Finished

I made it. I really completed that thing. 26.2 miles, 4 hours and 33 minutes. And while my thighs are feeling as sore as never before, I'm not especially tired or exhausted and I don't feel particular pain besides the soreness.

My friend Tracey and I drove down to San Luis Obispo on Saturday morning. My other friend flaked last minute which was a disappointment but as I've flaked on her plenty of times I couldn't be too angry with her. At least she wasn't the one with the car. Although I knew I was going to miss her "Motivational Dance" 

Lonnie, a huge and incredibly fluffy dog that Tracey rescued a few weeks earlier came with us and made himself comfortable on the backseat. We decided that he was going to be the mascot instead. And he did a pretty good job, although he passed on the dance but after all this excitement and the long trip he's ended up to be even more exhausted than I am now.

After we got my race package which took us quite long as everyone had to admire Lonnie and pet his fluffy fur what he acknowledged with a happy wagging of his fluffy tail and a smile, we got food and drove over to the hotel in Pismo Beach.

As if this beautiful view and the lovely weather combined with great food and company had not been enough, we spotted two whales who made their way along the coast. Such beautiful and majestic creatures and such a good omen for the next day. 

While I had felt very excited and a little nervous the night before, I suddenly got very calm. We had dinner with Tracey's friends and I went to bed shortly after. And I even managed to sleep deeply for four hours and one hour more until I got up at 3.30am, well rested and ready to run! Unfortunately, I couldn't find most of my team until right before the race started, I met a handful of them at the starting line to receive and distribute good luck hugs.

And off I went. And my good luck continued. My running app didn't work first and then it went just crazy and told me I was running 20km an hour! Well, I didn't really care. My playlist was spot on, the weather was perfect, and lots of people had gotten up so early to support the runners and I ran.  

At the first hill I noticed my training. I just kept running. Didn't slow down much. Just made it up that hill. The sun was already coming up behind the mountain to the left but it took a couple more miles until we actually saw here. Throwing her warm light all over the green hills all around us. The nature was beautiful. The air fresh but the wind had slowed down compared to the day before, to just a refreshing breeze that only seemed to get a little stronger when I ran downhill. Following our coach's instructions I kept drinking and eating the disgustingly sweet energy gels and blocks. I had my camel bak refilled a few times and learned that I'm not the only person who struggles with opening the lid :-). 

Those stops caused me to loose the 4.30 pacers and after my second porta potty break I was sure that the 4.45 had passed me, too. Nevertheless, I always had 4 hours 35 minutes finish time in my head. Even though my stupid pebble watch had given up by now and my GPS hadn't even bothered to work correctly at all and was way off. 

So I stopped bothering about the time and just enjoyed everything around me. The green, the young bulls on the hills, flowers everywhere, wine fields, and lots of runners. Everyone with a different strategy. A lot of them very fast. Some of the faster ones I should pass later. And mile after mile went by. And I ran and ran and ran. Like a Volkswagen. And somehow, every time I felt like I really should be somewhere else, my playlist came up with exactly the right song. Or my coach showed up to distract me by repeating that he had utter confidence in me and wasn't worried at all. And left. Not before he told me, that I had left all significant hills behind me. And I kept running. And again, every other time I thought I couldn't do this anymore, another song came up that was perfect for this right moment (like the Run, Run, Run song at a hill at mile 22, contributed by my ex-colleague Josh :-)).

At the point I took this picture I was so sick of the energy gels they handed out at the aid stations. I knew I had to keep eating but I was sure that I would puke if I had one more mouthful of that disgustingly sweet raspberry gel. And, while I was running up that hill, another coach joined me and gave me a motivational talk to get up that hill. "See that telegraph mast up there. Focus on it and just keep running. You almost made it, you're doing great!" I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to himself... And before he left, he said: "That was the last significant hill..." I didn't mind as I was already dancing up that hill with somebody to Whitney Houston (that one added to my playlist by my cousin Felipe).

And then I did make it to mile 25 where Tracey waited with hugs and a sip of mimosa. And, after all that sweet and sticky stuff, salty peanuts! Yum. And off on the last 1.2 miles. Not without sharing the peanuts with another, thankful runner. And then, on the last half mile, my legs started cramping (!). I gave them a quick stretch and chose to ignore the nasty pain in my thighs and feet and ran a little faster. Up another hill. At mile 26. This time, four coaches where lined up the road and all of them cheered. And the last 0.2 miles where downhill and I even managed to sprint to the finish line. 

When I saw the time I couldn't believe it: 4 hours and 33 minutes! I had made it. Forget pebble, running apps, and GPS. Just follow your heart, enjoy your run, and you'll get to wherever you want at the exact time you want to be there.

Everything is going to be alright

I can't wait for this run to be over. I'm becoming more and more paranoid. First the foot which still hurts a little and I'm not sure if it'll last the whole distance. Then the weather. Rain on the only day I could have driven to San Luis Obispo, every day another part of my body seems to start hurting and then, yesterday, I felt like I was getting a cold. At work, the lymph nodes behind my ears bugged me, I  kept feeling my forehead because I was sure it was getting hotter by the minute. I swallowed twice as many times as normal to make sure that my throat really wasn't sore and I drank enough hot water to fill a bathtub.

I'm still not certain that I won't get sick. Although I am sure I can never really relate to a condition like that but I feel like I'm having glass bones. With every step I take, everything I do, everything I eat, don't eat, everything I touch, every missing layer of clothing I could cause an injury or condition that could keep me from running. I'm obsessed! And I don't like it. I want to have my life back. I want to go outside, eat, drink run, do whatever I want without being concerned about my physical condition. I mean, of course I don't want to get injured or sick. But usually, a cold is not a big thing. But this time, getting sick or injured would mean that months and months of training and getting up early would have been in vain. 

On the plus side, I really can't wait to run. I'm so full of energy, I fell like a racehorse right before the start. Every single muscle in my body is so ready. My head is already out there, running mile after mile, taking it all in. My bag is packed, I've put the perfect playlist together, my fingernails a bright "Team in Training" purple (with a white "Go Team" painted on it). I'm waiting for my friend to pick me up to drive down to San Luis Obispo. In 24 hours I'll already be running. Hopefully, still. And a few hours later it will be over. One way or another. And I will have my life back. Or I will start training for the next one...

One more week

A week from now I will be on my way to San Luis Obispo to run the first marathon of my life. I'm not particularly excited, I don't feel very different than I did before I started my training, I'm not concerned, anxious or scared, either. Not sure if that is just due to my general relaxed attitude before significant events or thanks to the perfect training plan and coaching of the Team in Training coaches. Either way, next Sunday, April 27, at 6am you can find me at the start of the San Luis Obispo Marathon. When I get up at 2.30am my friends who want to come watch will probably come back from their night out and wish me a tipsy "good luck" before they pass out for the next several hours. While I'll be running for the next several hours.

I really don't feel very fit. In fact, when I run with my roommate, he's always a few steps ahead of me and I'm having trouble keeping the pace. However, the longer we run, the better it gets. He gets tired when I am all warmed up and ready to run more. I truly am a long distance runner. I was never particularly fast and never really liked sprints (unless in a car or on a motorcycle). But long distance works. I don't have to torture myself to keep running. I just keep running. Admittedly, the last run was really hard, 19.5 miles. I was not able to complete the 20 miles. I called my father who was waiting for me half a mile away and asked him to pick me up. There was no way that I could run the additional 0.5 miles. Unthinkable to run additional 6.5 miles!

But, someone told me that you run the last 6 miles with your heart. Well, that sounds nice. My head is usually stronger than my heart  (unfortunately not often enough) but when I think of how utterly confused and useless I was after those last long runs, due to exhaustion, I don't think that my head will be in a position to make any decision or get my body to do anything once the 20 mile line is crossed. It will shut down the more complex areas and focus on the more essential task: "Don't die!" Furthermore, I keep telling myself that the main reason for me being that exhausted was an unfortunate combination of jet lag, lack of sleep, exhaustion from work travel, and the fact that there was almost no wind, it was relatively sticky, and I drank water mixed with energy gel which eventually made my mouth very sticky. But the latter wasn't bad enough for me to actually stop and get some fresh water. All in all, enough to hope that the elimination of these factors and the added race atmosphere will be enough to get me through the last 6 miles of the race. And, of course, the reason for the run. Go Team.

13 kilometers to the finish line

I am not exactly there yet. I have to complete a few more runs before the actual race and, of course, the race itself. But last Saturday's 18 mile run got me even closer to the marathon distance. I felt a little beaten up, the balls of my feet hurt and I was very tired for the rest of the day. But otherwise I'm fine. No knee or ankle pain. Lower back is silent. And I haven't heard from Achilles in a while. But I still don't like getting up at 5am on a Saturday. Although, this time I didn't really sleep that well so I had been awake for an hour before I had to get up. The upside of that was, once more, that I got to see the city like I don't see her very often. Thanks to daylight saving time, it was still dark, almost an hour before the sun was supposed to rise. As I was a little early, I stopped to take some pictures.

It took us some time until we got started. By that time my fingers and toes felt like icicles. But I have enough winter running experience to know that this won't last long once you got going. And so it was. Mile 2 to 4 ensured that we got warm quickly. Uphill on Tennessee Valley Road. And, if we needed a proof for how early it was, we met a Turkey in the middle of that road. He wasn't really sure what to do and kept running from one side of the road to the other. Which, in turn, made us run from one side of the road to the other as he seemed upset, spreading his feathers out and cocking his head back and forth. But, he was as silent as a you would expect a Turkey bird to be... Eventually, we managed to pass him and he calmed down and vanished into the bushes. Poor thing.


Further we went. Downhill towards Tennessee Beach. It was such a lovely morning. The sun already reached through the gaps in the hills, the grass and leaves were covered by a light mist and the downhill trail to the beach helped to recover from the previous hill. However, once we reached the beach we had to turn around and it was all uphill again.

The beach trail was the nicest part of the run. Once we got back to Sausalito, we ran back and forth on the flat sidewalk and bike/pedestrian path that runs from Sausalito to Tiburon and is frequented by cyclists, runners, and tourists. Fortunately, at this time of day, not that many tourists. Only athlete cyclists, not the "Bike the Bridge" dudes, who have never ridden a bicycle in their whole life but think that it's a good idea to start doing it in San Francisco. Only to post pictures of them crossing the Golden Gate bridge on a rented bicycle. I hope that the sum of their pleasure offsets the sum of annoyance they cause for all runners, bikers, car and motorcycle drivers as well as pedestrians.

Anyway, back to the run. From mile 9 it was mostly flat and hardly any shade. Hence, every water stop was more than welcome and I was, once again, happy to have my racerback shirt. Even though my roommate makes fun of me when I leave the house with it. "It's astonishing, what you are able to accomplish, considering your condition." is what he said when he saw me with the "hunchback" caused by the two liters of water on my back. I don't care. Being able to drink anytime I want to makes it worth it.

At mile 12 I spotted two of my friends on their bicycles. I knew that they wanted to go on a ride so I had been screening the passing cyclists. But with their jerseys, helmets, and sunglasses, they all look the same. So when I did recognize them and they managed to stop to give me a sweaty hug it gave me the boost that I needed at that rather boring but nevertheless exhausting part of the run. I'm really looking forward to the actual run. Having all those Team in Training members and maybe some friends, and Tracey who will be coaching runners on the course, should hopefully give me the energy I need to run the last painful miles.

Back at our starting point at mile 13, I got rid of superfluous clothing and fluids, had half a banana, and started the last 5 miles of my run. Initially, I thought I could just pretend that this was a short 5 mile run like I hadn't done the 13 miles before. This worked out pretty well. Until the first incline. Your body knows bloody well that you did not just start running but rather two hours ago and he does make sure that you do, too. (At this point I need to explain why I refer to my body as "him". Body in German is masculine. And, while this is certainly not true for mine, that's what I'm used to. And, honestly, he's a strong dude who can deal with some serious stuff :-)). Faced with that kind of resistance, I referred to one of my "How to get up that hill when your legs hurt like hell and the only thing you want to do is stop running, go home and sleep?" strategies. I turned up my music and started singing. What do I sing? Well, this strategy works with a wide range of music from The Carpenters to Foo Fighters. Singing while running not only distracts you from the effort but, more importantly, it helps you get all the oxygen you need. You focus on the lyrics and breathing becomes automatic. And, before you know it, you're on top of the hill (or "the Top of the World looking, down at creation...").

This time I had the opposite experience than during the last miles of my previous long run. My body was fine, nothing hurt really bad but I just could not get myself to run faster in order to increase my average speed. I also noticed, that I had relied on my own water supply too much and drank too much, too early. And, to make matters worse, I had to skip the second last water stop because it got pulled over by the police for not letting pedestrians crossing the street on a cross walk. Ha, those pedestrians were fine and far from being in any danger whatsoever. But this poor thirsty runner had to run another 1.5 miles before she was able to replenish with half a liter from very tiny cups... But that's very good to know for the race day, the real marathon.

And, finally, I made it. And thanks to a sprint on the last 200 meters, even managed to cut off a couple of seconds off my average speed but not enough to break the speed record in my running app. Broke all other possible records with that run, though :-).

26.2...kilometers

Last Saturday I got two miles closer to marathon distance! And closer to the marathon. 49 days is what the newly activated countdown in my running app tells me. It's a little disconcerting, seeing the seconds, minutes, hours, and days counting down. It's really coming up!

And again, when my alarm clock rang at 5am I did not feel like getting up and running for a couple of hours. I'd rather turned to the other side and slept for at least 5 more hours. But, but because it "hilft ja nix", is what we say in German, I got up and made myself a bowl of oatmeal. It was a particularly sad day which did not make getting up early any easier. My roommate had decided to euthanize his cat, Boris, who had been sick for a while and got recently diagnosed with cancer. I thought I had seen him for the last time the night before, because he tends to sleep in my roommate's room and his door was closed (because, as any reasonable person at that time on a Saturday he was still asleep). But when I looked up I saw Boris come into the kitchen and looking at me. So I gave him his last meal and said good bye forever. Which is such a hard thing to do. But that's another story.

And off I went to the meeting point, looking forward to running two and a half hours along San Francisco's waterfront. At first, though, I ran half a mile in the wrong direction. I'm really not good at following a marked trail. But then, we were supposed to add a one mile loop at the end of the run in order to get to 16 miles. Why not do it at the beginning. I noticed that I had not set my running app back to "miles" before I took off and now it was counting in kilometers. Which is so much more satisfying! By the time I got back to the start for the first water stop I was at 3.5km already. And when I started the ascend into Presidio Park, I had run 5km which used to be when I was done running. But now I was barely warmed up. The first hill is usually when I think that it was not a good idea to do this marathon thing. Your breath becomes faster, your legs remember their last workout and make sure you do, too, and you start repeating your mantra "I can do it, I can do it, I can do it" and keep running. But don't forget to look up and around you. Presidio Park received the first warmth of the recently risen sun. The sun beams were crawling through the branches and stems of the big Reds, keen on drying the morning mist and removing the pre sun rise cold to make room for a very lovely early spring day. The trees seem to look at you with a slightly amused raised eyebrow, not fully understanding why anyone would do this to themselves instead of just remain in the same place for all their lives, only moving vertically, never horizontally.

On the other side of the hill, the ocean appeared. Similar to last time, the pink-blue surface got more foggy towards the horizon but you could tell that it was just a matter of time until the sun would chase away the mist and clear up the sky to a perfect blue. Thinking these thoughts, and taking in those views, I didn't even realize that I had reached the peak and highest elevation of today's run and I happily descended back down, resting a little bit before the long flat part along the waterfront.

Back at the water stop I had reached the 10km mark. And it still felt great. It's amazing what happens to your body with the right amount of training. A previously daunting run like 10km feels like warm up, nothing hurts (yet) and your body wants more. And it got more. 16.2 kilometers more. Although, when I reached the Aquatic Park, I was tempted to ask one of the swimmers if they wanted to run my remaining miles while I'd swim for them. I did not feel like doing this when I returned the same way.

Further I ran along Fisherman's Wharf. I usually avoid that area but at that time of day, there were only a few tourists and Alcatraz visitors so it was less of an obstacle course than usual. The turning point was right under the Bay Bridge. You can see the bridge relatively early when you run along the Embarcardero. The fact that it is so huge makes it seem very close. But it's not. It was quite a lot of running until I spotted the arrow that told me to turn around. At that point, 18km, my legs, hips, and my lower back were hurting a little bit. My toes and feet, too. Breathing was fine and I felt like running for many more hours. But at this point, you notice how strong you really are. How strong the muscles are that lift your legs and support the areas of your body that feel most of the impact.

And, on top of everything, you notice how much your mind is able to convince your body that running such long distance is a good idea. You can practically hear them arguing...

Body: "Dude, can you explain to me again why I'm not in bed right now, sleeping in, relaxing from last night's party that I should have gone to?"
Mind: "We're here for a good cause. And look at this amazing view across the Bay and the Ocean. It's so much more beautiful at this time of day."
Body: "Nah, I can't see it. Feet, Hips, Lower Back, and Thighs would like to stop this nonsense right now and go for a beer and breakfast at that diner over there."
Mind: "Bud, it's only 8 more kilometers and it's for a good cause. And you will feel amazing once you're done. Think of everything you've accomplished so far! And remember how good you look in the mirror!"
Body: "True that, but right now I really don't want to do this anymore. Who cares if there are love handles and the pants are too tight. I can live with that. Can we stop running now and do what normal people do on Saturday mornings?"
Mind: "Shut up and keep running or I make you do Bar Method 7 times a week."
Body: "Okay, okay. No need for violence. Just 8 kilometers, I can do that. I can do that faster!"

And it does. It keeps running. Despite the pain. Somehow it finds some more resources, taps into them and actually begins to run faster. Until the next hill. Hills should be banned from the last 5 miles before the finish line. Or let's say 10. At last year's half marathon, there even was an overpass, read: STAIRS! on the last mile of the race. That's when Body says: "I don't care how many miles we've run so far. I'm done. Finish. Over and out. Mind, why don't you do the last mile?"

But this time, it was just 26.2 kilometers (16.3 miles), not miles. So Mind didn't have to do too much convicing work to get body to run the last few. I actually managed to run a little faster and decrease my minutes/mile ratio. And, finally, I was done! 9.34am on a Saturday and done with working out until Monday evening! Time to start crying about Boris, who had passed a way 4 minutes earlier.

14 miles ain't 14 kilometres

I just got back from the farthest run I've completed in my life so far. 14 miles. When I woke up at 5.15am this morning I did not feel like running at all. In fact, I've been fighting of a cold for almost two weeks. This little itch in your throat that comes and goes, heavier sweating than usual when you're exercising and sometimes at night. So far, I managed to hold it at bay but I was a little concerned that the long run might allow it to finally succeed. Nevertheless, I got up, had breakfast, got on my motorcycle, and drove to the meeting point of my training group at Ocean Beach. I love the time right before the sunrise. Even though it's the coldest time of the night. The whole city seems to hold its breath, waiting for the bright, warm, orange ball to finally show up so it can exhale and breathe again. And start the new day.

Ten minutes later, I was on the trail. Running up along the waterfront, uphill to the Cliff House and farther up on the Lands End Trail. It was beautiful. Right before sunrise, the water a velvety blue, slight fog above the surface along the hills on the other side of the bay. Morning mist along the trail. And no one to be seen. Well, until I almost ran into a coyote who disappeared into the bushes just a few meters in front of me. And then, behind the next turn, the priceless view: the bridge. Sleepy, still. Starting to stretch out and reach her cold bones towards the sunlight that had crawled over the hills. Its beams breaking through the branches of the trees in front and next to me. It was 7am, I had 12 more miles ahead of me, stairs and hills, but I felt so happy and energized. This gorgeous ocean to my left, the sleepy bridge ahead and soft ground beneath my feet.

At the first water stop I got sent on the wrong track but as the next stop was at the starting point, I just ran back on the streets and enjoyed a beautiful view over Sunset all the way to Pacifica. While running up another hill. Then back down past the Cliff House overlooking Ocean Beach, some dog walkers and the first surfers. I prefer this beach to any other beach in the world. It reminds me of home, of the west coast of northern Germany. Well, it's more like the adult version of that coast. It's wild, not made to sunbathe ot to go for a nice swim. Sometimes it's calm. Sometimes huge waves keep crashing on the sand. It's different, every time I make it out here. I wish I would come more often.

When I reached the next water stop I was told that I was one mile ahead due to my detour. So I decided that I could just run 14 instead of the planned 13 miles. And I kept running. A small loop along the water down Great Highway and back to the same water stop and then into Golden Gate Park. 3 miles in and 3 miles out. The first 3, miles 9-11, uphill. Well, one of these slowly ascending hills, that never seem to end. But, 3 miles uphill meant 3 miles downhill after that. So I went and noticed that, even though my feet hurt and my butt still felt sore after Thursday's work out, I still felt good and so full of engergy and motivated. Not tired at all. Thank you, runner's high :-).

Finally, I passed the De Young Museum and reached the turning point. At that time, the park was already full with runners. But it was still beautiful in its morning glow. Barely awake, still sand in its eyes. At that time I had gotten two calls from my mentor and coach already, as I couldn't seem to stay on the marked track and they wanted to make sure I was alright. Which I was. I became a little faster, determined to reach the below 9.55 minutes/mile mark before I got to the finish line. And I made it! Two more months to go until the marathon and it feels great. Just 12 more miles. Might feet might not like that but I'm ready to go :-). And here is why I'm doing this: http://pages.teamintraining.org/gba/sanloobi14/evachief

        

Grief

When you bruise your knee, strain an ankle, break a leg, or are suffering from a serious disease, in most of the cases the pain will stop eventually. So, while you're suffering from sometimes almost unbearable pain, you can find some consolation in the fact that time will make it better. Everyone who's suffering from a mean toothache or a migraine right now might think otherwise. But it really does.

The same is true for break ups. The first few days, you just want to die right there. You don't want to get up, not even wake up for that matter. Because every night you dream about being together again and then you wake up and when you realize that it's over, you're going through the same pain again. And again. Every morning. It really doesn't feel like it will ever get any better. Or stop altogether. But everyone who's gone through a few breakups knows, that it does get better. There comes the day when you wake up and you realize:"I'm not in love with that person anymore." It does not hurt to think about him anymore. It does not hurt to meet him. Or even to see him with his new partner. Thanks to time, good friends, and, also helpful, a not insignificant amount of alcoholic beverages. And, the best way to get over him: the new guy you fell in love with who is even more awesome that the old one.

But death of a beloved person is a whole different story. There are some things in life that cannot be replaced. Ever. We only have one father, one mother, two grannies, and two grandpas. One spouse that we want to spend the rest of our lives with (debatable, I know), a limited number of siblings and best friends. Pets, favorite movie stars, teachers, and other people who are an important part of our lives. At least for a certain amount of time. And when they die, it's final. You can't replace your father with a new father. Your first dog with your second. You can't replace your first love who you knew since first grade, married after high school, raised your children with, counted each penny to be able to buy food and then, a house with. You can't replace someone with whom you shared that many memories. That special person who made you feel like no one else did. Who knew you like no one else. It's like trying to substitute a 3,000 year old redwood tree with a seedling. Tearing down St. Peter and put Grace Cathedral in its place. It's just not the same.

And then you're stuck in this dilemma that is slowly tearing your heart out. You don't want to forget this person. You want to keep the memory alive. But that prevents time from doing what it does best: making it better. Letting you heal. By constantly refreshing your memories of the person, you reopen the new tissue that had just started to grow over your wound. Grief sucks. Big time.

A car is not a toy

Have you ever wondered why there are relatively few car accidents considering the lack of skills, attention, consideration, focus on driving, or just plain common sense of so many car drivers? Having walked, driven a car, a motorcycle, and a bicycle in a few countries, in German cities, country roads, the Autobahn, and a lot of roads, high and freeways in the US I'm more and more stunned by the fact that I haven't seen that many accidents yet. I know, there are plenty of them but still, based on what I've experienced and seen there should be a lot more!

People don't notice what's going on around them, use their phones and all kinds of other devices, read newspapers and maps, take a nap, eat, drink hot beverages, smoke and light cigarettes, or try to pick them up after they dropped them, apply make up, everything's possible.

When I was 20 I lived in a city about 30 kilometers away from my home town. One day my mother and I were driving back to my home town after I had a small surgery on my foot. Somewhere on the Autobahn we were driving in the middle lane, about to pass a huge truck. Suddenly, without warning, the truck's turn signal showed up and, at the same time, the truck moved into our lane. And hit our car. We got pushed to the left lane where another car hit us at full speed. My mother managed the impossible and kept driving because, apparently, the truck driver hadn't noticed anything and kept driving. My mother honked and yelled, despite my efforts to get her to pull over and stop the car until the truck finally noticed her and pulled over to the shoulder. All this while the poor guy in the car that hat hit our rear sat in his car wreck on the left lane, watching us driving away. 

While the police changed our tire so that my mother could drive us home (she's cooler than James Bond my Mom!), I watched a number of trucks passing us and understood why this accident had happened. The drivers read newspapers, had their feet up on the dashboard, talked on the phone, seemed to watch TV, ate, or seemed to be asleep (!). A few times I saw them moving the steering wheel to the left to pass a slower truck. They move the wheel and hit the turn signal at the same time and all of this without a prior look over their shoulder or at least into the side mirror. I am not saying that all truck drivers are like this and their work conditions do suck big time. But this complete disregard combined with not owning the car and not being in any danger of physical damage by getting hit by a car, at least not by our little VW was just shocking and incredibly scary.

Riding a bicycle through Hamburg provided a lot of eye openers as well. Granted, many bicyclists are not much better than most car drivers but a lot of them try to make it easy for car drivers but do have to fear for their lives. When it comes to bad experiences with car drivers, I remember one very vividly. I was riding back home from work on the bicycle path, on the right side. When, suddenly, a taxi pulled over from the other side of the road, across a continuous middle line (as in DON'T CROSS THIS LINE EVER!) and directly onto the bicycle path, a few meters in front of me. I barely managed to stop my bike without hitting the car. And I got angry! I looked up and started yelling at the driver. No four letter words but words that seem appropriate when someone almost kills you in a place that should be considered half way safe for a bicyclist. And what did he do? He got out of his car and started yelling at me. Lots of words I'd rather not repeat here. In retrospect, I should have, at least fake hit his car. I had a witness who was almost as speechless as I faced with this guy's 

reaction to the incident. But I didn't. Because I prefer myself and others to be safe and uninjured to teaching someone a lesson. However, sometimes I just can't resist. Too many times I saw people who let their children walk on the street side of the sidewalk without paying any attention to them or, who pushed their strollers on a bicycle path while talking to a friend, in person or on the phone, or just looking into the sky. So one time I stopped my bicycle a few inches in front of a stroller, pushed on a bicycle path by a blonde posh woman who was busy exchanging the latest gossip with her friend. To her credit, she immediately began yelling at me for endangering her child (or maybe just the expensive McLaren stroller, who knows). I just looked at her and said that if I had been a car or a less attentive bicyclist her child would have been dead or severely injured now. She didn't seem to get it. And honestly, I don't know what will make her get it. Maybe a car that hits her little girl at 35 miles an hour and sends her flying through the air would do the trick...

Now that I live in California, with a daily commute on one of the busiest freeways in the state (fortunately, I don't have to drive myself), riding my motorcycle on busy and not so busy streets and roads, I have plenty of more opportunities to see the scariness of car driving in California! In order to get a drivers license you need to pass a written exam and a behind the wheel driving test. No minimum classroom and behind the wheel lessons with a certified (and more often than not seriously crazy) driving instructor. Just a few hours with mom or dad or friends with licenses who are old and bold enough to let you drive why dying a slow death in the passenger's seat. This explains a lot. There's not a lot of common sense, no skills that come with driving experience, and being taught what to do in unexpected situations by an expert. Such as how to drive backwards uphill on a steep icy street. I've seen more than enough helpless, stunned faces and behavior upon the sight or the occurrence of something unexpected. Such as a jogger on a sidewalk that someone almost ran over because the driver did not look left or right before driving on the Safeway parking lot. Yelling at them didn't help either. Well, in situations like these I usually revert back to German. Because it's just more satisfying to use four letter words in your native language. However, those two old Asian ladies couldn't have looked more terrified, being yelled at by this sweaty, tall, red faced, angry German. Though I don't think they understood why I was so angry. And, worst of all, they didn't even stop the car. They just looked at me and kept driving. It's the LEFT pedal! It's not so difficult, there are only TWO in almost all US cars!

I really try to be more Zen about this. After all, being angry and yelling at people never helps and is bad for my health and well being. But I have to say that this is the one thing that still makes me angry. People drive cars as if they're operating a toy. Not one of the toys that could actually kill you when operated negligently. A car is a damn killing machine! How can people be so afraid of becoming a victim of a terrorist attack or a plane crash and still get in their car every day and drive on a Freeway? Or, worse, walk through the city, cross streets, ride their bicycles or motorcycles? I'm grateful for every day that I do not get killed or severely injured by a vehicle whose driver just checked his texts or lighted a cigarette. Just a little more common sense, attention, and the realization that it takes practice to become a good driver. Until then, the brake pedal, rearview mirrors, frequent head turns, and undivided attention while driving are you best friends. And all other road users will be, too.

Drive safely :-)

Towing home

Last Tuesday I had my first experience with AAA. My motorcycle got towed. I still hadn't gotten around to bring my bike to the shop for a check up after the long ride. She ran just fine without any issues so I didn't feel an urgency to pay a few hundred dollars to get the confirmation that everything is just fine. Well, guess I should have.

Anyway, I decided to ride to work because I had physiotherapy in the morning and a social event at work in the afternoon, somewhere in Mountain View. Everything worked out well. I rode down 101 and thanks to my neon yellow jacket all the cars made space for me to pass and ignore the bad traffic. I know, lane splitting is incredibly dangerous and it scares the hell out of me. Just the thought that at any moment a car could just change the lane and pull out right in front of you, causing you to fly across cars and break whatever bone is available in you body. I could not commute on a motorcycle. Having to go through this stress every day would cause my hair to be grey within months. That said, while the driving skills in this country could be improved a lot of car drivers are very courteous towards motorcycle riders and let enough space for us to lane split. Also, while bad traffic in a car is annoying and tiring on a motorcycle it's extremely exhausting and, if it's hot outside, you're getting cooked in your gear.

While I was riding I noticed that my gear shift wasn't very compliant. I had trouble with it before. Often, when I was riding faster on the Freeway and had to switch into a lower gear it would go into a fake neutral and I had to kick the lever really hard to get into the desired or just any gear. That morning, however, it actually got stuck and stopped moving altogether. Not something you want to happen while riding on the left lane on 101 in heavy traffic. I managed to roll over to the shoulder without causing any delay in traffic. And again I was incredibly grateful to be wearing this lovely bright and shiny jacket!

I tried to fix it somehow and, indeed, I was able to move the lever and thought I could continue. But as soon as I turned the engine back on and tried to switch into first gear it got stuck again. So I took out my phone and called AAA. It was a little scary to find my way through their phone system and finally talk to a person about my situation, while standing only a few meters away from cars passing. And they asked for an awful lot of information. Later I learned that they often have issues locating vehicles so I guess it was a good thing to spend a few more minutes providing information. It certainly helped that I was standing right across from the SFO International Airport.

Right after I ended the call I saw a truck pulling up behind me and thought: "Wow, that was quick!". But it was a California Highway Patrol Service truck. Those guys provide free, well, tax paid, road side assistance on Californian Highways. Makes sense. Car issues are the most frequent cause for traffic jams, I suppose. He asked if I was okay and if there was anything he could do for me. Even just stay with me until the AAA car arrived. I declined but told him that this was an awesome idea and I really appreciated his offer.

I had barely sat down and sent an email to my colleagues that I would be working from home that day, if I ever got there, when the AAA truck showed up. Less than 10 minutes after the call. My bike got fastened on the truck within the next 5 minutes and Don, the driver and I were on our way to the Ducati shop. It turned out, that Don was from Malta and really happy that I had been there once. So we talked about the European Union and the quality of life in the US vs. Europe until we pulled up in front of the motorcycle shop. Those guys must think that I'm too lazy to drive to the shop as this was the second time in a row that I got towed there.

Meanwhile, the bike is fixed, I'm happy with AAA's roadside assistance and assistants. Someone else was happy, too. My roommate's and our neighbors' cats. They always enjoy having someone at home during the day who can open doors for them and refill their half full bowl to prevent them from starving.

Done!

15 days

3,510 miles (5,648.8 km)

7 states

13 destinations

12 hotels

65 gallons of gas

1,526 dead bugs

2,5kg of dust (equally distributed between my bike an my boots)

~180 hours of sleep (not nearly enough)

Countless pizzas, burgers, fries, and French toast variations

300 "fuck's" at the sight of something stunning, beautiful, awe inspiring piece of nature (not sure, when I developed that mouth)

~10,000 calories burned (yes, riding a motorcycle is kind of a sport)

Countless lovely people. From scary looking gentleman bikers to family like innkeepers, and interested to concerned fellow travelers.

Two matchmaking attempts

One bachelorette party

One Aleeve and various ice packs a day

An average of 50 blog views a day (half of them might have been me, spell-checking)

Day 11 - Almost done and short break

South Lake Tahoe is my last official stop before I'm heading home. Tomorrow and Saturday I will be wake boarding and, the best part of wake boarding: No cell phone coverage and no wifi!

So, this is the end of the road trip coverage. It's been fun. Amazing. Wonderful. I feel blessed to be able to live in a country with such an abundance of beautiful nature. I don't think I'll ever have to leave the country again because there's enough to see for multiple lifetimes. The Tetons. Majestic, power and peaceful at the same time. Calling them "Big Tits" just doesn't seem to be right. The Rocky Mountains, the desert, beautiful lakes, rivers, forests, blue skies, starry skies, redwoods, the Pacific Ocean, nature that makes St. Peter and the Colosseum look like recently built. I'll never say that the US doesn't have much history, anymore. It's just not written down in words that men can read. But it's all there. For everyone to see and understand. 

And people. I've met the sweetest people during my trip. They made me feel as if was a friend, not a guest. The most fiercely looking bikers turned out to be the nicest and caring gentlemen, colleagues who turned out to be the awesome private person I always expected them to be. Parents of friends who made me feel loved and part of a family even though my family is thousands of miles away (and I do love and miss them more than anything!), strangers who made me feel like a friend for a short time. I must say that, as a German, I've never felt as welcomed and appreciated, loved and unconditionally accepted in any other foreign country. It might be different for other nationalities but, the people I've met wouldn't have cared. They were just perfectly sweet and welcoming. 

And, speaking of perfectly sweet. My bike has been one of the most awesome travel companions I've ever had! No trouble, just fun, patience, and unlimited awesomeness! I can't wait to take her on the next trip!

Thank you all for making this trip such a treasured and sweet memory! 

And thanks to everyone who followed me. I hope it wasn't too boring. No drama, sex, action, sports. Just a few days of seeing the world through my eyes. I promise, there will be more trips. I haven't seen enough of this country yet! And neither has "Fury".

Eva and "Fury", the most awesome bike ever.

Day 11 - From Dust to Dawn

Another early morning. Woken up by the sunrise once again. I just love this country's sunny states. The weather wasn't going to be too hot so I didn't have to leave too early. After a quarter of a musli bar and one weak coffee I hit the road at 8am. I thought I'd stop in the next bigger city, like an hour later to have a proper breakfast. Well, it would take a little longer.

The night before I found a more scenic road than I80, 49 (Nevada) or Jungo Road. If I had looked a little more closely I would have seen that this road ended after about 100 miles at a "town" called Gerlach. Gerlach is a short drive away from another, seasonally bigger "town", called "Black Rock City", the hometown of Burning Man. But I hadn't.

So I drove on that road and after 8 miles the pavement became a little rough. But still easy to ride. So I continued for 32 more miles. Some trucks and pickups passed me and maps reassured me that I was still on 49. And I still had cell phone coverage. Still no reason to be concerned. Shortly before Maps said "turn left", the road became a lot worse. Gravel and dirt, potholes filled with sand, the ones that every cyclist hates. And stones, potholes without sand, the whole collection. 

I didn't really take any pictures of the worst part as I focused on not dropping the bike...

At this point it looked as if continuing would be shorter than driving back. So, I continued. Talk about rocky road. A couple times I ended up in one of those sandy potholes and had fun trying to keep my bike from falling. It kind of seemed easier than with a bicycle but the prospect of having to pick up the bike in the middle of nowhere (My friend Mira called it "home" because it was so close to Burning Man) didn't appeal to me. Neither did the thought of having to walk or hitch hike in case it broke down. The truck or pick up drivers wouldn't have minded it, I suppose. Anyway, I kept going, and the bike did, too. The scenery was amazing, I was almost on my own. Well, I did not see any car on the last 30 miles. That last part of the road reminded me a lot of the trails I run on, back home at my parents'. 

My own little pre-compression :-). 

At one point, turning left looked a lot more appealing than going straight but Maps insisted that straight was a yellow "road" while left was just a grey "path" so I continued straight. I could see the highway 1-2 miles to my left but my road kept going straight for miles. Also, I was a little concerned that I might end up in front of a gate, field, fence, river, or just a gap in the road. At this point I couldn't have gone back as I didn't have enough gas anymore. And then, after almost 3 hours and 70 miles of dust I made it back to the properly paved highway! That felt like sleeping on a mattress after weeks of camping in the ground! Even the headwind didn't bother me anymore. And at 11.30am I finally got my breakfast! And I took a first look at my bike and boots:

The last part of the trip was easy. Down 95 which was perfect without the heat.

And then west on highway 50 to South Lake Tahoe. I hadn't been there in 10 years but I remembered the highway, the curves, and the stunning views because we went on a motorcycle ride around the lake then. And when I entered my hotel room I got compensated for all the dirt with a beautiful lake view.

The first thing I did was to get a pedicure.  Bright neon sparkly pink. After all this bike, adventurer, desert thing I needed something girly. It'll also fit perfectly with my sparkly white-pink wakeboard (I know why I got open-toed boots). 

Oh yeah, I tend to forget to close on my title. I talked about the dust enough. Now, where's the Dawn? Well, I am sitting in this restaurant on the pier with a perfect view of the lake and sunset-to-be, trying to come up with a smart headline for today's post. And then, my waitress appears and asks me if I wanted a drink. Her name is "Dawn"... And she looks exactly like Sonja Kirchberger, a German actress.

Day 10 - Gamble with the Wind

I quickly learned why today was so much cooler than I had expected. Wind. And what a wind that was. I added layer after layer but only when I finally left the cloudy area I stopped shivering. The wind, however, continue blowing heavily. And there was this mean looking dark front at the horizon. Right where I had to go. And I could see the rain pouring out of it.

And I did end up in it. But luckily, only for a few minutes. Thanks to the wind.. Which kept pushing the bike so that it was constantly bent to one side. As if I was driving through curves. Just less fun and less active pushing on my side. I just hung on and held against the wind. This is how it must feel to break in a mustang. Well, luckily without the up and down jumping. Just left and right. 

After the third huge truck had passed me (two of them got pulled over a few miles later) I thought it might make things easier for me if I just hid behind one of them. Well, the headwind was less strong. But there were all kinds of weird turbulences going on which made it even harder to keep the bike in a straight line. So I stopped doing that and just hung in there. For all 290 miles to Winnemucca.

Now I'm done with my nap, or better woke up after passing out and am having dinner in my hotel, the Winnemucca Inn and Casino. Funny crowd. I wonder if some of them actually do stay for longer than a night. It's kind of like a geriatric ward of Las Vegas. And anyone else, who is traveling through. Like me. I think I could write a whole post about gambling. Why people do it and why I don't. Well, the latter I because I inherited the love for gambling from my mother but, unfortunately, not the luck.

It started with card games I played with my parents and my brother. Mainly "Doppelkopf", four players, 40 cards, ten of hearts is the highest trump and whoever holds the queens of clubs (second highest trump), plays together. There's all kinds of rules and funny outcomes. But the main outcome for me was to lose 2-3 D-Marks to, mostly my mother. But at least she taught me the only way to deal with gambling. If you absolutely want or have to. Get chips once. For a limited amount of money. And then gamble. Win, lose, but don't get any more chips. Maybe I'll try that again tomorrow night in South Lake Tahoe.

I also noticed that I prefer to meet other bikers while I'm on the bike or at least close enough to it that I can be associated with it. It's not that much fun when you walk down the street in Winnemucca in shorts and boots and get whistled at by dudes on Harleys. And you can't just yell back:"I'm one of you guys, dude (enter stronger word here), so stop that whistling!"

Day 9 - Mad Max and Falls

After a not too quiet night in the Hatchet Resort in Grand Teton, thanks to a toilet pipe that made the wooden wall squeak every time someone used the bathroom, I got back on the road towards Twin Falls, Idaho. The Tetons were extra nice to me and appeared majestic in front of a perfect blue sky.

Surprisingly, they didn't look all that impressive from the other side. I was back in Idaho. This time a totally different Idaho. A huge plain with mountains on the horizon. I took the scenic route and drove by and almost around the Craters of the Moon national park. The ground covered with dark lava rocks and craters and small bushes. Going on for miles and miles and miles. 

I had become really hot so I opened every available zipper with the result that a few bugs crashed into my wrists. I'm used to them hitting my helmet and jacket and spreading their intestines all over the place when they explode. The big ones really hurt as if you got slingshot. But having them all over my skin made me wonder how those Harley riders can ride in t-shirts and some even without helmets. But I guess, once your skin has turned into leather thanks to years of tanning, you might not notice the yellow jackets anymore that are hitting your arms, chest, and forehead. Or maybe they just catch them with their teeth :-).

It went on like on the pictures above for a couple more hours until I reached Twin Falls. By then I was almost roasted and really tired. Nothing a cold shower and a nap couldn't fix. After that I got to see the name givers, the Twin Falls. 

Tomorrow's destination is Winnemucca, Nevada. According to the weather forecast no more roasting is to be expected. Yeah!

Day 8 - Through Montana to Wyoming

Wyoming. The fifth state so far. Without counting California. And again a totally different scenery. I left Butte in the morning and my route would take me through parts of Montana, Wyoming with Yellowstone and Grand Teton.  

I had the best time at the Toad Hall Manor B&B in Butte. It didn't feel like a hotel at all. More like staying with a friend's parents. I got cocktails and dinner and we talked for hours until I could hardly keep my eyes open and went to sleep. After another rich breakfast I left towards southeast. Montana is probably the most "Western" state I've seen so far. Well, Houston Airport doesn't count. And I mean real, authentic Western. It made me want to swap my bike for a horse for a few times. It's so incredibly wide. There seems to be so much space. It's not the "in your face" beauty of California or Idaho. It's more humble and quiet, a little rough around the edges and completely unpretentious and authentic. 

I liked the speed limit and all traffic sings. There weren't that many and the speed limit was usually 70 to 75 mph. Not a different limit for every type o road or curve. It was like "Don't go faster than this. However, you might want to go slower if the conditions require it." Common sense driving. Though that's easy in a state with only a few cars and roads that go either straight on for hours or have a few nice and easy turns. And most of the time you can see miles ahead. 

Eventually I reached Wyoming and, Yellowstone. It's huge and pretty and reminded me a lot of the Lüneburger Heide in Germany. Apart from the mountains in the background. Riverbeds, canyons, lots of small trees, dead trees, too, but they fit in well with the whole scenery. And hot springs. White ground with turquoise colored pools, copper stains and the steam coming out of the earth everywhere. And then the "big one", "Old Faithful". We waited an hour until it showed. A few splashes at first, until they became bigger and then we got the whole show. Lasted 3 minutes. I'm not going to write down any of the analogies that came to mind while I was watching this. Together with hundreds of other tourists. Too easy. 

And off we all went. I drove towards south and finally reached the Grand Teton National Park. I had seen pictures of the lake and the mountains. But I was not prepared for what I was about to see. I turned around a corner and there they were. I stopped to take a picture but couldn't. I just stood there. Stunned. Silent. Overwhelmed by the sight. I had seen similar mountains in the Alpes, Mt. Cook in New Zealand, Sierra Nevada in Spain. But here were four Mt. Cooks in a row. Partly covered with snow. Teased by a group of perky clouds and all of them reflecting perfectly on the otherwise deep blue surface of the lake.

Again, it's not that the sight was unfamiliar. It's just the sheer size and accumulation of those sights that takes your breath away. I don't think that there are enough or good enough words to describe what I felt when I looked at those mountains. Well, I had tears running down my cheeks. Something that usually happens during Puccini operas :-). 

Now I'm about to sleep after a dinner with a lovely Texan couple (god, I love hanging out with people who are so much taller than me). They had been all through the US with their motorcycle and now they'd tow their Harley behind their RV and take her for shorter tours. I was going to take a picture of the sunset but this is as far I got before I had to escape in order not to be eaten alive by Mosquitos. Even they are really mellow here. I killed three of them while they were taking their time settling in on my legs before biting me.

The other brother

I met this guy. He looked like a surfer, tanned but in a sportive, natural way. He went to all the right schools, Ivy League college, spent some time in Europe before that. Holds the door for you and smells like A&F perfume but not overwhelmingly so. Knows how to dress casually and formally. But his hair will still always have the surfer touch to it. He drives a cool sports car, rides a bicycle, and is into yoga. He's always relaxed, happy and open and sweet to everyone. Loves to go out have fun and date a few women at the same time. Because life is too short to not try another beer, wine, extreme sport, drug, or beautiful woman. I thought he was a great guy to hang out and have a lot of fun with. Until I met his brother.

He is older. Darker. Less educated, well, class room educated. He reads the news. He fixes things. From cars to pipes  and furniture. He navigates rapids, and knows how to survive in the wilderness, but he'd never boast about any of these skills. He doesn't use perfume. He smells like a day outside in fresh air that doesn't know smog. Or carbon dioxide for that matter. He drives a 30 year old pickup that he keeps fixing but can't part from. He's never seen a gym from the inside and doesn't need yoga because he spends so much time by himself outside or working with his hands that he doesn't know how it feels to be stressed. He will fall in love once. And spend the rest of his life with that person. Because he doesn't need something new and exciting every other week. 

Day 7 - "Day off"

Today was a relative slow day. I only had 120 miles to go so I took the opportunity and slept in. The thing that helped me with that was the time difference of one hour. So I woke up an hour later than usual :-).

The part of Montana I drove through was different from Idaho. A lot of green hills with more or less trees and snow capped mountains on the horizon that do not seem to come closer no matter how long you drive.

Very pretty and appropriate for my "day off". However, the thing that does not really help with "taking it easy" in Montana is that the speed limit is 70 miles or 75 on interstates. Which means that you usually go at least 10 miles faster. I suppose less people on a square mile make it less dangerous to drive fast. And you get faster to places, such as your neighbor's house. This state seems even bigger than Idaho. So wide. Open. Free. Lots of cows and green. And very nice people. Such as my inn keepers. After three mojitos and a dinner (at a B&B ) I'm ready to sleep. I also learned that they used to be neighbors with Evel Knievel, who lived two houses away. I guess I will be dreaming of jumping across cars with my Ducati tonight. And I might do it tomorrow if traffic at Yellowstone is too bad :-).

Day 6 - I love Idaho

I'll probably write the same about Montana tomorrow but right now I'm so in love with this state. Today was the best ride so far. Gorgeous, breathtaking, stunning, short, fucking awesome!! I had originally planned to drive up north to Sandpoint and the down southeast on Highway 200. But during breakfast (another rich, almost scary French toast experiment)

the host told the other guests, a couple on a Goldwing, about the beautiful road down south they were going to take. His face was all lit up and he was very enthusiastic. When I asked him about my  planned route he just said:"Yeah, that's a nice road, too." with a very bland face. I knew that the route south would be a lot longer than my planned one so I kept asking him about it until I was sure which way I wanted to take. South, another pass, lots o curvy roads, 350 miles of stunned awe. 

And off I went. Down 95 towards Lewiston and then across some smaller highways to highway 12. At one point the high plain opened into another huge canyon. Even before that I was able to see hundreds of miles in every direction. Snow or tree capped mountains, plains, fields, more trees, canyons. But then the road went down into the canyon, curves and views that made me want to cry. Well, the road work related gravel made me want to cry, too. But then, the slower I went the more I was able to enjoy the view. 

Unfortunately, the canyon pics are on my real camera and I'll have to post them later. 

I reached the bottom of the canyon and had lunch before I started the 187 mile ride along the 12.

Every time I talk to people here they eventually learn that I'm German and, I swear, everyone has either relatives in or from Germany or has spent some time there at one point. No wonder, everything in the Northern States reminds me of some part of Germany. There's alps, fields, meadows, rivers, lots of pine trees, lakes. Well, everything is the XXXL version, though. Like highway 12. It's like driving along a small mountain river. Trees and mountains on both sides, long curves parallel the river. Only that in Germany you can't drive 125 miles (~200km) without driving through a city or even just a small village! And, the river would be much smaller.

You just turn and turn and accelerate and turn again and look around and can't believe how blessed you are to be in this very place in this very moment with this awesome bike that seems to enjoy this ride even more than I do. I know it sounds weird but I swear that she looks at me every morning as if she wanted to say:"Dude, hurry up, get dressed, and get your f***ing ass on top off me so that we can get on the road!". Btw., I finally gave her a name. Figured, that being on the road with someone/thing for such a long time requires a different way to address her/it than "you" or "bike". I named her "Fury". Black, dirty, fast, temperamental, and particularly nice to only one person. Don't know about the last part, but the first four are true.

When I took the last chance to get gas before the summit I met a few bikers from Montana who looked like they had been on the bike for some time longer than me. Weathered, wild hair, bags and camping gear. And of course, I got my picture taken with two of them. Unfortunately not the wildest looking ones. But, the dude on the left has an eye pad :-).

Should have worn a weapon, though. They usually make my ass and thighs look less fat in pictures :-). 

When driving what was supposed to be "up" the mountain to the pass it didn't really feel like going uphill. And I guess this makes sense in a country with an abundance of space. In France, Switzerland, or, worst, Madeira, there's just less room for the road to cross the mountain. So there are tons of curves, one tighter than the other, it's steep and the roads are narrow. So you do feel that you're climbing up or driving down a high mountain. But here you don't. The road begins to ascend that far away from the mountain, that you don't even notice you're going uphill. I mentioned Madeira because there's a 7,000 ft elevation and the island is only a few kilometers broad. That's what I call steep. At one point I had to start the car uphill and it took me several attempts to get it to actually drive and not die. While gaining elevation within short distance, gaining distance was much harder. The whole island is about 50 kilometers long but the drive a long the coast is almost three times as long, thanks to an incredible amount of curves.

Now I'm in Missoula, Montana, eating dinner and fighting to keep my eyes open. My hotel is about a quarter of a mile away but I think I might not make it.

Day 5 - The looong road to Idaho

This is where I am right now about to have dinner. Today was my longest leg so far. 325 miles across Washington state from Seattle to Coeur D'Alene in Idaho. It started with a freezing ride across Stevens Pass to cross an alpine mountain ridge that still had snowy caps down a beautiful river valley with scary rapids that ended in a very creepy town called Leavenworth. It had this Bavarian theme that made me feel like I just crossed the Alps on my way back from Italy. I thought about stopping for a second to take a picture but I was too stunned and creeped out by the whole setting and I really just wanted to get away from there. 

It went further along through the valley and it got really warm. From the deep green pine forrest that scared me a little when I stopped to take a picture (helmet and motorcycle gear don't protect as well against bears and whatever else might live in those areas as a car) 

to yellow hills, big canyons, and flat that goes on for ever.

Literally. You see the horizon and once you've reached it, there's another one, even farther away. Fortunately, whoever it was who designed that road managed to build in some canyons and lakes to keep the bored rider from falling asleep. It starts with a curve out of nowhere that catches your attention. And another one. And you notice that the road starts descending. And before you know, a valley opens and this canyon appears. And you're just amazed and stunned by thousands of years of seismic activity that was necessary to produce something so beautiful. 

At one point the canyon was nicely arranged around a lake that was so clear an still that I felt like putting on my wakeboard and jumping across every available wake.

Although the ride was really tiring and I had trouble keeping my eyes open during the last 50 miles I really enjoyed the absence of traffic after two nights in larger cities. And it made me really look forward to Montana, Wyoming, and Nevada.

When I finally arrived at my bed and breakfast I found it to be a very cute place with beach access to a little bay on the side of Spokane River. So, after my host finished the long and thorough walk through and instructions I took a quick bath. First in the river and then in the hot tub. With a view over the bay. Yeah, if I could have seen myself in that moment I would have hated me, too. But, hey, You ride 325 miles on that road and then we can talk again :-). 

I took a quick look at the car show in Coeur D'Alene, The Thing this weekend. Well, hundreds of people lining the street looking at hundreds of old cars driving by. Granted, pretty old cars. But after five minutes I almost fainted because of the exhaust smoke and had to leave. They should park the cars and let people stroll along. But that would involve actual physical activity beyond moving your right hand and right foot :-).