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.


Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Day 24. Reindeer Rant.

Miles: 80
Elevation gain: no clue
Temperature: mid 90

Finally I get my hooves on this phone thing to clear the truth. First, my carrots are not medicinal, I'm a straight edge reindeer, and they don't even own a daranger! Imagine that, trying to pawn off their special cookies as my carrots like I'm some criminal. 

The truth has to be told by someone. Their month of lies, I'm not 4lbs! I'm a handsome 2lbs or 907 grams to be exact. To think of the multiple post office runs, shelling weight by ridding towels, gloves, books, rain pants, cups and lights. They laugh hysterically at me for wearing a headlamp to chase away cars, but here's the laugh of it all. We spent over an hour searching isles of thrift stores for the perfect handcrafted mug today. The mug was nice, hand pottered with a scooping bulb and flared rim. The handle sits comfortably around fingers, like a worn baseball glove. It has a nice glaze, matte shino finish, with random initials D.W. on the foot. It holds a lot of tea, and the 4 boys agreed, no more coffee for the girl. Here they ditched lbs of gear to buy a useless mug that weighs as much as me! 

After the thrift store hunt the word laundry escapes their mouths. Gosh darn wooggies, like seriously!? I'm just getting my natural funk flare on and they're rambling about the freaking laundry mat. That place makes me sick where we go round and round in a fan of heat after being drowned in lavender toxic bubbles. I wreak of the perfume section from Macy's and puked the rest of the day. I'm strapped so tight onto this bike, my lungs have nearly collapsed, and my only dirt rolls happen while walking from bike to tent. O'Reilly stinks worse than me! It's not fair. 

I know I'm not supposed to complain, I'm getting a free ride here, but the heat, it's freak hot out here.  Wrap me in some tin foil and you'd have slow roasted deer for dinner; or deer jerkey. Thank goodness moms a vegetarian. But O'Reilly, I've seen his eyes when we gets his grimy hands on that fried chicken. Although he did rescue me from that horrible storm in Juntura, so I guess he has a soft spot for me. 

As for the day, we crossed another state line. Funny how the humans make such a big deal of it, and yet, there is no line marking that we hit another state like the maps portray. The scenery never drastically changes, and the people all look the same. We entered a massive city, flying down busy roads like the ones in Los angles. It's called Spokane, and the outskirts are lined with train tracks, oil rigs, and potholes. Nothing redeeming about this town, until we hit the heart, and it came to life with character. Art, music, nature, hipsters, rednecks, and families. I was so excited about the hotel that was chatted about, but somehow we ended up behind a barn off the hwy. The sunset was pretty freaking magnetic. The sun went from the color of a fresh orange egg yoke to neon pink as it fell beyond the haze of grassy fields in the distance. 

Love, Ralph 

Washington Sunset: 

Field notes: hwy 2 has a big shoulder but sucks as a road. Find another route if possible. Spokane is a cool city, but find the right district. Bicycle friendly if you find the right roads. Camping at riverside state park.