Thank you to everyone who has been following our journey here and supporting us along the way. There were times of triumph and days of despair, but throughout but throughout the love and support of our friends and family have been invaluable.
I hope you have enjoyed these stories, and check back again in the next couple of weeks. Hopefully I will have the pictures from the last week of the trip up, and all will be complete.
I suppose we got a bit ahead of ourselves when we named the blog, about 400 miles ahead of ourselves, but I'm sure you won't begrudge us a few shortcuts. Adam has continued on from Hartford and is headed for Virginia, you might find him in Kentucky if you wanted to go looking for him. He is carrying the torch now. He'll make it up for us.
And, remember...
Rubber Side Down
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Day 52 August, MO to Hartford, IL
2842.5 miles
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
We have arrived weary but safe with two-thirds of the continental United States behind us.
We started the morning stretching on the bluffs of Klondike Park overlooking the Missouri River Valley. Looking west, whence we had come - across the endless plains, the terrible hills of Montana, the beautiful mountains, the high deserts, the rainforest. You could almost see the fog of Astoria in the distance.
The Katy between Augusta and St. Charles is particularly beautiful running through great arches of trees, alongside bluffs hidden by forest, and wetlands both vibrant and decaying. Our itinerary for the day would have had us riding 80 miles into Illinois bypassing most of the metro area by going North and then East. But, if 60 miles was pushing our new riding partner to his limits 80 miles might kill him. We began looking for alternative routes, something to cut down the mileage, but our maps were not help. All the bike accessible routes dead ended at the Missouri. It looked like we would have to ford the river. If only little Timmy didn't have diptheria.
But providence interceded in the form of the Green Bottom Road Trailhead. There was a bike path over the Missouri alongside the Page Avenue extension that would take us into Creve Coeur Park. But, how would we get through the city? How would we get into Illinois over the Mississippi? How would we get to Hartford?
In these times of trial one can only ask, what would Merriweather Lewis do? What would William Clark do? What would Seaman the dog do?
They would strike out into the unknown, that's what they would do. Maps schmaps, it's time to make our own route.
Off we went into the unknown, into the City of St. Louis.
We ended up making our way into University City, where we were able to catch a Metrolink train down to the river landing, and from the landing we rode the Riverfront Trail north to Chain of Rocks Bridge. The Riverfront Trail takes riders through the heart of St. Louis's post-apocalyptic industrial wasteland. Mountains of crushed automobiles dot the landscape along side hills of other discarded materials of unknown origin. In the river the remnants of piers long since lost to the water's insistent pull stand alongside half sunk barges. Eventually, this nightmare of modern life gives way to hills of dirt and trees, grass, parks.
The Chain of Rocks Bridge is a marvel all it's own stretching across the river, an endless spann of steel that takes one into the heart of the river to watch the muddy water flow and eddy.
Suddenly we were in Illinois. Suddenly we were in Hartford, and there was a great gathering of St. Ivanys with a veritable feast laid out before us.
We rejoiced!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
We have arrived weary but safe with two-thirds of the continental United States behind us.
We started the morning stretching on the bluffs of Klondike Park overlooking the Missouri River Valley. Looking west, whence we had come - across the endless plains, the terrible hills of Montana, the beautiful mountains, the high deserts, the rainforest. You could almost see the fog of Astoria in the distance.
The Katy between Augusta and St. Charles is particularly beautiful running through great arches of trees, alongside bluffs hidden by forest, and wetlands both vibrant and decaying. Our itinerary for the day would have had us riding 80 miles into Illinois bypassing most of the metro area by going North and then East. But, if 60 miles was pushing our new riding partner to his limits 80 miles might kill him. We began looking for alternative routes, something to cut down the mileage, but our maps were not help. All the bike accessible routes dead ended at the Missouri. It looked like we would have to ford the river. If only little Timmy didn't have diptheria.
But providence interceded in the form of the Green Bottom Road Trailhead. There was a bike path over the Missouri alongside the Page Avenue extension that would take us into Creve Coeur Park. But, how would we get through the city? How would we get into Illinois over the Mississippi? How would we get to Hartford?
In these times of trial one can only ask, what would Merriweather Lewis do? What would William Clark do? What would Seaman the dog do?
They would strike out into the unknown, that's what they would do. Maps schmaps, it's time to make our own route.
Off we went into the unknown, into the City of St. Louis.
We ended up making our way into University City, where we were able to catch a Metrolink train down to the river landing, and from the landing we rode the Riverfront Trail north to Chain of Rocks Bridge. The Riverfront Trail takes riders through the heart of St. Louis's post-apocalyptic industrial wasteland. Mountains of crushed automobiles dot the landscape along side hills of other discarded materials of unknown origin. In the river the remnants of piers long since lost to the water's insistent pull stand alongside half sunk barges. Eventually, this nightmare of modern life gives way to hills of dirt and trees, grass, parks.
The Chain of Rocks Bridge is a marvel all it's own stretching across the river, an endless spann of steel that takes one into the heart of the river to watch the muddy water flow and eddy.
Suddenly we were in Illinois. Suddenly we were in Hartford, and there was a great gathering of St. Ivanys with a veritable feast laid out before us.
We rejoiced!
Day 51 Portland, MO to August, MO
2774.3 miles
Today it was a party on two wheels, or six depending on how you count.
Not far out of Portland we came to the bridge to Hermann and decided to take lunch at the winery. We had wine and cheese on the in the Hermanhof gardens, and then we had pie and coffee at Time for Pie in town. They had only been open for 9 days, but they have a good thing going.
Eventually we left Hermann and rode on finding ourselves at the bar in Treloar several hours later drinking High Life and watching Young Guns. The result of all this fun was that we rolled into Augusta late, just before 7pm with nothing in our bags to eat and a terrible hunger in our bellies. The bartender/waitress/cook i.e. the only person at the microbrewery took pity on us though she was closing up shop and made us a quick dinner and pulled a couple more brews.
We pedaled on up the rode a couple more miles, sapping the very last of AC's energy for the second day in a row, and up a steep hill to Klondike Park for the night.
Today it was a party on two wheels, or six depending on how you count.
Not far out of Portland we came to the bridge to Hermann and decided to take lunch at the winery. We had wine and cheese on the in the Hermanhof gardens, and then we had pie and coffee at Time for Pie in town. They had only been open for 9 days, but they have a good thing going.
Eventually we left Hermann and rode on finding ourselves at the bar in Treloar several hours later drinking High Life and watching Young Guns. The result of all this fun was that we rolled into Augusta late, just before 7pm with nothing in our bags to eat and a terrible hunger in our bellies. The bartender/waitress/cook i.e. the only person at the microbrewery took pity on us though she was closing up shop and made us a quick dinner and pulled a couple more brews.
We pedaled on up the rode a couple more miles, sapping the very last of AC's energy for the second day in a row, and up a steep hill to Klondike Park for the night.
Day 50 Columbia, MO to Portland, MO
2713.4 miles
We went into Columbia last night to sleep away from the bugs and the heat, and to pick up AC's bike and belongings.
We are now three. Briefly, this morning we were four. Justin joined us for the 10 miles to McBaine, and then parted with us to return to Columbia. Three went on.
We rode AC hard today for his first day out. We put in 60 miles to Steedman, MO where we expected to find camping available in the yard of the town's bar and grill. We found the bar. It was the only thing in Steedman, but it was closed. Whether it would open another day was an issue of some debate, but without access to water or toilets it was a debate whose conclusive answer we could not afford to wait and discover.
AC was in rough shape. We needed another ten miles to the next camping listed on our maps, but he was having nothing of it. We rested awhile and then gave him some energy goo, mango flavored, to propel him on. Fortune favored us however, and five miles down the road we came across a campsite that was not listed on our maps in Portland. Our fate was sealed as I went in search of the campground's owner and my front tire blew out No proprietor could be found, but in searching a local woman informed us we could camp for free at the community center up the hill.
Don't worry AC, we need ride no further tonight.
We went into Columbia last night to sleep away from the bugs and the heat, and to pick up AC's bike and belongings.
We are now three. Briefly, this morning we were four. Justin joined us for the 10 miles to McBaine, and then parted with us to return to Columbia. Three went on.
We rode AC hard today for his first day out. We put in 60 miles to Steedman, MO where we expected to find camping available in the yard of the town's bar and grill. We found the bar. It was the only thing in Steedman, but it was closed. Whether it would open another day was an issue of some debate, but without access to water or toilets it was a debate whose conclusive answer we could not afford to wait and discover.
AC was in rough shape. We needed another ten miles to the next camping listed on our maps, but he was having nothing of it. We rested awhile and then gave him some energy goo, mango flavored, to propel him on. Fortune favored us however, and five miles down the road we came across a campsite that was not listed on our maps in Portland. Our fate was sealed as I went in search of the campground's owner and my front tire blew out No proprietor could be found, but in searching a local woman informed us we could camp for free at the community center up the hill.
Don't worry AC, we need ride no further tonight.
Day 49 Arrow Rock, MO to Cooper's Landing, MO
2647.9 miles
Amanda did not stay up until 2am last night consumed with a fiery determination to finish the final Harry Potter. But, she couldn't walk away, or ride away without knowing. So, we went back to Arrow Rock and she finished up the book before we hit the road.
We picked up the Katy Trail in Booneville. It should take us nearly to the conclusion of our journey. The Katy treats us very well. Flat, smooth, no traffic. These next three days should be a very comfortable way to end our trip.
We rode fast. The ease of terrain and the anticipation of our welcome party put some speed into our legs, and soon we were in Rocheport, and then Cooper's Landing.
Amanda's parents were there to meet us as were Elizabeth, Justin, and AC. We had Stags on the river and ate thai food. It's good to be home, if only briefly.
Amanda did not stay up until 2am last night consumed with a fiery determination to finish the final Harry Potter. But, she couldn't walk away, or ride away without knowing. So, we went back to Arrow Rock and she finished up the book before we hit the road.
We picked up the Katy Trail in Booneville. It should take us nearly to the conclusion of our journey. The Katy treats us very well. Flat, smooth, no traffic. These next three days should be a very comfortable way to end our trip.
We rode fast. The ease of terrain and the anticipation of our welcome party put some speed into our legs, and soon we were in Rocheport, and then Cooper's Landing.
Amanda's parents were there to meet us as were Elizabeth, Justin, and AC. We had Stags on the river and ate thai food. It's good to be home, if only briefly.
Day 48 Arrow Rock, MO and Booneville, MO
2597.6 miles
Today, I read Harry Potter 7. Start to Finish. 14 hours.
Amanda's Mom brought us the books in Arrow Rock along with snacks. Thanks Nancy.
Amanda and her Mom saw a play. At some point we went to Booneville. There was a bed a breakfast built during the civil war by a Missouri Boat Captain.
These events are but fleeting ephemera.
I read...and read.
Then, it was over.
Today, I read Harry Potter 7. Start to Finish. 14 hours.
Amanda's Mom brought us the books in Arrow Rock along with snacks. Thanks Nancy.
Amanda and her Mom saw a play. At some point we went to Booneville. There was a bed a breakfast built during the civil war by a Missouri Boat Captain.
These events are but fleeting ephemera.
I read...and read.
Then, it was over.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Day 47 Lexington, MO to Arrow Rock, MO
2597.6
Lexington is a really neat place to be. Lots of history. Very pretty, quaint. There is also a wonderful bookstore, River Reads, downtown. They serve a good cup of coffee and have a terriffic selection of literature for a small town bookstore. No shelves of Harlequin here. We had doughnuts in honor of Harry Potter 7 being released. Amanda read Rumi. I read Rilke. We read for a couple of hours.
Eventually we had to tear ourselves away from the comfy confines of the bookstore and ride instead.
We rode to Arrow Rock, another delightful place to be. The state park in Arrow Rock is very nice and the town is tiny, old, charming, very charming. We walked around town before hitting the tent for the night, knowing that we could sleep in because tomorrow instead of riding we read Harry Potter.
Lexington is a really neat place to be. Lots of history. Very pretty, quaint. There is also a wonderful bookstore, River Reads, downtown. They serve a good cup of coffee and have a terriffic selection of literature for a small town bookstore. No shelves of Harlequin here. We had doughnuts in honor of Harry Potter 7 being released. Amanda read Rumi. I read Rilke. We read for a couple of hours.
Eventually we had to tear ourselves away from the comfy confines of the bookstore and ride instead.
We rode to Arrow Rock, another delightful place to be. The state park in Arrow Rock is very nice and the town is tiny, old, charming, very charming. We walked around town before hitting the tent for the night, knowing that we could sleep in because tomorrow instead of riding we read Harry Potter.
Day 46 North Kansas City, MO to Lexington, MO
2532.8 miles
Well, there go our days of early starts. It was nice while it lasted. We bummed around Natalie's apartment for a couple hours, and then we bummed around NKC for a while - vitamin store, coffee, farmer's market. We tried to find a low traffic way out of town, and failed. We ended up taking 210 out, but it turned out to be a major thoroughfare that didn't really slow down until we got well past 435.
I blew a tube on riding through a pool of broken glass, and that rather set the tone for the day. It turned into a hot day into the wind, drudgery. We took lunch in Missouri City. There were, maybe six people and at least 12 dogs. The dogs gathered around us lounging in the grass, curious but not invasive.
We made Henrietta early in the afternoon with no food in our bags. We searched the city in vain for the promised grocery, and then again for the promised cafe, only to realize that the Casey's gas station functioned as gas station, grocery, and cafe. We ordered a pizza and bought a couple tall boys of High Life, all of which we strapped to my bike and rode over the hill to what no longer seemed a very promising prospect for camping.
Our fears were confirmed. The "campsite" was in fact an RV Park. No, no, that doesn't quite describe it. It was a bare spot in the endless fields of corn where a few RV's were parked, permanently. The water was the color of mud and the bathroom facilities were back at the Casey's (closes at 10pm).
This was not promising. There was no camping within riding distance, but this was not promising. We ate our pizza, and washed it down with a cold one. Decided to try our luck in the yard of the B&B's in Lexington.
Lexington wasn't open for business though. No one would answer the phone at any of the towns Bed and Breakfasts. However, as we were trying to reach the proprietor of one establishment, the neighbors came out and saw us looking like we could use a hand. They helped us try to reach the other inns, but no luck, so Gale let us crash in her backyard and take a shower. Rescued again by the kindness of strangers.
Well, there go our days of early starts. It was nice while it lasted. We bummed around Natalie's apartment for a couple hours, and then we bummed around NKC for a while - vitamin store, coffee, farmer's market. We tried to find a low traffic way out of town, and failed. We ended up taking 210 out, but it turned out to be a major thoroughfare that didn't really slow down until we got well past 435.
I blew a tube on riding through a pool of broken glass, and that rather set the tone for the day. It turned into a hot day into the wind, drudgery. We took lunch in Missouri City. There were, maybe six people and at least 12 dogs. The dogs gathered around us lounging in the grass, curious but not invasive.
We made Henrietta early in the afternoon with no food in our bags. We searched the city in vain for the promised grocery, and then again for the promised cafe, only to realize that the Casey's gas station functioned as gas station, grocery, and cafe. We ordered a pizza and bought a couple tall boys of High Life, all of which we strapped to my bike and rode over the hill to what no longer seemed a very promising prospect for camping.
Our fears were confirmed. The "campsite" was in fact an RV Park. No, no, that doesn't quite describe it. It was a bare spot in the endless fields of corn where a few RV's were parked, permanently. The water was the color of mud and the bathroom facilities were back at the Casey's (closes at 10pm).
This was not promising. There was no camping within riding distance, but this was not promising. We ate our pizza, and washed it down with a cold one. Decided to try our luck in the yard of the B&B's in Lexington.
Lexington wasn't open for business though. No one would answer the phone at any of the towns Bed and Breakfasts. However, as we were trying to reach the proprietor of one establishment, the neighbors came out and saw us looking like we could use a hand. They helped us try to reach the other inns, but no luck, so Gale let us crash in her backyard and take a shower. Rescued again by the kindness of strangers.
Day 45 Rock Port, MO to North Kansas City, MO
2475. 9 miles
We spent the morning down in the river valley among Missouri corn, and after lunch we started into the hills of Missouri. The hills have changed. It is clear that these are no longer the blown dust hills of Iowa. These hills have bedrock. They were born a tectonic birth. The forests are different as well, thick, robust, hardwood.
This is beginning to look like home. I recognize these hills, these trees.
It was a late morning out of Rock Port today. A storm rolled in around 5:30am. We were scheduled to rise, the alarm was preparing it's shrill call, as the rain began to fall, hard. It kept us in the tent until 9am, and it took us a couple hours to dry out or belongings before we could hit the road.
Eighty miles later we were just outside of St. Joseph, twenty miles short of our goal for the day, and dusk was falling. We had hoped to ride through St. Joseph to a spot just outside of North Kansas City. Amanda's cousing Natalie was going to pick us up there and take us to her place in NKC. But, we ran out of daylight, and as Andy would say, "Wear your helmet, and don't ride at night."
Sage advice.
Natalie picked us up outside of St. Joseph instead. We managed to cram three people, two bikes, and all of our belongings into her little Nissan. It was a feat worth of circus clowns. Natalie took us back to her apartment and cooked us a delicious spaghetti dinner. A fair warning to others: do not invite cyclists into your house for spaghetti unless you enjoy cooking like the matriarch of a large Italian family.
We spent the morning down in the river valley among Missouri corn, and after lunch we started into the hills of Missouri. The hills have changed. It is clear that these are no longer the blown dust hills of Iowa. These hills have bedrock. They were born a tectonic birth. The forests are different as well, thick, robust, hardwood.
This is beginning to look like home. I recognize these hills, these trees.
It was a late morning out of Rock Port today. A storm rolled in around 5:30am. We were scheduled to rise, the alarm was preparing it's shrill call, as the rain began to fall, hard. It kept us in the tent until 9am, and it took us a couple hours to dry out or belongings before we could hit the road.
Eighty miles later we were just outside of St. Joseph, twenty miles short of our goal for the day, and dusk was falling. We had hoped to ride through St. Joseph to a spot just outside of North Kansas City. Amanda's cousing Natalie was going to pick us up there and take us to her place in NKC. But, we ran out of daylight, and as Andy would say, "Wear your helmet, and don't ride at night."
Sage advice.
Natalie picked us up outside of St. Joseph instead. We managed to cram three people, two bikes, and all of our belongings into her little Nissan. It was a feat worth of circus clowns. Natalie took us back to her apartment and cooked us a delicious spaghetti dinner. A fair warning to others: do not invite cyclists into your house for spaghetti unless you enjoy cooking like the matriarch of a large Italian family.
Day 44 Council Bluffs, IA to Rock Port, MO
2397.1 miles
Missouri! Missouri! Missouri!!!!!!
Only one more state to cross, and it is probably for the best. We appear to be wearing a bit thin.
We left Clark and Sue's place around 7am, and immediately found ourselves riding alongside the Loess Hills of Iowa again. We spent most of the morning there, sandwiched between the steeply rising hills of dirt and the endless fields of corn like some strange painting of mountains by the sea, in which the mountains are far too small and the sea is undulating waves of stalky grain.
We stopped in Thurman, IA to fill our water bottle, and got lost. Instead of riding out of town along the flat road underneath the hills, we rode directly into them. It should have been abundantly clear that we were off course. The map clearly showed that the route was flat, and here we were staring at the sky, our quads burning. Yet, we persisted. We didn't bother to stop at the base of the hills, no, nor halfway to the summitt. No, not even at the top of the first hill did we bother to consider our mistake. It was not until we had crested a large hill, making the possibility of return unthinkable, that we hesitated.
In unison, "I think we took a wrong turn."
Onward and upward, literally, higher and higher into the hills. I am not, however, all complaints. We'd been in the flat valley between the River and the Hills for the days now. The hills offered a whole new world of possibilities, use of muscles we hadn't engaged lately, and vistas we would never have seen from below.
Most importantly, however, riding into the hills of Iowa led us to the best pie West of the Mississippi. It was getting close to lunch time. Not, the close to lunch time told by the clock, but the close to lunch time you feel deep in your belly, and then shortly after in your head - eat, or fall over, fool. It was then, as my belly commanded me to halt further progress for the morning, that I crested a hill to discover the most beautiful of sights: Cherries, Peaches, Apples...inscribed upon a sign, an orchard.
This was not just an orchard. This was the Hilltop Grounds Cafe and Orchard. The delightful proprietor, Lisa, allowed us to bring in our lunch of avocado, crackers, and bread, while she provided the iced tea. But, there was really only one thing on our mind, and that was pie.
It was delicious. It was everything you want out of pie. The fruit was fresh from the orchard and prepared with marvelous skill to be placed inside the crumbly, buttery crust. This pie melted, trancendently, upon the tongue. We ate four pieces between us, two pieces of very berry (cherries, blueberries, strawberries, and gooseberries), a piece of cherry, and a piece of peach.
The trees at Hilltop Grounds have been producing fruit for 125 years, and each week Lisa turns that fruit into 40 delectable, crusty treats. Go! Go now! I know you want pie. You've been dreaming of pie like this for years. 1 mile north of Hamburg, IA on US-275.
Full of pie, we rode to Hamburg, which I insist on pronouncing in the same manner as one would pronounce the city in Germany. That is not how it is pronounced in Iowa, not at all. The heat descended on us in Hamburg, so we wholed up in the library.
Come 5pm, it was on to Missouri. I am sad to say that the State of Missouri did not deem to place a welcome sign on US 275 at the Iowa/Missouri border. So, we had to make due with a "Wear Your Seat Belt Sign" bearing that all to familiar outline, you know, the one that looks like home.
Missouri! Missouri! Missouri!!!!!!
Only one more state to cross, and it is probably for the best. We appear to be wearing a bit thin.
We left Clark and Sue's place around 7am, and immediately found ourselves riding alongside the Loess Hills of Iowa again. We spent most of the morning there, sandwiched between the steeply rising hills of dirt and the endless fields of corn like some strange painting of mountains by the sea, in which the mountains are far too small and the sea is undulating waves of stalky grain.
We stopped in Thurman, IA to fill our water bottle, and got lost. Instead of riding out of town along the flat road underneath the hills, we rode directly into them. It should have been abundantly clear that we were off course. The map clearly showed that the route was flat, and here we were staring at the sky, our quads burning. Yet, we persisted. We didn't bother to stop at the base of the hills, no, nor halfway to the summitt. No, not even at the top of the first hill did we bother to consider our mistake. It was not until we had crested a large hill, making the possibility of return unthinkable, that we hesitated.
In unison, "I think we took a wrong turn."
Onward and upward, literally, higher and higher into the hills. I am not, however, all complaints. We'd been in the flat valley between the River and the Hills for the days now. The hills offered a whole new world of possibilities, use of muscles we hadn't engaged lately, and vistas we would never have seen from below.
Most importantly, however, riding into the hills of Iowa led us to the best pie West of the Mississippi. It was getting close to lunch time. Not, the close to lunch time told by the clock, but the close to lunch time you feel deep in your belly, and then shortly after in your head - eat, or fall over, fool. It was then, as my belly commanded me to halt further progress for the morning, that I crested a hill to discover the most beautiful of sights: Cherries, Peaches, Apples...inscribed upon a sign, an orchard.
This was not just an orchard. This was the Hilltop Grounds Cafe and Orchard. The delightful proprietor, Lisa, allowed us to bring in our lunch of avocado, crackers, and bread, while she provided the iced tea. But, there was really only one thing on our mind, and that was pie.
It was delicious. It was everything you want out of pie. The fruit was fresh from the orchard and prepared with marvelous skill to be placed inside the crumbly, buttery crust. This pie melted, trancendently, upon the tongue. We ate four pieces between us, two pieces of very berry (cherries, blueberries, strawberries, and gooseberries), a piece of cherry, and a piece of peach.
The trees at Hilltop Grounds have been producing fruit for 125 years, and each week Lisa turns that fruit into 40 delectable, crusty treats. Go! Go now! I know you want pie. You've been dreaming of pie like this for years. 1 mile north of Hamburg, IA on US-275.
Full of pie, we rode to Hamburg, which I insist on pronouncing in the same manner as one would pronounce the city in Germany. That is not how it is pronounced in Iowa, not at all. The heat descended on us in Hamburg, so we wholed up in the library.
Come 5pm, it was on to Missouri. I am sad to say that the State of Missouri did not deem to place a welcome sign on US 275 at the Iowa/Missouri border. So, we had to make due with a "Wear Your Seat Belt Sign" bearing that all to familiar outline, you know, the one that looks like home.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
We did it!
This is a quick post to let everyone know that we finished last Thursday and did not get lost in Iowa. The trip took 52 days, and our final mileage was 2842. We were joined by Adam Campbell for our last 180 miles and welcomed to Hartford, IL by a gang of St Ivanys complete with food and beer. More details later, and we're working on the last issue of the zine as we re-adjust to life off a bike and prepare for our upcoming moves.
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