Central Coast double

Back up the coast for a ride! Central Coast DC is the last of the stage races and a beautiful route on top of that. Paso Robles, the starting point, is an odd town that is a mix of yuppies, rednecks and college kids. Not sure what to make of it. We find a construction site across the street from the park in the center of town starting point to sleep in. Wake up to the sounds of roadies clicking out of their shoes. We hop the fence in the back and carry our sleeping bags to the car discreetly. We have to sign ourselves in to leave on time with the main group. We stick with the ‘main’ lead group all the way to the first check point, after two decent climbs.

Heading north on the PCH is beautiful. Rolling hills, ocean views, all that stuff. The big climb is right off the coast, 8 miles up and over the mountain range to HWY 1. I take off my helmet and decide to push. Start passing people pretty consistently; but that is not as impressive as it sounds because we had taken too long at the checkpoints and were totally sandbagging it. After the downhill is lunch. Morgan shows up later than anticipated: he had flatted. We decide to split up.

Oh yeah I had bonked on the flat about 2 miles before lunch and had to get pulled in by some guy after a group I had passed on the hill overtook me. This was my first experience with truly bonking: just could not muster the energy to go a decent speed. After lunch I was still recovering and was not feeling so strong. I bunny hopped the cattle guard and a group behind me was quite impressed. We hit some headwinds and I was feeling stronger so I pushed on. When I’d pass people they’d jump on and ride in my draft. Pulled for about 5 miles and was a little annoyed that no one else jumped ahead. Even on the 49 MPH downhill people stayed right on my rear tire. Made a turn out of the wind and there is only one person behind me! He thanks me graciously and I am stoked he was appreciative. We chat for awhile as I recover.

Morgan claims this was my first ride at roadie speed. I’m very happy with my time and felt strong at the end of the 211 miles. Morgan gets in after me and I had already changed and found out that the meal did not have one vegetarian dish. Blah. We found a school to sleep at (my experience at the X-games in 1997 taught me not to sleep in the open, but Morgan did not and got caught in the sprinklers) and got a full 8 hours sleep. Stopped in San Luis Obispo at a rad coffee shop, promoted BikeSummer there and then again in Santa Barbara before heading back to LA.

Running? DTLA 10k

My first running race! After the 109-mile ride the day before it was easy for me to crash out early and get about 8 hours sleep before the early starting time. In the morning it is basic logistics that almost keep me from going to downtown for the start. Where am I going to put my wallet? What about food? I decided to wear a cycling jersey and use the pockets in the back. Later, when I described to actual runners that I had brought 2 Clif bars and a Clif shot, it dawned on me how I was over-prepared. Topped off my gear with my yellow Campy hat.

Riding through downtown on an early Sunday morning, with roads closed for the race, was an experience in itself! Roll up, lock my bike, and I feel like I am in gym class in high school. Till someone proves different I say that running does not have the subculture feel that cycling has. Pay my money, safety pin on my number and mill about eating the free food. We are called to the start and someone sings that patriotic song that they do before baseball games. WTF? I turn my back. Then we are off!

All the shit in my pockets is bouncing up and down and I am worried something will pop out. For sure it is exhilarating to run through DTLA with a bunch of people on closed roads. Mile one passes and my time is 8 minutes and 6 seconds. Since I started running this year I have not timed myself so this number seems okay. The homeless people are cheering us on. At the first water ‘hand-off’ or whatever I try to drink and choke on the water. No more drinking for me. Mile 2 and I am at 16 min and 15 seconds. The course is a 5K loop that I’ll do twice. Mostly flat, but heading south is a slight decline and then the obvious incline as we turn back to the start point. My 5K time is 25 minutes and something. Feeling confident. Legs are fine and I am keeping my pace at the point where I am still able to breath normally. Oddly I am passing people despite having to stop and tie my shoes. The heat is kicking in under the sun. At mile 4 or so I end up next to some guy and we pace together for awhile.

I had decided that at mile 5 I’d pick up my pace to where I could comfortably push hard. This is about where the slight incline starts and I drop the other guy. Passing people pretty regularly it reminds me of how we always sandbag on double centuries and it gives us the false impression of being fast. About a mile from the end I look down and both my shoes are untied. Fuck it. My chest is feeling the extra speed but legs are holding on. Sweat runs down my face as the sun sneaks between the DTLA skyscrapers. I round a turn, people are cheering us on, and this one woman refuses to let me pass and we cruise across the finish together with a time of 49 minutes and 5 seconds. Sweet. My goal time was 50 minutes. Stretched out my legs, ate as much free food as possible, stuffed Clif bars into my jersey pockets, picked up my free shirt and got on my bike to ride home.

I felt well the rest of the day and am stoked on my first race. Has opened my eyes to the possibilities with running. Hope to sign up for some more runs and take this more seriously. 10K and longer are feasible due to my experience with long distance cycling, it is getting fast, just like with cycling, that will be the difficult part.

Different Spokes Century

The crew is out and about. Morgan and Max spend the night at the A-House in prep for the 730am start time of the Different Spokes Mulholland Century. This ride is a serious marker for Morgan and I; last year it was not only our first organized ride, but it was the ride where I found out about double centuries. This time last year I was searching the CA Triple Crown site in fascination that people regularly rode 200 miles…and then I started to prepare for the next ride on the calendar: The Mt. Tam DC. Here I am 9 completed (and 1 DNF) DC’s later. And a new road bike with matching outfit. How far we have come! On last year’s ride I couldn’t decide if I could even wear spandex.

Off in Max’s biodiesel Benz with two bikes on the roof and two on the back. A-House member and seasoned bike tourist, Allen Bleyle, decided to face the early morning and come along with us. With metal blaring from Metal Brad’s mix tape we roll up the park at 720am. Almost on time! We say hello to the people we know (crazy that we know people) and get our bikes sorted. Okay, an 8am start is pretty close to on time.

We lose Allen pretty early on trying to keep pace with Max. Then on a downhill Max flats. I give him my tube and my pump (in crew fashion he forgot his pump, seat bag and heart rate monitor at my house) and tell him to catch Morgan and I when he gets it fixed up. So for the next 10 or so miles we expect him to come rolling on us, but in the end, he never catches us. I almost feel bad, but I really thought that he’d catch us!

Morgan and I are making great time on a route we are now familiar with. Actually passing people and being quick at the check points (cause they are check points, not rest stops). The other riders are mostly people who are doing, or have done, the SF-LA Aids Life Cycle ride. For some this 107 miles marks the furthest they have ever ridden. We are big fish in a small pond. We have come such a long way and it is kind of consuming me as I ride the 12-mile climb up from the PCH on Mulholland. This climb is so much fun. We push at the top. Some sprint stuff (cause you know, it is only 107 miles). I see a group at the top in the shade and I ask if that is the checkpoint and they tell me, ‘We’re all just tired!’ At least 8 people chillin. Well, not really chillin cause it was sickeningly hot (someone said it hit 100?). Lemonade not far from there. Then the remaining 10 miles, the same 10 that were brutal just one year ago. We finish and are stoked. One of the first groups to come in from the century. My odometer is 2 miles up cause after going down Petrero Rd, a sick climb that we did on the Mulholland DC, and that we will do on the Grand Tour, we decided to go back up!

A little while later the SAG vehicle shows up and Allen is inside. Oh no! Ends up his knee was really bugging him and his hand was going numb. Then he tells us that he hasn’t ridden more than 40 miles in the last year. Crazy. Then Max comes rolling up all red faced. The heat had hit him hard, but he pushed through and finished strong. Crew is chillin with other riders and the main discussion is in regards to my jersey, the Devil Mt DC, that exclaims, ‘I did it one day!’ I say discussion, but really I mean everyone made fun of it for awhile until we decided we had to get in the car. And then sit in traffic. But good thing I have Vegan Express’s number in my phone cause I called ahead and we got a big order to go. Made it to the BikeSummer meeting almost on time and then got to sleep early in order to get up for the DTLA 10K on Sunday.

Toughest double century? Devil Mountain

6pm on Wednesday, May 27th and the Death Valley crew is on it’s way to Davis. Well, Morgan had a paper or some shit for Thursday so he flew up to Sacramento that night and Emilio, Megan, and I (and Morgan’s bike) piled in the rental hybrid off to Davis. First stop is Glendale to drop off the disk for BikeSummer newsletter two (which I would spend part of the next couple of days on my cell phone trying to coordinate the details of). Then DelTaco.

We left on Wednesday night cause I had to work in Sacramento on Thursday (so work paid for some of the rental car!). Meanwhile Megan and Emilio chilled in Davis; possibly the most bike friendly city ever. There is a graphic of a bike on the city emblem! That night we met up with Temra, my partner in having a full-time job based on our politics. Thai food, coffee, chillin. Friday morning Morgan and I did a quick 20-mile spin, dropping Temra off at work on the way, while the other kids cooked up a hearty California breakfast. Drove to Oakland, then BART with bikes over to SF for vegan ice cream and Critical Mass. CM was out of control; fist fights and some dude who drove through a group of cyclists and continued on despite one of them being on his hood! SF don’t play around. Permanent image on my brain of a guy on the hood of a car smashing the windshield with his bike as the car sped off.

The Devil Mountain Double Century starts at fucking 5am. Setting an alarm for 345am at 1215am is humorous. We probably would of even started on time if it wasn’t for getting lost. The stupid road had two different road signs! So we missed the group start and didn’t get out till about 540am. This ride was put on by the Quack cyclists, the same group who did the Knoxville ride Matt Pro and I got lost at on my birthday. I joked with them about not getting lost and they handed me a bandana with a map on it! Was getting this printed a direct result of Matt Pro and I getting lost last year at Knoxville? Funny either way.

First climb up Mt Diablo is EPIC. A serious mental challenge. I started to question the feasibility of my completing this ride (did I mention this is the hardest double in CA at 207 miles and 20,000 ft of elevation gain?). The ‘racers’ started at 6am and passed us soon after at a pace that I would consider inhuman. The first person done with this DC finished in under 12 hours, shattering the previous record. Finally make it to the first checkpoint at the summit at roughly 4000 feet. The descent is invigoratingly fast. My new bike takes turns at unbelievable speeds, even with my teeth chattering and my hands shaking from the cold. Next climb is aptly named Morgan Territory and we finally start to catch some people, despite Morgan’s bike and its noises.

As the morning moves on we are enjoying ourselves more. Our pace picks up and my mind drifts from the physical demands of the ride to the scenery. The Mt. Hamilton climb begins as rain starts to drizzle from the sky. The hill winds along the mountain, with the valley continuously on our right as we look up to see other cyclists pushing on. About an hour of climbing before we reach the top. Luckily the rain has stopped, but it is cold enough to need arm warmers for the fast (fast!) descent. Even at the next rest stop I am still shaking from the cold.

Before night falls, around mile150, we hit Sierra Road. Steep, unrelenting, and over three miles long. Afterwords Morgan takes a picture with a goat while giving the international punk/metal sign. After dark we ride with a group, cover some more fucking hills, then start the last 10 miles of the 207. Morgan is seeing trails of light from other riders. I worry we are going to crash the car on the drive home, but then I can’t remember where we hid the keys. We safely roll into the hotel at 1145pm, after 18 hours of cycling. We make jokes about clif bars and warm Gatorade, I pick up the ridiculous jersey (that you only get if you finish!), we find the keys and drive back to Oakland. Crash out on the floor and the next day we drink coffee, eat vegan Chinese food and drive back to LA. Road trips rule and make riding the toughest double century in CA even more fun. Thanks kids.

Mulholland double century

‘’That was a spiritual odyssey,’ said Morgan after an early afternoon climb that we had just struggled up. People were actually walking their bikes up this monster hill. Just one of many. A great first ride for me and my new Seven! My bike was together a couple of days earlier, and a small problem was fixed the night before at the shop. New shoes and pedal system, new shorts and jersey; I am stoked! Pics posted soon.


We knew this ride was going to be difficult, but it was far from our minds as we grubbed Indian food with the crew the night before. This ride was just outside LA so we slept at home the night before and borrowed a car to get out there. Morgan started off smoothly by forgetting his helmet and then losing the chip you turn in to prove that you started. In his defense we had less than four hours sleep.

The group start was brilliant as we headed down Las Virgenes through the tunnel and onto the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway for y’all on the East Coast). The group split when we hit Topanga Canyon and started climbing back into the mountains. We held up pretty well and then Morgan and I got separated. Turned on some crazy side road and climbed another 1000 or so feet before descending back down to the coast. This was one of those roads that hugs the mountains and seems to drift over the ocean from above. Stunning. I was laughing as I flew down at 35 MPH…

Climbing, climbing, climbing. Loving my bike. Morgan, still riding the bike he found at a bus stop, ended up bonking hard in mid afternoon (not long after we were pulled over for running stop signs). Got some food in him and we set out from the last check point before Balcolm Canyon at mile 125. A roadie had chatted us up earlier and merely laughed when we mentioned this climb. Someone referred to it as a ‘novelty’ climb. My 39-27 was barely turning as I grinded up it. Back to the coast again before the climb up Mulholland from the PCH. This is the route I once drove over in a convertible…

We just barely finished the big descent before dark. Push push push…to the climb we knew was coming: Stunt road. At least it wasn’t hot! Last check point is at the summit and whenever new riders would appear from the climb everyone would clap! One more significant climb then a cruise back to the hotel. We rolled in with a time of 16 hours and 47 minutes. Not bad for the second hardest DC in California. 32% of the people who started didn’t finish! Morgan, unfortunately got a DNF for missing that turn early on and missing the extra climbing. Stage One of the Triple Crown Stage Race down! Two weeks till Stage Two, the Devil Mountain DC, with its 20,000 feet of climbing.

Hemet double century

Where the hell is Hemet, CA? Close, but still had to rent a car on Friday to get there for the Hemet DC on Saturday. Found a rental car place close by; no need to go all the way to the airport on Friday evening. Back to the house in time to eat and head downtown for Plex’s alleycat race ‘Traffic’ (based on the movie). Mad heads show up: Local messengers and bike kids plus riders from NYC, Chicago, and SF in town for the messenger velodrome series race the next day. The race had five check points to pick up drugs on the way to Hollywood. I said I would only roll along, but I got caught up in it and was ‘racing’. I was in a pack flying through the city, in tons of traffic, when my chain came off! Fuck! That sucks when you are riding fixed gear. Got it back on and chilled out a bit the rest of the race.

After the award ceremony a gang of us headed over to the Midnight Riders ride at Sunset & Echo. Second Friday of every month and it rules. 200 plus people these days! I was promoting BikeSummer stuff and then some kids were playing on Free Ride Mountain bikes and BMX’s. My boy Chris let me have a go on his BMX and I was stoked. Hopped back into it with some wall rides, manuals and nose bonks on a TV and some 180’s to half-cabs. When the ride left I went home to work on my bike for the Hemet DC.

Up at 345am to make the 1.5 hour drive. New kids from SF had shown up and were still up drinking beer in the living room. They wished me luck and I offered the same for their velodrome race. 85 MPH the whole way to Hemet. Not much out there. I sign in and am off with a medium paced group. First 100 miles in 6 hours elapsed; a personal record. The course is a relatively flat figure-8 with the start point in the middle. Another first: Someone crashed in front of me in a paceline. You know when you see a group of riders and think, ‘What if one of them fell?’ Luckily we were not going too fast and I saw it coming. The lead group dropped those of us that had stopped and then we tried to catch them! I pulled for a while and the guys behind me started making comments about my bike. Basically I am usually one of only a handful of people without a $5000 bike. Mine looks especially crappy as well.

Since I had expected to be in the desert all day I was rather impressed with the scenery. Many miles of the route were along and around these beautiful lakes with green mountains surrounding them. One downer was the wind we had ALL DAY. Even if it was not headwinds, it was annoying. One guy I was with, Bern, is at least 65 and is training to race the 508 solo. He didn’t mind the winds because that ride is well known for having crazy winds. At the end of the day, we had 6 miles straight into the wind. It was a guy with a 508 jersey who pulled us along. I had been fighting the wind for a couple of miles at 15 MPH or so and this guy jumped up and held a pace of 18 MPH. Sick! At the last turn this guy, who had not been pulling, took off and was ‘racing’ to the hotel. I thought this was whack cause we were no where near the front (by hours!). The other guys took off after him and I thought they were down for the racing. Turns out they were pissed that he didn’t pull and was trying to come into the hotel ahead of us! We ended up pulling him back in and all rolled into the hotel together. Best time yet: 13 hours and 20 minutes. Drove back and crashed out for 10 hours of sleep!

Solvang double century

Morgan, Max and Myself hit Santa Barbara Critical Mass on the way up and then ate dinner with the punks. They thought we were cat-calling a girl, but really we were just excited about a good mustache. Then drove up to Solvang and met Matt Pro who sporting a sweet mustache! Wish I had a picture...
Max, Matt Pro and I slept in the van together. A tad tight. Morgan slept in the bushes. Matt Pro up an hour early to get a start cause he's riding fixed!
Cold cold start. Max and Morgan went on and on about Mole Cows that live in the hills. Fantastic, green scenery. I rode mile 187 naked in what I hope to be a new custom. We all finished near the very end and Deb from Planet Ultra laughed at us. Two of the four wanted a hotel (I won't tell which two) and the other two grudgingly accepted. We ate burritos and crashed out. Stoked on our crew.

Fargo hill climb

Every year the LA Wheelmen organize a hill climb up Fargo Street, reportedly the steepest hill on the west coast and one of the steepest paved hills in the world (Pittsburgh, PA and Dunedin, New Zealand have steeper). It's free and they give you a patch! Three of us pictured all did it on my cyclo-cross bike and Andrea was one of very few females to do it. Rad.

Death Valley double century

When imagining a double century in Death Valley (DV) I thought of a long, arduous day in the heat, by myself, struggling against the intense conditions. The March 5th DC was much different; four of us drove out together to camp and Morgan and I were together for nearly the entire rode. And the weather was fantastic for the ride; despite the pouring rain we drove through the night before. DV is a national park that is home to the lowest point in North America (Badwater) at 282 feet below sea level and is within eyesight of the highest point in the US, Mt Whitney. The insane rain that hit Cali this year has put a lake right in the middle of Badwater. Fortunately the same rain led to a HUGE blossoming of bright yellow flowers that contrasted beautifully with the jagged black mountain ranges.

First lesson: Alarms on cell phones don’t work when they are not getting reception. After getting to sleep at 1am or so I managed to wake up on my own at 535am, 10 minutes before the ride started. We ate bagels and drank soymilk as we rode from the campground to the starting point. The ride was set-up for two out and backs of 75 and 25 miles, respectively. Before we started I ran into Gerd, the 71 year old from Berkeley (who ended up finishing in under 13 hours!). Just like in OC I jumped in with the fast pack and was streamlining for a while. Some guy asked me if I was at the Butterfield DC cause my bike was still dirty. We were making great time and I assumed Morgan was in the group. I stopped at the first pit stop (the fast group kept going!) and looked for Morgan. Ten minutes later he came rolling in, panting hard. It ends up his number flew off his bike in the first mile and he went back to get it!

People who ride double centuries are, as you could guess, a unique bunch. Much friendlier (and odder!) than the roadies I come across on weekends at home. Morgan and I go for the chill pace for the two climbs through the desert, chatting with people as we go. The temperature started rising and the lack of sleep was evident. Second lesson: read the route slip. I thought lunch was at the turn around point (mile 75), but it was at mile 130. Something as simple as not getting lunch when expected could bum you out when you are tired and hot. The return route was excellent; the vastness of the desert was overwhelming as we descended the passes we had climbed up and over. The layers were outstanding from the bright flowers and the close mountain ranges to the snow topped ranges in the distance.


Morgan was doing great for his first double. At mile 150 we reached the starting point for the final out and back as the sun set behind the mountains. At check-in a bunch of people quit! We turned on our lights and pushed on. I love riding in the dark! We enjoyed the tail winds and hammered past numerous people. At the final checkpoint we chatted with Chris Kostman, the organizer, for a bit. Morgan and I have put this guy on a pedestal recently. His triple iron man races, his excellent writing and his inclusive events have given him near idol status in our minds.

Last 25 miles. Head winds. Morgan was feeling it. We turned off our lights to ride under the billions of bright stars and he almost fell asleep. At 9pm we roll into the finish with a time just under 15 hours. I’m stoked! Had plans to drive back to LA over night in time to do the LA bike tour at 6am, but this shit didn’t pan out and we crashed out in the tent. Next day we had a beautiful drive back to LA, with no rain, in our rented hybrid civic. Rad weekend. Morgan’s comments: ‘Saturday was rad. Lasting images: (a) field of yellow flowers (b) the Sisyphean ordeal of Salisbury pass (never getting closer) (c) no lunch 'til mile 130 (d) pounding up that hill in the dark just after leaving stovepipe (the latter memory sticks in particular, as it was so difficult for me then, but I had some vague sense that it would be over soon...).’

Butterfield (butterflood?) double century

Last September 25th, on my attempt to ride my third double century of the year to qualify for the California Triple Crown, Matt Pro and I ended up getting lost at mile 150 and not finishing. How frustrating! The details of being stranded in the cold and the dark are not all that exciting, but I decided then that I would do the first three doubles of 2005.

Double centuries (DC) are ranked based on the amount of climbing (called total elevation gain) that is done in the 200 miles. The ones I did last year were actually rather difficult, with Mt. Tam being the most strenuous at 15,000 feet. The Butterfield DC with its 8100 ft of climbing is only moderately difficult and, as the first DC of the year, is a great ride to loosen up your legs. Starting and ending in Orange County, the set route was through some territory I had ridden on. And I wouldn’t have to travel super far to get there.

With a borrowed car from my boss and the day off I headed to my friend's house in the OC around mid-day on Friday in the pouring rain. That night, after searching for my lost keys for about an hour, I found them under the couch (and was then able to tighten my Kryptonite skewer) and was asleep by 1130pm or so. The sound of pouring rain was evident as soon as my alarm went off at 415am. It was also evident when I had to put dollars into an uncovered machine to pay the tolls on the stupid freeway twice! Off of the freeway I notice a pack of blinking lights; the early DC group had left the hotel and were on their way!

I got to the starting point at a hotel (late!), threw my bike and gear together and for a minute considered not even wearing rain gear. Would it really matter after 14 hours in the rain if I had it on or not? I went with it and think I made the right choice. Just caught the twilight (ha!) main start and was off. Later I found out that less than half of the 216 registered riders even left the hotel.

The fast pack took off and I hung with the middle group. A moderate climb separated us further, but I was with about 10 people who were just above my ability. People were chatting; someone said they did 5 doubles last year and then someone else said the person next to them had done 10. He followed that statement with ‘Yeah, and he is 71 years old.’ Gerd, a retired chemistry professor, has been riding about 6 years since his wife bought them mountain bikes when he was 65. Amazing.

From the 615am start till about 1030am it down-poured. That didn’t stop the pack I was with from averaging speeds around 21-22 MPH. Early on the ride I was thinking about what could make riding at 30 MPH more dangerous. I came up with 3 things: 1) In the dark, 2) In the rain, 3) In a pack of people that you do not know. We were doing all of them.

At the lunch check point at mile 95 or so they informed us that there was flooding and wash-outs in Temecula; we had to turn around and return the way we came. By this time the rain had slowed, and then stopped, and the sun was creeping out. Rolling with a pack of four, we were pacelining (riding in an aerodynamic line alternating the front rider) and making great time. Our rain gear had time to air out and the intense head winds we faced earlier in the day now pushed us on from behind. Most of the route was through Southern OC on bike lanes, routes, and paths on, or near, the coast. Despite much of it, there really are beautiful sections of OC.

When we turned inland, around dusk at mile 150 or so, the rain started again. Our pack was holding strong and I played my part in the pace line by pulling us up some of the bigger hills through the never-ending sprawl that is urban OC. At the final check point we were told that as many as 40 people had dropped out! I pushed down my tenth or eleventh PBJ sandwich with two ibuprofen (I had a wisdom tooth pulled earlier in the week and could barely eat even soft food) and we started out on the final twenty-five miles.

Laughing at the rain was the best way for me to deal with it. Really, would sitting around watching TV be any better? Eventually, I adjusted to it and it no longer mattered that is was raining. Most people I talk with about double centuries think it is about the physical challenge, but to me that is only a small component of it. Once you are capable of riding that distance it is no longer as important as other factors. Much of it is mental and, while spending all day on my bike, I have time to draw parallels and symbolism with the rest of my life.

Finishing at the hotel our crew said our good-byes (‘See you in Solvang!) and I met up with Morgan to drive back to Los Angeles. Straight to the BikeSummer party at Basswerks for some chilling before a much anticipated good night of sleep. Two weeks till Death Valley!

Knoxville double century

Here's a quick summary:
We didn't leave LA till 7pm, therefore we arrived in Davis around 2am.
Slept for a few hours at Tim's place (same as for Mt Tam!).
Got to the start late and were the last two to leave.
Spent all day being playing catch-up; barely made the lunch cut-off.
My cassette fell off at one point (don't ask).
We miss a turn b/c it was marked poorly, and rode 14 miles out of the way, round trip.
The sweep SAG missed us cause we were off-route.
The checkpoint with our lights and warm clothes was closed and gone.
Riding downhill in the dark and cold sucks: You want to go faster to warm up, but you can't see shit.
Eventually we get in touch with the organizers and they say they have to come get us.
We wouldn't finish till 3am if we rode on.
Super cold waiting for them.
My first DNF on a ride, ever.
Happy Birthday!

Tour of Two Forest double century

A day on a bicycle, exploring, at slow, antagonizing low speeds and exhilarating high speeds, is a day well spent. My recent interest in double centuries has awarded me the possibility of spending Saturdays exploring some of the most beautiful parts of the world, by bicycle of course. This past Saturday I rode 200 miles on the Tour of Two Forests Double Century organized by Planet Ultra.

At 430am, after a couple hours of so-called sleep, my friend Matt Pro and I are mummy-like as we organize our stuff in his Hollywood apartment and prepare for our drive to Santa Clarita for the 615am start. Our excitement is only slightly concealed by our sleepiness. But, what may have been concealed was our better judgment. We decided to not fix the slow-leak in his tube and not to bring warmer clothes.

Honestly, the morning was unremarkable. Some cold weather, a little mist, good conversation pertaining to California history, and the usual rural landmarks kept our brains functioning through mid-morning. Then Matt’s tube started to act up. Slow leaks are tricky because part of you says, ‘Don’t waste time fixing it, just keep pumping it up every hour!’ When your tube is low on pressure it takes significantly more energy to keep the same pace. Not fun! It ends up that a patched rip in his tire was putting tiny holes in his tube. In the end he had changed or patched the tube 4 times before scoring a new tire.

The two forests we traveled through were the Los Padres and The Angeles National Parks. Stunning. I have traveled a decent amount in my life, but I have to say that California has some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. In one day you can travel along beaches, through mountains and across deserts, and numerous types of each! With National Parks comes mountains, and with mountains comes climbs. Mid-day, temperature in the 90’s and we are struggling up some big ones. Not steep, but long. ‘Hey, look way up there! Is that the pass? Didn’t that car pass us 20 minutes ago?’

Part of the ride went through sections of forest that were nearly destroyed by the fires in 2003. Here we are, cruising along as the sun is going down, about 140 miles behind us, through the remains of a fire. Trees still standing though they more resemble silhouettes. Shrubs still holding strong, despite being blackened to a crisp, blowing in the wind. Only the occasional dog that chases us breaks the unnatural silence.

The last fifty miles were ridden under the stars, guided by our headlights. The organizers were gracious enough to give us a fifteen-mile downhill. My front brakes were not working (I will not get into the details!), as we descended at twenty-five miles per hour through repetitive twists and turns. Each series of turns seemed to mimic the previous one until finally the mountain opened up and we descended into the town of Santa Clarita.

Nearly seventeen hours had passed when we returned to the start point across from Magic Mountain. In these seventeen hours I experience not only vast temperature changes and sceneries, but also an array of emotions. Pedaling becomes so routine that it is meditative. My mind jumps from joy to sadness in a matter of miles. Old memories suddenly leap to the front of my mind. I consider old and new ideas. Suddenly I realize I have ridden ten miles and cannot remember a single thing I thought about. Was my mind blank for nearly forty-five minutes?

Tonight (Friday) Matt and I are traveling up to Davis to do the Knoxville Double on Saturday. If I finish, despite this lingering cold that has cost me three days of work, I will be eligible for the California Triple Crown. (caltriplecrown.com). Hopefully my cold and cough dissipate in the next twelve hours. This route has less climbing than others at 11,000 feet (compared to 15,000 and 13,000) and claims wonderful scenery. It will be a fantastic way to spend my twenty-sixth birthday.

Uh! Ah! Chavez no se va!

Hugo Chavez, the leftist president of Venezuela, won the referendum here on Sunday with 58% of the vote. We spent the day hanging out in Caracas watching the long, long lines (most people spent 5 to 8 hours waiting to vote) in an awesome neighborhood called Sabana Grande. People had to vote either Si or No for the referendum pushed by the right wing opposition groups. A vote for ´No´ is a vote for Chavez and the continuation of his presidency. After the polls closed at midnight we left the 'No' camp we had been hanging out with, who had just sung Happy Birthday to Colleen, and took a cab to the presidential palace.

The situation there was AMAZING. Thousands and thousands of people in the streets, hanging off of trucks and from balconies, chanting and screaming and dancing. We milled around for about 3 hours till our group split up with 3 going back to our hotel and Colleen and I staying behind. We watched some of the bands perform and followed the news on the big screen TV while munching on popcorn. Keep in mind that at this point it is about 4am and the streets have not emptied. Old people and children alike passed the time singing, dancing, and eating. When the report came out that Chavez won the place erupted. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed. People hugged us and I could see tears in people's eyes. It was strange to be at a political event where the side we are pulling for actually wins. And even odder that it is the state we are cheering for! Chavez has been a thorn to the US since he was first elected in 1998 by de-privatizing the oil industry and pouring money into social programs for the country's poorest people. When the rightwing attempted a coup a couple of years ago the US recognized it immediately, though they continue to not fully recognize Chavez who has been democratically elected 3 times.

After the announcement of the win the soldiers opened the gate to the presidential palace and the crowd swormed in. I look up and we ended up directly under the president's balcony. After about 5 minutes of anticipation Chavez opened the doors and appeared on the balcony. Everyone went absolutely nuts. The chant of the pro-Chavez groups, 'Uh! Ah! Chavez no se va!' (which translates as Chavez wont go) was deafeningly loud. We stood and listened to his speech with the supporters even as rain started coming down around 5am. He mentioned the significance of the election of other left leaning presidents in Latin America and then said, 'Fuera Bush de la casa blanca' (Out Bush from the white house). Everyone around us looked at us and when we repeated it everyone cheered. Eventually we pushed through the crowd and avoided the kids on motorcycles and hailed a cab back to the hotel. This night was one of the most exciting moments of my life! Venezuela will forever be in my mind and I feel that much closer to what happens here. I am sure I will be back soon.

Caracas, Venezuela sin bici

We arrived in Caracas safely on Monday afternoon and found a cheap hotel in the University area. We ate at a rad veggie restaurant and then chilled in the center area and drank and ate this fruit ice cream stuff. Apparently the area we stayed in there is not the safest. 3 of th 5 peeps I am with went out that night and met up with some random kids. One of them got a gunned pulled on them and then they said they absolutely had to take a cab back to the hotel cause it was unsafe to walk after dark.

On Tuesday we took a RAD bus ride over the mountains to an amazing beach town. Today we chilled out on the beach most the day eating fried plantains and drinking coconut water. It is picture perfect, clear water, palm trees, and mountains in the background. Tomorrow we are taking a boat to some exclusive beach and Friday doing a trip in the mountains.

Sunday we are returning for the elections because we met some cool peeps from the Chavez camp who are going to take us around. It may be crazy there, I will try to update before then. Super rushed right now!

Mt Tam double century

200 miles in one day. It's a goal I set for myself way back when I first started doing long rides in Fall of 2000. It was at my first organized ride ever, the Santa Monica mountains century earlier this summer, where I learned about the existence of organized 200 miles rides called double centuries. It's called the California Triple Crown, a series of double centuries all over the state. I checked the website the night after that ride and was hooked.

Saturday morning I woke up at 245am, drank some coffee, ate what food I could, and hopped in my rental car. The extra $5/day for the CD player was so worth it. Public Enemy and Gangstarr kept my energy level up on the one-hour drive to the start of the ride in Merin County. I downed a quart of silk latte. The start of the ride was at an elementary school and the place was buzzing. At least 125 people on bikes plus organizers and supporters. I stand in line surrounded by geared up roadies; slightly intimidated by all of the people for whom this is normal. I get my number and am on my way back to the car to unload my bike. Is this it?

I had just finished putting on sunblock (still dark out) and sorting out my lights when the start begins. I hop on my bike and take off with the main group. After a couple of miles we are split up by a small climb. A fast group takes off in the front and I am still with the main group. At one point we are flying downhill on a road with full tree cover. At about 30 miles an hour all I can see is the spot of light in front of me from my light and dozens of blinking red lights. Amazing! If I am doing anything at 530am I would want it to be this.

At the first pit stop, at mile 22 or so, I look at my computer and my average speed is 18 MPH. This is damn fast for me, my 'fast' training rides were at about this speed, but for only 25-30 miles. I have 178 left. I decide to not pace with the main group. Here we also drop our lights and warm clothes in marked paper bags. The organizers kindly shuttle this stuff ahead to the second to last stop, where we will be needing them again for nightfall.

The first big climb of the day was up the infamous Mt. Tamalpais. 2500 feet to the top where we check-in, turn around and descend. Astounding views of San Francisco, the ocean, and the mountain ranges from our position above the fog line. During the descent, and some time after, we hit fog and cold weather. Damn the crazy bay area weather! Eventually I will be sweating in 90 plus heat, but at this time, around mile 50, I am almost shivering. Like I have said before, when you spend hours and hours on a bike, outside, you truly experience every change in the environment.

Around mile 80 I ended up chatting with two women in their forties. Turns out they have both ridden many tough centuries and other hard rides. We formed a pace line and chatted away. They were so impressed that this was my first double and only my second organized ride! Eventually we caught another group and about 8 of us paced together. Riding at about 21-22 MPH on flat we picked up some miles quickly. I held my own at the front for many of them, but our group split up at the next big climb.

These organized rides are ‘supported’, meaning that food, drinks, minor mechanics, and first aid is available at a number of pit stops along the way. My problem is that I hang out there too long eating and drinking! Vegan food is abound usually in the form of pb/jelly sandwiches, clif bars, fruit, bagels, fig newtons, Gatorade, granola bars and hammer gel (yum!). The lunch pit stop was stocked with veggie burritos and one of the last ones had figs, one of my new favorite fruits.

I spent a lot of midday on my own. This included a ridiculously steep climb at mile 130. It was one of those climbs, in the open sun, where you have trouble turning your pedals over in the easiest gear. I was standing for a lot of it. My legs are aching, as is my lower back, and I am regretting my early morning pace. ‘Why the hell am I doing this?’ I hate riding uphill. I much prefer riding downhill and/or with tailwinds! If there was ever a lazy person who did a double century it is me. At the next stop I realize we are on the same course as the metric double century (125 miles) riders and I try not to turn my nose up to those doing fewer miles.

Around mile 150 I am feeling sluggish in even keeping a fast pace on flat. I am seeing fewer and fewer riders and my motivation is low. My mind is searching for something new to think about! I force myself not to stare at my computer and calculate my pace, miles to go, etc. Around 175 I meet up with a guy I had talked to briefly earlier and we start riding together. Not pacing, simply riding side by side. It turns out that it is his first double, but he just ran the SF marathon the previous weekend! We end up riding together the rest of the day (and into the night!).

At the mile 186 stop we meet the guy responsible for the course. He is ecstatic that this is our first double and tells us that we will be hooked. Yeah too late my friend. It’s great when someone involved in an inherently exclusive hobby is not exclusive to who does it and actively encourages others to participate. After that we had one last climb before a descent and some flat to the 200 mile mark. But, as always, I was having gear problems. My light was going in and out and my friend’s battery died. We had my back-up commuter light, but in the pitch blackness it was little help on the descent. Luckily someone with two LED lights caught us and led the way to the end point. 200 miles in 16 hours and 42 minutes. I was shooting for 15, but what are you going to do? I finished within the cut-off time of 17, so I was happy.

Signed up for a double century, wtf?

About 6 weeks ago I committed to doing a double century (200 miles in one day, under 17 hours) on August 7th in Marin County (across the golden gate bridge from SF). I trained as much as someone like me could train. I had a hill day, an interval day, and a long day each week. My new riding buddy, Matt Pro, and I did Los Angeles to San Diego in one day- about 165 miles- two weeks ago. I feel good, but I don’t have a lot to compare it to.

Anyway, I flew up to Northern California on Tuesday for a conference for work on Wed/Thur. Which, in itself, was a fun time. Oh wait! My 10-year streak of not paying for taking my bike on a plane was broken! I was lazy and didn’t measure my boxes and got called out. She actually measured my boxes! One 7 inches over and the other 4 (length plus height plus width). I was able to talk my way into just paying for one oversized box; $45. Much better than the $80 for bike or $90 for two over-sized boxes. I really cannot complain since I didn’t have to pay for my flight.

All week I have been back and forth between Sacramento and Davis. Davis is amazing! I have eaten at least a dozen and a half figs STRAIGHT OFF THE TREE. My friends Tim Radak and Temra Costra are urban scavengers (and wonderful hosts!). Amazing. And last night I went to a bar because Tim's housemate's boyfriend was performing with someone else named Ben as 'The Benjamins'. In dramatic fashion I am waiting in line for some food and this kid with a beard and dreads asks me if my name is Matt. I say yes and he responds. 'Yo its Ben Lewis! From high school!'. Yeah. A friend from high school I haven’t talked to in 7 years. He lives in Davis and was the other Ben in 'The Benjamins'. And, randomly enough, his older sister was in town visiting from Monterrey. She made reference to me at her prom. Crazy!

Now it is 1015pm. I have to be up in 4.5 hours to drive to the start of the ride one hour away. Check-in is at 430am. I am super nervous. Can I climb 15,000 feet in one day? Will I be able to finish in 17 hours? Will my bike hold up? My knees? I am unsure what to expect. I just made a mixed CD for the rental car ride and am staring at my bike all ready to go. We'll see what happens. I will post as soon as I get back to Davis. The car ride back here might be rough, but that's what coffee is for. Good night.

The hike of bike to hike San Gorgonio

The night at approx 8000ft was chilly, but I slept well in my zero degree bag. I slept well, that is, until the pack of boy scouts came tramping in super loud around 12am. These little brats decided to set-up camp practically on top of my tent. I was still up early; I wanted to summit and get back down and be on my bike back to the train before dark.

I got packed up and was on the trail before the OC guys. The weight of my pack was wearing on me and I was starting to feel the altitude. It was not affecting my head yet, but the thin air was making it hard to breath. Being a Saturday morning each viewpoint was (nearly) filled with day hikers and the rest of us who had camped at one of the three campsites. The sites were beautiful and the effort needed to keep climbing was extraordinary; both of which I was looking forward to. But, I really don't like hiking that much. It is so slow! On a bike you can coast or speed up with minimal effort. Not so with hiking! About 6 years ago I was talking about hiking the Appalacian Trail. Boy am I glad I am over that nonsense.

Near the top my pace is slowing considerably. I am being passed constantly. At a fork about 300 vertical feet from the summit I decide to leave my pack. My head is aching a bit and I know it is going to get worse the longer I stay up. Picking up my pace, I soon arrive at the busy summit. Maybe hiking is more about the destination than the journey? I was happy to be there and look down in every direction.

Going downhill is not much easier than going up AND it is harder on your knees. I am going slow, being passed, etc and then I took a long break at one of the viewpoints. The OC guys ask me if I am feeling okay and I respond honestly. They say I should hike with them just to be safe. It ends up they are training for a climb up Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in California. We are chatting away about gear, etc and they tease me about my antiquated water purification method (iodine tablets). I should also mention that my feet are destroyed! Hiking in cycling socks is not a good idea. By the time I am back in LA I'll have 6 blisters, some of which are quarter size.

Meanwhile I am being challenged to stay on pace. When I am cycling it is hard to push myself to where I am uncomfortable. But I was at this point hiking down this mountain. Crazy thoughts start to go through your head about motivation. 'Why would anyone do this?' 'What the hell was I thinking?' Looking back I understand better the importance of mental preparation. When this type of situation arises I bet most people talk themselves out of things they are capable of. Amazing!

Eventually we get down to the parking lot. I am stoked that my bike is still there. I hadn’t mentioned that I had ridden my bike there. Suddenly these guys thought I was the macho one doing ridiculous feats. I laughed and told them how riding was the easy part. Then they laughed at me when I unloaded my pack and panniers, bike shoes, and a pump came out.

I cruised the 25 mile downhill at dusk and then into dark. I went back to Jen's since I missed the last train to LA, but it was probably for the better. We cooked some food and I crashed out. Next day back to LA and then back to work.....

Ride from LA to hike San Gorgonio

After two months of having a real job and working regular hours I was itching to get away. I finally was able to do the 120-mile, 11,500ft bike to hike trip I been sleepin on for about 2 years.

After the usual pack till 3am the night before routine, I left Los Angeles at about 1130am, heading east. I had put on a front rack with panniers and I strapped my hiking pack to my rear rack. Unfortunately the 70 miles from LA to Loma Linda are not very interesting. Basically flat and easy and not much to look at. When people say LA is ugly with strip malls and industry they are really talking about the suburbs east of the city that span the whole 70 miles I rode. My neighborhood in downtown is much greener and nicer! I ended up in Loma Linda at my friend Jen Heine's house in about 6.5 hours (5 hours pedaling).

When bike touring a 3-day trip requires almost the same amount of stuff as a 30 day trip! All of the bike and camp basics plus I needed my hiking pack and boots. At night we sessioned the Redlands market which was a regular event for me when I lived out there before I crashed out on her floor.

Friday I woke up early, got some coffee and started on my 20 mile, 5200 foot climb to the mountain town of Forest Falls. If you live in the so cal area please go visit the San Bernardino Mountains. Fantastic scenery! This unrelenting climb is one of the hardest I have ever done. It parallels the hardest climbs we did in Mexico two years ago. At the edge of town is the trailhead for the Vivian Creek trail to the summit of San Gorgonio mountain. A 7.2 mile hike that gains 5300 feet (up to 11,500 ft).

Why this hike? Two years ago my friends, Jen Heine (same one) and Tim Radak, and I decided to climb this in one day. I was set on riding to it then, despite my ill preparation. I read that to summit you need to leave the trailhead by 7am to make it back before dark. Realizing I would have to leave at 330am to ride there in time I decided against it. That trip was a nightmare anyway! We ended up not leaving the parking lot till 10am or so and racing up to the summit. Jen and I soon started falling behind Tim. Then we both began showing symptoms of altitude sickness: dizziness, nausea, vomiting, disorientation, suppressed analytical skills, and blurred vision. We were in bad shape! I had thrown up everything I had eaten and Jen's vision was blurry. Then she hurt her knee!

This story is so ridiculous it is almost embarrassing. It was starting to get dark, Tim was no where to be found and then I lost the map. The batteries in Jen's flashlight dies. We lose the trail. I go and look for help and cannot find the people I swore I just saw. Jen is mumbling about setting a fire so the helicopters can see us. My head is pounding from the elevation. Eventually we find the trail and I help her walk on her hurt knee. After hours of stumbling in near darkness (I had a headlamp) we make our way back to the trailhead. Where is Tim? There is a note from him that he left to go let his dog out (1 hour away) and that he would be back at midnight to see if we were still there. What time was it? 1230am. We could not believe it. By this time it is freezing out and we were not prepared for the night. We ended up making a bed of leaves in the women's bathroom and spooning all night to stay warm. Got a ride back in the morning to end our disastrous trip. So I wanted to do this climb right.

Chillin in the parking lot I unpack my panniers and load EVERYTHING into my hiking pack. I reluctantly lock up my bike to a gate and start hiking. The first mile of the trail is out of a valley and is STEEP. I am stumbling with my heavy ass pack. When was the last time I hiked with so much stuff? I could not remember. It took me 3 hours to go the 2. 5 miles to halfway camp. I set-up camp and was hanging out with a couple of guys from OC who hike often. They volunteered to hang my food with theirs, giving me the opportunity to go to sleep around 930pm. Exhausted!

Alaska/coast trip summary

Here we go with some numbers.

Time gone from LA: 75 days

Miles on bike: 2150

Miles ridden while bike touring (fully loaded with gear): 1661 (500 in Alaska in 10 days, and 1161 Vancouver to San Francisco in 19 days)

Times paid to camp/sleep: 11

Total spent on camp/sleep: $45

Oddest place camped: A pumpkin patch in Garberville, Ca

Coldest nights: Denali National Park, (single digits) and Nora/Themba's house without heat in Olympia (low 30's)

Longest consecutive time in sleeping bag: 14 hours (On the Sunday night after two days of straight rain)

Time spent on internet while away: Unfathomable

Longest time alone straight: 13 days

Longest period w/o being inside a motor vehicle: 21 days

Estimated weight of bike plus trailer plus gear and food: 100 pounds

Packages of little debbie donuts and peanut chews consumed: Unconceivable

Top 3 camp stove meals: 1. Ramen noodles with tofu, broccoli and peanut sauce 2. Rehydrated beans and rice w/ tortillas 3. Pasta with olive oil and nutritional yeast

Flat tires: 1 (seriously, only one fucking flat tire in 2100 miles!)

Broken/worn out parts: 1 chain, 1 seat bag, 1 spoke, 1 gear (broke two teeth riding at a skate park in Alaska)

Major mechanical problems: Twice my rear axle came loose and separated from the frame.

Total money spent on transporting bicycle on 4 flights: 0

Money spent on mailing things to/from myself: $55

Total sets of non-riding clothing: 1 (1 shirt, 1 pants, 1 fleece)

Number of new warrantied frames waiting for me when I returned: 1 (!)

So that's it for this trip. Send me an email, leave a comment. Peace for now, see you in real life.
Matt

Portland, OR to San Francisco, CA

It seems now, after this trip, that 'bike touring' has become more about the traveling then the traveling by bike. Seeing this part of the world was my priority, I just happen to do it by bicycle to add to the experience. And what an experience it has been; probably one of the most spectacularly scenic trips I have ever taken.

Getting to the coast from Portland was uneventful, but immediately the beauty of the Oregon coast was obvious. Coming from the east coast and living in so cal my idea of 'ocean views' involves boardwalks, sunbathers and surfers. Not in Oregon. Huge rocks line the coast where angry waves crash against what can hardly be described of as a beach. The road I was following rolled right along this coast most of the time, occasionally drawing inland, but soon retracting back to the coastal views and the undulating hills.

Traveling in the fall has definite advantages; the first and most obvious being decreased traffic. Campsites were at maybe 10% occupancy. An occasional RV passed me (but almost always too closely). 'Vista points' were deserted. The drawback was the short days (dark by 430-5pm) and the cold, sometimes rainy weather. I knew what to expect and was preparing myself for the rain. It's not the riding in the rain, it is the camping that is difficult. Previously, when it rained I was paranoid about any water in my tent or if any of my stuff was wet. Those days have been long gone since I have spent DAYS in the rain. Like when you set up your tent and there is already a puddle inside from packing it wet that morning. It is absolutely impossible to keep things dry. My (expensive) rain gear worked fantastic, but when you have to put it a garbage bag in your tent when you wake up and put it on the inside is wet; there is no way to avoid it. Sometimes you cannot find a covered place to cook dinner, so there you are, in a downpour, firing up your stove and measuring out rice. I left Portland on a Monday morning and it didn't rain hard until that Friday night, but it rained through the weekend and into the following Monday. News of a coming storm persisted through all of last week, but thankfully never came. It was not until the end of that week that all my stuff finally dried!



Another change about this trip was my use of state campgrounds. The Oregon and Cali coast are covered in state parks that offer hiker/biker tent sites for $2-4! This includes picnic table, water, restrooms, shower and (most importantly) a flat, level place to put your tent. If you are familiar with my previous trips I never paid to camp. 3300 miles cross country without spending a dime! Also it was worth the ambiance of the sites. I camped in forests 1/4 mile from the beach and in redwood groves. And of course I was the only person in that area. It added to the beauty of an already fantastic trip.

And this is the part I have the most trouble describing in here. How can I convey the beauty of riding through a forest of the largest trees in the world? Or riding on a narrow road 200 feet above the edge of the continent? In a car you see it as you pass by, on a bike it absorbs you for hours. In a car you could dose off and miss the environment it took me an entire day to ride through. So, I will leave the descriptions at that and maybe in person I can get into it more.

Meeting other travelers rules. Like the kid from Germany who confronted me at the golden gate bridge, my final destination, and said, 'Great time from Portland'. I looked at him perplexedly and he told me he saw me south of Portland and then two more times in the next 13 days while he hitchhiked down the coast. And the walking guy (who has a website, but I don't have the link). He left Florida in March and was heading to Canada. He had a trailer, the same one I had attached to my bike, but attached to his pack. He has done all the long distance trails in the USA. He was not as insane as he may seem, but was still a bit crazy. We shared our mutual disdain for RV's and the people who drive them and exchanged some stories. He told me a guy from Alaska was a couple days ahead of me! When you are bike touring it is really exciting to meet up with someone headed in the same direction.

As luck would have it, about a week later I ran into him at a small coffee shop in an extremely small town. He's 47, has lived in Alaska (the southeast) for over 40 years and had not spent anytime in the continental US. An avid cycle tourist, he took 4 months off of work, took a boat to Northern Washington and is heading down the coast and then across the southern US. We shared stories over coffee and then did 5 or so miles together before he pulled off and called it a day. He told of grizzly bears in Alaska and of the 38 miles of paved roads in his home town with one stoplight. I told him my parents were from NYC and that I hadn't slept in a tent till I was 19. So here we are, from completely different walks of life and we came together based on our mutual love of traveling by bike. As you can imagine he was extremely nervous about riding through SF and LA. He told me that he thought there were so many people in Northern Cali! The same place I went to to get away from people. I told him about how bike friendly SF is and how I can meet him in LA. We swapped info and I went on my way.

Now I am sitting in Los Angeles, it's sunny and warm, I am on a laptop eating vegan cupcakes and listening to muskabeatz. I have only been back 24 hours and already riding 60 miles a day in rural California and sleeping in a tent seems so far off. It is easy to feel like nothing has changed but I have so much to take with me from this 2.5 month trip. I will update with more quantitative info soon (like 1 flat tire in 2100 miles ridden!).

Portland Portland Portland

Yeah it rules. Both of my indulgences in life can be fully satisfied here. There is even a vegan grocery store. I am spending the day exploring some more and preparing to leave for California tomorrow. About 750 miles to San Fransisco, I am going to try to do it in 13 days in order to meet my housemates (on tour) and possibly head back to LA with them in their van. We'll see. I am stoked on this leg of the trip, it will be absolutely beautiful. I head 80 or so miles to the coast and then it is a straight shot on the 101 south. I am especially excited to ride through the redwood forest park in northern Cali.

Cell phone (no where to charge battery) use and email access may be limited. I will most definitely be checking voice mail messages, so feel free to call. I'm looking forward to being back in LA! It's funny, often on this trip the people I have stayed with have provided me with better accommodations then I have at home (own room, laptop, DSL, car). Insane. That says a lot about my life and how I have organized it.

Peace!

Olympia, WA to Portland, OR

Look at me, firing out journal updates the day after I arrive! DSL rules. Olympia = cold, Portland = not as cold. But, like the guy in the bike shop told me, 'What did you expect touring this late in the year?'. True indeed. I wasn’t expecting snow on the ground south of Olympia, thats for sure. My first day out was pretty perfect. Early start, sunny, no wind, flat, low traffic, some small roads that winded through farm communities. I put in 69 miles before doing my 'arrive in a small town' routine. It goes something like this: 1. Arrive in town, ask where the grocery store is. 2. Buy tofu, broccoli, ramen noodles (dinner), and bananas (breakfast). 3. Ask the cashier where there is a park with picnic tables. 4. Go to the park, cook dinner, set-up camp, ignore the bewilderment of passer-byers. 5. Go to sleep at some ridiculously early hour. The Thursday night town was Castle Rock and I settled in next to a monument dedicated to Harry Truman. Now if anyone ever asks what Harry Truman has done for me I can say that his monument in Castle Rock, Washington gave me a place to put my tent and sheltered me from passing cars.

My day into Portland was not quite as smooth. It started raining early in the morning; the clouds never lifted, but the rain stopped pretty soon there after. I had to decide where I was going to cross into Oregon, either on the freeway just north of Portland or on a small highway 50 miles to the north. I chose the small highway and I don't think I made the correct decision. Construction, no sidewalk, no shoulder. Shitty, to say the least. After that drama I had a straight shot on one highway the 50 miles into Portland. I've said it before: This is the type of riding people who have never bike toured imagine. 4 lane highway, very few towns, very little to look at. Just me pushing along slowly counting down the mile markers. So in two days I had both extremes of what you experience while touring. Funny. Oh, but to get into Portland I had to cross another bridge. Same circumstance. I just got behind a bus and hammered across. There was enough traffic that the car behind me really had no reason to pass.

Finally get to my friend's house and chill. We went out to see a skate video premiere and almost every road had a bike lane. This is the Portland I heard so much about. We stopped in a pizza shop and Ryan knew the kid = free vegan pizza. Loving it. By then, of course, it is raining, but we managed to ignore it and happily pedal home. It's Saturday morning, it's not raining, and I am stoked to get out and see all the bike and food related things I can do in this city that is well known for its abundance of.

After here it is a 12-day straight shot ride to San Francisco. After this weekend this hang out trip is going to quickly turn into a bike trip.

Seattle, WA to Olympia, WA

I left the land of volvo wagons with 'no war' stickers on them and headed to the magical land of crimethinc and indy rock (also known as Olympia). I left Seattle super duper early cause I know the sun is down by 5pm these days and after that it is mighty cold. In PA I switched my 0 degree sleeping bag for my 32 degree '3-season' bag and my big hiking boots for some skate shoes to save some weight/space. I am estimating that my bike and trailer weigh at least 100 pounds (compared to the summer trip with road bike and panniers and a total of about 75 pounds) so every pound makes a difference in my mind. Will I be freezing at night? Probably. I had sunny, but cold weather and my route was outside of most traffic. I did have to do a stunt of 8 miles on the interstate which is never fun, but never as bad as everyone makes it out to be.

This is the end of my second day in Olympia. Its just like I had hoped; full of local co-ops, bookstores, coffee shops, etc. I bought a new chain at a worker-owned bike shop, hopefully in time to save my cassette from being worn out. Lots of chillin with some friends who I had the pleasure of putting up in LA a couple of months ago. This trip is so different from trips of the past where I camped almost every night and saw very little of anyone I knew. This trip is mainly just to hang out, but I am riding my bike in between cities. Even when I get to Portland I will not of ridden more than 3 days in a row!

That does make it more difficult to get into the rhythm of riding though. I am looking forward to that. Also I am looking forward to the time alone. This trip has been difficult for me in some ways. I feel as though, for the first time in my life, I am not content with just being somewhere new. I need more. What is that more? I am not sure. What am I going to do when I get back to LA? I am not sure. I am almost tired of that question. I hate these times when I have to pick a direction. Wait, thats not right, I do not hate them, I am very privileged to have the opportunity to decide the direction of my life. Politics, career, bikes, travel all pull in different directions. How am I suppose to commit to any one when they are all so important? Who knows. Enough diary shit for now, just know I have a lot to think about in the next 3-4 weeks before I arrive back in LA. I leave tomorrow for the two-day ride to Portland, where I will then spend the weekend. I hear it's some sort of bike mecca. We'll see. Email me about grammatical errors, I am being lazy about spell/grammar checking.

Seattle ruled it

Some oddities as well. Seth's roommate Tyson had a friend come visit from Vermont (where they are both from). Bill from Vermont ended up really being Bill from PA who I know from back in the day. So we all hung out. Had some dumpstered delights, read every bmx magazine issue published in the last year, did critical mass, went to the anarchist bookstore (left bank books at 95 pike), and I ate the largest chocolate chip cookie I have ever seen (I had two). Not much rain, but fuck it was cold. Like 38 during the day! What’s up with that? Mad chillin was in effect, friends were so so hospitable, I can’t wait to get back when its warm and I have my bmx. But then, since they have regular summer guests, I probably won’t have my own room with a bed.

'Do you always take up so much room on the bus?'

Yes, I will admit that sometimes I am ridiculous about saving a couple of dollars. You don't have to tell me. But, what many people don't understand is that the challenge of saving those couple of dollars in fun in itself.

So there I am in Seattle, in the rain, carrying two sketchy cardboard boxes I built and taped together, walking to my bus transfer. I could barely get the boxes onto the bus and once I did I took up more than my fair share of space. Some might say I was abusing public transportation. At the airport I was dropped off pretty far from my terminal and my boxes had already begun to fall apart from dragging them ( only occasionally!). I decided to get a push cart, but they were two dollars! Insane. I tried to talk a worker into just letting me have one when he was putting them back, but he wasn’t havin it. I searched for one as best I could without wondering too far from my boxes. Finally someone let me talk them into giving theirs to me when they were done. So many people wouldn’t let me have theirs! Why is that? I got to my terminal, gave the usual lie about what was in my boxes, then proceeded to the security gates. I had put on extra layers and filled my pockets with stuff in order to lighten up my boxes and the workers at the metal detectors insisted, to the dismay of everyone behind me, that I take off layers down to my t-shirt. Finally on the plane off to PA.

Pennsylvania ruled as usual, good friends, good eats; if I only had better weather and more time.....

If I type too much about non-bike trip stuff I will feel like I am some regular online diary kid and get made fun of more than I already do. At least I am not on friendster.

Vancouver, BC to Seattle, WA

Leaving Vancouver was hard. It was Canadian thanksgiving. Punk and pro-Indigenous kids can still make a festive atmosphere on a day that celebrates less than praise worthy events. It took me an hour to say good-bye to all 12 or so kids that were in the kitchen cooking. I made some good friends in the 10 days I was there; friends I hope to return the hospitality to if they can ever get over hating LA so much.

From Vancouver to the us border is a string of smaller towns/cities that make navigating especially time consuming. One town, whose name escapes me, was predominantly Sikh and Muslim populated. Indian/Middle East grocers lined the road and the smell of curry was fresh in the air. When I eventually return to Vancouver I will be sure to spend some time here. Some steep hills, in combination with not leaving till 2pm or so, put me at the border just before dark. I was not tired at all, probably due to my new sleep schedule, and road for a couple of hours in the dark! The small amounts of traffic made me feel comfortable doing this and I was able to hammer out the 65 or so miles I needed to do in order to get to Seattle in 3 days.

The route included a lot of time in beautiful forests early on, and then also some coastal roads/paths and some back roads through farm communities. I am following a lonely planet book that gives directions/maps for the coastal ride from Vancouver to San Diego and they have picked the scenic over the direct route. Before I got to Seattle I had taken two quick ferry rides and had ridden across numerous islands in the pungent sound. When I got to Seattle I called a bmx friend of friend, Seth Holten, who hooked me up. Ride from the ferry (it had poured on me all 60 miles I had pedaled), own room in his house, ride to his work in the morning to build boxes to get my bike on the plane. love it. BMX has produced some amazing kids. Approx 200 miles ridden from Vancouver, pulling about 70 pounds of gear in my trailer. nice.

Vancouver: more eat, less ride

Today is my 10th day in Vancouver and I feel like I have done so much, yet at the same time feel that I have done so little. This is from an email I sent to someone earlier in the week--> 'I have fallen into such a routine. wake up around 11-12, eat some food, head to the library, check email, hang out at sweet cheribum (cafe, veg restaurant, Indian grocer all in one), and drink coffee and eat vegan sweets then mill around Commerical Ave (the Haight of Vancouver) till I run into someone I know. Then go to the Sikh temple for free dinner, hang out at the house afterwards doing various random things, read, discuss, etc, then go dumpster diving. In bed around 3am or so.'

It's definitely fun, but I am always thinking I should be doing something better. I guess thats the story of my life. Over the weekend we snuck into a movie and took a midnight bike ride through this huge park. Pulled an all-nighter at Kinko's helping with a zine. Oh, and on Friday there was a 'squeegee kid' protest. In Canada it is common for the poor and street kids to squeegee cars at intersections for change. In a time of increased unemployment and decreased social programs in Canada it is a way of survival. Anyway, police have been harassing the squeegee kids sometimes resorting to physical intimidation. Friday was a protest to draw attention to the situation. A bunch of us from the house cooked enough food for 75+ people and distributed to everyone in the area. It was so much fun. None of the participants in the protest would speak with the media due to the decision from the IWW squeegee council (yes, it exists) so I talked to them as a supporter. It was fun! I did 3 camera interviews and talked about the situation. I wonder if they knew I was not Canadian!?

Despite not mountain biking much, the main reason I came here, I have had a wonderful experience. Everyone at the house is so busy. There are always groups of people going off to do various things. Someone is always cooking (free) food. The dishes always get done. People are always playing music or reading. This is a house of 15 or so people, almost all of them under 21 and with very little money. It has motivated me considerably. Sure, there have been a couple shows at the house where destroyer punks came and were all drunk and obnoxious, but no one at the house is like that. I have spent individual time with almost everyone there and have learned from each of them. My stories pale in comparison to kids who have spent the last couple years of their lives traveling by train hopping, eating by dumpstering and living by squatting.

Tomorrow I am leaving for the 200-mile trip to Seattle. The route I am taking links together islands in the bay instead of just riding along the coast. I am looking forward to being on my bike again, but hopefully the weather improves. I have a lot to think about from this trip so far; the contrast between the doctor I stayed with in Alaska and the punks I am staying with in Vancouver pulls me in two opposite directions. But are they that different? At both places food was shared freely and bikes were a theme. In both places people are doing what they think is best to help the most people. I am lucky to sit in between the extreme of the two ways and have my life influenced by both.

Now I am going to go get some sweets. yum.

No, it's not a bike, it's hiking equipment

Flew into Vancouver Friday. Since I had the BOB trailer I had no choice but to put my bike in a full size bike box-way oversized-and prepare to pay the $50. I get to the ticket counter and the people in front have bikes and shell out their cash. The women says to me when it’s my turn, 'That’s a bike, right?' Just to give it a go I say 'No, camping equipment'. She should of charged for an oversized box but she didn't. Love it! Batting a 1000 for not paying for my bike on airlines. So I land in Vancouver and get grilled by immigration and customs-apparently coming to BC just to mountain bike did not seem like a valid reason. I get through and set-up outside building my bike and packing my trailer. I set off to ride the 13 kilometers to east Vancouver and the unknown house I have directions for.

I make my way to 'The house formerly known as the ALF-house' and it is the way all punk houses should be- crowded with friendly kids. My connection was weak; I had a number of a friend of a friend of a friend, but it didn't matter. I was offered food and a place to put my stuff. Love it. The house is pretty big, but I counted last night and 16 people were sleeping there. I swear not a scrap of food goes wasted from any produce store or health food store in this city. It all ends up in the kitchen. Meals for a dozen people are cooked regularly of solely free food. Canadian Chocolate soymilk is killer as are Nanaimo bars-these vegan treats found at a little gem called sweet cherubum. I ran into a friend from Portland on the street and it turns out his friends know my new friends. Today I have already run into 2 people (free coffee!) whom I have just met yesterday. It's unbelievable.

My first full day I had to check out the 'North Shore' mountain biking. It is internationally known for its style of trails. I made my way to a few bike shops for some maps and new tires then started climbing up the local mountain to hit some trails. I picked an 'intro to north shore' trail. It was getting dark and I had a big pack on, but regardless I think I would of walked down most of the trail. I way overestimated my riding ability! The stuff here is sick-tons of ladders(old trees of various length that are placed horizontly as part of the trail-they have boards of various widths nailed to them to make sort of a bridge). These vary from two ft wide and 6 inches off the ground to half a foot wide and 3 feet off the ground. The trail was filled with berms, drops and obstacles all the way down. Maybe it was extra intimidating because no one was around, but it was so hard for me to do. This week I am going to hit up some 'regular' trails and then get back to the north shore stuff. Hopefully find some locals to ride with. Most of them have full suspension bikes with 7 inches of travel and full body armor. I would love to spend a summer and learn a completely new style of riding.

Plans from here? I have to be in Seattle next Wednesday the 15th to fly to PA on the 16th. I will probably spend most of that time in Vancouver, hopefully with a weekend trip to the mountain bike park in Whistler, 175 kilometers north. My cell phone is roaming, so I am not using it. Plus I would lose tons of punk points for using it here. I told everyone that most punks in LA have cell phones and they laughed at me! Ha. I should be able to check messages, so call if you need. Lastly, I have to say that I love my friends-new and old-so much when I travel. I receive so many love filled emails and have so many wonderful interactions with people who barely know me, but offer what they can to help me in my trip. If I could only offer back half as much it would take me years! This is one of my favorite things about traveling, something everyone should experience. Peace!

Extreme Thursday

My last week in Alaska has been productive, but not in Alaska sense. A lot of time just chillin in the apartment I am staying in and A LOT of time in the library. Its been good though, time to take care of things I didn’t do before I left and things I need to do for the next leg of my trip. Still, I have gone mountain biking almost every day this week, despite poor weather. Mountain biking is amazing in the city of Anchorage due to all of the parks and cross-country ski trails. There is even a small ski mountain within the city.

Tonight we are going to an 'extreme Thursday' at a local bar after we go riding. Tomorrow I fly to Vancouver, where I have finally secured a place to stay and I have a couple of leads on places to ride but no firm contacts. I think I'll work something out. I'm not sure if my cell phone will work, but I will be able to check messages on it either way. Email as well. Really looking fwd to riding the north shore stuff down there. Peace!

10-day bike trip to Denali National Park

Well, well, 2 seasons later and 1 year older (on paper!) and I am back in the Anchorage public library typing away the details of my previous week. I left on Wednesday the 17th and was away for 10 days with my mountain bike, bob trailer and plenty of warm clothing. I spent two days riding in some light snow showers and a day (my birthday!) riding in pouring rain, and two days pedaling at 6 miles an hour into strong head winds. When I left it was officially still summer, but I have to say that I experienced summer, fall and winter within a week.

I came here with the idea that I wanted to see the state and test out doing some cold weather riding/camping. I got what I was looking for. I was only at 2000-2300 ft, but I was also within 300 or so miles of the Arctic Circle. As I rode north each night got colder. First there was ice in my water bottle, then ice in my nalgene in my tent. At my furthest point north I had my nalgene freeze SOLID inside my tent. My sleeping bag kept me warm despite the layer of ice that formed on the top where the moisture in my breath had frozen. I paid to camp twice; despite every night sleeping at an established campground. Most were state run and completely empty. One nights I woke up in time to look out of my tent and see the northern lights. Another night I had a view of Mt. Denali (the LARGEST mountain in the world, it stands at only 20,000 ft, but is 18,000 ft above the range level. Everest, for example, is 29,000 ft high, but only 11,000 ft higher than the range it is in.) from my tent door. I didn’t do any long hikes, but had ample opportunity to hike around the trails at the campsites, if I wasn't too cold. My morning off in the national park I was eating cereal with water and powdered soymilk and the liquid was freezing as I ate it-I realized it when I was chewing on ice crystals. I decided to hang out in my tent for awhile until it warmed up a little. Vegan food was difficult to find outside of Anchorage, but I was able to make due because of all the food I had brought with me (mostly dehydrated refried beans, hummous, and curry lentil soup; chocolate; almonds; ramen noodles; and tvp).

I met some interesting locals, chatted with some rangers, and hung out with some other travelers. In the national park one night a French guy in his early 30's invited me for tea in his family's RV. Him, his wife and two kids (2.5 and 4 yrs old) had rented an RV in Montréal months ago and have just ended up in Alaska. Amazing. This is after them spending a couple months in southern Africa. They shared many travel stories from Africa and together we knocked Americans for their ignorance of US foreign policy. That night I thought a lot about where I might be when I am 33; will I be traveling in an RV with a wife and kids? Will I have been to Africa and lived all over the world as they have?

The next day I left to complete my round trip to Anchorage; I layered my miles so that I could stay at different campsites then on my way North. Why the same route? I had intended on taking the Denali Hwy East for its 135 gravel miles with no towns, and then looping back to Anchorage on different hwys. But after crossing a pass on my way North (in snow) I talked to a state trooper who made me decide otherwise. "All the hunters are getting out of there because of the weather. If it snows hard no one goes back there. Bring a lot of food and do not expect to see any other people. Prepare to be snowed in for a week, plus however long it will take to ride." A bit more than I was looking for this trip.

I have other stories, but I have to keep this at a readable length. Back in Anchorage we went hiking up to Exit Glacier on the Kenai Peninsula the day after I got back. Amazing. Today (Monday the 29th) it is raining and unfortunately it is suppose to rain all week. This gives me time to prepare for my trip to the Vancouver area. Apparently it is really a hot spot for Mnt biking. Anyone know anyone there? I still haven’t worked out a place to stay or an itinerary. I'll keep this posted. Thanks to everyone who sent me a b-day message.

One last thing: Everyone should check out this webpage for amazing pictures of an amazing bicycle journey from Alaska to the tip of South America: The Road South

Leaving Anchorage

Okay. So I bought a BOB trailer (tax free- thank you Alaskan oil) and I love it. Am thinking about selling it before I leave or just taking it with me and using it. It is something I will definitely use in the future. We'll see.

I should be leaving tomorrow and heading north from Anchorage towards Denali National Park, stopping along the way at smaller state parks. From there I hope to take the 135 mile unpaved Denali Hwy East, and then circle down and back towards Anchorage. Weather will be cold with possible snow accumulation, tourists will be minimal, and scenery should be splendid. I will try to update from the road, but you never know if that is a possibility.

I've got plenty of vegan chocolate and dehydrated beans so don’t worry about my eating. ha. My time is up at the library, so this is it for this entry. I miss everyone!

Yo from Alaska!

Leaving LA was drama, of course. Despite a guaranteed delivery day the BOB trailer I was borrowing did not arrive before I left. I (actually a 'we') were up until 3am packing my bike into 2 boxes in order to skirt the $80 bike charge. It ended up working, but sometimes, when you have had that little sleep, $80 seems like a small price to pay for a couple hours extra sleep.

Anyway, I finally arrive to Anchorage and am lucky to have my friend from Loma Linda picked me up at the airport. We had to kill time to wait for my luggage to arrive on the next flight and drove out past the water planes and saw a giant male moose! After an expensive meal I settled in for my first night of this long journey in the comfort of Marc's living room.

Without a BOB trailer my options are limited: I can buy one and continue as planned or I can take the expensive buses and just backpack around. But 5 days later I am still in Anchorage! Amazingly Marc and his friends have kept me super busy' I have been mountain biking and/or hiking every single day since I have been here.

The scenery has been superb. Within 45 minutes of the city is everything from beautiful mountains and glaciers to forests and lakes. All very accessible through parks and trails. One day we rode single track up through a ski resort and then hiked to a 4150 ft summit before blasting back down on our bikes. Saturday we did some of Johnson Pass Trail, a slightly technical trail with only moderate elevation gain that passes through spectacular scenery. Some parts were wooded with huge trees keeping out direct light and others parts were full of ferns and other plants that reminded me of central America. The trail was complete with wooded bridges and waterfalls. Yesterday we went to the hippy-ish town of Girdwood and rode some trails in search of a 'mountain bike park'. We never found it but had some fun times exploring.

Later in the day we met some kids on crazy downhill bikes (they look motorcycles with 7 inches of suspension on the front and back) who gave us the heads up on some trails. Turns out one kid is from Pennsylvania and used to ride BMX. We knew a bunch of the same kids. Finally we spent some time at the public sk8 park and I had a blast flying through it on my mountain bike, though being clipped in was kind of scary.

So what’s on my agenda now? Today is the first time I have been able to think about it. I heard that the only road into Denali is closed due to snow. That is surprising because the weather in Anchorage is at a comfortable 45-60 degrees everyday. If I want to get a BOB trailer I will have to buy one; which would not be a bad investment and there is no sales tax in Alaska. My options are limited because with only two weeks or so left I don’t have much time to cover a lot of miles (especially if I am riding through snow!). I might go backpacking for a week and then spend another week in Anchorage exploring on day trips or get a trailer and head south through the Kenia peninsula where the weather is warmer. Today I am going to get some better info on Denali.

Some quick bits: Food is expensive when eating out, but very reasonable at grocery stores. I got tofutti ice cream sandwiches 2 boxes for $5! Also organic broccoli and chocolate bars (the important things) are cheap.

Anchorage is a great city with all of the resources anyone needs for a trip at good prices. The REI here has the same prices as the online store.

Anchorage also has a system of parks with bike trails running through the city.

I have been making use of my zero degree sleeping bag by sleeping with the window open in the living room. bbbrrrrrr.

My cell phone works here and is not roaming!

I will try to update with what my plans are before I leave.

Thank you everyone for all the kind emails!

Off to Alaska!

Much time and energy went into this upcoming trip. It started as going to Ecuador for 3 months to work. Slowly the career/intellectual oriented trip motivation faded and the explore/adventure part of me took over. The original plan was to fly to Alaska and bike to Los Angeles-4000 miles solo-but time/weather were not permitting.

The rough, and I do mean rough, itinerary for this trip is 3.5 weeks in Alaska with my mountain bike and a BOB trailer with all my hiking gear. I will ride to national parks throughout the state and do some overnight hiking loops back to my bike. I will probably be sleeping outside 90% of the time I am in the state. Will it be cold? The weather is starting to cool this time of year; I am sure to have some below freezing nights. I have wisely upgraded some gear for this trip including a zero degree sleeping bag and an actual sleeping pad (as opposed to the 2ft x 2ft foam pad I have used for two previous trips).

What have not changed are my preparation methods. I leave in less than 48 hours and am still waiting to get the BOB trailer in the mail. I haven’t packed yet. My seatpost is bent and the local shop doesn't have the right size. Those who know me well would not expect anything better! ha. As usual though many of my friends have come through to help me out in many ways; I am extremely lucky to have the friends I have and am looking forward to reciprocating soon.

I don't know what else to say. I am so excited to explore new terrain with a different bike and a whole different mentality. This trip is less about the destination; I have no real schedule except to get back on the plane on October 3rd. Until then it is just my bike, some hiking gear, and me.

California to Belize final thoughts

Four weeks after flying back to the states is not the best time to write this, but I kept putting it off because I did not want summer to end. Sitting at a computer at my house, where school and work have already consumed me, I look back on our trip with such amazement. Did we really camp 40 feet from the highway numerous times? Ride in the rain for hours on end? Eat over 600 tortillas? I almost cannot believe it myself. When I talk to people about it, they think about it, ask a couple questions and then its back to the usual conversations. How can I explain something so fascinating in such a short period of time? I no longer think it is possible for someone to relate to this type of trip. It is so different from backpacking, yet so different from just riding a bike.

I miss the Mexican way of life. Much more laid back, lots of people were always chillin late into the night...everyone always said hello. Simplicity satisfies such a large percentage of the world's population, but not in the USA. Especially not in California. I see people working so hard at so many things and I always ask why. Why work so hard? What are the end benefits of stressing so often? It is one thing to work hard towards something you have thought long about, but unfortunately I think most people work hard because they think they are suppose to. That success is dependent on it. I have to disagree. I have stated in my journal over and over that this trip was about the process, not the end goal. It is a metaphor for life. And I now look at everything I do from this prospective.

Off of my soapbox. I have to give props to all the people who have made this trip more enjoyable. I am not going to try to name everyone, because too many people have sent me encouraging emails, gave me advice, gave me a place to stay, drove me around before and after the trip and put up with me in general. Though, I do have to especially thank Justin for making this trip such a great experience. It probably would not of been possible without him.

For everyone else reading this I hope this glimpse into my trip has motivated you in someway. Maybe not to go on a bike trip, but to change your world for the better in some way. Quit your job. Sell your car. Explore your environment. Talk to people you usually wouldn’t. Spend hours sitting in the travel section of a bookstore. You know that thing you have wanted to do since you were a kid? Why not start now?