Day 15: At the Nevada-Utah border

Tonight we are staying at the Border Inn Casino. None of us are gambling of course but it seems that every hotel and even most of the motels in Nevada are also casinos or gambling halls. As the name implies, tonight’s casino is directly on the border with Utah. The motel rooms where we are staying are just barely on the Utah side and the casino is just barely on the Nevada side. Our phones keep switching between Pacific and Mountain time zones which has caused some chaos. Entering a new state was a big deal for all of us when we entered Nevada, but I think entering a new time zone is another even more indicative sign of milestone in our journey across the country.

The night sky at Great Basin. Photo taken on my iPhone.

When it got dark we drove 10 miles or so into Great Basin National Park to do some star gazing. It was quite spectactular since we are so far away from any town larger than a few hundred people.

The forecast for our destination for tomorrow

Our team got very lucky the last few days with relatively cool weather as we biked through the Nevada desert. Most days the high was in the 60s or 70s which felt warm while biking uphill but was otherwise fairly pleasant. Unfortunately, this great weather is ending and today and the next few weeks will be very hot. This has meant that our whole team has had to shift our schedules so that we can start biking very early in the morning to try to beat the heat.

We have two more very intense days ahead of us to get to Salt Lake City. Both days are around 100 miles through the Utah desert in hot weather. I feel pretty optimistic that we can do it, though the timing may be difficult because it may simply become too hot to bike for large parts of the day.

-Leo

Day 14: Rest Day Synopsis and Cricket Reflections

Rest Day Synopsis

We had our first rest day in Ely, Nevada! The day was objectively wonderful and undramatic. We woke up and had Denny’s for breakfast. It was so great to have coffee that we did not microwave in a Tupperware container. Then, we explored the Ely’s railroad museum, Nevada Northern Railway Museum, where we got to wander empty train carts, talk to mechanics, and trace our way down railroad tracks. It was fun to look at the stained glass and pretend I was in an old western romantic train ride movie (full disclosure, I retained a minimal amount of the actual history on the placards explaining the buildings around the exhibits).

Team selfie on a train!

Romanticizing the train interior …

After the museum, we visited the local thrift shop, where I was delighted at the selection and alarmed to realize how much of a rip-off the thrift shops in the Bay Area are. Following the thrift shop, I tried my first root beer float (ever) at Economy Drug & Old Fashioned Fountain, which was magical. Whoever decided to combine soda and ice cream was a genius. We then ended the night with ramen in the hotel room and a group-wide decision to sleep early so that we would be able to wake up early enough to head out the next day.

The best root beer float of all time!

Cricket Reflections

Our rest day was great for both my muscles and my mind to do absolutely nothing. So, instead of fabricating explanations of the nonexistent thoughts I had that day, I’d like to make space to discuss something that has truly been occupying my mind a lot the past few days: mormon crickets — very loud and bouncy menaces about the size of two human thumbs pressed together. We first encountered them on our way out of Middlegate. They started speckling the side of the road. I thought they were pebbles until a teammate pointed out they were moving. When we pulled over shortly after to meet bikers at a rest stop, the swarms of them that started coming towards the parked car looked like a literal plague. When we stepped out of the car, they would jump up to mid-calve and knee level. They seemed to understand angry curse words, though, and bounce diagonally away at select phrases. Any time I had to travel through a cricket herd on foot, my mouth ran as fast as my feet. In the subsequent days, they would appear on various parts of the bike trail and highway. We would pedal past streaks of mormon cricket carcasses on the road. They often jumped angrily and loudly when we passed through their herds on bikes, sometimes ricocheting off our calves, sometimes crunching under our wheels.

If you zoom in on this photo, you will see that each spot on the ground is a mormon cricket! I took this photo from the van because I was far away — when I’m close enough to them to capture an actually clear photo I am far too busy running away to take that clear photo.

In all seriousness, though, from a few conversations with locals, it became clear that these numbers of crickets were unusual, environmentally destructive, and a consequence of Nevada having a warmer winter this past year (so not enough of them died off in the winter). In other words, these crickets were likely the product of climate change. As much as I despise these crickets, I also realize how privileged I am to be able to simply pedal away from the problem and hide away in an air-conditioned building in Ely. I passed by many trailer homes in the desert, unable to escape these crickets, shouldering the consequences of actions of people who may never see or interact with these crickets or these people. While I had known for a while in theory that climate change impacted communities disproportionally, I got to see this theory in practice two weeks into the trip.

Sincerely,

Helen

Day 13: demon mode

in the middle of desert shrubbery, which looked like randomly dispersed pom-poms, i went to the bathroom (#2). i learned to use a red steel(?) shovel, and i a dug a 6-12 inch hole while flies swarmed low in fear of the impending rain. to me, moments like these are real—you can’t escape your body’s needs, and you can’t outhink human processes. you are, as my mom says a vessel, but even in this vessel, you must adhere to its limits and ways of being,

as alex told me during one of the early days, there are things in life that are real, and there are things in life that are fake. this trip helps inject a heavy dose of the former: i’ve learned how to put on a bike wheel and work a bike rack. i’ve also learned how to remain warm in frigid elevation (apparently, you wear as little layers as possible in a sleeping bag) and travel through swaths of mormon crickets (to minimize splats, bike with speed and bike straight). i’m learning life skills and building street smarts (counterintuitive, i know).

this is what i’ve been told happens when you voyage through any outdoors trip, biking or not. you become a pseudo boy scout, and you reservoir an index of niche but practical information. i’ve also been told that these types of things are life-changing, soul-forming, though i could never quite parse out the reason. is it the exposure to different people, places, and ways of life? is it the time alone, meandering on roads and in thoughts less traveled? is it the intensity—the accumulation of physical and mental dexterity? is it that nature heals, that it allows us to feel more appropiately sized in space and time? i suspect that it is no singular reason and more or less all of these.

but when people said that you could find yourself on this trip, i was skeptical. i mean, that feels like the snare of some self help book. with each day, however, i find this to be true. i’m realizing more of my nature—maybe some deficits and delusions—and it’s been easier to do so when every other factor is transient. if we change homes, food, routes, and people, how can i not take responsibility for what persists? so, long story short, i’ve been in demon mode (lol), observing and refining my thoughts and tendencies. in my journal i write for on the road: what’s naive & what’s seasoned? what’s protection & what’s panic? which horrors are real and which are fake & how to act in spite—or because—of that knowledge to strangers? i also wonder about security in my relationships: what’s comfort & what’s a fear of being threatened? what’s competitive & what’s imposed? these parts are difficult but fufilling, and i am very much in the midst of these changes.

today (i am writing this a few days late), i was sitting outside our motel in Utah, near a discarded laundry machine and broken gnome. i was staring and sometimes sobbing, thinking about something that happened in spring quarter. my gaze was toward a wooden basketball hop, and a bird perched on its rim staring back. then my drift was halted as anna called. she asked where i was and told me that dinner was ready, and i said i wasn’t feeling okay, and she said “when you’re feeling better, you can come back and eat.” tears welled up again, and the salt of my eyes mixed with the sweat on my face, and i sat there in grime and coated sunscreen, perched on someone’s old leather stool. the subtlety of her care touched me, and in these moments, especially, when i feel more soft and confused and bewildered by life, i’m reminded of how lucky i am to be able to express this—and experience this age and this trip with these people.

time to watch the stars now!!!!

victoria

Day 12: On Wonder

A moment from this morning: Jordan speeding downhill in polka-dot shorts and red shades (the epitome of cool), arms outstretched in greeting or challenge or just pure joy—and there, below, the valley yawning open before us in greeting or challenge or ancient indifference, the road a silver tongue that snakes into the distance.

I don’t take a photo. Mostly because my phone is tucked away, and because in this particular moment I am gripping my handlebars with both hands a little tighter than necessary, trying to summon some semblance of guts to stare down the valley in all its shrubby glory.

There’s another reason I don’t take a photo, one I only parsed out for myself this afternoon: trying to capture any moment here in its entirety feels like an impossible task. (By that definition, I guess one could argue all photos are attempting impossible tasks—an idea I’ve been trying to teach in my workshop—but that’s beside the point.) How to capture the strangeness of it all? Impossible.

So here goes: Nevada is an arid Seuss-scape. By which I mean shrubs and clouds resemble cartoonish heads of hair; crooked, colorful mailboxes stand obediently by the side of the road, no house in sight; the world appears and disappears around the nearest curve in the road…everything is real and surreal, recognizable and alien all at once. I know what clouds, shrubs, rock, and dirt look like, but this particular permutation of them all still has the capacity to surprise me.

Leo and the infinite road

Sometimes. The experience of biking surprises me sometimes, when I remember to pay attention to my surroundings and wonder strikes me full force. Then, inevitably, my mind drifts—caught in the mechanics of staying on pace, in the heat and the rushing current of wind, in the Mormon crickets that infest the road (read to the end). I bike with my blinders on. Until some time later (minutes? hours?), I remember to open myself up to wonder again.

I’m not sure what to do about how quickly I can become desensitized to the newness I encounter every day—not just in the natural landscape, but also in the strangers we meet, the places we teach. In many ways, it’s a defense mechanism: there’s too much newness for me to engage in all of it without exhausting myself. But I’ve been warned that apathy is one of the main dangers on a trip like this, and having traveled and camped in desert territory for the past few days, I think I’m beginning to understand.

Me. In wonder.

I want to hold my wonder as long as I’m able. Like that moment from this morning: me speeding downhill, gripping my handlebars with both hands a little tighter than necessary, laughing into the wind.

Anna

P.S. My Mormon cricket song: Mormon crickets, Mormon crickets / They croak, they fly / When Spokes go by / Mormon crickets, Mormon crickets / Not sad to see you die

Day 11: One After Another, All in One Day

There are a few things that everyone might consider a nuisance when cycling across the country, and somehow the team managed to encounter them one after another, all in one day. The list of encumbrances goes something like this:

1) Long, Unexpected Inclines

The team had about 70 miles to cover today. That alone was sobering thought, given it was the most mileage we have needed to cover in a day thus far. However, when we started the day, we were under the impression that at least most of those 70 miles would be downhill. Nevada had other plans for us. What we thought would be a gentle downhill slope turned out to be miles of winding, uphill road weaving between towering red rock. Needless to say, we were less than pleased at this development.

2) Cricket Swarms

So apparently the Battle Born State has been dealing with a severe infestation of invasive “Mormon Crickets,” a fact we first learned of when we pulled into a parking lot to take a break only to find it covered in a carpet of russet red crickets. The crickets would remain a nuisance for the rest of the day, increasing in number as time went on. Now as I write this, the memory of them jumping around, smacking our legs as we pedaled makes me wince, I doubt it’s a feeling that I, or anyone else on the team, will forget soon.

3) Rain

As if cricket swarms were not enough, rain came pouring down about ¾ of the way through today’s route, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for our plight with the critters.

4) Lightning

A menacing cumulonimbus cloud had been stalking Helen and I for the entirety of our ride, and though for a moment we thought we could shake it, we ultimately became enveloped in a fully fledged thunderstorm in the middle of the desert. We soon met up with the sag wagon and the team decided it might be wise to stop biking. Instead, we would try and shuttle everyone out of the storm in hopes we might be able to bike the rest of the way once out. Anna and I volunteered to wait while the rest of the team checked out the situation ahead. As the van drove off, we scrambled to find shelter, but there was none to be found in this desolate stretch of road. So there we were, drenched and defeated, contemplating our life choices and wondering why we didn't just take up knitting instead.

Leo and Alex didn’t make us wait long though, and we were soon reunited with the rest of the team (finding Helen and Victoria folded in a tarp taco). Unfortunately, there was no way we were gonna get ahead of the storm, so we piled into the van as lightning clashed overhead, racing the cumulonimbus to the campground where we would spend the night.

In the end, Day 11 turned out to be a rollercoaster ride of misfortune and hilarity. From battling uphill inclines that seemed never-ending to being bombarded by a relentless army of crickets, and then being drenched by rain and chased by lightning, it felt like the universe had conspired against us. But despite the absurdity of it all, we couldn't help but find humor in our soggy predicament. As we huddled together in the van, rain pouring outside and lightning flashing in the sky, we laughed, knowing that these are the moments we'll remember and retell with a mix of disbelief and fondness. Tomorrow is a new day, and who knows what other bizarre challenges await us on this wild cross-country cycling adventure. Bring it on, universe!

~ Jordan

Day 10: East, to Middlegate

Endurance sports are a fickle matter. The challenges you face in the first few days, weeks, and months are all drastically different. In the first few days of riding, we thought our limiting factor would be physical strength. Biking 70 miles seemed like a physically exhausting task. Now, as we’ve trained up our abilities, our new challenge is mental. Biking across the desert under the blazing sun requires sustained focus and a willingness to be bored. To me, this is where biking is at its best. It’s an opportunity to re-connect with one’s mind, body and environment – weaving the three threads into harmony.

After traversing the Nevadan desert, we arrived at Middlegate – an “unincorporated hamlet” which anyone was free to camp on. The only rule? Don’t bother anyone else. Some people living there appeared to be permanent residents, while others were only passerbys.

Staying at Middlegate was a memorable experience. Not only was the laissez faire approach to running a campground new to us, but Middlegate was also a gateway into the past. Some parts of the settlement had clearly not changed for many years. Similar to the rings of a tree, we could see the layers of history that had built up at Middlegate over the years. Some things had clearly changed, while others had not.

Alex

Day 9: Cruisin' in the Desert

Today we started biking again after our two days of teaching in Carson City. Wow! It was so nice to start biking without already feeling sore. All of us noticed that we were much stronger cyclists and were able to keep a faster pace already. I think it’s super important that we continue to have regularly scheduled rest days to give our bodies time to recover and get stronger. Sometimes, it can be hard to remember the length of our journey and that it is so much more about endurance than speed.

 This morning we rode on highway 50 which went smoothly downhill at a low grade. It was a super pleasant ride where we could unfocus from the road and enjoy the beautiful Nevadan scenery. It was one of the first times where I felt like I could really relax while biking and enjoy the scenery.

As the day got hotter, and the roads got rougher, the bike ride definitely got tougher. Though I am tired from our ride today, I still feel energized from our time in Carson. It really is hard to believe how far we have come in just a little over a week!

-Leo

Day 8: Sticky Classroom Thoughts

I’m proud to say that our team finally wrapped up our first teaching commitment — workshops over June 22 and June 23 at the Boys and Girls Club in Carson City, Nevada. We jammed to my all-time favorite song (if you know, you know) on our first drive there and we wrapped up with a celebratory team Sonic drive through run on our final drive back.  To be honest, my thoughts and feelings are quite jumbled among the flying shoes, proffered onion rings, hugs around the waist, and the oh so many piggyback rides. I will use this space to hash out the thoughts and feelings that stick out particularly as I sit at our host’s dining table, eyeballing the coffee cake she kindly bought us for breakfast tomorrow morning...

 What I’m Grateful For

First and foremost, I want to shout out the staff at the Boys and Girls Club. Mastor helped coordinate the entire workshop days — he greeted us in the parking lot with the warmest smile and was a constant touch point well after the workshops wrapped. Juan not only helped set up tech time and time again, he also managed the classroom with both skill and care. He stood in the corner of the classroom as I led my first ever workshop, and that corner served as a visual anchor point of support for me. Finally, Johnny was incredibly sweet and efficient, he always made sure we had quick and easy access to any space we needed, and somehow seemed to be everywhere at once, classroom managing, snapping photos, and answering any questions we had. In all seriousness, these people are heroes. I mean it.

 I led two workshops on social identities and intersectionality, and I got incredibly lucky both times I led it. Many students I worked with were engaged, shared personal stories, and some even seemed genuinely upset when I had to wrap up activities to move on in the workshop. I had two other teammates supporting me when I ran my workshop each time, so they alongside the staff always helped tremendously with classroom management. I truly could not have asked for a better support system, and I look back at these workshops with a lot of gratitude.

What Confused Me

There were many moments where I didn’t know the best ways to navigate (outside of classroom) interactions I had with students. Some were clearly brush offs. I was asked to “go down the slide so I can take your shoe away.” That was an easy no. Others were more ambiguous. I was asked constantly “are you a boy or a girl?” by the very young students, followed by “a girl? I knew it!” or “but you look like a boy!” but in all cases proceeding to then use she/her pronouns when referring to me. I didn’t know whether to explain pronouns or to simply answer the question and move on. I consistently chose the latter each time in Carson because it felt easiest. Others felt uncomfortable. I was bombarded by “are you Chinese?” and after receiving an affirmative I was met with “Konnichiwa!” or a chant “Speak Chinese! Speak Chinese!” or the occasional “then what are you doing here? I was born here, why are you here?” I defaulted to shutting down the interaction as soon as possible to prevent further rowdiness, but even then left feeling quite bewildered. If I had been 8 instead of 20 years old standing on that playground facing those words, I don’t know how I would react. One particularly jarring interaction was when a student in blackface slammed into the door of my classroom, causing all heads in the room to whip around. My jaw dropped. Of course, the student was promptly reprimanded, but the entire day I’ve been haunted by how I felt entirely shocked in the moment rather than having an immediate course of action prepared to go.

All in all, what was most surprising to me about these interactions was how entirely confused I felt in these interactions. While I personally did not feel threatened interacting with the students, it felt as if truly threatening interactions could stem from the viewpoints and opinions that could have set the foundation for the interactions that I did experience. I knew going into Spokes that I would experience a world beyond the liberal and heavily Asian American Bay Area bubble I grew up in, that didn’t properly hit until now.

My Thoughts Going Forward

 I still need to do a lot of thinking about these above interactions to figure out how I want to be deliberate about navigating them. I’m excited to adjust my lessons now that I know what works well and what doesn’t. I’m curious to see how classrooms, students, and staff interactions will change as we move through the country. There’s so much to be grateful for and so much to learn — I’m ready to take that on with my coffee on coffeecake tomorrow morning.

Sincerely,

Helen