I'd like to thank everyone for their constant interest and support in our cause. Please check out our latest video and spread the word that although the trip has been over for quite some time, the Biking for Nashville guys are back at it!

Sincerely,

  Ryan Hawkins

Please stay tuned as we continue to post videos and photographs, as well as update you on the status of our documentary, which we anticipate will be completed within the upcoming year. 

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As fate would have it, the sand dunes, which line the coast of Florence, Oregon blocked the coastline from our view. In fact, we had to muster up the strength to ask a man who was taking his dog for an early morning walk if the Pacific was in fact over the large sand dune, which we decided to stop at. Like hundreds of others before him, he was quite confused by the scene we created with our cameras, especially that early in the morning, but he decided to watch as the cyclists lifted their bikes over their shoulders and shuffled straight up the dune toward the water. 

Caveman kept up with them with the camera, as Tommy and I stayed behind at the top of the dune with another one. We had been pretty meticulous about making sure the battery of our primary camera was charged throughout the majority of the previous 55 days, but ironically, it only had about 12 minutes left at the final moments of our journey. As anxiety set in in our minds, and the physical consequences of biking 200 miles, then suddenly stopping began to take affect on the riders, we reached the top of the hill and could see the ocean. Of course, the ocean was well over 200 yards from the top of the dune, so the journey continued as we were forced to hike to the water. 

For two months, we had anticipated this moment and anticipated a series of celebratory cheers and high fives. We'd even plotted out, to some extent, a series of final interviews with which we would gather inspirational and conclusive remarks from our cyclists, which would sum up the entire journey. However, as Jesse, Finney, and Pierce dipped their front tires into the water and collapsed onto the sand, there really wasn't much to say. So, we kept the camera on them as they closed their eyes, then pointed it out towards the ocean.

We all remained completely silent as the camera battery died, and that was all there was to it. 

As our drifter friend, Richard always said, "it's about the journey, not the destination."

For fifty-six days we headed due west, until we hit the ocean and couldn't go any farther. That's all it was.

For some reason it wasn't until after the sunset and darkness fell over us that highway 20 came alive. Half the state of Oregon sped by us at already unsafe speeds and many of the riders flipped us the bird or hollered at us to "get off the road" as we chugged along. Since we have two chase cars, we devised a system in which one member of the film crew would drive the van in front of the cyclists, while the other two would follow behind in the truck and cast their headlights across the road so our camera could pick them up. Just like all of the other sticky situations we encountered along our journey, which required us to screen traffic with one or both of our chase cars, we were very fortunate to have the "Biking for Nashville" decal on the back of the truck to earn a little bit of sympathy from the enraged passers by.

For fear of stiffening up or otherwise losing their edge, the three cyclists refused to stop for more than a minute or two at a time. As the hours passed by, they burned calories like they never had before and forced themselves to fight through the insane pain, which was building up in their legs.

Pierce was having the most difficult time. At first, he merely mentioned that he was struggling, alluding to his inexperience at each stop. However, as the night dragged on we could see that his situation was much more dire than he was ready to admit. There was an indescribable emptiness in his eyes that more than complimented the manner in which he slurred his words and failed to respond to simple questions. At one point, Tommy tested him on US state capitols to insure that he wasn't entirely detached. Pierce acknowledged him, but then fell face first on the hood of the truck and nearly fell off of his bike when he attempted to push on.

The guys refused to stop fighting and we could only watch and travel along side them as they crawled down the highway at top speeds of 4 to 5 miles per hour. Jesse and Finney nevertheless tried to keep the groups' spirits high and often times seemed to have more energy than the film crew.

We pressed on despite the danger and despite our weary minds. The guys even managed to get one last run on an interstate, in the middle of the night, as if the events of the evening weren't dangerous enough.

At one point however, it appeared as though Pierce couldn't make it any farther. We stopped in the parking lot of a closed down restaurant in the Oregon hillsides to give him a break, and he collapsed on the pavement in a sitting position and instantly fell asleep. Tommy threw open the back of the van and Finney and Jesse had to practically carry Pierce and throw him down in the prone position so that he could take a brief nap before they pushed on. After thirty minutes, Finney woke up Pierce and we hit the road again, light poured through the trees.

The rising fun gave us a newfound energy as we pushed hard for the coast, which was now no more than 16 miles away.

It didn't take Jesse very long to convince us all that it was a good idea. After all we'd been through as a team, we really couldn't think of any reason why we shouldn't put our noses to the asphalt and try something completely stupid and dangerous. The majority of the contention came from Pierce, who had only been training for two weeks or so, compared to the two months that Finney and Jesse had been on the road. Needless to say, he wasn't happy with the decision to go for the ocean, but he quickly changed his attitude once he realized that he really didn't have a choice. Jesse and Finney eased his mind as much as they could by reminding him that they are a team and no matter what they will wait for him and make sure to all finish together.

We took our time with our supper, crossed the street to stalk up on Red Bulls and "healthy snacks," then hit the road with all the mild mannered fire that a group of wreckless guys who were sick of being on the road for as long as they had could muster up.

We got back to Chet and Brenda's just in time to have some breakfast before heading out. Originally, we intended on making our way to Eugene, then making our way from Eugene to the coast the following day, but Jesse and Finney were wearing quite thin. Despite the fact that Pierce seemed to prefer the idea of taking their time to make it to the coast, Jesse and Finney were extremely anxious to be done. However, since none of the three cyclists could really agree on any one plan of attack, they set out west at 9am without any particular destination in mind. 

A couple hours later, as we were taking a break, Jesse approached the group with his plan to make it to the coast... that same night. Considering how, from where we sat, we were still almost 200 miles from the coast, we thought he must've been kidding. Of course, he wasn't and as we approached the Three Sisters volcanoes and headed through the cascade mountains, we were all preparing ourselves for our all-night pedal-trek to the Pacific. 

We also met yet another cross-country cyclist who was on the last leg of his trip and headed to Florence, all though his plan was to take a couple of days to do it like any other sane person would. 

We used Pierce's van to provide a draft for Jesse and Pierce and needless to say, it was quite effective. Following no more than five feet or so behind the van, Jesse hit a top speed of 47 mph and eventually pulled way ahead of Pierce. Caveman sat in the back of the van with the doors open and the camera on the floor, so we got an amazing sequence of shots in which Jesse dictated his speed, entirely amazed with himself every time he gained another 5mph or so. We followed him down an exhilarating downhill stretch before pulling away to film some yacks, which were randomly corralled by the side of the road.

Caveman held the camera right up to the yacks. We weren't sure if it was dangerous because the fence, which they were behind didn't seem very strong. As it turned out, it was dangerous. The yacks began to stir before charging at us in a threatening fashion. We held our ground with the beasts until a couple of nice ladies pulled up in a car and warned us not to get to close. They also informed us that they owned a couple of white buffalo, one of the rarest creatures on the planet, and invited us to return to get some shots of them...more on that later.

We met Finney and Tommy at breakfast and enjoyed one final meal and a chat with our good friend Richard, who gave us some great advice before slinging his gear on his back and continuing on his never-ending journey. We were all mesmerized by the aura that was his satisfied mind.

As Richard declared, he will continue to travel alone for the rest of his life, carrying everything he owns with him. He laughed to himself as he recalled people he has met who felt sorry for him, stating that "they feel worse about it than he does." Pierce gave him one of his favorite books as a parting gift and Richard wandered out of our lives like a phantom. We all agreed that the time we spent with our hitchhiking friend was very special and strangely gratifying.

After breakfast, we headed to Pierce's cousin, Chet's house. Although Pierce and Chet had never met, they instantly recognized one another as family and thus, so did we. They gave us name tags and invited practically the whole neighborhood and their entire immediate family over for a feast in our honor. Dinner was at 5pm, so that gave Jesse and Pierce time to go lay by the river while the rest of us returned to the Pine Mountain Ranch to see the white buffalo.

Our visit to the ranch turned out to be one of the most exciting endeavors we have undertaken along the way to the coast. Allan, the ranch manager, took us on a tractor guided tour of all of his unique livestock, with the white buffalo as the grand finale. Amazingly, Allan's ranch was selected to care for 11 of the 26 known white buffalo in the world. The white buffalo mingled freely with an extremely large herd of other buffalo and he let us get out of the truck and stand no less than 4 feet away from them. I managed to get so close with one, that it actually attacked me. It was an incredible rush and it was all caught on film ; ). Allan also gave us some of the ranches most select and exotic meats before we said our goodbyes.

That night we got to know Pierce's extended family a little better and enjoyed a great night's rest in their RV. 

We kept pace with the cyclists all the way to Hampton. As usual, we would pull ahead, set up a shot, wait for them to pass, then move on. Since we were in the middle of nowhere, this would have become extremely redundant and driven us insane had our hitchhiking friend, Richard not been with us to provide some source of entertainment. Richard told us all about his life on the road and showed us how he walks up and down the sides of highways looking for little trinkets that someone may have thrown out of their car or otherwise left behind for one reason or another. One man's trash is another man's treasure, I suppose. 

Our chase cars got to Hampton ahead of the cyclists and we quickly realized that there was nothing there. As a farmer moved some hay around off in the distance, we sat outside an abandon gas station and a cafe, which was apparently only open Thursdays through Saturdays. Eventually, the cyclists rolled up and after some discussion we decided there was no reason to stay the night in Hampton when there was still so much daylight left to burn. So, we cooked some spaghetti and headed off for the next town, which we all hoped would be civilized in some way or another. 

Of course, we were wrong. There was nothing in the next town but a truckers' rest stop so we had no choice but to set up some tents in the weeds beside the truck stop and hope that the highway patrol didn't find us. But Pierce did get to enjoy his first sunset ride so the whole experience wasn't a total loss. 

As we anticipated, there was absolutely nothing in between Juntura and Burns other than a single gas station. However, this gas station was very much unlike anything that any of us had ever seen in that it sextupled as a gas station/general store/tavern/junkyard/Native American Museum/authentic Native American jewelry mart. All by itself, this fantastical hole-in-the-wall establishment made up the entire town of Oards, Oregon and declaring it as "creepy" would be an understatement. Upon entering this lost realm, we were greeted by three old ladies who urged us to check out their "museum." Since we had the camera on hand, we were more than willing to explore what they had to offer and needless to say, we weren't disappointed. While Jesse shopped around for bird necklaces and Pierce and Richard waited outside in a skeptical state of displaced confusion, Finney seemed to lose himself amongst the non-correlated barbed wire and antique doll exhibits in a back room. 

After pausing outside of the museum to reflect on what we had just discovered, we pushed on to Burns and were fortunate enough to reserve a tent-site at an RV Park right before it filled up for the night and had plenty of time to kick back and work on our next teaser trailer. 

There were llamas nearby our campsite, in case anyone was concerned. 

The event will take place in Pasadena, California from 10pm-2am and will include live music, a slideshow, a speech or two, and great company. 

So no matter where you are going to be, make your way out to Los Angeles and hear our stories! Trust us...the world isn't as big as you think it is, you can make it there.