FROM THE SADDLE
Ice cream stop with Laura Schroeder in Maine
Our team (from left) Liz Wakeman, Laura Schroeder, Cindi, Patty Holt and Karen Cooper
pilot on the five-hour flight. I took it as a good omen. I worked my way across the southern portion of the United States, dealing with sand and dust storms in Arizona; thunderstorms in Oklahoma; and mechanical issues with both the Rodriguez bike and the Litespeed Blue Ridge I brought along just in case. The adventure became one long session in problem solving. Besides riding the century, I often had to travel well over 200 miles (our longest distance: 330 miles from the north side of Bakersfield to Las Vegas) to get to our overnight stop. In the Southwest this was particularly grueling. Several nights we set up our camp in the dark. I rode through towering red rock formations in Utah. I had a herd of horses run alongside me in Oklahoma. I experienced the trifecta of cycling heartache in New Hampshire 10 American Bicyclist
when we rode in severe heat, hills, and headwinds. Water bottles were filled every time I stopped at the truck, and we literally went through a ton of ice. Dinner was sometimes the generous offering of the hosts with whom we stayed, a quick bite at a restaurant along our route, or a simple meal of chicken, rice, and vegetables when we got to our campground for the night. I knew I had turned a corner when we were riding in Vermont. The demanding ride in New Hampshire had given way to an idyllic ride, and we found ourselves looking for highway signs that included the suffix “west.” Highway 9 West. I-90 West. I was heading home. Alaska was my final state. In shorts and sandals, while woefully underdressed, I rode from Girdwood to Soldotna, where a high school friend was waiting with a bear hug.