Dropped off here by pop. From here I’ll ride to a campsite within the park and stay overnight.
(Day 2)
Rocky Point ResortRocky Point Resort http://www.rockypointoregon.com/maps.htm
40 miles south, almost entirely downhill. Will probably take less than 4 hours to get here.
$35 RV spots with electricity, $85 rooms.
(Day 3)
Upper Klamath National Wildlife Refuge
0.5 miles SW of the main compound are canoe rentals for viewing the wildlife preserve. Costly, but an excellent trip. Routes are clearly mapped within the preserve. Hundreds of bird species.
30 miles after Kimball, you enter a causeway over the Klamath Marsh National Wildlife Refuge. The water will be low here. There are rough campsites available here in the road complex to the right, including a canoe launch.
Campsites numerous and obvious at the base of the cone, none on the way up, the summit is entirely open. Sites are unimproved, “dispersed camping” conditions, pay attention to fire conditions as this area is extremely dry. Unless you see otherwise, if you are there in summer or fall, expect a fire ban is in place.
From the main road to the summit is about eight miles.
(Day 7)
Table Rock to Summer Lake Preserve
There is an RV park just before this area, but it may be on the upside of the hill.
(Day 8)
Summer Lake Preserve to Summer Lake Hot Springs 41777 Highway 31, Paisley, OR 97636, phone: 541-943-3931, toll free: 877-492-8554
Wagontire is a busted up dirty wreck, but it has an RV park, a cafe, and a cheap motel. You better get some water here because Riley is 30 more miles out.
27 miles and approach the town of Riley. If you’re looking for a neat sight there’s some kind of bloody red quarry/riverbed off the road leading down into town, to the east. More free dry camping if you’re tough enough for it.
Riley
2 miles further down the main road, you merge with Highway 20 at the town of Riley. There’s a truck stop here … take advantage of it. From this point you have a bunch of options. The smartest one is to head due east on the highway until you get to Hines. You could also turn SE and angle towards Harney Lake, a hugeass flat white salty expanse of nothing. To get to the middle of it you’d have to go almost 40 miles. The good news is you’ll pass by a reservoir. Still, it’s probably not worth it.
26 more miles east you’ll eventually turn north and pass by Hines, which appears to have an RV park. Probably a good place to find a shower and snacks.
26 miles straight east on the Central Oregon Highway and the road will curve NE. Then you’ll see a funkyass hill with Buchanan as the foot. Another snack stop.
17 miles, including a 2 mile left turn on the only paved road. There’s a lot of hill climbing here – you may not make it all the way in good time. But Drewsey has steady water supply and appears to be a good place for snacks.
18 miles on good highway. Just outside of Drewsey, back on the main road, you can expect a 1000 foot climb to the top of a hill, followed by a lot of coasting.
34 miles east you’ll eventually roll into Harper. The road is very curvy here, but flat, and the mountains are gorgeous. You’ll probably want to stop somewhere and stealth-camp before Harper. The city is to the NE down a road called Harper Junction and is large enough to sport a stadium.
18 miles more and you’ll arrive in Fruitland, across the border in Idaho. This city is merged with Ontario, which you will have already passed. Plenty of places to stay a night in relative comfort here.
47 miles to this city, SE and then E. There are many other places to choose from, but this is probably the smartest. You’ll pass the Black Canyon Reservoir on your right when the road gets curvy,
32 miles and about 1000 feet of climbing will take you to Grimes Pass, past many designated campgrounds. The campgrounds thin out beyond Grimes Pass for a while until you get most of the way to Lowman, so depending on how lazy you feel, you could stop anywhere around here.
19 more miles and 1000 feet up, past an airport strip and along a crappy road, you’ll find a campground near the alleged Hot Springs of Bonneville. We Shall See. There is also a Forest Service Facility in this area, though I don’t know what the hell those are for.
39 miles and 2000 feet more and you get to Stanley. The last third of the route is a long downhill coast into the valley where Stanley is. Many places to camp along the way – take your pick.
(Day 20, Day 21)
If you’re feeling ambitious and tough, the best thing you can do in Stanley is hike up to Sawtooth Lake, starting from the Iron Creek Trailhead and the campsite nearby (see the last link, above). It’s a three mile hike that goes about 1500 feet up.
For comparison’s sake, a hike from Sand Pond to Upper Sardine, all the way around the lake, and back down to Sand Pond is 2.75 miles and involves a climb of about 700 feet. So this is basically twice as hard of a hike, multiplied by two. You will need to provide for carrying a full load of camping gear. The only way to make this practical is to wait for backup from the La.
Raise bike handlebars by a few inches Done – But the extender raised the bars too damn high. Now the bike rides way wrong.
Chop pieces off handlebar spacer at Tech Shop (Get help from Matt?) Hopefully this will fix the problem
Rain fenders Not sure if I want these yet. Where I’m going, rain is highly unlikely.
Abrade a notch in the left pedal arm for the cadence sensor
Get a decent hippie-weave long-sleeve thermal underwear waffle shirt Done – La found me two at Old Navy just before they discontinued the design.
Rain coat or whatnot Again, not sure if I want these.
USB hangable fan
Get a better seat Underway – I’ve already gone through two seats and am still monkeying with seat-post adjustments
Get a seat-post that has an adjustable tilt axis.
USB hangable flashlight
Balaklava
Second water bottle Done
Second bottle holder Underway – La says I can have hers
Regease chain Done – Replaced chain as part of gearset upgrade
Add small pockets from Ortleib onto bags
National park pass
Passportamerica.com membership
Add songs to cycling playlist (NIN song, Solar Fields song) Underway
Clothing
Bike shorts – 2 pairs Done
Helmet Done
Helmet-mountable lamp
Long-sleeve shirts – Two Done
Luggage strap for rear rack Done
Second luggage strap for rear rack
Rain-proof pants Probably not taking these
Small backpack Done
Ski gloves Done – Essential even in mildly cold weather, when evening falls
Socks – 4 pairs Done
Sunglasses Done
Sweater – Lightweight Done – Bulky but very light. Quite warm. Can be put on without removing helmet
T-Shirts – Two Done
Underwear – 6 pairs Done – Clean underwear is a MUST.
Electronics
Battery pack Underway
Cadence Sensor Done
Cadence Sensor Batteries Done
Camera Still debating what to get, here. Leaning towards the Sony Alpha 700
Camera Battery
Camera Battery Charger Cradle
Camera lens cover
Camera media card
Camera media card reader Done
USB Mini cable Done
GPS charging mount Done
GPS unit Done
Headphones Done
iPhone Done
iPhone mic wire Done
iPhone USB connector cable Done
MacBook adapter Done
MacBook Air Done
Repair Kit
Chain master links
Chain oil Done
Emergency spoke Done
Spoke wrench Done
Rear Cassette removal adapter Done – Useful for remote repair in towns without a bike shop.
Eyelet bolts Done
Hex wrenches Done
Pocketknife Done
Spare tire tube Done
Tire levers Done
Tire Pump Done
Zipties – various sizes Done – Can come in handy for emergency rack repairs.
Spare brake pads
Toiletries/Camping
Mirror – Small and Portable Done
Rope – Thin, for hanging clothes
Safety Razor Done
Sleeping bag Underway – Big Agnes “Summer Park” bag, enroute in the mail
Sleeping mattress Done – Ortleib self-inflating pad, extra wide
Soap Done
Tent Done – Vauge Hogan XT, fits two, with a vestibule area for bike crud.
Tent tarp
Toilet paper in a baggie Done – Don’t leave home without it!!
Toothbrush Done
Towel – medium size Done
Washcloth Done
Wallet – Cash, ID, credit card, change for showers Done
Food
Peanut Butter Cups
Produce! (Spinach, Broccoli, etc)
Water sack Done – This thing is going to save my metaphorical bacon, I just know it.
Oil and iron supplements Done – La found a liquid iron supplement that is quite delicious!
Various other foods TBD Underway
Bike USB Charger/Generator Project
Get a resistor for the second regulator to set it for 4.5v
Wire the second regulator to the board
Add a second plug for a head-mounted lamp
Splice a Macbook Air adapter and test charging voltages
Learn enough CAD to draft an enclosure Done – Solidworks kicks ass
Come up with an enclosure design that isn’t shitty Done – Two-piece interlocking design with batteries in one half and board and switches in the other half.
Draft the design Underway
Cut it into printable components
Convert the design to STL and email it to TechShop for review
Get a TechShop membership
Use the 3D printer to draft-print pieces for measurement testing
Cut and extend the wiring of the three LEDs on the TuneCharger board
Affix a heatsink to the TuneCharger coil to diffuse heat over the battery walls
Splice the plug wire of the bike light assembly so it can plug into the battery pack
Get some cloth compression straps for the anchor slots on the enclosure
Screw the switches, sockets, and LEDs into the enclosure, and seal them
Ride and test charging rates
Bike computer setup (Of COURSE I have a section just for this. I’m a nerd.)
Annotated itinerary Underway
Add to google route map Underway
Cover MacBook air with stickers to make it look ugly
Install and register Ascent Underway – Not registered yet.
GPS utility to cross-index photos
Speech recognition software Underway – MacSpeech copied up, but not installed yet.
Script to auto-process speech files
Map caching app on iPhone
Configure iTunes with books and music Underway
Put iPhone apps on macbook air Done
Confirm that tethering works
Assemble a movie-and-sound posting package for the iPhone Not sure how complicated this is going to be.
Bike Training Trips To Test Camping Gear(Can’t start these because my camping gear is incomplete.)
Bike to work, bike home, and camp in the back yard. Then get up, shower, and bike to work again.
Starting from work, bike home, then camp in the back yard. Get up, shower, and bike to the Tech Shop in Menlo Park. Then bike home again.
Starting in San Francisco, bike across the Golden Gate Bridge to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, camp, then bike back across the bridge.
Starting in Carmel, bike south on Highway 1 to the Andrew Molera State Park, camp, then ride back to Carmel. (DANGEROUS)
Starting from work on a weekend morning, bike to Sam McDonald County Park via Alpine Road (over the mountains), camp, then bike to the coast along Pescadero Creek Rd and turn south for as long as I can.
Starting at the reservoir, bike up to Skyline Blvd and across to the Nisene Marks back entrance. Continue through that to Santa Cruz.
I inaugurated the new year by doing something that I could never have done one year ago. I got up in the morning at 9:00am, packed a campsite’s worth of gear onto a bike – 75 pounds total – and then rode the bike 83 miles. This, after riding 80 miles over the previous two days!
One year ago I would have said, “83 miles? Ridiculous. Forget it, kid. The people who do that are Olympians. You’d be lucky to get 30 miles a day. Twenty or less if there’s a lot of crap loaded on your bike.”
In three days I rode from my house in San Jose to Pinnacles National Monument and back. According to my GPS tracker, I burned close to 10000 calories. And that’s just from the bicycling – so it’s on top of the regular 1700 or so that my body uses just to operate each day.
(The “1” flag you see on the map there is where I stopped for the night at the end of day 1, and where I got french fries on day 3. The “2” is where my GPS ran low on batteries, and I had to stop for a while and connect it to the charging cradle inside my handlebar bag.)
As I type this I’m sitting in the Vegetarian House restaurant, with three main courses in front of me. I’ve already obliterated the “Majestic Mango”, and have the “Ocean Basket” and the “Thai Curry Soup” to go. It’s a good start, since I have six days of calories to make up for…
Now it’s time for some pictures and some lists. Let’s start with a list:
Inane Things That Only Long-Distance Cyclists Care About:
“I want to take a detour on highway [blah] but OMG what if the ROAD IS ALL NOBBLY??” ( Different types of pavement have a different rolling resistance. )
“Gosh, I hope the next town has a small store with big windows.” ( Otherwise I won’t be able to watch my bike while I’m shopping. )
“I hope that fence is strong, because that dog is going to go nuts the second it sees me.” ( Handy tip to potential dog owners: If the breed you’re interested in is too dumb to know the difference between a buffalo and a bicyclist, try a smarter breed, please. )
“Hmmm, I want to get a snack but … how do I find the one with THE MOST calories, that weighs the least?” ( Okay, maybe hikers worry about this too. )
Let’s mix thing up a bit. Here’s an audio recording of the side of the road, made between San Jose and Gilroy. That’s me eating a bag of chips in the foreground.
This is the hotel room I stayed in at the end of the first night. It’s the Gilroy Motel 6, and it cost a damn fortune, but on the upside they had an endless supply of hot water.
You can also see the bike. The two front bags have been removed and dumped out on the bedspread, and the food moved to the fridge. That’s about 20 pounds of the 75 pounds total.
Here’s a shot of the bike against a tree. I took a break to pee and change into a long-sleeved shirt. Sketchy operations in the suburbs, man. The USB charger device is packed into that bag on the handlebars.
Heading south from Gilroy on day two. The fog makes the road look mysterious.
A sturdy white fence and some colorful trees is a classic photograph setting!
A sturdy white fence and some colorful trees make a classic setting.
In case you’ve never seen these up close, these are what the plastic rows on all the fields look like. The plastic insulates the soil, greatly enhancing the survival rate of the crops on cold nights.
In case you’ve never seen these up close, these are what the plastic rows on all the fields look like. The plastic insulates the soil, greatly enhancing the survival rate of the crops on cold nights.
In case you’ve never seen these up close, these are what the plastic rows on all the fields look like. The plastic insulates the soil, greatly enhancing the survival rate of the crops on cold nights.
There’s something about silhouettes in mist that reminds me of the otherworlds described in Lewis Carroll books. This probably dates back to my time playing old 2D Windham Classics games on the Apple II.
There’s something about silhouettes in mist that reminds me of the otherworlds described in Lewis Carroll books. This probably dates back to my time playing old 2D Windham Classics games on the Apple II.
There’s something about silhouettes in mist that reminds me of the otherworlds described in Lewis Carroll books. This probably dates back to my time playing old 2D Windham Classics games on the Apple II.
The trees just march off into nothingness. How far would you have to walk before you passed the same suspiciously identical tree?
The trees just march off into nothingness. How far would you have to walk before you passed the same suspiciously identical tree?
Same with shots like this one. The trees just march off into nothingness. How far would you have to walk before you passed the same suspiciously identical tree?
As the towns get smaller, the periodicals get weirder. I don’t think there has been a single day in the history of The Watchtower where the staff didn’t think they were Living In The Last Days.
As the towns get smaller, the periodicals get weirder. I don’t think there has been a single day in the history of The Watchtower where the staff didn’t think they were Living In The Last Days.
As the towns get smaller, the periodicals get weirder. I don’t think there has been a single day in the history of The Watchtower where the staff didn’t think they were Living In The Last Days.
As an aside, I look at a religious magazine like this and all my cynical brain can see is a giant, wriggling tick, sitting there on the countertop. An intellectual parasite. People pick it up and it burrows into them and steals their power, sucking it up for itself, and releases some chemical that makes them feel secure in exchange.
Picture them; the devout, scratching at their ears and eyes because they itch from all the ticks inside. It’s a pretty effective metaphor. Um, anyway, moving on…
The combination restaurant, pool hall, and general store that I stopped in for a bottled Spanish coke. The salt and pepper shakers were made from the same bottles.
The combination restaurant, pool hall, and general store that I stopped in for a bottled Spanish coke. The salt and pepper shakers were made from the same bottles.
The combination restaurant, pool hall, and general store that I stopped in for a bottled Spanish coke. The salt and pepper shakers were made from the same bottles.
The birds were out to play on the farmland. About this time I began listening to the audiobook of “The Worst Hard Time”, a tale which fit quite nicely with a meditative trip through the country. The book describes the situation of my ancestors only two or three generations ago, surviving the horrendous dust storms of the 1930’s. (For those of you not in the know: Once the farming ecology around Oklahoma and Texas collapsed, the region became a host for dust storms so incredibly enormous that they would roll out all the way across the eastern half of the United States and interfere with ships out in the Atlantic Ocean.)
It occurred to me that despite my valid complaints of not having enough time to do things, I have never had to worry about having the strength left in me to do things. My ancestors had to work so hard their fingers literally bled, in territory so cold it could freeze their eyelids shut at night, sleeping in a dirt house crawling with snakes and spiders, burning cow dung for heat, and they considered that an improvement over the utter destitution and government betrayal that they had left behind in Russia. They sang songs and ate bratwurst and had huge defiant weddings.
Just being out here on a bicycle, in such good health to pedal it, armed with my credit card and guided by my iPhone, is an exercise of immense independence and wealth. It kicks ass. If my ancestors had stayed in Russia, I would probably be the same half-frozen peasant farmer of 100 years ago. I’d just have slightly better glasses and maybe a digital watch, and a lot more dead relatives to mourn.
California’s got this nicely varied middle section, where you can get badlands and vineyards in the same shot.
It was getting late, but I still couldn’t help myself with the stopping and the picture taking. Seeing how this shot turned out makes me wish I had a better camera. Of course, a new one would weigh even more than this one — but having a fancy camera to fool around with is so much a part of the adventure, I’d happily accept the extra weight.
Just after this photo I ran into a huge hill, the first really steep one of the trip, and I hadn’t been expecting it. As I pedaled in my lowest gear I passed the time by calling the hill foul names and cursing it under my breath. It was obvious that I wouldn’t make it to Pinnacles before nightfall.
I began to scope out the valleys on either side of the road in case I found a spot suitable for some guerrilla camping. I almost tried it twice, when promising spots presented themselves, but changed my mind at the last minute when I realized I would just spend the entire night worrying with one ear cocked out for murderous wildlife or angry farmhands.
Two or three hours later I finally made it to Pinnacles. This was four hours later than I’d planned. Turns out the final stretch of the route was infested with steep hills – wavy ones all bunched up together that hadn’t shown on the 3D map while I was gauging the distance the previous night. Also, I made a lot more stops than I expected.
TOP TEN REASONS MR. FINS, AMATEUR CYCLIST, WILL STOP
10. Whew! Time to change shirts.
9. Oh boy a general store! Time to get more SNACKS. (I am pwn3d by snacks.)
8. Ugh, this hill is just too steep for too long. Let’s push and walk for a while.
7. Lousy sunglasses, getting all greased up… Time to wipe them off.
6. Okay, now the signals from my bladder are not so subtle. Time to find a tree.
5. Damn, someone’s calling and I’m wearing gloves. Time to stop, take one off, and press the ‘answer’ button.
4. Ding dingg… Snack time!
3. I feel just a tiiiny bit thirsty. I Can’t Be Having With This. Glug glug glug.
2. Look at all the pretty birdies and flowers! Eeee!
1. Oh how lovely; I simply must photograph that! (Technically a tie with #2.)
A chilly night camping at Pinnacles National Monument, California
A chilly night camping at Pinnacles National Monument, California
This is what my campsite looked like in the morning. I decided to pitch the tent in the middle of the driveway, since it was the flattest part of the site. My original plan was to stay here for two days, but the weather made it unbearable. The sleeping bag I brought was just not warm enough. The mattress I brought was also a bit too small for the sleeping bag.
As I tossed around in it trying to bend myself onto the mattress, I was treated to a chorus of critters yowling in the distance. Here, have a recording!
When I trekked over to the manager’s office at 9:45am, they’d posted the temperature measurements from the previous night. Turns out it had dropped to six degrees below freezing.
The projections for the next night were even lower. I wasn’t interested in dealing with that for a second night, so I decided to pack everything right back up.
This tent was a combination Christmas/birthday present from a collection of friends and family members. (A “Vaude Hogan XT”) It kicks ass, and I extend my sincere thanks to all of you!
The whole thing, including poles, weighs less than 7 pounds. It’s roomy enough for two people and has this handy “vestibule” area where you can hide your bike from the weather (or thieves), and you can put it together in only a couple of minutes.
To put it together at night I propped the bicycle against a log a couple yards away and gave the front wheel a long spin, charging up the headlight, which illuminated the spot – but only weakly. I gotta get one of those head-mounted lights that I can plug into my battery pack.
This is another reason I decided to pack things up. Even at 10:30am, with the sun fully up, my campsite was wedged in the shade of a huge hill. The ground around here was going to get only a little direct sunlight, meaning it would be extra cold at night. Bah.
See all that crud on the picnic table? I brought that here on a bike! Heeheeeeeee!
After packing up I rode down into the preserve to eat lunch and relax. Here I’m eating one of the sandwiches La made for me before she left for Florida, drinking the bottled coke, and wearing my bike helmet to keep my head from frying.
The sun made me want to lay down and take a nap, but unfortunately, all the ground was either too hard, or too steep. Technically I’d spent ten hours in bed the previous night, but the sleep had not been comfortable. For some reason I’d dreamed about cooking a batch of chocolate covered almonds. I think that’s actually the first time in my life I’ve had a dream about cooking chocolate. Must be the calorie deficit talking.
Anyway, it was quite relaxing, and I wanted to call La and wish her a Happy New Year, but the whole National Monument area is devoid of cell towers.
On the way back out of Pinnacles, I stopped at the manager’s office and bought a huge bag of chips, since I felt hungry for salt. An old fellow saw me on the front steps began asking enthusiastic questions about my journey and my equipment, and I encouraged him to try something similar.
It was one of several conversations with total strangers about my trip. The first happened at the check-in desk of the Motel 6. The next one happened at the In’n’Out Burger where I stopped for french fries (a stocky latino looking dude), and the next was outside a 7-11 where I stopped for a banana (a tough looking black man).
The man looked at the banana, grinned, and opened the conversation with, “I should probably be eating that too, instead of these cinnamon rolls. Where are you biking from? Are you doing a tour?” What astonished me about that conversation was that he used the word “tour”, which is the proper technical term for the biking/camping journey I was on. Up until last summer, I hadn’t even known the term myself.
On the way back I was stopped in my tracks many a time by the sight of the winter sun illuminating the trees. The pictures don’t even begin to do it justice, but it’s fun to try.
There’s a lot of space here. Funny to imagine that the whole interior of California used to be this open; even San Jose. Well, San Jose was probably wetlands and forest, but, you know what I mean.
I’ve seen people throw away a lot of things by the side of the road. Earlier this day I passed three bleached skeletons – either dog or coyote – that had been hurled down the side of a ravine several seasons ago as bodies. Now here’s the remains of someone’s engine block. Eventually I’ll start seeing plundered treasure chests, tarnished oil lamps, and mysterious tomb carvings.
So there you have it. That ‘Lap 1’ marker is the place where I ate lunch on the last day. From there I rode 83 miles back to San Jose. I was going to stop in Gilroy, but when I got there, I washed my face at the In’n’Out Burger and sat down for a while, and decided that I felt good enough to ride the rest of the way home. Besides, my GPS read 48 miles for the day, and I wanted to finally break the 50 mile mark that had been eluding me all year.
As I pedaled for home I had to stop often just to give my wrists a break. They were hurting pretty badly from the weight of my leaning body, no matter what position I tried on the handlebars. Plus my sweater leaked through the teeth of the neck zipper, sending jets of cold air down my chest. La called me on the phone and she kept me company for almost an hour of my ride, which was very helpful, since it was quite dark beyond the range of my headlight and all I had to look at was an endless reel of curb and the cold pavement. She even told me a bedtime story, and stayed on the phone while she brushed her teeth. (The story was about a fish made of frosting, who lived on a cake, and took a journey to the sea and discovered he was actually a regular fish underneath!)
Every now and then I would concentrate on my legs and try to gauge how well they were doing. Would they wear out before San Jose? Were they getting cold? But they felt fine, and with the blood flowing a circuit between my exposed legs and my insulated torso, they were warm enough. They just kept on turning. I wasn’t even breathing hard. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I felt like I wasn’t breathing any more then I would just sitting in a chair, reading a book.
Just outside of the San Jose city limits I stopped and took one glove off to poke the iPhone, and wiped my chin with my hand. A mass of water spilled off my face. Apparently I’d been riding through the mist long enough for it to collect in my beard like a wet sponge, but it was the same temperature as the air so I never noticed.
Things Mr. Fins Learned On This Ride:
Motels are fricking EXPENSIVE.
This pastime is not as rare as I thought, which is a relief. I passed four or five very friendly bicyclists on my trip, including an old couple riding a geared-up tandem. Hooray for non-car journeys!
When the sun goes down on the road in winter, it gets cold FAST. And it takes time for the land to reheat when the sun comes up again. That leaves about 5 hours of riding time where you might be comfortable without nine jackets and twenty hiking socks on.
Salty snacks and sugar are easy to find on the road, but potassium is difficult. Pretty much your only choice is bananas at a fruit stand.
Going solo is relaxing and liberating, but without a riding partner, many things become difficult or even impossible. Shopping and using an urban public toilet are the worst. It’s ridiculous. This is not a problem for ANY other method of transportation, as far as I know. Except maybe camel.
A bike fully loaded with gear can get VERY heavy. Those little items add up fast. The good news is, with the increased weight, you can remain steady at lower speeds, so you can follow behind pedestrians on the sidewalk and make ’em all nervous.
And despite the extra weight, once you get a loaded bike rolling, it’s not hard to keep rolling. This was a pleasant surprise. I was expecting it to be like those exercise bikes in the gym whose idea of “hill” is a constant knee-aching resistance as if you were stuck eternally in the wrong gear. But the difference was one of inertia, not resistance.
For the last 8 miles or so I kept staring at the little blue dot on the iPhone map and yelling, “Move, damn you! MOVE!!” I was cold and tired and there was nothing to look at, and I just wanted to be off the bike. Two miles out, I began singing They Might Be Giants lyrics out loud, since the streets were deserted and I was getting a bit delirious.
But I made it. That was my first “official” touring adventure, and my first day over 50 miles. And my first day of 2009!
So after tinkering and going on small rides for all of last year, and obsessing about equipment and reading trip journals and carefully testing my endurance, I’ve decided it’s time to start getting serious about my dream of a cross-country bicycle trip.
I’ve found that a good way to assess my situation is to have a Q&A session with myself, so that’s what I’m doing here.
1. Why the hell are you doing this?
Because I want to get outside and see the country, on a tactile level, and breathe the air. Because my job keeps me cooped up inside, and even though I love my job and would not trade it for any other, I need to do something to counteract the feeling of frittering my life away in a cave. Because I like being on my bike. It is a fantastic way to travel. I also like camping, I like futzing with my camera, I like audiobooks, I like snacks. It’s everything I like.
2. Great, but, no, seriously – across the whole damn United States? That’s insane.
It’s been done tens of thousands of times by people with similar experience levels. There are yearly events, even races, with dozens of riders. There are well-considered routes to choose from. As you investigate it, it seems more possible, not less.
I’ve already had many day-long trips and back-to-back trips… But I know I’m definitely going to have to keep training. At this point, though, I’m convinced that I have the fitness level to do it. I just need to refine my equipment to the point where it’s as comfortable to use as possible.
3. Fine, fine. You think you can do it. But still, that’s a very long distance. How about riding to Los Angeles instead? How about a trip to Oregon? Or Yosemite and back?
I may eventually decide that a shorter trip is all I have time for. It depends on how much time away from work I can wrangle. I would actually be keen on an arrangement where I do programming work from a laptop for three or four hours a day. Got to do something when the sun goes down, after all.
But I do get the point. If the idea is to work up to a trip like this slowly, there’s still an awful lot of slope left between my current track record and the three-month excursion that a cross-country trip will be. At any point in this preparation, I may decide, “I just don’t feel comfortable enough yet,” and switch down to something shorter. …Because though I have learned an awful lot about keeping myself safe on a long ride, I still have a huge amount to learn.
4. Well now you’re talking a little more sensibly. What more do you need to learn?
I need to refine my bicycle to the point where I can ride it comfortably for many consecutive days. Right now that means getting a better rear rack, raising the handlebars, and possibly finding a better seat. I’ll also need to keep iterating on my equipment: Better luggage bags, a better battery system and software, better clothing, a more complete repair kit, et cetera.
Also, there are dozens of little disasters that can happen on a long-distance trip that haven’t happened to me yet. I need to learn how to deal with all of these if I’m going to enjoy my ride. I need to learn how to deal with the following things when I’m out in the middle of nowhere:
A punctured tube
A ripped up tire
Broken chain links
A damaged rack
Sudden rain
A poor campsite
Loose dogs
Various medical ailments
There are other worse things that can happen – a stolen bike, a broken limb – but those things are what I would consider trip enders. At that point it’s time to flag down a car, find a payphone, and call for rescue.
5. Wouldn’t a lot of this risk be mitigated if you had trip companions?
There is a group of three that is going on a cross-country trip starting on the 19th of May. The route they are planning to follow is almost exactly the route I would choose, though their pace is a little quicker than I would consider ideal. They are also much more experienced than I am with long-distance trips.
The range of time they’ve chosen has the most favorable weather, but it may be too early in the year for me to get adequate time away from work. They’re also all retirees, and I don’t know how they would feel about having a young rookie tag along. I get the impression I’ll want to go slower and take in the sights longer than they will.
That group aside, I know of no one with the same plans. None of my friends seem interested in a trip this ambitious, or if they are interested, they don’t have the time. Have I missed anyone?
6. What about that trip to Nepal you’ve been talking about? Isn’t that in May?
Yes. If that comes together, I’ll probably do that instead of this trip. I don’t have enough time to do both this year. But all the same, I am going to prepare as though the ride is happening.
7. Do you have a preparation itinerary?
It’s slowly congealing. The biggest thing is, I need to attempt more multi-day trips, so I can get used to camping. These will happen over the weekends, and probably consist of me starting my ride at various points around the Bay Area, biking for a while, and then setting up camp for the night unassisted. Then the next day I’d pack up the campsite and ride some more, until I reach a pickup point. Possibilities include (in order of difficulty):
Bike to work, bike home, and camp in the back yard. Then get up, shower, and bike to work again.
Starting from work, bike home, then camp in the back yard. Get up, shower, and bike to the Tech Shop in Menlo Park. Then bike home again.
Starting in San Francisco, bike across the Golden Gate Bridge to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, camp, then bike back across the bridge.
Starting in Carmel, bike south on Highway 1 to the Andrew Molera State Park, camp, then ride back to Carmel.
Starting from work on a weekend morning, bike to Sam McDonald County Park via Alpine Road (over the mountains), camp, then bike to the coast along Pescadero Creek Rd and turn south for as long as I can.
Starting at the top of Highway 9 at Skyline Blvd, head along the crest of the mountains until Skyline turns into Summit Road, then Highland Way. Enter Nisene Marks from the back entrance and stealth-camp at the trailside. Get up at dawn, pack things up, and ride down out of Nisene Marks to Santa Cruz.
8. How are you going to finance this?
It’s really not that expensive. Campsites with showers, supplemented with the occasional motel stay, are a cheap way to spend the night. And of course I spend nothing on gas. It’s all about the food.
9. Speaking of food, how are you going to remain vegan on a cross-country ride?
I honestly don’t know. In all seriousness I may have to go non-vegan not because of any current health considerations but because it’s what the territory demands. I’ve become very used to having fresh fruits and vegetables of great variety, and high-quality oils, and all kinds of vegan possibilities for big chunks of protein and fat. Variety is the keystone of being a healthy vegan. Out there in the world – I’m looking at you, Kansas – there probably isn’t enough variety for me to thrive.
Yes, I find that quite sad. This is the breadbasket of the world, not Alaska. There is absolutely no good reason for the landscape to not be brimming with variety. Instead, the middle states grow endless fields of government-backed wheat, soybeans, and corn, dusted by Monsanto and shoveled into cattle troughs, or made into 100 variations of the same loaf of white bread. It’s an unnecessary plant monoculture. If I’m going to go riding through it, I may end up eating it, and its dairy-based offerings. It has been so many years now that the thought really disturbs me.
If you can’t understand my feeling, imagine this scenario: You’re visiting a foreign country. You shake hands with the hotel concierge and when you open your mouth to say hello, he spits into it. He then stands there, slack-jawed, waiting for you to spit back into his. After a few stunned moments, he closes his mouth, clearly insulted by your lack of etiquette. This same absurd ritual happens with everyone you meet. You keep your mouth tightly closed, … and they just spit on your face instead. You end up insulting everyone, and feeling nauseous all day. The furious bellhop mangles your luggage. The waiters bring your food cold. Taxi drivers call you a boor and charge you double. You realize you can either join the crowd, or remain miserable.
10. Thanks, I needed that image. Thlbtlbthlpt. So how are you gonna deal with it?
Like I said, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll compromise and allow eggs from unknown sources? Or the occasional cheese sandwich? I guess I need to do more research.
11. Can you really do this?
Yes, it is well within my grasp. I just need to make sure I can do it with enough speed so that my employer will allow it. I could easily extend a journey like this into an entire year, by hiking and camping and zig-zagging over the land to catch every bizarre midwestern monument on the map. But at that point I would be unemployed, probably with no chance of getting my old job back. A terrible idea. No, when it comes down to it, my job is more important than this trip.
So today I rode for more than 12 hours, up 5000 feet, through the hills east of San Jose and up to the Lick Observatory at the top of a snow-covered mountain pass, and then back down to my front door. I wanted lots of hills to test out the new crankshaft and gearing on the bike. And I sure did get ’em. Hoohah!
I can do it! I can do anything! Hot damn! Weeoooo!!!
The iPhone camera has some clever software driving it, but compared to my 7-year-old digital, it’s awful. If you tied it to a pole and nailed it down in front of a sunset and left the shutter open for ten minutes, you’d probably STILL get a bunch of gritty crap, like the bottom of a deep-fryer.
Large amounts of carbs becomes very dull after a while. You start dreaming of vegetables, and oily things, and protein. Hour upon hour of Fritos and crackers and peanut butter and chocolate just … sucks. Sounds good at first, sure, but … Not at hour 8.
Ski-glove fingers don’t work with the iPhone. Drat.
Frequent stops, where you get off the bike and sit down, or walk around, are really nice. My ride took more than twelve hours, but since I took so many breaks, I felt fine the whole time.
The more of your body you cover up and keep warm, the warmer the exposed bits of you will be, thanks to the magic of circulation. It’s MAGIC!
The new crankshaft that I had installed on the bike is totally worth it. It makes pedaling up large hills a pleasure, instead of the torture it was before. I don’t have to swerve around on the road anymore. In fact, I now prefer going up hills to going on flat ground – because when you go up a hill, you get somewhere with a view, and a nice fast ride afterwards, and there are generally fewer people around.
I passed an odd French-looking guy on my way across town. He stopped at the same signal light as me, but didn’t turn his head or wave. Serious looking fellow. On Le Serious Businesse, no doubt. His bike looked expensive. He also passed me on his way back down the hill later in the day, while I was still grinding my way up it. He stared, but didn’t wave. The reason I remembered him was not because of his stoic expression; it was because he wasn’t wearing a helmet.
I wanted to stop him and ask, “So, is that a political statement? Are you protesting helmet laws, or helmet makers, or something?” … But he would have probably though I was mocking him. No, I was genuinely curious. Even if I had hard data that my own helmet wouldn’t help me 99 percent of the time, I would still wear the thing because it’s damn cold outside, and the helmet keeps my head warm, is very light, and doesn’t fall off. And on hot days it keeps my scalp from frying. What could his reasons be? His hairstyle maybe?
I saw dozens of cyclists on my ride, and he was the only one without a helmet.
Also, just after dusk, I was passed by a woman going downhill on her bicycle with two lights on her handlebars – one of them flashing – and an extremely bright light on her head, which she pointed straight at me, making me blind. At fist I didn’t know what was coming at me, but whatever it was, it was irritating and I immediately felt angry at whoever was doing it. … Which is not something that you generally want to inspire in people when you’re heading downhill at them on a bicycle. When I saw it was a cyclist doing all that flashing and blinding, I wanted to yell something at her, but she went by too fast for me to think. Oh well.
I passed through an area of road that made me very nervous. It was curvy and had a gentle downhill grade, with thick forest on either side. I felt spooked, and had to pause my BBC documentary podcast about Afghanistan, and just listen to the wind.
The reason I was spooked is that on the 4th of July eight or nine years ago, I was driving my car along this same stretch of road in order to watch the fireworks from the peak at the Observatory, when a mountain lion jumped down from the bushes on the uphill side of the road and began running in front of the car. I slowed down so I wouldn’t hit the beast, and when the car drew close it leapt back off the road, into the foliage.
I did not want anything like that happening while I was on a bicycle. So I stayed in the middle of the road, and started singing “Doctor Worm” at the top of my voice until I was out of the forest. No deer here; just a lunatic human, thank you very much.
I’m going to have to learn how to repair a bike chain, I think. Today the chain slipped off the front gear and got caught under it, wedged around the joint where the axle meets the bike frame. If I’d tried to pedal even one turn, to try and correct it by force, the chain would have broken. Maybe there’s some way I can fix it so that doesn’t happen… A plastic wedge maybe…
While I was tinkering with the chain at the side of the road and getting my fingers all greasy, a guy in an old pickup truck stopped, backed up 20 yards or so, and asked if I needed a ride. I told him that it was a minor repair and that I’d be okay, but “thanks for stopping, though – that’s very good of you!” He said, “Alrighty, then” and drove off.
Hours later, I was stopped at the side of the road making a phone call, and another guy pulled up and asked if I needed help. I said no, but thanked him for stopping, too. Such nice people!
I’m also going to have to learn how to replace a tire. I passed another guy on a bike, who was on his way down the hill, and had his bike turned upside down with one tire off, and the tube out. He was working both his fists around the tube in sections so he could find the leak and patch it. We had a nice chat about the cold and tires and headlights, and he showed me a tiny bag that he kept under his seat, which contained a spare tube and all the tools to install it. “Huh,” I thought, “If the equipment to fix the problem can be that small, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t carry it around.”
I felt sorry for the guy – his hands were frozen stiff from rushing downhill with no gloves on. When I was passing through the preserve area after the sun went down, the air got so cold that my hands were sore just from standing still. If I hadn’t packed those ski gloves, I would have turned around and gone home. Yes! I am actually listening to my own advice! Heh heh heh.
Two sweaters over a long-sleeve shirt, and sweatpants over bike shorts with hiking socks, plus the ski gloves, turns out to be just enough to feel normal in this cold weather. Not hot, not cold. Also, with the bike helmet on, my head stayed warm. Some kind of air current or convection thing going on perhaps.
If anybody out in the world tells you that “vegans are sickly wimps who can’t do anything”, refer them to me. I will pwn them.
Things Mr. Fins needs to do:
Get some kind of abrasion tool and cut a rough notch on the inside of the left pedal arm, so the magnet for my GPS tracker’s “cadence sensor” doesn’t slide all over the place.
