Well, now that the semester is nearly all said and done, I only rode my bike to school twice. Turns out I am more of a hiker than a biker (cyclist). People like Lance Armstrong and Mark Beaumont (cycled around the world) make it look so easy.

That link is a video of Mike Beaumont, that I could not figure out how to embed. I like the American Beauty music, it makes it feel epic.

They ride their bikes with grace and finesse over even the steepest incline, while for me, half way through and I’m ready to blow up the hunk of metal. In my defense, my hand me down bike was less than agile, with the gears always falling off, and the little kids in the neighborhood laughing at me, while I “fix” my bike and get grease on my face and hair process. This seems to be something that I cannot conquer blindly. There is also the hurdle of being hit by a car, that I am afraid to face.

The fact that I am bike challenged does not change the need for self-sustainability. So, to squelch the pain of failure, I am embarking on a new mission, that of having a garden and eating local and seasonal foods. While my cooking skills are questionable, I am certain I will be good at eating!

Suburban Hike

While hiking mountain after mountain is an individual experience of its own. Reading about the tree I passed, trail mix I ate, and the rock that was blue, can understandably get a bit tedious. A “hike” does not necessarily have to be exclusively on a mountainside. There is a rather large golf course by my house, if you are familiar with the campus, I am sure you have seen it a time or two. Well, after 5 years of living in Kennesaw, and a night of moderate alcohol consumption, we decided to brave the golf course; the oasis in the midst of our suburban reality. I have no idea the time frame of our gallivant, but it was dark outside. With a few back up beers in my pocket, we set out to unfold the mysteries of where the rich spend their leisure time. It was, from what I could tell, picturesque with its rolling hills and pristine grass. I’m sure if it were light out, we could have seen our footprints behind us as we tousled the manicured lawns. We ducked as every car passed fearing that we would be found trespassing, and have to be retained in country club jail. For Chase, that made this hike a little terrifying, while for me it was invigorating. We walked down the “trail” to the lake, right past the country club where we could have surely been spotted if someone merely glanced out the window. Luckily, our stealth moves went unnoticed as we crept by. We could see people in their houses, preparing dinner and watching TV. At one point a man saw us from his kitchen window as he was, presumably, doing his dishes. So, Chase made me dump my beers in the nearest trashcan, which was a cryin’ shame. The “trail” (sidewalk, or whatever it is they drive their little golf carts on) led us down to a pier where ducks and frogs laid not so quietly in the reeds. This brought us back to the road in the neighborhood; back to civilization. Now I know why those guys like golfing so much.

Pine Mountain

On a particularly dreary Sunday morning, I was less than ecstatic about getting out of bed and venturing into the misty, sprinkling woods. After meeting Ashley for a steaming cup of coffee, we lent our blankets to the cats in favor of chilling mountain air. The best way I can describe Pine Mountain is a combination of Narnia with Sleepy Hollow.

The rocks were huge and purple, while the trees stood mostly barren except for layers of light green moss. Leaves covered the ground, hiding sticks and rocks forcing us to be overly cautious on the trails.

Ashley wanted to hike the whole trail, which equaled approximately 4 miles, up the eastern side, then down the western side, back up the other side (at this point I was lost), around some rocks,past a tree, then up to the peak, and back down to the beginning. The peaks and rocks had awesome Native American names, which I, unfortunately, cannot recall. Being used to the worn paths of Kennesaw Mountain, this hike seemed like uncharted territories. It was comforting to see fellow hikers who were probably the nicest people I have ever had the pleasure of passing. Perhaps it’s the fresh air, or Cartersville is the most pleasant city in America. This hike was certainly strenuous, and even though it was approximately 50 degrees outside Ashley and I had stripped down to the bare necessities. But the view from the top was worth it.

I’m afraid this picture does not do it much justice, because it was like standing on the top of the world. After, our picnic of bananas and fruit snacks, we began the slow decent homeward.

Atlanta Bike Culture

The first time I met my friend Frank, he had about 30 stitches in his forehead. He had been riding his bike back home from the grocery store, when a driver that failed to use his bliker, hit him and Frank went straight through the windshield. Because he was wearing a helmet, all he suffered was a huge cut on his forehead. The majority of the times I see him, he is bandaged in some way.

Bike culture is becoming in vogue in Atlanta. A cycling event called Critical Mass, calls cyclists to come together to bike the streets of Atlanta, usually on Halloween, without any streets being blocked off, bravely (or stupidly) defying natural traffic laws, there are numerous injuries, but that is a risk these devoted cyclists will make to have themselves heard.

Atlanta is infamous for traffic and parking problems.So, cycling is seen as a solution and many companies are willing to support it. For example, at a Falcons game the Atlanta Bicycle Coalition (ABC) provided a bike valet, where fans could ride their bikes to the dome and park for free. ABC advocates for a Bike-Friendly Atlanta, they plan to set goals for investments in bicycle infrastructure and adpot a "Complete Streets" policy to make the streets safer and more accepting of all modes of transportation. ABC also hopes to serve as a resource for future cyclists offering classes in navigation and bicycle issues, tools for selecting the best bike route and keeping the public abreast of various cycling events. The coalition seems to be having a lot of success these days, as the city of Atlanta endorses NACTO's urban bikeway design guide, and shared bike ways where built in Marietta on Wylie and Marietta street.

A majority of the public is still hesitant (understandably) to intermingle with other traffic, but continued efforts will be made to promote a bike-safe city.

Pigeon Hill

Near Kennesaw Mountain, past some old farming plantations, we find the leisurely Pigeon Hill Trail. Pigeon Hill is one of the many trails that sprinkles the area, extending onto Pigeon Mountain. On my trek, we were only able to go as far as the bridge, that has been newly restored from a rickety wooden bridge to a sturdy cement bridge:

Which was approximately 2 miles into the hike. My friend, Carusi, told me an eerie story about one of his past hikes on the trail, where he had, again, gone off the beaten path. Where he was met by a random man in the woods, whom he did not hear coming. They chatted for a minute about the weather, and then the man vanished into the autumn woods without a noise, no crackle of leaves or broken stick beneath him. Carusi could not remember how the man was dressed, but he said it was nothing extremely memorable (I was hoping he would recall a confederate uniform or something.) Perhaps, this incident is proof that that ghost stories of Kennesaw Mountain are more than just stories.

Kennesaw Mountain

Kennesaw Mountain is one of my favorite places to go hiking. With networks of trails and historical resonance, it offers a new discovery every time. This time I went with my buddy Carusi, who is an uncontrollable trail blazer. No amount of “stay on the trails” or “beware of bears” signs can keep him confined, and this sign we crossed left him unphased;

So of course, we veered off the path after locating a mark (a knife mark, in true trailblazer fashion) he had left on a tree and started trekking over fallen logs and mounds which I felt certain housed entire families of ravenous rattle snakes. Trenches had been dug into the mountain side during the civil war to shelter confederate soldiers, and the altered landscape remains. It looked like giant stairs had been carved into the mountain. In these uncharted territories, I was certain we were going to find some old bones or civil war relics, but all we stumbled upon were old Gatorade bottles and mason jars which had been thrown off the road, which was rather disappointing. This was not the first time I had hiked Kennesaw Mountain, so I was not expecting anything out of the ordinary this time, but Carusi led me a ravine surrounded by vertical stone walls,that was truly off the beaten path;

In this picture, he is attempting to climb, but THANKFULLY a spring in the rock made it too slippery. Carusi has never been afraid of breaking a limb, and I, certainly, was not going carry his mangled body back to civilization.

We also saw a family of dear, which I unfortunately was unable to capture on my camera, but this is a common occurrence on this mountain, as I see them almost every time I am here.

My favorite part of Kennesaw Mountain is the view. Once you have reached the top, (by driving or hiking) one can see clear to Atlanta and even stone mountain on a good day.

And from the other side,

Kennesaw Mountain is not only a network of well-maintained paths, but, also, a wild life preserve and historic treasure. It has a free museum down at the bottom, which depicts the battle that took place on that land, as well as all the civil war artifacts that were found. Here is a good website for more information on Kennesaw Mountain trails .

When molehills become mountains

This morning, I woke up extremely early in anticipation of the task at hand, riding my bike to school, and I needed plenty of time to prepare. I got my books loaded in my backpack, ate a light breakfast, and hit the road (not literally, at least not yet.) I wheel my little brother’s childhood bike onto the front lawn, and set out anticipating a leisurely jaunt. At first, it was exhilarating feeling the wind blow through my hair as I zoom down the sidewalk outside my neighborhood, diligently watching for cars and children. Feeling that everything is right in the world, birds are chirping, the sun is shining and taking the curves like a champion cyclist, until my euphoria is halted by a mammoth hill that has interrupted my cycling daydream. The top of the hill seemed to be lost in the clouds, and numerous climbers had lost their lives attempting to tackle this monstrosity. There is no other way to get to class on time than over this hill, so over this hill I go. My legs began to burn and each push of the peddle felt like I was riding my bike through quick sand, and I was slowly sinking to my death. Even though I had to get off and walk the last few feet, there is no sense of victory as strong as when I made it to the top, and look down as if off the edge of a cliff, with a sigh of relief. When I finally arrived at campus, I was dripping with sweat and my skirt, which had gotten caught in the gears at one point, was covered in oil. Defeated, I went to class, only to have to do it again on the way home. Luckily, this time, while others would be great on the turn around, my nemesis hill will feel like flying.

Manifesto

There is a lot of talk about being “green” these day. Recycling, vegetarianism, and carbon foot prints flooding the media and creating a new identity for our generation of social responsibility. Of course, I am no more immune than anyone else to these subliminal (and blatant) messages of “going green.” After a recent study abroad stint in Germany, where they are extremely and inspiringly environmentally conscious (If I were a senator or law maker of some kind, I would take a hint from the Germans), I gathered the last of my change, that was not squandered on beer and donuts, and purchased a bicycle. It may not seem elaborate compared to an electric car, or other corporate “green” campaigns, but it has definitely proven life-threatening a time or two. Go big or go back to burning fossil fuels!

My first undertaking is biking approximately 2 miles (daily) to school.