Punching Through the Midwest – Bike Touring Video (Part 2)

This is Part 2 of 4 of the video series documenting our 101 day trip cycling across the the U.S. in the summer of 2014. If you missed Part 1, click here to check it out. This section covers from Spearfish, South Dakota all the way to the Indiana border. Straight through the heart of the Midwest in summer like true masochists. 

Corn crop

We didn’t plan to bike through the Midwest in August. It just worked out that way. Our timing, framed around hitting New England during peak fall colors, meant we had to spend some time in the sweltering summer. To echo Vonnegut, so it goes… Trade-offs are part of living.

After clearing Montana, we headed south through the Black Hills of South Dakota. Instead of highways, we spent a few days on the Mickelson Trail, which is a 110-mile gravel trail that cuts right through the heart of the area near Mt. Rushmore. Timing it perfectly (not), we managed to hit the area just as 500,000 motorcycles descended like loud, buzzing bees for the Sturgis Rally. I think I heard, “Put an engine on that thing!” almost as much as “I could never do what you’re doing.”

Foggy morning in Nebraska in the corn fields.

Foggy morning in Nebraska in the corn fields.

I asked a bartender in Cody, NE (pop 154) if they knew anyone who might take us in for the night since a big storm was rolling in. Isla helped us out and her cheery granddaughter made us laugh and laugh.

I asked a bartender in Cody, NE (pop 154) if they knew anyone who might take us in for the night since a big storm was rolling in. Isla helped us out and her cheery granddaughter made us laugh and laugh.

The Midwest gets a bad rap sometimes, and part of it is a bit undeserved. Take Nebraska, for instance. I think most people picture horribly flat, ugly terrain stretching for miles. Flat? On the highways, yes. Country roads were rolling and nice. Ugly? Not in the NW part of the state in the pretty, rolling Sand Hills region. We lucked out and fog was more prevalent than crushing sun for the first half of Nebraska. Clear, hot skies came as we neared Omaha, as did gnarly traffic. My advice is to avoid big cities whenever possible if you go touring because navigating them on bicycle is often difficult or just plain nerve-wracking.

Iowa’s surprise was constant rolling steep hills, not flat corn country. We toiled up them through temperatures soaring into the high 90’s in humidity so thick we could have backstroked in it. Locals were kind, generous and excited to talk to us. A new idea (to us) was Casey’s, a gas station chain also featuring pizza ovens. We ate no-cheese, veggie pizza ($12.74 with tax) and scored ice cubes for our water bottles frequently to survive. That convenience was unfortunately offset by the stink of factory farms and the doomed animals inside them that permeated the air in many stretches of the state. An up-close, visceral look at the underbelly of our food system.

Up close and personal with a soy bean field.

Up close and personal with a soy bean field.

In eastern Iowa, road shoulders were 10 feet wide to accommodate the large Amish population and their buggies, which whisk along behind quickly trotting horses. We stopped at Stringtown Grocery, an Amish establishment featuring re-bagged bulk goods branded under the store’s name. And then we hit a big milestone – The Mississippi River! I stared at the flat brown flowing waters and thought of the Louisiana Purchase. To think that a huge chunk of land west of this grand body of water at one point wasn’t even part of the United States before France sold it to us. 2,300 miles on our bikes to get here and we were barely half way to Maine.

Scenery past the Mississippi was the cliche Midwest fare. Rather non-descript days pedaling through the corn and soy fields of Illinois blend together into podcasts and audiobooks that curbed the monotony a bit. Long days in the sun melded into one big mass of states starting with I as we left Iowa for Illinois and Indiana.

Corn fields and a rusty silo to hold the bounty.

Corn fields and a rusty silo to hold the bounty.

Our ability to forget difficult trials is powerful. This portion of our tour is scarcely three months ago and yet feels so long ago. The events of August in the Midwest are already softer in my mind. Memories of days where we had to linger in a gas station to let our internal temperatures cool down are slipping away. The sun’s fangs are blunted and the sauna of the humidity diminishes. Even the sameness of the landscape – corn, soy, repeat – looks better in the pictures.

What remains etched in stone is a mental confidence that we persevered as a team, pushing through conditions we normally would choose to avoid at all costs. The crucible of the Midwest forged our relationship into a stronger bond. For that reason alone, this tough section of the tour was worth it.

Enough chit chat. How about that video?! Email subscribers: click here for Part 2 of 4. Visitors to the website, just click play below in the embedded video. Enjoy…and see you shortly in Part 3!

Cheers,

Dakota

 

Gearing Down on the Maine Hut Trails

Flagstaff Lake backpacking

Two weeks, no touring bikes. My metabolism, inspired by three months of biking, rages on like a hungry teenager. It’s as if my stomach frequently yells, “Hey, we’re starving down here!” I’m striking a balance between eating everything in sight and knowing that I’ll turn into Dakota the Puffy Balloon Kid if I do, which means sometimes I have to put my adolescent stomach in detention and let it grumble at me.

Not that we’ve been sitting around eating bon bons and drinking chai all day. Quite the contrary. Since we unclipped our cycling shoes on October 6th, I’ve had a grand total of two days lounging. As my friend Eric said recently, “Good God! Will the two of you just sit down and watch some television?”

No way. Instead, the day after finishing our bike tour found us gearing up for a four-day backpacking trip in Maine. Chelsea’s fabulous mother planned the expedition for us and her parents flew out to celebrate the bike tour’s end the best way I know: tromping through the woods beneath eye-popping fall foliage.

Perfect fall colors on the MHT amid the poplars.

Perfect fall colors on the MHT amid the poplars.

The huts are three hours north of Portland in a tiny town called Carrabassett Valley. Sugarloaf, a ski resort, sits high above the valley. The Appalachian Trail cuts through during its final legs less than five miles away. And over the last six years, a 35 year dream of a local finally happened. It’s called the Maine Hut Trails (MHT) and you need to check it out if you’re ever in this area!

In total, it’s a network of 12 planned huts, 4 currently built and operating, that will connect 180 miles of gorgeous trails. Planned as a cross-country ski destination, it also is great for backpacking and exploring fall colors, which is what brought us there. Picture gleaming log lodges about 10 miles apart with big windows looking out at trees, lakes or over a valley. Throw in three meals a day cooked for us (they easily accommodate special diets too) and the experience was one I highly recommend. All day outside in the trees plus a warm meal at the end of the day is our version of kicking back on a beach.

Our favorite hut during the hike, Stratton Brook. Huge windows overlooking the valley and a nice seating area by the fire.

Our favorite hut during the hike, Stratton Brook. Huge windows overlooking the valley and a nice seating area by the fire.

Fallen leaves in a poplar grove during the hike.

Fallen leaves in a poplar grove during the hike.

I perform some of my clearest thinking when I’m in the woods. (I suspect I’m not alone in that.) Just me and one foot in front of the other. Striding through fall leaves with a pack on my back felt steady and good, even as my feet and shoulder muscles discussed the fact that bike touring didn’t prep them for this activity. And without needing to worry about logistics and where we were going to stay that night, I could reflect on our bike trip. No cell phone, no computer, just nature on full power for four days of unplugged tromping about.

I am letting the full experience of touring marinate before writing a reflections post (if I do one at all). While I’m relaxed post-tour and enjoyed our time in Maine, an unsettled feeling occasionally pops into my consciousness now that we’re without bikes. Time for a new project or goal to engage my compass. I’ve felt this before after achieving significant milestones in my life and I think we all run into it at junctures in our personal journey. (It’s that moment when you submit a big report or watch empty Dixie cups kick around in the wind after a race.) I suspect it would mean I’m not challenging myself enough if I didn’t have moments like this, so I’m just going with it.

An evening canoe on Flagstaff Lake, the first hut we stayed in.

An evening canoe on Flagstaff Lake, the first hut we stayed in.

It’s not a let down or disappointment to be transitioning off the bikes, which we shipped home in a zero-fanfare moment. (I didn’t even tear up, though Chelsea curbed the urge to run back and hug her bike.) It’s just a different phase to which I need to adjust. The hard part will be not bringing it up in every conversation for awhile. Maybe I’ll wear my cycling shorts and jersey a couple days a week and pretend we’re still touring.

Engaging my body while my mind whirs away always works for me. So while I mulled over various ideas the last few weeks, we backpacked on the MHT, hiked granite outcroppings on the coast of Maine near Acadia, and soaked up the final gasps of New England’s leaf show. If nothing else, it was a splendid ramp down for the gnawing beast that is my metabolism as we transition into the winter and not biking every day. From here, feeding my insatiable desire to learn, grow and be challenged will take the place of cycling for awhile. Even if I already miss my bike, I’m looking forward to it.

Headed to Boston today! Ciao for now.

Dakota

A break on the trail.

A break on the trail.

Chelsea near the end of the MHT trail.

Chelsea near the end of the MHT trail.

The Narrow Gauge Rail Trail finish line near where we parked the car. Note for mountain bikers: there are NICE gravity trails in the area built by MTBers for MTBers. Worth a visit!

The Narrow Gauge Rail Trail finish line near where we parked the car. Note for mountain bikers: there are NICE gravity trails in the area built by MTBers for MTBers. Worth a visit!

This young lad was the host of the final MHT hut. His name ?Dakota James...Just. Like. Mine. Whaaaaat are the chances?!

This young lad was the host of the final MHT hut. His name? Dakota James…Just. Like. Mine. Whaaaaat are the chances?!

Dozens of planks spanned creeks during our hike.

Dozens of planks spanned creeks during our hike.

 

C and parents on the MHT.

C and parents on the MHT.

Cranking Through the Rockies – Bike Touring Video (Part 1 of 4)

Waterton National Park, Alberta

I rarely look back. Forward, onward, tally ho! Always new adventures on the horizon, people to visit, places to see, as they say. Perhaps you’ve picked up on that?

Maybe that’s the reason I so enjoyed digging into the videos from our bike tour between hikes in Acadia National Park while we “kicked back” in Maine. Photos are fun to flip through, but they don’t pick up the wind, the rumble of a motorcycle, a joke or stupid song (there were lots) or the patter of raindrops. And even though the experiences are fresh, taking the journey anew through the videos was a fabulous time. I loved combining them into one continuous film voyage to bring you along for the ride and hopefully inspire you to take your own tour. Or maybe convince you that touring is the dumbest thing ever and you’d rather get on a plane to Cabo instead. (I had those thoughts…see Day 23 in the video.)

It was interesting watching my tone change as the trip progressed. You can literally see me relax and get into a flow where I was less stressed or worried. Lots more joking as my goofy side took charge and my business side (which isn’t the real me anyway) slid into the background. It was still there taking care of logistics, but the rest of the time I was more carefree and open to whatever came our way. I think you’ll notice too.

When we were deciding if extended touring was for us, I would have loved to see a video like this with commentary from the rider rather than just music. From a couple hours of clips, I cut it way down to pass along the ups and downs of touring plus scenery from many parts of the country that most people never visit. I think you’ll dig it!

This is part 1 of 4 and covers 32 days from our start in Viola, Idaho to Spearfish, SD over 1,346 miles. (Here’s part 2.) Come along for the ride! It winds through the Rocky Mountains with some amazing scenery in Glacier and Waterton National Parks. Then we hit the plains and roll across Montana in a diagonal line to Spearfish, South Dakota.

Email subscribers, click here to view the video. Others, just click play below to watch the embedded version. A note that all videos were taken with an iPhone and were impromptu, unrehearsed and occasionally ridiculous. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Cheerio,

Dakota

P.S. In case you haven’t seen it, check out the stats summary with all the numbers from our bike tour.

 

Bike Touring Across the U.S. – Breaking Down The Numbers

Enjoying a sunny day in New Hampshire.

Enjoying a sunny day in New Hampshire.

Ah, numbers. The engineer in me loves this post. For all of you who requested data summing up our bike tour, put your Spock hat on and enjoy. While in no way does a bunch of digits encapsulate the fun, travails, adventure and overall accomplishment of riding 4,000 miles across the States, it is interesting to see it all laid out.

Without further ado, here’s the full route we took and below that is all the data. If you’re not interested, skip the numbers and just look at the pictures or watch the video (Part 1) of our tour. However, I promise there aren’t any graphs or bar charts, so don’t be skerred. 🙂

All the twists and turns from the SE corner of Washington all the way to Portland, Maine.

All the twists and turns from the SE corner of Washington all the way to Portland, Maine. We’re all about the most direct route…

  • Total Miles Ridden: 4,010
  • Total Miles: 4,052 (includes 20 miles on a ferry across Lake Champlain to Burlington and 22 miles late at night in the back of a pickup truck in Illinois on a thunderstorm/faulty tire day)
  • Distance if We’d Taken the Freeway Straight Across: 2,900 (nooooo thanks! So boring.)
  • Total Days: 101 (June 28 – October 6, 2014)
  • Total Days on the Bike: 83 (rest/fun/logistics days = 18 out of the 101 total)
  • Total Hours Pedaling Bikes: 363 for D, 401 for C (I waited at the top of big hills and long passes. Before you report me to the Spouse Abandonment Police: don’t worry, we rode together a lot too!)
  • Average Time Per Day Riding: 4.5 hours for D, 5.1 for C, with about 7.5 hours from start to finish each day including stopping for whatever
  • Elevation Gain: 127,490 (4.75 trips up Everest from sea level and 1,500 feet per day average)
  • Average per Day: 48.1 miles (not including rest days. Our goal at the outset was 50 per day so not bad.)
  • Average Speed: 11.0 for D, 10.0 for C

    Chelsea climbs a pass on a sunny day in the White Mountains.

    Chelsea climbs a pass on a sunny day in the White Mountains.

  • Days Without a Shower: Only 6 days. And 3 of those featured creeks or lakes for a nice dip at the end of the day.
  • Longest Stretch Without Seeing Another Bike Tourist: 61 days (Nebraska all the way to New York…and the guy we saw in NY wasn’t going cross-country)
  • Number of Motorcycle Rallies We Inadvertently Crashed: 2 (Sturgis, SD and Ohio)
  • Number of States We Pedaled In: 15 of them. 16 if insanity is a state… (Plus one Canadian province.)
  • Longest Day: 85 miles (a not-flat day in the cornfields of Nebraska. Honorable mention to 84 miles in 98 degrees in SE Montana where we met a beat-up looking bike tourist who spent the prior night in a ditch after calling it early due to 30 mph wind and killer heat.)
  • Shortest Day: 5 miles (seaplane rides always trump cycling)
  • Longest Continuous Climb: 29.7 miles (4,500’ climb into the Black Hills from Spearfish, SD)
  • Steepest Climb: 23% grade in the Finger Lakes near Ithaca, New York
  • Biggest Elevation Day: 5,600’ (up and down along Lake Koocanusa in NW Montana)
  • Biggest Surprise Elevation Day: 4,000’ in…Iowa?! Dude, WTF.
  • Hottest recorded temperature: 107 degrees in Thompson Falls, MT (and there was the day in SE Montana when it hovered around 100 all day and 97 the next. PLENTY of days in the mid-90s in the Midwest)
  • Swimming-In-Humidity Award : Illinois! August is steamin’ there.

    A great vista at the top of a pass in the White Mountains.

    A great vista at the top of a pass in the White Mountains.

  • Earliest pedaling start time: 6:02 am (Cardston, Alberta back into Montana on a hot, long, windy day)
  • Latest start: Crack of noon a few times on shorter mileage days or if we were enjoying conversation with people hosting us. Our get-after-it-early mentality quickly slid as temps dropped in September in favor of hanging out with cool people as long as possible and still make some progress east.
  • Latest finish: 10:09 pm with the fireflies in the pitch dark to Greenfield, Iowa for a night’s stay at an opera house
  • Days in a Row without a Day Off: 10 (average of 7-9 days in a row pedaling)
  • Most Days Off in a Row: 2

    Dakota climbing in the White Mountains. Roads the way cyclists love them: low traffic and big shoulder under blue skies.

    Dakota climbing in the White Mountains. Roads the way cyclists love them: low traffic and big shoulder under blue skies.

  • Flat tires: 5 for D (4 destructo-bomb blowouts thanks to a rim that was finicky with higher tire pressures, 1 flat with a sharp piece of gravel) and 3 for C
  • Tires replaced: This was an FAQ by people we met: “How many tires have you replaced?” Not many! Zero for D (new set of Schwalbe Marathons easily made it) and 3 for C. Her tires started with a few thousand miles on them already and then there was a faulty new tire that pooped out after only 1,000 miles.
  • Other bike troubles: ZERO. My Salsa Fargo and C’s Surly Cross-Check worked flawlessly. Hoo-ray.
  • Pairs of Cycling Shorts Turned Transparent/Indecent by Sunshine: 1 for D, 2 for C (all our panniers went from bright to very faded red too)
  • Personal Injuries: Zero. Lucky stars counted for this one. We’re both feeling great and strong as can be.
  • Number of Pushups Done to Avoid Turning Into All-I-Do-Is-Bike Upper Body Wimpo:  6,270 (max of 78 in a row). Finished stronger than I started, but still didn’t hit my goal of 100 straight!
  • Number of Vehicles Honking in Anger: Just 1 (an a-hole in a red sports car in Wahoo, Nebraska)
  • Number of Vehicles Honking or Waving to Cheer Us On: Dozens!
  • Number of Days We Expected to Be Flat that Weren’t: Roughly the same number we expected (dreamed?) that we’d have a tailwind and didn’t. Meaning a lot.
  • Chance We’ll Bike Tour Through the Midwest Again in August Heat: 1.3% (never say never)
  • Chance We’ll Do a Long Bike Tour Again in the Future: 100%! Continental Divide perhaps? I didn’t buy a Salsa Fargo just for road riding…

And that’s the data! I could of course crunch more of it, but I’d rather finish this glass of wine and watch a movie here in Bar Harbor, Maine. If you’d like to know a certain stat, let me know and I’d be happy to dig into it.

Ciao for now,

Dakota

P.S. I pulled most of the data from the GPS info I uploaded to Strava during our trip. Then I tapped into a great Strava aggregation tool that made it really easy to parse through.

We didn't count, but here's just a sampling of all the awesome people we met along the way.

We didn’t count, but here’s just a sampling of all the awesome people we met along the way.

Chelsea rips down a mountain pass.

Chelsea rips down a mountain pass.

 

We Biked to the Atlantic Ocean!

We made it!We made it! Bonjour from Portland, Maine. 4,000 miles of effort, laughter, sweat and adventures lay to the west and the Atlantic Ocean stretches to the east with 101 days of bike touring at our backs.

And now, it’s time to turn around and pedal back! We are gearing up for a winter assault through Canada since Chelsea loves the test of freezing temps and I’ve always wanted to Eskimo kiss a caribou. Without rest days, I calculate we can reach the west coast by Christmas.

Juuust kidding. Biking in the cold sucks. I will say that if I had a dollar for every person who asked, “How are you getting home? Biking?” I could fly us both home first-class and probably buy a nice messenger bag to carry my two ratty, grease-spotted cycling jerseys too. That isn’t the plan though.

We considered continuing our cycle tour down the east coast all the way to the Florida Keys. (Yes, we’re still having that much fun.) We scoped out routes, deliberated a bit and then axed that idea. With days getting short and nasty weather looming, we decided it would be doable, but not nearly as enjoyable as returning another time to explore the Atlantic seaboard on bikes. Put that one on the bucket list, shelved for now.

A cool, foggy start to our last day in Maine.

A cool, foggy start to our last day in Maine.

Instead, we’re shipping our trusty touring steeds, the Salsa Fargo and Surly Cross-Check, back to Idaho to reunite with the van. And then…

The journey continues! We’re not done yet. Over eleven months on the road since we took off in the van last November. No bikes and no Sprinter van for this next leg, just us and the backpacks that Chelsea’s parents brought with them on the plane last night.

In November, we will be in one place (location to be announced, grin) awhile to reflect as winter rolls in. We’re slowing down the pace to let the past year soak in and wash over us. Time to let ideas from our trip marinate, sprout and take hold, which is always tougher when we’re constantly on the move.

Thanks for coming along for the ride! We love sharing it with you and so appreciate hearing from people we’ve met all over the country or those who found us through the magic of the Interwebs. Looking forward to having you aboard as we traipse about.

 Onward!

Dakota

 

Every finish to a bike ride requires matching lightning socks! D is blue/yellow, C is black/red. Shazam!

Every finish to a bike ride requires matching lightning socks! D is blue/yellow, C is black/red. Shazam!

Heel click at the Atlantic!

Heel click at the Atlantic!

A Final Exam in the White Mountains

If our trip is a three month study of cycle touring, Saturday in New Hampshire was the final exam. Quizzes of headwinds and prep tests of hills in the rain had us ready, and good thing. The White Mountains are famous for their fickle weather and steep climbs, both of which were thrown at us as we cranked up Kancamagus Pass. “The Kanc,” as locals call it.

Let me first say that I am not complaining. We chose to do this tour and never expect every day on the bikes to be fun. Perhaps you picked up on that? I often shake my head and laugh harder on days that test my will and patience because sometimes it can seem so ridiculous to be outside. (As one guy we met told us, “That sounds like way too much work for a vacation.” This ain’t a vacation, buddy!) People driving the other way must think I’m eating lead paint chips instead of trail mix when they see me grinning away in the pouring rain. And the more rain, the more I grin. Into the fray and out the other side stronger, either mentally or physically. Or at least that’s what I like to tell myself.

Chelsea working hard near the Kancamagus Pass overlook in a cold, soaking rain. She doesn't always smile. :)

Chelsea working hard near the Kancamagus Pass overlook in a cold, soaking rain. She doesn’t always smile. 🙂

With so few days on the bikes left, a day in the rain wasn’t a big deal. Neither was a tough climb. If we can’t handle those after 3,900 miles of biking, we need to find a couch and put on Mr. Potato Head costumes. (Or maybe I need that costume for cycling regardless?) The roundhouse kick to the day was constant streaming traffic seeking fall foliage at its peak. Nothing sets us on edge like crawling up a mountain while cars and Harleys gun past in a rush to get to a summit socked in with clouds.

If every day on the bikes was like this, we wouldn’t bike tour. It wears on the nerves, slams down blinders over nice views, and makes me want to chuck my bike in a ditch and stick out my thumb for a ride. And yet a simple mantra got me through heat in the plains, headwinds in the Midwest and dangerous traffic in cities and busy roads. “This too shall pass,” I tell myself. Semi hauling doomed cows roars by with a giant gust of wind while trailing steer piss and a horrible stench? Wind so strong I have to stand up to pedal? “This too shall pass,” I yell into the onslaught.

A misty morning in the White Mountains east of Lincoln, NH.

Before the rain… A misty morning in the White Mountains east of Lincoln, NH.

It’s a simple saying I’ve known for years (who hasn’t heard it?), and yet cycle touring has deployed it to the front lines of my brain. This bike trip constantly reminds me that few things in life, good or bad, are permanent. If we take anything too seriously, especially ourselves and whatever “random” path in life we are on, all we need to do is think “this too shall pass.” I’ve found that it also adds perspective to ask myself, “Why do I deserve this?” Oh yeah, that’s right…I did this, which led to that, and here I am.

Claiming responsibility for being on The Kanc in subpar conditions made it just another day, one we could steel ourselves against and emerge triumphant. Which we did, pedaling up soaking wet and hungry to delicious fresh-baked bread and hot soup at a host’s home in North Conway. Sitting by a warm fire shoveling food into my face, the trials of the day were forgotten like engineering formulas from college.

And now, with the Atlantic Coast practically in sight, it’s like the final week of high school when all we do is watch movies in class and wait to graduate. The hard work is done, and easy rolling hills and sunshine are our playground for the rest of the tour. Or so it seems. If that changes, life goes on. For that too shall pass as we spin toward the coast and whatever comes next.

Onward!

Dakota

P.S. Here are a couple short videos from the day. Please excuse my consistently amateur, unedited and shaky camera work! Also, for all of you reading via email, here are the links: Video 1 and Video 2.

P.P.S. The shots below are from the day after riding the pass. As they say in New Hampshire, if you don’t like the weather, wait a day!

Light filters through a grove of trees.

Light filters through a grove of trees. The leaves are falling!

Enjoying lunch on a quiet lake just after crossing the border into Maine. (I also took a nap.)

Enjoying lunch on a quiet lake just after crossing the border into Maine. (I also took a nap.)

Faces from the Road: Steve from New York Dishes Out Some Inspiration

SONY DSC

“I always ride my bike to the trail head. Couple hundred miles on the bike, sleep in the bush on the way,” Steve told me as we pedaled next to him in the Adirondacks. He wore jean shorts and a beat-up hat and carried a huge backpack loaded with camping gear. “I just rest my pack on the gear on the rear rack and it works great.” My padded-shorts butt felt for him, but he seemed happy and in high spirits.

Steve rode an old-school mountain bike and was headed into the mountains to finish hiking the last six peaks of the Adirondack 46. Thirty years after laying sights on hiking the tallest 46 mountains in the Adirondack Mountains, this was the final push.

Here was a guy in his late 50’s flipping conventional bike touring wisdom on its head. With no training and the “wrong” gear, he was doing a 400 mile bike tour through steep mountains and sandwiching three days of backpacking in the middle! And he had nailed the peak seasons for fall foliage and was going to have an amazing time. Good for him!

Chatting with Steve as we climb through fall colors near Blue Mountain Lake.

Chatting with Steve as we climb through fall colors near Blue Mountain Lake.

Meeting him also got me thinking. With Portland, Maine beckoning from a scant 130 miles away 0ver the White Mountains, all the meditating in the world can’t stop me from pondering the next big adventure. A quest like Steve’s inspires me to consider challenges that are woven into the fabric of life for years to come rather than an all-consuming one like this bike tour.

Don’t get me wrong, there will be more adventures that require practically all our time and energy. Meeting Steve simply ignited a desire to frame out and pursue a big, audacious goal to tantalize and motivate us over a long period of time. A big writing project? Mountain biking all the IMBA Epics? Start a for-purpose company to build schools? Bike touring every country in Europe? Or maybe something completely out of left field like kayaking the Inside Passage (Kipp, let’s do it)? In the words of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons, exxxcellent.

But first things first. After a fantastic stay in Burlington that we extended after making some great new friends, today finds us pedaling into the White Mountains on a perfect fall day. Big climbs and remote mountain territory points toward a great finale enroute to Maine! Talk to you on the other side.

Dakota

P.S. A few shots from the last couple days are below.

Sunset over Lake Champlain from the lakeside path in Burlington.

Sunset over Lake Champlain from the lakeside path in Burlington.

We don't always ride on roads! Exploring some singletrack on a foggy day in Vermont.

We don’t always ride on roads! Exploring some singletrack on a foggy day in Vermont.

A thick mane of leaves frames a mountain vista in Vermont.

A thick mane of leaves frames a mountain vista in Vermont.

Gorgeous fall morning in Vermont near Montpelier. Some of the fallen leaves still have color and there are plenty remaining on the trees.

Gorgeous fall morning in Vermont near Montpelier. Some of the fallen leaves still have color and there are plenty remaining on the trees.

Montpelier, the cutest capitol city I've seen. They have a great co-op too!

Montpelier, the cutest capitol city I’ve seen. They have a great co-op too!

New Hampshire! Sunset on the foliage and a church.

New Hampshire! Sunset on the foliage and a church. We must really be in New England now.