6 January 2017
Our decision to leave Medellín was very last minute, based on the fact that Lenin’s brother, Seled, was driving to get his family in La Paz, Santander, and he had just enough space in his car for me, Lenin, Churro, and our bikes. We folded down a back seat in his hatchback and stuffed in our bicycles, along with the trailer and all of our belongings, and joined Seled for the 8-9 hour drive. Within the first two hours we discovered that Churro gets car sick. While sitting on Lenin’s lap in the front passenger seat, he started to vomit. There wasn’t quite enough time to pull over, so he puked out the window, plastering the side of the car with half-digested dog food.
Churro despises his first ride in the trailer.
It was very late when we arrived in La Paz, so we stayed in a hotel that night. The next morning, we took Churro on a test ride in the trailer from the town to one of Seled’s in-law’s houses, about 10 kilometers away. He hated it, and we had to zip the screen on to keep him from jumping out.
Lenin lies on the edge of this gaping hole, staring down into the abyss.
From the house, we got into the back of a pickup truck with Seled and his family and rode up to a giant hole in the ground, about 80 meters in diameter and 300 meters deep. Instead of riding back with the rest of the family, Lenin and I took Churro on a hike from the hole to where we were supposed to find a clear blue swimming hole. After a nice long hike in the wrong direction and back, we eventually made it to a river with a waterfall, but it got too difficult to walk along the river, and it was growing dark, so we turned back before we made it to the swimming hole. It was a long walk back into town, and we took turns carrying Churro the last few kilometers. Hopefully, he would still be worn out enough to relax in his trailer the next day.
Churro and me, towards the end of our hike out to the swimming hole that we never found
24 December 2016
Lenin woke me up abruptly with an urgent request that we pack up everything and be ready to get on a bus in 30 minutes. The bus would drive by the road that was a 10 minute walk from the house, and we could get down to town that way instead of trying to ride our bikes down the horrible rocky road. Our bikes were another 10 minute walk or so down the mountain at someone else’s house, where we left them the night we arrived. All of our stuff was everywhere, including hidden away in the wardrobe by Luis’s wife, who had cleaned the house while we were away the day before. I didn’t want to argue, so I just started packing and got ready. I looked at my phone, and it was just past 7am.
This is before the chiva got a little crowded!
The two kids helped us carry our bags to the road, where several other people were standing at an abandoned house, waiting for the bus. Luis had left earlier to get our bikes and load them on the bus before it reached us. We waited for about an hour before anything showed up. It wasn’t just a bus, but a chiva – a traditional mode of transportation that comes by only on Saturday and Sunday mornings to take the farmers into town. We piled our stuff and ourselves onto the top, along with the other people and their various belongings.
On top of the chiva was a bench in the front, already full of people. The rest of the roof was flat with rails along the edge so the variety of things on top wouldn’t slide off. These things included huge burlap sacks of maybe beans or coffee, crates of empty beer bottles, empty gas/propane cylinders, bunches of plantains, a ladder, a weed whacker, our two bicycles, and a few other people who were brave enough to sit on top of the whole thing. I took a seat near the front on a sack of beans or something, and lenin sat on one of the gas cylinders.
From where I sat on the left side, so high up, I felt like I could easily fall out and over the cliff into the steep valley below. The road was too narrow to see on the sides of the chiva below us, and I felt it sway from side to side as it struggled over the rocky terrain. We continued up and over the mountain to pick up more people before heading down into town. At one point the chiva couldn’t make it around a tight turn on the steep climb, and it had to back up several times to get it right. This was the most terrifying part, and I had to have a lot of faith in the driver and whoever was guiding him, as all I could see was my side of the chiva getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff each time it backed up to try again. I breathed a sigh of relief when we finally made it around the curve, but we still had a long way to go and had to stay alert to duck under the tree branches and cables. One benefit of being so high up and close to the trees, aside from the terrific view, was that we were able to pluck fruit from the branches as we passed underneath. Along the road were mandarin, orange, lemon, guava, avocado and guama trees. I had never tried guama before – a large pod containing black seeds surrounded by an edible, sweet white flesh. I also never realized that all guavas are full of parasitic worms, and people eat them like that without even thinking about it! Maybe that’s why they only sell the juice in the US.
The only thing this chiva was missing was the music. Lenin told me that chiva rides can be very long, and normally the passengers, mostly farmers, will take their instruments and play music, drink beer, and party during the ride. When Lenin was a boy in Uramita, people would sometimes take a chiva to Medellin, a 10-hour or more drive on unpaved roads. Sometimes there would be a landslide on the road, and they would be delayed for a few days, so everyone brought tons of food to cook along the way. Nowadays in Colombia’s more touristy cities, chivas are purely used for entertainment. They can be rented out for parties, and people just drink and dance inside while the bus slowly rolls through the city.
Unloading the Chiva in San Carlos
When we finally rolled into town, we still had to fix a flat tire before heading out of San Carlos. We only made it a few miles outside of San Carlos before Lenin got another flat tire! At least this road was mostly paved. The flat happened when the paved section turned into dirt for a few feet. My exhaustion was catching up with me, and after 30 miles or so of rolling hills, I wasn’t really feeling like pushing myself that hard. We stopped for a few coconut popsicles at a roadside shop, and when Lenin got another flat tire about a mile down from there, we decided to wait for a bus. While waiting, we saw some wild titi monkeys cross the road just a few meters ahead of us before climbing high into the trees. Instead of hopping on a bus, we were able to hitch a ride from a guy driving a small, empty truck. We loaded into the back and enjoyed the free ride into San Rafael. From there, we had about an hour to wait for a bus back to Medellin so we could come back for Christmas Eve.
23 December 2016
Lenin runs along the trail, with a beautiful backdrop of a waterfall on the distant mountain
Originally, we were going to bike back to Guatape after one night in Puerto Rico, but it was so beautiful and so difficult to get to that we decided to stay another day. We rose early to run to San Carlos, about five miles away. Before leaving, Lenin got instructions from Luis, the father of the family caring for Paola’s house, for how to get there via trails instead of taking the steep and rocky road that we had driven up the previous night. We started off on muddy trails through cow pastures, following the heavy footsteps of the cows. Sadly, much of the land has been stripped of its natural vegetation and replaced with grass, lowering the tolerance of the land for rainwater. The saturated land doesn’t have enough trees or other plants to soak up the water, so it ends of being muddy and slippery, also creating landslide hazards. Fortunately, we soon entered a more untouched section of jungle where the trails were dryer, and we gained more traction.
We came across someone’s house here in the middle of the mountains, surrounded by pineapples growing on the hillside.
According to Luis’s directions, we were to cross under the powerlines and bear right on the trails when we came to a big tree. Then we would come to a house with an old lady and about 20 dogs. I’m not sure what we were supposed to do when we got there, but we did eventually come to this house with numerous dogs. At that point, we encountered two people on horseback who were also going to San Carlos. They led us back on the right track, and we chased the horses as fast as we could until they got too far ahead. This trail led us to a river where we crossed an old, narrow bridge that was suspended over the river. From there, we had to ask a farmer for directions again, since we somehow ended up in his backyard. The trail finally emerged into the outskirts of San Carlos, and we walked into the center of town for lunch.
Here is the narrow bridge we had to cross shortly before emerging into the town of San Carlos
After lunch, we decided to climb up to la Piedra del Tabor – another giant stone like the one in Guatape, but with no stairs and even higher of a climb. As we walked back out of town, we passed a dog who was lying in the sun. He got up, and we invited him to follow us. There are hundreds of stray dogs in every town, and it’s so hard to ignore them. This one was very friendly, cleaner-looking than most, and looked to be about 2 years old. He was maybe a cross between a yellow lab and pit bull. Lenin asked several people in town how to get to the stone, and once we were on the road out of town, he asked one more farmer about which trail to take. At this last junction, before traversing the farm and entering the narrow, steep trail, Lenin comments, “funny, they all say the same thing, to be careful of the tigers”. You can imagine how I felt for the rest of the hike up to the stone.
We rose above the clouds while hiking up to the large stone. My face is uneasy because of the snake I just saw…
At one point, we stopped to bathe in a waterfall and refill our water bottles with fresh spring water. When we finally reached the stone, it was already growing dark on the shaded trail. The toughest part of the climb began near the base of the stone, and we continued up the even steeper, more slippery trail. We emerged from the woods and had yet more rocks to climb. The dog almost couldn’t make it up one of these rocky sections, and he stood whimpering until we encouraged him enough to jump for it. Just past this point, Lenin saw a poisonous snake. We couldn’t go much higher than this because the rock was too slippery and there was no easy way to climb, as it was nearly vertical. It was still sunny up on the rock, but we needed to move quickly to get out of the woods before it became impossible to see. For the entire hike back down, I was scared of both tigers and snakes while I tried not to slip on the muddy trail. Going down is always harder for me than climbing up, but I think I went faster than usual this time.
We really loved this dog, and we considered adopting him.
Once we were in the clear again, we shared our leftover lunch with the dog. Back in town, he got distracted and wandered away to say hi to some other people, and we never saw him again. That night we agreed that if we saw the dog the next morning we would take him with us to Medellin. To get back to the house in Puerto Rico, a moto-taxi cost a minimum of $30,000 pesos ($10). We debated staying in a hotel in town that night instead, since it was cheaper than getting a ride back, but then Lenin found a guy on a motorcycle who was willing to take us there for only $20,000 pesos. We needed two motorcycles though, so he had to find someone else willing to go for $10,000. He came back a few minutes later with another guy on a motorcycle, and we each got on the back of one. The ride was insanely bumpy, but I felt much better on the motorcycle than I had the night before in the pick-up truck.
The things people do in this country on a daily basis is astounding, and commutes like these are probably most bewildering to me. For example, Lenin and I met some farmers selling honey in San Rafael who walk 2 hours each way every day from their bee farms to sell their honey. They don’t just walk on flat roads – they walk over mountains on gnarly trails that are sometimes washed out by landslides or covered in deep mud. The people we met on horses while trail running earlier were probably just going on a routine trip into the town for groceries or something. The next day we would experience yet another mode of transportation to get us out of Puerto Rico for the final time.
22 December 2016
When we went to Guatape, we packed everything, including our bicycles, just in case we didn’t come back to Medellin. When your only plans are to “go with the flow” you never know where you may end up. We ended up staying on Edwin’s house boat in Guatape for three days because I was too sick to go anywhere.
When we finally left Guatape, it was to bike to Lenin’s friend Paola’s finca in the mountains just outside of the town of San Carlos. We would bike there via San Rafael and then bike back the next day to catch a ride with Edwin back to Medellin for Christmas. Paola wasn’t able to go to the finca because she was pregnant. I didn’t understand why this was a problem until we got closer. We were traveling very light, and I felt less prepared than I ever have before started a bike tour, but I figured we would be fine.
Heading out from the colorful pueblo of Guatape
The first 20 miles to San Rafael went by in a flash. The road was smooth, predominantly downhill, and the weather was perfect. We coasted all the way down to San Rafael from Guatape in about an hour. The total distance for the day, according to Google maps, was only just over 30 miles. We were thinking of having lunch in San Rafael, but it was still early, so we just stopped for a snack at a bakery and decided to keep going. Before leaving, someone asked us where we were going. When Lenin answered, “San Carlos”, the man seemed surprised and told us that it was 60 kilometers. That didn’t seem right, so Lenin asked a policeman to confirm the distance. He told us it was 42 km. Double-checking our map, we still saw a way that was only 13 miles. When asking around town about this route, everyone answered that it was impossible to go by bicycle, and that it would take much longer, even though it was half the distance. We decided we were up for the adventure, so continued to follow our map in spite of all the warnings.
The road from San Rafael, long before it got too gnarly
Almost immediately upon leaving town, the pavement disappeared and the road started to ascend up a mountain. We then encountered two police officers on motorcycles who told us yet again that the road would be impassable on our bikes. We kept going. The next stretch of road was so muddy that our pedals would hit the mud when riding in the ruts left by previous, much heavier vehicles, but we still managed to muscle through the deep mud. Eventually the road grew steeper, and the mud was replaced by loose gravel and jagged stones. When it started to rain, Lenin and I took a break. Lenin had just been explaining to me that we should talk to people we pass because they might invite us in for a coffee and then we can wait out the rain. I didn’t have any expectations of seeing people who would welcome us inside on this lonely road, but sure enough, when it started raining there was a house on the side of the road with a woman who invited us to come under the roof to stay dry. While we were there, she made us coffee from beans that she grew herself.
This road was rocky, but it gets worse…
At this point, Lenin decided to put more air in his tires, since he had let some out in between Guatape and San Rafael in fear of the tire exploding with the rising temperatures earlier in the day. Now we were on a rocky road and needed as much air as our tires would permit. Before leaving the woman’s house, he noticed that his tire had gone completely flat. We quickly replaced the tube, as the old one now had a hole near the valve stem, and got back on the road. However, less than a mile up the road, Lenin got another flat. Of course we hadn’t brought a patch kit or tire levers, so Lenin used his toothbrush to pry the tire off the rim. Since we had already used the spare tube, I decided to try tying a knot in the tube around the hole, since I had seen my friend Amanda do this once while mountain biking with some success. It actually worked quite well, until Lenin got yet another flat tire while testing it out. Then it started raining again. Since we couldn’t tie another knot in the tube, we resorted to using the extra tube for my bike, which was about a centimeter wider. This lasted only another mile or so before he flatted again. This time the air was leaking out slowly enough that Lenin could pump it up and ride a few hundred yards on it before having to stop and pump it up again. He quickly tired of this though, as the tire began losing air more rapidly with each repitition.
View from the top of the mountain before walking down in the dark
We had just made it to the high point of the road, but we still had about 5 miles to descend on that road before going up again to where Paola’s finca was. The sun was just about to set, and we had barely gone 7 miles from San Raphael. We started walking down the mountain as it grew darker by the minute. To make matters worse, the seatpost bag I was using to carry half of my stuff broke, and I had to carry it on my shoulder. We walked on until it was pitch black before turning on our headlights, which only illuminated the thick fog and the occasional frog hopping across our path.
At the bottom of the road, we came to the junction of Vallejuelo, where two people were sitting outside of a house. One of these people had a truck, and he offered to drive us the rest of the way to Paola’s finca. Paola had also phoned someone to help us get there, but he only had a moto. This guy showed up to the house where we were and joined to show us the way. We piled all of our belongings into the back of the pickup truck and climbed in for the ride. I was astounded by the condition of the road, and I felt guilty for the guy who was taking his truck over such damaging terrain on our behalf, but he didn’t seem to mind. The rocks were huge, potholes even bigger, and we were going up a pretty steep hill the entire way. In the darkness, it felt more gnarly than my rockiest mountain bike ride. We stopped at a small tienda where we could keep our bikes safe on the way up, and then continued on up until we got to a fence. Paola’s friend got out and opened the gate for us, and the truck turned to drive through a muddy field to another gate. Beyond this gate was the house. I was skeptical that the truck would make it back up and out of the mud, but we didn’t stick around to watch them leave.
I haven’t published here in months, mostly because I haven’t found the courage to write about this publicly, but I have still been writing, and I’ve definitely still been experiencing new adventures. If you’ve been following on Instagram or Facebook then you’ve probably already seen what I’m up to. I’ve been wanting to start publishing the stories from my current travels, but first I need to introduce my new partner! So here goes…
Shortly after Dallas and I parted ways for the last time, I ended up going on the weekly SiCleada bike ride in Medellín. I was incredibly sad and exhausted, and I almost didn’t go on this ride. My bike was at a friend’s apartment on the other side of the city from where I was renting a room, and it was getting dark. I started walking to fetch my bike, but turned back due to feeling negative vibes around me. When I came back to the house, one of the other guys renting a room actually offered me to borrow his bike! I couldn’t not go after this. The bike was a little out of tune, clunky, and plegable (a folding bike). The ride that week was long and challenging, going up into the mountains surrounding the city. I left the house late and had to pedal as hard as I could to make it to the ride before they took off.
Not long into the ride, I became aware of two people riding on steel touring bikes and speaking English. I gravitated towards these people, since I hadn’t been able to find any touring bicycles like this in Colombia – and I had visited many bikes shops in both Bogota and Medellín, the two largest cities in the country. I wasn’t feeling socially confident enough to initiate conversation, so I just sort of maintained a close distance to these cyclists, unaware that they were accompanied by their WarmShowers host, a Colombian native riding a heavy, rusty hybrid bicycle with a basket in the front.
This Colombian guy started talking me, asking if I realized that the ride was going to be difficult, clearly doubting the folding bike’s capabilities of crescing the upcoming steep hills. Caught off-guard, and only really understanding that he was asking about my bicycle, I started explaining that the bicycle was not mine, and I had borrowed it from a friend. He switched to speaking in English, and explained again that the ride was going to be really challenging tonight. I told him again that the bicycle was not mine, so I wasn’t sure how it would perfom on the hills, but we’ll just see when we get there.
He introduced himself as Lenin, and I learned that he had recently returned from a totally unplanned bike tour from Medellin to Los Angeles, USA. And he had done it on the bicycle he was currently riding! He was wearing a shirt sponsored by Couchsurfing Medellín that had his name on it and something in Spanish about cycling around the world. I was intrigued and continued to talk with him for the rest of the ride.
When we got to the mountainous part of the ride, I just kept pedaling steadily, arriving at the top with plenty of time to wait for the rest of the group, which included over 1000 other cyclists. I actually was the first female to make it up the hill, with the second one being another traveler from Germany who was renting a room in Lenin’s house and had borrowed one of his old, barely functioning bicycles.
This is the group I ended up riding with during the SiCLeada on the night I met Lenin.
At the midway point, Lenin introduced me to the two Germans and Canadian who were all staying at his house. One of the Germans and the Canadian were the guys whose bikes I had been eyeing, and they were in the middle of a grand tour from Canada to Patagonia. Lenin invited me to join the three of them the next morning on a bike ride to Guatape, a touristy town about a 2-hour bus ride from Medellin. It was late already, and I hate not getting enough sleep, so I was reluctant to commit, but I agreed that I would contact him about it the next morning to let him know if I could make it. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the two bike toursists staying with Lenin had expressed dismay that he had invited me, complaining that they would now have to go slow to wait for the girl, and that it would take all day to get there.
Despite my sadness from parting with Dallas, I had had more fun that night than I had had in a long time. In the morning, I woke up feeling exhausted, and my bike was still on the other side of town. I didn’t want to ride all the way to Guatape on a borrowed foldable bike. I sent a message to Lenin, telling him that I didn’t think I would be able to make it in time. He assured me that they weren’t ready yet and that I could borrow one of his bikes for the trip. He actually lived relatively close to where my bike was, so I decided to go fetch my bike from my friend’s apartment before meeting the three bike travelers for breakfast.
It was at least an hour or two after the time Lenin had told me they were leaving when I arrived at his house, but they were still not ready to go. We all walked across the street to eat breakfast, and then departed for Guatape. The first 20 kilometers out of the city were up a mountain, and I had an advantage on my road bike with just a backpack. The German and Canadian had fully loaded touring bikes with panniers, although greatly dimished because they left half of their belongings at Lenin’s house, they were still much heavier than my rig. Lenin had his heavy, rusty hybrid bike, loaded with tools in the front basket and a backpack strapped onto the rear rack. His rear tire was so worn out, that the center strip of rubber was red, revealing the layer underneath. Contrary to their fears that I would slow them all down, I was able to move much faster, staying ahead of the group for the duration of the ride, pausing to let them catch up every few miles.
Taking a break on the side of the road to Guatape
Upon arriving in Guatape, Lenin helped secure a place to sleep in an athletic complex. One of the ladies who worked there offered to let me sleep at her house, so I left the boys to sleep on the floor with the roaches and spiders and hopped on the back of her motorcycle to go to her house. Guatape is one of the most colorful towns I have visited anywhere in the world, and every house has vibrant bas relief pictures along the bottom edge, depicting something of significance to the family that lives there. This lady’s house had pictures of kayaks, because her daughters were all competitive rowers, two of whom competed in the Olympics.
The next morning, after sharing a breakfast with my generous host, I met up with the three guys to ride back to Medellín. Lenin threw a party later that night, which I almost didn’t attend out of exhaustion. However, I realized that this adventure was more than a great distraction from the lost, empty feelings I was experiencing prior to meeting these people. I decided to allow myself to have fun, make new friends, experience new adventures and feel free to enjoy myself.
Lenin and me sailing in Narragansett Bay
That one bike ride in Medellín, followed by the ride to Guatape and back, laid the foundation for a new partnership between myself and Lenin. We both share a dream to travel the world, and the bicycle has been the perfect mode of transportation for us. It hasn’t been easy for me to let go of Dallas as my partner and best friend, and I still think of him fondly, but now that I am traveling again and have more stories to write, I introduce to you Lenin Cardona as my new partner.
Four years ago, I embarked on a journey that permanently changed the course of my life. The journey started as a desire to do something out of the ordinary and as a resistance to the status quo. This journey has taken me throughout the US, from Alaska to Florida. It has forced me out of my comfort zone a million times over and has challenged me to face many of my fears. I have been fortunate enough to make countless friends along the way and find a loving companion, who is just crazy enough to join me in my travels. Four years ago, I left Portland, OR on my bicycle, heading south with not a single plan set in stone – just an openness to experience something new. That journey continues today, and I’d like to share with you a few lessons I’ve learned from my extraordinary life of travel.
The first few steps might be the hardest, and it never gets easier – Whenever I’m about to embark on a new adventure, it’s the act of taking those first few steps in a tangential direction that are the hardest. The thing that has surprised me the most about this is that in the past four years I don’t think changing course has ever gotten easier. I guess that’s why it’s often those first few steps that make the biggest difference between an ordinary life and an extraordinary life. This principle is probably best summed up in Newton’s first law of motion – an object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion. I still find leaving home to set out on a two-month bicycle tour just as difficult as coming off that bike tour at the end of two months to set-up a new home. The thing that does get easier is the adaption process. The more I put myself outside of my comfort zone, the more tools I gather and the easier time I have to adapting to a new way of life.
Come up with an ‘ABC Plan’ – What’s an ABC Plan you say? Well, this is a little tool that I’ve developed over the years to help me feel more comfortable in taking those first few steps toward my goals. The “A” in ABC is the best case scenario. I imagine the best case scenario for whatever my next adventure is and what actions I will need to take in order to achieve those results. The truth about the “A” is that it often doesn’t require much more input other than getting started. If everything works in my favor, that scenario is usually self-sustaining and doesn’t require anything additional from me.
You might be able to guess now that the “C” in ABC is the worst case scenario. Mentally I can usually come up with at least half a dozen “C” scenarios, and I try to think about what I will need to do to resolve them or at least reduce the risk of them happening. With cycling these scenarios usually involve: getting my bike/panniers/wallet/cell phone stolen, running out of food/water/energy or ending up in a ditch/hospital/graveyard. While these aren’t pleasant things to think about, they will provide you with a much needed back-up plan and risk assessment strategy, which I have found will make you both more likely to survive a “C” scenario and actually downplay any fears you might have going into a new situation.
The “B” in the ABC Plan is the scenario that is most likely to happen. This is the part where I think you gain the most insight. When it comes to cycling this usually involves things like flat tires, broken chains and spokes, and running behind schedule. This part of the planning phase tells you how to pack and plan for things that are most likely to happen and will once again help alleviate any fears that you have going into your next adventure. The great thing about the ABC Plan is that you can use it in almost any area of your life where you have fear, even if you aren’t embarking on some big new adventure. Looking to ask for that promotion, but afraid? Develop an ABC Plan and explore your options. It might not seem like such a big task anymore.
A life of travel ranges from exhilarating to exhausting – I’m not going to lie, I have felt more exhausted, more times in the past four years than I ever remember feeling the 30 years prior. I’m not talking about the kind of exhaustion you get from riding a 100-mile bike ride or running a marathon. That exhaustion usually dissipates in a day or two. I’m talking about the exhaustion felt from life on the road. In the past four years I have moved my home base from New Orleans, LA to Newport, RI to Portland, OR to Skagway, AK to Durango, CO to Providence, RI to where I’m at now…which is looking for my next “home.” It’s not easy living a nomadic lifestyle, but I do have to say that I have been thrilled with the places I’ve been, the people I’ve met and the once-in-a-lifetime experiences I’ve encountered. I have actually looked back on the past four years of my life and thought to myself “I really do lived a charmed existence.” Though it is rarely easy, it is often rewarding, and that’s why I continue to live this way.
Less really is more – There are so many ways I see this principle apply to my life, and it has truly made me happier. The house with the least possessions is the house that’s the easiest to clean. What I’ve found out about the “less is more” philosophy is that it’s continuing to evolve for me. What I considered traveling light a few years ago is completely different than what I consider it today. I expect that four years from now that idea will have evolved even more. A question pertaining to my nomadic lifestyle that I’m often asked is “Where do you keep all your stuff?” My reply is often as simple as “What stuff?” I’ve learned that I can pretty much find anything I need in just about any town in America, even if I’ve entered that town empty-handed and having no connections. Things like Craigslist, email list-serves and eBay have made it easier than ever to walk into a new place and make a life for oneself. The great thing about the “less is more” philosophy is that it’s going to mean something different to everybody. We will all have different wants and needs. I’ve just found that I’m personally happiest only having to worry about the few possessions that I can carry on either my back or bicycle (and maybe a box or two of nostalgic items that I can keep at a relative’s house), than being bogged down by furnishings of a typical American household. This idea has also led me to purchasing more quality products, often reusing nice used items and focusing on longevity as an economic strategy.
Every experience is enhanced when it is shared – Before I met my Sarah three-and-a-half years ago I did most of my traveling alone. I had some great, I’d even say truly amazing experiences while traveling alone, and I encourage everybody to take on solo travel at least once in their life. Never having to compromise on things like where to go, what to do, where to eat or what to see is what tops my list about solo travel. What I’ve found though, in my own experience, is that when you don’t have another person with whom to share those amazing times, you tend to forget just how amazing they were. There is something about reminiscing with another human being about things that keeps those experiences so much more alive in our memories. After all, what’s the use of a life full of experiences if you have nobody to share them with?
What advice would the future version of yourself give you today? – When I find myself at a crossroads or in a moment of fear or uncertainty, it helps me to look to the future and imagine what advice a future version of myself would give me today. The amount of years I usually use is 10 because that’s a number I think of as being close enough to imagine yet far enough away to hold a different perspective. Maybe 5 years or 8 years or 20 years is a better benchmark for you, it doesn’t really matter. The thing about this exercise is that I find it can help even with the small decisions. Should I work out today? Future me says yes. Do I really need to eat this entire box of cookies? Future me says please don’t. Will this $100 be better off in my savings account or buying some new electronic device? Future me says the $100 does more for him in savings than in an electronic device that has been outdated for years. I’ve found that it helps the most with the big questions though. Should I continue working at this job that I hate because of the short-term fear of quitting or should I take a stab at something completely new? Future me says that I will benefit more from trying something new, even if that means failing, than continuing to do the same thing expecting different results. What would the future you have to say about your recent decisions?
All things considered, humanity is alive and well – Whenever I’ve found myself in a truly tough situation, I’ve found that there was a person there that was willing to help. In fact, something I’ve often said is that if I ever lose my faith in humanity, the best thing I can do is go on a bicycle tour. There’s something about cycling in particular that really seems to bring people together. With websites like WarmShowers and CouchSurfing, connecting with like-minded strangers has never been easier. These websites take away a lot of the fear of meeting new people too, because they require identification verification and you can read what others have to say about these people. I’ve also been shown such beautiful acts of unexpected kindness while bike touring. I’ve had complete strangers offer me a place to stay, buy me dinner, give me money and donate to charities that I support. One of the most touching acts of kindness I’ve experienced came at one of the lowest points in my years of bicycle touring – right after Sarah and I had our bikes stolen. Unbeknownst to us, some friends of ours reached out to strangers, friends and acquaintances and pooled together enough money to allow us to continue on with our travels. At my lowest point, I was shown the most amount of love.
As I continue on my journey through life, I understand that this list is not exhaustive and is just a drop in the bucket of lessons to be learned. What I’m hoping to show you is that a major life overhaul is possible, and it doesn’t have to be as scary as we humans tend to make it out to be. Even failures, if done in a thoughtful way, can be insightful steps in the right direction. While my ideal life right now is that of a nomadic one, I know that this too can and will change. I’m not recommending that everybody jump on a bicycle and ride across the country, but I do think that everybody can benefit from a little more adventure in their lives, whether that means taking your kids camping, asking your boss for a raise or simply taking your bike for a ride around the block. Two truths that continue to show up in my life: You’re never going to be as young as you are today, and this is the only life you’re guaranteed…so you better make the most of it.
It was a cold night. I woke up several times because I was so cold. It wasn’t until I took all the clothes out of my bag and laid them out under me and my sleeping bag before I slept well. It was just that the sand on the beach was so cold, I needed a barrier between me and the sand. After finally getting a few hours of rest I woke up to the sound of waves, and seagulls and something splashing around in the creek outside of my tent. A lot of things went through my head, but I finally thought that it might be a deer or elk. As I gained the courage to look out, I unzipped the tent and startled a man that was throwing a stick for his dog to catch. It was his dog jumping around in the water and he said that my tent blended in so well with the scenery that he didn’t even see me! I guess I picked a good spot.
Somebody had a good breakfast…
I packed up camp and ate some breakfast on a big piece of driftwood and then walked my bike back up the trail to the road. As soon as I started riding I went past a gutted rockfish. I wasn’t sure if it was a good omen or a bad one, but either way it never surprises me what you’ll see.
I figured I had about 12 miles until the town of Gualala and I would try to get some coffee and warm breakfast there. The morning was foggy and cold, but the ride warmed me up and was quite pleasant. My phone was dead though, so I had to wait until Gualala until I could see what the day had in store for me. I found a nice little market that I remembered from 2 years before and got some yogurt, fruit, pastries and coffee and found a place to plug in my electronic devices. I still didn’t have service and couldn’t get good WiFi so I found a crossword to do while I waited for everything to charge.
While I was stuck trying to figure out a 7 letter word for converse I saw another cyclist park his bike outside. His name was Nate and was working his way down the entire coast, from just over the border in Canada all the way to the border of Mexico. He had actually started the trip back in August, but had to fly home when he got to Portland, and had recently just returned to finish his journey. It was his first bicycle tour and planned to be traveling for the next year. He said he had sold his house and spent the last year in Africa and didn’t know where he would end up after this trip. It always nice meeting likeminded fellow travelers.
As Sarah knows, this is a common scene for me…
It seemed like it took forever to get my computer and phone charged, and I finally got back on the road a little after noon. As soon as I started on my way, I heard some noise from my rear wheel. I couldn’t deal with it any longer, and stopped about 2 miles up the road to fix it. It was a loose spoke in the rear wheel. I think I had this problem before when I was traveling on a newly built wheel. I tightened it up and while I was at it realigned my brakes, cleaned my rear cassette and readjusted my fenders. This should definitely fix any noise (I hate little noises!).
I finally got back on the road around 1:30pm. I wasn’t off to a good start today, but the sun had finally come out and I was enjoying the ride. I saw a bunch of hawks and falcons along the road. Some with black and white striped tails, and some with long red feathered tails. Then maybe about 10 miles down the road I crossed a pack of wild turkeys. Sometimes I wish I was more of birder so I could identify all the cool birds I see.
Stillwater Cove
The coast was beautiful, but the 180 degree turns and ups and downs didn’t stop with yesterday’s ride. I found myself climbing quite a bit, but it was definitely a lot more pleasant with all the weight I left behind. My phone didn’t have service for most of the day and the towns were few and far between. I eventually stopped for lunch at a place called Stillwater Trail around 3:00pm. I had also just crossed over the 700 mile mark for the whole trip, which made it about 33 for the day. I ate some fruit and pistachios and an energy bar and figured I had another 15 miles or so until I could get a good meal in Jenner.
Sonoma county along the coast is absolutely breathtaking. It was such an awesome day today. The 15 miles to Jenner took a little longer than I expected because I had a ton of climbing to do along the way. The climbing though, also added to the scenery and I found myself high above the clouds and the ocean with nothing but sunshine surrounding me. I got so warm in fact that I decided to take my shirt off and work on my tan as I climbed higher and higher.
High up on a mountain
In Jenner a lot of the restaurants looked kind of fancy so I found a gas station with a deli. I got a spinach and feta calzone and some iced coffee and took a nice long break to eat. It was starting to get late and I had about another 11 miles to get to Bodega Bay. I could see the road ahead of me was foggy too, which meant it was going to be a little cooler than the last part of my ride. A few miles up the road the fog got so thick that you could just make out the faint disc of a sun, and if I didn’t know better I would have mistaken it for the moon.
As I past the Bodega Bay Campgrounds, the sign on the outside said it was full. I stopped to check my phone to see if there was anything else available and was greeted by a man named Silas (sp?), who I had been leap frogging with all day long. He was traveling with an RV and some bicycles and a few other people. He was super friendly and had met Eli (who helped me camp the night before) and had heard a little about my travels. He seemed like a super happy guy and had travelled up and down the coast a lot over the years. It sounds like they were from Seattle but head south every fall to get warmer weather. He didn’t know if I’d find anything in Bodega Bay, but encouraged me to go on since I still had some daylight.
Locked 3 times, just in case…
I couldn’t find a place to stay in Bodega Bay and it was super foggy. I had my two rear lights flashing and my two front headlights on, as well as my reflective vest and yellow jacket in order to be seen. I decided to continue on and wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in the cold again. Just a mile or two up the road I came across the Doran Regional Park. The park was apparently closed, but I needed to get off the road. I found a super sweet spot to camp in the sand next to a picnic bench and could even hear sea lions in the distance. It was quiet and warmer than the previous night. I was happy with the spot, and decided to wake up early just to avoid any confrontation that may occur with workers or security or people. I wasn’t sure why the park was closed, but I wasn’t bothered by anybody and it made for a serene night of sleep.
Total miles for the day: 61 mi
Total elevation: 5161 ft
Tracking our ride from Portland to San Francisco
That’s a link to the map that Dallas has been using to keep track of our ride. He doesn’t have wifi tonight so cannot post a blog entry, but hopefully this will set your mind at ease in the meantime. He is almost to San Francisco! If I can figure out how, I will embed the map into this site…
Sarah and family dropped me off at the Navarro River Junction, where highway 1 meets 128. They were all heading inland to drive through wine country and some redwoods, and I was continuing on down the Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco by bike on my own. Lucky for me I was able to leave some weight with Sarah which minimized my load to just some essentials on my rear rack. My bike was still not light, but it would definitely make the 180+/- trek to SF a lot easier, especially with all the coastal climbs and descents. So, with that said, what better way to start the ride with an ascent!
My plan was to make it to the Manchester KOA which our fellow cyclist Adam told us about earlier that morning. It should only be about 20 miles up the road, but since it was already 4pm I figured it should be just about the right amount of time. The ride was nice, but it had a bunch of ups and downs. In fact, it started to feel a little like a reoccurring nightmare. The road would veer left, go down hill into a little river gulch, make a 180 degree U-turn to the right and head back up. This happened dozens of times throughout my ride. Down to the left, up and to the right, down, up, down, up…
Some of the 180 degree turns continue going uphill
I tried not to stop too much, and was feeling so free with how light my bike was. I was a little worried about feeling unstable since I had all the weight moved to the back and nothing up front, but I got used to the new balance quickly and was moving pretty fast. I think I was averaging about 15mph instead of the usual 10-12mph. On the steep hills I was used to going about 4mph, but now was easily maintaining about 6-7mph. The big difference was that I was able to keep a higher cadence. With how my bike is geared (not having a lower gear on a third chainring), the hills would quickly kill my cadence which kills momentum and is less efficient overall. With my drop of weigh I was able to keep my cadence closer to what is most efficient. I also noticed that I was building up speed quicker on the flat sections, and able to keep it up near 20mph without the effort I was putting in before. All this made for a very pleasant ride to Manchester, and I passed the KOA a little after 5:30. Having still another hour of daylight I continued on and figured I’d find something in the next town up, Point Arena.
The blue sky to my left taunted me all ride…
I arrived in Point Arena around 6:30pm and stopped at the natural foods co-op market. They were closing at 7pm, so I didn’t have much time. My phone was dead and I was hungry so my plan was to just get a snack and some tea and charge my phone so I could hopefully find a place to stay. As I searched google for hotels and campgrounds, I was sad to see that nothing was close. I decided to charge my phone until they closed and then I took my hot tea to go and headed across the street to a restaurant/bar to get a proper meal.
I ate at a place called the Pacific Plate. It was tasty but a little pricey. The black bean soup and salad with homemade pesto ranch hit the spot. It was about 8pm when I hit the road again and it was dark and starting to fog up. I found a place just outside of town on my phone that looked like it would be a good spot. As I turned off onto the dirt road I started having second thoughts, and eventually when I made it 1/2 a mile up the road to a private residence, I knew it was a bad decision. I turned around, made it back on highway 1 and continued south. I eventually crossed a gulch and saw a beach down below. I pulled off the road to take a closer look and was greeted by another cyclist. His name was Eli and he had been camping down on the beach for the past few nights. He assured me it was the best place around and told me how to get down to the beach. I had to backtrack to the other side of the gulch again and headed to find a place to set up.
I dismounted my bike to walk it down the trail to the beach since it was so dark. I’m glad I did too because I saw something moving up ahead. At first I thought it was just the shadows from my light bouncing down the path, but then I saw it…a big bushy tailed skunk heading up the trail right toward me. I stopped in my tracks and made some noise. The last thing I wanted was to be sprayed by a skunk. The little guy looked up at me and then took his time getting off the trail and into the bushes. Skunks always seem to have a swagger to them, and I haven’t ever seen them move too fast. It’s like they know that you’ll wait for them because if you don’t they have not fear in spraying you.
My sweet little campsite
When I got to the beach I found the perfect spot tucked away behind some driftwood. It was cold and misty but I was so happy to find a good spot. I set up camp and put on my long wool clothing to try and stay warm.
Total miles for the day: 64 mi (28 for this section)
Total amount of climbing: 7,067 ft (2542 for this section)
Early morning sun shines through the trees
Dallas and I found that we had made a wise decision to stop where we did the night before. We packed up and were out of the campground before the sun came up, and started climbing a mountain just as the sun was rising. This climb was not as treacherous as I had feared – the guy we talked to yesterday said it took an hour and a half to ascend – but it was still grueling. We rode for maybe 4 miles up a steep, narrow, and winding road before we had any break at all. There would have been no place to camp again for the next 27 miles, and it would have taken us forever to get there yesterday evening.
We're still climbing
The worst part about climbing is temperature control. Since the sun hadn’t warmed up the road yet, it started off pretty cold, and I kept having to stop to peel off layers as I worked up a pretty good sweat. The road had warm and cold patches depending on which side of the mountain we were on, but it really felt cold as we started to coast down. With no need to pedal and our clothes drenched in sweat, the apparent wind created by our downhill speed chilled us to the bone. I put my gloves back on midway through the descent, but they were sweaty and useless. By the time we had to pedal again, my hands and feet were numb. We had another great climb closer to the coast, about 10 miles before we hit Westport.
Fog on the coast
When we finally reached the coast, it was foggy and much cooler than it had been on the other side of the mountains. We pulled into the general store in Westport around 11, having gone just under 30 miles – and it was earlier than we can usually wake up for the day! This is where we met Adam, a bicycle tourist from Nashville who had also started his tour in Portland. We talked for a few minutes before Adam continued south and we bought coffee and shared some snacks.
I struggle to steer Dallas's bike
I was anxious to get moving and be in Fort Bragg by noon to meet my dad and step-mom, Paulette, who were visiting from Rhode Island. We still had 16 miles to go, and it was after 11:30 when we left the store, so it wasn’t going to happen. To slow things down a bit more, Dallas and I switched bikes for a few miles. This confirmed our suspicions that my bike is much easier to pedal up hills, with its touring chain rings. I am impressed with Dallas’s strength and ability to grind up hills in ill-suited gears. We did make it about halfway to Fort Bragg from Westport before we saw my dad and Paulette drive by in their rental car.
My dad, Paulette, me, and Dallas before Dallas departs on his bicycle
This is where I ended my day of riding to spend the next few days sightseeing San Francisco with them. Dallas and I loaded our belongings and ourselves into the minivan and enjoyed the ride to Fort Bragg, where we ate lunch. We stopped in Mendecino for ice-cream and drove a few more miles down the coast before letting Dallas out to ride the rest of the way to San Francisco on his own. Dallas will hopefully update all of us on his solo journey from here. I certainly look forward to seeing him when he arrives in the city!
Nomadic Cycling 