the slow and somewhat methodical

day four. 17.9 miles. davis to sacramento. sunburn. s u n b u r n. would you like to see my sunburn? goddammit.

why did i conclude that riding for two hours with my shirt off would be a good idea? no jeff, that was a terrible idea. fucking terrible. one knows that it is a bad thing when they step from the shower with their shirt off, and the three other people in the room all say something to the efftect of, "oh my god jeff!" yes yes. my back is indeed red. the strange feeling of shoulderblades squeezing together, and compressing the fragile skin. so christian kiefer picks us up in sacramento. drives us around running errands. we go to rocklin. the sacramento traffic on the highway clogging the ugly roads. welcome my friends, to the land of strip malls and noise. oh how i have always despised sacramento. feeling hopelessly trapped inside of it's hopeless landscape. we drive to retrieve christian's son and drop him at his piano lesson. afternoon tea. the heat rising off the pavement in waves. dinner. the dog "bob," moves slowly about, his old body lumbering and creeping. creaking. his movement is labored, as though he weighs quite a bit more than he does. a hippopotamous in the wrong body. christian tells stories of ice climbing and his proximity to death. i marvel at how close we seem to come sometimes. and then it is reading time. i am gifted with the honor of reading harry potter to a young boy. i do the voices. the accent. i read in my gorilla mask. we listen to some early rough mixes from christian's new record, and i am stunned. what a gift he has. we play guitar for a while. i miss the feeling in my hands, and the sound rising up from my chest. sometimes, it just feels magnificent to sing. we sleep. i attempt to refrain from rolling over much. we wake. we drive to a cafe while christian teaches, and await his return for our drop-off, back on course. perhaps a detour to buy a new pair of sunglasses. yes. placerville is the goal today, but it grows late, and some things have been mistakenly left at the kiefer household, which may change everything. such it is no?

day five. 59.8 miles. sacramento to placerville. {100 to 2000 ft. elevation}

christian drops us back in downtown sacramento and we ride along the river. the river trail was monotonous and winding, with trashy folks smoking weed and getting drunk on the bank. fishing from the overpasses, which baffles me. why? vast nothingness spread out on all sides, save but the delta vegetation along the river. we find ourselves mildly lost here and there, as the trail splits off in places. the hills begin as we approach the nimbus dam, beneath a motionless sky inflated with white. we wind back and forth on both sides of the river and stop to watch the birds exploding at the breaking water. a pile of rocks beside the fish ladder, where the hollow-boned flutterers flutter. the nimbus hatchery. they look like rocks flying violently up from the giant wheels of some giant truck. we then proceed to climb three miles uphill on the wrong road, which we later backtrack. must get better at reading these damn maps. focus jefferson. we stop {tired, tired, tired at this point} for snowcones. cherry. we speak to a polish woman and her daughter named kasha who runs about in circles. she is like the birds, arms flailing. jumping. squeaking. the mother's heart is warm and soothing. perhaps the energy of a mother is a blessing in this moment. she sends us back in the right direction and we make our way back to downtown folsom to find the correct road that we climb and climb and climb. up out of the valley, into the foothills, and the rising elevation. as the heat crashes down, warming my miserable sunburn, the shakes begin.

the slow and somewhat methodical unraveling of the mind. i find trouble imagining ourselves making it to placerville any time before dark. i cannot begin to think about maine. fuck maine. my legs are weak, and the choice against spandex under the shorts is a bad one. no chafing or numbness, but my penis feels mildly uncomfortable all day being uncontained. flopping around. as my fatigue grows, i find myself constantly shifting it about and moving it from side to side. we stop at a junior high as we've run out of water, and i put on my red tights under the shorts. drink water. contemplate the beauty in just pitching our tents there for the night. but no. no, no, no. we will {unknowingly, thinking it would be about twelve} ride another 25 miles. oh. and the complaining rolls in. i'm hot, my legs are tired, my chaffing is bothering me, there is too much fucking weight on my bike, i would like to bathe, i would like to know where i am going to sleep at night and am feeling uncomfortable about that, and feeling uncomfortable that i feel uncomfortable, and more than all else i miss keri. i cannot speak to her enough. not even close. and while i feel her in me, i feel lost out here sometimes. dizzy and disoriented. alas, the comfort of love is the most priceless of comforts. immeasurable.

yesterday, as i showed christian's son on a map how far we were actually riding our bikes, he giggled and said, "whoa, that's cool!" meanwhile, it struck me. i could have begun crying for the fear in this. my god maine is far away. i was instantly completely overwhelmed. instantly. it has not left yet. nope. as i drew my finger slowly across the map, i shook my head, saying to myself, "this is fucking crazy!"

so we arrived last night around 8, after a fearful and exhilarating 1.5 miles on highway 50 with trucks speeding by at 85mph. we pull into town and ride the winding road into the shops and restaurants and quiet streets. people stand outside of bars smoking. pints in hand. we eat dinner and ride up the steepest hill of the day, to a middle school where we pitch our tents on the field. sleep comes fast and hard. i am woken at five am by the sprinklers somehow miraculously, {a wonder of the natural world really} finding their way up through the rain fly and into my tent, liberally spraying my face and arms. goddammit. come on man. come fucking on. i tought of that before going to bed, but was far to tired to place the tent in a more intelligent location. i rise an hour later to find a good majority of my things soaking wet, as i staked out the rainfly quite poorly and lazily. alas jefferson. alas.

breakfast. a quick stop at the cozmic cafe {the old placerville coffeehouse} with the old mines used for places to sit and read. today, we attempt to ride to the top of the sierras. hmmmmmmmmnn.

Posted by jeff pitcher at June 9, 2004 12:59 PM

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