination, but there will be no comfort here. Lactic acid shall fill the quads from an unquenchable fountain of tender pain until we complete our mission at hand and reach the summit. After 1 ½ hours of spin, breathe, spin, breathe we crest over Monarch Crest and have conquered our greatest challenge thus far. We yell for Fatty and he comes out of hiding from the porta-potty. Apparently he’d beaten us to the peak by about 20 minutes and was getting very cold so he sought warmth in the only shelter around (hence hanging out in the porta-john . We high five, fist pump and look out upon the ever stretching landscape below like eagles from their perch. Next we savored the reward of our hard work by dive bombing down the backside of Monarch Pass with exceptional speeds and exquisite expertise. Like an artist we carved the corners of the road at 40 mph for the next 12 miles. Ride with us by watching the headcam video at http://www.facebook.com/?tid=1336453547297&sk=messages#!/video/video.php?v=10100757012377944. After the fastest & longest descent of our lives we stopped in Poncha Springs and ate gummi bears as we admired the views of Mt Shavano and Tabegauche Peak (a pair of classic Colorado 14ers). Tired and happy we made our way North to Nathrop. A fierce crosswind roared up and attempted to push our bikes over sideways but we trudged on. Eventually we made it to the home of Mark & Barb Warner (our family for the evening). They welcomed us with open arms and prepared a feast of chicken, meatloaf, wheat rolls, mashed potatoes and even a fresh salad. Their fellowship was fantastic and their hospitality much appreciated. I went to sleep early that night at about 9 o’clock and slept in peace and harmony.

Stage 16: Nathrop -> Manitou Springs, Colorado (91 miles)

I wake up in the early morning hours with the urge to use the restroom but something is not quite right. I try to stand but fall back down in bed again. I’m too dizzy to walk unaided so I grab the wall for help. As I fall back to sleep my head is still spinning but I feel alright. I would have thought ill efforts from the altitude but no headache and we’ve been here a week. Back to sleep I go and wake up again in a few hours; this time I feel markedly improved and can walk better than a two year old. Not really sure what that weird dizzy spell was all about but I’m guessing dehydration with a smidgen of exhaustion. It’s 5:30 in the am and my dad and brother (Richard Bell & Jeff Lovelady) have been driving all night long to meet us in Colorado and join the adventure. I call their cell phones and discover that they had just arrived in Nathrop 45 minutes earlier and were sleeping in the van at the fire station about 2 blocks from the house we were staying. I throw on my vest and walk their direction with a bowl of cereal in hand. The brisk mountain air is displaying a morning lightshow with brilliant hues of orange and blue as the Collegiate Peaks look on with approval. Walking towards the van I’m awestruck at the sheer size and magnificence of Mt Princeton in the distance. My mind floods back to 3 summers ago when I made my life altering 57 day Vision Quest to this area. I vividly remember spending my first night alone in the true wilderness on the Eastern shoulders of Mt Princeton at about 10,000′ and scrambling to the summit the next afternoon. That trip saved my soul and radically changed the course of my life forevermore. Here I am 3 years later on another life changing adventure, how fitting. Exiting mindscape à entering physical reality again. Reaching the van I knock on the window and startle my dad and Jeff. They’ve been snoozing and are exhausted after the 18 hr drive from Arkansas. We catch up and head back to Mark & Barb’s for coffee and breakfast. After everyone wakes up and gets some food we pack our bags in the van and are ready to fly for the day unencumbered by the weight of our gear. Before we leave Mark huddles us all together and prays for our safe journey ahead. It is a touching moment and we are all happy to have shared time and space even if was ever so brief. That morning we roll by the headwaters of the Arkansas River and pedal the long ascent up the first mountain pass of the day. Towards the top the sky turns grey and snow begins to fall. It’s a light flurry and a pleasant surprise for our last mountain stage in beloved Colorado. Dad & Jeff help out with the sag wagon like professional coaches. We make quick time drafting across the valley and the frigid air speeds us up as we hope to outrun the frozen temps. We’re so grateful to Keith at Mountain Hardware (www.mountainhardware.com) for sending us all the promo gear, the warm gloves and skull caps were much needed that day. Before long we’re cresting Wilkerson Pass and then it happens…. Screeeeeeee I hear the tires skidding across the pavement! Looking over my shoulder I see Jeff fishtailing his bike all over the road. The back end is dancing and he’s trying to keep the bike from wiping out and smashing into the tarmac below. In a few seconds the bike is at a standstill and Jeff is in shock and awe. As he changed gears his rear derailer jumped in the the wheel and caused a big commotion by stopping the rapidly spinning wheel on a dime. This forced the bike to swerve like a drunken pirate and almost caused a major tragedy. Thanks to some expert handling skills a crisis was averted. It looked like Jeff was done for the day, but then came the saggin wagon to the rescue. Dad gave Jeff his bike for the day and it was on again like Donkey Kong. We rocked out the big downhill and met up with Kyle at the next pit stop. After recounting the tale numerous times and making many jokes we all headed towards our destination of Manitou Springs. Along the way we would encounter another mountain pass, more snow and some really cool hale which bounced and danced across the road as it came down in waves. After Woodland Park we had a perfectly fitting 15 mile downhill into Manitou to finish out the day. Thank God we didn’t have to climb that thing we thought and happily rolled into the parking lot of the Comfort Inn. Tonight we celebrate traversing the great Rocky Mountains of Colorado and tomorrow we have our first rest day of the entire trip. We head to the hotel hot tub to soak our weary bodies and all go out to eat that night at a great little Mexican restaurant. Watch a little hockey to finish out the night and another wonderful day has come and gone.

Rest Day in Manitou Springs

Ahhh, our first day of rest since this crazy and incredible journey began 17 days ago. Already we’ve traveled almost 1,500 miles and are almost halfway through our cross country fundraising bike tour. Kyle, Jeff and I are happy to get off our seats and use our legs for walking again. Dad and I even take a hike up the foothills of Pike’s Peak and soak in some true father-son time. It is such a blessing when your father is also one of your best friends. We always have great conversations about a variety of topics ranging from religion to life to love, etc… Ironic but I’m not so sure those 3 examples aren’t truly the same thing just wearing a different set of clothes. So nice to rest, we should definitely do this again sometime. Tomorrow we head East across the windswept plains of Eastern Colorado and Kansas. Little did we know the hardest part of the journey was about to begin…

The morning air is frigid and we are very grateful for having a warm place to sleep last night. Before departing we realize that Jeff (aka “Hefe”) has another flat on his back tire. He installs a new tube but it immediately ruptures and the tire subsequently goes down again. Something is wrong with the wheel or tire we hypothesize but decide to put a new tube in and head to a friend’s for a morning meal. Breakfast is being provided by one of Jeff’s old roommates from Calvin College who saw we were in town on Facebook. Joel is the man’s name and he is a vulcanologist, stellar rock climber and all around great guy. An extraordinary spread of oatmeal/apple sauce pancakes with homemade blueberry syrup, scrambled eggs with spinach and bacon is laid out in front of us. We eat like kings and enjoy the excellent fellowship, which includes Joel’s roommate, Jeremy, who is a fellow Arkansas Razorback and avid mountain biker. Turns out we both lived in Fayetteville and attended the Univ of Arkansas at the same time but never met each other until we decided to ride bikes across the country and stop in Flagstaff. What a strange and beautiful world we live in, whether we realize it or not we are woven together by an invisible web that unites us all. Our breakfast club has much to talk about and we get a chance to meet Joel’s sister and grandparents as well. About 10:30am we leave the family breakfast with jolly hearts and full bellies, but less than a mile later Hefe’s back tire goes flat again for the 3rd time this morning. Fatty and Hefe start walking and I scout ahead in an attempt to find the closest bike shop. Turns out they found the shop before me as I was getting lost and riding around the Northern Arizona University Campus for about 30 minutes. Eventually we meet back up at the LBS (local bike shop) called Singletrack Bikes. The mechanics notice some dysfunctional rim tape on the rear wheel and discover that a pointy metal object had been pushing through and causing all the flats. We get a new $2 rim strip and Hefe purchases a touring tire to help stop all the flats and mechanical troubles. Kyle picks up a new tire as well and we are off again. Wheels down about 12:30 and we still have a long way to go to get to Tuba City. We cruise through the city and say goodbye to our favorite place so far. The San Francisco peaks loom far overhead and stand as an iconic symbol of freedom and adventure. As we ride further and further away we periodically turn back and see these glorious mountains with their snow-covered peaks shrinking upon the horizon. The wind is at our backs and the road is mostly downhill so we cover great distances in short time. The ride is smooth and we cover almost 80 miles with no more flats and no mechanical issues. Amazing how fast you can ride when everything is running smooth. We enter Tuba City in the heart of Navajo Country and decide to try out the local Chinese restaurant. The food looks great and taste even better, got some much needed veggies with the meal as well which was a welcome sight to a diet consisting largely of calorie dense hi fat and hi sugar foods. Unfortunately the Chinese upset Kyle’s stomach that night and Jeff got a little stomachache the next day. I won’t lie though; I loved it and am very excited about our next experience with Asian cuisine. After dinner we were all exhausted and began looking for places to throw up our tent. A bit of trepidation pervaded us all as we were collectively a bit nervous about offending the locals or having our gear stolen. Behind the new Native American Hotel we found a hidden spot behind a large pile of dirt to set up our camp. Jeff and I stayed up late and spoke of metaphysical matters under the stars and slept like babies.

Stage 9: Tuba City ~~> Kayenta ~~> Mexican Water (114 miles)

Our best day of riding yet! We kick off the morning by going to the local Navajo Hotel and purchase 3 continental breakfasts for only $4 each, what a great deal! After a delish start to the day Kyle and I take a little nap in the hotel lounge as Jeff finishes up some paperwork for his upcoming surgery residency in Portland. We hit the road fueled up and ready to roll. The wind propels us forward and we move with warp speed. After the little town of Black Mesa we hit a giant downhill and blast through an incredibly beautiful valley surrounded with unbelievable rock formations and some wind blown arches reminiscent of Utah. Giant mesas abound in the distance and the landscape is mesmerizing and hypnotic. Our goal for the day is to make it 75 miles to Kayenta, but we ride so fast we get into town by mid afternoon with several hours of sunlight to spare. We decide to get some good local food and make our way inside the Amigo Café. This was my first time to ever eat a Navajo Taco and it was incredible! Navajo fry bread with baked beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and a red & green chile combo mix to top things off. The woman working there was super nice and she hooked us up with gigantic tacos. They were so big I could only eat ½ of mine for lunch and saved the other ½ for a post ride feast. After refueling we hit the open road again and soaked in the breathtaking sights of Monument Valley. Many Western films have been made here over the years and the sheer size and grandeur of the alien rock formations left no doubt why this scenery has become so iconic. As we pass Church Rock we are all in awe and pull over to take photos and give thanks for such an incredible journey. The road rolls on and the wind blows at our backs making us feel like Hermes himself is running alongside us. Our tailwind is ~30 mph and we soar through the air as if we were riding a mythical two wheeled Pegasus. We ride swiftly and fly through the Southern tip of Monument Valley at breakneck speeds. Over the next 40 miles we hammer out a 20 mph pace and set a new record for 114 miles in a single day (all the more impressive that we were carrying our touring gear the whole way). The last few miles our legs get heavy and a nasty little headwind picks up. We slowly weave our way down the desert mountain and spot our beloved destination ahead. As we wheel up the gas station attendant speaks music to our ears, “Just put your bikes right here and yall can camp here for the night.” Thank you, thank you, thank you is all my weary mind can think. I heat up my Navajo Taco and grab a cold chocolate milk. We call our loved ones and camp under the stars in the tiny little Southwestern town of Mexican Water, Arizona.

Stage 10: Mexican Water, AZ ~~> Shiprock, NM (57 miles)

My mattress deflates sometime in the middle of the night and the hard concrete sidewalk encourages me to rise with the Sun. The morning air is still brisk and I head inside the gas station to stay warm. Sitting upon a crate of cokes, I read inspirational insights about “The Light Within” and wax philosophy on the deeper meaning of life. In time my stomach begins to growl and I’m brought back down to the foundation of “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs”. Luckily the second building in Mexican Water is a quaint little restaurant (and yes there are only 2 buildings in town). Jeff is soon awake and we hang out inside the diner until Fatty rises from his slumber. Before we order, I strike up a conversation with some local Navajos and get the beta on best breakfast dishes. This is a little secret I want everyone to remember: at the Mexican Water Restaurant you can substitute 2 blueberry pancakes instead of toast! This might not excite you as much as it did me, but I can assure you this is a very big deal when you are living on a bicycle for week after week and food becomes a precious fuel. After a wonderful morning feast we rendezvous with Kayla, Julie & Carlyle Schlabach from Texas. They drove all the way to the middle of the Arizona desert to ride with us for the day! Dr Carlyle took our gear and ran sag as the girls jumped in the paceline and made us “Bisiklet Boys” look like fools. Kayla won the polka-dot jersey for “Queen of the Mountains” hands down by literally blowing us away on all the climbs. Her mom, Julie, was in incredible shape as well and had no trouble keeping pace. They pretended like biking was new to them but they rode like pros and made our trip to Shiprock all the more enjoyable. I’m not going to lie; the homemade peanut butter balls, CLIF bars, Gatorade and not having to carry our gear around were all much appreciated as well. We presented Kayla with an official “Bisiklet for Haiti” jersey as the Schlabach family bid us adieu only 5 miles from Shiprock. The Dine aka Navajo town of Shiprock gets its name from the famous rock formation which resides nearby and towers over the landscape like a phoenix rising from the ethereal ashes below. This is holy land for the Navajo and an awe inspiring sight for all who lay eyes up this natural monument. That night we went to the local grocery store and wandered up and down every aisle in a heavenly daze as all the fresh foods tantalized our senses and made us dream an endless smorgasbord of delectable dishes. We decided on Pasta Primavera and Kyle showed off his mad cooking skills as he prepared an unforgettable and much needed home cooked meal. The toasted bread with olive oil & balsamic vinaigrette set it off and the amazing wheat pasta with veggies and accompanying spinach salad knocked it out of the park. Big thanks to Nate in Shiprock for letting us crash at his place and being such a gracious host. His roommates were super cool as well; I hope all of our paths cross again one day soon. Only cause for concern was that my were legs were feeling really tired and sluggish during the mondo climbs today. We enter Colorado and the Rocky MTNs tomorrow; I hope I’m ready…

Be sure to visit www.facebook.com/bisiklethaiti to see all the fantastic photos from our epic odyssey.

We wake up early behind the Dollar General store and take down our tent before the locals start moving around and wander why 3 guys are camping in the middle of town. It’s only 10 miles to Kingman so we grab some granola bars for a pre-breakfast and head towards the city. As we pull into town Jeff’s rear tire goes flat and we walk it into the T&A Truckstop. Dear God we must be living right because the truck stop has a delicious all you can eat breakfast menu. Jeff digs in on multiple omelets and “Fatty” takes down the pancakes with style. Meanwhile I devour 3 plates full of pancakes, French toast, eggs and hashbrowns. The ~4,000 calorie breakfast greatly impresses my traveling partners and provides the basis of many jokes over the following days. Riding for 6-9 hrs a day really increases one’s BMR (basal metabolic rate) and burns through the calories like nothing I’ve ever seen. I estimate we are burning 700-750 cal/hr so that means we are burning anywhere from 4,500 to almost 7,000 calories per day. The first few days I was eating about 6,000-8,000 calories, but we’ve pulled back the miles and the calories a bit since then (we averaged an astonishing 97.5 miles over the first 4 days which was a bit crazy). As we finished up our epic trucker breakfast the weather began to turn for the worse. Rain started falling from the heavens and the wind began to attack our bikes with violent gusts. Before we left town we received news that a horrible snowstorm was headed our way and that we would not be able to make it to Flagstaff. Not the news we were hoping to hear. I am thinking of alternative routes, but Jeff & Kyle are confident that we can make it through. All right here goes nothing; we tie plastic shopping bags around our cycling shoes in an attempt to keep our feet dry and brave the unknown ahead. The bags and our clothes only last so long before the rain, sleet and snow began to pound us towards the tarmac. Within 30 miles we are frozen to the bone and cannot feel our toes, fingers or faces. Along the snow blown “Route 66″ we wheel up to the tiny town of Hackberry and its lone store, which is a warm oasis from the viscous weather outside. We shiver towards the heated building and low & behold there is an old timey fireplace to dry our weary bones. Huddling up like homeless vagabonds we make ourselves at home and bask in the glorious warmth. The gentleman behind the counter enjoys our humorous situation and tells us entertaining stories of infamous travelers who have passed through before. A couple comes in and can’t believe we have been riding in these blizzard conditions; the man is a professional photographer and begins to snap away. He asks us to do numerous poses including multiple hoboesque scenes around the fire. His artistic inspiration was palpable and he even went so far as to grab one of our jerseys and put it on for a few snapshots. After hiding from the storm for a couple of hours we decide to brave the snow again and refreeze as the wind and snow increases. As we climb to higher and higher elevations the storm grows stronger and stronger. This frozen rolling escapade goes on for several more hours until we finally pull into Peach Springs, Arizona and seek refuge in the Hualapia Native American Lodge. We are so cold and tired that Kyle gets us a hotel for the night. No complaints from Jeff or I, we head to the hot tub all natural style as Kyle warms up with the first shower any of us has had in days. The power in the hotel goes out that night but we are warm and dry and happy.

Stage 6: Peach Springs ~~> Ash Fork, Arizona (62 miles)

We sleep in and enjoy the cozy comforts of a bed. As our stomachs growl we make our way towards the free continental breakfast (note to all hotels: Do not turn these “Bisiklet Boys” loose on an all you can eat buffet). After devouring wheaties, chocolate donuts, fruit loops, rice crispies, muffins, bagels, pastries and a breakfast burrito we retire back to the room for some additional R&R. The breakfast buffet closes at 10am so I run back at 9:45ish and raid the remaining breakfast items. My triumphant return to the hotel room includes 6 mini boxes of cereal, 3 milks, 3 breakfast burritos and a bagel bag full of muffins, donuts and pastries. Kyle & Jeff are delighted with the morning booty and we make off like breakfast bandits. Considering the room was $110 and we had no power we felt obtaining a solid breakfast was the least we could do get our money’s worth. By the time we left the lodge it was almost 11:30 and the roads were clearing up. Only a few hours ago everything had been covered in 4-6 inches of beautiful white heavenly snow but now the jet-black road cut through the winter wonderland like a uncoiled snake stretching on for eternity. The sight of a snow-covered desert was other worldly and we all felt honored to lay witness to such an incredible landscape. We had been warned by the bike shop guys back in Bullhead City that this stretch of the road would be cold (20s they had said), but we had no idea how frozen we would be until we entered the “Ice Channel” for ourselves. As the road snaked between two ridgelines the cold air coiled around us like a cold-blooded anaconda. Kyle took the lead and Jeff & I pedaled with all our might to hold on. Together we froze as one through the “Ice Channel” and finally emerged on the other side of the mountain with a nice climb that brought us out of the viper’s grasp and only a hop, skip and jump away from Seligman. We had hoped to reach this town the previous night but the unpredictable weather had put us 30 miles behind schedule. At this point we didn’t care though and were just happy to remove our icy clothes and step into the local gas station/A&W fast food restaurant. Kyle got his famous ½ coffee ½ hot cocoa (aka “Kyle Martin Special”) as I reheated donuts, muffins and burritos from the morning’s treasure chest. After a nice break we hopped on the bikes again for one of the fastest and most fun sections of riding thus far. The road dropped out of town and weaved up and the down the mountains in a serpentine pattern which allowed our bikes to soar over the earth with ease and great speed. At one point we were going so fast I got a brain freeze (just like you feel from eating ice cream too fast). The snow fell in perfect harmony all around us and we were as giddy as young schoolgirls. Just before reaching the next town we encountered a young woman hiking through the snow with a small push trailer. Ah hah, she had to be the young Chinese girl hiking across the country that had passed through the same little “Route 66″ outpost in Hackberry. The dude at the store had told us about her and said she had walked through only 3 days earlier. We yelled for her to come join us at the Ranch House (a local café and a hidden jewel in the sleepy little town of Ash Fork, AZ). Once in Ash Fork the “Michigan Men” (Kyle goes to Michigan State Med School and Jeff goes to the Univ of Michigan Med School) went to check the score on the national championship hockey game (Michigan was in the finals) and I went back to meet this mysterious Asian adventurer. She was very nice and said that she had been on the road walking for almost 2 months. Her rosy red cheeks radiated happiness and not a breathe of fear pervaded her soul. Being in her presence was inspirational and it made me realize how often I worry about things that are of little importance. Here was this young woman walking across the country without anyone as a constant guide and she was fearless. Every night she would knock on doors and find a new person to stay with (what a great idea). I asked her why she was walking across the country alone and as soon as the words left my lips I realized I already knew the answer. “Why not” and “If you have to ask I can never explain it to you” were the two phrases that flooded my mind, but her response was kind and simple. “It was cold in San Francisco and none of the trees had any leaves on them so I decided to go somewhere else”. That was her reply and going somewhere else she was indeed, to where no one really knows. Soon thereafter the mysterious stranger went on her way and began to find a new home for the night. I returned to the Ranch House and joined my Michigan companions as we chowed down on the delicious Daily Special (little steak with over easy eggs, “Those Potatoes” (a house specialty) and biscuits with gravy). The hot meal was much needed after 2 days in the snow; something about home-style comfort food really warms the bones and lifts the spirit. It was prom night in the cozy little town of Ash Fork and before long the whole restaurant was full of young men and women in dresses and suits. We made our way out in colorful spandex and found a nice spot to camp right behind an abandoned building with an ironic billboard that said “Tire Repair”. How fitting after all of our flat troubles over the previous days.

Stage 7: Ash Fork ~~> Flagstaff, Arizona (53 miles)

We curl up in the fetal position and contort our bodies together trying to stay as warm as possible. The effort is in vain and I wake up constantly throughout the night. I’ve been colder and more uncomfortable before but these nights are never pleasant. You end up praying that the Sun will rise soon so that you can get warm again. I had to urinate so badly and it was so cold that I wound up getting on my knees and whizzing out the side of the tent. Jeff woke up from his slumber and asked with shock and force, “What are you doing man?” “Dude, I’m going outside the tent it’s OK” I reply. Jeff falls back asleep just as quickly as he had awoken and I put on every layer of clothing I have in an attempt to heat up. As daybreak comes we head to the local grocery store/gas station and hang out as the road thaws out. All the locals are excited to hear about our trip and one woman even comes up to us and begins telling us that we are truly special and emphasizes the importance of our current mission. She gives a deeply sincere prayer for our safety and begins to weep. We don’t know what to say but are grateful for her passionate outpouring of love, which she has bestowed upon us. I give her a big hug and we go on to meet several other cool people and interesting characters. The freeway heading towards Flagstaff is closed and multiple reports come in about jack-knifed 18-wheelers and black ice. All the motorized travelers are bummed and stressed but we are on bikes and know that closed roads don’t necessarily apply to us. We sweet-talk the police officer at the closed freeway on-ramp and he hands over the keys to the castle. All the vehicles are sent on a 100 mile reroute, but we are allowed to roll on Interstate 40 with impunity. For the next 20 miles we climb several thousand feet in elevation and have the whole freeway to ourselves. The occasional police officer and tow truck pass in the opposite direction and we witness a multi hour backup with 100s of drivers trying to get down the mountain. One long haul trucker even plays the guitar on his flat bed trailer and many wave as we pass by. We summit the climb in Williams, AZ and enter the local gas station with blazing smiles. The music coming through the loudspeakers radiates “Old School Rock-n-Roll” with classics from Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and The Doors. The tunes took me back to my days growing up on the farm in Arkansas and I rocked out with a little gas station song and dance. After a brief snack we are on the road again and Flagstaff bound. We roll into the city triumphantly and have successfully completed our riding goal for the first week. Our “Rest Day” was sacrificed en route and instead we settled for 3 easier days on the road. The weather had its way with us over the past few days and we are so happy to finally be here. Stop #1 is the rockin’ Bike Shop Hub bike shop (www.bikeshophub.com). They totally hooked us up with a new rear skewer for Jeff’s BOB trailer and gave us a personal tour of all the sweet touring gear in the warehouse. We even got some devilishly delicious chocolate cake and got to see a quiver of brand new electric bicycles. Robin from Bike Shop Hub invited us to crash at his house for the night and we all celebrated by going out to an awesome restaurant on Beaver Street and soaking in the local Flagstaff flavor. Wrapped up the evening with a few hilarious SNL skits on You Tube and enjoyed the hospitality of our new friends and the warmth of their living room. It seems that whenever you open yourself to the universe and embark on an adventure such as this you are guaranteed to meet amazing and generous people all along the way.

Thanks for following our epic odyssey across the USA.  See our photos at www.facebook.com/bisiklethaiti

Met up with Jeff, Kyle and our Venice Beach hosts, Stef & Mark Fletcher (Stef is a good friend from Haiti, we met each other soon after the earthquake in Port-au-Prince last January and worked together at the Miami Medical Hospital aka Project Medishare). Stef & Mark hosted Jeff & Kyle for the past few days and were absolutely awesome. They even fed us a delicious send off meal of vegan chili. Once we were locked and loaded we drug (and I do mean drug, it was not easy to get those bikes with gear across all that sand) our bikes across the beautiful beach and ceremoniously dipped our rear tires in the Pacific Ocean. Now let the adventure begin!!!

Stage 1: Venice Beach (LA) ~~> Ontario, Cali (70 miles).

Kyle/Fatty’s previous blog accounts for the day’s adventure quite well. Highlights included riding from the beach through downtown LA and meeting many amazing people. Lowlights included getting lost in the dark and riding in circles in some neighborhood trying to find our way to Ontario. Finally after starving from hunger and riding through the LA suburbs for hours we made it to our friend’s home at 10:30ish pm. We were greeted with open arms and an amazing spread of Korean BBQ. Thank you John family!

Stage 2: Ontario ~~> Barstow, Cali (110 miles)

Started with an enormous breakfast of eggs, fresh fruit, cereal and toast at the John household. Then fellow Humanity First (www.usa.humanityfirst.org) volunteers Iftikhar “Iffy” Ahmed and a professional photographer came over to do a little “Bisiklet for Haiti” photo shoot. Iffy was a rockstar and brought his kids along to join in the excitement. He even ran swag for us for the first 70 miles which was huge because we had way to much gear and completed our first mountain pass that day. Before leaving Iffy even hooked us up with prepaid credit cards to help us with food costs along the way, what an incredible man! Soon after he left I asked for directions to Route 66 and got us lost for 5 miles in the wrong direction. Eventually we made our way back and rocked the rollers at high speed. Darkness overtook us and we wheeled into the desert city of Barstow exhausted and a bit sore with 110 miles under our belts for the day. Found a Domino’s Pizza and munched down. Sat at a authentic Mexicana Restaurant next door and chowed down on some guacamole & cheese nachos (had to take off the loaded meat, it was chewy and nasty looking). After dinner we crossed the street and “Cowboy Camped” (no tent, sleeping directly under the stars) on the side of a hill behind the car dealership right in the middle of town.

Stage 3: Barstow ~~> in the middle of the desert near Essex, Cali (94 miles)

Woke up and cruised to the local Denny’s. “Hello French Toast Slam, I love you. Now get in my belly”. After a monster breakfast we hit up the local grocery store for the “bare essentials”: whirlybirds, beer, porn. Just kidding, that’s a ‘Dumb & Dumber’ reference for you comedy movie aficionados. Picked up some PB&Js, Gatorade powder and granola bars for the epic voyage across the Mojave Desert. Route 66 out of town started off great and we were turning quick miles and making big plans. Soon enough though the road deteriorated to potholes and cracks which began to eat our bikes alive. We had 3 flats, a broken chain, popped a spoke and even dodged a green mojave rattler which was sunbathing in the middle of the road. Passed a trailer park named “Mugwamps” and stopped at Dairy Queen for lunch. “I’ll take a large strawberry, banana & pineapple blizzard please” I ask. “That’s called a Banana Split” she quips back in a condescending manner; obviously she’s recognized the dichotomy of intelligence in our beings (the heir to the Dairy Queen’s throne and her free spirited jesters dressed in hi-vis spandex . We return to the open road and the bicycle mayhem ensues. Eventually we roll deeper and deeper into the desert. The Sun has gotten tired of guiding us and has gone to bed, but his lunar sister has risen to smile upon our journey. About 10 miles before our ghost town destination of Essex, California the chain snaps on Kyle’s bike. “Well I guess we can camp here for the night” he states as fate has determined our sleeping spot. I’m not even going to lie, I was smoked and ready to stop so the broken chain was a blessing in disguise. We settle in the tent to stay warm and devour PB&Js and leftover rice with seaweed wraps. Looking through the open mesh of the tent we see the stars shining above, one even dances across the horizon to show off the majesty of the universe which we are surrounded by but never really see and appreciate. I sleep well, best I’ve had in some time. Maybe I’m finally getting back to being where I belong. These recent series of non-stop events and the “Ecstasy & Agony” of life in Haiti have worn my body and soul thin. I feel myself growing stronger with every pedal stroke and every mile.

Stage 4: Middle of Mojave Desert ~~> Golden Valley, Arizona (108.5 miles)

We begin our journey in the middle of the desert and are on the open road by 6:45am. The heat is oppressive and we are baking under the desert sun. Eventually we grind our way to a long climb and bomb down the mountain to Needles. Along the way we accrue several more flats and 3 more spokes are snapped. We have taken the bad wheel off of Jeff’s bike carrying the bob trailer and thrown it on Kyle’s ride. He is being very gentle and doing a great job babying the wheel but the spokes are still blowing off left & right and we’re not sure if we will make it to a bike shop or not. We pull into Needles after battling a killer head wind; we’re 60 miles into the day’s excursion and starving. At the local mechanic shop/food store we load up on pop-tarts, candy, peanut butter crackers and other healthy snacks “Storms are coming, winds up to 50-60 mph” the old timers say. “We better get to a bike shop quick”, so we jet North to Bullhead City and cross over the Arizona line en route. The roads are fast and we discover the perfect bike shop in Bullhead. We tune up the bikes and score a new wheel and tire. Before departing Bullhead City we raid the local Little Ceaser’s Pizza and score 4 hot-n-ready pizzas. We devour 1 1/2, save 1 1/2 for later and take one to our new friends at the LBS (local bike shop). As we depart town the towering casinos scream out for us to take refuge in their creature comforts. I am tempted but we press on. A 13 mile Category 2 climb out of the valley takes us a couple of hours to ascend and deep into the night. About halfway up I look over my left shoulder and tell Jeff “You gotta see this sunset”. My bike leans slowly veers towards his bob trailer and before I know it we are both falling towards the earth in slow motion. We start laughing simultaneously but realize that our shoulders and heads are in the road and traffic is rolling up the climb in our direction. We unclip with authority and roll over to get out of the road. We laugh hysterically with a slight twinge of delirium and proceed up the mountain. The climb is cold and we can’t find Kyle. In his wisdom Kyle has ascended the slope ensuring that we will have to finish the climb that night as well. At the top of the climb the wind shreds us and we bundle up tight for the bomb down to town. We see the city lights but they seem to stretch out ever further out of our grasp. We are so cold that our fingers will barely shift the gears and our feet are frozen. After what seems like forever we eventually make it to a gas station and sit on the countertops while reheating cold pizza and sipping on warm drinks. After thawing out in the local Texaco we go “Ghetto Camping” behind the Dollar General. A day for the record books.

We have been riding through the Mojave Desert for the past several days and internet access has been a world away. Each day we just try to make our points and overcome the adversity that the odyssey at hand throws our way. Every day is a crazy adventure, but why would you expect anything less with these “wild & crazy guys!”

These big miles and touring gear are tough on the bikes but my sleek silver steed has been phenomenal! Got to give some major props to Todd @ Black Sheep Bikes (www.blacksheepbikes.com) for creating the ultimate touring machine aka the fully custom Ti MonstaCross 29er Prototype. Tricked the bike out with a matching Ti rigid fork & seat post and mtn bike components. Thanks to Competitive Cyclists for the incredible drivetrain donation and Kevin & Nate at Spokes Bike Shop in Little Rock, AR for building up this dream machine. The bike has been perfect!!!

Wed, March 9: It’s 4 am and I awaken to rain and darkness. I toss in fits of sleep and pray that I catch my plane back to the US. At 5:30 the sky begins to part and God clears a path to the airport via the longest motorcycle ride I have ever experienced. The path is laid before me and finally I can breathe again as I sit in the Port-au-Prince airport. Too much for me to handle alone, I surrender. That evening I shock my sister with the surprise return. She screams and jumps in my arms, joy overrides her senses. Everyone in the climbing gym looks to see, they wonder why all the excitement but know not the story. Dinner and fellowship with great friends soon follows.

Thurs, March 10: Surprise my brother, Jeff, with a breakfast rendezvous at iHOP. Hide under the adjacent table and surprise my Dad as well. He is so relieved, thought I was hitch hiking back from Florida (I really was going to but decided that it was more important to spend every minute I could with family & friends than to save money). Then went to the farm to see my Mom again (she is the happiest person I have ever met).

Friday, March 11: Travel to Hot Springs and camp out under the stars with my Dad and close friends from our incredible bike team, Bell & CO MTN Biking (www.bellandco-mountainbiking.org). Eat unbelievable amounts of food for dinner. All superfoods but I can’t control myself and devour 5,000+ calories for the day.

Sat, March 12: Spa City Extreme 6 hr MTN Bike Race. 6 laps, 60 miles in 6:22 and crossed the finish line with my Dad (he rode 40 miles). Together we complete our goal of 100 collective miles. I had secretly hoped for another lap but my stomach turned into a rock on the 4th lap and I had to retreat to the restroom for over 20 minutes mid race. Sat on the toilet praying like a drunken man who swears he will never drink again if only the pain and sickness be taken away. Note to self: 2,000 calories for breakfast pre-race is a very bad idea. Finish the last 20 miles strong and am disgusted by the thought of food overconsumption and my lack of will power (this will be a reoccuring theme over the next 3 weeks).

Sun, March 13: Spa City Duathlon. 1.8 mile trail run/10 mile mtn bike/1.8 mile trail run Finish 5th overall in 1:22ish. Win my age class. Take home the Spa Man Overall Award for best 2 day collective finish. Sweet redemption, actually felt better on the runs than the ride.

“Where the Stars Still Shine” Brave New Restaurant Fundraiser Dinner. Fantastic event, we raised over $15,000 dollars to build the new primary school for the mountain children of Baie d’ Orange, Sud-Est, Haiti. Incredible people, wonderful food, unforgettable fellowship. Special thanks to Jennifer Bell, Chris Block, Joe & Katie Clark, Peter Brave and everyone who made this special event possible.

Wed, March 16: Speaking engagement at Beebe High School. Talk to ~400 graduating seniors and all the juniors as well. Gave them an enthusiastic and inspiring tale about life in Haiti and about how to activate themselves and serve their fellow men & women. The future leaders of tomorrow were inspired, some had questions and inspirational stories of their own to share, one cried, many laughed and all were moved.

“Never underestimate the ability of a small group of dedicated people to change the world. It’s the only thing that ever has”. -Eleanor Roosevelt

Thurs, March 17: 22 mile trail run on the Ouachita Trail with Christophe & Mal. My furthest run by 5+ miles. Great day. Loved it! The euphoria post 4 hrs of trail running bliss was so pure and simple in its beauty.

Fri, March 18: Fly to Detroit for Humanity First Fundraiser Dinner (www.usa.humanityfirst.org). Stay with a good friend, Dr Mansoor Raja, and his lovely wife. They were super hosts and their friend is a bonified chef. Thank you all.

Sat, March 19: 8 mile trail run along the river in Troy (suburb of Detroit), basketball & yoga. Power nap then its off to speak at the Humanity First Dinner. Great event, ~160 in attendance, ~$40,000 raised in donations. Blew the crowd away with the Haiti presentation and played humanitarian celebrity for the night.

Sun, March 20: Fly back to Little Rock. Go to an Intro to Buddhism Class with my sister, meet new friends and discover more about one of the world’s great religions. Afterwards we meet at the theatre and watch “Red Riding Hood” for Mom’s Birthday! If I have ½ her energy and love of life in 30 years I will be a blessed man. We have a delicious pizza dinner to continue the celebration then out to the farm to spend the next few days.

Mon, March 21: Mom’s Birthday! We ride horses together for over 3 hrs. Most fun I’ve ever had on an equine by far. Loved the way my body danced with the horses gait. Great day!

Wed, March 23: Fly to the UK with close friend and mentor, Dr Ali, to attend the Humanity First Medical Disaster Relief Course in Leichester, England. 24 hrs of planes, trains & automobiles later we arrive at the hotel exhausted. 1st experience with trains was quite interesting, it was obvious we were not from around there

Fri-Sun, March 25-27: UK Humanity First Medical Disaster Relief training. www.usa.humanityfirst.org Got to reunite with some HF brethren from the US and met some amazing people from the UK. The course directors treated us like family, amazing hospitality. Was great to unite HF USA & HF UK together for a the common cause “Serving Humanity”. Next time a major disaster occurs we will probably all be working in cohesion and seeing each other again. Glad we took the training session because we will be the future instructors when these courses are given in the US. Only downside was that I ate so much food over there. Seems I’ve developed a food hording mentality during my stay in Haiti. My belly is bowing like an arch in front, been binge eating to the point of sickness. Got to get myself together.

Mon-Wed, March 28-30: SCOTLAND! Too much city in England, get me out of there. No worries mate, let’s go to Scotland Love the green isle of the north, beautiful countryside, some of the kindest and most engaging people I’ve ever met. Major props to my Scottish mate, Jason Doherty, for letting me kick it in his flat. Jason’s dad even took us to dinner and scored me a Kona Coiler 9″ travel downhill bike to play on. Sweet ride! What to do, where to ride? How bout the 100 mile West Highland Way cross country trail, thank you may sir I have another After a day of soaking in the incredible sights of historic Edinburgh I catch the 4:50am train to Fort William on the other side of the island. Wow, Scotland is beautiful, I love it! 9 hrs and 40 miles of mtn biking on Tues followed up by 13 hrs and 70 miles on Wed. Flipped over coming down the “Devil’s Staircase” and think a broke a rib. Not a bad fracture though, just hurts when I breathe in deeply or move. Oh well “Se la vi”. What an adventure!!! It rained on me for about 6 hrs as I rode through the high country and down around Loch Lomand (largest body of fresh water in the British Isles). Finally finished about 10pm just outside of Glasgow. Raided a local grocery store and caught the late train back to Edinburgh. Arrived at the flat exhausted and hypoglycemic at midnight 30, took a much needed shower and crashed.

Thurs, March 31: Rush around after ~3 hrs sleep to pack my bags and race to the airport to catch my flight; I made it whewww (sigh of relief). Spend the entire day flying back to “The Natural State”. Sat next to the most amazing woman on the 9 hr flight back from Amsterdam. She was so inspiring, a world traveler and free spirit from Austin who was now living in Helsinki, Finland with her hubby. I love meeting new people and exploring new places and cultures. Unfortunately my body is pretty beat up from the 110 mile journey across Scotland and I have developed the worst saddle sore of my life. Even hurts to sit down, that might be a problem since I’ll be sitting on a bicycle for the next month

Sun, April 3: Ouachita Challenge. Been looking forward to this race all year, now I won’t even be able to ride because this abcess on my bottom is killing me. Hurts to sit down, really hurts to sit on a bike. Went to the doc and got some really high powered antibioitics. He tried to I&D (incision & drainage) the wound but no pus came out. God this thing really hurts, please make it go away so I can ride my bicycle across the country (www.bisiklethaiti.com). Such a hard, hard, hard decision not to race but I know I shouldn’t. My body is absolutely toast; I’m chronically fatigued, have not been sleeping enough, been overeating horribly for the past 2 weeks (gained ~15 lbs over the past 3 weeks because of my binge eating, weighed in at 176, feel disgusting and fat), body is beat down and sore, ribs are still extremely tender (hurts to get out of bed or roll over and to give a hug), and worst of all my abcess on my butt is getting worse. OK, ok, I’ll rest today and not race 60 miles over the Ouachita MTNs. Hung out with my mom all day and swagged my dad. He is such a warrior and inspiration, heart of a lion in the body of an accountant (I’m joking he’s actually in great physical shape right now and weighs less than me, go Dad! Hope I’m in as good a shape as him and happy as my mom when I’m their age.

Alright that brings us back to the morning of Day 1 for the “Bisiklet for Haiti” Cross Country Bike Tour. Been up all night disassembling my bike and packing for my 7am flight to LA. The “Bisiklet for Haiti” Tour begins this afternoon and I have not been able to sleep yet (packing all night long). My body and mind are both beat down. I really need a vacation, does riding 100 miles a day across the country count as a vacation?