tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49716958457612952682024-02-18T22:49:28.183-08:00Cross America on a Bamboo bikeרכיבה מחוף אל חוף בארה"ב על אופני הבמבוק שליDuboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-6916596961231209272017-10-31T19:47:00.001-07:002021-04-09T07:47:31.461-07:00<div dir="rtl" style="text-align: right;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">my trip is complete</span><br />
<a href="https://new.spotwalla.com/trip/d3a0-78bae-25f4/view" style="font-size: xx-large;" target="_blank"> Press to see the trail on a map</a><br />
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<a href="https://new.spotwalla.com/trip/d3a0-78bae-25f4/view" target="_blank">סיימתי את המסע</a><br />
<a href="https://new.spotwalla.com/trip/d3a0-78bae-25f4/view" target="_blank"> ניתן ללחוץ כאן לצפיה במסלול על גבי מפה </a><br />
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<a href="https://goo.gl/photos/rQJLR78MkWpz4aUj7" target="_blank">לצפייה בתמונות מהמסע</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/photos/rQJLR78MkWpz4aUj7" target="_blank">View all photos</a></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^</span></div>
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Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-38206637644849848722017-09-23T04:15:00.000-07:002017-09-23T04:15:02.005-07:00Final thoughts and statistics - last post of this blogFirst, thank you for following this blog. I had a great time cycling across North America, and having you follow my blog was a motivational boost. So, thanks again.<br />
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You can view the pictures from this amazing trip if you <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/rQJLR78MkWpz4aUj7" target="_blank">Press here for Album</a>.<br />
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<h4>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The trip:</span></b></h4>
The journey began on May 6th in San Diego, California, with a stop at the hiking store to purchase clothing and equipment needed for the trip. This included two coats (for warmth and for protection from the rain), long thermal pants, a tent, a sleeping bag, and a sleeping pad. These were tested instantly as the rain began that day less than an hour after I left the store and lasted for three days.<br />
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I headed up to Big Bear and down to Santa Monica, up the coastal road and headed up to the Sequoia national park. From there down to Fresno and up to the magnificent Yosemite national park. Then to Sacramento to get new tires and a new chain. Headed up to Cascades in Oregon and finally got to the Columbia river where I headed east from Washington State on the Lewis and Clark trail. On this trail, I crossed the Rockies from Idaho to Montana.<br />
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I headed from Montana to Yellowstone and crossed the vast and practically empty state of Wyoming. This was the toughest section that needed most the survival skills a cross country cyclist should have. Not only is there hardly a population to rely on, but this emptiness means less water and food are available along the way. Rather than 3 liters (3 quarts) of water, I carried double that amount, more food than usual, but the toughest part was the heat. Upper 90's F (upper 30's C) and no trees to take refuge in their shade. These were a few difficult days until I reached Devil's Tower.<br />
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But then the weather changed. I arrived in South Dakota fleeing the thunderstorm which hit just as I reached town. It got hotter and drier again until I reached the middle of Nebraska. Then, another storm changed the weather for the rest of the trip. Most days were cool enough for me to cycle without getting too hot.<br />
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The Midwest is flat, for the most part, and beautiful. The corn fields of Iowa reminded me of the home away from home that I had back in the 1980's when I spent three years as a student in the Quad Cites. Visiting my host from those days and my good friend from college made this portion very special.<br />
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Illinois and Indiana made cycling safe for me. Both have cycling trails that took me from the Mississippi to Lake Michigan practically all the way off-road. The canals of past, where horses used to pull the boats through a set of locks, have been transformed to cycling trails. They are well maintained most of the way and offer a great cycling experience for days in a row.<br />
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Once reaching Michigan, the whole culture and feel changed. People jog and cycle, the food portions are smaller in the restaurants and there is a selection of food types rather than the fried food that is all one can find in the Midwest. <br />
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And then it was Canada. It seems that Michigan took a look in one direction, saw the Midwest, looked in the other direction, saw Canada, and decided to go the Canadian way. Canada is extra polite and clean. It has more food options. It is multicultural even before reaching Toronto.<br />
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For me, Toronto was very special. I spent a few days with my partner, who was there for a sabbatical.<br />
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Heading back towards the United States on the Loyalist parkway, one sees the documentation of the history of Canada with regard to its enemy of the past, the U.S.A. I saw similar, but with a reverse attitude, documentation on the other side.<br />
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Once reaching upstate New York the entire atmosphere changed again. Back to the U.S. problems with regard to their politics and way of life. I was back in Trumpland. This lasted for just a short while.<br />
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Vermont and New Hampshire are quiet and charming. I cycled through the forests that were starting to turn red and orange and was on off-road country trails. The trails leading to the White Forest National Park were probably the best cycling I had despite the fact that they are not in very high mountains. I loved the uphill in California, hundreds of meters (thousands of feet) a day which Vermont and New Hampshire do not have, but these trails were somewhat technical, lots of dirt paths and had romantic old towns along the way.<br />
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It rained on me for a few days until I hit the peak of the White Mountain National Forest. It was all downhill towards the Atlantic Ocean from that point. I started to feel the excitement building up.<br />
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I was almost there. Soon after the peak, I reached the point where the Appalachian trail crossed the road I was cycling and pushed on. The first night arrived. It was difficult to find a place to pitch my tent, but luckily I found a campground. Got up the next day and got closer by the minute to the ocean. Finally, Portland. I crossed the city and reached the shore. My mission was complete.<br />
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All that remained now was to get to Logan airport some 200 km away within five days. So I took my time cycling down the coast from Maine through New Hampshire to Massachusetts. The seafood is fresh and tasty. The boats in the harbors are picturesque, the air is clear and I was in "I have done it!!!!" mode.<br />
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Packed my bicycle at the entrance to the airport terminal. This was the final spot of my trip.<br />
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<h4>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">People:</span></b></h4>
But all that is not the main part of this trip. The main part was the people I met. Other cyclists, local townspeople, farmers, fire fighters, waiters, bartenders, motel receptionists. Goodhearted, hospitable and generous people who made me feel welcome in America.<br />
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There are scores of examples over the four and a bit months that I was cycling through the U.S. and Canada. Not all can be published for this will be practically an endless blog entry, so I will list only a few.<br />
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I think the most unexpected interaction was with the young woman who I managed, at least for a while, to stop from committing suicide: <a href="http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/06/a-sad-story.html">http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/06/a-sad-story.html</a><br />
I know it is possible that she tried again sometime later, but for that moment, she was safe.<br />
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My plan for the trip was to meet Americans (Canada was not part of the original plan and I found that they are more reserved than Americans, so I am focusing on the latter). I wanted to meet people and talk to them. All one gets to see from abroad are TV shows, movies, the news and visitors from America. I spent three years in the 80's in Iowa in a college atmosphere which even then did not represent America. I felt that I do not know enough about Americans and that I have to meet them face to face, talk with them, share a coffee or a beer, ask them tough questions and answer a few myself.<br />
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First day of the trip, I have just left the store where I have purchased my rainproof goods including an expensive coat. I am cycling uphill, as I will be doing for the next few days, and rain decides to give me an opportunity to test the coat. I am at a stoplight waiting for it to change so I can find a safe place to take the coat out of the designated bag and put it on. A driver rolls down his window and starts asking me about my bike and my trip. We pull over at the drive-through bank for shelter and we begin talking. This was a good sign, I felt, for the future of this trip. All I could tell him is that I have this plan to cross the U.S. He, a cyclist himself, told me about the cycling opportunities in the area. I was not ready to make changes in my plan, but understood that the locals are a good source of information.<br />
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The next day, I understood that firefighters are much more than what the title holds. They are the information source for everything outdoors. They know the forests like they know the back of their hands. It continued to rain all day and I needed a place to pitch my tent for the night. The locals at the diner told me to ask the firefighters for a safe place since there were no motels or campgrounds in the area. The firefighter I spoke with sent me to 'the old highway' (a concept that runs throughout America). There is a section on this highway that is completely blocked for traffic. "Just cross over into that section and you'll be safe from traffic and no one will bother you there".<br />
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I was heading into Idylwild park, California, and saw a building. It looked that it could be, perhaps, a restaurant. Lights were on and a few cars were parked outside. I open the door. I turns out that this was a bible study group. After I apologize, they point out that behind this building there is a whole town with restaurants and motels, so I will be able to find refuge from this cold night. As I walk out, Bill follows me and tells me that he is a Warmshowers host, and that I am welcome to stay with him.<br />
While cycling to his home another person stops his car and asks me if I need any help. He is the owner of the local bike store. Endless kindness.<br />
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As the days passed, I found myself being stopped by people who want to help. Just like that. While in Washington State, on a very hot day, a woman pulls over. She's on her way to go fishing and has a cooler full of soda. She offered me one. Mountain Dew is not my favorite, but on this day, it was the best soda I ever had.<br />
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This day in Montana <a href="http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/07/on-my-way-to-yellowstone.html">http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/07/on-my-way-to-yellowstone.html</a>, is a perfect example of how Americans feel about an Israeli visiting them and how hospitable they are. Not only do they refuse my money because I am an Israeli guest to their country but they also host me in their home just for having an interesting story to tell. Amazing.<br />
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I had people offer me money (which I had to refuse), pay for my meals (which I found out only when they were long gone) and open their homes to me.<br />
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The Christians wanted to understand how come I am a Jew but don't believe in a god and what do I feel about Jesus.The Republicans wanted to know what Israelis think about Trump. First, I had to explain, Israelis do not thing En Bloc. We have 8 million people and 10 million opinions. Discussions on both topics made me understand that despite having different opinions than I have, these are good people. They want a better world. They are willing to help, they are kind and welcoming. I knew that with these people I was not alone on my trip in America.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Statistics:</span></b><br />
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San Diego airport to Logan airport:<br />
9,665 km / 6,040 miles<br />
67,958 meters / 224,284 feet accumulated ascent.<br />
Total Trip time: 4 months and -9 days<br />
Net Trip time (excluding flight time and long breaks): 3 months and 24 days.<br />
On average cycling hours per day (including breaks) : 10 hours.<br />
Average cycling distance per day (when cycling full days): 84 km / 52.5 miles<br />
<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Equipment:</span></h4>
Bamboo bike: 29" all-terrain bike, hard tail which I built in Toronto five years ago.<br />
Helmet.<br />
Dynamo hub on front wheel to generate electricity to charge phone and flashlights.<br />
Bike packs in a bike-packing format.<br />
Tools and spare parts for the bicycle.<br />
Navigation and tracking equipment.<br />
Flashlight.<br />
Smartphone (for Google maps, detailed information and communication)<br />
First-aid kit.<br />
Raincoat, down jacket and thermal pants.<br />
Sleeping bag, sleeping pad and a tent.<br />
One pair of shorts and one t-shirt and a couple of pairs of underwear.<br />
One set of extra cycling shorts and cycling shirt.<br />
Socks (6 pairs).<br />
Towel and washing gear.<br />
Sandals<br />
Backpack with an hydration pack and food rations for a day and a half (e.g. cans of tuna, tortillas and snack bars).<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-7234744357444017272017-09-15T09:41:00.002-07:002017-09-15T09:41:21.169-07:00Maine and the Atlantic coastOnce I hit the high point in New Hampshire, all that was left to do, was to get to the coast at Portland, Maine. That should have been easy. The rain has stopped, it is all down hill, only that it was not that easy. But first things first.<br />
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The towns along the way have a charm that New Hampshire knows how to boast.<br />
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Suddenly, this huge red dump truck honks at me followed by the driver calling out my name (here is the report as published on facebook:<br />
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<i>Back in the 1980's I met the Goddard family in Israel. They were there, building Uvda air field as part of the peace process between Israel and Egypt. They had me over for three months on my way to college in Iowa.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I hoped to see Bill Goddard and Cindy Goddard Snow, but that did not work out. I also planned to contact Bob Goddard and he suggested he'd drive over to a location near his home when I think I am close enough. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Cycling today, in New Hampshire, I think it was the town of Glen, I hear a lorry (dump truck), honking and the driver yelling at me. I thought he was trying to warn me about something. I didn't feel or see anything wrong but he was persistent. Then I heard "DAVID, DAVID". It was Bobby, yes Bob Goddard!!!!</i><br />
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<i>I did not recognize him at first. Out of context, I guess. "It is Bob". Boom! Other than a beard, he has not changed. Bob was always a man who works with his hands and operates equipment. So it was no surprise to see him on this truck. </i><br />
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<i>He recognized me by my bicycle. He saw pictures and put one and one together.</i><br />
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<i>We spoke for a few minutes. He had to get back to work.</i><br />
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With this as the 'high' of the day, I push on, starting to seek for a place to sleep.<br />
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I cross over to Maine:<br />
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It took a few extra hours, but finally I found a campground.<br />
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The next day, I reached Portland and the Atlantic ocean:<br />
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AND THAT WAS IT. THAT WAS THE MOMENT I FELT THAT MY MISSION HAS BEEN COMPLETED.<br />
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It was now just a matter of time and a couple of hundred kilometers to the airport.<br />
I had to slow down since my flight was booked for November 14th. I did get to see the beautiful Atlantic coast and its charming towns. I knew that "it ain't over 'till it's over", but still it felt different from everything that came to be prior to that point.<br />
There will be one more post, once I get home, summarizing this amazing trip and major event in my life.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-16872011188294209132017-09-10T07:23:00.000-07:002017-09-10T07:23:51.707-07:00Vermont and New HampshireThese two beautiful states gave me some of the best cycling adventure on this trip.<br />
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I crossed over from New York to Vermont by ferry to the very peaceful Grand Isle. Cyclists everywhere. Crossing this island calmed me down (see NY post). As I reached the southern tip of the island, knowing that I am about to catch another ferry, I was surprised to find that it is a special one.<br />
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There is a bike trail going from the island to the mainland with a short break to let the marine traffic some room to cross. Hence the ferry.<br />
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The next thing I run into is the Cross Vermont trail. It started on the road, but soon lead me onto a 100km off road trail with single paths (narrow paths that allow for one bicycle at a time) and double paths. The second day it rained which added to the excitement as the roots of the trees became slippery, so one needs to use one's technical abilities to overcome the obstacles.<br />
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Along the way, the initial signs of fall are to be seen. Red and orange leaves on some trees and on the path.<br />
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Without any change in scenery, I slide into New Hampshire. The continuation of the trail, once a train railway, takes me higher into the White Mountain National Forest. The entire climb, spanning over two days, it rained. A few times the rain was too heavy, forcing me to take refuge (in diners....). This was a wonderful experience. Just the thought of cycling the whole day in rain made me happy.<br />
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Finally, I reached the the high point. It is not an impressive height, such as Big Bear, the Rockies or Big horn, but it was the highest point on the eastern section of my trip, 580 meters / 1900 ft, the last uphill and the beginning of the end of my trip.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-1080001279677976972017-09-10T06:22:00.002-07:002017-09-10T06:25:11.740-07:00Back to u.s.a.: upstate new york.I noticed instantly that Canada is behind me. Trumpland was back:<br />
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It is not that so much what they say, it is the aggressive and hateful way it is said. I think the era of democracy, world wide, is on the decline. Once the others, those who disagree with you, are free game, the end of freedom of speech and thought is near and they are no longer relevant.<br />
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So, pretty as it may be, only in America you can see a store, in the middle of nowhere upstate New York that has this for a name:<br />
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Guns and Guitars (and food) all at a gas station. I guess Papa goes to the gun section and son and daughter check out the music department. Or maybe hippie mum and dad go for a new guitar while baby signs up for an NRA membership. Who knows.<br />
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That was upstate New York as I saw it. I hope I just saw one side of it.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-89093535151375742782017-09-03T08:57:00.001-07:002017-09-03T10:32:22.250-07:00Leaving Canda: Two different goodbyes.It was not easy to leave my partner (Bat Zug) behind. I came to Toronto, and Canada for that matter, just to be with her. So leaving was not easy. Once I left, I cycled on the north shores of Lake Ontario for three days on my way to New York state.<br />
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I spent the first night in Oshawa in a run down motel, I think the only one there. The town did not have a happy feel to it either. I guess it was a reflection of my feelings.<br />
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But then came the next day! It was an uneventful. I did not meet anyone along the way and the scenery was no different than that of the previous day, so I was focused on cycling.<br />
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It was getting cool and I started looking for a place to stay at. I saw a b&b sign which I <span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">started to follow. After a few hundred meters, in the town of Coburg I saw a large sign 'Bed and Breakfast'. The owner asked for </span><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">120 Canadian dollars. The place was messy. Not what I wanted at all. So, I continue; perhaps I will find another place. But as I cycle on, I see the same b&b sign again which gives me new hope. I get to the town of Grafton. There is a Guest House but it is full. I have been following this sign for 15 kilometers so far, so a few more, I figure, wont hurt. I keep on riding, the sign appears again and restores my hope for a warm bed. Suddenly, the sign points to the right towards the lake, the road winds and in my mind I am hoping that the b&b still exists and if it does, will there be a vacancy. 25 kilometers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knocked on the door. A couple, Lawrence, in his 80's, and Frances who own the place, invited me in. They have two parts for visitors in the huge villa. One, a fancy b&b in the basement, and the second part, a shared room, designed for groups such as cyclists, with 7 beds, a shower and toilet. I'm the only occupant in that section.</span><br />
First question they asked was if I had anything to eat. So they took out two hamburgers, which we prepared on the grill and I had a nice beer to go along with the butgers. As I waited for the burgers to cook, the guests from the b&b section Andei and Gigi, French Canadians from Montreal, join us on the lawn with a bottle of wine. Nice red wine.
The next morning, I met Gigi's mother who speaks very little English, so I had a chance to practice my French.<span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">It felt as this is my formal farewell breakfast.</span><br />
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The next day, I found myself on the Loyalist Parkway. The history and the feel I got, was that some people would still be happy to have a closer link to the United Kingdom.</div>
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Then, I took a couple of ferries and it was "goodbye Canada".</div>
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Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-78987785387573734642017-08-24T17:33:00.001-07:002017-08-24T17:33:23.438-07:00Canada (and funny signs)Crossed over to Canada on a ferry! Another first on this trip.<br />
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I don't know why, but I just love silly signs.<br />
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I realize that Canada too is an agricultural country. Well, at least Ontario is. I just enjoy seeing the fields of corn and the barns.<br />
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The history unfolds. The Quakers who settled the land where apparently pro Empire. The British Empire. Canada is still a part of the Commonwealth and their money still has the Queen on it. Names of towns are from the old country and names of streets have Lord this and Sir that.<br />
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I like the fact that on many streets old or abandoned bicycles are transformed into objects of beauty for ornamentation.<br />
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I see funny sides in what the locals see as normal. The following sign tells drivers that, when snowing, roads can get icy and one needs to take care. This reminds me of the signs in the U.S. The locals just shoot the signs and they get to look just like this one.<br />
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And what is this? Doesn't anyone check the font size?<br />
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OK, back to cycling. These fellas just don't care. I cycled right by them. I guess they are used to people.<br />
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And finally I reached Lake Ontario and Toronto.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-42521044841742909372017-08-24T12:55:00.001-07:002018-07-02T00:10:12.198-07:00Jews and Christians in the U.S.A."Jesus Loves You" This is the statement I need to address here.<br />
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Being an Israeli, a Jew, cycling through the United States, primarily in the rural areas, including the Bible Belt, the discussion with people I meet along the way often gets to the "So how come you are a Jew if you don't believe in God"? We'll get back to this one soon.<br />
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Jews, those who observe the religion, have this custom that when they travel away from home, they are often hosted at other Jews' homes. This custom helps those who eat Kosher food to feel comfortable during their vacation and that they are eating food that will not compromise their beliefs. So it came as a surprise to me, since it is known to my friends that I am not observant, that my friend Cara suggested I stay with friends of hers in Ann Arbor. I thought that is could be yet another type of experience for me, so arrived at Ruth and Michael's home in the afternoon. They had a few guests over, so it was easy for me to mingle within a group of people. They were discussing the Charlotteville march aftermath and were surprised to hear that my experience has been very good in regard to meeting non Jews along the way.<br />
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My host Michael:<br />
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The next day, I met this wonderful Christian couple Rosemarie and Michael. These were probably the most knowledgeable couple on Judaism that I have met to date. They knew their Old Testament as well as the New one, they have visited Israel, and yes they love both Israel and Jews. For them, all that is going on in the world is part of God's plan, yet they were open to hear my views. We spent, I guess, an hour just talking about our different approaches to bringing good-will to our societies. They were amused, naturally, that my last name is Emanuel.... All this came to be just because I asked if they knew of a motel near by since it looked like it was about to rain. Nice folk.</div>
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So back to the discussion... A Jew is a member of the tribe of Judea, one of those twelve tribes of Israel. This tribe, including an eleventh of the Levi tribe, is the only survivor of the biblical era. The Israelites, now down to the Jewish tribe, have a religion. One can be a member of the tribe without following the religion. One can join the religion and automatically become a member (Ruth the Moabitan joined and became the grand mother of King David. Moses had a wife from Kush. Stories in the Old Testament have a reason for being there).</div>
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One aspect of being a Jew, if one follows the religion, is that the Messiah is yet to come; he has never arrived. Hence, the question of Jesus being the Messiah is irrelevant. To me, Jesus cannot be the son of God since there is none. </div>
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So, does Jesus still love me?</div>
Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-62814038110966831612017-08-17T05:30:00.000-07:002017-08-17T06:05:30.109-07:00MichiganSo Matt and I, arrive at a small motel on the outskirts of New Buffalo. Brit, the owner, greets us, gave us each a beer, and we start talking about differences between the metric and imperial systems. It came about because both Matt, who is from China, and I think in metric. Brit was one of those in favor if the metric system. The car industry, for instance, has a huge expense due to the fact that they need two sets of tools.<br />
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Being far from the restaurants, Matt and I ordered pizza and chicken wings. This is my chance to get some information from him. He is 26 years old, our way of counting, or 27 in the Chinese system. In china one's age is counted from the beginning of the year, so when born you are "one". We count the age at the end of the year.<br />
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China, according to Matt, is a democracy but not liberal. One gets to vote, and there is more than one candidate, but the results are known in advance....I think we have different a interpretation for the word democracy.<br />
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We moved on to personal questions. He spent some three years in England. He recalled his experience to be a more rough environment than what he was used to back home. Later, he moved to the U.S., as legal alien (his words), and has studied philosophy.<br />
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He does not know yet if he will move back to China or not. This depends, also, on his girl friend.<br />
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The next day, I headed towards Ann Arbor (a two day ride). Along the way I got to a nice bike trail. At the trail head and along the way there are air pumps. I was suffering from an air leak in my tubeless tire. Instead of stopping and inserting a tube, I stopped every so often to pump air into it.<br />
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A local cyclist, Michael, was very helpful in finding on his phone the bike stores in Jackson, a big city just 10 miles ahead.<br />
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Hmmmmm<br />
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Well, the guys at the bike store, On Two Wheels, did a great job. But it is more than just being good bicycle mechanics. They ran out of tubeless tires. So they stripped one off a new bicycle from the display floor and installed it on my wheel. Service!!<br />
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So thank you Pat, Jeff, Frank and Adam for taking care of me and my bicycle. Professionals and gentlemen.<br />
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All I can say is<br />
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Oh, yes, and what does this mean? Rebels?<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-75117577896949045142017-08-15T03:40:00.000-07:002017-08-15T03:40:50.481-07:00Zooming through Illinois and IndianaIt took me three days to get from one side of Illinois to the other with hardly any time on a highway. So far, this state had the best bicycle paths since the beginning of my trip. Some where on gravel, some on paved trails, some single path (width suitable for one bicycle) some double width paths.<br />
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It started with a trail alongside the Mississippi and then on the banks of a series of canals beginning just outside Moline (on the Illinois side of the Quad Cities) all the way, with minor interruptions using local town roads, all the way to Indiana.<br />
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The first day, rainstorms were predicted. I made it to the shelter of the state park near Wyanet in time to avoid the storm.<br />
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Just before arriving to Hobart, Indiana, I met Matt, a cyclist from Chicago, originally from Shanghai, who was on his first day of a week's touring cycle around lake Michigan. He continued on the trail while I headed for food.<br />
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With it's old fashioned movie theater, its pride in Lafayette and their good food, Hobart was the first sign of changes to come.<br />
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I was making my way to Michigan, yet still in Indiana. The trail ran alongside a nice, warm watered lake. I took a break for swimming. Glorious!<br />
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I reached lake Michigan and ran into Matt again. We cycled together and crossed over to Michigan. More about this interesting young man in my next post.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-2311086022189750522017-08-15T02:52:00.000-07:002017-08-15T02:52:25.987-07:00The MississippiI ended my visit to Iowa with my friend Ed and his partner Terry. They took me on their boat on the river. We went out to Clinton for a nice meal and back again to the Quad Cities.<br />
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Along the river banks there are a few towns and beaches (onto which sand taken from sand pits along the river is poured). One town was established by Dutch pilgrims who brought their windmill with them from Holland.<br />
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On the way back, the water was choppy. We bounced up and down over the waves (created by wind and current). I enjoyed that part of the ride the most.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-85195798162365133942017-08-08T07:07:00.001-07:002017-08-08T07:07:39.631-07:00IowaAlthough there is not much to say about it, Iowa is a special place for me. I spent three years here from 1982 to 1985 as a student. I have dear friends here with whom I have been spending the past two days and will see them the next two days too.<br />
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So when I left Omaha and headed into Iowa, there was this familiar feeling as if I was back home. The countryside, the farms and barns, the corn.<br />
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One cannot ignore the corn in Iowa. It is everywhere<br />
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But Iowa is not only corn. I love the barns too. They have a special feeling to them.<br />
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And also the birth place of John Wayne, Winterset.<br />
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This feeling of being welcome was enhanced when I got to <a href="http://duboocrossusa.blogspot.co.il/2017/08/delta-iowa.html" target="_blank">Delta</a> (my previous post). And from Delta I was racing to get to the Quad Cities. I found another 'Rails To Trails' trail<br />
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and finally got to the Quad Cities:</div>
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First stop was Ed. He has been my close friend for some 35 years! It was so nice to see him and Terry in their beautiful home. The following evening they hosted me for dinner. It was an Iowa dinner. Steak, baked potato and corn. </div>
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Terry and Ed</div>
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I then got home! Yes, my home for three years at my host and dear friend John. </div>
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My bedroom that has remained exactly as I left it 32 years ago:</div>
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John loves his cars. He has had a number of sports cars and now he has a thunderbird. So here it is:</div>
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More on this visit once I am back on the saddle.</div>
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Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-46108018343621532482017-08-05T18:38:00.000-07:002017-08-08T07:12:54.570-07:00Delta, Iowa.This post was supposed to be about Iowa. That will have to wait for my next entry since I had an exciting evening I'd like to share with you<br />
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I never know for sure at the beginning of the day where I will end up at the end of it. Typically, I look at the map, try and find a town or campground at the distance that I think I will ride that day and often make adjustments along the way. I try and find a place that has a diner or a bar / grill-house or at least a store so I can get food.<br />
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On google maps, Delta has the <b>Neighbors' gas & grill.</b> So, I gave it a chance.<br />
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I got there just before 6:00 p.m. From where I cycled in, all I could see was the sign and the pumps, but when I turned the corner, the front of the grill / diner was fenced off and preparations for the summer music Jam where in progress. I lucked out! Not only will I get food, but I will have music to sooth my soul.<br />
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After I had my food, which was both good and filling, Amie, who happens to be one of the owners and organizers of the special evening, joins me at my table. She is also a reporter for a local newspaper. Once the interview about my tour is published, I will link it into my blog too.<br />
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Once the interview was over, we stepped outside waiting for the music.<br />
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Meantime, Rebeka comes over. "Are you from Israel?... And do you accept Jesus as your savior?" Later on in our discussion I told her that if I would have said: "Yes, doesn't everyone?" then we wouldn't have had the interesting discussion that ensued.<br />
We, naturally, did not try to convince nor expected to come to an agreement on the topic. Was interesting.<br />
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The music had begun. The audience and the band were of all ages. I heard a few grownups talk to their parents on one hand and then have another conversation with their children. Everyone knew everyone, I guess, except me. That is until Amie introduced me to everyone using the band's microphone... Americans appreciate those who have served, veterans, so although not in their service, I was honored by them, regardless, for the fact that I served my country.<br />
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I cannot relay the warm feelings I have to this kind and hospitable community, so pictures of them, and some of their music will have to do.<br />
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Thank you Delta!!<br />
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Video may take a few minutes to load...</div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/dIgkR2JXI-o" target="_blank">Or press this link to view on youtube</a></div>
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-56993325830542260932017-07-30T14:27:00.001-07:002017-07-30T15:00:58.048-07:00The Missouri (also part 2)I saw the Missouri river for the first time in Montana. It starts at Three Forks, a small town, runs north, then north east and then heads south through the Dakotas and forms the line between Iowa and Nebraska. It used to be surrounded by wetlands, but they were dried by the settlers in this region and transformed into towns and farm land.<br />
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I was cycling along the Missouri trail and ran into Rich, a local cyclist, who told me a little about the history of the river. He explained that the river has changed its course an so it seems as if Iowa invaded Nebraska, but in fact, the town Crater Lake which is east of the lake but west of the river, was once on the west side of the river when Crater lake was part of the river. Weird.<br />
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So I was in Iowa for a short while and got back to Nebraska into Omaha.<br />
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Next door to my b&b (actually, only B) this guy's father had this 1928 model T that he started to restore but died before completion. So the neighbor is going to try too. He just got it back from storage and I helped him, with two others, push it onto his backyard.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-3033392461304063922017-07-30T13:00:00.000-07:002017-07-30T13:00:11.533-07:00Nebraska, part 2.There is not much to tell about Nebraska. I crossed to central time zone and that was probably the sign for trees to pop up.<br />
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There is a project "Rails to trails" which originally I was thinking to take back in Washington State but plans changed. Here in Nebraska the project took an old rail and transformed it into a trail open also to cyclists.<br />
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I like the fact that every trail I saw along the way, including this one, have out houses scattered along the way.<br />
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I met a young couple, in their twenties Casey and Mattie. It was interesting to hear a younger generation's outlook on what's going on in the U.S.<br />
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The trail itself, The Cowboy Trail, is a great idea since it keeps one off the highway. However, pouring loose gravel on many sections makes it hard to use. So I used the highway on and off. But, I got to met Ray, on a cross country from Seattle to D.C. We spent a couple of days running into each other and set up camp together.<br />
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Ray mentioned something about getting water from the windmill while I was getting water from the hydrants. It turns out that the wells in Nebraska are sitting on top of a major aquifer. The water for the farmers here is free. The cost are the pumps and sprinkler systems that use fuel, gas or electricity. The windmills use the wind to crank the pump. So the hydrants I was using have an electric pump (and found in campgrounds, gardens and parks) while the windmills are in the grazing areas typically for the cows.<br />
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While Ray continued on, I was 'held back' by a nice group who invited me to join them tubing. It was a Sunday. Unlike the freezing water in the mountains, spring water is cold, but bearable. So we tubed and a few drinks. They went home, I set up camp.<br />
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I keep forgetting that I am in farmer-land...<br />
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And the bible belt<br />
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And in hunter's land too. I stopped for food at a small dinner. Just the owners and me. He's back in the kitchen preparing my meal while she is telling me all about the new bow she got from her father. It is the new type, with a set of rollers which reduce the amount of power one needs to pull on the sting from 40lbs to 20lb. She hunts deer. I will no go into the details. This is what I think a bow and arrow should face.<br />
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I am headed to Omaha. The road is pretty.<br />
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But, it is time to rest. I found an hotel that has room names instead of numbers. I'm in the<br />
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Across the hall is the Sundance Kid, John Wayne, Billy the kid and others.<br />
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Next morning headed to the Missouri.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-65735298954411534382017-07-25T20:26:00.001-07:002017-07-25T20:33:49.957-07:00Mount Rushmore, leaving South Dakota and entering Nebraska part 1.I left Hill City towards Mount Rushmore. I am on the last stretch of mountains for a long time. Up one mountain and down again, one more and so on. Then, the site itself.<br />
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It took a couple of hours before I saw the "Foot hills ranch" to realize that after 2.5 months of mountains, and some flat areas, but mostly mountains, I am now heading to 'flatland'.<br />
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I was planning to go east via the Pine Ridge reservation, but was warned not to because there is only one store along the way and I may not find water for dozens of miles. So I headed south.<br />
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Since I was on a highway, I decided to camp within a small town, Buffalo Gap (pop. 180). Typically, such small towns in South Dakota are lucky to have a store. This place has a pub. It was about 8:00 p.m. closing at 9:00 p.m. I ordered a Pizza which I shared with a young farmer, one of three customers at the pub other than me. He, as all ranch workers, does any type of job on the ranch. Fixing fences, branding cows (ouch), fixing equipment and whatever needs done.<br />
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So the publican is making singes that it is almost 9:00 p.m., but to his dismay, perhaps, the newly wed mayor (one of the local carpenters) and his wife drive up to the pub. She was raised here and left years ago while he moved a few years ago from Oregon to this small town since Oregon was to noisy....go figure. One one of her visits they met and she left no more. Romantic. He talks about turning the place around and making it as exciting as it used to be years ago. I got his permission to use the community center's lawn for setting up my camp. Lights went off at 10:00 p.m. we were essentially kicked out.<br />
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The rest of the way south towards Nebraska, and then in Nebraska was hilly and easy to ride.<br />
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As one can see, it is mostly flat and nothing significant to see. The second photo bellow was taken just after the first one. It got me thinking about how different we claim that we treat animals. PC or a real change?<br />
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More about Nebraska soon.....<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-1347228028237388792017-07-18T09:05:00.001-07:002017-07-18T09:05:08.702-07:00Hill City, South DakotaThe name fits. I cycled in from Wyoming mostly uphill and about half the distance on a dirt road. The downhill portion turned out to be hills. Not a real downhill experience for a cyclist...<br />
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But I am running ahead of myself. The night before, I found a field outside an abandoned home on the corner of a highway and a country road. The sky was covered with black clouds, lightning and thunder all around. I got into my tent and waited. The wind picked up and the tent walls were being tested by the gales. I woke up a couple of hours later. Complete silence. A daunting silence. But there was no rain and the clouds were blown away.<br />
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Next morning I headed to Hill City. The clouds followed me, I guess. I made it to Dan's Harney Park Inn. Dan had no vacancy but is such an hospitable gentleman. While he was finding me an alternative and then going to pick up Angela, I sat and talked to this charming couple, Julié and Cameron. Both Greek Orthodox (see Julié, God does work in mysterious ways...- an inside joke). We discussed their beleifs and my non beleifs. I felt as if I have known them forever. It was comfortable as being with old friends.<br />
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Then I had a flat tire... All pitched in to help me fix it. I had a good night's sleep.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-37281329012403103042017-07-16T15:39:00.001-07:002017-07-16T15:46:13.326-07:00Locals and AliensI arrived at Trudy's Big Horn motel in Buffalo. We had a nice talk the next morning.<br />
The evening of my arrival, Bob and Jim stopped me and we talked about education. It covered guns and bikes and games we played when we where young.<br />
When we got to the part about my trip they asked of I am going to Devil's Tower. Oops....I checked my route and realized I am passing right by it.<br />
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The next day, while talking to Trudy about her children, my daughters, medical insurance, college cost and so forth, this ex military man joins. The conversation is politics now. He personally knows Benny Gantz (our current chief of staff ?).<br />
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Friendly hug with Trudy and on my way I go. Heading to Spotted Horse. An historic saloon, est. 1824. Two people live there and run this run down place. I got there at 9:30 p.m. so it was closed. I set up my tent and called it a day. The next day I got up walked into the saloon just to find out that it was left open since the night before...They just don't lock up. When the owner finally got there I realized that mo food will be served before noon, so I grabbed a drink and headed on.<br />
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The heat slowed me down. I had to stop somewhere but there was nothing for miles. Got to a private ranch and asked for permission to rest in the shade of their trees. "Sure", the couple agree, "and there is a hydrant you can use to fill water". I thanked them and as I started to rest under the trees I saw them drive off. People in Wyoming are trustful.<br />
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Made it to Devil's Tower, yep, the one Richard Dreyfuss makes a model of using the mashed potatoes....<br />
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This time the aliens are us, an Israeli family from kibbutz Be'eri, Noga, Izzi and their three children and me. Izzi knew about my trip via Erez Manor (La'Medavesh cycling center of the kibbutz).<br />
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Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-77499375314168892072017-07-12T22:17:00.000-07:002017-07-12T22:18:21.293-07:00Cody to BuffaloAs I was leaving Yellowstone, it became evident of whom Wyoming is proud of:<br />
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And soon after what they are all about<br />
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Bill Cody, aka Buffalo Bill, is everywhere. A population of 500,000 in one of the larger of the U.S. states needs a hero, I guess.<br />
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So I began the descent from the Rockies towards Cody, a city just east of the mountains. On the way down there is a huge dam and next to it a tunnel that goes under the mountains towards Cody. The driver of cart that takes visitors from the parking lot to the visitor center (perhaps 100 meters / yards drive) called me over, opened a gate to the old and free of traffic road. He agreed with my concerns about cycling through the tunnel. I had the road and view to myself.<br />
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Leaving Cody seemed as if I am in a new, unpopulated land, just discovered by us humans. It is flat and desolate.<br />
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After a few hours of being alone this road, another cross country cyclist, Bob, comes from the opposite direction. I learn from him that the mountains I am facing, Big Horn, are in fact higher than the Rockies. <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ten_Sleep,_Wyoming" target="_blank">Ten Sleep</a> is situated in the valley just below the Big Horn mountains. Cycling into the valley was breath taking:<br />
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This was the gate to the heavens....on the other side of the mountains in order to get to Buffalo, the city I am aiming for, I had to go via this canyon, up hill...<br />
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The climb was difficult. Even after reaching the pass summit, at 9666 ft. or 2943 m. there where numerous ups and downs to cycle. I felt the thin air. It made climbing up hill even harder. Finally, I reached the point where it was all downhill into the city Buffalo.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-76452133117973000092017-07-09T18:47:00.000-07:002017-07-09T19:52:38.435-07:00Yelowstone. So special for me.I guess I was 13 or 14 years old. We had an encyclopedia that had some 12 or 16 volumes. I read them all. One entry was about Old Faithful. I remember wanting to visit this wonderful phenomenon.<br />
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So, while planning my trip, I realized that if I change my original plan, I can realize one more dream.<br />
I got to West Yellowstone, a typical tourist trap and headed into the park. After a short while, I leave Montana and am welcomed to Wyoming.<br />
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The park stars of looking just like the scenery I've been cycling through for days. A river, trees, some mountains. Disappointing, I'd say. After an hour or so, I'm thinking to myself, "so what's the big deal"? And then Deep Purple's Smoke on the water plays in my head. Well, it is steam and colorful pools packed with minerals coughed up by mother earth.<br />
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But it was not Old Faithful. Cycling on, there is a bicycle path. A shortcut to take cyclists off the road and away from traffic. I eagerly enter the path. I feel the excitement. The 14 year old chants: "I'm going to see Old Faithful". The 59 year old tears up a bit. And here it is. A crowd of people from around the world waiting for the next burst of steam and boiling water. And then it happens. 45 years of waiting for a dream to come true and this is it:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jUgz35T-OAo/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jUgz35T-OAo?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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Ok, there are better videos, but this one is mine!!<br />
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Started to head out. It is a tough up hill towards the continental divide. Rode until 10:05 p.m. to get to the next campground. The office closed at 10:00...but the guy in the laundry room was just finishing his duties, heard my story, told me about the hikers' / bikers' section in the campground and gave me a free ticket for the showers..."you are an Israeli".<br />
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The next morning I continue up hill. And some more... finally, I get to the Continental Divide.<br />
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It is very wide and consists of a few mountains when crossing from west to east. An hour later I reach, the slightly higher sign:<br />
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It is only when I reach 8,530 feet that my descent begins until I leave Yellowstone National Park.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-64352221423960190472017-07-07T17:39:00.000-07:002017-07-09T19:59:19.456-07:00Nice pictures heading to YellowstoneReal live cowboys. I asked them to pose, despite it being embarassig to them, and they agreed (me being from Israel...)<br />
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I don't know what kind of bird this is, but it feeds off fish. So, yep, this was taken near the Missouri river which starts at Three Forks the town I was heading to.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-23869925807121701332017-07-07T17:26:00.000-07:002017-07-09T20:00:46.827-07:00On my way to Yellowstone<span id="docs-internal-guid-5e9d86c8-29dd-e5d5-d28f-fe3e1f77da8b" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;">The other day, the forecast was 20% chance for thunderstorms. It turned into 100% twice.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;">During a relatively easy but long distance of cycling up hill with very strong head wind, the sky suddenly turned gray, then black but no rain as yet. I reached the summit. I started descending, thunder, lightning (the other way round...) and then, on the left, a small town with a small pub appeared. The two (motor) bikers who overtook me just moments ago were parked outside the pub. There was another customer already there, so the four of us were chatting, “ from where, to where”?, and so on. The storm has passed (come and goes away quickly). Steve, the owner refused to take money from me. "You're an Israeli ...". But it's a business, I insist, “yes”, he replies, "and I am doing just fine...".</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;">Got back on my bicycle hoping to get to Ennis. Just about 12 km before I make it, the storm starts again. The coat does its job. As my luck goes, there was a lodge with a restaurant that I managed to reach before getting drenched by the rain. They did, indeed, have vacancy for the mere price of 169 dollars. I declined. But it's nice and dry inside so I sat at the bar. The man on my right asks the usual. Where did you get to sleep? So I told him that I hoped the lodge would be nice, but the price was too high, so when the storm ends I’ll go on to Ennis and find a motel. "I have the best place for you." He gives me instructions on how to get there and hosts me in a separate hut. What a generous and hospitable person!!! Thanks Derek!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;">I went to sleep. I woke up to the strongest earthquake in the region in years. The bed moved, all the accessories in the room calmly swung from side to side. And then a great silence! I went back to sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-29491929422639696642017-07-04T14:18:00.000-07:002018-01-12T23:47:20.186-08:00Lolo to Helena, The Great Divide and Lorna & BillI met Lorna and Bill at the Lolo Pass information center. We had a nice chat that started with questions about my bamboo bike and my tour in the U.S. and moved over to politics. Bill offered me water, as the water pipes were busted at the information center (i.e. chemical toilets) and Lorna found a great tasting snack bar for me to take with me. It lasted just one minute after they left.<br />
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Going towards Ovando, a good stop on tour divide (on the great divide of the Rocky Mountains) I meet Justin and David who began their tour in Calgary. They cycled to Banff and have been on the trail until they decided to get off the trail for a while. David is going home soon while Justin is planning to continue.<br />
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I arrived in Ovando late in the evening and decided to stay there. Ovando, a very cyclist friendly town. Has the old jail house, a tipi and a Shepard's hut for cyclists to stay over night. The hut was too hot, the jail occupied by two young cyclists and while having dinner, I met two other cyclists, Paula and Maurine, who I thought may want the tipi, so I set up my tent on the grass.<br />
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Turns out that Paula and Maurine are doing the great divide trail. Paula will go home from Helena while Maurine will be joined by another friend to continue the tour.<br />
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The next day I headed towards Helena. Just before the peak of MacDonald's pass (1900 meters / 6270 ft), a car stops just ahead of me. Lorna and Bill!! This time, after completing our previous conversation, they gave me bananas and power bars and one more of those yummy bars that Lorna gave me at Lolo pass.<br />
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Fireworks all around. Happy 4th of July.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-14389487476285521122017-07-02T08:49:00.000-07:002017-07-02T08:49:42.763-07:00A summery of a few daysWiFi service in the remote mountain areas is rare and when it does exist, it is slow and of poor quality. So, a few days have passed and now that I am in Missoula, I have a chance to post some stories.<br />
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Crossing over from Washington, where I was following the <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_and_Clark_Expedition" target="_blank">Lewis and Clark trail</a>, to Idaho into the Indian (yep, no p.c. here) reservation was a sudden change in atmosphere. Everything was about the Nez Perce tribe. Coyote was turning, again, others into stone, every sign posted had some reference to the tribe and yet I did not see any tribe member. It was weird to me.<br />
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I did like that Idaho has many campgrounds and historical (Nez Perce) sites. They have toilets at most locations. The views were beautiful.<br />
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And I just wish that this would be true<br />
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Finally, made it into Lowell where everyone counts...<br />
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The next morning, as I was about to leave, three young men, Jose, Josh and Scott, 26 years old, cycle in. They are doing a Portland to Portland (west coast to east coast) to raise money for pancreatic cancer research. They tell me that about 45 miles (70 km) up road there are hot springs. They stay for breakfast at the restaurant while I cycle on. They caught up to me just about a mile away from the hot springs. There is a SINGLE PATH!!!! leading to the springs. It was steep so I rode only part of it towards the springs, but bombed downhill on my way back. The hot springs were great. Hot. My muscles enjoyed the hot water while Jose played his guitar and sang his lungs out. They were planning to stay with the young group of women that were already at the springs. I took off. We met again at the campground just ahead of Lolo pass. They did not stay at the springs after all.<br />
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The next day, I started uphill over Lolo pass and then glided down to Lolo. I decided to change my route and go to West Yellowstone via Missoula and Helena. More towns for food along the way. That's today and the next four or five days.<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971695845761295268.post-45647924086876161752017-06-28T08:48:00.000-07:002017-06-28T08:48:44.935-07:00PomeroyGetting to Pomeroy, a small town in Washington, I took the scenic way via Turner and Mare<br />
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ngo. These two "blink and you'll miss 'em" are on a road that shortcuts highway 12. Part of the road was gravel, including the steep downhill to Marengo. I knew that leaving the Marengo valley will be uphill. It was steeper than the other side. My bicycle and I enjoyed this section.<br />
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Finally, I arrived at Pomeroy, headed to the park and set up my tent without the cover, you know, to see the stars... The sprinklers came on, automatically I hope, at about 2:00 a.m. I jumped out of my sleeping bag, found the fly (cover) ran between the sprinklers, to divert them away, and the tent to complete covering it.<br />
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In the background, Robert, the other cyclist, was cussing out loud... he was not in a tent but rather under the open sided shed. He found a spot where the sprinklers did reach.<br />
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Turns out that Robert cycles all the time and on occasion for a good cause to raise money. His latest was for an 11 year old cancer patient girl. He raised $11,000!<br />
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<br />Duboohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08833069910541614469noreply@blogger.com2