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, July 27, 2014

Day 14. News from the Idaho mountains.

Miles: 75
Elevation gain: flatter
Temperature: 102

Good News: We don't have Giardia. We are now owners of water purfier tablets thanks to our Cabin Mom. We had our first breakfast of Idaho potatoes, once again thanks to our Cabin Mom, pan seared to perfection. We're in the Wild West surrounded by dead deer and drunk dudes. Beers are cheap and quick to come, but we're young healthy and in shape, and thankfully kidless. We swam a lot. This state is full of amazing big adults who spend weekends repelling into old mines and stealing rusty treasures. We sit in AC. 

Bad news: it's freaking hot. Too hot. And the nights are cold, frosty cold. Legs are out of juice, brains are mush, mouths dry as cotton balls, and the whole town smokes packs of Red's inside, sipping bud lights. Our bartender was blown away by our undertaking and gave us too many free cigarettes, freakishly not knowing the numbered highway two miles away. We've become red necks. Head winds killed us all day, O'Reilly's left butt check hurts, Ralph was chased by a bee which meant pedal faster and Action Boy's love was unrequited. A cooling river refreshed clothes but dried in seconds. The sun put us to sleep, staying up way past our 9:30 bed time in this mountain time. 


Field Notes: hwy 75 N has a great shoulder and follows the Salmon river all the way to the 93. Not much traffic. 93 N not ideal for a shoulder and more traffic road, but these Idaho folks are very bike conscious.