Rudolph the Red-Nosed Biker

Priscilla called this morning from onboard a real live Australian ferry, eating some bacon for breakfast and getting ready to set sail for Nova Scotia-- I even heard the foghorn blow over the phone (and it had an authentic Australian accent-- who knew?)! She was very excited about the whole ferry business ("I'm so excited! I'm on a ferry! Seriously."), and in the middle of our conversation saw a five story cruiseship float past ("It's just like Love Boat!").

She slept well enough and was unbothered by all but a mosquito that bit her right on the tip of her nose. Her bedroom was, alas, a patch of grass behind some shrubs. Her view from said bedroom was considerably more impressive (see photo). Maybe the Portland Park District will read this blog, notice the fantabulous view, start marketing the patch of grass + sunrise as a luxury campsite, and end up inundated with cash. Then they'll be able to save, at the last minute, some very worthy children's program (Tap-Dancing for Tots, say) that was on the verge of collapse, and perhaps one of the tots will go on to be a world famous tap-dancing phenomenon and philanthropist who will look back and say "Well, folks, if it hadn't been for that plucky bicyclist Priscilla and her apt campsite scouting..."

She has been very much enjoying the view ("Wow! It's so beautiful! If nothing else, I'm just glad I'm here to enjoy the scenery!") and texted later to say she'd arrived at her destination (a right proper campground tonight by the Meteghan River) but that it had taken a little longer than she originally expected. Nova Scotia is rather windy and hilly so far, but rather gorgeous if the sunset photo in the text is any indication. I'd share that one with you as well, but it's on my phone and I don't know how to get it off.

Now that she's in Canada, it's somewhat expensive for her to call and send texts. Receiving texts is free (so text away if you like), and she's hoping to buy a calling card soon.

Correction: She didn't really necessarily coast for 17 minutes. There was a wee misunderstanding with the bike computer. Sorry.

17 minutes of coasting

Priscilla had a very productive day today. She biked 61+ miles at up to 32.5 miles per hour, which took her 5 hours and 40 minutes. If you get bored, you can calculate her average speed, her mean speed or maybe her median speed. Right, her median speed. You need more information for her mean speed, or is it her mode? You might also like to know she 17 of her biking minutes she was just coasting. Yes, unbeknownst to most people, Priscilla does occasionally coast. I've even seen her do it before. But! 5 hours and 23 minute of actual pedaling is still very impressive, don't you think? It really is.

And! She also went shopping today and bought some canned goods, flavored oatmeal (with cranberries-- muy delicioso!), plain oatmeal, and pasta. Then, ever resourceful, she went to a nearby garbage can which she used as a table and transferred the contents of the canned goods into baggies (not so heavy as the cans) and transferred the oatmeal into multiple baggies, each topped off with a bit of the flavored oatmeal, for a snappy breakfast option that's easily transportable and tasty but not cloying. And (she'll have you know) she is eating PLENTY. She is very well and adequately and properly nourished. So don't worry about that. No siree Bob.

Now, you're probably thinking "Wow, it's true, Priscilla really has been quite productive today. I mean, just look at all those things she's done." Well, folks, that's not all. That's just the tip of the ol' iceberg, really. She also met at least two other crazy long distance bikers and politely listened to their advice. She got her picture taken with Paul (her host from last night, the quintessential very nice yet particular old bachelor), which you can see somewhere on this post. And she picked juicy sweet apples, bought her ticket for the Maine-Nova Scotia ferry (super important-- otherwise she might have ended up stranded in Maine until next Thursday). Plus, noticing that her clothes from yesterday's laundry were still a little damp (ahem, sopping), she rigged up a fully sustainable drying system we like to call "tie your clothes to your bike and pedal like a mad woman." Which you can see in the other picture...

She arrived in Portland Maine in the afternoon and eventually found a nice oceanside park in which to camp. Officially camping is frowned on in that park, maybe even glared at, but she spoke with a local girl who assured her that it was doable and she was unlikely to incur too many dirty looks now that summer is over. So she pitched her sleeping bag in some bushes where she's hidden from the path and the ocean, found a nearby water fountain to fill her water bottle and a nearby bathroom to brush her teeth, and spread her clothes (now only slightly damp) on the bushes and trees to finish drying. When I spoke with her last she was retrieving the clothes (to avoid getting them all dewy) and preparing for bed under the stars and the lovely full moon.

P.S. Does anyone know how to very simply move multiple pictures to where you want them instead of jammed all together? I'm not having much luck with that.

Guts, not signs

Today Priscilla got a late start-- stayed up late last night at the home of the lovely Voss family in Manchester-by-the-Sea (yeah, I got their last name wrong yesterday-- sorry!), and slept in a little. But she didn't have too far to go today, just a mere, piddly 54 miles. The bike version of a Sunday stroll by the sea, really. Plus, some of it was even by the sea! The real, live, salty wet sea!

For four delightful hours Priscilla biked along through lovely, interesting New England. Forests on the left, ocean on the right, hills, charming towns, various other New Englandy things! Such a change from Illinois ("Look, a cornfield! Oh hey, look how flat that land is! And it's flat over there, too! And wait... can it be? Flatness ahead as far as the eye can see!"). As if that weren't fabulous enough, the various helpful people who gave her directions gave said directions using hilarious New England accents! It was all Priscilla could do to keep a straight face, but she made a valiant effort so as not hurt the direction givers' feelings, as they really were very very helpful and kind. Well, very kind but occaisonally only sort of helpful, with accurate but not terribly thorough directions. Priscilla tried following the street signs and such, but found following her gut instinct (adventurous explorer types like her have these amazing gut instincts-- like a small squishy GPS tucked in beside their pancreas) worked a sight better.

And then in the middle of the afternoon she arrived at her destination for the day: the home of a Warm Shower host named Paul. He wasn't home, so she set up camp, took a shower, did some laundry, and climbed into the tent to "test" the mat and sleeping bag but accidentally took a nap instead. After a little exploring of his unconventionally decorated yard, she walked to the ocean and found a rocky beach and called her friends who were sitting in smelly CTA trains and were maybe just the merest smidge jealous (but also happy to vicariously experience the east coast beachiness by telephone, and relieved to hear that Priscilla is doing so well).

Slow train going...

Twenty-four hours on a train is a rather long time, don't you think? Especially compared to a squishy bed all night and then a large, stationary bathroom all to oneself, and then the whole wide world to walk around in. But grand adventures require putting up with inconveniences, and some might consider an entire night and day trainbound (but also Boston-bound) to be one of them. Priscilla, however, seems undaunted. I think she's been rather enjoying it, really.

This morning she had breakfast with a girl she met onboard and they discussed traveling in France and other parts of Europe. She also found time to use up the remainder of the index cards she'd taken along... unfortunately, a bright big stack of the index cards she meant to also take remains sitting on the dining room table-- I see it right now (yep, I can type without looking, and I kinda like to brag about it sometimes... here I go again, now typing with my eyes closed!). But really, who takes trips without forgetting at least one thing? And if you're going to forget something, why not something that can be found for about a dollar in all the gazillions of Walgreens this country is covered in? Go Priscilla! Way to have your forgotten thing be something as ubiquitous as index cards!

And guess what? The train, going on tracks across the country, probably has a view that includes a lot more interesting things than Walgreens, and Priscilla filled her eyes with lots of them today. Why don't we all pause to imagine some of the sights she saw slipping by (because she didn't mention what they were... because my phone's battery died and our conversation got cut short).

Go ahead, keep imagining if you want to.

Okay, I think that's about enough. You can stop imagining now and just read the rest of this.

Guess what else? On the train Priscilla also met some guy who has biked, curiously enough, across a bit of New Brunswick, northern Maine, and down into Quebec, just as Priscilla is planning to do. He said that part of Maine is gorgeous and lovely for biking (so reassuring-- that was the part of her trip that I found most sketchy-sounding and extra wildernessy) and he also informed her that crossing one of the bridges is a little tricky (I forget which one, but it's some significant crossing... shoot, I really can't remember), but that if you fill out a form you can get a police escort across. Priscilla didn't seem to think she truly needed a police escort, but I say need, schmeed. If you can have a police escort all to yourself, seriously, take advantage of it! Right?!?

Well, the train did arrive in Boston, and Priscilla was reunited with her bike and the gear she'd checked with the Union Station basement gnomes (the gear was a little grimier than it had been on Monday night, but everything intact). She crossed Boston safely from south to north and hopped on a commuter train apparently manned by Charlie Brown's teacher. "Waug waug waug waug waug," she announces unhelpfully, "waug waug waug waug waug waug." Priscilla thinks she might be saying something about which station is next-- hard to tell. Her target station is Manchester-by-the-Sea, and when she arrives she has just a five minute walk or an even shorter ride to the Zosses' house where she is spending the night. And voila! One leg done already!

"Going"

At long last! Already! She's on the train headed east and "going" can finally be an accurate if superfluously punctuated title!

This morning Priscilla woke up for the first time in a week or so, maybe longer, without having the jitters or feeling worried or scared-- just ready to take off. Thanks to the providential fiasco last night, she was already packed, yet also had the time to do those inevitable last minute things that usually don't get done.

Here are some of those things that she thus had the time to do:

--Pick up some alcohol swabs at the Hacketts to complete her handy dandy first aid kit

--Walk in the park with Art, Rachel, and Molly

--Buy ibuprofen and I think something else to render her first aid kit that much handier and dandier

--Close an old cobwebby bank account she hadn't touched in years and thus fill her pockets with some cold cobwebby cash (which could also come in handy at some dandy store on the trip)

--Re-enlist the help of helpful sidekick Sarah in writing out & laminating more of Ephesians, Phil, and Colossians

--Call the Zosses, who will be her hosts in Boston

--Make a delicious pizza with zucchini, chicken, tomatoes, basil, onions, and more, and then share it with her helpful sidekick Sarah, good buddy James, and trusty assistant (this was particularly handy for her trusty assistant, who will be having leftover pizza for lunch for the rest of the week)

Soon eight o'clock rolled around yet again, and Rachel arrived. The girls ran downstairs, Priscilla ran back upstairs and then ran back down again, this time with her passport, jumped into the car, and zipped back to Union Station, which looked strangely familiar. Rachel stayed with the car (because she's great like that) and the h.s. and the t.a. accompanied Priscilla inside. Sarah the sidekick was shown the awful ticket lady from a safe distance, and then they scooted through the doors to the gate. There they sat amid the requisite local color of all Amtrak trains (an Amish family, hippie kids with waist-length dreadlocks, noisy Australian boys, cutters-in-line, glarers-at-cutters-in-line, etc.) and talked and Sarah took a few pictures (like the one above) and eventually all three were inadvertantly absorbed into a line.

And then it was time for boarding, with hugs and goodbyes and the helpful sidekick & trusty assistant off to slink across the empty ticketed-passengers-only lounge, now obvious in their rule-breaking, and Priscilla off to a twenty-four-hour train ride and the beginning of her fabulous new adventure.

Like Poo in the Bowels of Union Station

So. Today's title was going to be "Going" but, as you can very well see, I changed my mind.

Well, I believe we left off with Priscilla and the rack of her bike on her back and not on her bike (the rack, I mean). And when today dawned, said rack was still off of said bike, but happily no longer on Priscilla's back. No, on Priscilla's back were Priscilla's pajamas. And soon those were replaced by some clothes or something, and then that rack again, and off she went to Kozy's. The Kozy people stood in their cozy store and looked at the bike, at the rack, at each other, and then at Priscilla. "Go to Home Depot, little lady," they said, "Home Depot has what you need."
Hmph. Priscilla is not a fan of Home Depot, so she headed to Irv's Bike Shop for still more bikey goods, and then to Alvarez' Hardware Store. Mr. Alvarez didn't have the thing she needed for the rack, but do you think that stopped him? Duh! Of course not! Mr. Alvarez is our hardware hero! He up and made the necessary bike rack bracket extensions. He was also quite excited about the trip, and impressed with the teensy rear-view mirror on her sunglasses.

Then Priscilla met up with her helpful sidekick, Sarah. They chatted, tried to set up the new bike computer (that's what she got at Irv's... right) but the battery was dead, so they worked on a fun handlebar-mounted flipcard system for memorizing Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossions (hey, she's got 40 days alone ahead), and chatted some more.

They planned to meet their good buddy James at Damen and Ogden, but they were a little late-- in the immortal words of Jafar's pet parrot Iago, "I'm gonna have a heart attack and die of not surprised." Priscilla said goodbye to Sarah, and pedaled off with James to Sports Authority. This time, with no trusty assistant in attendance, Priscilla did all the dancing herself... dance dance yeah!

And then they picked up a bike computer battery at CVS and came back home where Priscilla's trusty assistant was most patiently waiting. Priscilla frenetically packed, James programmed the computer (it works! it has cadence! hooray!), and ol' trusty watched the clock and them. At eight o'clock on the dot, Amy arrived with the Pilsen Family Van. In went the bags! In went the bike! In went Priscilla and t.a.! Blam went the doors! Vroom went the van! Honk went... never mind. Amy is a polite and responsible driver and she did not honk! Instead she drove swiftly to Union Station while Priscilla unwrapped the absolute coolest t-shirt ever (courtesy of the Pilsen Family) and they all talked about stuff.

Upon arrival at Union Station, Cilla and trusty assistant went in to pick up her ticket, check her bike, and send Priscilla off when.... Kablooie went the plans! "Oh no, you can't put that bike on the train to Boston," ranted the ticket lady, "no, it's totally impossible, you're ridiculously late, blah blah blah, and so on!" Which isn't true, they weren't that late, and it totally would have worked... grrr..... But what could they do? The ticket lady is sort of the boss at the train station, right? So trusty assistant used her most charming voice and impressed the ticket lady with tales of Priscilla's plans. Naturally the ticket lady changed her tune and became all nice and whatever, but by then it really was too late.

Seeing there was no other way, Priscilla changed her ticket to a Tuesday night departure, and the ticket lady took them down to the basement. "Here, little ladies," she said, "this way!" And she led them into a broken elevator. Really. Like that was so helpful. They stood in the elevator, they pushed the buttons, they waited. They got out, got back in, got out, got into another elevator and FINALLY descended into the spooky depths of Union Station, where the bike boxes lurk! Priscilla bought a lurky bike box, and some gritty underground working man helped her pack up her bike and label it. And at least three of his gritty underground working pals came by and asked if the bike was to go on the Monday night train to Boston. See! They had so not been ridiculously late! Stinky ticket lady.

And so it was that Amy (who had been waiting all that time!) got quite a surprise when into the van hopped not only the trusty assistant, but Priscilla herself as well. And so it is that Priscilla will, Lord willing, be setting out again tomorrow night, but this time actually getting on the train and going. She'd had an inkling early this afternoon that "this is not that day" (in the immortal words as Viggo M. as Aragorn in The Return of the King, but I think he was talking about something else), and it turns out, despite her efforts to set off anyway, she was right.

We'll try for "Going" tomorrow.

Getting Set

...and so the preparations continue. This morning before church Priscilla whipped out the ol' ironing board and plugged in the iron. Why? What did she so urgently need to press?

A. Her Sunday best
B. Her sleek new bike shorts
C. An iron on transfer that reads "Cars are for nerds!"
D. An old wrinkly towel

Any guesses? C'mon...

What? E. None of the above? Why, yes! You are correct! She was actually ironing teensy plastic baggies, the better to repackage the bike computer that turned out to be the wrong one and needs to be exchanged tomorrow. Apparently it's very helpful to have a stopwatch-size bike computer to tell you not only how fast you're going, but also your cadence. Sort of like the bike version of rpms or something, so you don't wear out your knees (which are sort of like the bike version of a transmission... ).

And then off she went to the (ahem) Sunday service, home for lunch, and then hopped on her bike for more bikish errands, trailed by her trusty assistant (who fulfilled a lifelong dream en route and rode no-handed for well over 20 feet-- go trusty assistant!). First out west to Working Bikes for shoes (but it was closed, dagnabbit). Then back home for her phone (which she leaves in the most interesting yet unlikely places, like, say, the fridge), and then off downtown to renew her library card (yes, even fabulous biker-types must submit to the Laws of the Library). Next they headed a few blocks over to Union Station to check up on the details of checking bikes and fares to Boston, plus the option of a slide down the very long & prettily polished but uber-slow-sliding banisters (Priscilla declined) and then a bit of sitting in the waiting hall sipping Jamba Juice (after a successful finding of the food court, which is no small feat). Annnnnd eventually back home.

But only for a while: before long she threw a rack in her bag, snapped on her helmet, flicked on enough flashing lights to pass for a small UFO, and rode off into the night to borrow a computer that doesn't crash every five minutes in order to print out some route info. Probably to hook up the rack to carry her gear as well (it's tricky, the screws and the holes for the screws don't match, or something like that). What other important things might she do before the night is over? Tune in tomorrow, and if I remember to ask her about that, you just might find out!