Is the ransom negotiable?

Canada in lots of black and a little white.

2011-09-05T17:21:00.002-04:00

Maritime Signs 2

2011-08-31T17:13:00.002-04:00

At least there is a warning label.

I was in a bad mood about something until I rolled up on this one.

The Canadians like ketchup flavored stuff.

Warning, juggling baby on a unicycle ahead.

WTF?

Seriously?

The dirty rubber glove is a nice touch.

Birthday card for an 89 year old tortoise.

This was posted all over a liquor store in a not so classy neighborhood.

Best Indian food I've had in a long time.

This immobile "Grand Villa" was available to rent overnight.

Hmmmmm?

I think this might be a warning label?

My wife has come out with her own line of soap.

Do we really need to know anything else?

The East End

2011-08-30T13:06:00.000-04:00

Crossing a big bridge out of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Best gravel road ever.

Massive train snow plow.

Deb during a refreshing day of rolling hills.

Cool spot I found while searching for a bathroom.

One of the best campsites of the trip, plus it came with a cool dog.

Random tiny house on the top of a huge cliff overlooking the ocean.

My bud Kiwi Craig going hands free toward the end of a long day.

Super random.

Lucky shot with my point and shoot.

View from the 18 hour ferry ride to Argentia, Newfoundland.

Cool lounge on the ferry, plus the beds were comfortable and the showers were hot.

Bob and Gloria tearing up the dance floor.

The end of the dark clouds in sight.

Information desk on the ferry.

Deb checking out the top deck as the sun set.

Self portrait.

Loading up the bikes on one of four huge cargo decks.

Last campsite of the trip.

Kiwi Craig's bike stored Canadian style.

Yummy dinner at the last camp.

Foggy morning.

Beautiful harbor.

Deb after a wicked steep climb to the hotel.

Deb and I at the top of Signal Hill.

Night view from hotel room.

Morning view from hotel room.

The most amazing paralel parking job ever.

View of the ceiling at a museum in St. John's Newfoundland.

The Mill

2011-08-25T13:51:00.000-04:00

Here's some shots of an incredible sawmill. This place is powered completely by water, from hauling the logs to cutting them into planks. I didn't get much info on the operation because they were closing for the day. I did learn that they provide the lumber for the local village.

Signs of the Maritimes 1

2011-08-24T06:29:00.000-04:00

"Please do not go in to labor on the side of the road."

"See how far you can throw stuff."

Cool little pub in Quebec City.

Hot tub with slide below.

Fredericton to Halifax Nova Scotia

2011-08-21T16:50:00.000-04:00

Impressive bike lane with its own traffic lights in St John NS (not St. John's Newfoundland).

Thickest fog I've ever seen, for three hours on the ferry to Digby.

Ferry was big enough for 18 wheelers and other giant trucks.

Random church. Most of the beautiful churches were passed during a rain shower.

Deb zipping down a super steep hill that she didn't enjoy climbing up.

Power generating station that harnesses tidal energy.

Fishing boat on the Bay of Fundy. The boats are rigged with stands when they get into port so they don't tip over when the 40 foot tides go out.

Fishing boats on the Bay of Fundy.

Another yummy meal at camp.

Sunset at camp.

Hitchhiker.

Fancy lawn mower.

Cows and riders.

Moss covered camp, looked like BC.

Another epic 90k gravel road.

Craig and Deb posing.

Quack, quack.

Hotel in Halifax.

Museum frog.

Deb, Gus and I. Gus is the oldest gopher tortoise in the world and he happens to live in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Gus is 89 years old.

Deb and Gus.

Gus!

A day in the city.

The most amazing garden ever.

Add caption

Off we go...

2011-08-16T16:34:00.001-04:00

Best tunnel ever. The colors changed and danced around as you walked under the runway in Detroit.

The clean colorful side of Detroit.

Tour staff welcoming crew.

Cute little motel in Levis, Quebec.

Flags on the ferry to Quebec City.

Quebec City is more European than Europe.

Great little pub where I ate dinner with Deb and Kiwi Craig.

View of Quebec City from the ferry.

Farm house in the country during a brief break from two days of rain.

Great looking marina on the St Laurence River

View of a dam from lunch.

One of the 5,000 stunning churches we pass each day.

View of the St Laurence River from camp.

Farmland across from a camp.

The fading storm, finally!!!

Sunset on a St Laurence River marsh.

Steepest hill on earth.

Giant lake near a camp.

Spider web near an epic gravel path thats hundreds of miles long.

Best carrot cake on earth, with edible flower pedals.

Typical bridge on a Canadian bike path.

Great Falls, supposedly more water than Niagara falls...

Campsite one night.

Deb and I on a one lane covered bridge.

Longest covered bridge in the world (seriously).

Typical barn and non stop green.

Deb and Kiwi Jim relaxing at our best campsite so far.

Deb taking care of our home.

Bike church.

Canadian Geese in Canada, who knew?

Moooooooo.....

Waffle Sunday

2011-07-01T18:52:00.002-04:00

The stack of waffles I made were consumed without the burden of a schedule, just a clear mind and the option to do nothing. About 30 minutes after my third waffle the non-scalding weather conditions and a free schedule got me antsy and I suggested a quick bike ride to Lake Overstreet. Before long my wife and I were peddling out the door. My waffle Sunday had transitioned into a bike ride with an unexpected partner.

I didn't know it at the time but it was the first time Deb and I spontaneously went on a ride together. There was no planning for location, time or distance we jumped on the bikes and that was it. A lack of planning offered an endless option of turns and trails and it didn't matter when we had to turn around because it was waffle Sunday. The weather and free time combination had transformed my cycling relationship with my wife. For the first time our ride had no purpose, no clipless pedal training no technical trial training just a ride.

The weather stayed on our side the entire ride and it never got too hot. If you ask Deb, she would say it was blazing hot the entire time but she never complained about it. The power line route was shaded and relatively dry, the Maclay trails were in good shape and the Phipps property was packed down and fast, even the portion of Redbug we rode wasn't too bad. We even saw a scary looking Trapdoor Spider looking for a meal, these guys look like medium sized tarantulas and will no doubt catch your attention if you see one.

Although we were powered by waffles, they will only sustain you for a certain span of time and Deb surpassed the maximum miles per waffle on our way back up from the Lake Jackson lakebed. I was near the top of the steep gravel section of the climb when I heard the crash. I coasted down to the survey the damage and I found Deb sitting next to her bike covered in leaves and not looking very happy. She had teatered over going up the loose gravel when she lost her will to continue however she was certainly not the first person to crash at that exact spot. When she told me she had no interest in getting up I realized that she just had her first bonk and she handled it better than my 100th. I zipped ahead to the tennis clubhouse and bought some Gatorade and pretzels for a recharge and 10 minutes later she was fine despite her anxiety over having to climb the power line hill next to get home.

Power Line Hill

Our fun ride ended safely and with plenty of laughs, some of which came from me making fun of the leaves stuck to her skin. Deb's food fantasies grew to a point where she had to go to the grocery store to satisfy them. Sadly it was the day of 4 inches of rain and 8,000 lightning strikes so our kitchen was without power well into the night and we were stuck with some crummy Vietnamese take out. Sorry Deb...

I can't wait to ride with my new riding partner again.

Lucky 13

2011-06-27T07:52:00.004-04:00

A large portion of the United States has no idea what a Beer Mile is and until yesterday I was part of that population. My ignorance of the event kept me safely within my Gatorade and Powerbar nutrition bubble. There is however a large subculture of runners who celebrate the beer mile and look forward to competing each year. Andy Roberts is the local who keeps Tallahassee on the Beer Mile map within his quiet yet supportive neighborhood.

First timers club. Notice the girl on the left is drinking non-alcoholic beer, and who's Mountain Dew's are those, cheaters!

The Beer Mile on the surface quite simple, drink 12 ounces of canned beer, run a quarter mile, then do it three more times. Some folks think wow, that’s easy it’s not much drinking and not much running. Other folks (me) wonder how that much beer can fit into a stomach in such a short span of time. I cannot tell you where the beer goes but I can tell you what it’s like to finish third from last and what runner #13 saw from the back.

The many faces of the Beer Mile from ignorance to the final beer.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the heart rate monitors and GPS enabled watches. The drinkers lined up at the start with a beer in their watch hand so they could start a timer with their empty hand. The course was an out and back quarter mile and was great for runners and spectators alike.

Once the starting gun went off everyone but me ripped open their beers and started chugging, sadly I bite my nails and I don’t drink canned beer so my buddy Keith opened mine while his head was tilted back draining his own. Within in seconds everyone was off except for me half a beer and the girl next to me with the same wild eyed look in her eyes wondering how we will finish our beers. A few obscene belches later we took off as the first batch of runners were already cracking their second beer. Once my new race buddy and I had nearly completed our first quarter a car zoomed past us and we thought nothing of it because we were dreading the second beer, and we made pact to come in last place together to avoid the individual shame.

The car with the future winner on board.

I reluctantly grabbed my second Pabst Blue Ribbon from the beer table and managed to open it with out assistance, fueled by the memory of the crowd rolling their eyes at me and my wife shaking her head in shame. The second beer started out as awful as the first but a jaw dropping distraction took my mind off it for a moment. The occupant of the speeding car that past on my first lap contained an elite Beer Mile competitor. While I was keeled over in pain forcing 12 more ounces of gas inducing yellow liquid Ashley franticly laced up her running shoes, unpacked her beer and moments later her first can was empty and her heels were a blur. Despite me wishing her the stomach ache of the century I couldn’t help but be impressed. A few hundred belches later my last place companion and I finished our beers and headed off.

I was so preoccupied with wondering where all the beer will fit that I forgot about the oncoming effects. The alcohol first became apparent when my calves felt as if they were shaking violently; could this be where the beer is going? The ensuing apathy and vile off-gassing were the only other indicators.

Our fallen heros.

The third lap was much like the first two, other than there were runners everywhere and no way to know who was coming or going. After I was passed by the drinker with a running problem for second time the crowd blew up and I knew there was a shake up in progress. I arrived behind my last place companion to a completely empty beer table other than my lonely PBR surrounded by runners with hands on knees trying not to vomit and folks looking weak and green who had one more lap to go. Thanks to my dangerously high blood alcohol level and inspiration from the mystery girl who drinks cans of beer faster than I can shoot down a tequila shot, I got my second wind and downed my last beer before the other last place contenders took their hands off their knees. I even managed to overtake a couple runners on the last lap to safely keep me out of last place contention.

Momma, the trees are talking to me.

As expected the late girl kicked everyone’s butt and despite not starting at the official time and whether it was their 4 beers or lack of courage, nobody had the strength to look weak enough to contest her dominating 8:06 beer mile.

Andy the race director admiring Ashley's steller beer drinking speed. (update: after video analysis her best beer drinking time was 16 seconds)

I’ve participated in lots of difficult endurance events in my time and I’ve never considered quitting before the beer mile. Good thing I knew what was next, a pile of friends, food and an outdoor screening of Zombieland while bobbing in a pool.

Everyone who was not hanging on to a tree for support.

Photo Credits: Deborah Burr

Back to my new old home.

2011-06-17T14:47:00.001-04:00

Judging by the length of the beard in the mirror, it was time to come off tour to adjust to one bed and one kitchen. My journey was as great as you would expect and even better in the unexpected. I've been asked what my favorite part was, and at first I could not imagine what it might be. It turns out my favorite part of the trip were the people. Who would have thought that a hermit would enjoy the company of so many strangers?

There were only 2 American riders out of 25 and this provided an abundant variety of accents and personalities. Nearly everyone was from a post colonial country and learning the differences and similarities of each nation's quest for independence and the treatment of their native population was very interesting. The differences in vocabulary was a lot of fun as well, words like knickers, cheerio and physio. My favorite word was "tramping" this is what Kiwi's use in place of backpacking, in Nzed (another new word) backpacking is what kids do in Europe when they travel on trains with backpacks. Everyone on the trip had great conversation to offer in one way or another and nobody was a drag to get stuck next to.

My favorite quote of the trip came from Jim, he told me I was good to be around because I always had a smile on my face and something positive to say. Those of you who are close to me are probably just as shocked by that statement as I was. After a brief conversation with Paul we decided that Jim is so positive and even keeled that he has some sort of negativity Kryptonite that overwhelms my grumpy powers.

While my cup is half full I should mention all the tough moments on the trip either from weather, giant hills or dealing with 500 tiny problems at once have nearly vanished and have been replaced with memories of all of my great new friends.

Bike touring is so much more enjoyable than I ever thought possible, if you really want to learn about a town and everything between it and the next one, a bike is the best way to do it. Subtle differences in terrain and vegetation are appreciated mile by mile. The climbs get bigger and smaller and road conditions that would go unnoticed in a car are always appreciated. My solo ride through Joshua Tree National Park was a highlight and experience that could never be duplicated in a car. The park's smooth pavement and bumpy jeep trails made for an epic ride and every change in the soil and rocks left my mind wondering. The next time I go I want a geologist and biologist at my side to answer the endless string of questions that come to mind.

Now all I have to do is decide what style of beard I want to sport when I go back on tour in Canada this August.

Parting Shots

2011-06-16T16:51:00.000-04:00

Typical bike parking

Epic dirt road in Joshua Tree

Our fearless leader after getting the van unstuck.

My desert office.

Giant chair in the desert.

Beautiful plant at a lunch stop.

Self portrait a couple days out of Flagstaff.

Flowers I noticed when I was making a roadside repair.
A long day of bike noises rattled my nerves.

I few riders struggling up the beginning of a very long climb.

Sedona, AZ

Bottom of a big climb out of Sedona.

Zoom in and check out these switchbacks, unfortunately
there were two more hours of climbing after these.

My final destination obligatory self-portrait..

Lava fields near Flagstaff.

Aspens growing in lava.

1000 year old tribal hangout circle.

The Grand Canyon

My new friend.

Signage from 29 Palms to Flagstaff

2011-06-16T11:17:00.000-04:00

They do both hair styles, flat tops and marine cuts.

One of many murals in 29 Palms

Uhhhh, no comment.

Book store in the middle of the Mojave.

Cool RV town that's a ghost town in the summer.

Outstanding motel we camped at.

I never did figure out what this meant.

My final destination.

A great Thai meal I had in Flagstaff.

A sign made just for me.

Back in Black

2011-06-13T18:46:00.000-04:00

Their English department has plenty to be hopeful for.

2011-06-11T23:10:00.000-04:00

Mojave The Hair Dryer

2011-06-10T21:12:00.000-04:00

Today was the first challenging day of the trip and rather than tell you about it , I'm going to give you a run down of a typical day when it's not 102 with a 40 mph hair dryer attempting to shred your tent or cook a computer in the shade. However, I must mention I'm in the middle of freaking nowhere and my phone is giving me a super fast wifi internet connection. (if I had a desk I would be nearly at home, minus my my wife, home, cats, water and sub triple digit temperatures).

Normally a wildly shaking tent would be annoying but today it means the wind is blowing and that is a blessing. My clothes are stiff as cardboard from salt and this makes it easier to get the proper leg in the proper hole.

Typical morning: Wake at 5:30, it's not hard because the sun wakes you up 20 minutes before this. Help set up the breakfast, this includes watching water boil and laying out the yogurt, fruit, muesli and other yummy fixings while adding to the coffee stash which was started well before the morning circus.

Next I break down my tent and camping gear and load it into a van and load up my bike with emergency group gear, cameras, water and food. From camp I either "sweep" or "flag." Flagging is when I leave early and flag the route with surveyors tape for the riders to follow and sweeping is when I'm the last rider of the day and I make sure nobody has decided to call it a day on the side of the road. I enjoy the sweeping because I can take all the photos I want and still make it to camp as the last riders que in.

On the road anything can happen, most of the time I am cruising beautiful scenery and constantly taking photos. Sometimes I'm freezing, sometimes I'm melting but most of the time I'm having a great time meeting piles of inquisitive people as I go, who are just as excited about my journey as I am. How do you tell someone you are riding you bike from San Francisco to Newfoundland when you are heading south? Roling with the riders is a lot of fun but I'm most often either way ahead or behind them or far behind. A normal day on the road is about 6 hours with lots of stops for photos and snacks. My shortest ride was 40 miles, my longest 120.

About 75% through each day the lunch van has set up a lunch with sandwiches snaks and fruits. Lunch is often a quick but never a trivial affair. If you mix short day and a beautiful lunch spot things can last a while. Conversation usually revolves around how many kilometers until the next climb, how far away the next camp is and how many snakes will crawl through. The further away the next camp and the higher the next climb the more subdued things become.

Once in camp I set up my gear and assist with the kitchen and sorting out the dinner and lunch vans, once a few formalities are taken care of I grab a beer and relax with the riders or set off to take more photos. A lot of my time is spent socializing and seeing how everyone is doing, 98% everyone is doing great.

Dinner is always outstanding, I would need an entire blog post to discrib to you just half of how great dinners are. Chicken, steak, avocado dishes and every fresh fruit and vegetable California can dish out and that's in the hundreds. I'm going to make Indian food for everyone within a day or two (with the supervision of the chef/my boss I'll keep you posted...

Around 7:30 we all go to bed and the party animals that drank too much beer stay up until 7:55.

I'm most certainly leaving out a lot of details. If anyone out there in blogland has a question or blog theme in mind, I'll pay you for it when I get home, I'm a bit lean on ideas these days.

Metamorphosis

2011-06-09T22:43:00.000-04:00

Nick getting air at Dam Camp

My tent mate

My tent mates after being relocated

Source of the all day rain.

First bit of sunlight in two days.

It was at this point I was convinced I would no longer get rained on.

Dam Camp

Kiwi Craig thawing after a swim.

Someone pimped my ride.

I love this shot.

The remnants of rain trickling into the desert from the mountains.

Uber cool burrowing owl burrows, look these guys up they are beautiful.

Early morning scouting trip.

Lunch

Two hours into my climb into Joshua Tree National Park.

Super sweet dirt road excursion in search of an abandoned mine.

Desert watermelon thing, they look like dinosaur eggs when they dry out and crack.

Sign Language

2011-06-08T21:18:00.000-04:00

This was worth a walk in the rain.

Not how I pictured the north pole.

Is there a money back guarantee?

Some of our route flagging tape (read sign).

Not far from Wiggy Ranch

Honor system avocado stand.

My wife's waste disposal empire.

I'd like to meet the folks who live here.

Good place to trade my bike shoes for my running shoes.

I can figure out the "P" but what is that other stuff?

I guess pedophiles need attorneys too?

Hungarian food in the desert anyone?

I have a few friends that should buy this.

Edwards AFB was a big part of my childhood airplane obsession.

This is real.

Words

2011-06-05T20:16:00.001-04:00

Tent Blogging

I haven't spent any time describing my trip so far because it's much easier to post photos than write but the weather has forced this opportunity. The rain has me cooped up in my tent 10 miles east of Ojai, California while the rest of the staff and riders socialize under trees, tents and awnings. So far it's been quite cold but no so bad that it makes things uncomfortable, unless an exceptionally long decent is tossed into the ride.

Since meeting up with everyone in San Francisco things have got better and better. California is so beautiful and the people I have met are very friendly, people here don't even throw their trash in the street (this sure ain't the south). The roads north of Santa Barbara are truly cycling nirvana, no glass, courteous drivers and more bike lanes and bike paths than I ever thought existed. Now that I'm a week into the tour I've settled into a rhythm of riding, flagging the route, setting up camp, sleeping, breaking down camp then riding again. Some days seem long and others pretty short. I've stayed in some great campsites and tonight is no exception. One night the campground had heated bathrooms and a few community fires going, each filled with happy families with lots of questions about our trip.

Wonderful family who fed me and provided endless conversation.

Eucalyptus trees have lined our route bathing us with their sweet smell and beautiful looks. Most riding days have moderate milage, typically under 80 miles of rolling terrain, others have a few long climbs. Aside from the day I got rained on for hours through Big Sur, the toughest day was our reroute to bypass a massive landslide on US1. We had to pass over the mountains into the valley and head south then pass back over them to get back to the coast adding an extra 30 miles to the day. Unfortunately I missed a turn and ended up with 115 miles and 5000 feet of climbing.

Chef Jon

In the food department, things could not get much better Chef Jon, loads us up with outstanding meals at camp that rival most restaurants. I can actually hear sizzling from the kitchen now and my stomach is growling. I will be kept in suspense because my requests for tonight's menu have been responded to with snarky remarks that I certainly deserve.

Tomorrow will be my first day off the coast heading east toward Joshua Tree trading the cold weather for hot. I can't wait to finally see J Tree, I've wanted to go there my whole life and there's not a better way to visit than on a bike.

Santa Barbara freak show hippy van.

At least I'll be climbing all day....

2011-06-04T21:06:00.000-04:00

999 Words

2011-06-04T18:52:00.000-04:00

Interesting cloud in wine country.

Super deluxe bike path in Monterey with a passing lane.

Not so fresh laundry

Hard at work while freezing.

My trusty stead.

Chef Jon fixing another perfect dinner.

View from campsite under US1

I think we passed through Afganistan.

This guy churned up so much dust it got in my closed camera bag.

Dinner in the field.

Interesting white man cult god at a hippy center.

View of the endless chain of bike paths and bike parking at UC Santa Barbara.

Cool sun rainbow thing.

View from my nap.

Signs Part 1

2011-06-04T13:43:00.000-04:00

Somewhere between camp and Santa Barbara

Hide the children.

The directions that hurt me in SF.

View from dinner

I love this design

Not sure how many people rode over the cliff before they added the barrier.

One of many landslide repairs.

How much do mussel inspectors make?

I'm pretty sure this is a cult compound, not a town.

Fallow artichoke field.

"historic" gas station in Santa Barbara.

It's probably best that I keep my trap shut with this one.

Gusty was an unstatement.

Yummy oatmeal raison cookie.

One of many brightly colored items in a Mexican grocery store.

Just captions...

2011-05-30T23:34:00.000-04:00

Nice shot of the bridge after getting rained on.

Nice light.

Nick and I after shopping for warm clothes.

Memorial Day flags in Monterey.

Yummy strawberries.

White tire artichoke farm.

Ponte something California.

California yard bird

First night on the road, at a perfect campsite with heated bathrooms.

Dinner at camp.

Flowers from the exotic ice plant.

Lunch.

Tour members.

Source of the best coffee I've ever had.

If I ain't a city boy, does that make me country?

2011-05-29T02:12:00.001-04:00

I wrapped up my play time with family and friends in SF by trading in the comforts of a home for the bike touring lifestyle. When my cousin dropped me off downtown I felt just as nervous as I did when my parents dropped me off at college 19 years ago. Fortunately the piles of new faces and names were each as friendly as the next.

Actually, there was a little adventure between my transition. My writing skills can't describe what a maze like city plus Mt. Everest sized hills can inflict on a guy like me but I'm pretty sure I had PTSD for 6 hours. I'm not sure how this happened in the most bike friendly city in the US, but I'll blame it on bad timing and the position of the moon. Stairs instead of sidewalks, the hills are natures way of saying, you shouldn't build here.

Once settled in Mike and I scouted a safe route out of town which consisted of even more hills but this time there were cyclist everywhere and beautiful views of the Pacific. Back at the hotel I met most of the tour participants of the 25 only one of them is from the states. It's pretty funny to see the dynamic between nations, so far the Kiwi's are the coolest folks.

Today we did a quick ride up to San Rafael, who knew that California had so many bike paths that you actually have to pick the right one?

Ok, it's too late for anything other than photos, see you in the country.

Panda Hats & The TSA

2011-05-25T22:56:00.002-04:00

Tahoe

The night before my big trip, Delta Airlines called me during dinner to let me know they had canceled my flight because they may need the plane for something else. I'm still not sure what that something else could be, maybe someone's kid was contemplating bringing it in for show and tell. A few phone calls later I was told to report to the airport at 8:45 and tell them my name and everything would be taken care of. Seriously!? When I arrived at the empty counter the lady asked if I wanted a window seat and sent me on my way, at that point I was positive I was getting a late April Fools surprise party. Instead, I got seat 1A which 'm pretty sure is typically reserved for rocks stars. Things were looking good, so why were 3 stern TSA folks walking toward me? After a full body pat-down with horrified passengers looking on I was free to go. Later my luggage had a note in it saying it also had been searched (nice gesture don't you think). I guess a oneway ticket and a beard raises a few flags these days.

Step two of my flight was also a bit interesting. I had no ticket, gate number or flight number in Atlanta so I tracked down the only flight to San Fran. The gate was easy to find, it was the stall surrounded by an angry mob who hated all things Delta. Once I shoved my way through I told the worn out guy at the counter that I was Cliff and I wanted to get on the plane, he said, "sure I remember your name" and handed me my ticket. Fortunately passengers are not allowed to carry pitchforks through security or I would not be here today. I later learned that the mob had good reason to dislike Delta and me, the plane had been boarded then de-boarded and in the process the lucky got different seats and the unlucky were booted off the flight to wait four hours for the one. Things were once again looking good, this time it got better. Once on board, the folks next to me were shuffled over and I got a hold of a window seat and new seat neighbors who turned out to be friends of the family who's generosity and conversation made the five hour flight feel like two.

Arastradero Preserve

Thanks to my long time friend Colleen, I was running on sweet California singletrack within an hour of getting off the plane on trails packed with great views, blooming flowers and piles of wildlife. The hills were brutal compared to what I’m used to but the 60 degree bug free weather distracted me from noticing. It was on that run it became clear why people pay so much to live out here.

Downtown SF

My long easy travel day was capped off at a San Francisco Giants game with hot dogs, beer and people watching, chilled to bone by a typical frigid summer night. By the end of the game I was cold enough to contemplate stealing one of the thousands of giant fuzzy panda beanies I was ridiculing people for wearing; instant karma I suppose.

The Sunny Side

2011-05-20T15:57:00.001-04:00

Post 5k Sunset

Most social situations I enter are a product of coercion via email and relentless phone calls. The lastest conspirator was Andy Roberts.

I'm perfectly content with being a closet runner, I enjoy not knowing how slow I really am. On the bike my ego forces me to fake being fast when I need to, because I was briefly considered speedy years ago. The thing I love about running is that I'm pretty average and if I train very hard on a strict schedule I will still be average. I absolutely love that I'm never tempted to over extend myself and get a silly avoidable injury.

Now that I have a few years of uninterrupted running in my legs I'm a little more comfortable branching out and running with humans rather than with my bobcat and turkey friends. Despite my urge to run with people every once in a while, I'm not going to do anything about it. Here's where Andy comes in.

There's a fast 5k run every Thursday at the Miccosukee Greenway that Andy never misses, the group that forms this run has been meeting long enough that the starting line tree has died and been discarded by the park service. Each run is capped off with a splash of water to cool off and a large cooler of beer (water is optional). I know this sounds fun but getting crushed by runners spanning in age from 22 to late 50's and being the interloper in this tightly knit group is intimidating to me.

This week Andy finally talked me into running the hilly gauntlet of trails and grass. The one mile warmup was nice and easy, everybody chit chatted and poked fun of their friends and this helped settle my nervous stomach. Once we hit the starting line where the tree once stood the explosion of speed I was expecting never took place, in fact the acceleration happened so slow that I didn't realize that the top tier runners were way ahead of me until a minute or two later. To my surprise I was able to hang with a couple folks I knew despite running up a half mile grassy climb with the sun beating down. When we cut back in the woods I was still hanging on, oddly I would fall back on the descents and catch up on the climbs. On the final stretch I drifted off the back while my two pacers built up their gap during the steep up hill finish.

At the finish I was greeted by strangers smiling and shaking my hand. The fun conversations continued throughout our warm down back to the trailhead while I glowed in the satisfaction that I smashed my 5k PR. A half a beer later I was hanging out with a pile of new friends watching the sunset.

How much is enough?

2011-05-18T15:36:00.002-04:00

My Lynskey racked up with big gears.

The past two weeks I've been contemplating nearly every aspect of my upcoming bike trip from San Francisco to the Grand Canyon. What will the steep chilly mountains and the hot flat desert dish out and what sort of gear will assist in my comfort? How many lenses is enough, would an extra camera body come in handy, two pairs of long pants or one?

After a string of sleepless nights pondering details and a couple spending sprees on Amazon and Sierra Trading Post I'm geared up and ready for whatever these 1000 miles dish out. Protective computer case, extra batteries, a couple new pairs of bike shorts and an ~~11-28~~ 11-32 cog set (was the 11-28 enough?).

Now that I'm in the packing phase of the trip and I can see all my outdoor gear in one place I notice a couple of very important things I failed to see. First of all, I have too much gear. Secondly I failed to notice a long list of necessities to complete this trip that I already had, like a cool job, great wife, a supportive family and a large pile of great friends. It's too bad the important stuff wont fit in my bags.

Now I know I've always had enough.

Boyz in the Hood

2009-12-22T10:04:00.002-05:00

Regardless of how open minded or tough you are when you cross the tracks, you know you are on the other side. There’s a section of the rail trail I’ve always avoided, a sketchy highway for miscreants paved with broken glass. The path is essentially a 2 mile pit nestled between cesspools and housing projects masked with kudzu to give it a natural appearance.

This Sunday Silk and I figured it was cold enough that the dirtbags would be hunkered over burning tires and staying out of trouble. We decided not to exit the trail at the usual safe zone and continue north toward home. Early in to our crossing we stopped to admire the discolored scum and trash floating in the holding ponds on either side of us and throw on an extra layer of clothes. While I was taking pond scum photos Silk noticed some sketchy activity further up the trail. The locals scattered into their vine covered hideout when we got back on our bikes.

As we approached the area were the dirtbags fled a mangled bike left behind set off alarm bells in my head, I told Silk to look high and I would look low to detect a possible ambush. Without warning a large wooden table leg crashes to the ground in front of me, when I turned to see where it came from another one was flying through the air at us. I no longer wonder where the director of the Matrix got his idea to have spinning objects moving through the air while everything else is in suspended animation. The second table leg was launched from 20 feet above and spun between us missing Silk’s head and my arms by inches. Once out of range we turned to face our attackers, two smug ghetto kids atop an iron fence.

Although I couldn’t get to them, my solace was knowing they were stuck in the ghetto and bad things would happen to them down the road, hopefully sooner than later. My anger slowly morphed into sadness thinking about those kids, there’s a good chance they have a terrible home life without roll models and very few opportunities in life. They were trapped but I got to retreat to a safe comfortable home.

Where would all of us be if we were born into poverty or neglect? Be sure to give your family extra hugs the next time you see them and thank them them for what you are.

Fungus Among Us

2009-12-18T08:56:00.000-05:00

Found some cool fungi walking through the woods with Silk yesterday, some were the size of basketballs.

It's hard to do the right thing.

2009-12-15T17:42:00.001-05:00

I couldn’t dig up the urge to ride, and my hunkered down riding partners were no help.

The pedals had been off my bike for nearly two weeks.

It was going to rain any second.

The trails were muddy and covered in wet roots.

The relative humidity was well over 325%

I pulled the trigger.

I got a flat.

Chased by a rabid dog.

Sweat like it was August.

Spare tube leaked like a sieve.

I had a fun ride.

Start

2009-12-15T08:57:00.000-05:00

The Road Less Traveled

2009-12-11T14:15:00.005-05:00

The early enjoyment curve in outdoor activities can be steep, fly fishing for example is at the bottom and walking in a city park is somewhere near the top. Outside of a stroll through the park, you have to pay to play. For years I’ve casually run a few times a month when I was injured and had to stay off the bike or when I was pressed for time. The anxiety before during and after each slog would stick with me as a stomach ache for a couple days. Last summer I took running up a notch by assigning the word training to it, running four days a week and signing up for an off road 20k. I didn’t enjoy training throughout the Tallahassee summer but oddly I didn’t hate it either.

This week in Arizona running was transformed from a means to burn calories to an activity I can get excited about. There was a desert wash behind the house I was staying in that was about 150 yards wide, covered in every imaginable spiky plant and seemed to stretch endlessly in either direction. I spent about half an hour birding in the wash and after adding 4 species to my life list (a very big deal) I was still not content, I needed to know where the wash would take me. So I through on a pair of running shoes and ran down the wash. The high desert vegetation and rocky terrain masked any hunger or exhaustion that I may have had, something was changing inside me. I wondered if this was a feeling I could duplicate and was excited to find out.

The next day my transformation in the wash was still at the front of my mind during a stunning hike up Sabino Canyon. During my hike I was constantly distracted by how much fun it would be to ditch my cameras, bird books, food and water and just run. The next morning I rushed back to the canyon to run, it turned out to be one of my best outdoor experiences. The base of the canyon which was dusty and dry the day before was submerged and lined with waterfalls gurgling its latest soundtrack. Now I'm a believer; there is a path up the enjoyment curve for runners.

Running as a fun activity to look forward to, who knew?

Bike Shopping

2009-12-11T09:09:00.004-05:00

What are you hungry for?

2009-12-03T09:10:00.001-05:00

I’ve never taken much pleasure from food, it’s one of the many reasons I don't relate well with my fellow humans. As a child I wanted to live off of an intravenous drip and not bothered with meal time (this explains my love of Gu packs). Can you imagine restaurants and food shows if everyone was like me? There would be breakfast drips, snack drips and my favorite the vodka and tonic drip. I would never bonk again if my camel back was intravenous, if I saw a long hill ahead of me I would dial up the flow to 11.

There have been times I’ve eaten something so wonderful that all I could do was grunt sounds of satisfaction, I remember those 3 meals and I doubt it will happen again anytime soon. My consistently satisfying intravenous drip would sure beat what scavengers and the average American eat for dinner. I wonder if vultures have a preferred state of decay when eating carrion, are they disappointed when road kill is too fresh? Does a properly decomposed alligator offer the same stroke of luck as a fat guy catching the hot doughnut sign lit up?

A stranger in the night.

2009-12-01T20:47:00.005-05:00

Fall arrived last night like a formula one pit stop in reverse, swapping out the new with the old in a blink of an eye.

Yesterday I sweat a bit on my sunny ride through lush green trails on the north side of town grateful of Florida’s immunity to the dull colors of winter. By the end of the day the clouds rolled in and I gloated knowing the rest of the cycling world was destine for an uncomfortable night ride in the rain and wind.

This morning I woke up Little Ball to catch a ride between storms. After a freezing coast down the hill we hit the woods and were pulled from the bikes by the Fall colors carpeting the trail. I didn't recall a single leaf on the ground the day before. Caught off guard by the overnight transformation, our tires crunched through fresh piles of leaves hiding the trail and muting any attention to heart rates, speed or wet roots. Slices of trail were covered in sheets of large yellow leaves casting temporary sun beams despite the clouds. Even the irritating din of dried leaves caught in my wheels was incapable of muting the the rapid Fall I never saw coming.

Gangs Are Fun

2009-11-22T18:36:00.001-05:00

The boys and I took a brief moment off the bike to pose for this shot half way through our ride. If you have a cross bike and don't mind a little pain you should be in our group photo next Sunday (unless you're the guy holding the camera).

Yellow is The New Black

2009-11-20T09:51:00.000-05:00

There’s a debate brewing about which sprint signs are legal for earning points. Often the losing party disagrees with the excessive number of sprint points I acquire during cross rides. UCI states that stop ahead, county line and state line signs are the only sanctioned sprint locations. However section 24, article 7b, line 3 states that a race director may designate his or her own sprint locations with any preexisting yellow along the course. That translates to, “I can call the shots.” I’ve put on a race before therefore I've been a race director and I see no reason why that title will ever be stripped of me.

Remember the 627 yellow reflectors on the road I beat you to, they count. The tiny stripe of yellow on a for sale sign, and yes the florescent yellow chewing gum stuck to the road counts to.

Let me know when you are ready to play fair.

Share your theme song with the world.

2009-11-17T09:39:00.006-05:00

Bust out your favorite mix tape and listen up.

Zombies controlled by white wires snaked through their ear holes have invaded the trails. The antisocial bubbles bouncing through the single track are missing out on half of the trail experience. Why tune out when they could listen to chirping birds, foraging critters and my ringing bell signaling to get the the hell out of my way?

I'm not a big fan humans so I'm a prime candidate for cramming itty-bity speakers in my ears, but that's big reason I head to the woods. For the folks who want the complete aural package it's time to take a lesson from the streets and our forefathers who performed the worm and head spins. The only way to get the sounds of nature and Run-DMC is to strap a ghetto blaster to your bike and start a rolling block party. Leave the ipod at home and share your theme song with the world. If you get whipped by your friends on a group ride, challenge them to a dance off at the next water stop to regain your honor.

Giddy Up

2009-11-15T17:16:00.000-05:00

There’s lots of things I’ve never seen in the Apalachicola National Forrest; an ivory billed woodpecker, alien spacecraft and pretty women are on the list. Jimbo led Silk and I on long swift dirt road ride through the forest today. The route passed the usual selection of wildlife, mobile meth labs and sand. Early on the ride we crossed paths with a couple cowboys guiding their horses down a dirt road somewhere between a swamp and pine trees. As expected the horses were spooked by our bikes so we pulled over to let them pass. The friendly riders mentioned their horses had never seen bikes before and thanked us for stopping. With a strait face the locals headed on their way telling us the cause of their horses alarm was seeing us with turtles on our heads.

I wonder what the next thing I’ve never seen will be?

How to Break a Fall

2009-11-13T08:49:00.000-05:00

Each year I grumble a bit about the lack of color Fall brings to Tallahassee. Last year I took a trip to Boston to see colors reserved exclusively for magazine covers and the rest of the country. The supernatural leaves exceeded my expectations and led to further grumbling upon my return to Florida.

Yesterday I spent some time riding in the woods searching for a reason to take my camera out. While editing photos I finally realized that Fall in North Florida is superior to a northeastern Fall. Brilliant green leaves, bright yellow birds plus plenty of colorful berries and flowers. What really makes Florida colors the best around is that they morph all winter with fresh wild flowers sprinkled on top every few days.

The brief flash of warm colors in the northeast are a signal that your time outside is over so you better bust out a parka, snow shovel and TV guide. If the leaves changed colors here it would be a sign that blood sucking critters are gone and all of your time should be spent outside.

You folks in the north can keep your pretty leaves; I’ll buy the magazine when it comes out.

Water Bug

2009-11-07T21:27:00.000-05:00

My running’s been hacked apart by plantar fasciitis and mountain bike life on a single speed has left me spun out and looking for speed. Finally the bug bit and the itch was scratched. A tow from my rut was provided by my new water cross bike and it's just what the podiatrist ordered. My handcrafted titanium frame with a 54cm top tube, sculpted shamrock dropouts and the perfect buoyancy for long open rides kicked my motivation into high gear (46 x 12 to be exact). Tomorrow’s a fun ride to Georgia; I wonder which sweater I should wear.

Choice & Consequence

2009-11-05T17:28:00.000-05:00

The event in my backyard that laid to rest my expensive prescription glasses involved gas powered tools and is a story for another day. The loss was a blow to my ego, I've never lost a pair of glasses and still own my first pair. I tossed in my sleep throughout the night dreading the cost of replacement, eventually accepting their demise and my expense.

My luck turned this morning when I saw dew covered lenses in the middle of my backyard. Not only did I get my glasses back, I can spend the small pile of cash I saved by dodging the replacement pair. I'm torn between letting the money get sour and wilted in a bank vault or put it to use by purchasing a small portion of a Lynskey cyclocross frame hanging up at GBS.

Certainly my fiance does not have a hidden pillory in her yard?

Transformation

2009-11-03T08:37:00.000-05:00

Cohabitation is when people live together in an emotionally intimate relationship. The term is most frequently applied to interracial tortoise-hippo couples.

Can I borrow your truck?

Burnt at the Stake

2009-11-02T08:01:00.000-05:00

The cave I live in is so small that few people outside of it understand the humor of slipping on a pair of skinny jeans. I was held on trail Friday and Saturday night at two different parties. One in 15 jurist knew my Halloween costume was a parody of poser bike messengers who litter coffee shops of the US. One juror asked if I was a lumberjack and the rest cried witch. What is wrong with these people? Ok judge, light the fire and get it over with, my skinny jeans are starting to itch.

Happy Halloween Satan

2009-10-30T14:49:00.001-04:00

"Most of the candy sold during this season has been dedicated and prayed over by witches I do not buy candy during the Halloween season. Curses are sent through the tricks and treats of the innocent whether they get it by going door to door or by purchasing it from the local grocery store. The demons cannot tell the difference."

-Pat Robertson

Bustin Out

2009-10-30T11:50:00.000-04:00

Time to bust out a pair of outdated jeans for Halloween, I'm reaching for a pair of skinnys.

Hang Time

2009-10-29T22:49:00.000-04:00

Exposure to stellar weather has left me lost rather than flush with the salvation I dreamt of while conquering the summer. Anybody can lace up their shoes or throw a leg over a bike when the weather is perfect. I need a new obstacle; too bad the spider webs are gone.