Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Sunday, August 19, 2012

Day 62. Brown brown brown

Miles: 75
Weather: it said 105, but felt like 115.
Elevation gain: 4800ft

Who would ever guess after a grueling day of 12 miles down hill through a brown mountain almost topping the speed limit signs, to then find ourselves climbing back out of the brown canyon in 105 baron brown mountains that I would find one of the most generous friendly towns with a whooping population of 800 in searchlight NV.

There isn't much in this town, a mcdonalds, gas station, and casino. With nothing in sight for a 50 mile radius, we were stuck here, so I begged and pleaded with the owner of the only motel explaining our lovely stranded situation. All we really needed was a donated room for all 33 of us and one shower. He generously gave us 3!

So there we were eating cold pasta for dinner, watching real housewives of NJ in a bed at 4pm. But only 70 miles from Vegas of course there was our Vegas crew, a party of 26, decked out in high heels, and floral paradise shirts, drinking Bud Light, waiting for their personalized bus to pick them up, drive 70 miles north and hit the town of Vegas for the first time. All except me of course, and the youngsters, and the two smart ones. Been to Vegas once, saw enough to satisfy that need for a lifetime and with 101 miles in 110 degrees, a 5am wake up and 2pm bus ride back, I definitely opted to spend the evening in Searchlight.

Who would have guessed, the proud grandma party pooper of 6 found there way to the weekly community horse shoe competition, where the town fell in love with us. Not only did they whip out their wallets of $130 in donations to our cause, but invited us to play, handed us all you can drink gatorade and offered us a personal escort out of town at sunrise.

Now the 6 of us watch the sun set over a rainbow and lay in a bed watching crappy TV. Closest to normal I think we've come in 10 weeks.