Author Archives: keith_ritter

The Final Dispatch

Now it is winter. From the kitchen table where I am writing, snow covers the perennial and vegetable gardens and the apple tree’s graceful limbs are sketched against the pale gray sky. I see fox tracks wandering down to the horse chestnut tree. Birds are busy at the sunflower feeders and the four-sided suet cage attracts downy woodpeckers and both red-breasted and white-breasted nuthatches. Cavorting chickadees are everywhere. The birds splotches of color are pleasing in the monochromatic wash of our habitat.

The notion of pedaling a bike amidst 97 degrees and punishing headwinds through Badlands NP seems so distantly foreign. But it really did happen!

21 cyclists plus 5 guides, have them move from place to place in concert every day and oh, by the way, ride a bike for 3800+ miles over hill and dale no matter the weather? It’s a social experiment bar none. Better than that it was the human condition showing itself in every kind of encounter. With eyes wide open I observed how my fellow P2P’ers and I handled fatigue, heat, rain, wind, 16 century/century+ days, a different bed every night, bicycle malfunctions, laundry obligations, gut grief, saddle sores, humdrum paltry breakfasts at too many Holiday Inn Express lodgings and muling luggage to a room every night only to lug it back to the luggage trailer every morning.

Some days smiles were harder to come by. Did we pedal anyway? Yup.

The collective nature of our task over-rode the daily setbacks or frustrations that stymied all of us at one point or another. Extending grace to another who was having a frustrating or tough day helped smoothed their road. I can remember Guide Blake matter of factly saying somewhere in the middle of Wyoming to someone who was complaining about the blasting heat and wind, “We signed up to ride across the country which means we are going to encounter all kinds of weather.”

It all worked out due to having 5 superlative humans as our guides and because 21 out of 21 of us were determined to rely on our persistence no matter what. The unsung virtue.The quiet ability to keep going when all around you events seem to conspire to create hardship just for you. The pressing daunting heat, the head winds, the hills, the hill that always came when I was sure I had no more to give. Somehow I always had something more to pull out of myself. Persistence. Belief.

To a cyclist we knew the ineluctable truth: we had to pedal those bikes for so many many miles to get where we wanted to go. The endlessness of South Dakota and her ferocious unrelenting heat sucked some joy out of each of us at some point. It became a game for Sandy and me to wonder how long it would be until we’d see a sliver of shade. Oh, there it was at lunch one day. Each day we woke up and oriented ourselves eastward. Each day Sandy would say to me as we rode along, “I could do this all day!” To which I would respond, “Lucky for you, let’s keep going!”

There’s an unexplainable thing inside me that is wired to find joy in the doing of a venture like this one. Each day I was eager to ride. Each day I was engaged. Each day was it’s own distinct experience with a new route to explore and to know that at the end of my effort a warm meal and a bed were waiting. Whether cycling alone or with others, I liked taking big gulps of what was all around me absorbing it all for more energy. I noted every grasshopper that leaped up and brushed my shins, each crumpled on the road butterfly, the creases in the rock formations, the osprey and eagles, the roadside chicory that I spied all the way in every state all the way until Vermont. I could never look away from the disfigured remnants of so many alluring creatures and my heart cracked each time. It still does as I remember the stilled wildlife.

To know that these strengths are still part of me is a pleasing comfort. For years and years I found joy in the training necessary to be an elite middle distance runner. I was able to conjure that same joy for the 8.5 months I trained for P2P and then, most importantly, find it again for the journeying days across the country.

My will? Iron strong. My heart? Powerful and honed. My mind? Always engaged in the doing in front of me.

Energy begets energy. Being around people who are faucets and not drains makes an endeavor sing. I gravitated towards those who were buoyant and could see the shade when there was none, who could bend into the biting winds and not say a word and see the sun when it rained (only 3 days of that, we were so very lucky). One of my favorite memories was seeing Ian one late afternoon as he barged into our hotel lobby in the middle of nowhere. He looked at me since I was the first person he encountered upon getting off his bike and he thundered, “Those last 20 miles were HORRIBLE.” I couldn’t help laughing.

Completing P2P has left me with a cornucopia of memories and experiences that will remain rich and real. So what’s ahead? The roads will find me in Solvang, Greenville and Mallorca on TT Ride Camp weeks. Vermont’s gravel roads will be on my docket in July. Autumn beckons with TT Ride Across Italy and the stunning Ride the Ridges 100K in Cabot, VT. Looking further ahead has me eyeing the TT Pyrenees Sea to Sea trip for 2024.

Training is my daily truth. It’s powered all the more by knowing I’ve got P2P quietly riding in my back pocket. A touchstone that abides. A reminder that I’ve got plenty to give. A reminder to say, “Why not?”

You’ve heard plenty from me by now. If you are considering joining this marvelously challenging and beautiful trip I’ll leave you with this: Believe, believe, believe.

Finally, I asked a few of my fellow P2P adventurers to share why they joined this audacious idea of a trip. If you find yourself nodding your head and thinking “I could do this” while reading their comments then you know what to do. Sign up!

Thanks for reading.

Lynn Jennings

Why did you decide to ride Cross Country USA?

Pat: “Why Not?!!!”
Having completed 25 marathons, 40 plus ½ marathons, 15 Half and 2 full Ironman, and canoed in the Boundary Waters, this was the next big adventure on my laundry list (aka Bucket List) of things I really wanted (and needed) to do… and what better time than now.
So, when I knew could wrangle 50 days away in the summer/fall of 2022 from work; and my hubby who was very willing to hold down the fort and take care of our 2 dogs and who was extremely supportive and encouraging me to go for it…
“Why Not!!!” I never looked back and I am so very glad I embraced my “Why Not” along with my 20 other P2P riders. And the best part of it all for me is that WE ALL MADE IT.

Mike: At my retirement party I announced to my colleagues that I would be riding across the country with Trek Travel. I joked that this trip was the most difficult physical challenge I could think of that didn’t involve a death zone and bottled oxygen. I was excited to place a capstone on my athletic career and as a non-directed kidney donor, I wanted to inspire potential donors and allay their concerns. But those weren’t the only reasons. Over the course of my career, I’ve flown millions of miles, crisscrossing the county, peering out the window and wondering what it’s like down there. I’ve been especially intrigued by the west – looking down at the irrigated crop circles, like emerald islands in a sea of brown connected by two lane roads leading from one grain silo to the next. I wanted to ride those roads, cruise through those small towns and do it in the most visceral way possible, from the seat of a bike.

Jacque: As I neared my 60th birthday I was feeling inspired to do something big and adventurous. The beauty of life is its fragility, so while I have it I want to use it. I had an idea that I wanted to stretch my boundaries and engage in a process that pushed beyond what I thought was possible. When I first started dreaming of cycling across the country I wasn’t even a serious rider, however an encouraging voice from a fellow female rider and Trek Travel guide was the inspiration I needed to take the leap and start training. The flow we can all experience when we dig into the well of power within us to keep pushing through long rides is the biggest reason why I stayed the course. I rode across the southern route of the US and was hooked on the feeling of fortitude and resilience to get up and go every morning again and again and again. This second ride across the northern US I was seeking a sense of solidarity with my fellow riders through the demanding terrain. My passion to keep pedaling was fueled by a belief in myself, appreciation for my body and its capacity to carry me, and connection with the riders around me.

Sandy: I was fascinated with the idea of powering myself across this continent on my own two wheels. I am always amazed by the beautiful diversity in our land, and seeing it from a bike is different than from a car. It is a totally different experience! The changes in the topography of the land each day, like from the Columbia River Gorge to the wheat fields of Oregon. From the plains of South Dakota to the lush cool cliffs of Deadwood South Dakota. On a bike, there is more interaction with the locals as you ride by, both are more likely to greet each other and have a brief conversation. Or as in Wisconsin the shy wave of the Amish children walking on the side of the road as we rode next to them. There is also the sound of water as you ride next to a stream, lake or river. I will never forget the smell of pine in the air as we rode along the Clearwater river all day, the wheat blowing in the air with fine bits of it all over the road in eastern Oregon and the constant chirping of the prairie dogs in the Badlands.

There is also the challenge mentally, not just physically to be able to face every daily challenge. I knew this would be part of the trip and the challenge, but I didn’t appreciate the full extent of it until it was over. It is one of the things I look back on and feel a sense of accomplishment. The constant heat in South Dakota, the threat of headwinds, rain, bad breakfasts, detours on the route, a bike malfunction, a lumpy bed or noisy room air conditioner. I’ll always remember knowing that we faced every challenge with a happy spirit with guides who helped us solve the daily puzzle.

Carlin: Riding my bike across the country was a notion that stemmed from a conversation with a young man in a Friday morning boot camp at the Gym. He is/was a member of the royal family of the UAE – they figured out that he was gay and was sent to Switzerland for high school and to the US for college with gentle hints not to return. He is now a successful business man and is married to a physician. In our conversation he told me that his husband rode cross country in his college-med school “gap year”. He did it the hard way with paniers and camping but I resolved that I too would do the crossing. I trained hard and attempted to sign up in 2021 to find out that the trip was full. Thus I signed up for 2022, trained like hell, and had the absolute time of my life.

I expected a major physical challenge and was hoping at 64 years of age that I could rise to the challenge. It turned out that I was rewarded with new friendships that have continued after the conclusion of the ride and I got a chance to see the country and the beauty that can never be understood by driving or a fly over with a plane.

At the completion of the ride – I wished that I could continue to ride a century daily but life – being what it is – has had other plans. That said – I was able to bring joy to others by sharing my trip with hundreds of followers and have memories that I will treasure for the rest of my life. It is said that when life ends – you regret the things that you DON’T do not the things you do. I am 100% sure that this axiom is correct.

Days 42-46: Cazenovia, NY -> Portland, ME. 3,368 total miles and 134,138 ft of total elevation.

Day 42: Cazenovia, New York Five days left in this “Crazy 47 day ‘see the country weight loss program’ trip” as one of my fellow cyclists dubbed our endeavor.

A day off the bike is a treat in that one re-discovers the joys of walking. How refreshing to stroll the one main street in Cazenovia, find a coffee shop, sit on the porch, enjoy late September warmth while sipping an artisanal hot chocolate. realize one’s weary cycling fanny does not like the hard metal chair, chat up Rae and Brent as they showed up for coffee and then perambulate with Silk back to the Brewster Inn. A triumph all the way round. I’ve missed walking.

Silk was a lawyer for a few hours, I re-organized my kit so that I could more easily find what would be needed for a few more rainy days, followed that up with a 90 minute nap and before we knew it we were walking to dinner to the Brae Loch Inn with Pat and Sandy where live Celtic music was on offer.

The mac and cheese, salmon, burgers and salads were fine enough and Sandy, Pat, Ian, Silk and I made our way back to the deserted Brewster Inn’s gift shop with its magnificently stocked ice cream freezer loaded with pints of various flavors from a local concern. We chose a few pints to share, scored some spoons and bowls from the kitchen and had the Inn’s big pub room to ourselves as we dug in.

Today’s themes:

The prospect of rain.
The prospect of serious hills post-lunch.
Riding the day after a rest day isn’t some grand reprieve from fatigue.
When will the rain hit?

Doubt I was the only one with these four themes running through my head. Oh yeah, I’ll add a fifth to make it an even quintet: what combinations of kit should I wear if the rain doesn’t hit until the afternoon?

This morning at breakfast it was all about, “What are you wearing?” The avid meteorologists-in-training were consistently saying the same things to whomever would listen, “It will rain but not until after lunch.” The glowering skies in Cazenovia were giving way to blue and rosy hues so our morning groups launched under promising conditions.

Final consensus: rain pants over tights or go without rain pants.

There’s no denying rain pants on a bike are amateur hour looking and yet considerably helpful when one is talking about endless miles with soaking wet tights. Cold weather means tights are de rigueur and a cold rain means rain pants are a smart choice over those tights.

So Silk, Sandy and I started out with rain pants wondering if they were the right thing. After our brief lunch stop at mile 55 with Sandy checking the hourly forecast, we realized we were sitting in the cat bird seat. We’d be encountering rain within just a few miles after lunch. No need to scurry around to a van, find one’s bag, pull out rain pants and don while hopping around hoping one’s bike shoes and booties would make it through the lower leg opening of the rain pants.

First pro tip: buy rain pants with a very long lower leg zipper.

Second pro tip: put a ziplock baggie around one’s cycling shoes using knife or manicure scissors (Sandy!) to cut holes for cleats to fit through.Don booties. Shoes stay dry!

After a brief and happy meet-up with sculling training partner Ken at the lunch stop, we three set out to conquer the soon to come hills and cope with the rain. Happily the brilliant orange and red leaves, bronzed ferns, and shining in autumn garb cat tails were striking with the pigeon gray skies all around. The rain came down, we powered up the hills and flew on the descents getting wetter by the minute but with dry feet and legs. Silk and I had a couple of fun push me/pull you uphill duels. Sandy enjoys the way the hill melts away as she watches us tussle.

All in all the 92 miles slid by and we were triumphant upon our near to 2pm arrival to the Irondequoit Inn in Piseco. We were the 3rd, 4th and 5th to arrive and it was quite something watching sodden, cold and tired cyclists come stumbling in over the next hour. Persistence personified.

Poor Ian was underdressed and his bright pink hands were curled into claws when he staggered in. Hot showers and a cozy wood stove soon put everything to rights. As Ron noted in his journal, “This was a nice ride until it wasn’t.” Cold rain enveloped him the last 25 miles to the Inn. He said the rain served to highlight his one poor choice in clothing; he didn’t bring gloves for cold, wet weather.

More rain tomorrow as we migrate to Ticonderoga. After that we will have sun and autumn colors in VT and NH. Four days of cycling remain.

Day 43: Piseco, New York Morning at the Irondequoit Inn dawned still, freshly washed and with pink promising skies. My frequent checks of the hourly conditions in Piseco and Ticonderoga meant it was a bifurcated day in terms of clothing. With temps in high 50’s and pink skies at 7:30 am then showers and dropping temps showing throughout the day. The perennial question, “what to wear?” predominated. Wearing the yellow Showers Pass jacket meant hotting up and sweating. No rain jacket at all would be ill considered.

I bent to the task of assembling two day bags: one for rest stop 1 and one for lunch. That way I could strip down to a dry base layer and don or doff the appropriate jacket, rain pants along with helmet cover and beanie as rain became imminent. I started with light Rapha rain topper and tights. No rain pants. No beanie.

The morning was an autumn aficionado’s delight: brightening skies, damp roads, leaves on fire, no wind, sparkling rivers and brooks, glistening grasses. Sandy and I rode as a duo today and as we swung along we both felt the power of the day. Not a day to be gotten through. An 85 mile, 4000 foot day to savor. So it might rain? We were ready.

Highway 8 took us a long way today and it was a winding, low traffic, excellent tar colorful flyway. The roads pulled us onward. We climbed and dropped, we went around corners with maple and sumac reds popping. The oranges and yellows layered evenly all around. We were riding through a silent watercolor. When the sun came out spraying her light through the trees our small slice of the world shone. Photos can’t capture what we were riding through. Taking it all in every mile of the day proved to be the only way.

We crossed the Sacandaga and Hudson rivers today. Guide Brian was staged on the former to snap our pics as we rolled through.

Lunch was a brief affair punctuated by pulling on rain pants, helmet cover and exchanging my brick colored Rapha jacket for the blazing yellow Showers Pass topper. After checking the hourly weather again it was obvious we’d be riding right into the rain. Took us but a few miles and then we were pelted. Sandy called to me, “I’m fine with this! I love it!” That set our tone and we buoyantly powered our way for the next few hours before crossing into Ticonderoga.

With 2.85 miles to go we came across the Wind Chill Factory. Sandy was alerted by Pat that as we approached Ticonderoga there would be a noted ice cream joint. We were wet and cold. Did we stop? Yup! Was it good? Absolutely! Another organizing principle on P2P was the pursuit and chase for ice cream in whatever towns we found ourselves in. The usual suspects of Pat, Sandy, Silk and me plus easy recruits Ian and Jacque and a few stray others meant we had some seriously memorable treats as we progressed across the US of A.

Sandy and I shoved off with a sugar buzz, descended into town, looped around the small roundabout entering town while admiring the stunning Liberty monument and found our way to the Best Western. As we closed in I realized anew that VT would be just minutes away tomorrow and the end of the trip was happening right now.

The day ended on a wonderful high. My long time PDX bestie Heather grew up 20 miles north of Ticonderoga. She left Hartford where she is now living and drove up to surprise me at the Best Western. Thanks to TT’s exhaustive P2P website, she knew what hotel I’d be at. Given all the P2P reports I’d been sending out along the way she had a pretty good idea of how long I’d be out on the road and about when I’d be pulling into the Best Western.

Wow. Big sign. With me thinking, “What? Heather?!” A kismet surprise that had me grinning. Heather housesat for my sweet Portland, OR house and wonderful kitty Petey one summer and autumn when I was in VT. She made a paper “Good luck Mom” sign and Petey sat near it to send me good tidings for my Head of the Charles race. A memory that always makes me happy.

Heather hung out and kept Sandy and me company as we monitored laundry and stretched on the upstairs hall carpet plus she stayed for dinner. After dinner Sandy, Pat and I piled into her Mini Cooper and she drove us to the Wind Chill (Heather knew all about the Wind Chill from her nearby growing up years) so Pat and she could get some ice cream. Pat had a tough day. Her iPhone came off her handlebars and she didn’t realize it until some miles later. Guide Brian who was at rest stop 1 circled back in the minivan and spent 90 minutes driving the first 17 miles of our route looking for it and coming up empty. Gallant effort. Ice cream helped soothe Pat’s tension and left us all smiling.

Day 44: Ticonderoga, New York The chilly seven minute Lake Champlain ferry crossing from Ticonderoga over to VT got our day started. With a quick stop at the Welcome to Vermont sign we lit out for Hanover. Silk stopped for some photos early on and I just kept going and going.

I rode solo all day, bypassed lunch and the rest stops other than to refill water at rest stop 2 and was in a happy groove, I was appreciating the silence and my ability to look around and see everything without having to engage with anyone else all day long. I felt fantastic powering up Brandon Gap and let it all unspool from there. The 88 miles flashed by and with 5600 feet of climbing I was bent to the task with concentration and effort.

Lovely Hanover with its inviting Hanover Inn was our night’s lodging. Once arrived I went for a long walk over to the Connecticut River to see the gorgeous Dartmouth boathouse, across campus down to the familiar track and then back to the Green enjoying a hot chocolate while watching the students traipse past. With two days remaining I felt the push and pull of knowing the finish was so near.

Tomorrow our penultimate ride will take us up and over the Kancamagus Highway and also Bear Notch. Lots of miles, lots of elevation.

Day 45: Hanover, New Hampshire The Hanover Inn was a sumptuous and elegant overnight respite and we woke to river valley ground fog, thick and cold as thieves. Happily our fore and aft blinking lights can cut through the densest fog so we felt safe heading out. It was also 34 degrees.

Our day ahead? 7500 feet of elevation as we cut through the White Mountains via the Kanc. It was destined to be a century day because Silk and I decided to add on the extra 3 miles. The sun was going to be shining. We were willing. Why not?

Kit choice today: purple Rapha winter jacket, arm warmers underneath, leg warmers, shoe booties, beanie under helmet and winter technical lobster claw cycling gloves (so shifting could happen). Plus a buff around my neck. Brrrrrrrrr.

Sooner or later once the real climbing started it became a sweat management morning: Unzipping my jacket on the climbs, zipping back up on the rip roaring descents. Soon enough the sun burnt off the fog and I doffed the beanie, the arm warmers and the winter riding jacket. Went with the brick colored topper coat and soon that was also bundled into my jersey pocket.

We flew in and out of lunch in less than ten minutes and were the first to start tackling the climb up the Kanc. Silk and I know every wrinkle of that climb having trained on it too many times to remember and it’s a long slog. 10 miles, I think. Then the zippity 6 mile descent before the up and over of sinuous and alluring Bear Notch with its delicious I never want it to end descent. Combined with the earlier up and over Route 18 in the Moosilauke area meant we really earned it today. There are some diabolical minds in the trip planning department at TT. Amy Davison I’m looking at you! Big time elevation today. A fitting earn the stripes wind down effort near the end.

Silk and I arrived in North Conway and the Comfort Inn with plenty of daylight to spare. A treat!

Agog at the concept: tomorrow is our last route to tackle. Unbeknownst to Ron, the idea was floated by Mike and we all agreed: Ron will be the one to lead us into Crescent Beach. Gobs of friends and family are sure to be there to ring cowbells and cheer us in.

Day 46: North Conway, New Hampshire -> Portland, Maine Today was a whirlwind of color, excitement and flurries of activity.

I had two technical issues with my bike at the start in North Conway which needed Guide Brian’s mechanical skills. I had to hold off while our group went on ahead. Guide Brian bent to the task of sorting out my gearing and the electronics and he got me on the road in record time.

I was so looking forward to riding with Sandy, Ian and Pat but time was precious today and off they went. Silk and I rode with Guides Brent and Rae and we reveled in the 68 mile jaunt absorbing the dazzling colors in Baldwin particularly as we approached Portland. By the time the four of us whirred into Scarborough there was just enough time for Silk to grab a few slices of pizza lunch while I changed into dry kit. Now near the coast the slightly warmer temps meant shedding leg warmers and heavier jackets.

With Ron leading our razzle dazzle group we formed a serpentine line behind him as we rolled the final few miles from Scarborough to Crescent Beach State Park. Bruce came by with his GoPro and we all one by one saluted, waved, smiled and fist pumped our moods.

Ron pushed and pulled us and we loved it. Our last ride. 21 of us strong. He had a tear in his eye as we grouped around him and jubilantly rolled into the beach en masse to the clamor of cheering and ringing cowbells. Friends and families holding signs, smiling, waving, hugging. It was a scene.

Bike cleats and socks went flying, champagne and beers were poured, toasts were made, bikes were hoisted and we stood in the ocean with them. Guide Blake was taking photos and all around were families beaming in wonder all thinking the same thing, “They rode all the way across the country!”

The rolling waves hosted us as singly and in groups we lifted our bikes and cheered for ourselves. We finally collected into two groups and stood in the ocean: one group of our ten women (the most ever on a P2P journey) and the other of all of us together.

Portland to Portland 2022. We did it. It’s a puzzler to sort out the truth that by pedaling one day after another we rode across the USA. There’s a lesson in there somewhere and I’m catching glimpses of it.

It feels like a dream. A savage, resilient, deep, tender, beautiful, soaring, gritty, will I turn it into something dream.

Portland to Portland. Trained for, executed and now done.

Imagine that.