carnIval 2005: a celebration of all that is not biking

Come one, come all to the event of the summer.

You have experienced the carnivorous carways of Canada, the magnificent mountains of Montana and the perilous passes of Pyoming. But, BUT I say, BUT, have you... HAVE YOU... experienced CARNiVAL 2005?

No? Well, let me fill you in on the debauchery that was today's main event.

We may not have had a bearded woman, a midget, a three-legged unicorn or a mermaid, but we did have Colin, Jon, Brum-Brum and Steve A (aka Booger) who decided to trade in their 20lbs bikes for some 12oz dumbells and a whole ton of fun.

The clowns (yes, they painted their faces white with Desitin) began the day pumping our heroic riders up with some "hot hits" and "jumpin jams" blastin from the van at 6am. "Why," you ask? Moving on...

With blood flowing and juicing going, the riders hoped on their bikes ready to conquer Waconda Pass. After yesterday's 20 mile climb, the pass seemed to go faster than cookies after a mail drop, prompting many to ask, "Wha' conda Pass is that?" (egg-hem, Kaitie Emmerling)

Rolling out of the pass, the group - who thought they had left the "clown"-ing around back in Republic - was shocked to see the first of many carnival stations the boys had set up along the ride.

First, at mile 20 there were events to test our riders senses. Coke-or-Pepsi? That was the question Clown Mori posed as he quizzed our riders. Tire-Toss? Clown Abramowitz harshly judged the rider's waning depth perception. To top the station off, Mori and Abramowitz forced riders to suckle from their Gatorade Luge and eat popsicles. At the end of Station 1, it must be said that Rider Chad and Rider Tory had accumulated the most Clown points with Rider Rachel "the Squirrel" Rubenstein in a close second.

At Station Two, Clown Dowdall and Clown Brummmert await the approaching bikers with the eagerness of lions stalking young children on the veldt. There the riders were forced to play "Dunk the Skunk" and "Three Card Monty." The challanges were feirce, yet the riders, who had yet to ride more than 10 consecutive miles throughout the day, were wiley and willing to play. They also enjoyed the free refreshments and music that accompanied their forray into the traveling world of the Carney.

Up the road, the festivities came to a halt at lunch with a raffle and prizes. Luckily, one of the prizes given to a young Ms. Aubrey was a water gun. Thank heavens because as the riders continued, the temperature climbed to a balmy 101 degreees. Not to worry.... it wasn't as if our perilious cross country adventurers had to ride on freshly laid assphalt over three miles of construction without any civilization in sight. The situation was ASS-phalt.

However, all is fair in travel and rest for the ying and yang of our day was restored with a bounty the church in Okanogan called a supper. After stuffing ourselves (again), we made haste to the big screen TV to watch a timeless movie and put our wearly bones to rest.

Tomorrow, I hear that the circus may be coming to town...

I can't wait to see you all in Seattle (especially Helane and Bruce)!

- posted by Le Clown Spectacular Steve "I can't stop picking my nose while riding my bike" Abramowitz

Washington already? (tear)

Hello from Republic, Washington. It really is the Evergreen State as all we have seen since entering Washington is mountains covered in trees. Today we climbed a PowederRiver-esque pass...about 4,500 feet in just over 20 miles. Aside from a few bee stings and a squirt-gun related minor injury, everyone made it and in excellent time. An equally troubling task awaited at the summit of the pass...devouring the extra 45 hamburgers and bucket of raspberries from last nights stay in Colville, but really, eating vast amounts of food hasn't been a problem all trip.

Our ride into Newport from Idaho was "leisurly" 35 miles (the last 5 or so being straight uphill) into Marshall Lake where we were warmly greeted by Peggy and Co. The lake was beautiful and housed one of HBC North's favorite off-road shenanigans...rope swinging. However, in wise form we stayed away from the thrid tier platform, which would have resulted in a 45 foot drop into the clear, cold water. We were warned and left the craziness to the locals. Our true athleticism came out later that night during an uber-competitive game of beach volleyball. Grace was not the name of the game...it was more like a combination of dodgeball and hockey rather than bump, set, and spike, but Dave B and Dave D. redeemed our name during a late-night game of Capture the Flag.

Yesterday we had a beautiful 91 mile ride into Colville and enjoyed a much needed swim in the Columbia River. First Presbyterian Church of Coville took mighty fine care of our caloric needs and we savored every piece of fruit and bar-b-que that they had to offer. Ok, off to enjoyed this cute little town. PS-I hope next 6 days is the longest week of my life. Posted by: Kaitie Shmemmerling

Idaho: A Rushed Journal Entry

As the 15 minute bell just sounded at the Sandpoint Public Library (those bastards), this journal entry will be short and less funny than it could be if I had time to edit. please feel free to fill in your own humor. Apologies in advance for anything inappropriate, but, again, i didn't have time to edit. All of Sandpoint sort of shuts down at 5:00 on Fridays for Shabbas anyway (see - I would have edited that out if i'd had time, but i don't...)

Today's ride from Libby, MT to Sandpoint was 82ish miles. very hilly at points. mixed weather. some good, some bad. mostly cold (surprisingly cold, in fact), some rain, but lots and lots of fun. many legs weren't functioning properly as a result of yesterday's strenous ride. In particular, the legs of Tasha, Akshay, and Katie McKeegan weren't working so well in the 6 mile race in which they got schooled by Colin, Dave Brummert, and Joseph. Even with the advantages of having just eaten and imbibed ridiculous amounts of caffeine, the weak three were bested by their starving and sore opponents. and Erica left Team Weak for Team Winner. point is: I won. They lost.

Mrs McLeod: Erin is still on the trip. in fact, she's biked every mile. why she never gets mentioned on here we don't know.

In other news... wow. so much to tell. Thanks to Mustang Sally for letting us stay at her RV park for $6 and letting us drive her brake-less golf cart. I bet HER library stays open past 5:00 on Fridays. again, those bastards...

Good Shabbas

Joseph

Pause for Poetry: A Collection of Haikus

From time to time on the road, Summar, Steve, and Diana get a little stir crazy. When Boticelli becomes no fun, we turn to other entertainments, such as the composition of fine poetry in a variety of genres. For our blog installment, we have selected the ancient Japanese arrangement of the Haiku to express our sentiments on the richness and pleasures that Montana has afforded us.

MONTANA: Gun racks on flatbeds. Hippie alcoves in the hills. Ironies abound.

Butte: Noodles sent from God. Artichokes in morning eggs. All praise the Dowdalls.

Nail guns shoot the sky. Caulking windows in Butte's heat. And spackle we did.

Look! Virgin Mary. See how she looks over us. Like a "Nite Owl."

See Jon Mori dance. Like a pixie in the night. Foxy shot taker.

Joseph in tight pants. Retro chic and classic charm. Pool shark. Pool shark. HOT.

Missoula: Left Good Times campground. Ah! Testicle Festival. For to camp on lawns.

Polson: Rocky roads behind. Dead bear mounted on a wall. Huckleberry shakes.

Flathead Lake: Sailboat on lake shore. Lindsay Page alone in raft. Beds for midday naps.

Goose crap on our feet. Love for burgers in our hearts. Uncle Dowdall rocks.

Sip. swirl. swoosh. smell. sigh. The fragrance of monster red. Montana wine. Whaaaaat?

Kalispell: Skip leads from the helm. Reckless, we wield power tools. Schhtools, shhhaws, doors, dirt... ssshhhweeeeeet.

----- End forwarded message -----

Le Tour de Camps: HBC tackles the great outdoors

HBC north has overcome many obstacles this summer--flat tires, lack of showers, mountain passes, and headwind, to name a few. But there was one thing that we had yet to conquer: camping. So far, camping has nearly conquered us, but we survived. Read on:

Day 1 of camping: After proving ourselves at Powder River Pass, the mere 8,589 ft pass guarding the entrance to Grand Teton National park was laughable. After the 30 mile uphill “warmup”, we stopped for lunch by a glacial lake. A bald eagle decided to join us for lunch. Colin, Diana, Kaitie, Rachel, Dave B, and Chad decided to take a dip in the lake. They learned a new meaning for the word “cold”. On the way into the park, we were greeted by the awe-inspiring peaks known as the Tetons. That night we took our first crack at pitching tents. Easy, right? Drinks were drunk, singing was sung. Clothes were stripped, if you were Danny. Dave B. collected 30 mosquitos. The mosquito situation was “redonkidonk”, according to Dave. Mof amazed us with her song-writing skills. Thus goes the HBC anthem (to the tune of “500 miles“ by the Proclaimers): “I would bike 2000 miles, and I would bike 2000 more Just to be the one to bike 4000 miles for housing for the poor”

The next morning, the group decided to take a swim….in their tents. You see, rainfall during the night flooded the tents. Hey, we’re cyclists, not outdoorsmen. A few of us took part in an exhilarating 5 mile hike around Jenny Lake. The highlight was seeing the Secret Waterfall. Tory and co. saw a black bear and her cubs. Steve and Dave later tried to lure said bears to our campground with bear bait. Day 2 of camping: The ride to Yellowstone the next day was sweet. Since it was only 20 miles, we all felt compelled to do 75 pushups each, before passing out next to the ranger station. What were we thinking? That night, with a little help from our friend Jim Beam, we had a rocking evening around the campfire. We LOVED Yellowstone. Only problem was, we loved Yellowstone more than Yellowstone loved us. Park rangers chided us for being slightly over the noise limit. They couldn’t see that we were only trying to scare away the bears from the campsite! Day 3 of camping: a beautiful ride through Yellowstone national park. The riders stopped to gaze at local wildlife--everything from buffalo to elk were represented. After checking out Old Faithful (which erupted 20 minutes late), some of us took a break to swim in an idyllic stream. Chad found some algae in the river and ate it. We hear it is a good source of folic acid. Is there anything we won’t eat? Probably not. That night we stayed at an RV park near the quaint town of West Yellowstone. Rice and beans made its first appearance at dinner. We celebrated Tasha’s b-day in style. Day 4 of camping: a wicked tailwind blew us into the angling village known as Ennis, MT. This left us enough time to swim in the mighty river. Jon M., feeling rather mighty himself, tried to cross the river, but nearly drowned. Nature: 1, Man: 0. Many thanks to everyone who sent us goodies for the Ennis mail drop. We always appreciate a little TLC. Day 5 of camping: Missoula, MT--home of Moose Drool beer, nectar of the gods. We stayed at a YMCA…on their lawn, that is. We just couldn’t get enough camping. Maeve, Joseph, and Jon M. watched Tour de France coverage at a sports bar. It is only a matter of time before these 3 will be cruising through the Pyrenees themselves. Dave B. put Kaitie in a compromising position while wrestling. Don’t worry Kaitie, you can beat us at basically any other sport.

The Camping saga continues in Washington. Stay tuned friends!

PS: Go Lance!

posted by: JMM and ERF

Powder River Pass Has Nothing On HBC North

We conquered the pass today in fine style. It was only made possible by the writings of Katie E. Without the jokes and words of incouragement I am not sure we would have been smiling so big at the top. After reaching the summit of over 9,600 ft., we celebrated with a huge lunch consisting of leftovers, PB&J, lots of fruit and cookies.

After lunch and naps we proceeded down the mountain. We passed an awesome sign that read, "6% Grades Next 18 Miles." OH YEA! As we flew down the Ten Sleep Canyon, we were calmed by the beauty of the area. There were steep canyon walls with a few climbers on them, a gushing river in the middle, and the occasional deer or rabbit running nearby. I think we are beginning to love these mountains!

HBC Stirs Up Trouble out West

July 4, 2005. 1:30 pm, Mountain Time Zone. Gillette, Wyoming. Bicentennial Park. Sitting on a baseball diamond. Mud caked on arms and shoulders. A strangely out of place shirtless young man with dark hair, an intense farmer’s tan, and oversized legs kneels before a large Tupperware container and takes a deep breath. The referee shouts “Go” and the man shoves his head into the murky liquid. Writhing frantically and splashing within the tub for several seconds, his head suddenly halts, jolts, and pops out of the water. The jaws separate and release the brownish, fetid mass of fleshy hoof, which arcs through the air and rolls to a halt on the clay. One down, four to go.

Although he put forth a Herculean effort, Jon Mori could not best the experienced competitors at the annual Bobbing for Pigs Feet event, the grimy highlight of the town’s 4th of July celebration. Another brave HBCer who suffered a slight eyebrow wound during his foray into the piggy waters, Brock Forsbloom, remarked, “It tasted kind of like chicken.”

So for our first day off in a while, HBC made a strong showing at the Redneck Games. In addition to getting a good deal of pigs feet stuck between some teeth, hubcaps were thrown (into a group of children… who are all ok, by the way), strongest man competitions were witnessed, and a great number of hot dogs were eaten. The HBC Tug of War team intimidated the local football boys with their wits, good looks, and expensive backpack hydration systems while the HBC cheering section boosted morale, but unfortunately the groups’ strengths remained confined to off-field shenanigans. The team had a victorious first round against the Sliders but suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of Joe’s Steakhouse and their fascist team leader. (Let’s just say that SOMEBODY takes tug of war a LITTLE too seriously…). Fortunately, the entire town rallied around the HBCers, and Joe and his Steakhouse were tarred, feathered, and ridden out on a rail. HBC was given the key to the city by the mayor and then rode Specialized Allez Sport bikes off into the sunset.

And to think… if we hadn’t heard about the free hotdogs we may never have attended. Our insatiable hunger leads us to success once again. All in all, a memorable Independence Day celebration. HBC definitely does not waste its day off. And we miss our families. Please send us money. Shout out to Victoria, who has left us to compete in the Tour de France.

- Tory and Joseph