After months of training, very little planning, a strip bar in Coos Bay that made Private Dancer look like the Playboy Mansion, and over 950 miles on a friggin' bicycle, we concluded our trip yesterday as we flew out of the San Francisco airport back to our homes.
Our journey turned out to be quite the conquest and probably more than I think we all bargained for. From the first day of riding in which we took on an 84 mile death march that included 5 climbs of over 1300 feet, to southern Oregon which turns out is a lot like southern Alabama and boasts the moniker of Crystal Meth capitol of America, to our warm welcome in San Francisco by the stunning transvestite population at a bar aptly named Stud. We saw some of the most majestic views I've ever taken in along our gorgeous Pacific Coast and throughout the Redwood Forest. We've bellied up to the bar with some of the finest small town folk you could ever hope to meet and we've learned that if you don't have a 50" plasma screen, well, a roaring campfire is a pretty good substitute.
It's been somewhat of a spiritual wandering as I struggled within myself to find some way, any way, to beat Carson or Jared just one damn time up a hill. However it was not to be, even though Carson dislocated his shoulder for the sixth, yes count 'em, sixth time which forced our trip to be cut short in San Francisco instead of L.A. (thank God). No doubt that the memories taken away will be positive and will also produce some of the funniest and weirdest stories in our respective catalogues.
I wanted to give thanks to those who gave us support along the way, and a special thanks to the hospitality shown to us by the generous members of G-Town West in Portland as well as our old friend Calder Lorenz who was gracious enough to show us a great time in San Fran. I also wanted to encourage everyone to find a journey of your own and get out there and see the world if you haven't already, it does wonders for your piece of mind to be able to step out of your day-to-day for a while.