Honor Roll!

This is a series of polaroids of the folks, or representatives of the folks, who let us sleep on their floors and couches, and shared their time and hospitality with us. THankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!!!!! And also to anyone who helped us out, and to the nice people we met, that made me think this little planet is a great place to live, THank YOu! Without further ado, the fotos!
Providence, RI: Thanks Max and Pidge (pictured) and Carl! Thanks to everyone who came out to the show!
Jefferson, MA: Thank you Rowan, Grey, Paula (already at work for the photo), Ben, and the entire Balance Rock school for sitting so intently through the set!
North Hampton, MA: Thank you Flan and Ten E house, so many good folks, so many names, so few braincells(me). Great fun on the roof!
Tivoli, NY: THanks Squeaks, your roomies were great! Keep on rockin' Maida, Jessie, and Abbie!
Hastings on Hudson, NY: Eliza and Slightly, thanks! and thanks to your awesome parents!
Brooklyn, NY: Sean Simone and Edgar, thank youse! thanks for transformers Edgar!
Philadelphia, PA: Ahhhh Solid Gold, THanks for the fun! And to all the Philly Pholk who came to the show, thanks!
Baltimore, MD: Meesh Meesh must represent all the good folks at the Copy Cat. THanks Rachel, Kit, Madeline, Ariel, Malcom!
Washington, D.C.:
Robbie and roomates! thanks!
Richmond, VA: Thanks infinitum Evan for taking us in without any references! Thanks Shelley, Ward, Erin, David, Bret, and Carol too! for showing us around VCU. Richmond is a knockout.
McClellanville, SC: THanks a billion Chauncey, Margaret, and WHitney, and all the animals!
Charleston, SC: THank you Lauren and Kim and Summer, you girls are great!
THanks Sam for puttin' up with all my wacky shit and for carrying the guitar, couldn't have made it without you!


Peace to all who read this!
stay tuned for info on the forthcoming Coyote Moon Children album!
to preorder one for your grandparents for the holidays, send your adress via email
burntgravy@gmail.com
Ta!

Stop Post!

Whoa WHoa WHOOOOOOAAAHHHH!!!!!!
Hold up, hold up. That's not really how we got home! Like we would end such an amazing journey with, "so we packed up the bikes and flew home"! Didn't go down like that, and we have the photos to prove it.
Alright, so we admittedly did pack up the bikes, and tried to go home, but when I said that our flight was canceled, it had actually burst into flames on the tarmac, apparently a spontaneous human combustion problem with the copilot. Unfortunately, at the time nobody knew that the copilot had a bad history with spontaneous combustion, and airport security began immediately questioning even remotely suspicious looking persons. Calling Sam and I remotely suspicious however was an understatement of the grimmest proportions. Perhaps it was a result of the climate of paranoia in our culture surrounding air travel, or perhaps it was our dark complexions from weeks and weeks on the road and in the sun, our scrabbly beards, and Sam's "I heart Obama" t-shirt, which had received a most unfortunate stain on the "b" in "Obama", that led to a massive security retaliation on our persons. Dog's were sicked, guns were drawn, and cruise missiles were fired. Sam and I beat a hasty retreat from the airport and hopped into a cab. The poor, oblivious cabby, of Lebanese descent, having no idea of the events that had just transpired, would be quickly implicated in whatever "plot" we were involved in, and certainly the authorities were already cooking up some beauties, to be sent to the Attorney General. When we got back to Charleston, we decided we needed to find new transportation to get us home for thanksgiving, and then out of the country. Keeping a low profile, we hired a local boy named Fitsy (for his frequent spastic fits of obscenities) to purchase what he could for fifty bucks. He came back with a beautifully ornamented but ultimately unsuitable children's bicycle, and a skateboard. We were pretty sure he had made a good profit on this deal. There was no time however to worry about this, as the chorus of sirens around the city was getting louder by the minute. Sam filched a helmet from a motorcycle parked in the street and, having chosen the skateboard, attached a rope to the bike. Fashioning a grappling hook from kudzu, bodyhair, and a garden claw, we began the arduous journey north, hooking rides behind 18 wheelers. We slept in ditches ate poison berries and drank fry grease from highway rest stop fast food joints. Our gloriously filthy and depraved return was documented by the local press (word having got out about our return, and unbeknownst to us, the charges against us had been dropped).







A new adventure awaits! Onward to the Moon!

Coming Home is Uphill

So after a week of sheer relaxation at Chauncey, Margaret and Whitney's house, Sam and I road our bikes down for the last time to Charleston, SC. It was a nice short ride, and we bought handwoven sweetgrass baskets on the side of the road for our mothers and/or grandmothers, as they are particularly fond of such things. Then we crossed the new and fancy suspension bridge over the river to Charleston. The wind was blowing so hard that on my left, a hawk was hovering, wings splayed, not moving in the air an inch, as if it were pinned there by invisible forces (come to think of it...). When we got to Charleston we road to Sam's cousin Lauren's house. She and her two roommates, Kim and Summer, were going to school in Charleston. The following day we putzed around Charleston until we could get some bicycle boxes from a local shop, and then we road with the boxes comically dangling from Sam's trailer, to a packaging center. The place was closing soonish, so in record time, Sam and I dismantled our bikes and packed them up, and soon they would be heading home. Free from our bikes we felt unfettered and alive, and skipped our way to a local watering hole, where we met a very nice middle aged couple who were originally from the midwest, but had taken a shine to the warmer weather. After a nice long talk with the couple whose names now I have sent to 90% of my brain that I don't use, nor would know how to if I could, Sam and I went back to Lauren's house. That night, Friday, we went out to a birthday party with Lauren's roommates (Lauren had flown out that morning to Ohio to see a football game, and had left Sam and I to the kind and helpful watch of Kim and Summer). The next day was to be the last day of our trip. THE LAST DAY! Kim and Summer so graciously gave us a ride to the airport, (so much kindness from people we had just met!). We bid them and Charleston adieu, and headed to our flight.
Of course our flight was cancelled. We got in to Boston and cold, wet, november weather late that night, and of course my bags were on another flight. Meh.
We were glad to be home, and alive!

The Filthy and the Furious(ly fast)

After Richmond, hills became non existent and we started making good time, which is nice since we were now in no-mans land. We headed east from Richmond, and stayed a night in the Okechobe State Park, the other side of the James from... Jamestown. Here's us on the Jamestown ferry.

After Okechobe, we headed west and were hit with intense winds that we found were coming off of former-hurricane Noel. Early that day we hit 1000 miles, Huzzah! This is where it went down.


We stopped our wind blown weary selves in a super8 in Chesapeake, on some god awful highway/stripmall we were travelling on. We went out that night to find a place to celebrate, with like hopes of finding anything but a chain restaurant. Low and behold however, right smackdab next to the super8 was a nice japanese restaurant. Noodles and warm sake could not have been better celebration! Next day we headed South toward Cape Hatteras, as the remnants of the hurricane were heading North. We found a nice campsite on Pamlico Sound in Kill Devil Hills.

Kill Devil Hills is not nearly as cool as it sounds. That town and Kitty Hawk are succumbing to rediculous condo developements and cheesy restuarants plopped on beautiful land like bug bites. I really don't understand how it's a selling point for restaurants to imply that their customers are morbidly obese yokels. Names like "FatBoys", "Tubby's", and "The Pigman" abound, with pictures of goggly eyed, portulent dunces, drooling over fried crab and what not. Not for snobbity ole me. Soon however, Hatteras turned into protected seashore, miles and miles of it untouched, with water on either side of the road, protected by dunes on either side, some which had broken on the ocean side in the Hurricane, covering roads with water. Our bikes got a bit too much salt on them our second day in Hatteras. We reached the elbow of hatteras and stayed at another campsite. After setting up camp, we went out to the light house, where apparently some of the best surfing on the east coast occurrs. That day was apparently a good day, because surfers were everywhere, and there folks with very nice cameras and tripods, I assume taking pictures for magazines. As we watch surfers get up on waves to the the left of us, they would be popping out of the surf on the right, as if the armies of Atlantis had finally staged an assault. After some hemming and hawing, Sam and I got down to our skeevies, to the chagrin of the fishermen next to us, and hopped in the trememdous surf. We could only get as far as our waists before the waves would knock us back twenty feet. Muy divertido!


Next day we made it to Ocracoke, but the ferry was leaving to late for us, so we stayed the night at a madcap redneck RV park. The front desk doubled as an outdoor bar, located under the owner's second floor deck, where he and his friends would have a few drinks at night. Fourty ounce bottles of malt liquor were under everybody's deck chair, and the neighborhood kids tooled around the park packed into a golf cart, being chased by the dogs. Our campsite was nice, and had tree that apparently had been used as target practice by circular sawblade throwers.



Once we set up, I had pry sam out of the tree with a stick. He hissed like a wild animal, but a few good whacks set him straight!


We woke up at 5:30 in the morning the next day and hopped on the 7 o'clock ferry, to Cedar Island. We made good time that day and got to the Cedar Point National Park or some-ott. More camping in the cold, the chills were really setting in, and we and our clothes were getting sour. The next day we hauled some more ass and got to Wilmington, NC, where a friend of Sam's, Dave Gessner, had agreed to leave a key in the door for us. At first we went the wrong house and checking under their mat. Fortunately no one was home, we looked rather suspicious, dressed all in black with black gloves..... hmmmm. But we found the place alright and weathered a cold night inside. Next day, we made it to the Hunington Beach State Park, a little South of Myrtle Beach, (another stripmall blackhole) after exactly 100 miles! Personal Records Rock! The few tents sites were all available, what with the cold, and they were very nice and secluded, a beautiful area in general. I was thinking that I would give it the best Campsite Award, but was conflicted, as were harrassed throught the night by some audacious Raccoon, Pokey, Okey, and Bert. Pokey and Okey would walk right up to me as if I was handing out food, and shooing them would only get them to move a few feet.

After hanging up our food and going to bed, the raccoons immediately set to work demolishing our handiwork. Finally I had to get up in my underwear and chase them off, and bring the food in.

The next day was our last to get to Sam's Uncle Chauncey's, our stated destination. We didn't have far to go, so we stopped in Georgetown, and ate at the Rice Paddy, which we found out later, Sam's cousin Whitney works at some nights. Then we got some coffee at a cool upstairs shop called the humidor, which was just a refurbished apartment with a beautiful porch over the water. We got into Mclellanville in the Afternoon, Finally! Chauncey's house and property is awesome. Horses, dogs cats, giant Live Oaks, and plenty of land. Sam and I are now taking it easy until Saturday, when we fly home from Charleston. I'll probably update a few more times, keep checking!

The Old House

Live Oaks



The Tool Shed



The new house, almost done.


My little Pony

Richmond Recycles!

After waking up in freezing sleeping bags, on what day I have no recall, Sam and I packed up frost covered gear, dressing as warm as we could, we ventured to the maintenance office of the Potomac River Crossing bridge. We were in luck this time and the office called the road crew to come pick us up, no problem. In five minutes were in Virginia and on our way. We hadn't been planning much at this point, and didn't have anywhere to stay for a few hundred miles, so we decided to check out Richmond. When we got to richmond we grabbed a bite, it was around 3:00 pm, and found a few places to check out in the area, one being a coffee shop with good vegan fair. It would turn out that there is good vegan food all over Richmond. Richmond: 1 point. Since we had some time before dark, we thought that we could ply our wandering minstrel skills and find a free bed for the night, or a yard to tent upon. We headed to the coffee shop, thinking it the best place to find people inclined towards wayward travellers. I at first was too chicken to out and out ask strangers if we could stay with them, so while Sam was sipping coffee, I made a sign and went out to the street to with my guitar.

I made up a concise song to go along with the sign, but it wasn't short or to the point enough, and most people passed me by. I finally just started asking straight up, and a few folks tried to call friends that they thought would have room, but couldn't get in touch. One friendly girl named Carol, who seemed rather unphased by the strange request, took our numbers and said she would search about and get back to us. Finally a fellow suggested a bike shop nearby, where we might find employees sympathetic to bicycle adventurers. We headed to the Bunny Hop bicycle shop on Broad St. The young fellow who owned the shop wanted to help us, but was in a tight spot himself as far as lodging, so he directed us to another bike shop nearby that would be a good bet, Recycles. Richmond has apparently, a large bicycling community. Richmond: 2 points. A nicely drawn map led us right to the place. We had high hopes when we pulled up and they were not disappointed. Evan, the owner of the shop had to think for a minute about whether his roommates would mind a couple of stinky bikers, and then I offered that we had tents and a back yard would also do. Evan told us that the back yard would definitely work, and that we would probably be fine in the house too. We were releived, as it was getting on evening, Sam and I are reverse vampires. Evan then related to us how coincidental our arrival was, because in the back of his shop was a fellow named Charlie who was on a world bicycle tour, starting from Wisconsin, and had stopped by that afternoon to see if he could use the shop's equipment. Charlie came out and we talked for a bit about bikes and such, showing him our junk. He was on his way to Norfolk, Virginia, to see if he could get a job on an ocean going ship that would bring him to Europe or Africa. He was absolutely against taking a plane. Here's to you Charlie! I hope his journey is going well. this, I believe is his ejournal thingy.

http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/black_leopardstealth

more good animal medicine!
Evan was closing his shop around this time, and so we bid Charlie good luck and farewell, and followed Evan and his dog trouble to his house. Now I don't know if any of you out there have been to Richmond before, but on this short ride I about fell in love with it. The sun was just dipping behind trees, making everything seem conjured, as kids ran through the streets and neighbors talked to each other on the porches of small but beautiful old houses, stacked so close together that some you could barely slide a piece of paper between. Richmond: A billion points. We met a few of Evan's roommates and after walking through a sad but beautiful, painted front door.

Then we went with Evan to eat at spot just around the corner, 821 somethinorother. Once again great, cheap food. Afterwhich we caroused the neighborhood, meeting all sort of folk, a number of whom were bmx'ers. Evan had been competing in bmx contests until recently, when he had hurt himself pretty badly and was now focusing on Recycles. We ended our night hanging out in Evans living room with his rowdy roommates, who were surely subdued, it being a weeknight. We enjoyed it so much that the next day we asked Evan if we could stay another night, Halloween night! We had brought my maskes, and it seemed a shame to spend halloween by ourselves in a campsite. So Evan went to work and left us with a detailed, hand drawn map of Richmond, with good sights labelled. We got some breakfast and checked out the basement, which had been converted into a tight quarters skatepark. I tried my best, but the ramps required a bit of getting used to.




I fell alot. Next we headed to Belle Isle, in the middle of the James River, which had housed an old hydro-elecric among other things, that was shut down when coal and gas became cheaper. Bummer. It was accessed by a foot bridge that was suspended under the highway.


Lots of preeetty views of the river and decaying industrial sites, etc. ect.



Sam and I moseyed all over Richmond until evening, and met up with Evan, his girlfriend Erin, her sister Shelley, and her boyfriend Ward, at the house. Sam noticed that Ward was wearing a Worcester Earn a Bike shirt, and we were like whoa! We know that place! and Ward was like, "Whoa, you know Grey?" and we were like, "Yaaahh!" Then Ward told us that he and Shelley had a bus up the street, which I had noticed earlier, as it was covered in graffiti that read "Mo' Book, Mo' Bike, Mobile". They had started this non profit a year or two ago, and it simply gave out books and fixed bikes for free! They had already done a couple of tours with it. Wow!

here is there link:

www.bookonwheels.com

Shelley, Erin and Ward were dressed for halloween as characters from Windy City Heat, a comedy central production, which they showed Sam and I so that the references would be understood.

Evan's costume was more aesthetic than referential, though he mentioned a fellow around town that dressed quite like his costume.

We hung out on the porch and handed out candy to the neighborhood kids until we ran out, and then went up the street to meet the parade, being put on by the legendary Bread and Puppet Theatre. Lots of shouting and Carousing ensued. Beautiful costumes and and Puppets danced down the street to the tune of two marching bands, and one marching bluegrass troupe. Erin and her megaphone, for her Bobcat Goldthwait costume, were commandeered by a drunken reveller with few teeth to shout across the street, "Maybelene, it's the Police!"

After a bit of this we rode our bikes en masse to the Camel on Broad st., where Evan's bike club/gang was putting on a halloween show. Evan was riding an awesome childs bike with an old school skateboard deck for a seat, and handlebars that went up to his shoulders. Action shot!

Sam and I put donned our masks under the black light.


I got crazy to some spazzy hardcore. Here is the band Apeshit.

Towards midnight we went home to lay weary heads to sleep. Around two in the morning we were woken up by a an excited and drunk roommate, still feeling the effects of the pagan holiday. He jumped and banged about and talked to us for a while, he was quite an entertaining fellow, but we proved to bad conversaters, what with our groggy disposition, and he eventually went back to his dungeon, to god knows what machinations, and we went back to bed. The next day we said good by to Evan and the sleeping house, thanked him and headed out. But not before Sam tried out Evan's crazy bike. A thousand thanks you's Evan, Erin, Mike, Brett, Shelley, Ward, and the Madman with the handlebar moustache, long hair and glasses, I have forgotten your name (sam'll know). Richmond: A bajillion million Points!

Sam and I headed to the coffee shop where our adventures all started, and got some breakfast for the road. When we were there, I recognized Carol in a booth, Carol had said she would call us, and she did, but we had already found Evan and Co. Sam and I sat down with Carol and her friend, whose name eludes me, and had our breakfast. The two were art students at VCU, and they offered to show us around their studios. We had time to kill, so we agreed. We saw the glass and ceramics studios and some cool stuff going on. Seems there is a healthy student community at VCU. After the the tour, we said goodbye, i left a cd at a special dropoff, hopefully Carol and her friend found, and we hit the road. Thanks guys!
Richmond, Adieu, Adieu!