BIKE GREASE, COFFEE AND MUMBLED CONTORTS OF LIFE BEHIND HANDLEBARS

The great U.S of K. United Pedals of America and in Bike we Trust. All Wheels Eastward.

2012-01-19T14:21:00.000-08:00

Its time for another ride, another chunk , another dig. Its not our world tour, thats still in a headlock till a further time. This is a ride from West to East in the ol U.S. I'll be traveling fairly light, on pavement and tapping out some pretty big days. Like the first time I rode across country, I've not much time and a late start. I told the bike shop I'd be back to work on March 1. California to New York, the dead of winter, just over a month and some visiting friends along the way. Yes I will be dipping down through the south(sorry MHT not that far south). It should be a pretty interesting ride.
Kelly and I have been on the West coast for a couple weeks now. She is gonna continue farming out here while I plow East. Though she will fly over me at some point. So really I'm just riding from Kelly to Kelly and looking to have a fat winter ride!

The Hammock collection

2012-01-19T11:42:00.000-08:00

Nicaragua and Isla de Ometepe

2012-01-19T11:39:00.000-08:00

My hand drawn map of Nicarauga. It and lots of local directions got me through just fine

The border crossing, post commotion

Anodized parts are alive and well in Nicarauga!

Flag on the ferry over to the island

Volcano Concepcion

Volcano Concepcion is still active while Maderas is dormant.

The fantastic view from one of our lake side camp spots.

If you can get a photo to show some incline, you know that bit is steep.

A little rock garden action.

dug out canoe

For all the steep spots we has come through this day, This bit was really not as bad as this sign makes it out to be.

The key word in this photo is espresso!

The not so revolutionary Che Guevara car ferry.

This horse ran past me going the other way. Then came the boy chasing it on the BMX. This when they both passed me again.

Howler Monkeys

Around to the left, back from the right

The long over due- No more a deux

2011-08-31T07:11:00.000-07:00

A bumpy and twisted road it has been. In the shadow of all that Kelly and I, subsequently, have been through with the loss of her brother. As many of you already know... We have hung up the panniers for a while. We are treading this beast out together back in the States.

We've got a great live/work gig going at a Organic farm in lower New York. We're a quick afternoons ride from Kelly's family just across the border in Jersey. A slightly longer afternoons ride to New York City and better still, the Catskills out the back door. I'm kept busy scratching around, tinkering with things on the farm and working part time at Peoples Bikes bike shop. Kelly is working at the farmers markets and is the farms power house weeder, baker, harvester and canner.

There is some fantastic cycling to be had and I take every opportunity to poach club rides, explore new paths and hammer anything that looks like an incline. Among these busy, temporary, stationary lives we are forging, Kelly and I look to spend as much time together as day light and sleep will allow. There is nothing more important than sharing life with the person you love. She is teaching me this more and more with every passing day.

That said. Old habits die hard. Some itches can never be scratched and my first love of meandering roads and trails and nights spent out of doors will always be the SPD compatible loafer on the other foot. Next month Barry the Whale, Ben and I are set to spend 2 weeks mawing down and shredding The Arizona Trail. Like a pack of wolves chasing the sent of singletrack, all day epics, dusty desert air and pine forests!

Panama

2011-05-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

I got in mind to get myself stashed into a little surf/ fishing village along the pacific coast. Staying put for a few days so as to get things caught up, hammered out and spackled. Till then I´ll let Dave do the singing.

Costa Rica (with new pics)

2011-05-19T08:22:00.000-07:00

Volcanic islands, the Pacific surf, and the cycling company of Germans

2011-05-08T11:25:00.000-07:00

I rode a decent chunk of the Pan-americana, though turned off towards Granada. A colonial city at the top of Largo de Nicarauga. At the hostal de Libertad I met Matius and Jaspar (some fair skinned Danes), with them on rented bikes we explored the penisula de Asese. A great day getting lost on gravel roads and eventually finding a beautiful swimming spot, among jungle vines and little islands.
They had come out for a taste of my lifestyle and that night they showed me theirs. Those guys we nightlife assasins, we killed the night and I'm glad it was the right hostal I woke up in.
The next day there was a loaded touring bike parked in the hostal courtyard. It belonged to Jurgen (umlauts above the u) , he has been riding since Anchorage. We did some work to his rig and set out the next morning for Isla de Ometepe. Jurgen had been riding with Silke the last few weeks (the german woman Kelly and I had met back in the Yucatan). She was already on the island and met us at the ferry when we got off. The 3 of us camped on the edge of the lake, the next day swimming at ojo de agua. That night we set up camp at Finca de Magdalena , preparing for an assult on the volcano Maderas the next morning.
The climb started out hot and dry but soon turned slippery, wet and muddy. The top was pretty anticlimatic since all we could see was the grey cloud we were in. Kind of like if you sloppily frosted a cupcake up sidedown.
Silke and I said good bye to Jurgen and went off in search of free camping. We found a great spot not far away with a fantastic sunset view that more than made up for the lack of earlier.
There is also a rocky heart rate readout of a road around the volcano Maderas. An excellent road for the off pavement enthusiast, not so much for the other. Silke didn't quite enjoy herself the way i did. She really is carring a massive amount of gear and its all a bit top heavy. Watching her push up the rocky slopes was kinda like watching someone eat a box of kleenex, painful. ( I tried to help when ever prudent but with most touring cyclist there is a certain pride in getting your own bike over whats in front of you) She prevailed and we made it around and found another lake side camp spot, full circle.
The Che Geuvara car ferry got us back to the mainland. We cranked it over to the Pacific in time for another sunset and beach camp spot.
We are now in San Juan del Sur. I gotta say the thing I do appreciate about ex-pats is their coffe shops. Its a nice treat to find a place that has a real and truely well constructed cup of coffee. In San Juan, you can find that at the El gato Negro.

Cut and dry there you have it. I'm still without a camera cord or card reader but hopefully I'll come across one soon. So still no pics fer a bit. And those of you who follow the SPOT, the batteries are dead, Kelly is sending me new ones to San Jose, Costa rica. I wish it was her that was being sent in, but that time will come.

The great Nicaraguan pedal fest.

2011-04-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

Picture you self as a rock. Now pitch yourself at a bees nest. Thats how I felt at the Honduras/ Nicaraguan border. Swarmed by money changers, taxi drivers, truckers, cops, border agents, beggers, beggers helpers, donkeys and children. I had my passport checked, rechecked and then checked again before zooming down into this new country. It nice to turn leaves and reset the where-abouts in that grander kind of scale.Like Limperas to Cordobas and many new brands of coffee. There so far are alot more smiles and waves that make the day for a passing cyclist. Even the guy who slowed to tow me up a long grade on his motorcycle, is surely helping to warm my heart to Nicaragua. I´m bound for the west side and the string of vocanos out there. I think there is gonna be some surfing in my near future as well.

Leg disembowelment

2011-04-25T09:44:00.000-07:00

I've cut a nice trail away from the Carribean coast. Dusty, washboard Moutain roads, seems like all of honduras is on fire. Something of a controlled burn that is not to controlled. The smoke burns the lungs and cast a haze over the sun making it a red orb in the sky. I'm certainly not used to riding my old pace. I have either been laying soft on the pedals or checking over my shoulder every few minutes for the last 9 months. No that it was a bad thing to slow down a bit and enjoy things from a moderated pace. The company was good too. It just came as a bit of a shock to the legs at the speed and distance my mind wanted to ride. I guess I'm also trying to put Honduras behind me, my least favorite country pretty much of all time.
I'm in the pueblo of Talanga and should be crossing into Nicaragua tomorrow.
I gotta get a new camera cord before I can post any pictures but I'll try and keep the reports a bit less sporatic these days. Time fer lunch and a some pedaling!

As the irrelative weight of rolling stones and sheer magnitude of tumble weeds we find ourselves riding in the lee of repercussions.

2011-04-21T18:58:00.000-07:00

   With the ease of putting on a poncho backwards and or whacking a mad slice at our first attempt at high velocity mini-golf, some changes come easy. Others leave lumps in the throat and are tough to scratch with sandpaper.
   This is the part where I admit that Kelly has gone back to New Jersey. The loss of her brother and the strain of this ever shifting and difficult way of living had taken its toll. She is the toughest female I have ever know but some things just get the better of the best. She is gonna take a time out, convalesce and we'll see her out and plowing the fields of the unknown again at a later time. She is all the stronger and intellegent in my mind for knowing when to call it. She is never one to think of herself and always trying to please others, but in this case, Kelly needs Kelly time. Samu and I will miss her everyday.

   So the change of agenda for me is to not to plunk into the swamps and rainforrests of the Moskitia. Instead I'm gonna stomp some pedals over dusty highlands towards Nicaragua and the Pacific coast. Eat, sleep, ride. Just what I love to do!

One bend, a fart and a fish

2011-04-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

We are plowing along nicely through the montains of Hondurus. The roads have been rocky and steep but we have been loving i!. It a nice break to be up higher in some dry, pine forrest. Though soon we will be plunging and bumping back to the swelter of the Carribean.
A cyclist by the name of Zack, came and went. We shared a few good days and some rugged terrain together but he has gone off to persue other, less english spoken roads . We are now also pedaling with Anna Wishfish. She has been riding since Alaska and is quite a hearty Austrailian, old enough to be Kelly´s mom.
I´ll get some pics up on this beast in Trullio.

We need no stinking badges!

2011-04-04T11:29:00.000-07:00

Ok er... ya well I once again am opting out of typing. Cuz that takes an attention span and mine dosen´t exactly span to far. We´re now running a in parade of 4 and bound for the Honduran Moskita coast. We´ve heard tale of some fantasticy long single track action out there, so were gonna see about running it down!
I swear at some point I´ll sit down and catch up on the recent tales. Though for now if it involves any kind of work, that will be in the saddle of my bike.

facination and love of a land unknown

2011-03-27T13:33:00.000-07:00

trbidi="on">

Ahhh... those are the comfy undies I remember

2011-03-14T15:06:00.000-07:00

Like rats in a hay loft, hoses in an orchard, pigs in the mud and seagulls at the dump! Man, do I feel back in my element, reinspired for life on a bike and being constantly out of doors! With the life dream resumed, we are happily pedaling into the wayward mulligan. Thank you to everyone in the New Jersey, New York, California and Colorado areas that helped us out with new gear, fantastic meals and many other random acts of kindness. It was nice meeting all of you that I met for the first time and great to see again some old friends.

Shotgun!...

2011-03-10T09:53:00.000-08:00

Same seats! I get the long bike! What...Its mine. Yaahu.

We have resumed coarse, Phazers on stun. Brakes disconnected? Check.

Stay tuned for more Belezian back road pedal kicking!

A massive little distance

2011-02-23T14:04:00.000-08:00

Sorry to leave ya'll hanging. I know its been quite some time since I've scratched out any travel reports. So this should get us across the gap and back to crawling. Some of these pictures are blurry from swimming with my camera, so don't try to clean that spot on your screen, it wont help.

We had plowed headlong into the Caribbean at Puerto Morelos. We spent a few days on the beach there, camping, swinging in hammocks and fishing, only a short beach skip from town.
Kelly's Ma, Jane had decided to come and spend here vacation with us. So when it was time, we broke camp and rode up to meet her at a scary yet stupefying "All inclusive" resort. I'm sure we were the first filthy cyclist to crash this gate and begrudgingly be omitted to the inner sanctions of such pomp and splendor. As out of place as I felt I was more than ready to shred the buffet and gallop about in a fuzzy bath robe!

Jane was unfortunately slightly delayed due to storms on the East Coast. Though when she did get in, we spent a really pleasant time Eating!!, resting, drinking and hanging out. I thought I played a good undercover dirtbag, though I did get busted once when the fancy restaurant dress code called me out on my lack of long pants.

At the end of the week we said good-bye to Jane and happily remounted our bikes. With a mad dash through bustling Cancun, we hopped the ferry out to Isla Mujeres. The overly optimistic plan was to catch a passing sailboat out to the Cuban rock. Unfortunately our window of time was small since we were running on the last days of our 180 day Mexico visas. Then further information pretty much closed the window completely. Kelly had talked to a few folks with sailboats possibly going out that way but being that we are Americans no one would even consider giving us a lift.

Its not illegal for us to go to Cuba, its just illegal for us to spend money there. That's between us and the U.S. Treasury and we felt they didn't need to know. Some get sniffed out by returning to the U.S. right after a visit to Cuba. An immigration official may find entry and exit stamps from Mexico and no other country's stamps between(Cuba normally won't stamp American passports just the travel visa). Though other things like bureaucracy, strange laws and the infamous embargo also play a fat hand at being pains in the neck bone. If we went out with someone on their boat we could very well not have been allowed off of it. We wanted to see a bit more than the Havana marina.

So we let our romantic dreams of hitchhiking to Cuba float away in the Caribbean riptide. We felt better for at least trying. The few days we spent on Isla Mujeres were really quite nice but eventually we sucked it up and headed back to Cancun to catch a flight to Cuba.

We sat down with a Cuban travel agent and started hacking through an itinerary. We knew it was gonna be expensive but as it just kept cha-chinging skyward we began to squirm and scratch our heads. Airfare costs, oversize luggage fees for the bikes, daily insurance charges, visa fees, exit fees, all with peak season upcharges heaped on! We could ride aquatic bikes in one day to Cuba but it started to feel much farther away than that. We were looking at it costing 5 to 6x our average monthly budget for 30 days all said and done. My teeth began to itch. I wanted to go but it started to seem foolish to spend so much on a side trip. In the middle of haggling and debating prices the travel agent throws in that he has a friend that would pay our flight costs for "transporting" goods. (A Cuban midnight express flashed through my brain) Nothing illegal he said, just supplies and things for those in need. Save money and help out by delivering medication or supplies? It seemed like a great option and I actually read of others doing this before. We were all for it but we needed to wait for him to get a hold of his contact. He asked us to check back in a few days when he said he may be able to give us an answer.

We prepared ourselves for a stay in the bowels of Cancun. But first we needed to get our visas extended. Naively we thought, or just hoped, that we could show up at an immigration office, explain our story and get a few more days tacked on. The immigration office downtown was closed so we rode the busy freeway out to the airport. After lots of explaining and reexplaining we were told "officially" not to worry about it. They said if it's a month or so over that's one thing, but just a few days, its no big thing. So we became illegal immigrants in Mexico.
We rode a long ways north of Cancun and camped for a few nights. Spending a day and night on one of the most quiet and peaceful beaches we had found yet.

Back at the travel agent's, he still had no word for us, he'd gotten no contact from his contact.
We resigned to spend a few more days waiting. We don't use Couch Surfer often but at times it has proved to be a great way to meet people and get a place to crash. Gaspar and Michael were truly fantastic in hooking us up. We stayed for many days running errands and still hoping to get to Cuba without it costing us 7 left arms.

After waiting a week we were no closer. The travel agent still had no word. We'd been stewing, waiting and holding our breath. All I wanted to do was get on my bike and ride. Kelly, when looking at a world map, was the first to ring the dinner bell of reason. We had so much in front of us to put ourselves out for such a small distance. We would really be losing sight of the big picture. It would be different if Cuba was our end goal, but we have a lot, lot farther to go.

All that said, it brings us back around to one of my favorite things: We decided to just get on our bikes and keep riding! Cuba my dear, you'll have to wait.

The repulsive crowds and entry fees for the Tulum Mayan ruins had us sneak some peaks over the fence and call it good. As much as we have liked learning about Mayan history and seen the places where these once great civilizations stood, the way they are handled and buried in such tourism, we can't swallow them easily.

The good thing that did come out of our visit to Tulum was meeting a German cyclist named Silke. She has been riding south since the Alaskan panhandle and plans on continuing south to Tierra del Fuego, climbing mountains long the way. At 47 she is a real inspiration and wonderful person to ride with. She's a stout legged grandma who constantly crushes a tall gear and seems nowhere near her age.

The 3 of us continued on towards the Belize border together. Unlike the thousands of miles of rural Mexico Kelly and I have ridden, touring cyclist are in no drought along this busy hwy at the end of the country. Our second day with Silke we heaped up with 3 other loaded bikes and riders. One guy from Poland was going the other way but Sara and Evan were pedaling in the same direction as us. They were from Alaska (Minnesota) and were escaping the winter for a while. So 3 became 5. We rode as a swarm for the next several days, searching out great camp spots and talking into the night around fires.

We crossed into Belize, mine and Kelly's first new country in over 6 months. We had no problem leaving Mexico, the immigration official had nothing to say about us being over our visa time!

Corozal was our first Belizan town of girth, though after that we turned onto a fantastic series of dirt backways. Off the beaten path and in small villages we explored the Northern coast and then made our way down to Ladyville. There we said good-by to Sara and Evan. They were bound for a Guatamalan language school. We hope to meet up with them again later!

Silke, Kelly and I plowed the remaining distance to Belize City and right through to the water taxi port. Just in time, jumping aboard the last water taxi out to Caye Caulker that day. Caye Caulker is village on a small island about 25km out in the Caribbean.
It was this night on this small, carless but crowded island that we got some truly awful news. I went off to check my email quickly while Kelly hung out with some other travelers we had met. I found out then that she had a massive family emergency and needed to get home. With as straight face as possible I got her to a phone so she could hear from her family that she had lost her youngest brother. Never before have I seen someone I love go through so much pain. I don't even have words for what a truly horrific ordeal this has been for her and her family. So I won't say much more about it. You can read the tribute she wrote to him on her page.

The next day we caught a flight up here to New Jersey so she could be home for the funeral. We have been here for a few weeks and leave in a few more. We'll be back to our bikes, trip and Belize soon!

What the hell is that?

2011-02-03T20:26:00.000-08:00

As we rounded a corner in Belize I saw 3 guys struggling out of the sugar cane with this...thing. We stopped in the road and they basically plopped it at our feet.

Just a python that ate a bit to big of a lemur and exploded. Thats all.

They said they had to go back in for the other half of the python.

No 2 are ever the same

2011-01-08T21:48:00.000-08:00

There is just something about a nice quiet little passage vanishing into the distance that will never get old.

If I was into snow flakes instead of traveling? I guess I would spend a lot of time groping around at higher elevations during certain times of the year with a magnifying glass. But instead I think I'll go ride my bike

I'd rather leave more unsaid than roads unridden

Extracting a thorn from my side

2011-01-08T17:59:00.000-08:00

A few thousand Kms ago my rear hub started acting like it wanted to go somewhere other than with me. When I put pressure on the pedals there was a rather disgusting auditory crack. It went hand in hand with regular slipping, sometimes just a bit of one rotation but at times it was like freewheeling in both directions. This clutch slipping, spin class action didn't happen all the time but definitely almost threw me over the bars on more than a few occasions.
I knew the cassette/hub body was shot. That was obvious but the hard part was getting a replacement. Its a proprietary part for Halo hubs. There is no walking into a bike shop to buy a new one, at least not in Mexico. I contacted Halo directly and they were fantastically helpful. It was no problem to explain my situation and have them jump onboard with sending me replacement parts ASAP. These were coming from England so I had them shipped to a bike shop way ahead in Oaxaca.
In the mean time I flushed out the hub body with WD-40 and then soaked some chain oil into its bearings. This helped a lot. The popping and crackling stayed but most the skipping stopped. I thought it was case closed and just needed to get the 1000 or so Kms down to Oaxaca. As annoying as it was, she held together and we made it down.
I hit the bike shop with my fingers crossed... No dice. Nothing ever showed. Not while we were in the city that week or ever. Halo sent it but it never made it. So very typical for the Mexico mail system, we have since learned. Halo had no tracking # and the post office and bike shop did nothing but shrug their shoulders at me. What was I to do but ride on?
We had met Wolf and Javier and really wanted to cycle south with them. My plan was to return to Oaxaca on the bus when I got an e-mail from the bike shop. I'm still waiting on that e-mail.
As the Kilometers went by it got worse and worse. Just about every time I engaged the drive train there would be a crunch and a loss of half a pedal stroke or so. I expected every day to be left stranded A.K.A having to hitch hike.
We were now so far away from Oaxaca that it was more in bus fare than the price of the new part. So I contacted Jeff in Durango and he ordered me one from BTI. This was relayed to Kelly's mother who flew down to visit on her vacation and she hand delivered it to me. It was nice to hold in my hand the one piece that would give back my faith in Samu as a reliable rig and the confidence and smoothness in my cadence. As a bike mechanic this was a long run of cruel torture- A problem with my own bike I could not fix.
Here in Cancun, the Benotto dealer turned over their shop to me. This is what I found:
Shattered chunks of steel

the remnants of my cassette/ hub body

The rat bastard on left. 3/4" wrench not actually used for anything.

new bearings ass well!

I just wanna say THANX to Halo in their valid attempt at help me out and to Jeff at Papa Wheelies for being a Pal and gophering for me. And to Kelly's Mum in hand delivering some much needed supplies to us!

Oh Mexico, you erratic and wonderfully savage rudder

2011-01-06T20:38:00.000-08:00

We've now ridden the whole whip. Scribbled the length of the southern fin. Rolled our tread across the gilded face of our latin neighbor's outback. Yes... We've ran the gauntlet on the bottleneck and have found ourselves gaping at a turquoise ocean! It seems a lifetime now that we have crammed into this last 6 months in Mexico. The faces of so many friendly people and the labyrinth of dirt and paved byways. The memories are as vivid in my brain as the smell of this coffee next to me. If only I could expel onto this keyboard some of the beauty, adventure, friends and experiences we have met here. In a country under so much speculation and a place we were warned so strongly against. I really have nothing negative to mutter, no piss to moan, no bitch to pitch on the band wagon of nay say-ers. Yes there is corruption, pollution, crime and poverty, but what country doesn't have that?
As for Mexico, all in all... As we pedaled through her, stumbling in our learning and understanding of the language, cultures and landscape. Never once were we shunned from the bosom or rarely shown anything but kindness and hospitality. We got stared and laughed at a lot but thats cuz we look goofy and talk funny.
I wrote this mainly for a few reasons: 1)We both really enjoyed Mexico 2) We are at the bottom of it. 3) To put in my 3 pesos for all the cyclist wondering if they should or if it means instant death CYCLING BIKING BICYCLING MEXICO
I think you know how we feel? hint: sandy, greasy, dirty, firm in the tush, tan, happy

Whats the happs latley?

2010-12-27T13:16:00.000-08:00

DOGS

Bikes

TRAILS

Fires

Handlebar bag tortillas

and Loving this girl!

Old rock heaps

2010-12-27T12:24:00.000-08:00

Climbing through the ruins at Palenque I found some graffiti from the early 1800's. Its nice to think that that is like yesterday in the building's lifetime. I play the same game for massive old growth trees, like wondering what the world looked like when they were just saplings. Though with these old civilizations its more like being the eyes of a certain stone. To see the beginning, the floor plan, its first foundation. Generally all that eventually lead to the distasteful hierarchy, heartless slavery, the sacrifice, the wars, battles fought and the city's general life and living conditions. Also to not even know about bicycles and coffee to even miss them?

Palenque

Bonampak

A little slip into the seething and looming jungle

2010-12-03T08:24:00.000-08:00

We`re now spilling out of Chiapan highlands and plowing down towards the Guatamalan border. Though we wont be crossing into Guatamala yet, and really just licking the border while heading up to the Yucatan. This route of jungle canopy, waterfalls, swimming cenotes, and maya ruins has got us as giddy as the spider monkeys we´ll see along the way. We´ll be up dating our route with the SPOT but I won´t have a new posting here for a few weeks. I´m developing an allergy to computers so hopefully some time cycling in the jungle wilds will cure it?

I just wonder how many will become ninjas?

2010-11-26T15:11:00.000-08:00

1 out of every 1000 baby sea turtles survive. Turtle poaching was made illegal in the 90s but still they are hunted quite often for their meat and eggs. Not just by humans but seems like every other animal also wants to make snack out of them. I licked one but it really didn't taste very good.

We wanted to help out and do what we could to increase the chances for some of these little guys. So we went to the turtle sanctuary in Puerto Arista with intention of putting in some volunteer time. But we found there was not much for us really to do(at least at this one). William and his uncle Toni who who pretty much run the place had crashed the truck into some poachers a little while before we got there. So there was no going out to collect anymore eggs at the time. All there really was to do was lay around in a hammock and wait for the previously rescued incubated eggs to hatch. Just before sunset the little guys that hatched that day were counted and carried down to the awaiting ocean. It was a fantastic scene to watch them scramble into the surf, see them swim off to their new under sea world and only hope that the ones we touched would have a better chance at survival. Don't skip them into the water, they don't like that!

Samu's first 10,000 miles and something of a long awaited review

2010-11-26T10:15:00.000-08:00

Samu the Savage Mule has come of age. With flapping colors and gear spinning persistence, together we have heaved across this milestone. Let this post stand as his bike-mitzvah and my way for saying thanx for carrying me the distance. He is the brain child of many past tours. A compiled frankin-bike built from the hard learned things that failed or I would have like to have done differently before. His theme is beefy off-road self sufficiency. His length supplies the extra space for carrying the supplies while the wheel base supplies the stability for the weight of extra supplies.(su-P-lize!) And he is fun to ride.
A few of his highlights are:
A 48 spoke rear wheel with meaty "Down hill" rim by Halo (nothing takes a beating more than the aft wheel. If there is one place not to skimp on the touring bike build, its this wheel. More spokes= stronger wheel. Popping spokes and a collapsing wheel is the thorn in the side of so many touring cyclist. In my opinion, if yer going out for the rugged long run, its best to put the extra spokes in the wheel in the beginning... not one at a time later on, on the side of the road!)
Mechanical disk brakes (Why build a fatty wheel set and then cut their life short by wearing through the rim's braking surface. Also for better stopping power in wet and muddy conditions.)
Schmidt Dynamo Hub This front hub has been effin' fabulous. Hands down the best dynamo hub on the market. There is virtually no drag while it cranks out 6 volts of power. I rely on this dude for superior lighting as well as charging various batteries while I ride.)
Spiderflex Saddle By far the most durable and comfortable "nose less" saddle to be found. It takes some getting used to but is far more comfortable in the long run. Plus it will keep yer Nads from getting operated on.
Outboard bearing crank set There is a lot of debate in this matter. Many argue on the side of square taper cranks and being able to find bottom bracket replacements easier in far flung places. As this has some truth. Square taper cranks have been around since the 30s and the outboard bearing crank system only hit the mass market in 2003. But the nice thing about the out board bearing is being able to replace just the bearing and not having to get a whole new bottom bracket cartridge/ spindle. The bearings are lighter weight for carrying spares and can be tapped out and repressed in any kind of mechanic shop. I'm running Shimano XT hollow tec2 cranks and here is the story to prove my point: I bought them used off an unnamed douche bag down hiller. So I don't know what the wear on the bearings were before I got them, but in any case I rode for a year and a half and 10,000 plus miles on them through every condition. Though just the other day I noticed a bit of play between the cranks at the bottom bracket. Further inspection showed one of the bearings crunchy and needing replacement soon. Oaxaca, the next big city I found a shop with after market 24mm Enduro bearings at a 1/3 of the price of the new Shimano BB. A bit further along in Puerto Escondito at Tello's shop. I pulled the cups out of the frame and tapped the press fitted bearings out with a punch and hammer. I found that a 1 1/8 headset crown race was the perfect diameter to use as the drift (you never want to push on the inner race of the bearing). So this steel crown race lined up nicely with the outer bearing race to press fit it back into the cup. I put two blocks of wood in the bench vice and the cup, bearing and drift inbetween them. The bearings slipped right back into the cups and I had them back on the bike in minutes. This was such a easy process and I soon realized that I could have left the cups in the frame and used only a flat head screw driver, a rock, a block of wood and my little crown race drift and done this on the side of the road. Plus the new Enduro bearings are a bit beefier that the stock ones. These bearings can be ordered from any bike shop in the U.S. or bought at most bearing companys. They´re like carrying the weight of a golf ball and four plastic spoons (standard pic-nic issue white). Yea, Shimano tells you right on the cup "do not dissasemble" but what ever. They also tell you that their chains are not compatible with any other and I've been running a half Shimano half Sram chain with no explosion problems.
Other things of note: 8 speed drive train for longer chain life. Shimano Saint rear derailure. Salsa bash guard (this has saved many bent and mangled teeth on my outter ring) Titec H-bar and Ergon grips for paw, shoulder, and assneck comfort, Schwalbe tires.
And for the big "what the hell is that" feature Xtracycle is a great little company whose been cranking out the long tail bikes for some time now. A great concept and good design for what they are. But any one wanting to get a bit belligerent with one finds themselves with durability issues A.K.A snappage. So this was rectified with the Surly Big Dummy frame. A strong option but then you are locked into the length of it all. I dreamed of something slightly shorter with the option of unbolting it and having a hardtail Mtn bike again or for making a smaller bundle for shipping if needed.
I got my mitts on a good priced broken Xtracycle free radical frame. These bolt into a standard bike frame at the rear drop outs with an extension arm that lays a tongue across the chain stay bridge. The problem is that all the downward force transfers to this little tongue. So if they get over loaded or hammered on in rough terrain this appendage likes to snap right off.
So the Free Radical frame I got was broken at this vital link. (Thanx to the fantastic kindness of Mike Stangl for opening up his metal shop to me!) I set to work hacking it up and expanding on it right away. I brazed back on the broken off tongue and added some extra gussets for strength. Then cut 10 inches off the back end of it and built the top end giving it another connection point to the frame. This is what really made all the difference. It takes all the pressure off the lower link and in addition also stops a shit ton of the torsional flexing when loaded. I feel that its all the bonus of the long tail with none of the draw backs.
P.S. the funnest part was milling down old crank arms to make the free radical connection backing plates.

Splatter fest!

2010-11-17T10:23:00.000-08:00

Man... Its really been a sweet run. I don´t even know where to begin. Hence the splatter fest. theme! This posting is all over it self. Like a sesame street activity. I´ll let you match the picture to the blurbs.

In Oaxaca we met Wolf and Javier. Two other cyclists mobing about sothern mexico and Guatamala. Together we rode the fantasticly windy, potholed old road to Perto Escondito. The first cyclists we´ve ridden with in Mexico and I think its mutual that it was a damn good time! Cheers and Prost! Good riding with you guys! Take care!

In Zipolite we ran into our friends from the Huasteca (The ones we snuck into ¨the bridge of god¨with) and had some cold beers and loungy beach time.

Fresh water streams, road side mezcal stands, goarging feast, sweet camp spots, epic moutain climbs and breath vomiting vistas! FOMO fits prevail! Its all there all the time. Just going on. Makes me itch all over and feel faint yet twitchy

Tucked into A corner of Peurto Escondito you can find: Bicitodo/Bike Center. At first it doesent look any different than any other simple bike shop. But get inside and Meet Tello and every thing changes! He is an extremely friendly guy who has had a long career of bicycle mechanics and racing. He also leads tours into the surrounding mtns., speaks perfect english and is up on current and high end parts. If you are touring and need service, dont even go to the other shops and have them shrug at your problem while they wrench a tire off a rim with a claw hammer. Just go see Tello at the bike center!

Oh yea... We found the Ocean

We had been on the coast for about a week and still had not found ourselves the hidden beach cove we had been looking forward to. South of puerto Angel we took a random turn down a dirt road that plummeted us back shore side. Though it felt like it, we wern´t completly alone at this beautiful little paradise. There was a small ritzy hotel on the far side of the cove. Kelly went over to just let them know we would be camped on the other side. They said¨"There is No camping, sorry". Well, all beaches in Mexico are Federal propperty which means public. We stayed two nights telling each other "No camping".

Were off now to see about helping out some baby sea turtles make it into the big salty.

whaahwaahahahhaa...splash

2010-11-17T10:13:00.000-08:00

Kell wasted no time. This was the scene seconds ater reaching the long awaited Pacific.

Ricardo "Monte Alban" and the Fantasy Island

2010-11-05T07:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry... We found no small person named Tattoo but, we did find these rather old and well placed rocks!

Every now and again when no one is looking we sneak off and play tourists. Its a nice break from our regular daily habit of Gringo Cyclist.
Monte Alban is an ancient Zapotec capital supposedly first inhabited around 500 B.C. with a 360 degree view of the surrounding peaks. Its long and sorted history is well more than I feel like typing so check here.
It was great ride into the mountains above Oaxaca well worth a snoop around (even if the catacombs are blocked off, taking all the real fun out of it) .

An inert and beautiful onslaught

2010-11-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

Many nights between here (Oaxaca) and Chapala we found ourselves crawling into our tent at night and remarking dreamily at what a great day it was. This happens often but recently it has seemed so much more in repetition than usual. Maybe the barrage of meeting great people, finding fantastic camp spots and a complete submergence in a busy, interesting and often beautiful landscape had something to do with it? maybe?

So... As you can see these pics. are pretty much all over the map. Especially if you are looking at a Mexico section for Morelia to Oaxaca.

This kid was just killing us with how cute he was
A street dance party we jumped into during Dia de Muertos

Camped out waiting for Led Zeppelin tickets

Dia de meurtos cyclistas

most kids had store bought costumes or just a rubber mask. This girl was my favorite

the royal pig-pen procession

the spiders are as big as pigeons down here

We hate camping actually. especially spots like these!

I want you to kill all the gophers!

Keeping watch over the cornfields so no one trespasses.

She said she wasn't coming out... ever.

Some days this is what we get stuck having to look at. Damn our eyes.

Nope. This ain't Kansas

Andy and Toby. Andy was a great kid! Toby was a little troubled. Man, what a weird dog.

What the hell has that cat been eating?

The Morelia fast ride. Yep, I was the only one on a European flat bar, front suspended trekking bike... wearing sandals. The front three munched their chamois trying to drop me. It felt great to be on a lighterish rig hammering flat out.

Morelia critical mass.

A few friends we have met along the way

2010-11-02T16:28:00.000-07:00

djhfyfklnflh between the A and B

2010-10-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

Things have been trickling along. Some times we find ourselves standing against the current while other times we are flowing nicely with the stream.
Some gracious mosquito bastards were kind enough to pass a brutal case of Dengue Fever along to Kelly. It hit her pretty hard and had me uncomfortably gnawing on my lower lip as I stood by for a week and watched her battle through it. I'm happy to report however... it ran its course and she is back in action! She bounced back rather we'll actually and I'm proud of the way she kicked its ass and got back to business.
We went on to round the lake, making ex-pat friends and I got a chance to get some quality fishing time in.
The real thing I have to admit about running through foreigner trampled places is the chance to indulge in some good coffee. Course they also have the reason for being stormed as they are usually pretty nice places. But I think most of you know where coffee ranks in my prioritys?
The lake was beautiful, (if you don't dwell on the pollution and amount of plastic surgery walking pampered pets) we enjoyed it alot, most of all its cyclopista along the northern shore.

A turn of things.

2010-10-16T16:59:00.000-07:00

Riding along one morning there was a snapping sound that came from below me. Almost immediately it felt as if my left foot just stepped in some ones potato salad. If anyone remembers my incident in Montana? This is a spontaneous and semi-troublesome pic-nic I've attended before. My left spindle snapped once again leaving me to pedal one footed on a mountain road. Don't ask me what the deal is with my left foot. It just hates pedals.

Kelly rode on while I hitched for a ride. Some nice dudes in a coca-cola truck got me into the next village where I met her and got these sweet replacements:

And then in the larger San Miguel de Allende I got these used Shimano SPDs:

During this time I wrote to Crank Brothers to see If they could help me out once again. The last time they were spot on and super helpful in shipping me a replacement spindle kit! Again they were awesome to find it in their hearts to extend a helping crank arm. Though this time instead of the parts to fix my pedals, they sent new pedals. I don't want to seem ungrateful in any way. But its a down grade in pedals and I'm left with a small heap of old pedal only needing one part to fix.

One last time I'm going to give Crank Bros. pedals the benefit of doubt. Why not just continue to rock the Shimano pedals you ask? Because I like the smooth contact of the crank bros. brass cleat and two bar float system. Also they are easier to get in and out of and have no rattly clackety cleat/ pedal interface like I feel with SPD. Crank Brothers just have a habit of jumping ship is all. Yes, I will be carrying along the SPDs for back up (knowing the brutality of Clubber Lane A.k.A my Left foot). Anyone wanna bet on how much JRA it will take for Clubber to houze the new scm435 chromoly contender?

Photos from the saddle

2010-10-09T08:26:00.000-07:00

Just a small smatter of random pics shot while on the move.

A concrete wizard named E.J. and his mad jungle world

2010-09-25T15:11:00.000-07:00

We've been changing climates more than underwear. That's actually referring to socks since I used all my tighty whiteys for fire starters (about 20 years ago now). In the last week er so we have gone from arid desert and climbed our way into some soppy rainforest. Jungle fits the description better. Slithery, crawly jungle where every thing oozes and drips. The birds make as much noise as a constant mariachi band. Every square inch of everywhere is alive and writhing and things biting you becomes as regular as blinking.

In the heart of said such beautiful place there is a place called Las Pozas. It hangs on the edge of Xilitla in the Huasteca. A rich, eccentric Englishmen and friends set to work about 40 years ago creating large concrete structures. A big playground for artists and concrete masons. If you would like to look into this further his name was: Edward James (we called him Eddy Jim)

After a few days of hiking, swimming and Joan Wilder rides we climbed on towards the next climate. Into the clouds we went, like hobbled wild horses and gravity governed tumbleweeds. We could not see the mountains that loomed above us but we just knew they were there. The incline was steep and misty rain soaked us to the bone. Oh man... A huge thanx goes out to the guy who, on the night after leaving Xilitla, in a bucketing down pour did not even hesitate to take us in when we stopped in front of his little cliff side hacienda.

Grinding and winding, sopping and smiling, we spent the next bit enjoying the pig farts out of each other and our surroundings. We were in a fantastic cloud forest and in the fat of the Sierra Gorda. The rain showers came and went, blue patches peaked out and the Gorditas were cheap and greasy.
Then suddenly one day our road stopped going up. A fast screaming decent pursued and bang... back in the desert we rolled, blinking and feeling like new born sheep.

Were in the San Miguel de Allende (the touristyist place we've been yet) Up next: Laguna de Chapala

An East-Westernly South

2010-09-18T12:49:00.000-07:00

From Zacatecas we're thinking we might head out East to the Biospera Sierra Gorda but with further research and local advice, We discovered the Husteca! This lumped on a few more Kms to the original side mob but we have thanked ourselves every day. Really this last bit of time we've just been pedaling, hiking and cannonballing into scatterd and amazing waterfalls and swimming holes. Speaking of holes in the ground filled with water? We got our sites set on Mexico's largest lake: Largo Chapala. Its back out to the West. We'll get back to that whole heading south thing later.

Beans, mines, big cities and of course Coffee!

2010-09-05T13:16:00.000-07:00

For the larger sum of happs, check out: Kell's new and rather extensive postings .

A little canyon hopping (revised)

2010-08-15T11:54:00.000-07:00

I imagine Johnny Cash saying that it "kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile" Kelly said that "It was effin ridiculous" and I called it a "Rat bastard son of a trench in the earth". This is all just directed at the wrestling matches and Thunder Dome expierence we had with our bikes and getting them back out of the two deepest sections of the deepest canyon in North America. The expierence was awesome the effort was ass kicking.
We camped a couple of nights at Entre Amigos in Urique. A pretty sweet hostal/campground with a big communal kitchen (where Kelly baked us a delicious cake), concrete swimming pond and all the mangos you can give yerself the shits on! Also the backdrop for the "Old Bolsa in young hands fiasco" (more on that later).
After extracting as much information as possible about a road to Batopilas from Tomas and Luis, our hosts at the Amigos. Kell and I set out.
The road down steam to Guapalina rolled along excellently and was some great off pavement riding. Though in Guapalina we found no sign of the swinging bridge we had been told about and were left to ford the river. At first it was funny that my bike felt so light and basically floated but soon it became a tug of war match to keep from dysfunctionaly kayaking down stream. Word manglers note: Those of you who have seen this river before please bear in mind that it is now monsoon season and running rather high.
Though both of us eventually landed the far shore, Kelly with the awkward help of some local kids. We stared for a moment at the rocky and broken escalator in front of us. Locals just stared at us and chuckled amongst themselves. Up we went. Up the steepest rockies path I've ever had the mispleasure of shoving a heavy bicycle. We grunted, We cussed, We spat but ever slowly heaved upward stummbling and slipping into the night.
In the twilight after the next full day of this crackhead endeavor. We could finally see the canyon rim above us and were fool heartedly excited to feel the road level off some. Just before dark we over took some dudes on horses. They gave us directions, laughed at our gringosity and told us to turn around. We missed the turn. What turn? There was no turn? Well yes, there was a turn... just no road.
In the morning we could see up to where the blasting had stopped coming from the other way. Tomas had told us that the road was not quite finished but it was me that had just not put the 4 and 7 together to realized that it would be in the middle of a steep canyon section. duh.
The local Tarahumara and their goats have installed a faint splatter fest of switchbacks and paths connecting these two points. It was just up to us to conjure the want to shuttle gear and bikes between them.
It was a lot shorter than the shuttle runs Barry the Whale and I had done back in Colorado but it was retardedly steeper. Kelly once again impressed me with how tough she can be and shape shifted into some gear winging mountain goat. We slowly gained ground even though it felt like we slid back as much as we went up. I managed a fantastic butt scoot with my bike on my lap. Sweating and bloody we stood on top. We had done battle and clawed it out the hard way. Kelly threw rocks.
As much as I like to brutalize myself with physically demanding exploits this one mowed the whole birthday cake. I read a blogsite where a female cycle tourist came through on one of these roads also and compared it to the fun of childbirth. The funny thing in our case that really tickles the gag reflex is that after dropping down into Batopilas, a village at the bottom of the second deepest bit of canyon, We basically did the climb all over again.
This time the "road" from Batopilas to Yoquivo connected all the way... it just wasn't driveable. no complaints in the lack of traffic! This climb took us two and a piece of a day. There were uncountable land slides and down trees to pick our way through, all in a grade percentage that rarely left the high teens. It was hard work but really so worth it. The Copper Canyon region has to really be one of the most beautiful places in this part of the world. Remotely rugged with turd stealing views and no limitations on any recreation you wanna partake of!
Man, In just writing this I want to go back. Its amazing how a pit in the earth can really consume you. I had heard and thought of the Copper Canyons for years. Now that I've been there and been humbled and spanked by this massive rock cleavage I wont be forgetting it any time soon.
In getting to Guachochi... (the first real town free and clear of canyon land) Kelly comes out of the first store and says "man, It took all the will power in my body to not eat this donut in the store" I personally would have paid wearing a maple bar mustache.

The Grander of Canyons

2010-08-04T19:33:00.000-07:00

Like a bunch of fun loving, free loading yahoos. We plowed or rigs right into this ditch! America can keep their crowds of pasty, bloated RVers standing in line waiting for permits. There are other massive crevasses to cannonball! Other enormous clefts in the crust to go plummeting into! If you have not guessed by now? We have made the fantastic white-knuckle gambade into the Copper Canyon! I could have seared some Ahi on my disk brake rotors! We're like ants finding our way down a heap of rope. If Eddie Van Halen and Mozart got together it would sound like it felt to ride down here. Getting out? we'll think about that later.

If you like that kinda crap? Yes, Well actually... WE DO!

2010-08-04T18:32:00.000-07:00

Referring possibly to the largest "full time" waterfall in all of Mexico land? Thats the Basaseachic to you!

Butt Rock! more than just a way of life!

2010-07-22T10:49:00.001-07:00

El otro lado

2010-07-21T13:33:00.000-07:00

All is well and we are in Creel Mexico! This last week since crossing the border really could not have been much better. Regular afternoon monsoons have helped to keep us cool and rinse the salt crust from our clothes. We've slogged through mud, been chased by dogs,and found ourselves awesomly lost in a maze of high Seirra Madre dirtroads. We have also made some enthusiastic new friends both two and four legged and had to repeatedly mash our goofy gringo grins back into our faces.
Were now preparing our attack on the Copper Canyon and wanting to go multiple directions at once. I'll let you know how it goes.

And then there was... um.. 3?

2010-07-09T11:40:00.000-07:00

We have gained a new member to the party. Jez-bra has decided to come along for the ride! He flails a wild cadence and flaps some mad chops! This dude is traveling light! Just stashes all his food in that face hair! The best part is... decisions no longer will be solved with coin tosses or roshambo. We will just simply ask Jezra the answer. Like a true bro he'll stand guard while we sleep and guide our way on the back roads. Locking the bikes is no longer an issue and its real saftey in numbers now! I sure wouldn't mess with a guy with chops like those! All I got to do is share my coffee? No problem man, Thanx for coming along.

A year in the West

2010-07-08T12:15:00.000-07:00

The first of many lined up and hacked down. Its been more than a year and here we are: one time zone and two states away. A big loop with lots of in-betweens and some time stayed put. Mandudebro, lots of good times! High mountains, low valleys, burning spans and frozen stints. Were now at 7,072 miles and holding a pungent bucket of memories, An open Tapas bar of mental images and fantastic predicaments. Though really just a good warm up! A scenic testing ground, A divergence loop! Like doing a long slow back flip before the plunge into the real unknown.
In just a few days here this crew goes inter-nashio-nall! We've been hovering at about 120 miles above the Mexico border. Tomorrow morning all systems should be check and this pod is set to leave the mothership! This is not our first galactic mud fight but were stoked and damn ready to run head long and screaming into this infinite arena! Giddy and excited to smash, mangle and nuggie the ever on coming future. The relative is relative, Why? Because. Because. Why?... Were going Pro.

As the first Leg of this ride peels off and we emerge green, incomprehensible and spinning on foreign roadways, I would like to thank a few folks who really helped make this a great year: Kelly, My sisters, Ma, Jack, Jericka, Jazmine, The new Kaden, Dale, Dennis, Chris, Emily, Hubert, Liza, Chris, Lily, Ciano, Samm, Adrian, Gentlemen Chris, Jakon, Craig, Ty and the Bent spoke crew, E.T., Renee Trish, Mike (extra thanx for providing the shop space so I could bring Samu to life) The D5000, Ben, Red Tim, MHT, Mitch, Jezra (a huge thanx for the tec geeky geekness) Adam and Daniel, Selina, 7, Opie, Andy, Kemosabe, Bob, Falon, A really a effin huge Thanx to Jeff, Atlas and the Papa Wheelies for the mad hook up in Durango! and really a lot more that I'll come back to add as my brain spits you out.

A few random pics from the year....

torture, pure torture

2010-07-06T14:48:00.000-07:00

Rush hour traffic on the Great divide

2010-07-06T12:31:00.000-07:00

The newer of the 2 Mexicos

2010-07-02T11:57:00.000-07:00

Kelly and I have been meandering about southishly on the continental divide. Beautiful forests, rolling brush lands and little towns with super nice folks as the back drop for this rambling love story. We'll soon have larger updates when we get more computer time here in Silver City.

And then there was two!

2010-06-19T21:42:00.000-07:00

The infamous Kelly Donlan has crossed the desert and instantly doubled the size of this party! We met in Sedona the other day and with all hearts and bikes a-fire rode up here to Flagstaff. In the last few days we've hammered some business and devoured some good meals. Tomorrow after the farmer's market we pedal on towards Pie town, NM! A big Thanx to Craig in Sedona and Shark in Flag for being such amazing and gracious folks.

Kelly's good time cycling adventure action can be found at: http://uparoundthebend.wordpress.com/

Good Night Colorado

2010-06-10T17:03:00.000-07:00

Barry (the single speed historian whale) and I rode up out of Durango and mauwed head long into some fantastic wilderness. From Purgatory ski resort we staggered up and up then up again towards the Bolam Pass. We sorta kinda knew where we were going and more or less followed a developed trail. But really left it to mashing northish westerly.
Barry was carrying pretty much just a spare pair of undies while I on the other hand was back to my worldly kit. That sucker missed out only getting to hike the trail once where I got to do it three times! Running up one set of panniers then the next and then the bike. Setting a new first for me in all of my years of touring: The least amount of miles for most amount of effort! Though truly a great time just barging, enjoying a nightly campfires and listening to Barry ramble the history of the world.
We plopped out just south of the Lizard head pass on the 145. Then went up and over another pass on a extremely luxurious dirt road and got no love or supplies at the weird gated ghost town community of Dunton. We had planned to stay in the forest longer but my snail tail chasing pace had us way behind somebody's schedule, eating all our supplies and having to drop down to Dolores for burgers. No complaints here!

Rolling with the bling

2010-06-10T16:55:00.000-07:00

A big fat Thanx to Ron at King Cage for the new Titanium cages!

ON THE COMMODE AGAIN!!!!

2010-06-07T11:16:00.000-07:00

Yep! Samu the savage mule and I are back in action! Back on the world tour! Back to full time life on the road! Oh,yes... I'm smiling big enough for both of us!

Kurt? You can stop screaming. The AZT has left the building

2010-05-29T21:07:00.000-07:00

As a matter of saying I am a huge fan. I'd like to thank anyone and everyone who raised a rake or shovel and/or helped in anyway to create this fantastic trail! I couldn't help but feel sad as my tires left the trail head at the Utah border. There were thoughts of turning right around and heading for Mexico (except that I was still sore and limping). I have now a much deeper appreciation for the state of Arizona. The Sonora desert, Saguaro national park, The Superstition mountains, Coconino national forest, The Kaibab plateau and not to be left out; The Grand Canyon who's beauty runs as deep as the canyon walls.
I was on the AZT for a total of 10 days and enjoyed the pig crap out of it! A great little jagged strip across a fantastic chunk of the earth. What a ride! Joan Wilder What a ride!

A little shuffel through the big ditch

2010-05-29T17:41:00.000-07:00

I already knew my chances for an over night permit in the Grand Canyon were pretty much nill. But I went to the back country office to check anyways... yep... nope. Wait 3 days for a permit or hike rim to rim in one big whampum?
"As long as I don't set up camp and my wheels don't touch the ground then I'm good, Right?" "And little naps and long breaks are fine just no camping?" "Yea? Ok, got it".
I had my bike broken down, strapped to my back and was ready to cannonball in by about 1pm Friday. Down down down I went reaching the Colorado river by late afternoon. I felt like Chewbacca carrying C-3po. We took a long break at Bright Angel but got stumbling again towards Cottonwood at about dark. Man, miles seemed a bit longer with the bike riding me.
3po and I were crunching right along enjoying the ditch in the light of a half moon. Well, till our ol' friend the rattler suddenly showed up and made my pack feel weightless for half a sec. From there on my head-lamp blazed the path.
I'd give the shoulders and feet a rest about every 2 er 3 miles. I'd set C-3po down and feel like I was gonna float away. Somewhere about the 18thish mile my steps became more like dragging shuffles. In the middle of the night we're passed by other headlamps strapped to heads of pshyco human machines running rim to rim to rim. We shambled on.
I took my first little nap leaning back against a rock, just before the climb up the North Rim. When an eye unfortunately popped back open it was greying to the east, We got back to hobbling. Another power nap at the Supia tunnel put a bit of wind back in the sails to get me to the top. Where I was promptly almost tackled by Rangers. "You were in the canyon over night!" "You were told: No Camping" (Man, ya gotta love to hate'em). I said, "Look at me do I look well rested?" "Do I look like a guy who has been poaching camping spots and getting all sorts of beauty sleep?" "Was I supposed to power-walk all 24 miles in 6 hours with that load in these cycling shoes?" "I've been hiking all night you rat bastards" (OK, I didn't say the rat bastards part but I thought it) They let me off with a stern warning as I gimped around like a 90 year old man.
Soon I had the bike back together, pried my leg over the top tube and got on towards Utah.

But most days....

2010-05-29T12:37:00.000-07:00

Weave through trees, ford little streams, enjoy the beauty of Arizona and just ride down the trail

Ladies and Gentleman: The Gila and Um... The Gila?

2010-05-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

The Saguaros stood guard as a few scorpions and I shared a warm night under a sliver of moon and a staggering dome of stars.
I said good-bye to my friends and got rolling in the sunrise. I had crossed the Gila river the evening before on a small diversion dam. Ahead of me was a box canyon section, fairly famous to ATVs and Jeepers. As far as I knew (by my out dated guide book) was that I pass through the canyon and follow jeep roads north, 20 er so miles to highway 60.

A stream of water came trickling down as I made my way up through the narrow red rock walls. When the gorge opened back out, Jeep tracks went in all directions. All I could think was to follow the most well used looking route as northish as possible. One track led into another into another getting smaller and smaller until I was lost as a fart in the wind. I back tracked a few times trying to make corrections but every time ended up with the same result, scrammbling over sandy, super rocky double track wondering how jeeps even make it through here. By afternoon with the sun overhead I had no idea which way I was even supposed to go anymore.
At the top of one ridge I saw way off in the distance a valley with trees and what looked like a full dirt road paralleling the far side. The closer I got I could see water and grass? Water? a River? The only river out here has to be... THE GILA RIVER! I had just done a huge effin' loop.
As oddly disappointing as it felt, still it was a beautiful tour of the Sonora desert and at least I knew where I was now (sorta).
I picked my way down to the river where the track I was following just stops. Kaput, totally dead ended into some trees 20ft in front of the river. Dry grass spread out from me in either direction up and down stream. I could hear it but I couldn't even see the water through the trees and brush along the bank. I started walking up stream and ofcorse not more than a few feet into the grass the first rattle starts firing off. I jumped out of my skin and back to the open patch around my bike. Well, too sandy/rocky to ride and too snakey to walk. Hum... Taking a moment to pondering my situation and sip my last sip of warm water. A few moments later; Hip-Hop starts blasting from just a short ways down stream. (and just when I thought it was me and the rattlers)
Pushing through the brush and stepping out into the water I could see a couple SUVs on the far bank. The water was swift moving and brown but looked shallow enough to cross. Though I rather quickly found myself nipple deep and making much better sideways progress than I wanted. For a second I thought I was gonna be swimming for it and clawing at the brush on the far side. But luckly thats as deep as it got and I stumbbled through on my feet.
No sooner was I dripping on the beach mumbling that I'm mountain biking and lost than I was sitting in a lawn chair eating a BLT and sipping a cold drink.(I'll have to get lost more often)
Debbie, her teenage son and her son's two friends were out camping for the weekend. We chatted for a while but they were still in the midst of setting up camp and digging the amenities. So I sloshed back to get my bike.
Another bonus to a frame bag is a good spot to support your bike while you balance it on your head during deeper river crossings!
I got out my water filter and went to get water out of the river but Debbie wouldn't hear of it and gave me two small bottles of water. Soon after I thanked them all for the lunch and water and pushed on.
The two bottles of water went quick and the road I thought would just parallel the river turned away into the heat of the desert. I could ride some bits but mostly I had to push through soft sand in and out of dry arroyos.
At the remains of an old ranch I went to check the windmill. Thinking that by some chance there might be water in one of the tanks. It looked like I was about 20 years too late for that.
After sitting down in the shade to once again ponder my situation... thats when a truck drove up. The words from the woman driving were: "If your trying to get water from that old windmill you could probably use a ride"
She lived in Florence and had brought her dogs out to the river. I though it was odd and uncanny but she said she just put the two and two together when she saw me turn in there. Florence was in the wrong direction of the way I was actually trying to go but I saw a cup of coffee and a shaded park in my near future.

and clawing at faces

2010-05-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Ahh and then comes the beast. A mole hill if yer moles are effin enormous. Just a dizzy headed, gut wrenching, knee splattering climb up Mt. Lemmon is all. Known as the island in the sky. 25 miles from the bottom to the Summerhaven community at the top. I like climbing hills but the loaded single speed threw something of a new monkey in the bath.
At the bottom I swore not to walk, any of it! We went to dinner! Him and I. This was my Island! My mole beast to tame! My afghan to knit!

I took a few breaks to stretch and massage the legs but I mowed it. I had to dig deep I had to forget what I was doing. I though of riders back in the early 1900's in the tour de france doing 300+ Km stages on fixed gears over the Alps on dirt roads. I also thought of a few years back when I did the Everest challenge. We climbed 28,000 in a two day stage race and it took every thing I had just to keep the bike moving forward. I did that I can do this. Stay in the saddle and you'll get there. Mostly I thought of Kelly and her wonderful smile as if they were waiting for me at the top. It all worked. One of the harder bits of cycling I have done in a while. 25 miles and 4000ft of elevation. I pulled it without ever shifting into the walking gear! I kinda just wanna go do it again now.
Word mashers note: this seems a bit dramatic now that I read it. But to my defence I'd ridden 68 miles up to the base of the climb.

Chasing shadows

2010-05-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

Things have taken a turn for the more interesting. Not that they were all that dull before. But now I don't feel like I'm hunching in the wind just plowing from town to town.
That said, I pulled my first 100+ mile day of this trip. I felt commited and for some reason I just pushed hard to reach the border before dark. So in the dusk of that long day at a unglorious spot in the brabed wire fence. I dipped my back wheel into Mexico and started north. When complete darkness mugged me I slept in the brush amongst a maze of imagrant trails and wild turkeys calling to each other in the night.
The border patrol swarmed worse than the flys. Hauling ass on the narrow dirt roads and leaving me to choke on clouds of dust. Though after Parker canyon lake I turned onto my first taste of Arizona single track! This section over the Canelo Pass is not recomended in the guide book, saying its to rocky and technical for bikes. Yes the first and last bit of the 14 mile section require a fair amount of Hike-a-bike but the middle 10 or so miles were fantastic flowing good times.
From Patagonia to Sonoita I stayed with the guide book, bypassing the Mount Wrightson wilderness section that is off limits to bikes.
The end of that day I camped at Kentucky camp. (A historic ranch restoration project thingy) Lee the amazingly nice caretaker lady set me off in the morning with a bag of homemade cookies!
Coffee was had under the glare of John Wayne in Vail and we (John and I) mashed the outskirts of Tucson.

Crossing the gap

2010-05-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

A couple good days of heat, head wind and excellent cycling have gotten me to Bisbee, AZ. Bisbee is a pretty sweet old copper mining town all stacked up on top of itself. Lots of historic, patchy, oak tree lined Lombard streets. Kinda like if a crackhead made cammels hump of a wedding cake. Complete with daily red light district and haunted house tours.
Just around the corner now from the old mexico border and bottom of the AZT. I'm gonna stock up on supplies, go thrash about and see if I can't be the first single speeder to thru-bike it to Utah. (If anyone knows anyone else who has let me know)

Camp and plant duces where you like! No one is around to care!

2010-05-09T15:35:00.000-07:00

Thanx to Julian in Grants for hooking me up with a spare computer. It sure makes following a designated off-road route much easier!
I left Grants into a screaming head wind. It was funneling into the Zumi canyon and had me leaning over the bars,walking the flats. Though as the sun was setting it shut right off like a switch (yes, I almost fell off the front of the bike). So I rode on into the dark guessing the camber of the roller coastery chain of craters back country byway. To my surprise in the morning I'd shared a camp spot with a couple dead cows (well more coffee for me then!).
Pie town is truly a fantastic little place in the world. Divide bikers and hikers over lap here and brawl over the delicious pie. Then relax in the shade of the Pie-o-neer cafe with what crust or fruit bit they have been able to win.
I for-went a stay at the infamous toaster house and crept on my way down through the sacred Gila Wilderness. I'm now here in Silver city New Mexico. Its definitely a close runner up to some other really great places I cant think of right now. Its tucked away in the deep south west corner of New Mexico. It takes a bit but once you penetrate the franchise crap and get into old town, its a friendly and relaxed place. A Petaluma of the desert. Great folks at the Gila hike & bike shop and good coffee time action at the Java-lina.
P.s. thanx a bunch to William here in Silver City for providing me with a good and much needed rest in your guest villa! Truly a great spot you've got there!

Won't be gnawing that leg off till its thawed out.

2010-05-06T11:30:00.000-07:00

Access denied. Leave it to a California goon to underestimate a Rocky mountain winter. I was crossing my fingers and hoping but the high passes are still quite snowed in. It only took me 2 days of hard riding and a 10,000 pass to figure this out, yep. So from Chama I took a lower half paved half dirt route down to Cuba, NM. Part way along that route my cycle computer finally figured out what it was in for and jumped ship. Kaput. Even fresh batteries would not bring it back around. The lack of odometer has made things a bit more interesting. Well just in the sense that the Adventure Cycling Association warns that this route is "impossible with out one". Its possible, just a bit more of a route scavenger hunt is all.

After Cuba the divide route flattens out and runs a long barren stretch to Grants. Beautifully wide open land. Countless arroyos and crumbly old homesteads. It was nice to ride all day and pass only one truck.

Time to unleash the pant Ants and let them gallop free

2010-05-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

The rig is loaded. All the to-dos are done. Time now to just to climb aboard, footsie some pedals and see some sights.

P.S.

2010-04-21T19:44:00.000-07:00

T-minus 1 day and counting!!!

P.Ser. P.S. Hell yea!

Getting back to business and or taking the SouthWest to dinner

2010-04-14T21:34:00.000-07:00

The Snow has thawed! Spring is here! Time to get back in the saddle. Well, I never really got out of the saddle so its more like time to shuck that life sucking thing called a job and kick some rocks! Though there is one more Russian doll to pull the head off of. I've cooked up another side trip! Actually this bit can be considered something of a prologue. A mad dash before the long jaunt. One last kick in the shins before the ship sets sail! One of theses may also help for description: Choke down the appetizer before savoring the main course. Beat the shit out of the screen before knocking gently on the front door. Clapping and crying during the preview before the main feature. Running the bidet on full blast before actually doing the deed. Rowing like hell just before untying the boat.
Ok, So back to the happs. I'm thinkin' about ridin' from Durango back to Chama New Mexico (where I deviated the continental divide route last October) and ride south till Silver City. Then angle West toward the old Mexico and the trailhead of the Arizona Trail. The AZT is 750 miles long and stretches from Mexico to Utah.
I figured I go and ride that and get back here to Durango for the Ironhorse bicycle festival on May 28th. Then a swap of bikes back to the big ol' beast and pedal to meet Kelly back over in Arizona. Where together we'll resume this around the planet business.
Oh, yea speaking of switching bikes. While in Durango for the winter I built up a single speed 29er mtn. bike. I also took up sewing as a side hobby and made some bags for it. Its what I'm gonna hammer out this next side trip with. A nice little break from the norm to run fast and light.

For those of you tooth counting, gain ratio gear geeks. (If I didn't say it I know one of you would ask) I'll be running a double double set up: 34/31 and 20/17

While some hid their colored breakfast, talked of invisble bunnys and doned their resurection sunday bests...

2010-04-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

We found some dirt in Fruita Colorado to play in!

Kinda like Russian Matryoshka dolls: Trips inside of Trips

2010-03-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

A few images of a fantastic little side trip out to California. Kelly and I rode a couple hundred miles from the Bay Area down to Pinnacles national park and back. Thanx goes out to Timm for the bike loan.

Sitting still and I have never sat well together. The urge to visit and get out of the snow was just to massive to resist. It was really such a great time but now I'm back in Durango. I've now got less than 2 months left of this Colorado layover. Don't get me wrong I'm certainly not complaining about Colorado. Its just over the years of migrational roaming and or living in the California Bay Area. I've morphed into fair weather coot and can't help but feel claustrophobic amongst this conglomeration of snow. Though the days are getting nicer and nicer as spring lollygags back in. Making it all the more harder and harder to focus on work (something I'm sure every one can relate too).

Fuzzy and cuddly things lurking in the forest waiting to gnaw on your neck bone A.K.A. a story about breakfast

2010-02-06T14:51:00.000-08:00

When I get asked about times I've had traveling on a bicycle. I give a quick run down and the bit that people most wanna know about is when I mention being chased by a Grizzly bear. So while times are slow here in Durango and I stew in my skin and pull my hair out waiting for spring. I though I would share this story with those of you who have not heard it:

Falon Stoval and I were pedaling North from California on "The Mad Dash to Alaska" (The name of the trip and the tag we left on many road signs and dumpsters)
The small city of Whitehorse in the Yukon has sunlight for about 20 hours a day in the summer. So when we pedaled out of town it was a bright sunny night. We rode for hours and took down the better part of 80ish miles. We often rode at night for the lack of traffic on the roads and abundance of wildlife making roadway cameos. Usually we were pretty good about scanning the road and being fairly alert. Since we were after all in the "Grizzly Alley" that many locals had warned us about. We'd listened to a barrage of horror stories about cyclist getting eaten and them only finding pieces of their bikes. Constantly these tales were heaped on us but we shrugged it off and kept riding.
So in the darkest time of the day when deep shadows are popular and the sun is just taking a little power nap in the twilight before morning. Falon and I were riding side by side, tired and mumbling about needing to find a place to camp. We were a long ways out from anything but dense forest and mountains. In many other circumstances we would have just crashed in the woods but considering our position in the food chain we kept going.
I remember staring at my handlebars and then looking up to see what it was across the road that caught my eye. Of course it was an Um...big.... big Grizzly. He was just down off the other side of the road eating something in the grass. Falon was a little behind and to my right. I slowed a bit and when he came up along side me I said "look over there". At that second the bear either heard or finally smelled us. He stood up on his hind legs and started roaring. Holy shit my pants was that a big damn bear. I would have felt like a dwarf hugging him. I went into a weird trance, coasting and just staring at this massive beast. Falon on the other hand took off like his saddle had just caught fire. Thats when the bear started to charge. I was pondering the idea that in modern society its odd to think that something furry can walk out of the woods and eat you, but also in that same milla-second I realized I better get the fuck out of there! In a flash I was pedaling like never before. The Grizzly was now on the pavement, so close I could see the muscle straining in his shoulders and hear his long claws scrape on the tarmac as they searched for traction on the hard surface. We made eye contact, I could clearly make out individual teeth and he was closing in fast! I turned back to the bike and gave it everything. I was a panicking blur of movement, hammering through my gears and saying "shit shit shit". There was a second when he was so close on my back wheel that I seriously had the though: "Oh great, Here it is; I'm getting mauled"
But then he stopped running and I rode away. Looking over my shoulder I saw him standing in the middle of the road sniffing the air. I didn't look back again till he was a little speck against the trees.
I'd like to think that I out ran him but other knowledgeable types have said that it was a false charge and if he wanted to, he would have had me for breakfast. I wonder what I would taste like? I don't know but I doubt it beats coffee and pancakes.

Selling yellow snow cones on the Slick Rock Trail

2010-01-07T11:33:00.000-08:00

This was a side trip over to Moab from Durango during a little X-mas(sacre) vacation

The Holy Land...A place of exaltation, adrenaline and lactic acid

2009-11-24T14:43:00.000-08:00

These pictures do it no justice. There will be more to come!

A Colorado mooring

2009-11-18T14:13:00.000-08:00

A nice thing about not having any specific plans or time frames is the easy transition to good opportunities when they arise.
Well...To tell you the truth I have stammered in posting this post because its really an admittance to myself as well as ya'll that; I'm gonna be staying put for a bit. (Man, that hurts to see in print)
Mainly for these two reasons: 1)I want to add some more travel cabbage to my savings before plunging into Latin America. 2)I'm waiting for The Kelly Donlan to finish the contract on her job so we can pedal together.
So I knew this pause was coming but I didn't know where. Until... The fantastic, world class mountain biking town of Durango lassoed me in.
When I pulled into town I immediately found my favorite coffee shop and then went exploring. Ending up later at a little bike shop called Papa Wheelies. I met Jeff the owner and he offered me a couch to crash on at his house. By morning it was agreed that I would hang out and help at the shop for a few days. As those few days passed I really fell in love with Durango and it's surrounding hills. When the day came that I said I was gonna leave Jeff and I instead shook on a deal that I would become his full time manager until May. He also gave me the garage at his house to live in for free! Its even closer to a bedroom than any of the other garages I've lived in.
Samu the savage mule is now patiently sitting in a corner waiting for spring. I've got my full suspension mountain bike out here now and have been laparoscoping the nervous system of trails and back roads. The trails here are so well developed, technical and addicting. The scenery is also just stupid. I finish off a ride and realize the thing that is most sore is my face from smiling.
So this Blog of mine is gonna be a bit slow for a while. Though I will be posting some of the happs around Durnago and pics of my favorite trails.
Every day as the unscratchable itch to get back on the road has me butt scooting, I remind myself that this stop off will keep me in coffee and tacos for the next bunch of years.

When the world is your Oyster, Why not make a smoothie?

2009-10-08T14:56:00.000-07:00

Just across the border into New Mexico some big changes have happened. I've decided not to slog pancreas deep in mud for the rest of the Great Divide route. Instead opting to ride North West through Durango, Telluride and back to Moab.
Monsoon season has got me in a headlock, So I'm bound to see about spinning some wrenches and assaulting some trails back in the Mecca.

For a brutal aerobic work out; Eat an apple while pedaling a 100 lb bike up hill at 10,000 ft.

2009-10-07T11:16:00.000-07:00

In Salida there is the most Fantastic bike shop called Absolute Bikes. A small museum of bikes and parts hang around on the walls. I could not get myself to leave and just kept wandering around and jabbering on to no one in particular (not even myself). Once again Samu's beastly uniqueness upstaged me and got us invited to stay with Anton and Amber. Anton, Wes and Brenan are mechanics from the shop and all live together out at La Raunch. (Thanx guys for all yer kindness and help. And thank you Amber for the good dinner)
I had lost Matty and Jermey in town somewhere the day before. I think like me they were feeling the winter conditions breathing down their necks and moved on. Man, Salida is such a great town, I really could have stayed a lot longer. But five too many people told me about the storm that was on its way, so begrudgingly I also got pedaling on.
I camped in the grasslands just south from the house/town of Doyleville. I had just gotten on the road that morning when unexpectedly two other Great Divide cyclist rode up. Jake and Duncan were giving themselves 28ish days to ride the GDMBR. (Check out there web action at: bikingforabetterworld.org) With their influence I churned out my biggest off pavement day of 90 miles with two 10,000 ft passes.
In the dark that night with the lights of Del Norte twinkling in the distance, We shook hands and said good-bye. I set up camp and they mashed on.
What a night it turned out to be. I cooked dinner and put my tired self to bed. I had just gotten in a long blink when I was a waked by an angry wind and the tent wall trying to cuddle with me. I jumped up and chased down things that were blowing away and staked down everything I could.
The wind screamed and howled and tried to rip my little tent to shreds. Inside it's relative comfort of machine gun flapping fabric, I though of mountaineers on Everest and tried to sleep knowing how much better off I was. That didn't really work. Even as tired as I was there was no sleep happening. When the first bits of sunlight came over the windy peaks I broke down my camp. I could have para-glided to new mexico with my rain fly but instead I wrestled it into its bag and rode into Del Norte.
Jake and Duncan were in front of the small post office. They had stayed in the town park and hadn't got much sleep either. While we were there David drove up to us and asked us about our trip and then mentioned his "Hippy Cousin had an Um...Cabin". "It is on your way and you could stay in it if you like". We thanked him and though none of us had gotten any sleep to speak of, collectively we still wanted to make some miles that day.
I said good-bye to Jake and Duncan again and went in search of coffee. I sat for a long time sipping coffee and charging batteries. It was later afternoon when I finally got to pedaling out of Del Norte.
I was moving slow and had the thought of Dave's cousin's cabin on my brain but had spaced the directions. Up the road ahead of me was the highest pass on the whole divide route and I was thinking sleep would be better before tackling it. While spying some abandon accommodations a red truck drives up with the last two dudes I expected to be driving it: Jake and Duncan. They had found the cabin and borrowed the truck to go to town for supplies. They gave me directions, insisted there was plenty of room and that they will back in a while.
When I got there I understood Dave's smirk when he originally told us about it. It was odd but odd in the best way. It was excitingly rustic, handbuilt, rigged, improvised and D.I.Yed. The structural log walls had been another cabin somewhere else before but were relocated to this spot. Kevin (the Cousin) had scavenged, found and fabricated all the decks, railings, furniture and art work. If ever I had a dream cabin it would be something sorta like this one.
It was used by Kevin only as a retreat, hobbie and guest house. So, we had this castle to ourselves. I got a fire going and they came back with food and beer!
It snowed on the peaks above us that night but we sat warm in front of the fireplace, talking and sipping cold beer. Ahh man, I slept so good.
When I awoke the storm had passed and the sun was shining. We got an early start and destroyed the 11,910 ft. Indiana pass. It had snowed only a few inches and was easy to plow through.
On the lower slopes of the other side we got a nice mud shellacking but still made 65 miles to Horca.
In the last of the days light we shook hands good-bye again. They had 8 days to catch a plane in El Paso. I watched there lights slowly climb up the next pass, good luck guys.
I

Chased by the onset of Winter

2009-10-05T13:40:00.000-07:00

A couple of Swagmen and a Bogen

2009-10-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

I met Matt and Jermey in Steamboat Springs. They had also made some side trips since starting the Great divide route in Canada. So we're all running a bit late in the year for cycling in the high Rockies but whatever.
We rode together up steep passes and through yellow Aspen forests. Matty is from Australia and Jermey is from New Zealand. We talked and joked a lot about the differences between our countries and our shared language slang.
Our pace is petty sporadic. Some days we have done 50-60 miles while other days we did like 10ish. We got a tortoise and the hair type thing going on with this really funny Dutch couple. Karen and Martin have just ridden down from Alaska and are doing a pretty steady 30 miles a day. We keep bumping into them at random places. Karen is the most spastic and lively 50 year old I've ever met while Martin is carrying an unusual amount of gear including dear antlers and a license plate collection. I hope we bump into them again.
We've been doing a lot of cycling up around 9000 ft.(The highest pass being 11,482) The air is thin enough to feel like half my lung capacity is on strike or like trying to snorkel through a coffee stirrer straw. Regardless the scenery makes you want eat your eyeballs. Man, The Colorado high country is one beautiful chunk of the world.
Yesterday though was the day that tested our stamina and sanity. Its a long stretch of high mountain plateau from Hartsel to Salida. The wind howled and screamed in our faces. Scouring our cheeks and filling our mouths with cold sand. (Course I would have closed my mouth if the elevation and effort would have let me). We battled the wind all day, mostly straight on but some times it bowled us from the side. Once knocking me, monster heavy bike and all into a ditch.
By late in the day we had ground it across the Plateau and back into some trees. Thinking the forest would shelter us from the wind, but Nope! It roared on. We just then had to contend with branches hitting us and trees snapping. It really was awesome and a spectacular disaster to ride in. Adrenalin fueled my tired legs the rest of the way to Salida, where a hot cup of coffee tasted worth its weight in titanium.

Playing with matches

2009-09-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

So I had this interaction with a woman who worked at the Conoco station in Walden, WY. It went something like this:

Me: Is this the road over Rabbit Ear pass?
Her: Yes, but you know its snowing right?
Me: Yea I figured but its Ok, I got lots of gear.
Her: Can I ask you something?
Me: Sure
Her: Don't go. Its snowing and nasty up there.
Me: I'll be OK
Her: No Its really far! 60 miles from here to Steamboat and seriously snowy and cold with no Hotels
Me: Thats fine. I plan on camping along the way and getting there tomorrow.
Her: There is no place to camp anywhere up there.
ME: Are you telling me in that whole mountain range there is no place to camp?
Her: Yes, you would be stupid to go now. Wait for the storm to blow over in a few days.
ME: Thanx for the concern but "This ain't my first Rodeo" (Borrowed from Ben)
Her: Maybe you don't understand! Its SNOWING
Me: (thinking: What am I a 4 year old playing with matches. Man,I havent even told her that I'm going over the higher unpaved buffalo pass)
Me: I'v been over more mountain passes than I can count. I think I'll be Ok.
Her: If you wind up dead, It wont be my fault!
Me: Thanx Lady, have a good day.

Then I walk outside, look down and realize that I'm wearing shorts and sandals. Ok, She had some ground to stand on.

Needless to say I rode over the pass and found many beautiful National Forest camp spots along the way. I could count the snow flakes as thay fell, slept cozy and warm and woke to blue skys. Its always funny to me how little some people know of the places they live in or how afraid they are of them.

Col-o-effin-rado

2009-09-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

Things allways seem to work out

2009-09-23T15:20:00.000-07:00

I didn't get out of Oakland till my second night. Many trains rolled by but nothing had my name on it. I was hoping for a long haul hotshot but after waiting 24 hours, impatience got the best of me and I dove into a boxcar.
I got off in Roseville with hopes of a faster higher priority train. Man, it was still hot for September. I hid in what shade I could find and watched them work trains in the yard. Not a single train I wanted to ride came or went that whole day and night. I shuffled into downtown for coffee and refill my water jug, Then back out to wait and stew some more. By that evening I was really wondering what the fuck was going on with the freight traffic in Roseville these days? It was once the hub yard for all the freight in far west.
My answer arrived in living form, carrying a backpack and also prowling the mainline. I didn't catch his name but he was much more up to date with the happs then me. He was calling in unit numbers on his cell phone to find out their destination. Then he told me that they have down scaled this yard. Most traffic from down south and the Bay Area are taking the by pass in Sacramento. That put an end to the mystery.
As we're still talking a train pulled in. He called in the numbers and said "that one is heading for Seattle", "I think I'll take it". It was all empty 48 trailers but he went and got on it anyways. I went back to lounging in my hidden spot and not but a few minutes later I hear the rail cops pulling him off.
Again nothing that seemed like a good east bound ride came through that night. I shuffled back to town once again that morning for coffee and some internet at the library. It was Saturday already. 4 days and I had made it a hours drive from Oakland.
I talked to Kelly at the library, It was her weekend. She came to resuce me from shuffling back and forth through Roseville pulling my hair out.
We drove up to Quincy to visit Chris, Lily and Ciano. We got in some good hanging out and a little high sierra hiking and BBQing.
Kelly drove me out to Portola. The same little mountain town I got off at one my way out. We raced a double stack train on the way and got there in enough time for a quick good-bye and for me to dash off to catch it.
There was not a single bucket on the whole thing. I was sick of trains passing while I sat and watched so I rode suicide (up in the wind on the deck) through the night into Nevada. At the next yard, Wherever it was, I switched trains and got into a boxcar. That night I got off in Salt Lake City.
I had met Dallin randomly a few months earlier in Wyoming. He gave me his phone number and said If I was ever in SLC to give him a call. So I called. He gave me directions to the "Boing" anarchist collective and met me there. I stayed the night there cuz on his recomendation it is better to take the city bus in the morning for 2 bucks to Ogden and catch East from there.
In Ogden it took a while for the right combination. You have to catch south out of the yard. I was worried I would just get taken right back down to SLC.
Finally a junker came in off the west side of the y at the north end and was switching to the east side of the yard heading south. (say that 10 times fast)It was just what I was waiting for, I ran down the strand and found a shotgun grainer.(a.k.a. Double hole canadian grainer) ( my favorite junk train rideable cuz it has a nice big hidden compartment to ride in)I climbed in and went to sleep and woke up in Green river, Wy.
I was broken up and humped all over that yard but eventually dragged on to the east. Next stop I recognized the yard of Rawlins and knew the next one was Laramie.
This is where I started talking to the train in a nice voice asking it; "Please slow down enough for me to only do a couple somersaults" or "I promise to brush my teeth more and learn to like grapefruit if you'll just slow for me to bail off without turning completly to dog meat. But really I was preparing myself for having to make my way back from Cheyenne the next day.
Just after dark, on the out skirts of Laramie the train started to slow and by the time I was just where I had gotten on a month and a half ago it stopped. I stepped off in the warm night air, filthy, hungry and happy as can be. Man, I love those trains.

A tourist in a place I just finnished calling Home

2009-09-23T15:04:00.000-07:00

It seemed strange to be in Oakland. Seeing friends that I had just said good-bye to with the vigor of leaving for half a decade. Hi! Oh, all that? I was just kidding....Like I said; It felt strange but really I was only “visiting on business”. The business of visiting a very special neighbor and helping her build a touring bicycle.

I was back in the East Bay for nearly a month. It kinda flew by. I had not planned on being there that long but who plans anything anyways?

It was great to see all ya'll if only for a second or two. And If I didn't happen to see you, Please erase from your mind what you just read and I never left Wyoming.

Thanx so much to Ty and The Bent Spoke crew for all you help and letting me get in the way.

Thanx also to Elizabeth at the Wheelgirl.com for you help in aquiring parts.

What time is it?

2009-09-20T15:29:00.000-07:00

The Hiatus is over!

Back to the saddle and down to business. Man, I'm chomping at the bit to get pedaling again.

A junk train from Ogden, unbelievably obediant to my instructive cooing stopped to let me off right in Ol' Downtown Laramie.
I made a hasty dash to the home of Adam and Danielle (Sorry again guys for barging) to see the sight I'v been dreaming of: Mybike. The sight of Samu the savage mule slightly dusty and tucked away patiently waiting for me was an emotional expierience that left me a bit teary and choked up.... Ok I'm over it. But man, is it good to be back.
The trip out West was good though. Alot of things got accomplished and some damn good times were had.

So the Hiatus and the train trip back out? I'll elaborate later. I got some riding to do!

Thanx to Lily for the new tattoo! Check out Lily's art work at: www.lilymosaics.com

A Detour called Hiatus

2009-08-20T20:54:00.000-07:00

Hello from California! No, I didn't give up and go home. I find myself more and more in love with life on a bicycle every day. Speaking of which, My bike is out in Laramie Wyoming, stored safely in a garage, thanks to the Henne Family. I took this side trip back here to see and help my ever fantastic neighbor Kelly Marie get a bicycle together, so as to ride with me later on. There are also some other random bits I need to hammer out but I won't bore us with the details.

It had been a few years since I had ridden any considerable distance by train. But when I walked down to the small train yard I was instantly enveloped in that old familiar microcosm. The smell of the creosote and the squealing of wheel flanges hooked up with my brain like old pals. New and old excitement galloped around with my eagerness to ride as I searched out a place to hide and wait. I built a little pallace of pallets behind some wearhouse by the mainline and

settled in. More sentiment than expected came to visit me there. I perused back over the years, of lazily lounging track side waiting for fleeting opportunities to swipe rides on these iron monsters. My thoughts were of old friends, the cities, train trips and good times had. Landscape hurled in front of my eyes while miles of singing rails poured out the back of my head and coiled on the ground like invisible rope.

Lost in time and trains I sat in those pallets partially debilitated and stewing in my mulligan of memories. This ride was dedicated to The C.C.R, The N.P.A , N.C. Crew and the shittastic bunch of humans I'v traveled with and come to know as friends and family.

Laramie sits between two busier yards in Cheyenne and Rawlins, so I sat for about 40 hours watching trains rocket past me. Finally just before dawn on my second night in the pallets a Junker stopped and I climbed into a boxcar.

In Green River, WY I made a dash across the yard and dove into a hotshot. It had just pulled in and was stacked up nice with a lot of power at the front. After the right amount of time for a routine crew change that beast pulled through the yard and plowed out over the dry, sage brush hills.

I peeped out some time later and caught sight of a sign that said "Utah's finest cheese". Well, this ment I could rule out Idaho and Oregon and was bound for Ogden and probably Salt Lake City.

In Ogden we got a new crew and banged out across the Great Salt Lake, bypassing Salt lake city. A huge smile spread across my face when I realized this one train was gonna get me all the way to California. As much as I love the cat and mouse games of negotiating large yards, its sure nice when you get dragged half way across the country on one gamble.

I hopped off in Portola, CA and went searching for the cup of coffee with my name on it. I hadn't slept or moved very much in the few day on the train, so it felt exceptionally nice to walk in the Sierra Nevada sunshine. Along with that was the whimsical slaphappy feeling of walking away, red handed after stealing a little adventure- one of the things that makes train riding so good and so addicting.

The Nomadic Equestrians

2009-08-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

It was dark when I pedaled into Medicine Bow. When I was passing the Virginian hotel/ bar when this woman yells out "wow, you gotta let me ride that thing". I said "OK" So this really drunk, short woman rode off on my bike. When she came weaving back, Blake was walking up and she asked him if he wanted to ride it but he said "No, I stick to ridin horses".
We started talking and sure enough Him and his partner Adam were riding horses cross country. They shared there hotel room with me and in the morning over coffee we talked about car free societies, just horses and bikes, it could work? They have 7 horses, 3 for packing gear and the other 4 they rotate riding. They started out in Colorado and are heading now for Montana. These were, hands down, the nicest Cowboys I'v ever met! The best of green pastures to you guys.

A.K.A: An Agoraphobic's Nightmare

2009-08-02T23:16:00.000-07:00

I was miles out from anything, following a double track that twist and wound through sage brush to the horizon. I'd been able to filter water from cattle ponds so I just pressed on and on into the beautiful nothingness of Wyoming's Great Basin. The storms swirled around me and I knew if one of them hit me I could be in for a long slogging, mud fest.
My luck with the weather held. The track stayed solid and I had the breeze at my back.
Out there to be found is a sweet, soft spoken solitude that is a bit hard to find in the world these days. The territorial immencity was incredible and a feeling of settling traquility seemed to blow in the wind.

Cold beer and a random meeting can change everything.

2009-08-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

It was a rough afternoon and I was dragging. I just kept thinking of setting up my hammock for a nap. It was hot and the miles of washboarded dirt road were grinding on my nerves.
I rolled into Atlantic city WY (population 57) The market/cafe had picnic tables out front and seated at one of them was Greg Hansen. Greg had hiked the Appalachian trail in 1978 but not hiked much since. This summer he decided to hike across Wyoming along the continental divide.
He was drinking cold Coors and still rocking his original gear from the 70's when I walked up. We ended up sipping beer, having some great conversations and hanging out for hours. He was funny as hell and made me wish that I could even come close to being such a charater at 53.
When I rode on I was half drunk, chatting up the passing cows and smiling at my desolate surroundings. (Dont worry Greg I still have the oatmeal packet with your adress on it and will stop by if I'm ever in Nebraska)

Aspen meadows

2009-08-02T22:19:00.000-07:00

The hail came down the size of marbles as I rode through the Tetons national park. The 3 teets were covered over with clowds making me even happier that I had infiltrated yet another National park with out paying the fee. (that makes 5 so far)
On the other side of the Togwotee pass Dave and Jo-An have a great "cyclist only" hostel called: The Aspen meadow bike hostel. These two are such nice people and for the small amount that they ask you really do get the whole 9 1/2 yards. (dinner, breakfast, excellent thick, strong coffee and a cot in a warm, dry lodge) I broke my own rule of not paying for lodging and really enjoyed my stay. Its super great a place like theirs exists for the long distance cycling comunity!

Mosy squadrons, RVs and big trucks

2009-08-02T21:23:00.000-07:00

Richard rode up while I was having tea in lakeview. He had the new Salsa Fargo (a bike designed for racing this route) He was running super light a laying down 100 miles on a bad day. We chatted for the afternoon, crossed into Idaho in a rain storm and then he rode on at his pace. safe travels man.

I set up camp on the edge of Yellowstone at a beautiful spot on Grassy lake. The swarms of mosqitos had chased me into my tent. I was lying back watching Loons divebomb after fish and chipmunks scurry around, When suddenly this big ass truck comes roaring down into my campspot. The dude drives up practically on top of me and yells "You seen any wildlife?" "Were looking for Wildlife" I look up at him and irritatedly just say "No"; too stunned by his retardedness to say anything more. Then he backs up and drivews away. Yep, unfortunatly these kind of people are alive, well and flock to Yellowstone.

The real shit show

2009-08-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

I rode down into Butte with a broken front rack bracket. After some brutally rugged, back country hammering I was quite happy that thats all that broke.
Rob Leipheimer (levi the pro cyclist's brother) owns a bike shop in Butte and is seriously a very nice guy. He opened up his shop to me to do any repairs and cleaning I needed to do. But best yet I was able to catch up on The Tour de France in grand big screen style. I stayed in Butte a few days running errands but mostly hanging around watching Tour highlites.

About 10 miles south of Butte I met Tyler. He was also heading south on the Divide Route. He is from Canada and also heading into Latin America. We pedaled over the Fleecer pass together. A part of the route that is notoriously steep and rough. At one point on the decent it was such a steep rock garden that I had to run along side my bike through the brush, skidding and sliding trying to stay upright. Tyler comes down after me winded and says "Well, that was a real shit show". Indeed it was and I'd gladly do it again. We rode together for another bit through Montana's back country. Late one afternoon, He peeled off to take a nap, Said he'd catch up to me later. I havn't him since, I hope he didn't get eatin.

Cackling and smacking myself from the beauty of it all

2009-07-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

Along The Great Divide

2009-07-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

2 pedals are better than 1

2009-07-16T07:41:00.000-07:00

I stood there looking down at my pedal lying on the gravel and seriously asked out loud "Hey, What are you doing down there?" I got no answer, So I walked up the hills and pedaled down them one footed for most the afternoon. Eventually I got back on a slightly more trafficed dirt road and hitched myself a ride back up to Eureka. At the V.F.W. over 25 cent coffee I borrowed the bar tenders cell phone and called Crank Bros. (the pedal company) and told them my predicament. Without hesitation they had new spindles and bearings in the mail that day. They were excellent and super quick to mail them but it was the mail that was in not so quick. I spent the next four chill days shuffling around Eureka with my coffee cup and book. After two days I was giving directions to tourist and feeling like Norm from Cheers at the V.F.W. for 25 cent coffee. There are worse places to be ship wrecked than Eureka. Its a nice little town with free camping in the town park, (as long as you dont tell them you are there) abandon rail road trax for walk along and a river for swimming. I met quite a few cycle tourist since Eureka is both on the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier Route and The Great Divide Route.
Monday rolled around and the Post Office reopened and my spindles were there! I got my bike back in one piece and was just about to leave town, again when I met Mat and Gracie. They are unicycling south on the Continental Divide Route. I finnished my book and sold it back to the ever so nice book shop lady Teresa and caught up to Gracie and Mat.
It rained on us all day and by evening were soaked and cold. I threw down the idea of a little 4 mile detour to my favorite cabin. (I felt I knew the area pretty good by this point) . I rode ahead and got a fire going in the wood stove and hot water for cocos all around.
Gear hung drying all over the little cabin, we cooked up a mulligan and slept listening to rain drumming on the roof.The sun was out the next day as we rode through eye clawing, turtle heading scenery. Of all things a Prius drove up on us and the driver gets out and says "Hello Gracie" its seemed pretty wierd. But turns out his name was Alan and he had been tracking them through their web site and had arranged to ride with them previously. Alan went and dropped off his car and came and rode with us for the afternoon. At the junction for Polebridge I said good-by every one as they were heading off route get supplies and I still had plenty of food from the Eureka food bank. I hope I meet up the the uni-crew again they were really great fun to roll with. check out there website at: divideby1.com

I pat myself down in the morning and think; " I didn't get mauled by a grizzly in my sleep, thats good"

2009-07-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

I skirted the Flathead lake to the east and pedaled north through Kalispel and Eureka and sure enough ran into the Canadian Border.
The ever Amazing Kelly Marie had sent sent me a package General Delivery with some snacks (which I devoured quickly) and knobby tires for the off road Divide Route (I licked them but decided against eating and just ended up puting them on my bike). I put the tires on 10 ft south of Canada. The Border patrol eyed me suspiciously but I didn't care. I was not going into their stupid country this time.
So in all reality my trip has started! Everything I'v ridden so far, the 3200 some miles was just to get to this trail head and the beginin' of my south bound ride. I'll be heading south for a few yearsish now.
I rode back down to Eureka got some supplies and continued south. I was well into the back country and it was raining pretty hard. I had my hood up and went right past a very important turn off. I went the wrong way for hours and then the dirt road I was on ended, yep just ended. I turned around and after a while I ran into a hunter who gave me the wrong directions. I went the way he said untill I knew I was lost again. It was evening, it had been raining all day and dispite it being incredibly beautiful I just ended up feeling like frustrated grizzly bait. Just before dark I spied a sign that said Weasel Cabin 1 mi... Oh shit dudes, I can not believe my luck. It is a forest service cabin open to the public and free as a man who don't do undies. I got a fire going in the little wood stove, feasted on the food left on the shelves by previous campers and felt like a toasty 10 bucks.
The next sunny morning I got directions from a Ranger and happily headed down the right path until my left pedal snapped off.

Near the begining

2009-07-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

The old Hoback canyon got me into Jackson, WY. Its a great town if you like: skiing, sledding,hiking, rock climbing, hang-gliding, base jumping, rollerblading, wake boarding, wrestling, skydiving and bowling..... or biking, if you like that sort of thing. The guys at the bike shop Fitzgerald's are top notch. I'm not just saying that cuz they let me hang around, drink their coffee and read the bike mags. Anyways Its a great shop, good bikegeekyness with out the snobbery.
My first night in Jackson I slept in a down pour along the Snake river. The first real rain I'd had, came down like effin' dogs and hogs. Thanks to D5000 and The Mountain Hardwear there really is "No bad weather, just bad gear". Truly the best gear set up I'v ever had, I stayed warm and cozy, thanx, man.
The next day in front of the library I met Brian and Hana and they awesomly hooked me up with a couch and dinner. And thanx to Traci for the coffee and delicous green chili soup!
I climbed out of Jackson's hole on the old carless route over the Teton pass and dropped in to Idaho. I side swiped Idaho on its east side, plodding along the hot flat hwy 33, sandwiched between the lemhi range and the Beaver mountains. Cheers to the bunch in the Hunters tavern in Mud Lake who's collective goal was to "keep from sobering"
I ground it out over the Lost Trail pass and into Montana.
Missoula should be a milestone on anyones route cycling though this part of the world. Its a bike friendly, people friendly mini city and also home to the Adventure cycling association. Greg siple gave me the grand tour as i snuck in more than one complimentary ice cream.
Downtown Missoula I met James, mallory, livey and Alina. James, mallory and Livey had just rode in from Oregon on their way to scattered points further east. They had gotten set up to stay at Free Cycles the local bicycle collective. I tagged along with them and stayed there as well. Free Cycles is an open community space where bikes trickle in on random donation and its all volunteer run. The place was a mad house in its opening hours with all sorts of people and kids coming and going. But at night it was all ours, I felt at home there sleeping under the tool boards and watching the morning light filter in through the hanging frames and wheels. A big thanx to Jeff for all his kindness and above and beyond killer food hook-ups. (Good luck in your endeavors, man). It was really hard to Missoula