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

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“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.

Faces from the Road: Mike from Nebraska

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Chelsea cuts through fog on a quiet, eerie morning in the Sand Hills of Nebraska.

Chelsea cuts through fog on a quiet, eerie morning in the Sand Hills of Nebraska. Sunflowers are my only foreground out here, SORRY.

“You know why they call this God’s country? Cuz no one else wants it!” joked Mike from Wood Lake, Nebraska, population 64.

Chelsea and I are out of the rolling Sand Hills of Nebraska and into griddle-flat corn and cattle country. The kind of territory where you spot a green oasis of shady trees, then ride an hour to reach them. The air is wet with humidity, a welcome change from dry Montana, and smells like Florida, a sweet and pungent odor of crops and grass. Every evening, we watch thunderstorms gather with a mighty force before smiting the earth with pounding hail, gusting wind and lashing rain.

This is a taciturn part of the U.S. People are friendly – everyone waves at us – and yet reserved. Tiny towns, often less than 100 people, are quiet and bleak with boarded up windows and “For Lease” signs everywhere. Their residents are people whose faces reveal that making a living here takes hard work and a steely countenance.

Our buddy Mike.

Our buddy Mike.

We ate lunch seated next to Mike in a greasy spoon diner, our total bill $5.28 for two plates of hashbrowns and veggies. Outside, he gave us a hard time for not having an engine on our bikes, his features masked by a giant beard and cowboy hat tilted low.

Mike was pissed off to miss the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally for the first time in 35 years due to a hay harvest delayed by rain. Between spraying rockets of spittle from the chaw packed into his lip, he did have a sense of humor though.

Mike runs operations on thousands of acres of hay and cattle land. “I was hired on a 30 day contract. That was 27 years ago. I keep asking the bosses when they’re gonna hire me full-time and they say there ain’t enough work. I tell them that’s good cuz I ain’t done 30 days worth of work yet anyway.”

Riding through Nebraska.

Riding through Nebraska.

Nebraska feels honest and real. The landscapes are surprisingly beautiful, a welcome change from the dry emptiness of SE Montana. We’re digging the trip through America’s heartland and visits with down-to-earth people along the way. One more day in Nebraska and then we’re into the rolling hills of Iowa!

Pedaling on,

Dakota

Fog and farm in Nebraska.

Fog and farm in Nebraska.

Cattle brands ring the ceiling of a cafe in Nebraska. 400 of them!

Cattle brands from various ranches ring the ceiling of a cafe in Nebraska. 400 different brands!

Faces from the Road: Henk from Holland

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Henk from HollandThe Earth may be huge, but the world is small and coincidence abounds. For example, take Henk, whom we met in Southern Utah in Escalante in May. He was halfway through a bike tour up through the national parks to Canada. I grilled him for info on our upcoming tour and then honked and waved as we drove off in the Sprinter as he pedaled along, American flag flapping in the desert wind.

Imagine my surprise two months later when a leaner, extremely tan Henk pedaled into our campsite in Glacier with a spirited and accented “hello!” Unmistakably the same friendly, grinning guy from Utah. We quickly caught up and enjoyed chatting about our respective trips. Other than passing out from the heat in Moab on a 100+ degree day (yikes), his trip had gone well and he was loving life.

When we first met, Henk mentioned he was afraid that touring solo as a foreigner would be lonely (his wife had to work and couldn’t join him), but that the U.S. has been so friendly and he was having a wonderful time. It’s great hearing that kind of information from visitors to our country! He looked strong, fit and happy and I was stoked to have crossed paths again while on our own tour.

It’s a small world, after all!

Til next time,

Dakota

P.S. We’re exploring the Black Hills of South Dakota the next few days on a great rails-to-trails route, in case you’re wondering. Here’s the trip map for our journey so far!

Faces from the Road: Eli, Helen and Darcey from B.C.

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Continental Divide riders - Eli, Helen and DarceyRemember the summer when you were 14? Me neither! Thinking back, about all I recall is morning baseball practice and an overall sense of trying to fit in wearing my damn sweatpants. That and turning down a fun vacation to the national parks of Utah with my family to stay home for the above-mentioned baseball. Dumb!

Well, THIS teenager, Eli, is riding the Continental Divide a couple thousand miles on a mountain bike all the way from Canada down through Colorado with his parents! That’s 30 crossings of the Divide via fire roads and single track through bear country. He’s not even a cross-country rider and didn’t train for this trip: “Yeah, I mostly ride downhill with my brother.”

Hats off to you and bon voyage team!

Dakota

P.S. I’m writing this from a wifi-enabled campground up in Canada (what is the world coming to?). Monday morning, we head south out of Canada back into the States through no-mans land toward Cut Bank, Montana.

Faces from the Road: Ray from Quebec

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Ray from QuebecSome people just embody an activity. Ray, who we met on a remote highway in NW Montana, sums up the essence of bike touring.

We crossed paths with him on the 4th of July as he biked west. Sporting a cotton shirt with “America: the best things in life are free” emblazoned across the chest with an eagle patterned in stars and stripes, Ray was astride an old, well-worn bike with thousands upon thousands of miles on it. He had been all over the place on tour – Mexico, Canada, the US, and elsewhere.

Ray doesn’t travel with a computer, GPS or a specific route in mind. He camps along the way and is simply out exploring the world while enjoying the heck out of it. When we asked if he was all good on water, he gestured behind us and said, “There is lots of water in the mountains.” Hell. Yes. A true adventurer!

I love the common ground that bike touring brings to life. Chelsea and I with our shiny bikes and glossy panniers, helmet lights blinking and reflective jerseys on, were doing the same thing as Ray with his rig: pedaling across the country trying to find food, water and shelter while taking in whatever scenery, people and adventures present themselves. Every day is a fresh landscape and challenge to surmount, and we can point our tires wherever we please. And that seems like true freedom to me!

Happy (belated) Independence Day,

Dakota