Picture Classics and one final ramble

Possibly my favorite photo of us riding, getting after it on a climb in Yellowstone.



19 hours into the Cannonball, 2nd waffle house.




Apperently, "falling into Geysers turns you into a huge dork in yellowstone national park" Justin Johnson




On the eve of the Gutterball; the process of perfecting the pancake suffered a second failed attempt, the first ended up in the fire. By the time the flapjack was perfected we were in North Carolina.



Finally made it to Mammoth Cave National Park, KY, now loitering in the hotel and deciding these caves aren't really worth our time


Most of the time my favorite memories come in moments where taking pictures is the last thing on your mind. These moments could never be captured by a photo or even video, they are just experienced. Whether it was riding the first 30 miles out of Bay View, WA on nervous energy not knowing what to expect, or taking our final turn towards the ocean in Myrtle Beach. Watching Justin develop as a true cyclist from suffering up the cascades to finding his bonk proof legs and hammering up Appalachian climbs. Putting smiles on continental breakfast ladies across the nation as they proudly looked on as we devoured any food in sight. From the feeling of the ground whizzing by your feet at 30 mph behind a tailwind to suffering in a headwind at 2:00 in the afternoon knowing you had to make it another 75 miles that day. From Cannonballing to gutterballing. Making full moon descents of passes in the Appalachians and talking with hundreds of interesting characters throughout the country. These are just a few of the memories that I will take out of our ride from sea to shining sea.

JJ's Cannonball

DP's cannonball

Stats and Jerseys

Total Mileage - 3,385.5
Total Time - 257:39
Total Days - 43

Longest Day - 300.3 (Gutterball - Ericson, NE --> Altoona, IA)
Longest Day Without Support - 223.5 (Cannonball - Spartanberg, SC --> Myrtle Beach, SC)
Shortest Day - 0 (Gardiner, MT; Casper, WY; West Des Moines, IA; Iowa City, IA)

Days stuck within 50 miles of Casper, WY - 5 days for 50 miles of riding

States - 12 (WA, ID, MT, WY, NE, IA, IL, IN, KY, TN, NC, SC)

Days With Support - 13

Hotel Days - 19


Mechanical Problems

Flat Tires (no flats since WY)
DP - 6
JJ- 3

Shifter
JJ - left shifter broke with 750 miles to go, lost half the gears but still had the important easy gears

Trailer
JJ - bike shop gave Justin an old Burley trailer in West Des Moines, IA


Jerseys

Yellow Jersey - (1) Justin Todd Johnson (257:39); (2) David Mario Palazzo (+0.00)

The Yellow Jersey is settled by roshambo (rock, paper, scissors). This epic rosham was best of 7. Johnson's paper suffocated Palazzo's rock during the seventh round at the Myrtle Beach Public Library. The yellow jersey was awarded accordingly.


Green Jersey - (1) David Mario Palazzo - 91; (2) Justin Todd Johnson - 58

Palazzo racked up a lot of spring points early in the tour leaving Johnson too much ground to catch-up. Massive sprints to broder crossings in KY, TN, and SC ended within a bike wheel and utlimately clinched the sprinting category.


Polka Dot - (1) David Mario Palazzo - 66; (2) Justin Todd Johnson - 52

Palazzo quickly took to the lead ascending massive passes in the Cascades and Rocky Mountains before the spry Johnson. Finally in shape, Johnson put up a viscious fight for the Appalachians. However, some missing signs and lack of opportunities proved to be too little too late.


White - (1) David Mario Palazzo

Palazzo was able to fend off all competitors in the under 25 classification.


Lantern Rouge ("The Red Lantern") - (1) David Mario Palazzo; (2) Justin Todd Johnson

Palazzo graciously took the jersey for the last competitor to complete the tour without getting disqualified. A great tour for a man barely able to defeat a humiliating disqualification.

FAQ's and Not So Frequently Asked Questions

People were full of questions on this trip. Our questions revolved around campgrounds, bikeshops, wal-marts, and food. The questions towards us were almost always the same, but ocassionally we would get a gem.

FAQ

1. Where did you guys start?

Today we started in ______. Originally we started north of Seattle, Washington. Yes, the state of Washington.

2. How far do you guys go in one day?

We shoot for 100 miles.

3. Where are you from?

Colorado. Justin originally grew up in Iowa. Dave is from Denver.


Gems

1. Are you guys professionals?

No, but we would be if you gave us a free meal. (We should have said yes.)

2. Is that your trainer? (pointing to Ray Johnson)

No. He did provide much needed support. He is not a trainer, but we consider him a Gutterballer.

3. So do you guys do those racing tours? Like that one in France?

Neither one of us has participated in the Tour de France. Dave does do some racing though back in Colorado.

4. Where can I rent one of those bikes?

Sorry, we own these bikes. I'm not sure if you can rent bikes around here.
(Drag of the cigarette.)

Aren't those trailers cute?

Yes.

(Looking back, I would have paid the two women to ride these two bikes for as long as they wanted to ride them. They reminded me of Marge Simpson's sisters.)

Cannonballing into the Ocean

Cannonball:
1. a missile, usually round and made of iron or steel, designed to be fired from a cannon.
2. anything that moves with great speed, as an express train.

3. Cycling. A double century with fully loaded trailers.

A Cannonball had been a frequent topic of conversation during our trip. We spoke about it as more of a joke than anything, something maybe we could do on Halloween in costumes. We sat in 'the berg' eating breakfast and discussing our final two day mileage strategy. We were two big days away, 230 miles we thought. How should we do it, 130 then 100? 150 then an easy 80? ‘Well I guess we could just cannonball it’ Justin commented almost under his breath as he sipped his OJ. That was all it took, our final push, it had to be done.

A cannonball was soon underway and before we knew it we were lost. Well not so much lost just a wrong turn, 3 to 5 miscellaneous miles and were back on track. 6 O’clock came and the sun started to disappear, flashbacks from the gutterball started to come as we got the lights and highly visible gear (AKA high vis).
The night went well and we seemed to be making incredibly good time, too good we thought, at this rate we’ll arrive at the beach in the dark. That might be the worst thing imaginable, one of our reasons for pushing through the night was to see the beach during the day we arrived. We had a century to go and it was only eight O’clock. We started to stop more frequently to eat and talk to friendly South Carolinians about our grand finale.

At 4:45AM we were at our 2nd waffle house in about a twenty mile stretch. A waffle house is a phenomenal tool for performance enhancing in gutterballing and cannonballing. Massive amounts of carbs were consumed. It was getting tough out on the road though, our pace had slowed significantly and the cold of the night was wearing us down. As usual we discussed our situation with our waiter and Bob, who was an old war vet in the booth next to us. Bob offered us two recliners to nap in, to regain some strength for the final thirty miles. We happily accepted, and around eight in the morning we found ourselves back at the same waffle house ready to complete our journey.

The countdown began and in a couple hours we could see the ocean. The floral department was unleashed. Our ridiculous Halloween costumes which never got used in Knoxville were put into play for the final 10 miles. We ripped through the streets of Myrtle Beach and rode down to the water. What a feeling, we made it, 43 days from our start from Bay View Washington. We rode the bikes down the beach and into the ocean officially destorying our machines and completing the cannonball finale.

Flight from the Foilage

After the epic day of climb through the park, we road towards Asheville, NC and our final state - South Carolina. The day started with another brutal climb. One of the local folks called us "f***ing idiots" on the way up. I partially agreed with his assessment of the situation.

We climbed higher and higer continuing to shed layers as the day started at 35 degrees and peaked in the mid 70's. We finally hit the top of the pass and road a massive downhill through another terrible tourist city. Needing new calories stat, Dave found a great Italian restaurant. He ordered a spaghetti and meatball pizza. Fearing what that would entail, I just ordered the same but without the pizza format. The food came to the table, and Dave's pizza won the day. Definitely one of the best orders of the trip.

And then one of my favorite parts of the trip occurred. We were riding mostly in rolling hills, and we though we were finally out of the the mountains. That's when the best sign you can see on the road appeared. The sign beamed back at us due to the reflecton from our headlamps. The sign was a bright yellow diamond. It included the outline of a truck heading straight down at an angle with "4 miles" neatly printed below. This was an unexptected decent. It came out of nowhere and would proveto be the best downhill of my life. A full moon shined on the horizon and the last gasps of the sun provided just enough light to see the fall foilage. The road was consistently steep and windy. We maintained speeds well over 30 miles per hour and finally fell out of the last mountain range the United States of America had to offer.

We road deep into the night in order to set up for the grand finale. The people in South Carolina were the nicest since Nebraska. People gave us much needed encouragement and were genuinely excited about what our trip. It was late at night and their excitement only helped us get to where we needed to go. We talked to one family in a Subway gas station that even wanted their picture take with us. (If you are that family, please send us your email address. I would like to see that photo if possible and thanks again for helping us with a place to eat.)

The day ended 114.1 miles from our campsite in the park to Spartanberg, SC. A lot of hard miles, but The Berg would quickly become an unplanned launching pad as we prepared to get shot into the ocean.