Big Ride Updates...

41. Sandusky, OH 7/28

Today we had one last chance to savor a day off. This is Nathan, Paul's frequent riding companion. I'm filling in for Big Paul on the Big Ride journal. He got stuck with laundry duty today (thanks, Dad!), and catching up with the last several days of this journal (PHOTO: writer: please note the "fine" tan lines) while I got to spend the day fishing for walleye on Lake Erie. Let me just get this out in the open: I've only been fishing three or four times, which is to say, enough times to be eager to fish again, and few enough times to have forgotten just how boring fishing can be. When we reached camp last night, I called a local charter outfit - the SS Sawtooth Explorer - and made arrangements with Captain John for a walleye fishing excursion this morning. I made sure to explain to the good Captain that we had crossed the country by bicycle just to fish for walleye (whatever those are); so impressed was he that he generously offered free worms for our trip. A real swell guy.

Joining me on the trip were five other intrepid anglers: Jack ("can you fly fish for walleye?") Russitano, Norberto ("El Pescadero") Soto, Craig ("Fish Head") Bright, Bob ("you need to kiss that worm for good luck, Nathan") Brigham, and Adriana ("our secret weapon") Lopez. My job, as organizer of the event, was to make sure that all members of the party were comfortable and well taken care of during the voyage. I was happily distracted by this duty, which, of course, explains why I was unable to catch anything worth note. I should mention that there were also several other fishermen on the boat, all of whom looked to my novice eye to be seasoned veterans. (Indeed, several guys on the boat, including one standing right next to me, pulled in as much fish as all of our group combined. But I digress…)

After motoring out about a half mile from the marina, Cap'n John cut the motor and let the boat drift, which was, apparently, an obvious cue for us to start fishing. Feeling a bit rusty with the mechanics of casting, I asked the good Cap'n for a quick refresher course. He took the rod from me, cast it himself, and then left. His quick lesson gave me enough confidence to think that I could teach Adriana how to cast. "Reel that back in," I told her, thinking I could impart some angling advice to a novice. And reel it back in she did, with one large walleye attached! So with just one cast, we'd made our first catch, and I suspected it might be a long day for me. To summarize the rest of the voyage: we, collectively, caught about 15 walleye, a few small perch, and one catfish. I personally was able to land one massive Goby, which was about two-thirds the length of the worm, and not much larger than the hook I was using. It was, nonetheless, the largest Goby brought on board all day. I even managed to remove it from the hook myself.

At the end of the day, Craig cleaned the fish, and then, back in camp, made arrangements with the kitchen staff to prepare our catch. We'd bought sweet corn and potatoes to go along with the fish. The five guys that actually caught the fish were kind enough to share the bounty with me, and the result was the best dinner I've had in nearly two months. (PHOTO: Adrianna shares her catch with Clem Work)) And so, another wildly successful fishing trip under my belt, I shall now wait another five years for the next trip. By then I will have forgotten again that fishing is just not my thing. And tomorrow I'll return to something I'm much better at: riding my good old bike. I can't wait.

(Could this really be our last day off? Will we really make just one final push from the shores of Lake Erie through eastern Ohio, across western and central PA, through Maryland, and then, finally, on to Washington, DC? All that in just eight days? Have we already come 2,700 miles? And will our fantastic journey really end just one week from tomorrow?)

42. Sandusky to Chagrin Falls, OH 7/29 Miles 78.4 Total 2787.7

The change in the weather has got me thinking about changes occurring over the course of the ride. I know that several riders approached the journey this summer with high hopes of undergoing significant changes during the ride - they've been mining for epiphanies and solutions about large issues in their lives. This is that other "Great Divide" Dad wrote about a while back (2,000 miles ago, to be exact). Well, I've not been struck by any deep realizations about my own life, but I have noticed some remarkable changes along the way.

The geography, of course, has changed dramatically. Ever moving slowly eastward, we've seen lush evergreen forests, swift, clear mountain streams, and spectacular rocky peaks give way to rolling fields of green wheat; these turned, imperceptibly, into flat arid high plains of sage and dried creekbeds; these slipped, too, into rich, fertile fields of corn - so much corn! - and now yellow wheat fields; immense ranches have given way to modest family farms, and where we once rode from one remote small town to the next (with nothing - I mean absolutely nothing - in between), we now pass through a number of small towns in a day, each connected seamlessly by numerous houses and yards and farms. There are less truly "open" spaces as we continue east. We've moved from a purely rural landscape into a more industrial one, from areas with no development to housing developments; from areas thick with the feel of the wild west to an older, more subdued midwestern landscape. On a bicycle, one develops a very acute sense of both the size of the country and the often subtle ways in which the land changes. We've seen a beautiful slice of the country, indeed.

I've also noticed changes in the riders. The most obvious change, of course, is that we've all become so much stronger. Where 80 miles was once a significant challenge, now anything less than 90 is considered a quickie. Each night we review the next days' route and accept the new challenge without complaint. We know we will finish this ride. By and large, we are now a stronger and a skinnier group. Heck, even Dad's gone from being a skinny old bike rider to an even skinnier old bike rider with a very funny tan. --- Nathan Fairman, Big Rider #2160

43. Chagrin Falls to Canfield, OH 7/30 Miles 55.7 Total 2843.4

We are leaving the continent's interior geologic calm. As we approach Pennsylvania, we are riding on the flat solid basement rock of the nations center covered by a veneer of sediment washed down from the remains of the Appalachian's predecessor mountains. Fifty miles from the first real mountains, we are beginning a long slow incline to the hills and then, first wrinkle of mountains. If only it were just a slow incline. Instead, its glacial terrain: hills, lakes, and bogs, just like NE Indiana. We were up and down all morning. Eventually, as we rode south away from Lake Eire, the terrain was flat and a mixture of farms and industrial sites .

I am still hearing good stories about my riding companions. Marianne Farrin trained for this ride last year but was unable to complete it because of illness in her family. Now she is back, 60 years old and riding "strong". (PHOTO: Marianne)

For me, this day was all about what happened after the ride. My wife, LoAnn, drove down from her Mom's home in New Wilmington, PA to pick us up and take us there. New Wilmington is a special place. It's where I first met LoAnn ( I was 13), played softball and in the creek, learned "legal" volleyball from her Dad, took walks around the lakes, sang songs, proposed to LoAnn, married her and spent many summer vacations, holidays and happy times. New Wilmington is people we have known for years. It has been place of comfort and good times. It is a place we love. It feels a lot like home.

44. Canfield to Indiana, PA 7/31 Miles 105.6 Total 2949

This day offered us al little bit of everything. Today was like a potluck supper. There were lots of offerings, many were wonderful, but some of them were not expected, or wanted. The best "dishes" were the satisfaction of meeting all the challenges on the climb, the wonderful panoramic views from the ridges, the thrill of some fabulous downhill plunges like the one into Kittaning and the pleasure of a cold chocolate malt at the DQ at the top of the climb out of Kittaning. Other "pots" held rough pavement, narrow shoulders, heavy traffic, trucks, noise, hills, heat, thunder, lightening, rain, downpours, and chills in a 12 hour marathon on the road. The storm was the worst. The first thunder rolled over the DQ as we finished our mountain climbing "rewards", but it was the lightening flash and simultaneous "crack" that got our attention. The rain was right behind; we stayed in the shelter of the overhang outside waiting for the rain to end until repeated flashes sent us inside and an eventual second "snack" and short nap. The rain never really stopped although there were some brief breaks in the intensity. During one we were able to move down the road another 10 miles, until the lightning chased us to the shelter of an overhang at a dentist's closed office. During a brief break, Nathan managed to find a strombolli at the grocery across the street. And still it rained. Eventually, we had to ride in the rain, a "dish" that I did not want to sample.

Clem Kynerd is 21 and hopes to go to medical School. He has been attending junior college at home in Mississippi after completing his mission experience with the Mormon Church. Here he is waiting for the rain to end.

--- Paul Fairman, Big Rider #2152.
< pfairman@earthlink.net>

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