Hello from Kentucky! The state of craggy hills, winding roads and speckles of summer blossoms. I am seriously, without a doubt, totally head over heels for this state.

We're currently in Morehead, Kentucky teetering along the edge of the West Virginia boarder. The past few days have been, besides breathtaking and life changing, a series of unrelenting hills leading us on our way to the good 'ol Appalachians. With only two more days as the Colorado sector, where we'll be meeting up with 30 other riders from the Trek, I am a little nostalgic.

Okay... a lot to say, so I guess I'll scratch the surface a bit:

Since the last time I wrote we've found ourselves bumming rides off of church deacons, camping in cockroach havens, staying in 100 year old mansions with environmentalist, swimming under the full moon in a pool with Abba booming over loud speakers, baking garlic pasta and munching brownie slabs with a professional chef, camping in national forests in forgotten pioneer homestead hidden in the hills, and sharing belly laughs beside misty midnight lakes.

Finally, we made it to Louisville (pronounced without vowels apparently) Kentucky, where synchronicity has struck yet again. We just so happen to have rolled in to town the very day the national Forecastle Festival, a massive music, arts, and activism event, was taking place. After a few catchy emails, name throwing, and good timing, we found ourselves toting black and white VIP wristbands on our way to see the Black Keys for free. Luckily Louisville was our planned rest day, so we were able to stay for the entire festival and use our VIP passes to interview all of the bands about their opinions about environmental changes. It was...amazing. I've never been to a true festival before, and a conglomeration of barefooted, happy, hippy people, good tunes reverberating off of skyscrapers, and free bike valet parking made the experience exceptional. We were luckily enough to have a one on one interview with the festival media and publicise the purpose of the ride, as well as run into several local news reporters. By the end of the festival we were feeling pretty good about ourselves, as people would walk by and say "Oh hey! Are you the bikers?" Our little taste of fame was pretty fun. First time raving in fountains and being able to see the world's largest baseball bat were also a plus.

We also were able to meet with the the founder of Bicycling for Louisville, a non-profit that encourages bicycling in the region, for breakfast as well as several other members. I had the chance to talk to a women who was involved in reducing child obesity in Kentucky (which apparently the stats suggest is 1 in every 3 kids). It really made me re-evaluate the way I looked at the roads around me, considering much of what she was talking about was related to transit. Most of the roads in lower income parts of the city don't have side walks and ways of moving around safely and actively, thus ensuring people rely on gas guzzling means. Also, many parts of the city (as well as small towns) don't even have a fresh produce carrier...making gas station and White Castle a staple out of default. More mind food to chew on in attempt to save the world.

Another amazing person we met with was Ben Evans from yert. com (check it out...seriously it is SO COOL!) who travelled to all 50 states in 1 year talking about environmental issues and filming a documentary about the critical issues our nation faces today. Inspiring was an understatement.

Next on the list was Shelbyville, where we were able to visit an organic farm called Earth's Promise. This particular farm was focused on chickens, with an environmental twist. Being a product of a promise to the earth made in a Native American sweat lodge, it was created as a means to produce food that supports the ecosystem and increases health of the futuer generations. In exchange for a decadently cooked organic omelet and french toast breakfast, made with raw milk butter, cheese and homemade cinnamon bread, we were put to work by feeding hordes of turkeys their morning meal. This proved it to me: real food just TASTES BETTER. I would not be surprised if I talked about that meal for hours after eating it.

In Lexington we were housed by a friend, Tim Buckingham, a member of Kentuckians for Commonwealth and avid cyclist. Tim threw us a huge cyclist party, with the intent of inviting all of the people in Lexington who are involved with the environmental movement, including journalists, graphic designers, social workers, and even inventors (of a bike power smoothie machine). Tim has been actively involved in fighting for the end of mountain top removal, a massive problem plaguing much of Kentucky. Being able to talk with him was insightful and empowering.

Okay...so we're slowly being kicked out of the computer lab because we've been on the computers too long, so I suspect I am next to get the boot, so I'll sum up the past few days like so:

Gobs of flowers, mansions upon hills, Saudi Arabian horse trading industry, camping in the middle of a derby race track, loving life, and on our way to the EAST COAST ALAS! Only 12 more days to go, and find myself equally jovial and devastated. I urge all, ride a bike. :)

Hello from eastern Illinois!



Sorry for the incredible lack of communication. We've quite literally had no Internet or phone for days on end (mine getting in a fight with an epic lightening storm, resulting in it's demise, has not helped). Really, smoke signals have had their appeal. :) But finally we're broke down in a little town in the middle of the Midwest due to spoke problems, and the ambulance station (the only mechanic in town) is right across from a dazzling, air conditioned public library oasis. A sticky combination of too much to say, limited time, and a memory where city parks are beginning to blend, will probably result in a post a little less than par. But...se la vie.



Okay: I left off at Clinton, Missouri. The head of the Katy trail. The trail itself was a thin slice of heaven spanning the hilly "show it all" state...and we were very happy for that. The night before we left we ended up meeting up with two guys from Peru who had just finished the trail, and we're informed of its in's and out's over some sweet guitar and stars. Most of the trail is sandwiched in between thick wooded areas and farms, speckled occasionally with back road towns (most not even having a grocery store). We met up with Stephanie, Ryan and Paul along the way, making our group a whopping 7 people. There is too much to say about the Katy, so I will present a list in hopes of encompassing a bit: camping huddled under a rain fly in an epic Missouri thunderstorm, hitting an armadillo via bike whilst reopening my knee, night ride forest paths lit by fireflies, a bike hostel with ping pong tables galore, small town picnic and pork steak sandwiches, astrological readings behind sappy cowboy performances, camping in a Christmas colored, neon sheep farm, and being fed the most gourmet lunch of my life under a pavilion next to the Missouri river, and experiencing the true Missouri cuisine of fried gizzards, gooey butter cake, and what is known as "toasted ravioli." Basically: besides a slew of flat tires due to crushed limestone roads, the Katy has been one of the best places I've seen so far.

Next stop was St. Louis!
YAY! We finally made it to a real city....which also means city riding. Ouchy. Riding with cars and people is totally different than the placidity of dear Kansas. In light of a slight personal vendetta I have, I must admit, St. Louis was one of the most hospitable places we've gone through so far. We stayed with an amazing family in the suburbs, who cooked us a dinner that was just slight of divinity. They had razors, soap, shampoo, fresh towels and made up beds for us all, as well as a bag of bagels to send us on our way after a full course breakfast. Some people are so selfless, I am humbled by the kindness. (another example is randomly talking to a stranger in a park about our trip, and after about 5 minutes she came back with a wad of $200 as a contribution to our cause)...sigh.

The next day we woke up and had a full day of just city riding (meaning it would take us all day to get across St. Louis). After 7 flat tires total, Paul and I found ourselves stranded from the group with no tubes for my tires (which was ironic...considering that morning I was laughing about how many extra tubes I had). After hitchhiking to the nearest town, we came 5 minutes after the only bike shop in town closed. So... not surprisingly we found ourselves out of options, marooned at a super market, sitting on the ground engrossed in a group sing a long. This seemed to be the best resolution to the problem at the time, and was actually the catalyst for a discussion with a stranger who eventually offered her yard for the night and her pickup as a means of transportation. Once again...kindness of strangers.

This particular house was....quite honestly the most bizarre place I have EVER slept. A bright blue farm house (painted to honor the blueness of our her father's eyes) stuck haphazardly in between rows of sunflowers atop a sharp rolling hill. Usually this would be not so strange, but in combination with 18 bunny rabbits wandering the yard and stacked in cages, a memory garden comprised of tacky statues and fake flowers, and a man who liked to knit and had recently had 6 heart bypasses....I found the circumstances borderline hysterical. Some times life deals you random cards. We found ourselves hunched over a small BBQ grill with a metal platter melting cheese and apples on tortillas listening to our host's theories on out of body experience and "happy places" (which she later tried to induce on me by holding my temples). Hah. Neato.

The next day I was finally able to get my tubes, after swerving in and out of hills and touring the flood areas of the town in an old pick up. We road to Chester, Illinois. Chester, in comparison to our previous night, I thought could not be any weirder. Annnd..I was wrong. Chester is what is known as "The Home of Popeye." Meaning everything in sight is Popeye themed. Gas stations, laundry mats, restaurants either had spinach or sailor outfits painted on the sides. We went to a small homestead in the middle of town where it seemed everyone knew one another, besides us of course, being the spandex clad outsiders. Here I experienced an Illinois speciality known as a "One Hot Pony," which is basically potato chips, nacho cheese, bright red hot sauce, and a slab of chicken wedged amongst the mess.

The next day we road to Carbondale, marking HALFWAY for us. Yay! We stayed with a friend of Lucy's she met last time she road, Aur, owner of a solar power business, a kick ass cook, and the BEST salsa dancer in the state of Illinois. After getting a pannier rack set up on my bike, indulging in a fine Thai dinner thanks to Natalie (the last rider to join us) and her mom, and boxing up the trailer I had been carrying (which weighed 33 pounds!) to send back to our friend in Kansas, Aur informed us that the next morning he was planning on leaving for the nation's oldest hippy commune and would like if we could join him. UM HELLO!? Yes.

The next morning all of sandwiched into Aur's hippy van, picked up a hitchhiker or two along the way, and jammed out to jazz all the way to southern Tennessee (217 miles off route). The hippy commune was first started back in the 60's, after sending a fleet of beat up school buses across the country on search for fertile land. We were there just in time for their annual festival, known as Ragweed, celebrating a time where the commune was busted for pot plants spotted from planes, which turned out to be just a field of ragweed (a harmless, totally not hallucinogenic, weed that grows all over the state). In order to commemorate the event, they celebrate every year with fireworks, dance, vegan food, and an array of brightly colored clothes. It was a sight to be seen. We found ourselves munching organic salad and soy ice cream made at their own local farm and touring their solar power, alternative thinking elementary school. Also, interestingly enough, I ended up running into a guy from Goucher! The world is small.

Like clockwork, the sun set and lightening and rain followed. Dancing to Bob Marley bare foot in a hippy commune marks what is probably one of the most memorable 4th of July's I'll ever see.

That morning we woke up, after all huddling in the hippy van for shelter, and drove to a blueberry farm. After parking the car a ways back and tip toeing to the field, we picked about 10 pounds of berries for the road. Dew drops, fresh leaves, wet earth and about 310 blueberries in my stomach, we decided there is very little things more religious than being humbled by nature in such a way on a Sunday morning.

Anyways: Now we're in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, waiting to fix a broken spoke. Tomorrow we'll be in Indiana. Only 20 more days left on the Trek and I am starting to fear going back to normal life. Living in a perma-high off of endorphins, experiencing the will and way of the universe pushing us into different situations, and never resting my head in the same place twice will all be hard to give up.

Miss you all.
Alive and in love with life,
Kelly

Howdy!!!

Long time no post, lo siento. :) Internet/time has had its scarcities. BUT! We are now officially in Clinton, Missouri alive and full of amazing people, food, hospitality and sore joints. Gosh y'all, life is delicious. I guess the best way of tackling this is to split things by towns and go from there.

Lindsborg, Kansas (Little Sweden):
This town....wow. We've dubbed it Pleasantville USA. After a, roughly speaking, tragic morning of hills, wind, and sun, we rolled in to Lindsborg, Kansas. The parenthetical reference is not some snide joke; rather, its actual nickname. About 20 miles or so before we approached the town, we met a bunch of truckers and had a lovely lunch of warm food and tornado talk, upon which we were informed about Lindsborg, a place we just assumed to be another spot on the map, was "a real artsy and international and such place," to put it verbatim. When we finally got there, we soon realized that they weren't kidding. We were greeted by happily painted horses on every street corner, sappy Swedish tunes being projected from mounted speakers on street lamps, and lettering that seemed far too foreign for my eyes to make sense of: IT WAS SWEDEN....in Kansas. :) After a chance encounter with one of the sweetest ladies around, a local named Peggy Johnson, we were soon being whizzed around the town in her car to the nearest recycling place for a personal tour, housed in our own house by a local church, and invited to taco salad at 6:00 at the Johnson's. Afterwards we were told that the following day was what the Swedes call Midsummer's festival.. After dinner and decorating a may pole with Peggy's daughter, Ronda, who was an avid bicyclist, we all went down to the park for a jazz concert. Dancing, fireflies, and traditional Swedish strawberry desserts, one could say the night was a success.

In light of the festivities, we decided to spare our rest day and stay for the following night. The next day, we discovered that the generosity of the town was not just luck encounter, but a seemingly universal truth. We were invited for dinner at the pastor's house for taco salad at 6:00...again. Beautiful. While we were there we were told that there was a tornado warning coming directly towards, and to take cover. Luckily it didn't hit the town, but was exhilarating all the same.

One last thought about Lindsborg: IT HAS A CASTLE! How amazingly cool is that?

Marion, Kansas:

The hospitality of Kansas continues... After rolling into a totally deserted town due to the entire town partaking in Sunday Mass, we ate lunch in a "God Bless America" gazebo, and ran into another synchronistic friend. As part of the documentary we go around towns and ask cyclists we see about why they ride their bikes. In this case, the biker we asked happened to be Harry Bennett, just about the only local in town who rides his bike. We asked if it'd be possible to chat in the park for a bit after discovering he was not only an avid rider (carrying a running record of 100's of days going without using a car) but also an organic farmer and highly knowledgeable about environmental issues. After having an amazing talk, he was kind enough to invite us to stay the night in his house (meaning a warm bed! YES!) and tour his organic farm. That night we went for a picnic in the Flint Hills (an area of beautiful rolling hills and flowing grass) as part of a Japanese movement to not use electronics for two hours. We met a friend of his who recently got back from his second time working at the South Pole, and were schooled in all of its wonders. Very neat stuff. The combination of organic homegrown food, a shepard's dog I found and adopted as my BFF, and bight pink thunderheads contrasting against the golden hills...it was basically of divine proportion.

Emporia, Kansas:

Yet again, Jung would be proud. After meeting up with Remy's sister, Anne Caroline, and finding a safe haven in an air conditioned coffee shop, we happen to run in to another incredible person: Ben Stallings. Ben had recently cycled across the United States for an entire year and fully aware of the blessing that hospitality is, he offered to stay at his house. Interestingly enough he was also an expert about environmental sustainability, permaculture gardening, and minimizing electricity usage. A dinner of fried rice with vegetables from his garden and a bike ride to a delicious ice cream shop- we couldn't be more appreciative.

More so, however, I am personally appreciative of Ben and his wife for their kindness. Emporia was my last hope for a new pannier rack, seeing as mine was dying a spoke snapping death. Unfortunately the bike shop did not have anything remotely suitable and a new trailer was out of the question financially. As a product, Ben offered to let me use the trailer he took with him around the country. It's sentimental value must be vast. Especially considering the trailer is a handmade model originally used as a bicycling recycling carrier in the city, in places cars were unable to go. This particular model was made of the very aluminum recycled by the program. I am touched, thankful, and honored to be able to ride with it. Although my legs are taking a bit to adjust to the added weight, considering the trailer is larger than my bike and twice the weight of my stuff, I am inconceivably thankful. :) There is something to be said about passing on kindness.

FINALLY:
We are now in Clinton, Missouri. Just met up with the two other riders for California, Stephanie and Ryan. After two days of heat, winding gravel back roads, Amish communities and 12 hour days of non-stop peddling...I am pleased to be here. Clinton marks the starting point to the Katy Trail, which is an old railway bed converted to a bike path that spans Missouri. Saying goodbye to paved roads until St. Louis is a little bit sad, especially since I am the only rider with lame-o road tires, but it should be fun.

Anywho...time is running out, my fingers hurt, and you're probably overwhelmed with words, so I will stop. Thanks to all who have donated, we really appreciated your support.

Dirty, gleeful, passion filled, and blessed with friendship, tata for now.

Check out our video so far.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4jBy4rjBpQ&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Efacebook%2Ecom%2Fprofile%2Ephp%3Fid%3D513132427%26ref%3Dmf&feature=player_embedded

Hitchhiking and Joy

Hoisenburg, Kansas.

Ahhhh *sigh of relief* we are finally safe and snug between the cool (air conditioned) walls of, yet another, public library. I have a feeling this post will be rather unpoetic, since today was by far our longest ride and the first time I experienced what is known in the biking world as "bonking." Bonking basically refers to a condition where your glucose reaches too low of a level your body starts eating up muscle instead of fat. Not fun. Every five miles would seem like 20. Luckily Lucy, being the keen biker lass that she is, saw my fading physique and made me stop for some peanut butter sandwiches below a "Choose Life; Your Mother Did" billboard along the road. It was fascinating though, I could literally feel the sugar hitting my blood stream. And man...it was a delight to be fully glucosed out again. :)

Besides that, things have gotten a little bit wild, and a while-lotta-bit-awesome since I last wrote. Ranging from pseudo-hippy dancing jam sessions in park gazebos, wheat field bodily relief, and a smorgasbord of traditional farming personas. Yesterday when we were riding we saw a massive pickup truck pull off the side of the road in the distance, and a squat 70 year old man waddle his way to our side. As we neared, we could hear him hooting and hollering at himself about how he forgot his money back in his pickup. We gratefully told him we were thankful for his gesture, but it wasn't necessary. Soon after, the tenacious old man, backed up his pickup at about 50 miles an hour and made his way back to us with two dollar bills in hand. We ended up listening to an in detail narration of his family's dating history, and the fact he is the best oatmeal cook in all of Kansas. People are beautiful. When be rolled in to Ness City I bought a lemonade with the dollar. I hope the cycle of giving is perpetuated.

Last night we camped with a big group of tourers going the other way, most of them in their mid-60's. I am impressed how many elderly people cross the country on bike. They all seem to have the motto "if you don't use it you lose it." and it seems to work. This morning we decided to wake up at the crack of dawn (to be more exact, before the crack of dawn) and get going before the heat and humidity of dear Kansas decided to plague our ability to ride. The plan seemed peachy, getting out of camp around 6:00 in time for a magenta and yellow sunrise....but, of course, the universe had a richer plan in mind. Remy's tire, after an evening of fixing the first flat, decided that one wasn't enough. Usually this wouldn't be a problem, except we realized the day before we'd left our only bike pump on some abandoned highway road side. Loaded down with gear and unable to ride, we found ourselves with no other choice but to hitchhike to the nearest town. (DISCLAIMER: before you get all hot and bothered about the dangers of hitchhiking, which I of course am fully aware of and equally concerned, it should be noted the general population here is comprised of gentle, community oriented farmers. It seems like everyone leaves their doors open at night and the kids play care free. It is amazing how safe some places of the U.S. can be). To put a long story short, we made it to the next town, learned about the oil business along the way, and were able to patch Remy's tire to near perfection.

Later on today we found ourselves at the junction point of two major routes that would take us to Missouri: we could turn either North or South. If we went South, we'd stay on the touring route, but lose about a day and a half of riding. But if we went North, we'd go off the route, not guaranteeing camping, but save having to go unnecessarily south. And, on a whim, we turned our bikes North and took off. The ride was probably the hardest so far, tons of little dipping hills and strong headwinds. But when we finally arrived to Hoisenburg, we were lucky enough to stumble upon a community swimming pool. Most of the swimming pools in Kansas have free showers, and we pulled in hoping they'd take mercy on our cause. After a few jokes with the owner, not only did she let us use the showers, she also gave us free admission to the pool. It was hilarious: three totally disgusting bikers in their spandex and jerseys weaving in and out of hundreds of beach ball bouncing children. I don't think I've ever been so pleased.

Anyways...lots of love. Have to go beg Churches for a place to stay tonight. Life is beautiful. I am not sure if I've felt this alive for quite some time. Hip-hip-horay for biking and grunge!

Farms and Hippy Cognitions

Three cheers from Scott City, Kansas! Just rolled in after an excruciatingly hot (but ridiculously fun) day. This was actually our first cloud free ride, and I am amazed how much the plains can heat up. The majority of the ride today was road sandwiched in between massive, GMO wheat and corn farms (surprise surprise), accompanied by low flying pesticides planes. If anything shocked me the most, it was the sheer amount of chemical being dropped from the tail end. Tons and tons of synthetic spray, I am amazed that the crops have even enough oxygen to grow. The other part of the ride was dominated by fields of mass producing beef and dairy farms, with cows stacked in between fences like match sticks. There were a few moments as we were stopping along the road I really wanted to pull a "hippy saves animals from zoo" moment. It is so sad that animals, living sentient beings, are being treated like they are already packaged artificial cuts. :( Two big poos on the treatment of animals and the farming conditions of the U.S.

Conclusion: there is sanity in organic foods. I just might be a permanent convert.

Last night we stayed in an incredible park at the end of town, brimming the edges of a vast seascape of grasses. The neat thing about this area is you can virtually see forever. So as the sun set, we watched a massive thunder head pulsating pink against the blackened sky from a fence post. There is certainly something to be said about the humbling power of nature.

Today also marked Kelly's second "I am being a distracted spazz" crash, luckily only cutting up the same knee that was gashed before. I think I may be lopsided to the left or something. :) Either way, it was worth the smancy dance moves that preceded it. I've discovered a new passion: disco via bike seat. Hot stuff.

Anyways...Internet is about to run out, and I am pretty sure my stench is scaring the innocent Amish girl to my right. Besos from no man's land.

Currently I am sitting, sunburnt and haggard, in between two crayon hypnotized children at the kid's corner of the Tribune public library (yes, at one of those mini desks with the mini plastic chairs). It is quite the sight. Welcome to Kansas!

Although we've only been riding for three days now, I feel like months have passed. So much to take in at once. Lucy told me that the areas we'd be going would give me a taste of culture shock in my own country of origin. And....she was right. These little towns astound me that they are standing. The largest town we've passed through had a total population of about 9,00. Most of them have only a quarter of that. It really does seem like we've gone back in time. Rarely can we find a store open past 4:00 in the afternoon, a drugstore, grocery store and or a place with Internet access are all diamonds in the rough. It is as if some of these towns catalyzed in the 1950's and then froze in their tracks only 5 years later. Quite literally, nothing has changed. It really makes me think: this must be how life used to be. No corporations, only locally owned businesses, no Internet, rarely phone service. Although bizarre, it is almost comforting to me. I feel like I am more in touch with reality. Not sucked up in to a web of computer oriented existence. Last night (in Eads, CO) I sat under a tree and watched the moon move slowly, yet persistently, through the brilliant sequences of stars. It was placid. I am relishing in the rawness of this all. We go to bed when it is dark, wake when it is light, eat when we are hungry, and live according to the elements. We've come to the conclusion that living on a bike is much like what it was like to live as a nomadic hunter/ gatherer. We move for food, work in tribes, have temporary homes, and exist in tune with the world around us. It is dangerous how very appealing this way of life is. :)

I guess I should talk about bit about the events that have taken place so far. We started out in Boone, CO...which is just about the most fascinating place I've ever been in my entire life. Hahaha. Wow. A three block strip of deserted buildings with an hourly coal train that runs parallel (which, as we discovered the during the night, might explain the profound abandonment). After only about 5 minutes of avocado sandwich munching, we were accosted by an overly friendly man named Larry (who proved to be our entertainment for the next day and a half). Someday I want to come and write a book about this man's life (as well as his compulsively beautiful lies). He took us on a tour of his house, clad with the finest random auto parts, trinkets, and sand floor, as well as the rest of the 1/3 of the town he had bought since wrecking his motor home there 5 years ago (which adds up to about a block of property). We found ourselves hunched over peanut butter jars listening to our new friend Larry expound stories of personal Korean concubines, miles of king catered food, and hitchhiking across the country in a wheel chair. Each story morphed in to something stranger. Like I said, this personality was beyond book worthy.

The next day we headed off to Sugar City, where we were greeted with a tornado watch, Christan picnics and blaring rap music. Welcomed with open arms we were handed bags with far more nectarines and potato salad than is feasibly possible to consume/carry on a bike by enthusiastic Latino women. We put up camp, played Frisbee and strummed guitar and we watched the clouds for the alleged tornadoes. Luckily the weather passed and we watched the sun set behind a massive yellow caboose haphazardly placed in the middle of the city park.
The next day we rode to Eads, CO (our first 60 miles day) and ended up sitting in a gas station philosophizing about the world for four hours (which if you know me at all was quite pleasing).

Today we passed in to Kansas and at the end of a 60 mile ride were greeted with a (much needed) cold shower and public pool. Kansas thus far has proved every stereotype I had about it wrong. For one thing: it is gorgeous. My breath is taken away by how multifaceted grass can be. The hues are dynamic. We've seen a slew of wildlife, including gazelles, turtles (I named Milton), rodents, and several falcons/hawks (note: sam legrys). It's been beautiful. I love being able to see the curvature of the earth collide with colbalt sky. Simplicity.

Tomorrow will be a shorter ride, and I am not sure the next time I'll have Internet. But I miss you all and will try my best to stay in touch. In 4 days we meet up with another large portion of the group...which will be wonderful. It is actually amazing how many bike tourers you meet up with (but interestingly enough very, VERY, very rarely women).

Welp...I am almost out of time. But hi from the plains, alive and ecstatic.
Check out our homepage at www.fromthesaddle.org to see some awesome videos of us so far. We're able to record them from Remy's phone and send them as text messages to the sight. There is already a few posted so far. :) Love to all.