After Bike & Build

Some will remember, no doubt, not only that they went to the college, but that they went to the mountain. - Thoreau

Tuesday morning I got coffee in San Francisco with whoever was awake, and then called for a cab to the airport. I ran downstairs, and by then the rest of the team was awake. I quickly entered the room and grabbed my bin, ignoring everyone and singing, “You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone!” as I pivoted back into the hallway. The team shouted and demanded I make my proper goodbyes - they weren’t going to let me ghost-bounce that easily. Many hugs and warm wishes later, I was on the sidewalk and Rae and Kevin were putting my bin in the backseat of a taxi. In a scene fit for “Bike & Build: The Movie” I waved to my good friends out the back window until the city traffic crowded my view.

There were a few strangers along the road this summer who had some bike touring experiences. I’ll never see them again, and it’s these meaningful yet transient interactions that make me want to delete my social media accounts. Their words were, “There’s something magical about the bicycle,” and, “Everything I know I learned from bike touring.” That second quote reminded me of a shirt I once saw:

Though I have a lot of reflection and processing to do, so many simple lessons can be learned from a summer on Bike & Build: how to listen to your body and mind, the harder the climb the more rewarding the descent, some days you've got high temperatures and feral dogs and other days you have open roads with smooth paving. 

I looked out the window of the plane headed east. The rivers cut and twisted through the landscape at free will. In Clarksdale, Mississippi there was a Bike & Build alum who saw modern society as being structured around waterways. In Colorado we rode along the upper Arkansas River, which I thought I’d said goodbye to back in Little Rock, and this tiny town’s economy was based entirely on white water rafting. And in Juntura, Oregon, the cattle-ranching desert town of 25 people, sulfurous well-water was served if they did not travel three hours to the nearest bottled water source. That alum in Clarksdale, who now works to protect the Mississippi Delta, has a point.

Clarksdale, Mississippi

I noticed the colorful patchwork of crops fields below me. I imagined watching over my team dispersed along one of those country roads, either fighting the headwinds solo or drafting in a paceline. 

Dalhart, Texas

My team is fantastic and I will miss everyone dearly. Each person has made an impact on my life, and I’m grateful for Bike & Build because I probably wouldn’t have met them otherwise. There’s already talk of pen pals and reunions. In parting, we each wrote affirmation letters for each other. As written in our notes, it’s clear that each teammate has expanded each other’s minds to different identities and ideas.

Filthy, beautiful, and free

Flying over suburbia, I imagined looking down on my younger self biking on the sidewalk. A bike ride with a friend to the dollar store, or to the ice cream shop at the farm on a summer afternoon. It occurred to me that my view of the bicycle has matured over time from a childhood toy, to a mode of transportation in the years before my driver’s permit, to a hobby when I could’ve driven but opted to bike anyway, to a passion - because I think you have to really love something in order to wake up at 4:30am and focus on it for 8-10 hours a day. There were moments this summer of brutal climbing and rough conditions when I had to yell to remind myself, “I FLIPPIN’ LOVE BIKING!” 

Sunrise in the Tollgate Canyon. Des Moines, New Mexico

The view from the plane flattened the hills, made them inconsequential. In South Carolina I was so nervous about climbing, but Bike & Build has really changed my perspective. A local of Colorado Springs asked the question, “How has this experience changed you?” Another rider said she's more appreciative of the little things: a warm breakfast, an indoor shower, a free milkshake. I agreed with her, and added that my perspective on the larger things has changed too. From where we talked we could see the Rockies out the window. “That’s where I’m headed in a few days. If I can bike over the Rockies, anything is possible.”

Walsenburg, Colorado
Looking at this is making me bonk.

What's next for me after Bike & Build? After several days of sleeping and recovery, I’ll be moving back to Simmons for my senior year. Readjusting to life after Bike & Build has meant simplifying my possessions - in packing for my dorm I donated 40% of all my clothes to charity and threw out several bags of junk. During the academic year I’ll be an RA, a rower, and working on projects with the Spiritual Life Office and the Bike @ Simmons club.

Charles River, Boston
Synchronized like a paceline.

Also, I'm figuring out an answer to that "What are you doing after college" question, but with the increased confidence that comes from fundraising $4,700 and pedaling 4,200 miles for affordable housing. I’ll be applying to the Peace Corps, to grad school programs for my MBA in nonprofit management, and to positions at nonprofit organizations. I'm keeping my options open - a Bike & Builder is flexible. I’m willing and able to travel because I’m interested in working on women’s issues around the world.

And on the subject of biking, stay tuned for LainiBikesEurope.blogspot.com :)

Thank you for your faithful readership.

-Laini

Independence Pass, Colorado

Endurance

On Sunday I had one thing to do before I could leave California. Through this whole Bike & Build chapter of my life, I’ve been very private about it, not just with my donors but to my entire team as well.

Fifteen miles out of our host in Lakeview, Oregon was the “Welcome to California” sign. I was at the front of the pack, and tears came to my eyes as I finally approached this milestone.

That night in Alturas was the team’s second-to-last family meeting. By August, I felt comfortable enough with my team to speak up, explaining what I’d rehearsed over and over in my head in those first fifteen miles. “My high for the week was reaching California. A few of you know that my dad passed away when I was fourteen. He’s had a huge impact on my life and my character. It was my dad’s wish to have his ashes spread into the Pacific Ocean from California. It’s taken me seven years and a few thousand miles, but I’m finally nearing that closure.”

I smiled through my tears, and my teammates nodded their heads in empathy. No doubt Bike & Build is emotionally and mentally taxing, and for many it’s the toughest thing you’ll ever endure. But it’s not as trying as the death of a parent. Enduring a harsh reality so young toughened me up, and I believe it’s why I had no breakdowns on the road this summer. It's become my philosophy behind being an endurance athlete: If I can endure that pain, then I can survive this... In bittersweet and elusive ways, my dad was everywhere this summer: the truck drivers on the roads, the cement masons at the build sites, the locals filled with pride for their minuscule towns, and the AA meeting rooms where we slept in the basements of churches.

But it wasn’t until entering California that I had an epiphany: it was my dad who taught me how to ride a bicycle. I felt silly; all these miles, and I never wondered who taught me to ride with training wheels as a young girl in the first place. It became not just appropriate that I bike to California, but absolutely necessary. For me, this purpose never took meaning away from Bike & Build’s mission of advocating for affordable housing, it just added another reason to keep riding. Actually, fulfilling my dad’s wish was on my mind when I first researched Bike & Build almost three years ago. He’d want me to travel and experience the wild adventure that is Bike & Build.

I kept his ashes in my bin because the CamelBak was too risky. This means I quietly packed his ashes every morning, almost ritually. I kept it secret initially because I wanted to first earn the respect and trust of my team. I know my dad spent a few years living in California before moving back to Massachusetts, but I’ll never really know the significance of California to him. By accepting that fact, I sometimes felt as though I was being sent on a long arduous quest to some mysterious land. But on Friday in San Francisco, as I was in awe of the beauty of the Golden Gate Bridge and everything that was so iconic California, I suddenly understood why my dad would wish to be in the coast of such a beautiful state.

I decided to spread my dad’s ashes in Santa Cruz because it’s a place that holds great significance as my cross-country destination, and he would think this trip was “wicked pissah.” So, on Sunday I had breakfast and began getting ready. My team understood what I was doing. I biked through downtown to get to West Cliff Drive, which is a road alongside a cliff that drops into the Pacific Ocean. I found a stone staircase that descended down the cliff, from the street directly into the ocean. The stone staircase, covered with barnacles and algae, ended abruptly just below sea level.

I locked my bike on West Cliff Drive and descended the stairs carefully. From there, I could see the Santa Cruz boardwalk, wharf, and seaside amusement park. At the last dry step I crouched down, held my dad’s ashes in my right hand, extended my arm over the side of the staircase, and with the next big wave my hand was washed clean. That was it. It only took me seven years and a few thousand miles... In that moment I felt tiny, thinking about life and death while standing next to the wide ocean just after an 11-week humbling journey of realizing just how massive the world is. It was the summation of so much dreaming, planning, training, and moving. I climbed up the staircase feeling at peace and fulfilled.

A Trippy Transition

We did it. 

In the dreamy state that achieving a long-term goal brings forth, the team explored the seaside city of Santa Cruz. The downtown shopping area was loaded with people - well-adjusted and well-dressed people. Between here and San Francisco the previous day, these were some of the largest crowds I’ve been immersed in. Just two weeks earlier, we were staying in small desert towns in Oregon with populations ranging from 1 to 300. As the trip nears its close, the team jokes about the upcoming difficulties of adjusting to real life in the real world. But JD makes a great point on his blog that, “if we have learned anything it is that few things in this life are as real as riding a bicycle: the wind whipping your face, the sweat dripping down sunburned cheeks like teardrops.” By day 81, 28 Bike & Builders may appear chewed up and spit out: we’re covered in filth, sweat, dirt, faded temporary tattoos, Gatorade residue around the mouth, dead bugs in the sports bra, we’re in need of haircuts and fresh clothes, and we’re all too comfortable with peeing in public, snot-rocketing, showering on the sidewalk with a garden hose, and screaming “YEAHHH BIKE AND BUILD!!!” when sweep finally rolls into a quiet host. I don’t want to paint an idyllic image of the Bike & Build experience; the conditions are disgusting, but I’m always surprised by how adaptive people can be, and especially impressed by how this never dampens the team’s sense of humor. You could say we’re nomads who build homes, but this bubble of SC2SC’13 is quickly ending.

Santa Cruz has many musicians, artists, surfers, and baristas. It’s a California beach town in full swing for the Summer tourists. Downtown had many green businesses, sculptures, and street performers. Santa Cruz. Our ultimate destination was admittedly a bit hippie.

Sunday through Tuesday, but longer for other riders, marked a period of transition. Because each rider had their own departure date and time, it was a bit hectic making sure everyone says goodbye to everyone. We are finally able to sleep in without an alarm clock, and have no town presentation, route meeting, or chores to attend anymore. But maybe sleep can be postponed just a little bit longer, while everyone spends the time we have left together with each other. After our wheel dip, I don’t think the team was all together in the same room or area again, as family and friends had hotel rooms dinner reservations and arranged plans with their rider. Additionally, about half of the group went to San Francisco, but left Santa Cruz at different intervals, adding separation anxiety to the list of reasons why this transition time was more stressful than I’d hoped.

Riding Day #61: Now Entering Santa Cruz!

San Jose, CA to Santa Cruz, CA (60 miles)

Our last early morning wake up was bittersweet. Brendan, the Program Director of Bike & Build, was with us to drive the van on the last ride day (so all four leaders could ride) and to celebrate another successful cross-country route completed. At our final route meeting, Rae performed an adorable Bike & Build edition of Jack White’s “I Can Tell that We are Gonna be Friends.”

There were just sixty miles separating the team from the Pacific Ocean. Not so fast. I got a flat two miles into the ride. There was actually a lot of climbing, making us slug even when we wanted to shred. Since it was Saturday, there seemed to be many more cyclists on the roads. A team of much older cyclists passed me. On the 61st riding day of the trip, with 4,200 miles under my belt, I’m still getting shredded. Part of me was thinking I am in the best shape of my life and I’ve never been stronger than today. The other part of me was thinking I have never been this overtrained, this sleep-deprived, and my muscles haven’t been able to recover in months. Either way, the Pacific was near, adrenaline was pumping, and I had no reason to conserve any spare energy - a huge change in mindset from the thirteen days stretch of riding we had just finished earlier this week. The passing team was nice and gave me encouragement, “Congratulations on your last day!” and, “Just 0.2 miles to the top!” What affected my speed and stress level most was my pesky back tire, because I had yet another flat.

The team waited for everyone to reach lunch, which was at the summit. Also waiting at the summit was the sign marking our entrance into Santa Cruz county. I took the time to inspect my back tire with tweezers, and uncovered a staple and a thorn. Hopefully, I’ll be free from flats for the rest of the trip - we’re so close! We knew up next was a sweet descent through the Redwood forest, and about half of us decided to take a slightly different route in order to see “the heart” of the Redwood forest. As I’d never seen such humongous trees before, it didn’t make much difference to me whether we saw “the heart” or not. 

While the descent was indeed sweet, it was interrupted by sudden quick hills, hairpin turns, a road that was just one narrow lane at some points, and California drivers being their aggressive selves. I realized through this part of the ride that the grass always seems greener on the other side. As much as I try to absorb and appreciate my surroundings, I’ve struggled this summer with also dreaming about the next environment to be immersed in. In the windy flat lands of Oklahoma I couldn’t wait for the deserts, and in the deserts of Oregon I craved the shade of the Redwoods in California, and in that forest I just wanted to be at the beach already. Maybe that curiosity is what keeps many travelers going. Many riders were rather quiet on today’s ride, as I’m sure reflections such as this one took place in the minds of 27 other riders nearing their goal.

Through tiny mountain villages, we began to see mileage signs for Santa Cruz, and eventually these signs were showing single digits. 4,256 miles down and just nine miles to go - nothing can stop us now. There was one more hill, less than a mile in distance but so, so steep. I didn’t take breaks, walk my bike, or stand up on my bike, and since I had eaten no snacks and just a protein bar for lunch I was basically running only on adrenaline. Everyone agreed that it was a really tough hill. A few riders waited at the top for Emma, Mel, and I to make it. About seven of us descended into Santa Cruz. We were so excited and screamed when we saw the “Entering Santa Cruz” sign, that we forgot to stop for a picture. I could finally say that it truly was all downhill from there.

We waited for sweep to reach Little Caesar’s, the team agreed upon meeting spot. From there, the 28 of us rode in 14 pairs for the last mile of our 4,265 mile journey. We screamed and cheered at the sight of the Pacific Ocean and the beach. It was surreal, and as Kat always says, “I can’t believe we got here on our bikes.”

Friends and family were waiting at the beach with signs. But first, we dropped our bikes, shoes, socks, CamelBaks, helmets, phones, and jerseys, and raced to the water. I’m not a runner, and the run from our bikes to the water was a very difficult 400 meter sprint through sand. I wanted to stop but couldn’t, as I neared the ocean and my teammates hugging and laughing and shouting in pure joy. This was my first time in the Pacific Ocean. I dove in and in one wave had submitted my gas station sunglasses to the Pacific. I hugged every teammate repeating the words “We did it,” over and over. Those family and friends that had been on the sidewalk were now at the shoreline taking pictures of our overwhelming happiness. We had all made it, all 28 of us biked the United States, without anyone getting seriously injured or dropping out. I am so proud of myself and my team for our achievement.

In the Atlantic Ocean in Charleston, South Carolina, Ethan made a surprise performance of that famous scene in Braveheart. Now at the Pacific Ocean, Ethan gathered the team’s attention once more. When the team fell silent, he began to sing, “I don’t wanna close my eyes / I don’t wanna fall asleep / Cause I’ll miss you baby / And I don’t wanna miss a thing.” A spontaneous group hug commenced as the team sang the rest of the song. Someone popped sparkling apple cider, and the only way I could rinse it out was with the salt water. Ouch!

We then grabbed our bikes for the ceremonial wheel dip. Our back tires touched the Atlantic at the beginning of the trip. Many miles, friendships, and memories later, we dipped our front wheels into the Pacific. Along this trip, my bike has seen some wear and tear, but we’ll see what salt water and sand do to Calliope.

Caleb welcomed a few of us to his motel room to shower. There was a chilly bonfire and barbecue on the beach, but I wasn’t there long before beach patrol said our time was up. I was so hungry because the only I’d eaten on the road was that one protein bar, and that was before noon, and the time was now 10pm. As much as I wanted to spend one as much time as possible celebrating the last few nights with my team, I was understandably exhausted and wanted to sleep without an alarm set for the next morning.

A Sweep Surprise

Livermore, CA to San Jose, CA (47 miles)

I was disappointed to miss the sunrise, as the overcast persisted the entire night into day. The team is slowing down in the mornings in a tacit effort to savor our last few days together. I’m usually rushing rushing rushing to hit the road, but this morning I inspected my back tire for debris (it’s had a mysterious slow leak the past few days) and wrote a few more postcards and listened to music. Before I knew it, just about everyone was gone except for Rae and Kevin (who were sweep) and Marcus. I asked sweep if I could ride with them, and Kevin simply said they would be breaking some rules today.

“Oh, you’re doing a naked mile today?”

“No, this is much worse than a naked mile.”

I didn’t push it further, and rolled out with Marcus. We stopped two miles in because I needed stamps. I left the store and Marcus said he was going to wait for sweep so he could ride with them. I almost left him waiting for sweep and continued riding on my own, but I decided I’d stick around. We called sweep, and they were already off route, so we backtracked and met up with them in downtown Livermore.

Rae giggled and said, “Laini and Marcus, you’re joining us today, but we’re not telling you where we’re going or what we’re doing. Just follow us.”

Marcus and I smiled at each other and shrugged because it was 8am and we were already on an adventure. Kevin guided the way with his Garmin as we journeyed 10 miles off the cue sheet. Meanwhile, I’m racking my mind about what Marcus and I have gotten ourselves into. Rae gave us clues, but they only furthered my confusion:

“Today will cost $11, it’s time sensitive, we’re biking fewer miles than the day’s route but we’ll probably get to the host site in San Jose around 5 or 6pm. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

Just as I had exhausted all the possibilities in Livermore, Kevin led us to a metro station, expanding our options and excitement. We get on the metro and Rae informs us that the ride is 45 minutes long, so we all fall asleep.

When we woke up and shuffled ourselves and our bikes out of the station, Rae welcomed us to San Francisco. Marcus and I looked up at the tall buildings peering over us, the pudgy pigeons waddling around our feet, and business people jay-walking to their next meeting. It was 11am on a Friday in August - while the rest of the world seemed to be working miserably, the four of us stood outside of that money-driven bubble and enjoyed the sights and smells of downtown San Francisco without a worry. From this point, Kevin informed us that we still had another five miles of biking. We were getting physically closer to our destination, but mentally I was more lost than before. It was also very cold, and someone brought up a Mark Twain quote, “My coldest winter was a summer in San Francisco.”

I’d seen photos of this city, but they don’t properly convey what it’s like to bike up such serious hills only to be abruptly stopped by a light or cut off by a car. It’s challenging, and I love city riding for that reason, but the addition of hills made biking in San Francisco particularly difficult. Serious credit to anyone who bikes regularly in downtown San Francisco, and I can only imagine how tough driving there is too. Marcus and Kevin are racers, and took the sprinting from light to light with greater ease than myself. I didn’t fret much, it’s not like sweep is trying to shred today’s ride.

We reach the bay and are greeted with the widest bike lane I’ve ever seen. Three lanes! Two for bikes and one for pedestrians. However, it’s also the most crowded setting I’ve ridden through all summer. With America’s Cup having just completed it’s semi-finals, and it being the height of summer, there were tourists everywhere. Everywhere. Kevin pointed out an island to me. “That’s Alcatraz,” he said while I turned my head to marvel at the prison’s eeriness and creepy interruption in the scenic family-friendly bay. Boom, I hit a pedestrian that was walking in the bike lane. I stopped, he wasn’t knocked over and said he was fine. I still felt guilty and knew I should have been more careful about staring at Alcatraz.

I caught up to Rae and pointed out, “Wow, look at that bridge!”

She smiled and answered, “That’s where we’re going. We’re here to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge.”

Marcus and I were giddy. Even though most of the team, including the four of us, were planning to go to San Francisco after reaching Santa Cruz, our bikes would be boxed up and shipped by then. This was our only chance to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Honestly, I became impressed with myself for not hitting more pedestrians and tourists. The whole area was swarmed. On our way to the bridge, a couple girls shouted at us, “Bike & Build!” so we looped back and met up with them. The two had just completed the Southern U.S. route about a week before. They warned us that the bridge was packed, and to ride it with only one foot clipped into a pedal. The actual riding across the Golden Gate Bridge was pretty stressful, given that I’d already hit someone that day. People riding rental bikes weren’t following basic rules of the road, small children were practically shredding under my crankset, and large groups were blocking the entire pathway.

Still, the view was awesome, and we felt invincible. From the Golden Gate Bridge, I could see the bay, Alcatraz, skyscrapers, and even the Pacific Ocean - 24 hours ahead of schedule. After a few photos, our task in San Francisco was complete.  It was time to cross back over the Golden Gate and make our way towards the metro to San Jose.

Just as Marcus and I didn’t know what sweep was conspiring to do today, the rest of the team still had no clue this was happening. When Kevin talked to one leader on the phone, he simply reassured them that, “We’re just slugging today and enjoying downtown.” We knew we were risking punishment.

We climbed and descended through the city once more, but this time through some really ritzy neighborhoods. We ate subs and then boarded the CalTrain to San Jose. There was an empty train just for bicycles, a lesson the T should take from the CalTrain. We napped some more, and woke up to four middle-aged cyclists drinking beer next to us. We got to talking about touring experiences, and we turned away their offer of beer because we still had seven miles of biking left. Those seven miles were sweet, as the setting sun washed everything in gold on this beautiful day.

However, we had to keep our mouths shut about our shenanigans until the next day, when the trip was officially over and we were free from punishment. It was our worst fear to be vanned on the last riding day. When we got to the host site in San Jose at 6pm, four hours after the last group, everyone wanted to know what we had been up to. Marcus and I told people, “Today’s ride was just Golden.” But the secret didn’t last very long,  and the worst punishment we received was jealousy from some other riders. I told them I had no idea what I was getting myself into, as the only clues Rae gave were “I hope you brought $11 and that you’re not afraid of heights.”

Cincos Locos

Davis, CA to Livermore, CA (80 miles)

Cactus Fruit

As we geared up to leave the host site in Davis, California, I approached Chris and said in a shy, low voice: “Hey, uh, Chris? Do you maybe wanna like, shred together?” I feigned the nervousness of the guys in July when they made their prom proposals. With just three day days left of riding with a team from 16 different states, who knows when the next opportunity to ride together will be? So Chris and I cruised out of Davis, and we stopped to eat the fruit of a wild roadside cactus. He ripped the fruit apart and a slice fell into my hand - ow, those tiny hairy thorns got everywhere! Rachael met up with us and waited while we spent 20 minutes plucking thorns out of our hands and lips.

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind...

In the flat lands we were fighting the wind once again. However, the road suddenly turned, and then turned again, and the headwind became a tailwind! I took advantage of this and sprinted, loving the fact that with the wind on my back combined with my growth, I’m faster than I ever thought I’d be on a bike. However, that stretch of road lasted for just one mile before making its way back toward a headwind. The wind tests my patience as I keep reminding myself that it’s resistance training. I laughed to myself as I knew I’d forever remember That One Mile of Tailwind in a Four Thousand Mile Bike Trip. When the wind blows into my ears it’s hard to hear anything else while riding. When it’s safe, sometimes I turn my head to the right or the left, so that I can hear out of just one ear how quiet and peaceful my surroundings are. I imagine the wind has a message for me, if only I'd stop cursing it and listen. I imagine solo rides after Bike & Build, when I can ride with the wind whenever I choose.

A Physical Test of Mental Strength

Through the states I've traveled to, I sense that each state believes it’s drivers to be the worst, it’s food to be the best, and it’s weather to be the least predictable. But in particular, California drivers were not very nice to SC2SC. The war our team fought with cars was relentless since South Carolina, when a driver made contact with a rider’s bike, to the Styrofoam cups thrown at us in Georgia, to the over-sized loads of Route 40 in Utah, to getting driven off the road by too many close-calls in every state. The mental strength required in cycling is also necessary for sharing the road. Every car that aggressively honks their horn, shouts explicits out their window, and simply doesn't give cyclists their 3-4 feet of comfortable passing, is trying to send the same message to cyclists: You don’t belong here, this is my territory, I have more brute force than you and I will squash you like a bug. It takes mental strength to listen to self-talk over these messages, and the countless times when the road became a battleground I would remind myself: These are public roads, you have every right to this space than they do, hold your ground, don’t budge for them. I admit that because I was representing Bike & Build, I held back a lot of my road rage on this trip.

But this self-talk, is there something more to it? Is this the “youth empowerment” facet of Bike & Build, reminding myself of my own self-worth? The ubiquitously negative messages from drivers is what many women are told throughout their lives. As so many career fields are unwelcoming to women, we are told in numerous passive ways: You don’t belong in this public setting. Just as I practiced affirmative self-talk when confronted with drivers, I see it’s useful to continue this off the bike too. Hold your ground, you have every right to be here, to take up space. I’m once again reminded that while Bike & Build aims to empower youth, I believe it is an experience particularly empowering for females, as not only the road but also the worlds of cycling and construction are male-dominated.

Life in the Shoulder

My road rage stems from being tired of women being told these messages, being invisible and having rights ignored. The team knows I prefer to ride in the lane whenever possible, and it’s because I’m tired of living in the margin, which I see as the debris-ridden shoulder. I’m taking the lane, car, you will wait.

And the shoulder was especially troublesome during this ride. There were crevices so large I joked that we were riding along the San Andreas fault. I had never seen cracks along the shoulder that were four inches wide, enough to trap my skinny tires and send me flying. So I was much more nervous than usual being in this five deep paceline, with riders behind me relying on my calls and hand gestures, but riders in front of me blocking my view. Pacelining is something I've struggled with this entire trip, and while I feel I’m improving, I know I have a lot of work to do, which is greatly hindered by riding I find more enjoyable: solo and two abreast. So this paceline didn't last very long through the San Andreas fault, and we spaced out a bit. The terrible conditions of the road earned this day the title, “Flatpocalypse.”

Cincos Locos

The five of us regrouped later, and began to have much more fun and joked around for miles. JD lost What Are the Chances to me, and while riding behind me he said to a construction worker standing nearby, “That’s my baby.” The five of us debated over whether the three-note bass line in Tyga’s “Rack City” was genius or dumb. We dubbed ourselves Los Cincos Locos, and entered a surprise mountain pass.

Nyx noted back in Oregon that California has the Golden Hills, which are green with plant life in the spring and quickly dry out and glow in gold the rest of the year. That’s exactly where we were, but with windmills everywhere. The windmills were situated at every elevation point, surrounding us with nothing but rolling waves of golden hills with windmills of varying heights and distances. There were no plants and thus no shade. But at the top, Lacy and I found a large plastic piece of a truck, and we picked it up propped it against a sign post. I ran a little ways back down the road and chalked, “Need Shade? Emergency Shelter Ahead.” The rest of the group realized this pass had no name, so JD dubbed it “Cincos Locos Pass” in chalk.

At the Host

In Livermore, we had arranged shuttles to a sports club for showers. We also had access to the sauna, steam room, hot tub, and pool - all amenities I took full advantage off. We had a delicious dinner provided by our host, and a chore group gave a hilarious presentation. We all know the presentation now by heart. The host requested our assistance with stuffing backpacks with school supplies for deserving children. We were happy to help! I stuffed backpacks with color coordination in mind, and then we had a competition to see which Bike & Builder could carry the most backpacks. I forget who won, but they had about nine backpacks on them.

We opened letters and packages from our final maildrop. My mom knows just what I need as a vegetarian - more protein bars! Roxanne sent me her third care package, a balanced medley of practical items for bike touring, but also silly nick-knacks and candy. 

In Livermore the team also had our final family meeting. We savored the moments as one by one we told our highs, lows, and shout outs of the week and/or the entire summer. I was still picking thorns out of my fingertips from that dang cactus fruit. There was mostly laughing, but also some tears. JD received a Spongebob pinata in the mail, so after the meeting while the team whacked that thing I found a perfect spot for sleeping outside. It was cold and cloudy, but still worth it.

Davis, the Cycling Capital

The total footage climbed from Colusa to Davis, California was 35 feet. Just a few days before we had climbed over 6,400 feet over Lassen, which made the 56 mile ride into Davis a breeze.

Wanna know a secret*? There are 8 cross-country Bike & Build routes, but SC2SC is the best one. We go through so many great city capitals, we avoid Nevada entirely, have the most build days, highest total mileage, the longest route duration, you name it. This is also the newest route, so I'm in the first ~150 people to cycle this route ever, which makes everything feel new and unexplored by bike. And rumor has it that one of the three full-time employees working in the Bike & Build office designed SC2SC as his "baby," making sure we go through some really awesome places.

Davis, California is one of those really awesome places. It's deemed the cycling capital, and even has the Cycling Hall of Fame. Every single street has a marked bike path, and I even saw street lights specifically for the bike lane. According to a local historian I talked to, at UC Davis there are 50,000 students and 40,000 bikes. 40,000 bikes is a cycling city, where the bike racks are so congested that you worry about forgetting where you locked your bike. But there is thievery, and just last year a Bike & Builder's bike was taken (just days before Santa Cruz!), so our bikes are staying inside.

Our first night in Davis was spent hanging out with the local Bike & Build alums and celebrating Elaina's birthday. Then we spent our last build day here. We worked with A Brush With Kindness at a boarding home for people with mental illnesses. The work today included demolishing a shed, laying the groundwork for a patio in the shed's place, lead abatement, painting, and lots of yardwork such as pruning, raking, weeding, and mulching. The team was happy to be there, though we are all fighting feelings of fatigue after 13 consecutive riding days about 850 miles.

It's day 78 of our trip. We have three more riding days until we arrive in Santa Cruz. We can't believe the end of trip is so near, and we are all beginning to think about transitioning to life after Bike & Build. As much as I want to finally reach Santa Cruz and see the Pacific Ocean, I also don't want this experience to be over!

*This is not really a secret, it's just my personal opinion.

It's All Downhill From Here

It felt like only five minutes had passed. My alarm must be wrong, it can't be 5:15 already! I woke up in a bed, in a ranch, in Mineral, in Lassen Volcanic National Park, in California.

Our host, Ann, made breakfast for us, including homemade zucchini bread. This week I am on trailer crew, which consists of me loading the trailer up with everyone's bins and bags. However, the van has broken down and now the trip leaders are driving a U-Haul, which made my morning chore infinitely easier.

I've noticed that other people's complaints or negativity can really be contagious, especially while in close quarters on a feat that is often more mental than it is physical. This is another reason to ride alone. I was ready to leave the amazing host site, so I was the first to hit the road at 6:30. As it turns out, the rest of the team hung out at the host site for another three hours while waiting for the temperature to rise. The cold morning didn't affect me, and I just put my rain jacket on. I found that cruising through mountains at sunrise on a Sunday morning in California to be incredible. One thing Boston biking doesn't provide are huge mountain descents like this, so I cherished it as much as possible.

Today's ride was 77 miles, and it was easy. The first 40 miles were downhill, as we dropped in elevation from about 5,000 feet in Mineral to just 180 feet in Chico. I was especially hungry at lunch, I think due to such serious climbing the day before. Climbing 6,400 feet yesterday also took a toll on my legs, and I just went very slow up even the slightest hills today. The second half of the ride I cruised at 16 mph with Rae and Kevin. We stopped at an ice cream shop in the middle of endless fields of orchards.

The small city of Chico is great. The showers at the gym were luxurious, the potluck provided by the community was delicious, and the local Habitat chapter was excited to learn that we granted them $3,000 from the competitive grant program.

The night ended with a movie at Mr. Hully's home theater. This guy really went above and beyond, and it actually was a cinema in his home. He also had lots of arcade games in his kitchen. From what I gathered, he was a quirky retired teacher who has hosted many exchange students from Asia, so he has knick-knacks from all around the world. A map on the wall was filled with tacks marking where his many visitors have been. We watched a British comedy and got to not think about biking for a while in the middle of our thirteen consecutive days of riding.