Day 26: Greenville a Paris
With a belly-full of breakfast thanks to the Wesley United Methodist Church of Greenville, Texas, the team set off in a north-easterly direction. In past days, this direction would mean a hefty tail wind, but today 15-20 mph gusts plagued us from the north and east. Although the day was relatively short at 56 miles, wind seemed to come at us from every direction!
After 3-4 hours of hard pedaling, riders were rewarded with lunch under the Eiffel Tower of Paris, Texas. The tower is a 70 foot replica of the Tour d’Eiffel topped with a red cowboy hat and acted as the backdrop for our staged ride-by captured on tape by the local TV station. Katie and Jody were interviewed by the Parisian anchorman from Paris Local TV 99.
The First United Methodist Church of Paris fed us dinner and we have set up for the night at the Student Life Center. Although the small town had little in the way of a classic café, the center piazza boasted a beautiful fountain perfect for afternoon reading, and riders found internet and good beer at the Jaxx Burger joint.
That’s the long and short of our day to Paris. On a more important note, I wanted to say something about bagels…
There are many ways to Bagel
- the Ride for World Health Repertoire
Bagels and Cream Cheese: the classic.
Bagel P&J: inevitably your lunchtime choice when there is no bread.
A Bagel, plain, nothing else: more interesting than it sounds if you consider the many kind of bagels Einstein's gives us... cinnamon, blueberry, green chili, six cheese, spinach florentine, chocolate chip...
Bagelwich: cheese, turkey, mustard, and lettuce and tomatoes if you can find any
Toasted Bagel: a rare delicacy on this trip and one we partook in this morning thanks to the generosity and attention of the Greenville Methodist community.
Bagel Pizzas: a feat Team Strawberry undertook for a delicious dinner item.
Bagel Chips: the only way to enjoy a stale bagel, dipped in hummus, preferably.
And still to be attempted in the R4WH kitchens: Bagel Bread Pudding, Bagel Croutons, Bagel Dumplings, Bagel French toast
~ Heidi
Day 25: Fort Worth to Greenville
This was a Sunday ride. We started off after a great day off at the cabin site in Fort Worth. We had two cabins with 12 bunk beds in each. Two nights of sleeping on mattresses…amazing
We had to rack the bikes for the first 10 miles out of town as Fort Worth isn’t a very bike friendly city. After that we had a solid 30 miles into a strong headwind. However, once this jaunt was complete, we turned right onto Route 380 East carried by a 20 mph tailwind. Many of us cruised at very fast speeds for the remaining 50 miles. We picked up Heidi at the local Starbucks in Denton, TX as she was staying with a friend. She jumped right in with the lead group and peddled toward lunch. Team Clover organized a tasty lunch at the 58 mile mark supplemented by some girl scout cookies sent along by Megan’s mom.
Unfortunately, due to construction, we had to rack again at 80 miles and drive into our destination of Greenville. At the Methodist Church we were delighted to be served a delicious Mexican dinner with numerous dessert options. As you can see, sweets are in no short supply on this trip. Some people trekked over to the local bowling alley/sports bar and grille to catch the Utah Jazz easily handle the Denver Nuggets. Jen, Maggie, Jody, and Timmy played a game of shuffleboard before turning in for the night. Lights out at 10pm. We hear there’s a headwind in store for us tomorrow as we head up to Paris, TX.
~Pete
Day 23: Ranger to Fort Worth
36 Hours in Fort Worth
“Everyone thinks I died in Deadwood. They shot me, and buried me. But I was still alive, so I got out, and now I’m here talking to you fine folks.” This from a man with white hair flowing down his shoulders, and a white mustache to match. He was dressed as a gentlemen gunfighter from the 19th century American west, and claimed to be none other than Wild Bill Hickok. As he stepped into the driver’s seat of his blue pickup he stated he had to bring the money he earned tonight home to Calamity Jane, so she’d let him drink beer.
In other words, welcome to Fort Worth, Texas.
My time in Fort Worth was filled with about as much wonder as could be had in any city in a day and a half. On our approach to the YMCA camp in Fort Worth that would be our home for two nights after another long but enjoyable century ride, Libby exclaimed, “Whoa! Did anyone see that?” I looked up just in time to see a fireball off on the horizon, and then a large black cloud of smoke. The firestorm came from the local Air Force Base, and next thing I heard was the sound of three fighter jets roaring off in a perfect triangular formation.
We’d passed by several military proving grounds on our trip, but usually they’re in the middle of scrubland, not on a military base in the middle of a major city. My next instantaneous thought was that we were under attack from Mexico. I wondered if I could summon the courage of Patrick Swayze when he lead a group of High School students in a guerilla war against a combined strike from Mexico, Cuba and the Soviet Union in the movie Red Dawn. I still don’t know what caused that explosion, but it was quite a way to enter Fort Worth.
That night, Jess’ family graciously provided dinner for us, and after we voraciously devoured the meal, we were off to Old Fort Worth for some revelry. Old Fort Worth combines the nightlife and bar scene that every town aspires for with a western feel that is unique to Fort Worth. It is focused around the Fort Worth Stockyards and the Cowtown Coliseum, which is the oldest indoor Rodeo venue in the United States. After a brief walk through the streets, where open container laws are apparently not enforced, I ended up saddled up to the bar at Risckey’s Steakhouse with Pete, Chris, Adam and Tim, where we watched some basketball and drank to Tim’s being awarded a large scholarship.
After closing down the bar, we headed over to Lola’s where the rest of the team was enjoying a local bluegrass band. A couple of Patriots later we were all ready for some good music and dancing. As the night started to get hazier we made our way back toward the van, stopping by a local Taco shop for some of the best late night fare ever (and some Pineapple Fanta for a very excited Bryce).
But the best part of the night was sleeping on real beds back at camp, and rolling over at 6:30 in the morning, knowing you could sleep as long as you pleased. I woke up late the next morning in a mild state of veisalgia. The word veisalgia comes from the Norwegian word kveis, which translates to “uneasiness after debauchery.” Uneasiness after debauchery? Check.
But I couldn’t circle the toilet all day, so I grabbed a doughnut graciously provided by Justin’s aunt and uncle and we were off to a “barbecue” hosted by the medical students our group had talked with the day before. They were hosting this event as a medical screening for immigrant children in the area. We ate some good Indian food, chatted with our colleagues about global health issues, and were off to do the other menial tasks that keep our ride progressing: namely visiting a bike store and going to the CVS.
Chores done, we got back to camp in time for a pleasant afternoon cleaning and tuning KITT, while Miles Davis played on the computer. With a happy bicycle and a quick shower, we were off to sample the staple of Texan cuisine: steak! We found a place called Sawgrass Steakhouse that had good reviews, but didn’t break the bank. I ordered a 7 oz. Filet Minion cooked to the chef’s preference, and received a perfectly seared medium rare steak with baked sweet potato overflowing with butter. After sharing an ice cream sundae I was in gustatory meltdown! How Brian and Travis were able to put down 22 oz. Porterhouses I will never know. As I was trying to keep from exploding in the back of Gray Goose (our Gray 12 passenger van), Roshan drove us back to the Stockyards, where the Rodeo was about to start.
There are certain experiences that life calls on each of us. If you are in Fort Worth, you must see the Rodeo. Two hours of bull riding and bronc busting, and even a chance for Lauren to get out in the arena and shake her bootie. For $14, it is much more fun than any movie. As we headed back toward the YMCA, our stomachs replete with steak and our minds replete with cowgirls, I had a revelation: I love Fort Worth! I’m not sure I’ve ever said a good word about the Lone Star State, but Fort Worth is a genuinely cool town, and in this time of economic downturn, it remains vibrant and prosperous.
If you ever find yourself bicycling across the country, you need to spend at least 36 hours in Fort Worth, Texas.
~ Andy
Day 22: Abilene to Ranger
That’s The Team Lemon Style
We were awakened by lights first, at 5:40am. Then at 6:00am there was an announcement and music, to try and get those of us sleeping in the gym or the roller-skating rink up. I am part of team Lemon, and we were on support for the day. We had planned on getting everyone up at 6:45am and on the road by 7:45am, but the First Baptist Church had other plans and eager people outside waiting to get in and use the facilities. So we got an earlier start, but the church did have complimentary coffee to complement our early start. In the end though, we did just barely make out goal of getting everyone on the road by 7:45. That’s the Team Lemon style.
I was in the water stop/lunch van for the day, which I hadn’t done before, which gave me the opportunity for a number of photos of the group during the day. After heading out of Abilene, we caught up with Jess at a stoplight, where Bryce and I surprised her by pulling up next to her and blasting Amy Grant’s “O Come All Ye Faithful”.
We continued on to set up our water stop and had some last minute route changes that Lauren orchestrated for us. This involved her personally visiting the D.O.T., which none of us were the least surprised by her thoroughness and skill in last minute route planning. We raced on to set up the lunch for the team, which I like doing because you get to see the whole team during the day.
Maggie, Jen, Roshan & Katie speeding along
Adam, Jeff & Tim cruising by
Pete, stripping off his arm warmers
Justin, drafting the van at 40 mph for a freakishly long time
I think the group enjoyed the end of their ride to Ranger. I know Katie had her group stop a court where a famous toad was trapped in the basement for 28 years without food and water. I’m still not sure quite how this fact was uncovered. How do you know a toad is 28 years old?
Once in Ranger, Heidi took care of dinner for us, and managed to cook up two Indian dishes in about 20 minutes. She also baked some naan, which she actually started preparing while driving sweep in the van. After dinner, our group took advantage of the many diversions the First Baptist Church had to offer – a pool table, a ping pong table, and karaoke. I’m sorry to say that I missed karaoke, but I did hear that the ad libbed lyrics were better than the originals. After today it’s time for a good night’s sleep before a century ride to Ft. Worth.
-Jody
Day 21: Sweetwater to Abilene
We are still in Texas. The wind is still blowing (but the windmills did not taunt us today) and there is finally sun and gorgeous wild flowers along the highway. Given the fact that there is not too much new to report and in a sort of tribute to the name of Sweetwater, let me take this time to reflect on water and give this fabulous substance its time in the spotlight. Take a moment to think through your day—how much fresh water do you use? You take a shower, flush the toilet, make coffee, rinse and wash breakfast dishes, and brush your teeth—and this is just in the first 30 minutes after you wake up in the morning. You have 16 more waking hours every day.
Why am I asking you to think of this? Because what you and I take for granted every day is only a dream to billions of people around the world. Children all over the world spend up to 12 hours every day collecting water for their families and are thus unable to attend school. This water is collected from dirty rivers or lakes that are simultaneously used for laundry, bathing, and defecating, as a garbage dump, and are a breeding ground for countless bacteria and parasites. Every day, two thousand children die from diarrheal diseases directly attributable to dirty water. Clean, fresh water is a luxury that most of us completely forget to notice.
We are equally guilty of this. We finish our rides and cannot wait to jump in the shower (or hose as the case may be), we fill our water bottles every 20 miles and carry around 3 coolers filled with water every day—without thinking of the children and families around the world who may have never actually washed in pure water, much less had the opportunity to drink it.
In all honesty, the reason I choose to devote today’s blog to water is because our water stop was stolen today. Poor Jody perseverated on the lack of a water stop for miles! I am going to assume that the one who took the water cooler, animal crackers, and power bars was in need of fresh water and nutrition. Yes, we like our water and snack stops but we don’t really need them—we had a great ride sans water stop. Since one of the goals of our ride is to support people around the world in need of sanitation, nutrition, and medical care, let’s hope our water cooler and food went to someone more in need of these things than we were.
~Lauren
Day 20: Lamesa to Sweetwater
We’re in Texas now. I don’t think anyone had guessed that this would be the coldest and wettest we’d be so far on this trip. Great luck for our second century ride this year.
*disclaimer: I was driving a support van today and will try to do justice to the story for those who rode.
This morning began with the realization that we had moved into a new time zone but only travelled 70 miles the day before which left it dark when we wanted to start riding. With a short delay, some riders decided it would be great to start the morning with a coffee and left into the dimly lit dense fog. The coffee was delicious but was probably soon forgotten as everyone was enveloped by thick fog that soaked through clothes and chilled the riders whether they were moving or not. There was a cold wind to accompanied the wetness and soaked up any excess heat that the riders had to keep warm.
We placed lunch at mile 58 and cleared the 12-person van so that riders could sit inside to eat while the heater thawed everyone before they got back on the road. The riders truly appreciated this and really did not want to leave the lunch stop to get back on the road. Several people joked that they wanted to stay with us for the drive into Sweetwater. The fog was finally lifting by 11AM but a cool wind was still slowing the riders on the road. As we approached Sweetwater, we saw mile after mile of wind-farms with enormous windmills. It was almost as though the windmills were taunting the team as they harvested the same headwind that was blowing into each rider’s face. Luckily, Sweetwater welcomed us with less wind and a bit of sunshine to sit in as the riders trickled in from the 103 mile trip.
We finished our day with a journal club discussion on child soldiers in the DRC. It is truly appalling to hear stories of what these children endure. We split into small groups to discuss what the children go through, what the ultimate consequences are, and to discuss ways that we can help. It was a rather heavy discussion and perhaps the most educational journal club for many of us.
~Jeff
Day 19: Hobbs to Lamesa
We officially waved goodbye to New Mexico today as the Ride for World Health team pedaled 70 miles to Lamesa, Texas. Today was a support day for team clover also known as Megan Buller, Brian Dishong, and Chris D’Ardenne, and myself (Sarah Voss). Chris and I gave three lectures in the morning to the students of Hobbs High School. Our third lecture of the morning was awesome and I’d like to give a shout out to the AP environmental class at Hobbs High. They were interactive, had an exceptional baseline knowledge of global health issues, and I think that they enjoyed my pronunciation of “Haaaabs.”
Our fourth lecture of the day took place on the campus of New Mexico Junior College at the Cowboy Hall of Fame. What a place! It took me all of an hour and a half to realize that the cowboy sitting by the campfire wasn’t real. Here we spoke to a large audience of student athletes who clearly met their mandatory team service/education requirement for the day. Go thunderbirds!
Our evening came to a close with a team spaghetti dinner, prepared by team clover, featuring “VOSS sauce” and a seventh grade pick-up football game in the football stands of Lamesa High School. The team loved my Mom’s spaghetti sauce and has not stopped talking about it for the last three days. Apparently Justin Hepker has come to the conclusion that “VOSS sauce” is still good even after three days in a cooler. Hmmm he is VERY BRAVE. As for the seventh grade football game, our team heckled and cheered on nine talented football players until they eventually challenged our boys to join in. On the very first down Peter Croft tackled a seventh grader with such skill that even James Laurinaitis would be jealous. The seventh graders then agreed that maybe they might want to play two hand touch football instead, a very good call indeed!
~Sarah
Day 18: Carlsbad to Hobbs
A day of (mis)adventure
Today was a day of firsts for this year’s Ride. It was also a day for a little misadventure. For the first time since we started, all 20 of us were able to ride in one peloton for most of the day. According to the great online conglomerate of pseudo-reliable information that is Wikipedia, riding in a peloton can reduce drag by up to 40%. That’s big stuff when you consider that we usually ride some 70 miles a day. Things went great for the first 45 or so miles. Really great, in fact. Riding is such a big group was a huge rush for many of us new to cycling. We got to take turns pulling in the front taking the brunt of the wind, then would slide to the back of the pack where we could roll along with the rest of the group while hardly pedaling. All the while we saw some great scenery and cruised some quiet country roads. Then came the excitement. Around mile 45 I was taking my turn riding at the front of the pack. I heard a couple of shrieks from behind me then the sound of metal hitting metal. I quickly stopped my bike and turned around to see some eight riders in a pile in the right lane of the road. Arms, legs, and bikes were entangled in one giant web. It was the first major crash of our ride. The rest of the group quickly called for help and got the fallen riders out of the road. A quick survey of the fallen riders showed some road rash, some sore muscles, and a few bruised egos, but thankfully nobody was hurt seriously. A few of the bikes didn’t fare so well, requiring some repairs from a local bike guru in Hobbs and one required the care of a bike shop further down the road. The rest of the ride went well, and we continued the adventure into Hobbs. A simple trip to fill up the gas tank of the cargo van led to my last misadventure of the day. A pillar got in my way while trying to pull into the gas station. I managed to put a small dent into the side of the cargo van and became the last rider to get into a wreck for the day.
-Brian
Day 17 Guadalupe Mountains NP to Carlsbad
Riders set their alarms early in order to get to Carlsbad, NM. Everyone emerged from their tents in the Guadalupe Mountains and started packing up. Things were going well until we tried to access the bikes. Though we have been locking the bikes routinely over the past few weeks, somehow we could not find the key to the Master lock that was securing the industrial strength chain that was wrapped around the bikes. So began a search for the correct key. About twenty keys were found. Nevertheless, after about three different people tried each key in the lock, the bikes remained chained together. At this point, we got resourceful and tracked down a nice fellow camper with tools. Our Riders tried to show off their brute grip strength by attacking the bike chain with wire cutters. After several people had unsuccessfully showcased their skills, it was time for a hacksaw. It took Maggie and Pete to hold the bike chain while Fujii sawed. After several minutes, our bikes were finally freed, and the ride commenced.
Even though, it was only a 37 mile day, the ride was miserable. The Riders anticipated a day that involved mostly descents. Typically, when biking downhill, our Riders can average 20-30 mph without pedaling. Today, with intense headwinds, our Riders averaged approximately 13 mph downhill with furious pedaling. Furthermore, despite breaking out the cold weather gear, the Riders were freezing. Then, large rain droplets started falling from the sky. The combination of the cold, wind and rain made this a tough day. Riders were rewarded, however, with steaming cups of hot chocolate and a trip to Carlsbad Caverns.
The Caverns were amazing! Many Riders have never seen underground caverns like this before. Together we entered the “Natural Entrance Route,” a route that descends 750 feet into the Earth down winding, steep trails. Signs along the trail taught us how billions and billions of drops of water have created cave formations including stalactites, stalagmites, soda straws, draperies and popcorn. The resulting structures were breathtaking. This underground world is not one that the Riders will forget any time soon, and helped to end the day in a positive way.
~Lenore
Day 16: El Paso to Guadalupe Mountains NP
Morning
The sun was rising as we assembled in the parking lot of the El Paso Holiday Inn. Off in the distance, Ciudad Juarez shook itself awake. We were short one rider, Sam, who was on a plane to Louisville around that time. Unfortunately, more than anyone, Sam would have appreciated what was ahead of us. Some riders were excited and said so. Others, however, nervously bounced back and forth between the food, pumps, and water…just to make sure. I wasted precious time scrambling to find a water bottle that had disappeared for the third time in two weeks. I was busy pumping up my tires and didn’t quite hear all of the route details. I did overhear John Haveman telling some of the riders something about a five mile climb at the end of the day. What I must have missed was that, we still had to climb out of El Paso. Also, few us knew that we’d spend the better part of the day battling a headwind prior to our monster climb. We all were stuck on the main detail though; today was to be the first century (100 mile) ride of the trip.
We rolled out of town on a smooth two-lane highway. It was early enough that traffic wasn’t a problem. We did have to stop at a number of traffic lights until we reached the suburbs. After about an hour, the highway became quieter, amplified by the open landscape. The climb began innocent enough. In fact, as the road gradually sloped, one of the riders even asked, “Wait, are we going up or something? I can’t figure out what’s wrong with my legs.” For the most part, we shed the morning chill by mile two. It became clear that we were climbing through a canyon and that the road would snake its way up and over some invisible pass. The first water drop was located about half way up the climb. We reluctantly stopped, worried about getting cold again. Shortly before the rest, we realized that the wind we were fighting would only get worse. After choking down stiff powerbars and topping off our water bottles, we climbed back onto our bikes. Pumping up the hill at a cadence of about 95 RPM, I was pretty sure that the Powerbar I had eaten never reached its final destination. It felt as if it were going to come all the way back up until about 30 minutes later, when we finally turned a corner and the road leveled off. We expected to find some sort of downhill to reward us for our efforts, but there wasn’t one. Instead, we started to move through a series of slow rolling hills. Normally this would be fine and the momentum generated on a downhill would carry you at least halfway up the next hill. But, on this day, the wind had it out for us and it was a mild struggle just to get to the bottom of a hill. I was in a small group and we worked together, taking turns breaking the wind at the front. The terrain was fascinating…hilly, brown, brushy and occasionally marked by trailers or small ranch houses. For the first time in a while, we noticed clouds, which seemed to hang unusually low. Soon, we rode up to a border patrol check station. As we rolled through, we asked the agent attached to the german shephard if we needed to stop. He said yes, but before we stopped, the agent behind him said, “Ok, you guys have a nice day.” We interpreted that as a green light and rode on, wondering aloud how many cyclists they actually get out there. Eventually, the silhouette of the Guadalupe Mountains broke up the horizon. We snapped a few photos before the lunch van sidled up next to us and told us that there won’t be another stop for about 18-20 more miles. After filling our bottles, the van left and we worked our way across the Texas two-lane and against the wind.
Afternoon
At the lunch stop we received a surprisingly unfriendly welcome from the small café owner who wanted to charge us for using the bathroom. Most of us just went outside. We hung around the front of the café, inhaling peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, chips, and carrots. Some of us reapplied sunscreen and chatted with riders as they trickled in. After lunch, several of us formed a larger group, which was only kind of helpful as the wind came at us from an angle and we couldn’t draft very well. The best formation seemed to be a diagonal line with the person in front starting on the far left. Even if you were positioned correctly, however, you still ended up doing far more work than normal. And so it went. Tired legs taking tired pulls on a windswept swath of Texas.
By the time we reached our 80 mile stop, we were already getting a bit ragged. People milled about impatient and nervous. Our departure amounted to a collective let’s-get-this-over-with thrust. We crossed low lying swirls of red and white, know as salt flats, in virtual silence. The mountains were before us now and we were all trying to figure out what our approach would be. One of the support crew ahead had sent word that we were going all the way to the top, which towered more than 2,000 ft. above us. The road flexed its back and we began a gradual ascent. Some riders held back in anticipation, conserving energy for the meat of the climb, while others charged ahead. About a mile or two into the climb, one of the riders commented about how we might be protected from the wind. Almost on cue, we passed a large yellow highway sign that read, “Caution High Speed Winds Ahead.” We groaned and soldiered on. Shortly, we began to see semi trucks grinding up a hill to the right of us at about a 30 degree incline. That’s where we were headed, up the side of the mountain. The road dropped temporarily before hitting what seemed like a wall. We could see a rest stop part way up the wall of road and I decided that’s as far as I had to go. Once we got to the rest stop, I decided that the next sign was as far. This little mental game continued for miles as the climb isolated riders and each clicked into their own, very uncomfortable, rhythm. I knew that I had no gears left and I was going to be in trouble if the hill grew steeper. But, it didn’t. It couldn’t. Just when your legs started screaming and you didn’t think you could keep it up, another blast of wind would slap you in the face, causing your body and bike to strain. More than one rider admits to shouting at the wind, the hill, their legs, etc. And, to be sure, not all of this shouting was G-rated. Nope, all our ugliness boiled to the surface. The hundred miles had gotten the better of us and all we wanted was to get home. Finally after what seemed like hours of climbing (probably only 1), we crested, coasted into a rolling stretch and turned into Guadalupe National Park. At this point, there were all kinds of signs of support by riders, support crew, and van drivers. We rolled into camp sapped and somehow satisfied.
Evening
Riders trickled in for a couple hours. Each arrival elicited a number of cheers and words of encouragement from the others at camp. People stirred around camp, trying to keep from cramping up. Some of us decided that the best recovery drink would be Miller lite, while others went straight to the bathroom to rinse the day off of them. The support team cooked up a mean batch of chili and we all sat around recalling our day in vivid detail. It had been both brutal and beautiful. In fact, it may have been the most rewarding day of the ride. The sun dropped in tandem with the temperature at Guadalupe and soon we were hard asleep.
~Adam