Journeys: Undocumented Aliens

Brown Canyon single track.

Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

SNS Crew gets illegal.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

Ah! Fantasy Island!
Photograph by Judo Lizard.

Jed grabs some crack at ClimbMax.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

Journeys: The Way West

Heading West.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

A very powerful uncle of mine decided that it would be in my best interest if I drove my Onward Tacoma from Georgia to Arizona for three weeks during the month of June. Of course, I obliged and loaded my truck with the Monocog, Orbea, and camping gear for a massive road trip to the southwest. My sister Beth Ann and my pet fish Merlin accompanied me on this grand journey.

June 14, 2007

Beth Ann sat on a suitcase in front of the Atlanta Greyhound bus station shading her eyes with her left hand. She was watching for me to drive by so earnestly that, when I did pass by, she did not notice. I parked my Onward Tacoma and got Beth Ann’s attention by calling her cell phone and waving my arms above my head. After we loaded her luggage into the back of my already full truck we were finally ready to begin our long journey to the southwest, but first I immediately attempted to hospitalize the both of us by turning onto a one way street against oncoming traffic.

It was a slightly shaky start to the trip that would cover Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, but it was no bad omen.

As we traveled down I-20 West in Alabama, chit chatting about life and other things, I subconsciously acknowledged highway signs advertising the fast approaching destination, the Talladega Super Speedway, and it was not until we were five miles from Talladega that I suddenly had the idea for a cycling related picture.

Apologies to motorsports.
Photograph by Beth Ann Bolte.

I think it is funny.

We drove on from Alabama into the setting sun and into the state of Mississippi. It was in this state that I treated Beth Ann to her first meal at a Waffle House, the staple restaurant of the south. Seated at the Waffle House bar, we shared a chocolate chip waffle drowned in syrup and ate other significant portions of freshly cooked grease enriched food.

I had no specific plans of where Beth Ann and I would sleep throughout the duration of our road trip, but I think that no plan is sometimes the best plan. Back on the road after the Waffle House, we hauled out the atlas and pored over the innards of Mississippi, searching for the green pattern of a state park or national forest. Fortunately, our eyes were able to locate a greenish patch of map land 30 miles east of Jackson, Mississippi; Bienville National Forest.

With the atlas back under the passenger seat, Beth Ann’s tired map searching eyes drooped and she dozed off in an awkward looking sleeping position. Even my eyes started to droop, but finally, somewhere around 2200, I found the Bienville Ranger Station a few miles south of I-20. I surveyed a forest map posted outside of the station and found a usable campground just a few miles from our current location. The campground was at the end of a dark and dusty forest service road and I regret to admit that I did not pay the seven-dollar overnight fee. I was also too lazy to dig my headlamp out of my gear, so I pitched the tent in the dark. Sleep came quickly.

June 15, 2007

As I unzipped the tent door under dreary and overcast Mississippi morning skies, I spotted used latex nestled in the grass six inches in front of my face. Was I dreaming? No. I vomited ever so slightly into my mouth and leapt from the tent, dodging the disgusting human waste. I faced the tent and surveyed the area to discover that, because I had not used my headlamp when pitching my tent the night before, I had managed to raise my temporary house on a foundation of used condoms.

There were three pieces of protection, in fact, and I managed to remove them from sight with a stick before waking Beth Ann from her peaceful tent slumber. Must have been an awesome party. Assholes.

Beth Ann and I quickly packed things up and left the latex state of Mississippi knowing that we had a long day ahead of us if we were to reach our goal destination, Midland, Texas, by the end of the day. Although we only had Louisiana between us, Texas is a vast tract of land and I had no inkling of whether we would actually make it Midland before I passed out at the wheel.

The day was long, boring, and extremely rainy. We drove for endless hours through Louisiana and across east and central Texas, catching a quick glimpse of the Dallas skyline as we drove south of the city. The hours dragged on and the sun slipped away, once again trapping us in the dark cab of the Onward Tacoma. For the second night in a row, we had no planned sleeping arrangements, so we again hauled out the atlas to seek out a public campground. This time we located Lake Colorado State Park west of Midland, but we were unable to access the grounds, because we arrived at the park after 2200. Out of motivation and out of luck, we pulled off at a rest stop west of Odessa and climbed into the back of the redneck RV for a few hours of sleep.

June 16, 2007

Finally, it was our last day of travel. Two days without a shower or a ride on a bicycle had made me cranky and I was craving some adventure.

Sand.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

We started the day’s adventure at the Monahans State Park in Texas, sledding on sand dunes. Sand was not reminiscent of a typical West Virginia winter, but it would suffice for entertainment on a long road trip. I even tried to ride the Monocog on the dunes, but failed miserably. It was a tease. The fine grains of sand snared my rubber tires, making travel impossible. We did not sled long, and after looking for some wildlife in the scant vegetation peppering the dunes, we departed and pushed on. In Nowheresville, Texas we came upon the terminus of I-20 and merged with I-10. Arriving at the end of I-20 carried an odd feeling; it felt like we had driven to the end of a rainbow. A really long, back asphalt rainbow.

Our final major stop before Sierra Vista, Arizona was El Paso, Texas, and fortunately in El Paso there was a small bit of adventure. The Franklin Mountains State Park just happens to be the largest urban park in the nation with 24,247 acres all contained within the El Paso city limits, so I had no qualms about stopping for a few hours to hike and climb a few of those acres. I did not have time to hike the highest point in the park, but I was able to snap a picture and dream.

Franklin Mountains.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

After we finished our hike we returned to the Onward Tacoma and came upon a horrible scene. You see, before we began our hike I was fearful that Merlin would bake in the oven like cab, so I moved Merlin to the shade of the truck’s rear tire. Now, as I walked around the back of the truck to drop my day pack into the bed, I noticed Merlin’s travel container laying on its side about 10 feet behind the truck. I dashed to the fallen container and found that the vicious teeth of some jerk of an animal had gouged a whole in the container’s lid as the animal attempted to gain access to Merlin and eat him. The water was drained from the plastic cup and inside I found Merlin smeared to the side of the container. I immediately thought he was dead and contemplated a Texas funeral, but after moment of close observation I noticed that his gills were flexing. I quickly poured some bottled water into the container, thinking that there was some hope. Honestly, I expected Merlin to immediately turn belly up. Instead, he glubbed his little mouth at the water’s surface. It was an amazing fight to live.

I decided that, since there was a huge hole in the lid of Merlin’s travel container, we should fill his regular fish bowl with a few bottles of water so that he could better recuperate by having more water surface. We continued our driving journey with Merlin’s water sloshing in the bowl; in fact it sloshed so bad that some of it spilled out. I needed to find a way to replace the travel container so we stopped at a McDonald’s with the intent to acquire a cup with a lid to put Merlin in. Instead, I found that a medium sized drink lid perfectly fit Merlin’s travel container. Problem solved.

This intense episode of excitement dulled with the dull scenery of New Mexico. The background was so dusty red dull that I hardly noticed that we had passed into Arizona. It all looked the same anyway, flat red dustiness with mountains on the horizon. The sun set as we arrived in Benson, Arizona, 30 miles north of Sierra Vista and after another 30 short minutes it was all over. The Sierra Vista Extended Stay was our final location. It was a little dumpy and a little smelly, but I suppose it would have to do for a few weeks.

Just like that, three long days of driving abruptly came to a surreal halt.

Nonsense: I TRI

Chuck Bolte TRIs.
Photograph by Bird's Eye View.

On Sunday, June 10th I joined my friend, Paul Kannady, and 300 other triathletes at Greenwood Lake State Park, SC to participate in the Wachovia Festival of Flowers Triathlon.

The event began with a swim. Hundreds of heads capped in white bobbed vigorously around a 1500 meter course marked by orange and yellow buoys. I was intent on swimming slowly and steadily and, consequently, was punched in the face by a swimmer who started in the wave behind me. It was an accident. Upon the realization that I had to urinate with an intense urgency near the end of the swim, I attempted to force my body to release a significant amount of yellow liquid mid-stroke. My plan was unsuccessful.

I climbed out of the lake feeling energetic and sprinted to my Orbea, who was waiting for me in the transition area. I ate a Hammer Gel, urinated, and sped off on my bike after a three minute transition.

I rode the blaze orange beast as hard as possible. Riding with Nate at the Warehouse this Spring has greatly enhanced my cycling strength. My strength showed on the pavement as I hammered out a consistent and strong average of 22.3 miles per hour over the 24 mile course. Thank you Nate.

I came off of the Orbea with a quickness and slipped into my running shoes. Immediately, my right calf muscle began to cramp, but I continued to run and shook the cramp off. At mile marker one, I realized how badly I needed to shit. Unfortunately, I realized that if I wanted to turn in a decent run time I would have to hold the shit for five more miles. An annoyingly uncomfortable five miles later, I sprinted uphill to the finish line with tightly pinched ass cheeks.

Other than bowel discomfort, the triathlon was an awesome experience.

Thank you Paul.

For results, go here.

The series, "A Copper State of Mind", kicks off this weekend, right here.

Look out!

Journeys: The Long And Rainy Day

SS Darkness on the New Light Trail System.
Self Portrait.

My weekend in Raleigh went absolutely opposite from what I had planned.

Buckets of rain, nine hours of driving, six miles of trail.

Ew.

I have seen better days.

Coming soon, A Copper State of Mind, a four part series by Chuck Bolte.

Rides: 17 Teeth

Asphyxiation by Monte InSano.
Photograph by Nate Zukas.

It has been an excellent week of riding.

On Tuesday I had the opportunity to "hang on for dear life" while riding with John and Nate on a shit hot smoking fast 35 mile geared road ride somewhere in South Carolina. Needless to say, my legs ached long into Wednesday.

Thursday called for the usual hilly interval training ride on the fixie. I showed up to the shop early so that Nate could downgrade the fixie's gearing from a 19 tooth cog to a 17 tooth cog (harder!), although, I think that this change would technically be considered an upgrade. As a result of the upgrade/downgrade in cogs, those six new gear inches obliterated my quads, calves, and ass during the ride. So, regardless of technicality, my mind tells me that the 17 tooth cog is definitely a upgrade, because it will soon upgrade the strength of these skinny legs of mine.

In other news, the Onward Tacoma looks entirely different these days. I have topped the bed with a maroon camper top that is the same height as the cab, and also installed a Yakima bike rack on top of the camper top. The rack currently has two bike trays and two wheel holders, and yes, come winter time, I will be ordering a snowboard carrier. The Onward Tacoma has nearly become a proper "mountain" truck. He makes me damn proud.

...All that is left is the three inch Revtek suspension kit and the 33 inch tires...

Finally, as of Saturday morning I will be relieved of my duties on the dreaded night shift. I will be moving to the day shift on Tuesday, which means I will have three days off this weekend! I already have plans and know that my travels are going to take me, strangely, to Raleigh, NC, where I will hang with rad friends and explore the local trail systems.