Pudding Wine? I’ll Just Have the Chips, Thanks

Tree-lined pathI’ve never had trouble ordering a drink before. Then I went to England.

“I’ll have a water,” I told my server at a London restaurant. He stared at me as if I were speaking a dialect of Baboon. “Wa-ter,” I repeated. He shook his head, sorry to be dealing with someone so incredibly stupid.

Two more tries, both of us 100% certain the other was a bleeding idiot. Then, he got it. “Oh, woh-tuh!”

If there is one experience so far that sums up the difference between England and the U.S., that almost-fail of a drink order is it. You see, I’ve found most things are similar to back home, but all experiences contain a slight tweak.

Tweaks like smaller vehicle exclusion gates. Either my bike is fat or this pathway is too narrow...

Tweaks like smaller vehicle-exclusion gates. Either my bike is fat or this is too narrow…

 

There’s the language, which is the “same,” yet totally different. Speed bumps are “humped crossings” (giggle) or “sleeping policeman,” as a speeding taxi driver told us. Pants are underwear, and trousers are pants. (I still haven’t figured out which to wear as an exterior layer.) Courgette is zucchini, aubergine is eggplant, and “the dog’s bollocks” means “that is the shit.” Pudding is dessert, as in “pudding wine” for a sweet finish to a meal. And while we’re talking about food, all lodging features hot water boilers for tea, but never coffee makers.

As you may know, everyone drives on the left side of the road in England. Easy enough, right? Well, this is terrifying on a bike and makes me feel hunted at traffic intersections. I carefully look both ways, but fully expect a vehicle to drop out of the sky and crush me nonetheless. Roundabouts replace stop sign intersections and act as slingshots for the vehicles that gun through them like rocket ships trying to escape a planet’s pull.

Fields and paths

Luckily, most of our days are spent on car-free paths like this.

Away from cities, bike lanes and the national cycling network make for quiet, scenic riding. Compared to touring in the U.S., equivalent mileage takes much longer here. In the States, we might follow one or two quiet highways all day, which allowed for consistent pedaling. Route finding is tougher here, with dozens of tricky turns to navigate. Beyond that, the riding is slower through gated fields, bumpy canal walkways with ancient bridges, and gravel paths in the middle of nowhere. It’s a shift in mentality to ride fewer miles, but we’re handling it nicely so far.

The National Cycling Network is a mix of narrow country roads, dirt paths, and canal walkways that cross England. Follow the signs for a good ride!

The National Cycling Network is a mix of narrow country roads, dirt paths, and canal walkways that cross England. Follow the signs for a good ride!

Slightly random, but I am impressed by the ADA accessibility. Most toilets (as bathrooms are called) are designed to accommodate wheelchairs, with low sinks and plentiful grab handles. Hand dryers also replace paper towels. It’s as if the country is designed for the least physically capable. Perhaps I’m reading into it, but to me that’s a representation of England’s willingness to take care of society’s fringes, whether through welfare, medical care, or something as simple as a handle to assist getting off the can.

Tipping is also different. It’s rarely done, and then only at nice restaurants of the type we aren’t allowed to patronize in full spandex cycling garb. I think the lack of tips explains why bartenders will kick people out at exactly closing time. A British woman told us that servers and salespeople in the U.S. felt overly saccharine and helpful; to us, the distant, pre-occupied employees seem almost rude. I should also point out that tipping is unrelated to, “no fly tipping,” which means “don’t dump your junky furniture in this field.” (In the U.S., the sign would say “no illegal dumping.”)

We enjoyed four days of parties and festivities in and around London for my good friend Ryan's wedding to his beautiful and oh-so-nice new wife, Dhara. (She also kept our attendance a secret, down to giving us Indian names on the seating charts!) My first time to a Hindu wedding, which was so fun!

We enjoyed four days of parties and festivities in and around London for my good friend Ryan’s wedding to his lovely new wife, Dhara. (She also kept our surprise attendance a secret, down to giving us Indian names on the seating charts to hide it from Ryan.) My first time to a Hindu wedding, which was so fun!

People still live in houses. Except here in England, many residences are OLD. Like, built-800-years-ago old. People who visit the U.S. marvel at the shiny, big, and new; we are struck by the quaint and ancient. Pedaling along country lanes past stone fences laid centuries ago, bouncing over cobblestones in a tiny village, or enjoying a chai in a market square (every city we’ve seen has a walking-only central shopping district), we are struck by how present history is here versus covered by “progress.” Back home on the west coast, old is 120 years. Here, that’s scarcely a blip on time’s fickle radar. When a gravestone laments the death of someone who died from The Black Plague, that is old.

Pedaling through a centuries-old village north of London.

Pedaling through a centuries-old village north of London.

It feels good to be bike touring! Assembling the trip and traveling abroad was exhausting, but jet lag’s gloomy mist has cleared and our brain’s are working again. I am quite relaxed compared to last year when we pushed hard on the bikes and threw down mileage every day. We smile and laugh at town names like “Leighton Buzzard” or “Heath and Reach” and take each day as a fresh adventure. Less mileage means the slower going is fine, a nice treat.

Bridges and canals

In fact, we decided to kick back for an impromptu birthday stop today at That Amazing Place, a 1000 year-old monastery turned B&B. I could wax poetic about this divine location for a full paragraph, but suffice to say it features both a custom-built obstacle course AND complimentary wine refills while relaxing in the hot tub with a view of the English countryside. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my 33rd birthday! (Unfortunately, I missed the obstacle course record by a bit. I must be getting old.)

In two days, we’ll roll the bikes aboard a night ferry on England’s east coast. The next morning, we’ll wake up in Holland and wheel south toward Belgium. And that’s what makes Europe the dog’s bollocks: each country is a short hop (or pedal) away, yet represents a new language, fresh customs, and a totally different experience. I may continue to have issues ordering drinks, but at least we’ll be back on the right (excuse me, correct) side of road soon.

Back windows

Still gotta handle logistics! D gets a haircut in the central square in Bicester (pronounced "Bister").

Still gotta handle logistics! D gets a haircut in the central square in Bicester (pronounced “Bister”).

A heron hunts for his dinner along a canal with houseboats in the background.

A heron hunts for his dinner along a canal with houseboats in the background.

Bikes, Europe, Go!

Bike tour Europe

Our latest trip has me excited, and also thinking about time zones. It’s a strange neurosis.

As I write this, I’m sitting on a plane across the Atlantic Ocean while Chelsea snoozes at my side. Tired travelers shift in their chairs around me, struggling to make the seven hour flight passably comfortable. According to the plane’s flight tracker, it’s -55 degrees outside with a 75 mph tailwind as we pass south of Greenland.

Three weeks ago, I was mountain biking in Santa Cruz. Our summer plan was in place: another few weeks in California, then motoring north to the Pacific Northwest for sunshine in the forest. It was nice to have plans…and then we scrapped them! A day later, we bought plane tickets and changed direction completely.

The new plan? A 3.5 month bike tour in Europe. Fly into London to surprise a friend at his pre-wedding party (only his fiance knows to expect us). Pedal for a few months. Fly out of Prague to attend wedding festivities at a farm sanctuary near New York City. In between the nuptials, there’s no set route and no plans except to explore, enjoy, and spin on as many no-car bike paths as possible.

This tour is going to be different than last year’s U.S. jaunt. For one, the distance is shorter – it’s barely 1,000 miles from London to Prague – which allows us to meander. We did that much mileage in just Montana during our bike ride to Maine last year! We could scorch through 1,000 miles in a few weeks and still have ample time to linger in French cafes and perfect the jaunty angle of a beret. Instead of cranking out miles every day, our goal this year is to linger in areas we love, keep our daily mileage below 50, and treat this less as a physical challenge than an exploration of culture and beautiful places.

We talked through this trip last fall when we were stoked and physically strong from 4,000 miles of bike touring. By the end, however, the logistics of 101 days of touring had drained our energy and we were tapped out like sugar maples after a long season. We needed to just hang out awhile, and planning a European tour was too much at the time. As we left for our Utah jaunt in March, we told ourselves that the one thing we wouldn’t do this summer would be a bike tour in Europe.

Whaaaat shall we bring for 3.5 months of biking, camping, and looking hawt in cafes? Can't believe all this stuff fits in four panniers!

Whaaaat shall we bring for 3.5 months of biking, camping, and looking hawt in cafes? Can’t believe all this stuff fits in four panniers!

Still, the time is never right for a big trip overseas. I could conjure excuses for a decade about why doing this another year makes more sense. First and foremost, my business is cranked to the max right and taking a lot of my time. I will also be dealing with being nine hours ahead. At 5 pm European time, the west coast of the U.S. is just sitting down with their coffee to check Facebook and their morning emails. At midnight, it’s lights out here and merely mid-afternoon back home.

I’m leery of handling this, but confident it will work out. I’ve learned that a strong foundation sometimes only imparts enough of a launch pad to let me stand in one place and dream. To attach wings to a dreams requires wrapping uncertainty in a fiery bear hug and jumping into the deep end with it. When I look back, anything that excited and scared me, even as I sprang off the diving board, invariably resulted in my learning something about myself or the world. Sometimes there’s wreckage to pick through, a burning heap of a failed attempt, but that’s usually not the case. I’m not setting out to build a new enterprise – I simply need to take my tried and true remote work techniques to a new level.

There’s magic in pushing the envelope into discomfort. While I’m wary of the lug nuts on my business loosening and a wheel or two clunking off into the dust, what this is going to do is force me to innovate. The simple aspects of my work will be easiest to outsource; it’s the functions that I think (pretend?) are unique to me that will take creative engineering. But the more I think about having the entire day free to just ride and explore, with work starting up in the evening, the better it sounds. There are always silver linings.

Taking the bikes apart to box and ship them through on the plane. SCARY.

Taking the bikes apart to box and ship them through on the plane. Thanks for the help, Steve!

The worst case is posting up in a town and simply working remotely late at night all summer. The best case (my favorite) is that we have an amazing time exploring the European continent on a relaxed schedule and, as a side benefit, further extricate myself from the day-to-day mechanics of my business. With a bucket list that includes many off-the-grid adventures with weeks away from a cell connection or a laptop, I need systems in place to take care of this. Nothing like a fire under my arse to accomplish it.

More updates to come as we wheel our way east across the continent. Cheers to no plan, the unexpected, and the network of bike paths that apparently crisscross this area of the world. Follow along with daily shots on Instagram (@traipsingabout) and I’ll also be updating this blog as time allows (and this trip map). This latest adventure is officially launched!

P.S. If you have recommendations for places to visit or have friends we could meet up with, let us know! We’d love your input.

Happy Wife, Happy Life – Keeping It Together On the Road

Columbia River Gorge in the fog

Some people get cranky when they’re hungry. I summon NARG.

NARG is an ugly, surly monster. He lacks empathy or logic and excels at blaming. Slumbering most of the time, this Creature From the A-Hole Lagoon climbs out of the depths and controls my being when my stomach grumbles too long.

Chelsea created this all-caps creation to separate the venomous devil of a cranky person from her usual (awesome, sweet, playful…HA) husband. That raging maniac telling her she’s the hungry one? That’s just NARG, not her husband. Feed the slavering beast and I return to Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde’s shadow disappearing into the foggy swamp.

Along with keeping me fed and subduing my alter-ego, we have a few other coping mechanisms for traveling together. You might wonder how our marriage survived eight months in 75 square feet of a camper van, not to mention weathered the 4,000 mile bike tour last summer without the van. It’s a good question, as I seldom write about our travel ethos or discuss practical advice regarding surviving (enjoying!) our travels.

Well, I’ll say this: there were no pre-established ground rules. They evolved. Slowly, in some cases, and immediately in others, usually after I was overly controlling and tried to tell my (always stubborn) wife what to do. Some practices evolved via discussion, others from necessity. It’s still a work in progress.

It's all about balance!

It’s all about balance! Chelsea and our friend Brooke demonstrating perfect form on a hike in the mossy Oregon coast range.

 

To wit (I’ve always wanted to write that): we recently did an excellent interview over lunch with my friend J.D. Roth, founder of the popular finance site Get Rich Slowly. The interview discusses many of our thoughts and philosophies related to staying sane and happy while exploring the world together, with ideas that apply to any kind of travel, whether by van, plane or bicycle. The discussion began because J.D. is about to launch on a long RV trip around the U.S. and is interviewing inspiring people along the way. I’m honored to be included.

We talked about many things, but one of my favorite quotes from our chat came from Chelsea. It totally sums up our current approach to travel (and life, for that matter). “I guess the bottom line is to be easy-going and adaptable,” she said. “When you’re nomadic, you’re open to serendipity. It permeates your whole life. You find yourself saying ‘yes’ a lot more. It’s a very ‘yes’ experience.”

When NARG isn't around, C and I get along. :) Here we're enjoying a walk on the Oregon beach. Always sunny in the NW!

When NARG isn’t around, C and I get along. Here we’re enjoying a walk on the Oregon beach. Always sunny in the NW! (Photo courtesy of Nicole B.)

Salsa Fargo 4,000 Mile Review – Why I Bought a Fargo, Not a Vaya

Salsa Fargo on Lake Koocanusa

Original touring setup. It’s evolved since than! (An overlook in Montana on Lake Koocanusa in 2014.)

Update May 2019: read this recent post to see the bikepacking additions I made to the Fargo for a tour through Spain and Portugal this spring. Check out this post about Fargoing (<–totally a verb) my way across Oregon on the Oregon Outback.

Locked and loaded on the Oregon Outback with six days of food.

I pedaled my Salsa Fargo 4,000 miles through the U.S. in summer 2014 and another 2,500 miles through Europe in 2015. This post explains why I think a Fargo is a great choice for anyone looking for a commuter or a touring bike that can handle pavement, gravel, dirt roads and light singletrack with equal ease.

There aren’t many bikes out there with such great versatility, yet most people don’t consider the Fargo for road touring. I think they should! I have no affiliation with Salsa (other than what I put on fajitas). I’m writing this only to help discuss this fairly new bike (in 2013) because I couldn’t find a comprehensive review during my search.

Making friends in Montana.

Making friends in Montana. “Hey, is that a Salsa?”

My rationale for Choosing the Salsa Fargo

When I started looking for a touring bike to replace my Lemond Poprad cyclocross bike, I debated forever before deciding on a bike. There are a dozen great options out there – how does one choose? After many test rides and hours combing through online forums and reviews, I bought a new 2013 Salsa Fargo 3. After our US bike tour in summer of 2014, I couldn’t be happier with my choice.

For me, it came down to three important factors: versatility, comfort and a steel frame. Weight was not a big factor since touring and commuting both add significant weight that I feel obscures the savings from, say, an aluminum or cargon frame. I also needed braze-ons for fenders and front/rear rack mounting.

Fargo in the White Mountains

Fall colors in New Hampshire.

Versatility

Trek, Surly, Salsa, Raleigh, and a few other models made my short list. At first, I leaned heavily toward Salsa’s well-regarded touring bike (the Vaya), largely due to Path Less Pedaled and their satisfaction with the bike.

However, I felt limited by the Vaya’s scope (limited to road touring/commuting) and not being able to fit tires bigger than 40mm for serious off-road adventures. Also, I would need to immediately switch up the Vaya’s gearing since it comes with a 30-tooth small front chain ring and 30-tooth rear, which isn’t a good ratio for spinning up steep mountain passes without destroying one’s knees and back. I’m not 21 anymore, dammit! (I’m totally going to be the 60-year-old guy on an electric bike crushing whippersnappers on climbs.)

My buddy Nate, a badass off-road tourer who throws down single week, 600 mile rides with 35k elevation gain, recommended the Fargo. It turned out to be the ideal bike for my needs and allows me to own one bike for touring plus town riding. Plus, I can run mountain bike tires (it comes stock with 2.2’s”, but I rode with Schwalbe Marathon 40’s) or slim road tires for various types of touring.

I’ve hauled up to 75 pounds of gear on the Fargo with the Salsa racks with no problems. Gravel, dirt, pavement – it handles it all.

Update 8/19/15: during our bike tour around Europe, I used Continental 42 series tires, which are designed for the fatty rims on the Salsa and allow slightly higher pressure. The bigger tires are great for touring over there.

Update spring 2019: I ran Schwalbe Marathon 50mm tires for our Spain/Portugal tour and am completely sold on the bigger tires. Don’t be a weight weenie – go bike and go tour!

By the way, dig these kinds of posts? Sign up for the free Traipsing About newsletter for more bike talk and future bikepacking adventures.

Gravel grinding on the Fargo

Back gravel paths of upstate New York.

Sizing Your Salsa Fargo

What size to buy? I’m 5’10” with a 32” inseam and always fit a medium in anything – clothing, bikes, jetpacks, corsets; you name it. Sizing charts all pointed to medium. And yet when I test rode the Fargo’s various sizes, the medium and large felt practically the same due to the relaxed geometry. (It’s the most comfortable bike I’ve owned). Tough choice. Nate pointed out that I could use a bigger frame bag if I went with the large, and many other people my size rode a large also. Coupled with my positive test ride experience, I chose large.

For me, it was the right choice. Unless you have monkey arms and dwarf legs, I bet you’ll fit great on a large if you’re 5’10”-6’0”. Note that Salsa will tell you otherwise; I spoke with their customer service and they couldn’t recommend anything other than what sizing charts tell you. Forums will disagree, and who knows how it feels for you, but a large worked for me.

Salsa Fargo on the Erie Canal

Hanging on the Erie Canal in NY. Chelsea is being sneaky.

Salsa Fargo Models – What’s the Difference?

The other dilemma was which Fargo model to buy. There’s the Fargo 3 (cheapest model), Fargo 2 or Fargo Titanium. At $4,500, the titanium was out – I don’t plan on racing on my Fargo unless it’s to meet friends for Thai food. At face value, the Fargo 2 was great because it has better components (SRAM X5/X7 versus X7/X9 on the Fargo 3), a suspension seat and a carbon fork.

BUT that carbon fork lacked braze-ons for mounting a front rack or water bottles. Deal killer for someone like me who wants the versatility without needing multiple forks. I could have bought the 2 and switched out the fork, but it wasn’t worth it. Fargo 3 it was.

I should also add that the Fargo 3 has braze-ons with enough space for five water bottles. That can work well if you use a frame bag; there’s still room for three water bottle cages. If you don’t want to run a front rack, you can use Salsa’s Anything Cage and carry a sleeping bag or pad on your forks. I’ll be doing this for future bike packing adventures.

Note: I use Salsa’s Alternator rear rack and down-under front rack. They work great – I carried 50 pounds on the rear rack on some seriously rough terrain in Europe and had zero issues.

Fargo in South Dakota

Cruising the Michelson Trail in South Dakota’s Black Hills. 110 miles of off-road gravel grinding!

Handling

The Salsa is a solid bike. If you’re used to a carbon rocket or a tight geometry touring bike, it’s going to feel a big sluggish at first. I had those leanings…but only for a few hours. And after two days on it, I realized my wrists weren’t hurting, my back felt great and it was a joy to ride, both uphill and downhill. With the low-rider front rack from Salsa, loaded panniers (I used Ortlieb Bike-Packer Plus for rear and Sport-Packers for the front) still allowed smooth handling with no chatter or wobbling, even at 40 mph down a mountain pass.

Gearing, Chainrings and Other Boring Gearhead Info

The Fargo is basically the same frame weight as the Vaya. It comes with SRAM DoubleTap shifters, which some people may not like. Such as me! I’m a Shimano guy and this is my first bike with SRAM. No reason to be concerned – any Luddite gorilla can figure out the shifting. Call me a Shimano heretic, but I actually grew to like the DoubleTap mechanism.

Gearing-wise, the Salsa come stock with a mountain double setup. I run 26/42 up front and an 11-36, 10-speed rear cassette, though I believe the new models are stock at 26/39, which would also work great. The sizeable head tube allows for a 100mm suspension fork to be installed with clearance for mountain bike tire, which results in a great off-road touring rig. All that together makes this a killer rig for the Continental Divide ride from Banff to Mexico, which is on my bucket list.

Only a double front chainring, you gasp into your PBR (dude, why are you drinking at work?). Yep, that’s right. I’m of the humble opinion that a triple front chainring is unnecessary for bike touring. Who wants to pedal downhill at 50 mph on a loaded bike? Self-imposed death sentence, no thanks. (And stop dreaming about tailwinds where you need a top-gear chainring. You’ll get one tailwind during your entire tour, and you’ll probably be eating lunch when it happens.) In fact, I spent 3/4 of my time touring in the small chainring. Go double and thank me later.

Middle of Montana

Snack by the side of a back country highway in eastern Montana.

Disc Brakes Rock

Don’t listen to rim brake snobs. Disc brakes on a loaded bike are fantastic. You’ll agree the first time you’re riding downhill in the rain and can actually stop without sacrificing a foot into spinning spokes. They’re easy to adjust (albeit occasionally squeaky) and won’t heat up your rims on the non-rainy descents. If you’re touring in Mongolia where parts are more than a falcon flight away, maybe rim brakes make sense. Most other places, I bet you’ll be fine. Brakes are overrated anyway; ask any fixie rider!

Riding Position and Comfort

The Salsa Fargo is one of the most comfortable bikes I’ve ever ridden. I usually slam my bars down as low as possible on mountain bikes for handling purposes, but that’s totally unnecessary for bike touring or commuting. Instead, my seat was slightly lower than the handlebars and it felt like sitting in a throne. For climbing, the stock Woodchipper handlebars were fantastic; their flared shape provided great hand position variation during long days. And saying “Woodchipper bars” is like wearing a flannel shirt and chopping two cords of wood in 5 degree weather – it makes you a badass.

Making friends with burly bikers at the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota.

Making friends with burly bikers at the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota.

Downsides

Thinking hard for this part, but can’t come up with anything! (Seriously, I’m not getting paid to write this.) The weight is all I’ve got – 36.5 pounds for my bike with fenders and front/rear racks installed was the final tally. Other than a few flats, I experienced zero issues with my Fargo over our 4,000+ mile bike tour, not to mention shorter rides post-tour. The bike feels bulletproof, the drivetrain wasn’t even noticeably worn at the end, and my body felt great afterward.

Final Thoughts

If you’re looking for a serious ass-kicker of a bike with tons of versatility for whatever two-wheeled adventure you’re contemplating, the Salsa Fargo is worth considering. After one big tour, I’m stoked to stuff mine in a box this coming summer, fly over the Atlantic and rampage all over Europe starting in early June.

Any other questions? Drop me a line via email or in the comments. Otherwise, cheers and happy bike shopping!

Dakota

P.S. Please contribute comments or thoughts below. This review is just my opinion and perhaps you have a different take on things. Share away!

Update May 2019: here’s the bikepacking-style updates I made to my Fargo for our tour through Spain and Portugal.

Salsa on a tree

Smashing Fall Colors in New England – Bike Touring Video, Part 4

Welcome to the final installment (part 4 of 4) of the video series covering our 4,000 mile bike tour in the summer of 2014. If you missed previous episodes, here are parts one, two and three. This video details our travels from upstate New York to the Atlantic Ocean in Portland, Maine.Adirondack fall colors

Everyone has an opinion about the timing for prime fall color viewing. “This coming weekend, for sure.” “Oh, you just missed them by six minutes. Bummer.” It seems like the changing leaves are a German train sticking to a tight timetable, not a process unfolding slowly in the woods. All aboard the Peak Foliage Express!

From the beginning, our bike tour goal was to hit New England in time to 1) avoid cycling in snow (Abominable Snowmen hate cyclists) and 2) smash into the explosion of colors for which the area is so famous. Somehow, it all worked out.

A perfect day along a river in the Adirondacks.

A perfect day along a river in the Adirondacks.

This was our favorite part of the tour. Crisp, cool weather coupled with scenic views that left our jaws hanging like a teenager at a strip club. It really is as good as they say. (Fall colors, people – stick with me here.)

We lucked out in other ways too. Warm Showers hosts graced us with their hospitality and we added a half dozen new friends to our lives. A guy in a coffee shop invited us back for lunch at his “camp”, which turned into a boat and plane adventure. A new buddy in Burlington is Chelsea’s new soul sister. A couple in Montpelier and their incredible adventures bike touring all over the world (four years total!) inspired us to push our limits.

New England was the perfect conclusion to a trip we’ll remember forever. The journey brought us closer together as a couple, further seared a love of adventure into our souls and inspired us for another bike tour sooner than later. Even if the fall colors are only 36 hours (pffft, we saw them into late October) and the locals can’t understand what all the fuss is about, we can’t wait to get back. I can’t recommend this area of the U.S. highly enough.

Here’s the link to the final video from our tour or just click play below. Turns out that video editing is a lot of work (I’d never done it before) and I’m glad to wrap this up. A few more photos below the video too. Enjoy, and onward!

Dakota

Ducks preen and watch a kayaker on Blue Mountain Lake.

Ducks preen and watch a kayaker on Blue Mountain Lake.

I found this funny - a short bus hiding out in the Tug Hill Wilderness in the middle of nowhere New York.

I found this funny – a short bus hiding out in the Tug Hill Wilderness in the middle of nowhere New York.

A lovely evening in Burlington, VT.

A lovely evening in Burlington, VT.

 

Cyborgs on Bikes – Bike Touring Video (Part 3)

This is Part 3 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 2, click here to check it out. This section covers from Indiana to the middle of upstate New York.

A gorgeous night on Fletcher Lake in Indiana. Jumped in for a swim and then we watched lightning on the horizon before camping out under a giant maple tree and listening to the rain on the tent.

A gorgeous night on Fletcher Lake in Indiana. Jumped in for a swim and then we watched lightning on the horizon before camping out under a giant maple tree and listening to the rain on the tent.

Three thousand miles into the tour, we are like cyborgs on bikes. With day-to-day routines nailed (except for my elusive rain jacket, which hides in the bottom of a pannier during storms) and legs forged from steely dragon’s teeth, we zip east. Most days, we don’t even break a sweat (<–dirty lie, even cyborgs sweat in 90% humidity).

At this point, we’re both starting to think about Maine, a far-distant mirage in our minds for the first 2/3 of the trip. The realization that we might actually complete the tour without our bodies breaking down feels great. But first, we finish out Indiana, head up toward Cleveland and then skirt along the southern edge of Lake Erie all the way to Niagara Falls before heading east into upstate New York. The magnitude of the effort to get this far sank in as the fall colors of New York beckoned from afar and the days cooled off, a welcome change.

A little metal barn in the middle of nowhere on a back country road in Indiana.

A little metal barn in the middle of nowhere on a back country road in Indiana. Sad news: C’s rainbow socks wore out by the end of the trip. 🙁

You’ll notice I’m goofier in this series. Believe me, all videos are off-the-cuff and I (obviously) don’t employ a joke writer. I think you’ll get a couple chuckles at our random antics as we roll from nowhere Indiana all the way into the NE. If nothing else, it’s a good picture of what the terrain looks like!

Here’s the movie link for email subscribers, or click play below on the embedded video if you visit the site directly. Enjoy.

Dakota

P.S. There are a few more photos below the movie if you want to check those out first.

Between the motorcycle rallies and car shows, we learned quite a bit about vehicles. (Not.)

Between all the motorcycle rallies and car shows we biked through, we learned quite a bit about vehicles. Ok, not really.

A family fishes off a bridge in Ohio.

The thing to do (apparently) in Grand Rapids, Ohio is to go fishing at sunset off a small dam in town.

Cold beans by the side of the road. Accessed with an old-school can opener, no less.

Cold beans by the side of the road (on a hot day at least). Accessed with an old-school can opener, no less.

Always fun to find covered bridges!

Always fun to find covered bridges! This one is in Roann, Indiana.

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

 

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.

Falling in Love with New York State

Descending a long hill on the way to Lake Placid.

Descending a long hill on the way to Lake Placid.

Ah, New York. What a great state. We absolutely will be back for more breathtaking outdoor fun. I suspect a month solely in the Adirondack Mountains would still feel fast and I’m positive we could spend an entire summer in the state no problemo.

Yesterday marked three months on the road and three weeks in the Empire State. I also realized we’ve spent half our cycling trip (46 days) in Montana and New York. Big states mixed with awesome scenery make for a wandering path and no hurry whatsoever. Our goal to slow down for our time in New England is panning out nicely!

A fallen leaf on the corner of an old, scratched dock.

A fallen leaf on the corner of an old, scratched dock.

Here are a few favorite shots from the last week pedaling through blazing red and orange trees with blue lakes twinkling in the fall sun. We’ve seen lots of day cyclists grinning away while ripping up and down the steep climbs. There are also huge numbers of canoes and kayaks on top of cars. I’d love to return to do some paddling or hit some mountain biking trails, which are apparently excellent. Then there’s hiking and running the Adirondack 46, all the peaks over 4,000’ that it seems everyone we talk to has on their bucket list.

Just a short post today before picture backlog sets in. Today is an exploring day in Burlington, Vermont after catching the ferry across Lake Champlain over from New York. The town has a great car-free walking area filled with smiling people, a gorgeous waterfront and bike path, mountain views and excellent food to boot. It feels like a sister city to Portland, Oregon. Next week we hit the coast and the end of our tour, which seems surreal at the moment. Barely 200 miles of pedaling remaining!

Happy Monday,

Dakota

Looking across the Atlantic with a view of Spain. Waiiiit a second, that's just Lake Champlain looking at Vermont.

Looking across the Atlantic with a view of Spain. Waiiiit a second, that’s just Lake Champlain looking at Vermont.

A kayaker on Blue Mountain Lake.

A kayaker on Blue Mountain Lake.

Chelsea crushes another hill with the fall colors cheering her on.

Chelsea crushes another hill with the fall colors cheering her on.

Fall colors reflected on a lake south of the town of Tupper Lake.

Fall colors reflected on a lake south of the town of Tupper Lake.

Two fisherman ply their skills in the early morning NE of Lake Placid.

Two fisherman ply their skills in the early morning NE of Lake Placid.

Fall colors peak through bare tree trunks.

Fall colors peak through bare tree trunks.

A nice view of Tupper Lake.

A nice view of Tupper Lake.

I made a friend! He doesn't talk much, but he is a great listener.

I made a friend! He doesn’t talk much, but he is a great listener.

Enjoying a lunch break on a lake.

Enjoying a lunch break on a lake.

Sunset looking across Lake Champlain after our ferry ride from New York to Vermont. As a new friend in NY joked, "what's the best thing about Vermont? The view of New York!"

Sunset looking across Lake Champlain after our ferry ride from New York to Vermont. As a new friend in NY joked, “what’s the best thing about Vermont? The view of New York!”

Seaplane View of Fall Colors in the Adirondacks

Lake and fall colors reflected.

Lake and fall colors reflected.

We hadn’t planned to spend the day boating and flying above lakes in the Adirondacks. It just worked out that way. Bike touring has a way of creating the unexpected though, and since we rarely book a place to stay, we’re always open for a random adventure. And of course those are always the most fun!

The day started out on schedule. Up early and on the road through Old Forge in upstate New York on a beautiful fall day. A quick stop to enjoy some hot tea at a coffee shop and we’d be on our way, though we lingered a few extra minutes in the sun watching the city wake up.

A few hundred feet over the lake.

A few hundred feet over the lake.

Then Peter, an interesting gentleman in a suit jacket, struck up a conversation. Which turned into lunch at his boathouse, a ride in his old restored boat and a flight in his 1946 Piper Cub seaplane. We then toured the area with him followed by drinks at the country club and dinner in town, followed by trading stories in front of a fire and a night’s stay at his “camp,” as they call cabins in New England. (This can range from a one-room shack to a 15-room palace.)

Little diversions like this are the stuff of memories, even if we only made it five miles that day. The biking is fun and the scenery is great, but deep connections and the bond that develops with someone in just 24 hours is what it’s all about.

Dakota

P.S. Here’s a little video I took from the plane. Below are more pictures as well!

Chelsea and Peter cruising on the lake.

Chelsea and Peter cruising on the lake.

No right side window. Oh boy!

No right side window. Oh boy!

View from the Piper Cub. The little metal stick with the bend is attached to a cork and acts as the gas gauge. Old-school!

View from the Piper Cub. The little metal stick with the bend is attached to a cork and acts as the gas gauge. Old-school!

Fall colors looking good from the sky!

Fall colors looking good from the sky!

First Lake, part of an eight-lake chain. We stayed out at the tip of this peninsula.

First Lake, part of an eight-lake chain. We stayed out at the tip of this peninsula.

Bicycling on the Mickelson Trail in South Dakota

Crushed limestone of the Mickelson.

Riding the crushed limestone gravel of the Mickelson Trail.

Wow, the last ten days have flown by! Go go go… We’re already practically across Iowa, even with a pause for a couple days to hang out with a high school friend in Omaha, Nebraska. I’ve had zero time to write for a variety of reasons, but before South Dakota is too far behind us, here are some photos from our time touring in the Black Hills.

After weeks of cycling, primarily with cars whizzing by, getting off pavement and away from vehicles (including the Sturgis Rally contingent) is as refreshing as a dip into a cold creek on a summer’s day. The Black Hills themselves, an eruption of peaks and tree-lined valleys in midst of the rolling northern plains, are beautiful and remind me of the forested regions of the Pacific Northwest. (I barely remember what a pine tree looks like these days. A corn stalk with spiky needles?)

The trail cuts through a number of cool old tunnels from the railroad days.

The trail cuts through a number of cool old tunnels from the railroad days.

Enter the George S. Mickelson Trail, 109 miles of packed limestone gravel through the heart of the Hills. It’s an old railroad bed from mining days that South Dakota turned into one of the nicest rails-to-trails I’ve seen. If you ever vist Rushmore, definitely get out on a bike (Rabbit Bicycles in Hill City rents them) and check out the trail! I won’t belabor details – these guys have the info.

Warning: If you start from Spearfish and ride up the canyon, it is a THIRTY mile climb to start out, with more elevation than climbing over Glacier. That said, it was beautiful and totally worth it. (We sure aren’t taking the flat and easy way across this country though.) Our route traced from north to south, with camping on Forest Service land one night and snagging a cozy cabin another. Can’t recommend it highly enough if you’re in the area! I’ll let the pictures do the rest of the talking…and here’s a video from the trail.

Tunnels of trees along the trail.

Tunnels of trees along the trail.

And with that, I bid you adieu. In one more day, we’ll cross out of Iowa into Illinois! Ticking off the miles and heading further east through the Midwest. The weather is hot and humid and life is good.

Onward!

Dakota

Chelsea watches a big herd of cows and their new offspring.

Chelsea watches a big herd of cows and their new offspring.

In some places, the trail is hewn through solid rock like this.

In some places, the trail is hewn through solid rock like this.

Lots of old bridges along the way!

Lots of old bridges along the way!

Chelsea cruises a calm section of road while I rampage on the Mickelson Trail.

Chelsea cruises a calm section of road while I rampage on the Mickelson Trail.

Chelsea approaches a gate on the trail.

Chelsea approaches a gate on the trail.

Cold water and a nice rest stop in Spearfish Canyon.

Cold water and a nice rest stop in Spearfish Canyon.

Coming out of the southern end of the trail as it flattens out and opens into plains.

Coming out of the southern end of the trail as it flattens out and opens into plains.

NOT on the trail... A side trip to the Crazy Horse monument, where they let you keep rocks from the project. I took six to weigh down my bike. Training weight!

Not on the trail… A side trip to the Crazy Horse monument, where they let you keep rocks from the project. I took six to weigh down my bike. Training weight!

One more of Mt. Rushmore. My friend Loren happened to be coming through the Black Hills while driving from San Francisco to Boston. So C and I jumped on board for a tour of the Rushmore area in a *gasp* CAR. Given all the motorcycles out that day, it was the right call! And super fun to hang with a friend along our trip.

Not on the trail… One more of Mt. Rushmore. My friend Loren happened to be coming through the Black Hills while driving from San Francisco to Boston. So C and I jumped on board for a tour of the Rushmore area in a *gasp* CAR. Given all the motorcycles out that day, it was the right call! And super fun to hang with a friend along our trip. Photo credit to awesome Kathy.

Faces from the Road: Mike from Nebraska

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!

Riding the Edge – Two Cyclists at a Motorcycle Rally

Hill City, SD is overrun by bikers, plus the lone cyclist.

Hill City, SD is overrun by bikers, plus the lone cyclist.

The ragged, messy edge of human interaction is my favorite. When people who might not cross paths do so, life gets interesting. Or perhaps annoying at the outset, then interesting. At the very least, it’s a fun story for later. A perfect example is the craziness surrounding the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota.

This is not the time I would choose to visit the Black Hills. Heck, many of the locals rent out their homes and hit the road for a vacation this time of year to escape the 500,000-strong deluge of bwap bwap bwap bikes raining down like hungry locusts from all directions. Some bikers even avoid the main rally, showing up the week before it starts to meet up with friends and then zooming off before “things get too crazy.” Coming from a brawny, tattooed badass riding a giant Harley, that’s saying something (her boyfriend looked tough too). We had no idea this onslaught was in our future when we diverted our planned route from North Dakota to its southern neighbor.

Not gonna lie: the Rally cramped our free-wheeling style a bit. For one, bikers (we are now cyclists, they get the b-word) like to ride the same back roads that we do. What usually would be a silent cruise up twisty Spearfish Canyon, gateway to the Black Hills, was instead a cacophony of echoing tailpipes blasting off the canyon walls. Locals told us the deep thrum of Harley engines literally never stops for two weeks around the Rally. Throw in the fact that all the campgrounds and hotels are booked up, with rates 2x+ higher than usual, and it’s a serious pain in the ass to be an unsuspecting visitor at this time.

And yet… I love the counterpoint the Rally gave to our cozy bubble of happy cycling routine. Someone wise said growth happens when you hit your edge and get out of your comfort zone. That seems accurate when we roll up in full spandex to a saloon with 15 burly bikers lounging on the sagging front porch drinking Bud Lite. I’m still waiting to get a beer can and derogatory language hurled my way, but instead there’s a camaraderie between two-wheeled riders. I’m like the next Hunter S. Thompson, infiltrating the ranks of the Hells Angels while clad in Lycra, minus the quaaludes and heavy drinking. (Ok, so I’m not even close.)

I can only call this shot "Mt. Rushmore and Bikers."

I can only call this shot “Mt. Rushmore and Bikers.”

Living on the edge of our comfort zone reaffirms that this world is populated with all types. On a bicycle, there’s no windshield between us and the world – we’re exposed to the weather and any loony that wants to talk to us. (And vice versa!) Still, there is an inherent respect we gain since we’re doing something challenging. The dozens of bikers told us to “be safe out there” and “wow, I could never do that!” mixed in with “you should put an engine on that thing” or “Wanna race?” To the latter, I responded “Nah, I don’t want to humiliate you.” Boom…not a punch to my face, just a big laugh from the guy. I also enjoyed fist-punching the air with a “WOOOOO” going by groups of parked bikers. Always good for shouts in response and revving engines. Ah, the simple yet fun things in life.

While it’s motorcyclists in this example, it could be truck drivers, ardent NASCAR fans, a conservative retired stockbroker from Florida or anything in between. It’s all context, a framework to reinforce or test our values and keep things interesting. BSing with people along our route is one of my favorite pastimes and I always learn something about what makes us tick as humans. This fun little expedition into the Black Hills was no different…but there’s still no way I’m parking my bicycle to ride a Harley.

Ride on,

Dakota

My own Harley phalanx. This group of outwardly hardcore bikers cracked up when I pulled up next to them and yelled "Where are we going?" Chelsea even got them to wave at the camera.

My own Harley phalanx. This group cracked up when I pulled up next to them and yelled “Where are we going?”

Out of the Mountains and Into the Plains

Chelsea climbs a long hill in the plains somewhere near the Lewis and Clark trail.

Chelsea climbs a long hill in the plains somewhere near the Lewis and Clark trail.

Montana is officially giant. Especially if you ride across it like a drunken sailor rollicking on a ship’s deck. Instead of a straight shot across and 500 miles, it took us 25 days and 1,080 miles of pedaling from the time we hit the border in the SW corner and then up into Canada before cutting SE (check map below). We’re averaging 51 miles/day with six days resting or exploring towns along the way, right where we want to be. And now that we’ve crossed into Nebraska, we’ve officially hit the plains! Verdict still out on how interesting they are… I’ll say this: We in the northwest are very spoiled with our gorgeous landscapes and green scenery.

ID-MT-Canada-MT-SD-NE. Vroooom!

ID-WA-ID-MT-Canada-MT-SD-NE. Vroooom! 38 days on the road so far.

With that many miles, we covered a vast amount of terrain in Montucky (as my friend Margi lovingly calls it). Rivers cutting through forested valleys were gobbled up by the magnificent Rocky Mountains of Glacier and Waterton Parks, which then turned into rolling hills of wheat fields as we hit north-central Montana coming out of Canada. Heading south, we crossed through deep river valleys at the headwaters of the the Missouri River, spinning past the same route Lewis and Clark trudged and floated through 150+ years ago. Pointing our wheels east, we hit long climbs and dry landscapes seared by wind that tossed us about like two plastic bags in a parking lot. A few days of 80+ miles through the middle of nowhere, marked only by the occasional unoccupied rural post office with peeling paint, and we finally hit South Dakota, our fifth state of the tour. From there, we climbed up to 6,500′ elevation into the Black Hills while hanging with motorcyclists heading to the Sturgis Rally while making our way into (as it says on the sign) “Nebraska: The Good Life.”

A sample a rest stop in a "town" in the middle of nowhere: flaky paint on a post office (closed) in the midst of an 80 mile ride.

A sample rest stop in a “town” in the middle of nowhere: flaky paint on a post office (closed) in the midst of an 80 mile ride.

It is hard to believe it has already been more than 30 days on the bikes. Time slows down out here, that’s for sure. In a good way, and sometimes in a is-this-FrakkZore-of-a-hellhole-hill-ever-going-to-end kinda way. Headwinds, especially uphill into them, are officially more difficult than mountain passes and I’d trade gusts in the face for a giant climb over Glacier any day. Emotionally weak and scrambling to rationalize things, I remind myself that I chose to be here while taking zero comfort in the fact that everyone we meet tells us, “Wow, these winds are rare. They almost always blow to the east.” What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but I’ve had a couple screaming outbursts at the wind, yelling obscenities into their uncaring Maw of Cyclist Hate. Bike touring is a moving meditation with occasional reminders that I’m so very human. Back to my breath, pedal pedal pedal. Praise the cycling gods for podcasts and audiobooks because too much time alone in my head out here and I’d be chewing bar tape off my handlebars like a psychotic rat.

Meth: You've been warned! Lots of scary signs and murals like this were found in small towns along the way.

Meth: You’ve been warned! Lots of scary signs and murals like this were found in small towns along the way. One motel employee told us she had moved from another town because her son’s friends were starting to deal meth…because their parents hooked them up to avoid getting busted themselves. WHAT?!

What to say about a month+ of touring? In July, we spent almost 120 hours pedaling, by far the most I’ve spent on a bike in a month. Not a full time job, but close enough at anywhere from 5-8 hours/day cranking away to deserve benefits or at least a support vehicle with a water cooler (any volunteers?). As my muscles steel themselves to cycling, I’m finding that I’m more mentally tired than physically exhausted at the end of a day, though Chelsea might vote differently. It is exhausting, and slow going compared to the full expanse we will eventually cover, but the reality is that we’re within 45-60 days of hitting the east coast, which is pretty crazy to think about. Day by day, we pedal and chip away at our goal.

Mailbox ornamentation and Chelsea receding into the plains behind on her steed.

Mailbox ornamentation and Chelsea receding into the plains behind on her steed.

A landmark in central Montana, Square Butte, next to a town of the same name.

A landmark in central Montana, Square Butte, next to a town of the same name where a surly waitress made us amazing salads.

Of course I must mention the characters and cool people from all over the states that we meet at every rest stop and restaurant. We loved a dinner with a nice couple (hi Jim and Shawn!) in “pre-tirement.” They quit their jobs to cycle west on a tandem on a trip Shawn was first inspired to do 40 years earlier in 1976 when she heard of the Trans-America Bi-Centennial ride. We met a cheery and fun Swiss woman named Regi dressed for tennis riding from NYC to San Francisco. Beyond that, countless people approach at various stops to chat about our trip and offer their blessings for safe travel. We also loved a stay with two young, forward-thinking farmers (hi Casey and Kelsey!) who we stayed with for a couple days, playing around and pretending we were helping out while I pretty much just got in the way I’m sure. I rode in the combine and jumped some hay bales…it almost felt like work! Man oh man do farmers work hard – makes me appreciate, once again, where our food comes from. And a special shout out to the Warm Showers hosts that we’ve stayed with – thanks mucho Alan Da Man and John+Rebecca.

Our hosts on a farm near Ft. Benton (headwaters of the Missouri River), Casey and his dad Bob, hanging out on the combine. We had a fantastic two days exploring their big wheat and cattle operation with them.

Our hosts on a farm near Ft. Benton (headwaters of the Missouri River), Casey and his dad Bob, hanging out on the combine. We had a fantastic two days exploring their big wheat and cattle operation.

Montana: Big Sky Country.

Montana: Big Sky Country.

I think the biggest takeaway so far is that our bodies and minds are powerful machines when given the opportunity to shine. Both are working hard these days while stepping up to the plate to crank some home runs. (Except when I’m swearing at the wind. That’s more like a mental ground-out to the shortstop.) We’ve come a fair piece, yet it is slightly daunting to think how far we still have to go, about 2,500 miles more to Maine after 1,400 traversed in total so far. I know we can do it, though I’ve come to realize this is no small undertaking. Perhaps I was a bit flippant up front, but I’m gaining more respect for how difficult this trip is and just how long it takes. A quarter of a year, third of a pregnancy or an entire summer is a big commitment to one adventure!

The toughest thing as of late is no downtime. We get up, pack up our paltry few possessions and ride. Get to our destination, unpack, shower (hopefully), find food to eat for that night and the next day. Sleep like the dead (unless surrounded by idling semis), though with muscles that hurt more than a mummy’s. Repeat, ad nauseum. Whew! It was easier with breathtaking scenery. Rolling fields are a bit less inspiring, and the aforementioned winds tax both body and mind like a fat anchor clanging along tied to our bikes.

Still, we are having fun and carrying on with lots of laughs with people we meet and one another! Any journey has its headwinds and I feel truly lucky to have created the space to spend with Chelsea to test our will together while exploring this great country. We’re spending tons of quality time together, as well as plenty apart in headphone-land to keep sane. I feel closer to my wife than I have in years as we pedal together each day with only one another (and Danielle Steele bodice-rippers for me) for support. It’s a powerful bonding experience, one I know we will both draw on in the future as a source of strength in the face of something “difficult” that is really just something we don’t want to do. “Remember that impossibly tough day biking from Broadus to Alzada?” we can ask ourselves, and just smile because we NEVER have to do that ride again.

A "cozy" camp site in Alzada, MT near B&J's convenience store. At least they had showers inside, though the crazy wind and trucks nearby weren't the best sleeping companions.

A “cozy” camp site in Alzada, MT near B&J’s convenience store. At least they had showers inside, though the crazy wind and trucks nearby weren’t the best sleeping companions.

Our first day in the plains coming out of Canada into the U.S. This shot was taken before 6 am as the sun was cresting behind us, casting light on the fields and our last real view of the Rockies.

Our first day in the plains coming out of Canada into the U.S. This shot was taken as the sun was cresting behind us, casting light on the fields and our last real view of the Rockies.

We are now heading east on Nebraska’s Highway 20 through the Sand Hills, just below South Dakota. A weathered bike tourist in middle-of-nowhere Montana whom we ran into said said 1) “Hooray! I haven’t seen another cyclist in a month!” and 2) the Sand Hills of Nebraska are awesome compared to eastern South Dakota. And so here we are, in the state from which Chelsea’s grandparents hail and where Warren Buffet lives in the house he bought for $31,500 decades ago.

Be it headwinds, monotony or thunderstorms (we’ve out-sprinted one already), onward through the plains!

Dakota

Glowing embers of a smoky sunset with wheat in the foreground. (Ft. Benton)

Glowing embers of a smoky sunset with wheat in the foreground. (Ft. Benton)

A weather-beaten fence in the middle of nowhere Montana, wheat fields and sky stretching for miles.

A weather-beaten fence in the middle of nowhere Montana, wheat fields and sky stretching for miles.

Animals!

Two buddies on a farm.

Two buddies on a farm.

Baby owl chicks fluffed up and hanging out on a chimney in Waterton, Alberta.

Baby owlets fluffed up and hanging out on a chimney in Waterton, Alberta.

A mother owl hangs with her three owlets (<--technical term). She was training them how to hunt.

A mother owl hangs with her wee three.

A (very calm) deer in Alberta lounging in the grass.

A (very calm) deer in Alberta lounging in the grass.

Skipping rocks in Waterton, Alberta at sunset.

And one more: skipping rocks in Waterton, Alberta at sunset.

Surrender: A Day in the Life of a Cycle Tourist

Our view for the last couple weeks: hay fields and open roads.

Near the headwaters of the Missouri River, Chelsea cruises through our view for the last couple weeks: hay fields and open roads. Hazy from Washington fires and hot as a firecracker in July.

The day’s intensity ratcheted higher like a rising guillotine blade. 99 degrees. 25 mph headwinds with gusts. Nothing except barb wire fences whistling in the wind for 80 miles in front of us. The “town” we’d just passed through, Mosby, consisted of two houses, one abandoned with a roof caving in. A rippling series of long rollercoaster hills spelled our doom in thousands of feet of elevation to climb that day. And there we were, two specks on the ocean of the plains, beat down and buffeted, with nary even a cell phone signal to be found to even complain on Facebook. Good thing I have a blog and can do it later!

Sometimes, the warrior’s path is to push on, head down into the morass, battling our way to victory. We all are stronger than we think, both mentally and physically, and I am certainly in the Stoic’s camp believing that suffering makes you stronger and better equipped to handle future adversity. I find that small challenges and tests will often make life’s tougher obstacles seem easier in comparison, and am occasionally circumspect enough to cherish the pain afterward.

Cranking into the wind in the Montana plains.

Dakota cranking into the wind in the Montana plains.

This, however, was not one of those days! While we wake up with tired bodies every morning, on this day our legs hung like lead pendulums churning away in a thick soup of blasting hot air. We’d pushed through 60 mile scorchers before, yet this total feeling of exhaustion was like a crashing wave trying to drown us.

Only 25 miles in, with 50 to go, we found a rest stop in a fancy new building in the least populated area of Montana. Why they put it there, I have no idea. The cold, filtered water (most water in the plains tastes like warm dog farts) and hard slat benches to relax upon in the air conditioned space made it feel like Cleopatra’s palace. I sat and relished the cold air and took on the unofficial and unpaid Greeter of Road Trippers for awhile, chatting with each new arrival. “Heyyyy, where ya headed? Seen any stores to the east of here? No?”

The motorcyclists have been awesome! Super friendly and always interested in talking to us. Or giving me a fist bump on the highway. Good thing - the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota attracts 500,000 visitors and is starting while we're here!

The motorcyclists have been awesome! Super friendly and always interested in talking to us. Or giving me a fist bump on the highway. Good thing – the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota attracts 500,000 visitors and is starting while we’re here!

After much deliberation, we listened to our tired bodies and scoped out a spot under a picnic structure in the far corner of the parking lot. Baked brown earth lay on the other side of a sagging fence and semi trucks pulled in and out every so often, but we chugged frosty water, threw down a tent footprint and sleeping pads and lay on them with sticky backs. All our technology came up blank looking for a signal, and that was ok. Our Truckstop Hilton provided shade, solace and relief from blasting winds and it felt good.

Home sweet home at our rest stop.

Home sweet home at our Truckstop Hilton.

We’d done enough pushing through adversity for the day – there will be plenty more of that to come in future days. For now, a concrete pad and picnic table in the middle of nowhere Montana felt like a warm hug from Grandma. We reclined, napping and reading, for the afternoon, then justified carrying our emergency backpacking meal by gobbling it up for dinner. Dessert was a 180 degree lightning show crackling in the distance, the rumble of semis thundering behind us. (Why do trucks leave their engines running nonstop?!)

Next day, after absolutely terrible sleep thanks to constant semi traffic, we rose early and vanquished the remaining 50 miles on another 100 degree day with fresh(er) legs. It was a good reminder that while usually we press through biking and life doing things even when it’s tough, a day like this needn’t be misconstrued as weakness. Instead, it takes a different strength to accept our lot and deal with struggles one day at a time in a way that builds cumulative success. And, for us at least, that’s what it takes to ride through barren countryside all the way across this giant country!

A vivid sunset on the plains.

A vivid sunset on the plains.

Middle of nowhere on the plains.

Middle of nowhere on the plains. Click for full view.

FarmFit > CrossFit

Using the quad power from cycling to help out on a farm during a rest day near Ft. Benton, Montana.

A quick cross-training hay bale workout on a hazy rest day in central Montana. We stayed near the headwaters of the Missouri at a friend’s farm. Photo credit Chelsea the Rockstar.