America’s National Zoo and It’s Lesser Known Neighbor

The past week and a half has been a full force whirlwind of emotion, adventure, and scenery unlike any I’ve ever witnessed elsewhere in the world.  While I originally intended to only stay in Sheridan for one night I was easily convinced to stay for another, and then for the entire week until the 3rd of July celebration at a ranch out in the countryside.  After a much needed week off (my knees have been problematic but I just pretend they don’t exist so it’s alright) I ended up hitching a ride with fellow Couchsurfer David up into Yellowstone for a few days.  Some people might view this as cheating, and while I’ve avoided accepting rides at any point up until now it was something I honestly felt was both right for the moment and would overall make the trip a more enjoyable experience.  I will admit that I’m slightly down about missing two of the larger climbs of the trip (I’m not being sarcastic, I actually really enjoy insane climbs), but having someone to hang out and travel with for a few days was a welcome change after a mix of constant Hello, Goodbye’s in every town and Riding Solo for the past two months.

Lake Yellowstone in Yellowstone National Park

Needless to be said Yellowstone is breathtaking in its natural beauty, but unfortunately I found it to be somewhat floundered by the presence of constant traffic and an endless supply of tourists (the bad kind).  As a visitor myself, I entirely understand why everyone wants to visit Yellowstone given the amount of unique and unparalleled scenery to be found, but it’s reaching the breaking point where the park service needs to implement stronger visitor population restrictions.  As a national park its purpose is to remain as preserved as possible in its natural state for the benefit of future generations, a goal that will unfortunately remain only half fulfilled given its current visitor numbers (975,000 in July 2010 alone) and absurd extent of lodging developments situated throughout the park.

Approaching the Grand Tetons from the north.

After spending two days travelling around Yellowstone with David I hit the road on my bike again, veering south past the park boundaries and directly into its neighbor, Grand Teton National Park.  I find it odd how hyped Yellowstone is considering how incredibly more scenic I found its smaller cousin.  While smaller and less “tourist friendly” with its lack of roads leading directly to parking lots next to every major attraction as is the case in Yellowstone, the breathtaking majesty that is the Grand Tetons across Lake Jackson is more than enough for me.  Travelling along Park Road I found myself drifting through flat fields that intersect directly into the near perpendicular Tetons, a juxtaposition of horizontal and vertical landscape rarely found to such an extreme degree.  With their steep snow-covered granite faces, the only comparison I can currently make is to the Swiss Alps, but even then they each have their own differences.

The Grand Tetons over Lake Jackson

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Please consider donating to Architecture for Humanity’s fund to help rebuild Sendai, Japan following the Great Tehoku Earthquake & Tsunami this past March. All donations are tax deductible and are received directly by the charity.

Interstate Biking the Black Hills

No, not interstate as in “between states” (though that did happen), I mean biking on the actually interstate, as in I-90.  While it’s illegal to bike on the interstate (for good reason) in most states, it’s interestingly enough completely legal in North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, and Idaho.  This was a bit of a shock at first, though once you realize that these states often have a total population less than that of San Francisco it starts to make more sense.  Even when I-90 passes through the largest cities in South Dakota and Wyoming it remains a 2 lane divided highway with shoulders wide enough to drive a small car comfortably.  Despite the fact that cars and semi-trucks are racing past at 60-90mph, I’d honestly have to say that driving on the wide shoulder is by in large no more dangerous than biking around my hometown’s residential streets under the constant threat of soccer moms in minivans attempting to blindly run you down.  Now I can’t say I’d recommend biking on the interstate if there’s a reasonable alternative, but in my case there currently truly hasn’t been one for the past two days of biking without going hundreds of miles out of the way.  The rural highways that often became frontage roads during the Eisenhower era of interstate building were unfortunately absorbed by the interstates out here.

My last stop in South Dakota in the city of Spearfish turned out to be possibly be my favourite place in the entire state.  Nestled amongst the Black Hills, its a small town of 19,000 that has the qualities of both my hometown and feels like something you’d expect to find near Lake Tahoe.  The downtown may be small but is filled with a variety of restaurants, bars, and coffeeshops that kept me busy (mostly coffeeshops, I promise) for the 2 days I was in town.  My favourite by far had to be the Alpine Coffee Company on Main St that not only offers bottomless cups of relatively delicious coffee for $1.87, but also shares its central space with the bike shop next door.  As usual I took no pictures of the town or the surrounding area as every time I pulled out my camera I found myself unable to capture a picture that would truly embody what the town is really like, a problem I’ve run into on more than one occasion so far.

Today I get ready to push to the 200 mile mark into Wyoming as I bike to the town of Sheridan, where I’ll have my last stop before heading straight at the Bighorn Mountains and my first 10,000′ mountain pass.

The Martian landscape you find everywhere in Badlands National Park.

Looking out from the Pinnacles Overlook in Badlands NP

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Please consider donating to Architecture for Humanity’s fund to help rebuild Sendai, Japan following the Great Tehoku Earthquake & Tsunami this past March. All donations are tax deductible and are received directly by the charity.

Les Mauvaises Terres à Traverser

As I sit just outside Badlands National Park, I plan for several days of biking through everything from fast-eroding wasteland, the granite filled Black Hills, the plains of eastern Wyoming, and the extremely steep Bighorn Mountains.  While I my French speaking abilities are on par with that of a cactus plant in the Mexican desert, I put the title in French as it’s one of the origins of the term “badland”, literally translating to “land that is bad to cross.”  Nonetheless it is an amazing landscape of fast eroding peaks that only exist for a short period in the timeline of geological history.

Crossing the 1.5 mile wide Missouri River while a thunderstorm looms up ahead.

The journey across South Dakota has been one that as usual is taking longer than anticipated.  The threat of rain is almost always present, even on days when the skies appear blue and clear.  Despite this I’ve only had one major delay where I found myself stuck in the town of Winner, SD for an extra day as 4-7″ of rain came pouring down from above.  Thankfully I was able to stay out of it and enjoy free wifi at the ever persistent presence of McDonalds.  As much as I normally avoid fast food being able to have free wifi and unlimited [mediocre] coffee has been a bit of a routine amidst this nomadic lifestyle where nothing is constant besides the constantly changing landscape.

Just prior to entering Winner (I’m working backwards, I know) I ran into my first tourist other than myself in over 1000 miles, Daryl from Denver, Colorado.  Despite being a friendly guy, it seems he hasn’t been enjoying the touring life as much as some and is cutting his trip short  of Washington DC in Sioux Falls, where he’ll be renting a truck to go visit his kids up in Fargo, North Dakota.  His blog throughout his trip can be found at SpinforAmerica.com.

To add to the randomness of the people you meet on the road, I had the chance to meet David Richard, founder and president of Wheels for Humanity, who was motorobiking through the northern Midwest with his brother.  Wheels for Humanity is based out of North Hollywood and aims to provide wheelchairs in countries where they might otherwise not be easily available.  With operations in dozens of countries worldwide I’d say they’re meeting their goal rather well.  It’s random happenings like this that just go to show how much smaller the world really is these days.

The amazing Midwest clouds of which I'll never grow tired. Oddly enough 20 minutes after this photo was taken there wasn't a cloud to be seen in the sky.

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Please consider donating to Architecture for Humanity’s fund to help rebuild Sendai, Japan following the Great Tehoku Earthquake & Tsunami this past March. All donations are tax deductible and are received directly by the charity.

Minnesota to Dakota

After leaving Twin Cities I found myself entering gradually flatter and flatter landscape until today when it reached about as flat as it can get.  While my only company is typically cornfields and the occasional barking dog, I find myself enjoying what would be typically considered bland scenery.  Despite enjoying the solitude of riding my bike through the rural landscape I must admit that I still enjoy the contrast of entering a small town.  Everywhere I go I find myself eager to talk to anyone who will listen, whether it be about my biking adventure or just the local weather.  Some towns are more welcoming than others, with Fairfax, Minnesota ranking as possibly the friendliest town I’ve ever visited.  Immediately upon entering the restaurant/bar in their one-street downtown I found myself assaulted with conversation and questions about where I was from.  To top it off Tom and his wife Cheryl were kind enough to offer me a place to stay at their house on a small farm just outside of town.  Even going as far as cooking breakfast and dropping me off back in town in the morning, I can’t possibly thank them enough and will be sure to say hello should I ever find myself passing through western Minnesota again (who knows…it could happen).

Riding into the sunset, rain falling from the sky, crops at my sides, and music floating through the air

My last “large city” until Salt Lake City was Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a quaint urban island of about 152,000 people.  As the largest city in the state, its become clear how rural South Dakota really is with a population statewide that’s on par with San Francisco’s 800,000.  My CS host Kyle showed me around the downtown area and after an impromptu going away party for one of his friends we found ourselves at a local bar for the evening, something that my body didn’t let me forget as I rode 45 miles into the sunset the next day.  Now that I’ve left Sioux Falls I continue to ride straight west through repetitive farmland, admiring the sky and the small rivers I occasionally cross.  The weather has been decent for the most part (though tomorrow’s forecast warns of severe thunderstorms/hail) and has offered an array of incredible clouds and sunsets.

It just keeps going and going and going...

A grain silo painted to resemble a Pepsi can?

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Please consider donating to Architecture for Humanity’s fund to help rebuild Sendai, Japan following the Great Tehoku Earthquake & Tsunami this past March. All donations are tax deductible and are received directly by the charity.

Midwestern Weather Patterns…

…are near impossible to predict it seems. While I’ve had the good fortune of sunny weather for the past 2 weeks, I’ve finally ran headfirst into a week of “50% chance of isolated thunderstorms”. From what I’ve been able to gather this means that there may or may not be rain/thunder at any given place and time…maybe. I’m not criticizing weather forecasters as it’s a heck of a job to attempt to predict nature but moreso that it makes cycling more subject to interruptions and delays.

In the case of today I found that my rear rack had come undone with two screws missing. I thankfully had extras handy to fix the problem, but in the 10 minutes it took for me to dismantle all my gear, fix the rack, double check all other nuts/bolts, and put it back on the weather had gone from partly cloudy with a healthy bit of sun to one of the most intense isolated thunderstorms I’ve seen.

Looking back at the sun I'd enjoyed all day.

In a matter of minutes after reassembling all my gear the wind went from a comfortable <10mph breeze to 30mph+ gusts that threatened to knock me and my bike off the road. A minute after that the rain intensified and started to turn to hail, something that had always been a point of wonder and awe as a child in California. Unfortunately hail in the Midwest is no laughing matter, with forecasts for the possibility of 1 inch+ balls of ice falling from the sky. Thankfully this wasn’t the case and I was able to dive into the garage of local resident Cory for 20-30 minutes while the storm passed before continuing on through the mix of light rain and sun that spotted the rest of the day.

And then forward to the storm that I was fast intercepting as I moved forward.

Ride in Mid-Review: For What & Who?

I started this cross-country cycling adventure from Washington DC to San Francisco just over a month ago now, and it has been everything and more than I could have ever expected.  So far it has been the adventure of a lifetime and something I will absolutely not soon forget.

And yet, there is a certain aspect of the trip that has been difficult to emphasize — a portion that has been featured prominently within even the header of the page yet simultaneously pushed to the sidebar of the page — as seemingly important as the footnote of a research paper.  I refer of course to my riding to raise money for the charity Architecture for Humanity, the source and inspiration for the title of this site.

Sendai from above following the earthquake & tsunami

Based in my home city of San Francisco, Architecture for Humanity raises funds for the purpose of designing and building structures for people in need worldwide, ranging from Port au Prince in Haiti to Cape Coast in Ghana to their most recent endeavour and the beneficiary of my fundraising: Sendai, Japan.  With numerous awards to back the charity’s founding a decade ago, it continually reigns as one of the most efficient and effective active charities that continues to have a long-lasting impact on over 60,000 people worldwide, even after their primary role in each project ends.

Working with architects and the local communities who volunteer their time, Architecture for Humanity is able to design and build structures that not only often replace their dilapidated predecessors physically, but create a place of pride to the local population off which they can continue to grow as a community.  People often ask, “What kind of architecture do you want to do when graduate?”, and in the past I’ve been unable to offer a clear answer.  Now, while I still can’t give a specific category or style as to what I’d like to do as the options are near-infinite, I can say that I’d one day like to achieve what Architecture for Humanity does: creating places that both provide necessary functions and effect those who are in and around them to make both themselves and the world around them a better place.  It may seem silly as what architects design are technically just an organized construction of concrete, steel, wood, and glass to our visual senses, but like art when you look past the material reality of the object at view, they have the ability to inspire and change the world.

So from now on when someone asks what kind of architecture I want to do I’ll be sure to answer, “The kind that changes the world.”

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Please consider donating to Architecture for Humanity’s fund to help rebuild Sendai, Japan following the Great Tehoku Earthquake & Tsunami this past March. All donations are tax deductible and are received directly by the charity.