Your Pledge!

Dear Friends,

You've heard my story, or at least a few brief great moments in it. Now, I'm asking you to follow through on your pledge to Habitat for Humanity Philadelphia, Richele, and Me! On my trip from Philadelphia to Portland, OR via the Pacific coast I traveled just over FOUR THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED MILES (4704.9 miles to be exact). If you've pledged a "one time donation," no math is necessary. Just send that amount to the address below. If you pledged cents/mile, no worries, here's what to do:

(pledge)*(4700 miles)=donation

My pledge amount as an example:

(01 cents/miles)(4700 miles) = 4700 cents = $47

Please use the online donation form at http://www.habitatphiladelphia.org/donate/ and indicate in the appropriate field: in honor of "Jacks Bike Ride". If you'd prefer to mail your donation:

Habitat for Humanity
1829 North 19th St.
Philadelphia, PA 19121

check memo: "Jacks Bike Ride"

And be sure to include a RETURN ADDRESS so Habitat can mail you a thank you card and you can get your tax deductions!

Thanks for all your support! If anyone has any questions about the trip or donating, email me back, or call!

Much Love,
Jack

The Story

Dear Friends,
I know, I've been out of touch for a LONG time. Things have been really busy, on the road and now that I'm here, in sunny (not really) Portland. While heading north in Colorado, I was forced to skip my planned Boulder detour due to impending "bad weather" in Rocky Mt. National Park. It was sure good I did that too, because when I awoke the next day, right at the boarder of Wyoming, my tent was covered in snow! That was one of the most challenging moments on the trip; as I packed up my tent, fingers red, wind whipping up under my 2 coats, I thought, can I really endure this for weeks. Fortunately, as a I crossed a snowy boarder into Wyoming, and headed on to Saratoga and it's beautiful hot springs, the white snow thinned and eventually dissapeared. It was the last time I doubted.

Approaching Yellowstone Park, on my way to Montana, I could see a dark plume of smoke rising over the Grand Tetons. Wildfires were burning in both national parks and while I managed to make it to Old Faithful, b/c of smoke (and it's less than complimentary effects on breathing) I had to pass on most of the park. Oh well! The funneling affect brought loads (6!) of bikers together. Gene, a 60 year old marathon runner, and I road together through some unbelievable country during the next week. Sometimes he'd disspear for a day or two and than suddenly appear! Approaching a killer climb outside of Dillon (two consecutive passes of two thousand foot climbs over the next 40 miles fighting wind gusts of over 20 miles/hour), Gene fell into step with me, seemingly out of thin air. What would have been a heady challenge turned into a lark as Gene proceeded to chat about the biomechanics and chemistry of running, racing, training. Needless to say, when we parted way at Idaho, him toward home and his wife, me on to Lolo pass, it was a bit melencholy for me.

And Idaho was a blast! The greatest surprise of the trip. I had no idea how beautiful it would be. The great fur forests and abundant hot springs welcomed me, as did all the other travelers I met along Idaho roads. At the western end, was a grueling climb through curvy, wind swept, isolated Oxbow reservoir... but it was spectacularly beautiful. Before I knew it, I was in Oregon! What a state! I've been through great deserts, thickly overgrown forests and rocky shores. Crossing my last big Mountain, on toward the coast, McKenzie pass was a great last romp. Early morning chill and unussually clear skies on a road closed to large vehicles, at the top I looked out over ancient lava flows at Mt. Washington, smelling distant sea air for the first time in months, remembering the many mountains behind me, the first hills just outside Philadelphia and my first great climb in Shenendoah. Anticipating my one last great descent to come, on my way to the Oregon coast, I knew from here on out, it was going to be smooth sailing.

It's true, on the Oregon coast I got rained on more days than all the other rainy days combined throughout the rest of my trip; but it was a blast anyway. Traffic was fierce, for the first time in a long time, but the riding was just awesome. Ups and downs along precipitous bluffs overlooking seemingly infinite vistas. Returning from the coast to Portland was the hardest ride, the last little push of an awesome trip.

Sincerely,
Jack

Snow my bike the continental divide - 11000ft!

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Kicking butt at the City Museum

ghostly apparition emerging from foot is a child patron also having a rockin' time!

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St. Louis giving Philly a run for it's $$$

Where to begin!? One of the hardest entries yet; everything was just indescribably awesome. Symbolically it was a great stop to make: start of oregon trail. Stayed at Hucklberry Finn Hostel and received gracious hospitality from Becca who put up with my endless banter. On lulu's strong recommendation I visited the City Museum<c pic>, and was swept off my feet, sometimes literally. What I thought would be a short stop turned into my whole day! Scarlet, an employee there, was an awesome playmate and guide and made sure I still got my workout on my day off. Sweaty, bruised, and beat I made my way to the Loop, where Ponyo was playing... been waiting forever to see it! Scarlet met up with me there and we found other avid bicyclists all gathered for special screening of Veer, film about Portland bikers... Ahh! With the Tour de Missouri coming through in just a couple days, I felt like it'd be
easy to stick around and get swept up by St. Louis, but the west calls! (and the weathers chang'n!)

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Gateway to The West

before the west was to my right, now its to my left... Maybe I do need the GPS.

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Lulu Gene and Saint Louis's Jersey Style Pizza: rock

After crossing the mississippi on a ferry, and the missouri by narrow and lenthy bridge, I thought all the exciting water crossings were behind me. I was mistaken. On my way from Lulu's backyard in Saint Genevieve, still full from the dinner she took me to, heading toward Saint Louis, I encounter a detour that guides traffic onto the interstate where bikes aren't allowed, so, I ignore it. After crossing an, "out" bridge with no more effort than avoiding some traffic cones, I figure I'm scott free. Unfortunately, many miles later, there actually is a bridge... out, as in not IN existence. But no worries, Gene the roadside worker and avid bicyclist, on his last day before retirement, is there to help. Together we roll the bike into and out of the ravine. He sends me on my way in no time with heavy pockets for a real meal. Thanks Gene! At dinner, I somehow manage to win a 40buck tab so
Gene's gift becomes a nice tip.

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