Bingle by Bingle

Whilst I twiddle my thumbs

2012-01-19T11:11:00.000-08:00

we speak words
(skittering dances upon slightly moistened lips)
winged words that take flight
leaving behind our gently used, yet discarded,
habits
and as the river stares our glances skim atop its taut surface
sending waves and reflections outwards
towards the edges, implications, left behind
like portraits in an ashtray.

Often, he'd see the memories of her
floating as broken habits do
glittering in the dappled sunlight,
one would land upon the lee
of his lip, take flight again
on the backs of winged words,
breathless and squinting
he'd see them grow faint

NOLA

2012-01-15T18:59:00.000-08:00

I like cities but just as much don't care about cities. They crumble easily like something else...civilization. However, once in a while a pretty cool, unique, unlike any other city city comes along, and you shrug your shoulders, grit your teeth from the bone jarring streets, drink a bit too many drinks after a hurricane, and find yourself saying "Who dat", cause you in New Orleans.

New Orleans, where the french, the Canadian french, free'd blacks, Europeans, Spanish, etc etc etc all blend together in the food, language and music. And for this bike tourer, a bunch of friends, shiny new bike parts, and some time off the saddle.

That's all from the Big Easy. Whenever I end up leaving, I'll actually head a bit west before heading north to reach the Natchez Trace Parkway in Mississippi, across the state into Alabama, and then south to Mobile before entering Florida. Onwards and upwards.

Creoles, Cajuns and Gators...oh my

2012-01-09T13:59:00.000-08:00

Upon re-entering the United States from the republic of Texas, I found that I had inadvertently gone to yet another country. This one called Louisiana. Here, they speak at times a strange language, refugees from the cold northern Quebec they once called home. The forests are all flooded, the rice paddies grow craw fish instead of rice, and they don't have counties here, they have Parishes.

The Gulf of Mexico

Sunrise on a foggy morning

one dead gator

I'm halfway to New Orleans, where a small break in biking will take place, friends will be meet, Hurricanes will be drank, revelry shall be had, a great river shall be crossed (Mississippi) and best and needed of all, Eddy will be getting a nice makeover. He's gone over 6,000 miles since his last, and well, he's looking a little haggard. Take a look at some photos (more as always at picasaweb.google.com/bingleadventure) and see you all in the Big Easy.

sunset on the bayou

Messin with Texas: Smellin like Cajun

2011-12-31T10:06:00.000-08:00

It's been one whole month, and I have been in one whole state the entire time. Yes, seems the rumours are true, Texas is a large place. Half of my time was spent in west Texas, a solitary desert where the towns were far apart, the people few, and the skies burdened with clouds. The landscape, and the weather, thankfully turned when i entered the hill country of Texas, located somewhere between San Antonio and Austin, at least the part I rode in.

Two days up and down in the hills got me to the city of music, the capital of Texas, Austin. For 5 days and nights I roamed the bike friendly city streets, enjoyed the trailer park food, the loud music at Emo's, the local beer, the ridiculously large whole foods, and the over priced Mellow Johnny's bike shop. But Austin was a nice break from Texas, and the day I left the sky was semi clear, and the blazing sun which I hadn't seen for near three weeks was a sight for sore eyes.

The hills petered out as I rode eastward, through ranches and farms, burned pine forests and shoulder less highways before finding refugee at a longtime warmshower host with her barn bunkhouse amidst a wonderful ranch land. warmth and sun followed me as I spent several days on the back farm roads in the ever flattening landscape of south east Texas as I made my way towards the Gulf of Mexico. I passed through the old capitol, West Columbia, and spent a night on a touring bus in Angleton before finally reaching the sunny and greasy shores of the Gulf. The land, even flatter than before, spread out along the sandy Galveston island where the houses practice their circus acts by walking around on stilts. But a summers day in the winter is always nice, so riding along the seawall, keeping an eye for man-o-wars as much as little kids running in front of me, i made my way to my couchsurfing house.

And so, as the month, and year, come to a close, my time in Texas does as well. From here, it's about 2 days ride before entering Louisiana and the bayou, oil fields and cajun cooking. Maybe I'll have some craw fish, maybe some alligator, maybe not. If you want to send mail, send it general delivery to New Orleans (see my last blog post), see the wondered beauty of Texas at picasaweb.google.com/bingleadventure, have a wonderful new year's, keep pedaling and see ya'll in Nawlnz.

On the coming of a new year...

2011-12-24T17:03:00.000-08:00

Time comes and goes like the tides in a river or ocean, as the fish swim to and fro. With years passing by, with months and states and seasons passing by, I often can't help but wonder inwardly about what my role is in all this wonder?

O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light--of the objects mean--of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest--with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here--that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Messin with Texas: The Great Slog East

2011-12-18T08:17:00.000-08:00

I have been, on this journey, in many of the geographical regions of the United States. The wooded and hilly northeast where it all began. The central plains, where the endless grasslands spread before me like none other. The northwest, from the high deserts, to the glacier covered Rockies to the fog covered Pacific coast. Next came the south west, with its many forms of parched deserts, basin and range, eroded lands and native reservations. But then something happened. A state happened. Texas happened. Texas has desert for sure, it has ranch land galore, but it too has farmland, piney woods, rivers (mostly dry), stupidly big cities, etc. It's a bit southwest, its a bit central plains, it's a bit southern, but its 100% Texas. And it's intense.

Few states have started the way Texas began for me. To begin, it was freezing cold and I spent the first night at a roadside rest stop where the lights shined bright deep at night and every lonely traveler seemed to stop to use the bathroom. The morning mist, as I cycled towards the Guadalupe Mountain National Park, froze to me (my beard, hair, clothing) and of course to Eddy (his brake levers, his brakes, his panniers). A heavenly cup of coffee offered by the park staff warmed me up enough to finish the slight climb through the park before a chilling downhill where I left the main highway and began my first great slog in Texas. From entering Texas, it would be 85 miles before making the first town, Van Horn. It was a loooong, cold, windy, rear flat kind of day. The land was barren, flat, marked by typical desert shrubs, prickly pear, and the loathsome goat heads. As such, the slog continued through towns that had actually once been towns but now are more ghostly reminders of a time that once was, towns like Lobo, Valentine, Marfa. Though Marfa does have a Prada store to its credit. A few days slog and I arrived in Alpine, a long sought destination as Chris' girlfriend would be arriving to meet him. Snow and ice welcomed us for two days. Needless to say, this was not normal weather, nor welcome.

Waaaaay south of Alpine lies one of the last National Parks I will encounter. Big Bend National Park encases not just more desert land, but beautiful Rio Grande landscape, canyons, and an island of mountains. The weather didn't permit me into the mountains, but I discovered the canyons, was serenaded by Victor, the singing Mexican, and hiked through a Cape Verdean-esq landscape down to the river. The Park was extremely devoid of human life, only a handful of cars passed me in the 3 days I cycled there, twas pleasant. The gusting headwinds weren't, but hey, when in Rome.

After making the long ride out of Big Bend, the little ghost towns seems like giant cities, or they did for the first 5 minutes as I was able to refill my food and water, a tricky business in Big Bend. Days of heavy wet fog, cloud upon cloud, drizzle and dreary all accompanied my slog eastward. Sanderson, Langtry, Del Rio. Each long day in fog, or drizzle, or both, but the sun did not shine. Del Rio I was able to get more food, and upon leaving knew that I was leaving behind more than just a dirty town. Del Rio sits along the Rio Grande, where migrating birds from the south and north come to, as it's the terminus for many due to the mild climate and abundant waters. It is also the edge of the desert, as the ranches start to fade and the farms start to shine. The prickly pears became few and trees started to line the road and fill the dry creek beds. Even the little towns changed, as after Del Rio they weren't dead, nor did they have populations under 50. I ceremoniously poured out half my water reserve, knowing that from this point on, so much has changed.

But more than the towns, the scenery, the landscape has changed. I have been cycling through these states for almost 8 months, over 12,000 miles. I probably have lost some weight, and my famous sculpted muscular body has become more of a thin, scrawny pre-teen body. My luxurious flowing hair got all kinds of knotty, and I gone did pulled out all the knots. My deep dark tan is starting to fade as more often I am wearing long sleeves, leg warmers and, sigh, socks. It's Winter. I left Vermont at the start of Spring. My third season on the road. Sometimes, yes, I feel weary. Sometimes, yes, I wish I had a warm bed, night after night. My desire to continue each day cycling stays strong, my desire to explore, to see the new, to not know my destination that night, where I might sleep, what the land has in store for me, stays strong. I know that in any path of life, there are always, ALWAYS, some bumps along the way. Some bigger, some smaller, but bumps all the same. And man oh man, I love those downhills.

It occurs to me that there are aspects to the life of a bicycle tourer that some may not know, either due to complete ignorance, or more likely, because I ain’t never done said nothing about it. So, let's take a little break from Texas and talk about some of the constant things that occur in a bike tourer's day and life no matter where they are. For starters, there is food. And hopefully, a lot of it. I can burn, on average, about 600 – 1,000 calories an hour. Most days, I cycle about 4 -6 hours, so this can be more than 3,000 calories burned a day. Them needs replacing. So whats do I eats? For breakfast, I eat cereal. Bagged cereal because they say that I am saving the environment by buying bagged cereal, so that’s pretty good. I might have a snack a few hours later, like a grapefruit, or a powerbar, clif bar, or what have you, something small. Lunch is pretty consistent at a tortilla wrap with: peanut butter, nutella, honey and a banana. Yum factor 5. Between lunch and dinner, I might eat another of the aforementioned snacks, might not. Dinner is usually some tortilla with beans or refried beans, with as much vegetables that I can carry: kale, tomato, avocado, onion, etc, and hot sauce if I have some. Dats it. Oh, and lots and lots and lots of water. And gum, I'm really into gum right now.

Something else I get questioned about is, “ Well boy, where dang do you gon sleep tonight?” Sleep, an activity I like to preform each night (though sadly not as well as I'd like) comes in various forms. Sometimes, it happens on the side of the road if conditions are right. At times, in national or state parks. But they have these funny rules where they want money for you to sleep on the earth, a right of my animalhood in my mind, and I don’t like to pay to sleep on the earth. Stealth camping happens in city parks, on the sides of Walmart, in little nooks and crannies where you can be lost during the night. When I'm not camping, I'm most likely staying with one of the many warmshower hosts that I have had the privilege of meeting and staying with on this trip. Combined with couchsurfing, there is a network of people across America and the world willing to open themselves and their homes to fellow humans.

San Antonio, one of the bigger cities in America, and all I care or know about is the Alamo. Thanks to Pee Wee Herman I also insanely need to see the basement which I have been told very much does exist by my father. But the highlight in Texas as we all know, is Austin, the live music capital of the country. I will spend a few days cycling, listening, and probably drinking local beer before heading off once again. This time, towards a body of water I have never been privy to touch before, the Gulf of Mexico. Somewhere along the way people will celebrate Christmas, and New Years. As the new year begins I will be entering the bayou world of Louisiana on my trek to the party in New Orleans. Stay tuned for the much anticipated second part of “Messin with Texas: Smellin like Cajun”, send me mail general delivery style to:

Ross Guberman

General Delivery

New Orleans, LA 70113-1912

check out the growing picture gallery at picasaweb.google.com/bingleadventure, enjoy whatever holiday you may or may not celebrate. Smile at a stranger, because they aren't a stranger. Help someone out because they too are someone's child, someone's brother or sister, father or mother. See someone in a new way, that they are part of your family. We all of us have hard days, hard times. Times when all is cloudy and it seems the sun will never shine. But above the clouds, it's always sunny. People, almost every single day, have helped me. I am a stranger to them, but after wards, not. I am their son too. So many fences, so many private property signs, so much divides us, puts fear and gold and gods between us. This new year, join me in relearning how to love and live. Be well, and keep pedaling.

Phase 2: Complete

2011-12-06T06:49:00.000-08:00

Like the moon, phases come and go. And so it seems, another doth gone for me. Yes, twas a long time ago that I was declaring Phase 1 complete. Well sir, seems yet another phase has come to an end, the infamous, mysterious, the fabled Phase 2.

Starting from Portland, Oregon on September 8^th, I ventured forth with many. We two quickly became three (that same day I became 2) and even quicker became four. We traveled the well trodden coasts of Oregon and California. At San Francisco, we lost half our troupe, and Eddy and Dog were left to their own devices. We continued south, seeing just how big Big Sur was (pretty big). Tearing ourselves form the big rock in the bay in Morro Bay, we crossed the great irrigated, monotonous valley of California before heading into Yosemite to cross the Sierra Nevada and wham bam, we were in desert country. Feeling a bit spicy, we headed to Death Valley, crossing the basins and ranges at 3am moon riding and entered into the city of demise, Las Vegas. We left the crazy state of Nevada only to enter the crazy state of Utah, where those LDS'ers went above and beyond trying to be nice to us. Weird. Seeing amazing landscape after amazing landscape (Zion, Grand Staircase, Glen Canyon), we traversed north to south of Arizona, seeing big gaping holes (Grand Canyon), getting snow, rain, cold, suns and guns, and everything in between. Big old cactus, old west graveyards, and a taste of old Mexico. New Mexico was next, promised enchantment, we felt much was to be desired. A few moments of bliss (Black Mountains, Hillsboro, White Sands, the climb to Cloudcroft), a few of not as much bliss, one hell of a cavern (Carlsbad), and we entered the grand daddy of them all, Texas. And that's where I am now. 89 days after leaving Portland, 219 days since Burlington. Let's look back on some Phase 2 stats with a little bit of total stats thrown in helter skelter style:

Miles Cycled: 4, 210 (11,230 total)
Average miles/day: 54 (61 prior)
Days Cycling: 89 (217 total)
Zero mile days: 1 (8 total)

Naturally, with Phase 2 ending, many would assume Phase 3 would begin. Well, your right. Phase 3 begins as of December 6^th, 2011 in Alpine, Texas. Where it ends though is still up for debate, but probably somewhere in Florida. Our great Texas adventure has us heading south to Big Bend, our last national park for a long long time, and then coming back from there in an eastward setting to San Antonio, then north to Austin, and then sorta diagonal towards Galveston and the Gulf of Mexico before hugging the warm waters into Louisiana. Keep checking out the growing pictures at picasaweb.google.com/bingleadventure, be sure to read the lies and exaggerations at Chris's blog (reallylongbiketrip.blogspot.com), get your copy of the best book ever written since the beginning of written language ( http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2714286), and of course; live each day, truly, LIVE, be alive, love yourself and others freely and without hesitation, keep your heart alive with freedom of your soul and actions. What's the point of the greatest thing ever known in the universe, life, if you aren't living it?

And on the 8th Day...

2011-12-01T18:06:00.000-08:00

So there she was. God had gone all crazy and created a whole bunch of stuff in just 6 little days. She then made one whole day just to plop her feet up and take a rest. But that wasn't enough it seems, as she got a bit bored. And so, on the 8th day, God create the single greatest work of literature to ever fall upon the hands of mere mortals, words so powerful, so inspiring, so spelled correctly that some have fell dead on spot from their power. Here are a few early reviews:

"I thought an alligator wearing a hat was the cats meow. Well sir, I was mistaken. This here book takes the cake."

"Book?"

"I'd like 2 cheeseburgers and a side of fries. What? What kind of restaurant is this?!?"

"The best book I ever wrote."

But don't take their words for it, find out for yourself. Go I say go here: http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2714286 and get yourself the last book you'll ever have to read. If you happen to be friends or family of the author, which I fathom you are, email me and I can send you a coupon, though that's a little sacrilegious if you ask me.

Tis the season...

2011-11-25T08:06:00.001-08:00

Binglers around the world are rejoicing, singing the famous Hannukah songs we all grew up with. This time of year, we all see the Hannukah Harry's out front of Macy's spinning their driedals asking people to kindly donate to help others. In that spirit, and since some have asked, if you can't manage to get out from behind that desk, if your life is limited to two week vacations once a year, if you see the end of your street as a limitation, then I have the perfect holiday gift for you. For a limited time only, I invite those who wish to live a life of glee, of freedom, of unending adventure, simply go to the right hand side of this blog and under my picture you can donate money to the Bingle cause via pay pal. Here's what your money may go to:

Bicycle parts and/or maintenance
Food
More food after that first round of food was eaten
Camping supplies or replacement parts
Food

Naturally, even better than donating money is getting on your bike and joining me, and second to that is sending a letter full with love and support to one of my varied addresses. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and may your days continue to be bright.

Be sure to see all the photos at picasweb.google.com/bingleadventure and read the rants and ravings of Chris over at reallylongbiketrip.blogspot.com

A Cycling Cowpoke

2011-11-23T15:43:00.001-08:00

Well Howdy there feller Binglers. Ibeen darn busy rasslin them steer and shoowing dem coyotes and haven'thad a chance to spin some yarns with ya'll. We've gone from onestate to another, traversing not just different landscapes andgeographies, but spanning a spectrum of people and ways of life alongthe road. You see, the world of bicycle touring isn't just all thepretty places, but also the many faces that make the trip such awonderful, special thing. So sit back by the fire, get yerself someof dem beans over yonder, and let me tell you a bit about some of thepast few weeks of my travels...

The Grand Canyon state surprisinglyonly has one grand canyon. And it's way north. Our ride throughArizona took us from the absolute north to the absolute south, and weonly saw one really really big canyon. But, as we left the bitterand snowy environs of Flagstaff, we did descend through a canyon intothe mystical town of Sedona, where it turns out if we made $50,000 ayear we could have made $75 to listen to people try to sell us stuff. We moosey'd on. Another day off due to passing storms, and we had along, long climb at high, snowy elevations before getting to thesmall town of Payson, a nearly 70 mile ride of which 40 was toughclimbing. Karma was good and the next day was nearly all down hillthrough dry arid desert towards Roosevelt lake, yet anotherconstipation caused by man interfering with the natural flow of theearth's waters.

Leaving the lake behind we got ourfirst views of the might saguaro cactus that dominates much of thesouthern desert land of Arizona. A few days ride had us into thebicycle hopping city of Tucson. We had made it in time for the GABAbike swap, a community driven bicycle swap meet that closes the heartof the downtown. Picking up some parts for Dog, me and Chris swungover to BICAS, a well known bike co-op where the community does itbike work and bike art. An amazing, inspiring place for a well oiledbike co-op that serves as an integral part of the community, cyclingand not cycling related. We stayed with fantastic people who made usfeel at home, they spun their fire, flew with yoga, played theirinstruments, and were looking after a cute little dog too. A day'sside trip to Saguaro National Park to see more of the same exactenvironment we'd seen the last few days, and then we were off furthersouth hoping to make our days even warmer. Wrong.

That first night out, camping in asmall town's fairgrounds, the air got chilly and we woke covered in a fine frost. Brrr...shaking it off we pedaled for coffee and sat inthe sun eating our cereal. We had old westerns on our mind pullinginto Tombstone, home of the Earp brothers and the OK Corral. Sadly,our shared history seems to be owned by a select few and they chargemoney for the privilege of seeing or touching, so we didn't. We left dusty Tombstone for places of greater height, like Bisbee. We had been told by a Swiss biker going from Alaska to Argentina via everywhere that Bisbee was really cool and we could camp for free in town at the Occupy Bisbee camp. We were sold. A long day ending with a long hill and we made the artistic town in the mountains as the sun was setting. We found the Occupy camp and our Swiss friend too, seemed he didn't get enough the first time. A cold night camping, but hot coffee and lots of bike talk in the morning warmed us up.

All downhill to the bottom of Arizona, and we dipped our wheels in the forbidden fruit that is Mexico. Nobody blinked an eye as we cycled into Mexico, and the US custom guy coming out was NICE?!?!?! Are we more wary of our Canadian brothers and sisters? It seems so. We were not hassled once by any border patrol, no matter how blatantly we camped on the side of the road, which we do a lot. We spent the night where Geronimo gave up his last stand before heading into New Mexico, the land of so-called enchantment.

A few days ride through towns pretty desolate where even a tomato could not be had before we found some hint of what the hub bub is all about. After a night camping at a falling down death trap, we had to pass over the Black mountains which loomed ahead. Turns out, a narrow, beautiful canyon bisects it making the climb much easier and super beautiful. summiting at 8,228, a 12 mile downhill had us catching our breath in Hillsboro. An old mining town turned artsy, they welcome bikers to camp at the park, where the town folk cam and welcomed us, and the next morning, after being delayed by hail and lighting, had a wonderful lunch at their Monday potluck and were invited by a ranching couple to come stay with them down the hill, which we did once the skies cleared a bit.

And now, Las Cruces, the crossroads of old and new. We will spend thanksgiving here with a warmshower host before heading east towards White Sands, up up up to Cloudcroft and then down again towards Carlsbad Caverns and the start of the monstrously big, Texas.

The sights are many and varying, the faces change as often as do the lives behind them. But time and time again, I have found a golden thread that clings us all wonderfully together. Whether a cowboy duding it up, an artists growing cacti in the mountains, some guy driving trucks around the country, our hearts are filled with love, kindness and warmth that when given the chance, explodes outward and embraces those around us. Our constructed world and environment more often than not discourages this and frowns upon it, but in those moment when we are most vulnerable and in need of help, the rays of light that make up all life, human and non-human, shine brightest. Don't never be afraid to love, to give, to put yourself out there, to see it, feel it, hear it, touch it, taste it. This planet offers up the most delicious foods for us, and it would be silly not to try a little of it all. And better yet, to do it in some good company.

our new touring partner, Debra

To learning day after day what love is, what freedom means and can be, and how incredible each moment pedaling continues to be, happy thanksgiving. Also, you can send general delivery mail to Alpine, Texas where we will be on December 6th.

General Delivery

Ross Guberman

US Post Office

901 w. Holland Ave

Alpine, TX 79830-9998

From 0 to 10,000

2011-11-07T10:55:00.000-08:00

I wrote some stuff down, but I think pictures are a better way to try to capture a smidgen of the last 6 months, the last 10,000 miles on my bike. It's been amazing...beyond amazing. From my first mile with Mark and Melissa by my side, to months alone, then weeks with 3 other friends, now me and Chris and soon Brittany, the people and places have kept me in awe of this life and this world. To all I have met on my travels, thank you all. To those who have been with me, on the bike and at home, thank you all. I thank my precious life, this precious world. To life, freedom and love. Here's to 10,000 more, all bingle by bingle.

PS: You should play epic, awe inspiring music to accompany this little photo montage to give it that bittersweet feeling it deserves.

A song of snow, a song of sun

2011-11-05T21:56:00.000-07:00

“This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
― Walt Whitman

We continue onward. This ever dawning earth reaches out and meets us every morning, and hopefully, through our pedals and feet, our breathes, our awe, our interactions and joy and despair, the hard moments and the exhilarating ones, we continue onward celebrating ourselves, each other, and the world.

A Grand Cycle

2011-11-03T11:59:00.000-07:00

In the span of little over a week, we have seen some of the most majestic art that this planet has to offer. Zion, Grand Staircase-Escalante, Glen Canyon, Lake Powell, Navajo Reservation and Grand Canyon. Not to mention everything inbetween. Now, as the weather gets mad cold, we must make a bee line for the southern provinces of the country to ensure we don't freeze at night. For now, enjoy some of the photos of the last week-ish. We will be heading through Sedona, Payson, around Phoniex and towards Tuscon. See all the shots at picasaweb.google.com/bingleadventure

A Sliver of Silver

2011-10-25T19:29:00.000-07:00

Few states have the gumption to welcome you with a DIY sign that is spray painted on the rough road. Nevada, however, has that gumption and more. While we only biked a sliver of the silver state, what we saw and expereinced certainly filled us with more than just a sliver, whether it be food, disgust, or desert dust.

Our Nevada adventure began as we left the formidable Death Valley behind, staying well within the desert climes heading toward the fabled town of Pahrump. For nearly a month, we oogled the little blip on our map. Pronouced Paaaaaaaaaaaa-Rump, the town was a sprawling desert enclave of little casinos, long shoulder less roads, and one of the warmest couchsurfing places we had ever stayed at. For two days we enjoyed the warmth and love of the people we stayed with, along with the flavor and color of the local scene in Pahrump. Having exhausted ourselves of the many activities to do (sitting in front of the grocery store being the main one) we headed out into the desert again, with a 5,500 ft pass standing between us and the City of Sin, Las Vegas. We were dripping sweat as we rolled down the hill and into the Red Rock Canyon road that took us by the geological wonders of the limestone and sandstone landscape. A gradual descent and we made it to our warmshower host in west Las Vegas.

There are few places on Earth where two slightly smelly, dirty, spandex/tank top wearing bicycle tourers can feel/be more out of place than Las Vegas. We mingled among the drugged masses, as they spread their complacency amongst the casinos, the smoke filled death interiors where zombies sat not eating brains but slowly letting their souls be sucked dry. We were even almost duped with one of the all time classic scams, the old " Give me 5 I give you 2". Luckily, I had seen this scam once before and was able to get out of it without being hoodwinked. Despite the dry heat, we felt uncomfortable and dirty being in the throng of comsumptive humanity, and felt even worse after gorging ourselves as if we would never eat again at our sponsor, McFadden's at the Rio. A gut wrenching (literally) 12 mile bike ride back to our host and we vowed to never once again A) eat that much and B) step foot in Las Vegas again. The next morning we went to a breakfast buffet. At a casino.

another casuality of Las Vegas

Leaving the glitz and glitter behind, we re-started out bicycle tour along the shores of the man made lake mead as we winded our way to the Valley of Fire, where more examples of sandstone, faults and the forces of nature were on brilliant display. One might thing, at first glance, that the desert is a place of dreary, heat stained emptiness. I have found quite the opposite, as kangaroo rats, lizards, birds and other little creatures are constantly scurrying about as we cycle past them. The plant life abounds as well, in it's own distinct way. The yucca trees, mesquite trees, various shrubs and ground cover with shades of yellows, light and darker greens fill the expanse.

We are finally seeing what it means to be living. As the lined road passes under our rotating wheels, the breezes come and go, clouds wander over mountains and along flat escapes, our eyes seeking the wonder around each corner, knowing that more is always to come. We are the most dangerous things, we are adventurers, teetering on the edges of what we know and then beyond. The forces of nature are echoed in our bodies struggling to summit the next hill, the cracking smiles when the winds whips past our ears on downhills. On a bicycle tour, our bodies are the engines propelling us forward, the unfolding world our daily bread. The Earth herself sings us songs, the people we pass and meet offering all that they have before we move onward.

Leaving the constipation of Hoover Dam behind, we cycled our longest stretch of freeway, 20 mile,s before heading off and having a luxurious lunch in the shade of the overpass. The border town of Mesquite was our destination, and it didn't fail in being one of the many strange, off putting desert towns we have been in. Having no options for tent camping we cycled off and crossed the Arizona border before finding a nice lumpy patch of desert to call our home for the night.

And so now, sitting in Utah at another wonderful warmshower host, we are taking our showers and getting giddy about the next big thing, Zion National Park. Our days for the next week to two weeks will be filled with geological wonder as it has been since Yosemite. We'll see Zion, Grand Staircase, Glen Canyon, Painted Desert, and the Grand Canyon before heading south into Flagstaff. We're all stocked up on water and food, Chris has bungee cords nearly falling off his bike, and we couldn't be happier. You can see it here at picasaweb.google.com/bingleadventure, read about it at Chris's blog, but really, you need to live it.

The Bikes of Wrath

2011-10-18T10:34:00.000-07:00

Often while I am biking, i am reminded of and surrounded by may of the words of Walt Whitman. He spoke of beauty and of ugliness, of good and bad, of the nature of man that contains all, and that is what makes us human. I easily have seen this in myself, others and the earth as I have moved across it by bicycle. But another writer has been in my head recently, Steinbeck. in California, a land of extreme differences, people have flocked here for many different reasons, some to peril, some to perish, and some to profit.

From the magnificent Big Sur coast, we left the ocean for the last time as we started out trek east over the coastal range mountains and the Diablo range, with a storm front chasing us the whole way. Getting into the first valley east of the ocean, we say a different world, much drier, much sparser. Luckily, we made it to Avenal, an oasis in the sun as they say, where we tried out hand at stealh camping for the first time. Some police intervention and sprinklers later, we were up early and on our way on our longest day yet to cross the "fertile" San Joaquin valley, where dust bowlers came to escape their desert only to come to another, the desert of human greed.

In the valley, where a hefty chunk of America's food is grown, little poor towns dot the landscape along with cotton, pistachios, almonds and garlic. All of these fields are worked by immigrant labor, all of these fields are feed by pesticides, all of these fields are watered by stolen, redirected water, and all of these fields make only a very very few people rich, as it makes other poorer. It was flat, it was windy, it was a 93 mile day getting through, and despite our exhaustion when we got to Millerton lake to camp, we couldn't have been happier to have gotten trough the valley, though another valley loomed in the distance.

From Millerton, it was a more or less steady climb towards 5,000 ft to the entrance of Yosemite National Park and the Sierra Nevada. The Sierra Nevada is actually one huge chunk of rock that formed miles underground and has been pushed up, exposed, and craved in the ensuing time. The majestic sight of the Yosemite Valley, of El Cap, Half Dome, and the huge expanse of the valley was breath taking and we knew that we had made it to one of the very special places on earth. A quick bomb downhill and we made the valley floor and found our first bikers since leaving Morro Bay. A pair of Brits were cycling a similar route as us, and we decided we would bike out of the valley the next day together and camp up at 6,200 ft. it rained off and on that day, soaking us, chilling us, but not in the least stopping us.

From our wet camp, we had a daunting 40 mile ride up to 10,000 ft and Tioga pass, where rumours of snow abounded. They were true. But so were the rumours of how beautiful the ride would be. We would climb, descend, climb, and descend, in shade and sun and sun lined forests. After summiting, it was 12 miles downhill, instantly in the dry side of the east Sierras, with Mono lake staring out in the distance. As the sun set, all four of us made it to a warmshower for the night in June Lake and we sleepily ate chili and spoke of our day.

Me and Chris decided to spend a short day cycling only to the wonderful hot springs near Mammoth, where we soaked our legs and watched as the full moon rose over the mountains and made us forget our weariness. The next morning was a wee chilly as we were camping in the desert at about 8,000ft. So, covered in ice, we jumped into the spring for about an hour to let the sun do her job, packed up and continued south on our course for Death Valley. We took two days getting to Lone Pine, our turn off for the park, and made plans to get to the free campground in the park, about a 60 mile ride form Lone Pine. Of course, plans, like civilization, are foolish and crumble easily.

It started well enough. We did a small pass that got us up to over 4,000ft and to the entrance of Death Valley. We were right on schedule. Oh yeah. A twisting, canyon filled descent and we made it to 1,900 feet and Panamint springs. What we didn't count on was: A) That it would nearly 100 degrees and B) the next pass would be a 3,500 ft climb. So, being the smart, resourceful biker that we are, we went with a new plan. We sat in the shade for hours, and hour, and hours, and woke up at 3am, with a near full moon shining and the temperature and good 70 degrees and spent the next 3 hours climbing with the stars, the shaded mountains, and the wonderful silence that we have found only in the desert. With a 5,000 ft descent to sea level, the sun was rising on our epic day. From Stovepipe Wells it was 200 feet down over the next 30 miles into the belly of the hottest, driest, and lowest place in America, Badwater Basin. With salt, and sand dunes, strange plants, little kangaroo rats, and being just as interesting to the tourists as the environment itself, we made our way to Furnace Creek and stopped. We had another 3am bike ride ahead, so we spent the rest of the day in the shade.

Waking up at 3am again, we were noticeably more tired, and it was a bit warmer than yesterday, around 80's, but with the moon leading us, we bike 30 miles and 3,000 ft to Death Valley Junction as the sun rose. We had made it across one of the most extreme, dangerous landscapes anywhere. Yes, we rock.

In California, we found it all. The extremes that come together that make this planet so incredible, the people who share their homes and lives with us, along with those who speed by us, the differences are always staggering, but they make it alive. And now, having cross the official state line into Nevada, we turn another chapter of our trip and begin a new terrain. We'll spend a few days in Las Vegas doing unbloggable things, and then head north east towards Zion National Park in Utah before heading south to the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff Arizona. We have only adventure ahead.

Check out all the photos from Vermont to California at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, and all new photos from Never onward can be found at by clicking here. As our exhilaration at being alive increases, so does our appreciation of each moment we get to pedal through the majestic beauty that graces this humble, small planet. With Freedom and Love, keep pedaling.

Interlude: Big Sur

2011-10-05T12:26:00.000-07:00

South of San Fransisco is the "central" California coast. Basically, it's all Big Sur. From Monterey to Morro Bay, the continent ends abruptly at the ocean's edge, with moist, fertile valleys spilling into the rough, ragged coast line. Bridges span the expanses, the highway hugs the precarious edge, and all the while two cyclists pedal along with growing smiles and senses of wonder. We have ended our tour of the Pacific Coast. Me, starting in Washington, Chris, from Portland, we have pedaled over 1,000 miles along the Pacific coast of the United States, and now head east, north, south, and east again in California to see it's other splendors, namely Yosemite and Death Valley. Enjoy the Big Sur teaser below, remember to keep pedaling, and enjoy the breaths of freedom and chances to love that surround us every day.

As always, see them all at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, see Chris's photos here. Next time, perhpas from California, or perhaps from Las Vegas. Only the bike knows.

The Not so Lost Cyclists in Northern California

2011-09-26T18:32:00.000-07:00

California started almost like a foreign country. After passing the welcome sign, we entered the fabled Agricultural inspection station. Many bicycle tourers have ended their trips here, being jailed for life sentences for trying to sneek a illicit cherry across the border. For us, the Fable Foursome, we simply got a smile and some free maps and were on our way. So be it.

Nor-Cal, or North California for some, started with the Del Norte county, where farm lands and wild coast lines dominated the days leading up to the coastal Redwoods, the tallest trees to live on this planet. Lets talk a bit about the Redwoods. They are massive. They are the biggest collection of bio-mass (life/energy) on this planet. When you are in a redwood old growth forest, of which 5% is left, you are in the middle of the most alive place on Earth. In life, a redwood tree can support about 1,700 species, form it's base to the canopy. In death, a redwood tree can support about 4,300 species. They are prime examples of the absolute full cycle of this planet, of how life and death are both intricate, important parts of the cycle. We mourn death, while we should celebrate, both the soul/energy of the person whom we shared many times with, and the life that all death ultimately supports.

We traveled for a while along the rugged, sea stack littered coast line before entering the national and state parks that make up the Coastal Redwoods. We biked amongst giants that towered above us. We gazed like children up, lost in the magical grip that these massive, seething trees exude. We felt small, humble, prayed over by the quiet giants. being amongst the redwoods is feeling like a child struck in constant awe, silent by the majesty of it all.

Then the lost coast happened. On the map, it looked like a nice scenic detour along the coast, a few miles out of our way, and in theory flat riding. Nice. Plans, like civilization, is built upon a faulty foundation and can so easily crumble. It turned out to take us 2 days, over 60 miles, and the hardest, steepest climbing i have done on this trip. Hours of climbing over the friendly sounding, Rainbow Range, and we started the death descent down the hill known locally as "The Wall". A near vertical descent over the worst road on Earth, it makes the roads in Utica seemed paved in gold. After breaking: a pannier screw, brake arm, and crushing my headset bearings, we were blessed by bike touring divine intervention. Taking the smart way down, Christine rolled up in a pickup truck with our saviors for the day, Jib and Jane who lived just in the next town of Petrolia, with a little ups and downs in the way. Turned out to be 20 miles and more difficult hills before i rolled exhausted into their house where we camped for the night. Another tough day of climbing had us on the Avenue of the Giants for some of our last redwood riding. We have been along the coast since, with foggy days where only the sounds of the crashing waves 100's of feet below let you know there is a cliff close by, with sweeping vistas of the wave battered rocky shoreline, from the fennel growing wild on the road, to the people and places, sights and the sounds, we have traveled along the fabled north coast of California, and just now took a dip along the Russian river to Occidental and a day of rest.

From here, we four pull into San Fransisco for our last days together. Christine must return to Vermont, where the sun does shine but not like it does here in California. Andrea heads south too, but her timeline is different and we probably will say Auf Wiedersehen to Andrea. Me and Chris will head to Big Sur and then make our way through the lush valley of California and north to Yosemite. There we will pass into the Mojave desert as we cruise on down to the lowest point on this trip, Death Valley

Eduardo and the Dog are doing well, a little tune up today and some wheel rotation has us feeling juicy. Check out all the photos at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, check out Chris's blog at http://reallylongbiketrip.blogspot.com/, and let your self have the freedom to love, and love the freedom that you have.

Two guys, a girl and the Oregon Coast

2011-09-16T08:07:00.000-07:00

It wasn't always this way. I had biked for a few days more than four months, over 7,000 miles by myself, across nearly 25% of the United States. And then, just like that, it all changed. Chris arrived in Portland as planned, and a scant two hours later, after using the supplied bike stand at the Portland Airport, we were on our way to drop off Chris's stuff so we could explore Portland and get some biking in. We hit a local brewery before Chris said we had to go somewhere his girlfriend told him about. We got there, and I saw nothing of any importance until a rude biker biked by me to close and said sorry. Turns out, I knew this biker. Yes, seems I didn't get up early enough that day as a fast one was pulled on me and Christine secretly came out to Portland too to bike for about a month with us down the Pacific coast. We therefore became the 7 Foot Gang. Another day biking around town, getting last minute supplies and tweaking our rides, and we went to bed early with bike touring dreams in our head.

We left Portland via the light rail to avoid riding in the urban area surrounding town and the traffic. We got off at the end of the line and jumped on the highway west, and then south before leaving to make our crossing of the coastal range which stood between us and the pacific ocean. A tough first day for my new mates as it was hot and sunny and a whole lot of climbing, but they we certainly getting into it quickly. We made camp at the top of the summit and talked about the next day of hitting the coast.

Hit the coast we did, with Pacific City being the first stop on our coastal route. we lunched and enjoyed the salty sea air before heading off and camping for the night. A day of head wind and 80 miles had us tired and sleeping early. But we meet up with the German again, and our threesome became a foursome overnight.

We have thus continued south along the coast with occasional routes that take us off highway 101. When that happens, its very nice indeed as the traffic is constant, not always heavy, but non stop on the highway and the little side roads are much nicer. The terrain is up and down, with most climbs not too bad. I find that somehow I end up in front of the group, stop for all to catch up, and then we continue on our way. Being part of a group is much different than making all the decisions and choices for and by myself before. I like talking about the day, what is upcoming, and just joking around at night in camp. Now that I have been to the one place i needed to be at a certain time, Portland, I feel more inclined to simply bike and get where ever we get that day, it don't matter. There's no fire.

Every turn we take opens up another spectacular vista of rugged sea, rock islands with trees growing atop, birds inches from the surf cruising on the winds. and there we are pedaling or freewheeling it, soaking in the sun when it shines, breathing in the fresh air, and loving it all, bingle by bingle of course.

As always, head over to picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics to see all the action. With a growing sense of freedom and expanding capacity to love, keep pedaling.

Phase 1: Complete

2011-09-07T15:42:00.000-07:00

You'd think by now that I would stop expecting tinker tape parades, media frenzy and general hoopla when I enter a town upon my steel steed. You'd be wrong. It seems that I was the only one aware that I was entering Portland after spending just over 4 months (127 days) cycling from Burlington, Vermont, traversing these states and provinces, wandering on the road, in my mind and in my heart for endless hours. Life can become a blur, as we try to look behind, what we did can be covered in fog. Four months is not forever, but the infinite things i have seen, experienced, the people places and animals, it can crowd my head and sometimes I dont see the past as clearly. Of course, its the present that I am really into, and biking bingle by bingle helps re-enforce that it is the NOW that is always most spectacular and sweet. With that said, lets take a look back:

May 3, 2011 Burlington, Vermont - September 7, 2011 Portland Oregon
Miles Traveled: 7,060.9
Days Cycled: 119
Zero Mile days: 8
Time Cycled: 615 hours, 30 minutes
Average Daily Distance: 59.3 miles
Longest Day: 132.04 miles, 10 hrs, 33 mins
States Cycled: (12) Vermont, New York, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Montana, Washington, Oregon
Canadian Provinces: Ontario, Alberta, British Columbia
National Sites Visited: (17) Sleeping Bear Dunes, Pictured Rocks, Apostle Islands, Pipestone, Badlands, Minuteman, Mt. Rushmore, Windcave, Rocky Mountains, Flaming Gorge, Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, Glacier, North Cascades, Ross Lake, Mt. Rainier, Olympic
Canadian National Sites: Kootney, Banff, Jasper
Mountain Passes: (19) Colorado - Rabbit Ears 9,426 ft, Milner 10,758 ft, Trail Ridge 12,183 ft, Muddy 8,772, Fall river 11,796, Montana - Badger 6,760ft, Big Hole 7,630, Chief Joseph 7,264, Lost Trail 7,014, Marias 5,280, Logan 6,646 Alberta - Sinclair 1,486 m, Vermillion 1,640m, Bow 2,068m, Sunwapta 2,035, Yellowhead 1,131 Washington - Loup Loup 4,020 ft, Washington 5,477ft, Rainy 4,855 ft
9 Continental Divide Crossings

There are probably other things I can say, but i really dont feel like sitting around adding everything up or making up random stuff. If you really need to know more, just ask. Tomorrow, Chris arrives and we'll ride form the airport officially staring my Phase Two: Portland to Austin. we have about 4 months to travel the Pacific coast and southwest before meeting up with some more touring friends in Texas. But what the future really holds for us, who knows. Thats what makes cycle touring so great, we dont need to know, only go.

Washington: The Everything State (Part 2 of 2)

2011-09-06T19:41:00.000-07:00

Like the famous explorers, Merriweather Lewis and William Clark, I set off from Seattle with a shiny new drive train, fully packed food bag and a smile on my rested face via the ferry to Brainbridge Island where I crossed over onto the Olympic Peninsula and hooked up with the infamous highway, the 101. It was a long day of highway biking and some frustrations trying to find the poorly signed Olympic Discovery bike trail but find it I did and I pulled into Port Angeles and a warmshower host on the edge of the Hurricane Ridge road.

My destination after leaving Port Angeles was unknown even to me. I figured I would cycle till I stopped, either on the Pacific coast or in the rain forest, both of which were on my route. I ended up camping by the coast at La Push, which I later learned is a now famous area due to the Twilight book series. I got my first splash of the cold ocean water after nearly 4 months cycling across the states.

A short day followed as I made my way mostly east and into the Olympic National Park to hike in and camp at the Hoh Rain Forest. Much different than tropical rain forest, and the big thing for me was that i was in the area in the United States that gets the most rain and I was getting sun and warmth. Not to shabby I dare say.

After a night under the mossy trees, it was back west to the rugged and hard packed coast before heading east once again for the 2nd rain forest in the park. another hike, more wonderful slugs, and a cloudless night where the stars did shine bright. An early start had me on the road along with the logging traffic as I altered between clear cuts and replanted forests. Visited the super tourists town of Ocean Shores and spent a very very cold, foggy night camped behind their very nice high school. A cool wet morning turned into a sunny warm day as I made my short way inland around Gray's Harbor and to Twin Harbor State Park where I meet up with my second touring partner of the trip thus far, Andrea the German. The German was cycling the entire Pacific Coast trail from Vancouver to San Diego. We rode for the next two days together, and most likely will bump into each other again, as all of us cyclists are pretty much on the same path south.

It was an 80 mile day to the south tip of Washington and the terminus of the Columbia river at Cape Disappointment. This is near where the Lewis and Clark exploration ended. This is not where we would end. A hiker/biker site had me and the German, along with another team of two cycling south along the coast. I know I will see many bikers for the next few weeks along the coast, a nice change from my nearly empty ride of other bikers for much of the last 4 months.

The end of my time in Washington was marked with a 4.1 mile bridge spanning the Columbia river to Astoria, Oregon. We ran into a German couple cycling Alaska to Argentina and all four of us braved the bridge and rode helter skelter style till we were on dry land in the state of Oregon.

And so, I am now one day ride outside of Portland, where tomorrow will also mark the end of my 128 days on the road solo, from Burlington to Portland. I am nervous, though probably not as much as Chris "Hop-a-long" Childers is, but still, nervous. Stayed tuned for the much anticipated 4 month wrap up and summary, where I spill all the juicy stats of the last four months, make up a few fun facts, and give a vague idea of the next months to come.

Enjoy the photos at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, enjoy the waning days of summer, and with freedom and love, keep pedaling.

Washington: The Everything State (Part 1 of 2)

2011-08-26T16:13:00.000-07:00

The United States of America is a vast place. It has oceans, mountain ranges, valleys, grasslands, deserts, glaciers, rivers, canyons, cities, islands, volcanoes and much more. There is another place that has all of this too, and it is in the US. Its Washington. I would be hard pressed to find another place that spans so many geological states and formations such as this state.

When I arrived, I had been cycling through the fake green landscape of wine country in the Okanagan valley of Canada. Once I pleasantly crossed the border into the United States, the grapes went away and the full force of the Sonora desert came blasting on me. The day was cloudless and hot, with temps in the 90's and the sun baking my already baked skin. A oasis of ice and filtered water greeted me in one of the small towns before I made camp in Omak, home of the gruesome “Suicide Hill” where horses are forced to run down a super steep hill and several die each year.

Another stunning day of cycling as I leisurely made my way over my thus far favorite named pass, Loup Loup before freewheeling it into Twisp and the Methow Valley. Spent the night in a very efficient house and ended up taking a sorta rest day as I biked only 10 miles to the next town, the wild wild west town of Winthrop. Sun, blue skies and headwinds all greeted me on a two mountain pass day, the first of which was Washington pass, about 5,400 ft with grand views of the valley and snow capped peaks. A little down and some more up over Rainy Pass where a secret cyclist note lead me to Rainy Lake and a beautiful photo of Eduardo. A night spent in the mossy forest was a nice way to end an amazing day in the Cascade mountains.

I followed the Skagit river, in the Skagit valley, passing the fabled Cascadian Farm before heading south towards Mt Baker and slowly made my way to Seattle. I had thought it would be a two day riding, camping somewhere that night, but as I rode closer and closer, I thought, “Well, why not just bang this puppy out?” And so, 10 ½ hours and 132 miles later, as the sun set over Puget sound I pulled into my extended stop at the world headquarters of Sonadei, LLC.

Eduardo got a makeover with a new drivetrain and new bottom bracket, along with gearing better suited for touring than I had had. Cruising the Seattle bike paths and streets, drinking coffee and tallying my stats for the anticipated 4 month wrap up. I'll take a non-bike trip to Mt. Rainier, the highest peak in Washington before leaving for the Olympic Peninsula and make my way to Portland for the end of this 4 month solo bike trip across America.

Enjoy the photos at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, thanks for all the letters, comments and support, and I hope freedom and love fill your days and hearts.

Cycling in Canada: Reconsiderations

2011-08-19T13:36:00.000-07:00

They put all that delicious candy right at the cashier, and at a child's eye level, all for a perfect reason. Either your child will see candy and demand some, or you will see it at the last moment and say, what the heck. We often make flash decisions based on a whim, and as such, it may be true of my admonition of Canada about a week ago. Coming into Canada, I hit a little bicycle tourer low after a strong stretch of awesomeness. The traffic, plus increased prices, and lack of cycling accommodations all combined to make a grumpy Bingler. Well, now that I can smell the sweet stank of the USA, what say I now?

Cycling the Icefields Parkway was truly an amazing two day event. Not only did I see glaciers on top of mountains, but one literally came down to the road, part of the Columbia Icefield. The colors, smells, sounds all made a remarkable experience that I would be hard pressed to not want others to live. Leaving Jasper National Park, I crossed the continental divide for the lucky #9^th time, and entered the pacific timezone. I was also now in Mt Robson Provincial Park. Mt Robson is the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies, and even though it was cloudy when I saw it, it still dominated the skyline. I hit my most northern point before swinging south and ending a cold, rainy day in Valemount. A foggy, cold morning greeted me, but so did the start of the Thompson River Valley. This valley, at the northern part, was unlike all the other valleys I had cycled in because it wasn't huge; it was tight, hugging, squeezing me on all sides. To my left and right were towering walls of green pine trees, rocks and hidden waterfalls all there for me to discover. The day turned sunny and I cycled all day before some stealth camping at a rest stop where Western Union long ago had left wires in the hopes of creating an international wire line to Europe.

Blue skies, warm winds (head winds of course) and I was on my way, passing through the little towns of Clearwater, Little Fort and Barriere. A pleasant day of cycling as the valley started getting wider and wider as the Thompson river grew in size. The traffic was also growing in size, the logging trucks seemed to multiply at the blink of an eye. When a logging truck passes you, it sucks you in and then swoops the air all over you. When a logging truck comes the opposite way of you, it sucks you in and then bashes you in the face with a wall of wind. Wonderful either way. Another day of camping along the banks of the Thompson in Barriere.

I left the highway and put my faith in a map (mistake). The back road would cut a bunch of miles and help me stay off the highway, and it indicated a dirt part, so I knew it was coming. And come it did, and it wasn't so bad. Sure, the logging trucks were still there, but they were few and I got a quiet ride with birds and herons and hawks and secret waterfalls for my eyes only. But then...but then... The road that crossed the Trans Canadian Highway was meant to be paved the ENTIRE way. But it wasn't. Not even for 1 mile. I had a choice. Cycle 30 miles on a dirt road of varying quality, or take the god awful highway for 24 miles. I choose god awful. The shoulder was pretty good, the traffic pretty bad, but my hiccup came when my normally smooth ride started lumping, up and down. And I knew. I didn't need to look. I didn’t need to feel or to hear. I knew I had a flat. Though it should be impossible to get a flat on a Schwable marathon Plus, even they can puncture when you run over an industrial sized staple. So, stripping Eduardo of all my gear (Eduardo told me later that he felt ashamed being upside down, naked on the side of the road), I struggled for 30 minutes to patch the flat while the trucks and cars zoomed by. Finally, I was on my way and arrived in Salmon Arm to realize where I was camping, as is always the case, was at the other end of town and up many steep hills. Some days just go like that.

And some days don't. There is little else as pure, elating and life affirming than a single superb day on a bicycle. Whether traveling 100 miles on a year long bike journey, or cycling around town on a warm summer day visiting friends. The bicycle transports us physically, but emotionally as well. Riding a bicycle releases chemicals in our bodies that elate our mood, riding a bicycle brings us into communion with the winds, the terrain, the planet that lives under, around and above us. You smell the world, you hear the creeks, the hidden animals scurrying off, you know the gentle roll of the planet. And you see others on bikes and you smile, you and them are part of a community. In all my time bicycle touring, I have never seen someone walk over to someone in a car and ask them about their trip, where they are going, etc. But, every time I stop anywhere, someone will come up to me and start a conversation. It's not too often now a days for people to engage in conversations with strangers. But that’s another thing a bicycle does, it makes you vulnerable and brings out the warmth and kindness in humans. A bicycle is a bicycle, and its a bridge. It can take us to such great places, what we do when we get there is up to us.

From Salmon Arm I continued south towards the touristy towns of Vernon and Kelowna, crossing the lake into West Kelowna for a stay at a warmshower host. It was two days of, excuse my french, "circulation routière horrible et laide". With little option for other routes, I was forced to ride the often litter and rock strewn highway shoulder for many, many miles. Now, in the Okanagan Valley, the semi arid desert landscape has opened up a huge valley before me that shall lead me south to the United States border tomorrow. Once in the US, I go south a wee bit before turning west and crossing through the Cascade mountains and freewheeling it into Seattle in about a week. If you happen to have not yet sent me mail there, do so now to:

Ross Guberman

Sonadei, LLC

PO Box 99133

Seattle, WA 98139-0313

Naturally, see all the ups and downs via photographs of my two weeks in Canada at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics. And so, farewell to Canada, which tested me in many ways, offered up it's most splendid beauty, cost me a pretty canadian penny, and taught me to better understand the old hiker adage: The difference between an ordeal and adventure is your mindset. Till next in the USA, keep pedaling and keep smiling.

Interlude: Icefields Parkway (Banff and Jasper National Parks)

2011-08-14T16:26:00.000-07:00

Sneaky little Canada. Just when I had you pegged, you go and throw your best shot at winning me back. The Icefields Parkway is one of the top 20 bicycle rides you can do on Earth. From Lake Louise to the town of Jasper, through Banff and Jasper National Parks, the Icefields Parkway traverses along snow capped mountains, mirror glaicer lakes, glaciers themselves, and incredible views non stop. I spent two days cycling along this great road and have to admit, Canada aint that bad. Enjoy the photos and of course find them all at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, and if you are sending mail, I'll be in Seattle at the end of August. Till next time, probably from the USA, keep pedaling.

Cycling in Canada: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

2011-08-11T15:45:00.000-07:00

“What is your job?” Well, I did work for a bike organization but I now am biking. “So you have no job?” Not in the way your define one. “Do you have a wife and kids?” If I did would I be biking? “So, you are coming into Canada with no job and no ties to the US?” God I hate the border. Am I, on a bike, that much of a threat to the holiness that is the colony of England called Canada? Is having a job a requirement to enter or exit a country, of its imaginary lines drawn on paper? With a huff and a puff my passport was handed back and I entered British Columbia with a new set of grumpy pants adorned and a bad taste in my mouth.

The long day to Cranbrook where I had a warmshower introduced me to the difference between US traffic and Canadian traffic. That being, there was more of it, and the drivers were much less nice as they passed me in than they have been in the States. And then stopping at a little store, I was reminded of another big difference. Everything in Canada is super expensive for no reason. A nice night inside and the next day it was off north towards Fairmont Hot Springs and along the Columbia Valley.

The Rockies have been on my eastern side for a while now, and some other range on my west as I biked north. The scenery was nice but diluted by the non stop traffic, logging trucks, and RV's that aren't capable to giving a vulnerable road user a little bit of extra space. Getting to Fairmont, the springs of course were located at the top of the hill (typical) and when I got there it seemed the only way to enjoy the “natural” hot springs was to pay to sit in the water fed pools. Luckily, I meet a nice couple who informed me of some free baths up the hill, where I went and soaked for a while. Upon returning they offered to have me pitch my tent in their space, hence saving me the job of hunting for a free stealth spot. You can ONLY stay in Fairmont in an RV, no tenting. I felt oh so welcome.

It was another day in the Columbia Valley north towards Brisco and another warmshower. I passed through Radium, where the next day I would return to enter into Kootney National Park, which leads to Banff. The first of the two passes that day was the steepest, but not so bad. What was bad is the way Canada runs it's parks. They don’t have a sign, but they are basically saying “We are not welcoming to bicycle tourers or anyone not in a vehicle” They charge a per day use fee, the same if in a car, RV, bike or foot. Fair? No. The campgrounds have zero accommodations for hikers/bikers, unlike nearly all the parks in the States. Plus, the campgrounds charge astronomical fees for the privilege of sleeping on the earth. The end of my day saw an hour and a half of rain, and I pulled into the Lake Louise Hostel, soaked and cold. Of course, it got worse when the price to stay was nowhere near the price shown on the hostel pamphlet. Why? Because they are purposely misleading and put the winter prices without saying it. I am staying another night but volunteering with housekeeping and will stay for free. There are still clouds and rain forecast all day, and to enjoy the ride north I would prefer clearer skies.

The good, the bad and the ugly thus far. The natural landscape is amazing, the mountains and very sharp and clear as they are younger. The bad and ugly is the how I feel absolutely unwanted and unwelcome in Canada, and while I am trying to let go of these issues and allow myself to enjoy my time here, I can honestly say that I not only would, and hopefully will, never return to Canada, but would not recommend, despite the natural beauty, for a bike tourer to come here. Shame on Canada. I don't want to be super negative and complain in this post, but I also hope that anyone who is thinking of bicycle touring might take my advice and not venture to Canada until such a time as they adjust their policies and structure to be welcoming to those of us who travel and live without the use of a motor vehicle.

From here, I will head north along the Icefields Parkway for two more days and then exit Jasper National Park and make my way southwest towards the US border at Washington State. And while I very much want to enjoy the scenery and not wear a pair of grumpy pants (makes cycling difficult), I will be cycling as far as possible each day to get back to the US and out of this English backwaters known as Canada.

Check out the current Canadian photos at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics . Well my grumpy Binglers, keep pedaling with a smile on yer face.

Biking to the Sun

2011-08-06T15:29:00.000-07:00

mountains in lake mcdonald

There have been few places that I have cycled to in the last 3 months that have left me nearly breathless due to their profound majesty, beauty, and magicalness. Glacier National Park is one of those few places, and despite the cars and crowds, the grandeur and sereness that exist there are well worth the annoyances of all the other travelers. Of course, I didn't just pop into the park, i first floated.

My rest day in Missoula saw me being a local and floating down the Clark river on a tube, getting dinner with Food Not Bombs and giving Eduardo a little service. The next day turned out to be my longest day thus far, leaving Missoula and following the valley out only to turn northward into another amazing valley as I cycled 111 miles to Swam lake and collapsed.

A scant 85 miles the next day and I was in West Glacier where I got a little taste of the park by camping at the biker sites in Apgar campground near lake McDonald. But i wasn't ready for the park just yet, so i headed out and passed south of the park, along the flathead river, up and over Marias Pass and my 6th continental divide crossing to end the day at East Glacier. From there it was the up and down hills to St Mary and finally into the park, camping at Rising Sun as Glacier doesn't allow bikes on Going To The Sun road from 11-4pm. I had heard there was construction so for the first time set my alarm for 4:30am so I could have the whole road to myself.

mountains in st mary lake

The next morning at 5:30, after my alarm clearly didn't wake me, I greeted the rising sun casting a pinkish hue on the snow and glacier tipped mountains as I headed up towards Logan's Pass, and yet another continental divide crossing. It was a slow, bumpy downhill due to the construction but from one valley to the next, the sights and sounds of Glacier never failed. My Glacier ride ended at Whitefish State park where I camped along the lake.

wild goose island

mcdonald valley

And it is now that I find myself on the edge of America and Canada in Rexford. Tomorrow I cross and enter British Columbia for a while as I cycle due north towards Banff National Park and Jasper National Park. Till next time, enjoy all of Montana and Glacier pics at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics, send me mail in Seattle, and keep on pedaling!!!!

The Newest Bingle Sensation

2011-07-31T16:03:00.000-07:00

Hey all you Bingaholics. Thought that the Bingleverse couldn't get any better? Wrong. Now you can easily tell all your friend sbaout the wild and wacky adventures over in Bingle land by simply telling them to head over to www.binglebybingle.com and they will magically find their way via the internet, now on computers, to this little humble blog. So, please spread the word and tell people to come on over to binglebybingle.com.

May the bingle be with you.

Big Ride, Big Sky

2011-07-31T08:32:00.000-07:00

Montana, like so many other states, begins somewhere else. For Montana, it started in Yellowstone after spending a day cycling from the campground to the Old Faithful area, checking out all the geysers, hot springs, bubbling mud, elephant herds, and the tourists. Me and the Swede left Yellowstone and Wyoming early in the morning, and entered Montana with slight winds and beautiful mountains greeting us. We turned north and our slights winds of course became strong headwinds all the way on our 90 mile jaunt to Ennis where we camped along the Madison river.

Heading out we bumped into some tourers I had meet in the Tetons and again in Yellowstone, and they told us about the world famous “Bike Hostel” in Twin Bridges, where bike tourers are treated to a free campground, hot showers, water, screened in sitting area, and plain old respect and good treatment from the townfolk. And so instead of a long 70 miler, it became a dainty 40 miler, giving me and the Swede time to check out the old ghost gold rush towns of Virgina and Nevada City.

Of course, making one day shorter means the next day has to be a little longer, and so it turned a day with two passes into a 75 miler day. Crossing Badger and Big Hole pass, topping at 7,400 feet, we tiredly freewheeled it into the little town of Wisdom where the American Legion has a little park on the river where you can camp for free. In Wisdom, they also don't really follow the normal rules of summer and so the next morning we awoke to temperatures of 34 degrees. Wonderful. Being fully donned in my warm clothes, it was about 12 miles until I was able to slowly remove my layers and bask in the growing sun.

Two more passes, Chief Joseph and Lost Trail, and my 5th crossing of the continental divide, along with a momentary visit to Idaho left us with a killer downhill into the Bitteroot Valley towards our warm shower host in Hamilton. We arrived sweaty and tired, and were greeted warmly as has been the case on my entire trip. A huge dinner and awesome pancakes the next morning set us up well for the sorta downhill ride into Missoula. Had a good stretch of bike path along with a bad stretch of trafficy highway, but rolled into Missoula just in time to visit Adventure Cycling, get our free ice creams, our photos taken, and some needed info about both our upcoming routes. We checked out the Celtic Festival before setting up camp at our warm shower host.

And now the Swede has left for Seattle and I am once again a solo bicycle tourer. From Missoula I will head north to Glacier National Park, first riding south of the park and then coming back east along Going to the Sun Road before heading north into Alberta and British Columbia to make my way to the fabled Banff National Park.

Lots of mountains, lots of glacier lakes, lots of amazing scenery awaits. My love for cycling, for the land, and for life only keeps growing. Each day I try to encapsulate more and more the signature quote of this blog, to "divest myself of the holds that would hold me". Remember, you can send me mail in Seattle, where I will be around the end of August:

Sonadei, LLC
PO BOX 99133
Seattle, WA 98139-0313
USA

Check out the most up to date photos of my trip at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics Keep pedaling.

Interlude: Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks

2011-07-26T07:04:00.000-07:00

Words can't really do justice for the beauty I rode in from Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, so here are a few of the over 300 (!) pictures I took. Some are now online, but I will slowly be putting more and more up as internet time allows. I'm now in Big Sky and will be following more or less the Adventure cycling route from West Yellowstone to Missoula, and from there head north to Glacier National Park. I also now think I will once again ride into British Columbia Canada and go to Banff and then head back down into Washington as it seems time is on my side.

Chris posted an interesting blog about life, love and biking that all should read. Having been on the road for nearly 3 months, I have many conversations with many different people, but the consensus is usally that they think it is great what I am doing, but they really want to know what job i worked at and what job i will work at after. That seems to dicatate so many people's lives instead of letting thier life, the planet, the amazingness and adventure that surrounds us to lend it's gentle hand to our path. I'm learnign everyday what freedom and love truly mean, at least to me, and will share these thoughts at a later time.

Awesome riding behind, awesome riding ahead. I hope everyone is able to, at least briefly, to experience freedom and love at its purest, to feel alive beyond what we think capable, and of course, to go on a very long bike ride. For now, with freedom and love in my heart, my eyes, my legs and my mind, keep pedaling.

Check out the growing picture collection at picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics.

From North to South to North

2011-07-21T19:39:00.000-07:00

For a few brief days I cycled in splendid northern Utah. Sure, the road to Vernal was one of the worst I have ever rode one, getting air horned off the road by a passing semi, but once there, not only did I have the pleasure of a days rest with a great warmshower host, but I also got to watch the new Harry Potter. Yay.

I left Vernal heading due north, despite the warnings of 8% grades and 10 switchbacks, which were true but not as bad as it sounded. I headed north to Flaming Gorge National Recreation area, a place I knew nothing about nor had heard of till recently. I was pleasantly surprised. After cycling uphill for a while through various rock formations, the aspen grove began and a new world greeted me. At the top of the climb, I hit red canyon. The canyon is about 4,000 ft wide and 1,700 feet deep, a mini grand canyon with nobody else around.

I skirted the gorge on the west side, bombing downhill at 44.7 mph (my fastest ever) to the little town of Manila before crossing out of Utah and back into Why oh Why Wyoming and camping at the edge of the gorge. A windy night and i was on my way back into the high desert of Wyoming, crossing through the bustling town of Green River where i visited the free museum and waited out yet another storm. A long 95 mile day through desert and i camped at a BLM site where there were more mosquitoes then any place on earth. also, a storm that had 40 to 50mph winds howling at my tent for 20 minutes, but i survived.

Two more day riding in the desert, camping in BLM land and I am now literally at the foot of the Grand Tetons in Jackson hole. I am staying with friends of a warmshower host who have warmly welcomed me to their home. Tomorrow, I will actually bike to the park and spend a night or two there before heading north into Yellowstone where I will battle RV's and Bison and Bears, spending again a few days camping and hiking before finally heading into western Montana.

Thats where I's at yo. Check I say Check out the photos: picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics and remember you can send me mail at

Ross Guberman
Sonadei, LLC
PO BOX 99133
Seattle, WA 98139-0313
USA

Keep pedaling.

Crossing Colorado

2011-07-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

Colorful Colorado has been full of colorful surprises. For a state that I hadn't intended on biking to when I first left Burlington, I now couldn’t be happier that I did. The wonderful front range towns of fort Collins and Boulder, with their biking, beers and babes were all so wonderful and relaxing. And of course crossing the highest point on my trip in Rocky Mountain National Park wasn't too bad either. But there is another side to Colorado, and it lies west of the mountains.

Having crossed RMNP, I descended into Grand Lake, which sits at over 8,000ft high. Did a small day hike to Adams Falls and generally allowed my legs to return to normal. Leaving Grand Lake, about 2 miles out, my drive side pedal began screaming the most hideous sound I have ever heard. So I prayed for a bike shop in Granby, and lo, there was. A scant 2 hours later after rebuilding both corroded pedals and I was on my way, but not alone. No, it seems 30 other bikers were going my way. Bike and Build, a non-profit that has crossed the country for over 8 years on various routes, has bikers biking and then stopping and building for Habitat for Humanity. Their route mirrors mine all the way to the Tetons, and in Colorado I saw a lot of them. From Granby it was a wonderful downhill day to Kremmling. A night of camping and the next day it was off to Steamboat.

On the way I had two passes, Muddy and Rabbit Ears. And I had to cross the divide twice. Accomplishing this was well worth the 7 mile, 7% grade descent into Steamboat Springs where I maxed at 38 mph. Stayed with a group of amazing people and on my day off went to a concert to see my home town music star, Grace Potter. All in all, I enjoyed the Boat and the relaxed attitude. Leaving Boat had me heading on an 85 mile day to Maybell, which I was told is conveniently located in the middle of nowhere. But, it did have me and 30 other people camping in their little park for the night. Got some dinner, talked about Peace Corps, meet a guy walking west to east carrying a cross, and enjoyed watching the comradeship these people had with each other. I left early the next morning on a 90 mile stint that took me through the desolate but pretty western edge of Colorado, past Dinosaur National Monument, into the actual town of Dinosaur, and finally into Vernal, Utah where I am now.

I entered Colorado on July 1^st and left on July 16^th, having taken nearly a week off in Boulder. The altitude isn't as bad now that I'm only around 5,000 to 6,000 feet. Making better time, got high spirits and lots of amazingness on the way. Next up is Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area, home to the largest aspen grove and perhaps the largest living organism, excluding the planet. From there it's back into Wyoming and towards the Tetons and Yellowstone. For now, I'm loving the desert landscape, the sagebrush, the sandstone cliffs, the red and white and bluish mountains. I so look forward to coming back to Utah, but ion the south and in October. But this landscape is breathtakingly beautiful, quiet, and harsh.

Check out all of my Colorado pics , and of course, as always, with freedom and love, keep pedaling.

Interlude: Rocky Mountain National Park

2011-07-11T09:22:00.000-07:00

It's not too often that in one day you can bike 25 miles, all uphill, gain over 5,000 ft in elevation, crossing alpine, sub alpine and tundra environments, and then bomb downhill, for 25 miles losing 5,000 ft in elevation. I got the pleasure to do this on Trail ridge, the scenic road that traverse Rocky Mountain National Park. At the highest, the road hits about 12,100 feet, before descending and crossing the continental divide somewhere around 10,000 ft. At the 11,000 foot mark, the trees stop, the tundra starts and man oh man was it COLD. had to put on all my warm clothes. Brrrr, lots of snow, and lots of beauty.

Of course, many more pictures of this amazing place can be seen here: https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics. For now, from Grand Lake, and until I possibly get internet again, keep pedaling.

PS: Here is my next mailing address where you can send me letters, well wishes, and/or other goodies and surprises. I will most likely be in Seattle sometime in mid/late august.

Ross Guberman
c/o
Sonadei, LLC
PO BOX 99133
Seattle, WA 98139-0313
USA

Radical Changes...

2011-07-08T12:34:00.000-07:00

I proudly present to the entire Bingelverse, the new and improved "Eduardo the Touring Bike" !!!!!

Before

After

It'll take a little getting used to have the different distribution of weight, but I think this will end up working out better than the trailer. Packing is a little different, as I can't willy nilley throw stuff in the trailer, and I had to rid myself of nearly 10 lbs of extra bits and pieces. Got a handle bar bag to house my valuable items, like my multi tool, and some extra storage containers for water when i hit those lonely western Wyoming stretches.

my green highlighted route thus far

From Boulder, I will go to Estes Park, get used to being 8,000 feet up, then cycle along the highest, continuously paved road in north america, Trail Ridge Road in Rock Mountain National Park, where I'll hit an altitude of a bit over 12,000 feet before freewheeling to Grand Lake. Then its across western Colorado and into Utah before making a sharp turn north, threw Flaming Gorge National recreation Area and heading northwest towards the Tetons and Yellowstone and into Montana. Check out the ever growing pictures I update on my picasa page, https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics and as always, keep pedaling.

Ye Olde Two Month Update

2011-07-04T18:07:00.000-07:00

Some would call it 61 days, others would call it 2 months. No matter your vocular of choice, I have cycled from Burlington, Vermont to Boulder, Colorado. Who would have thunk it? I suppose I would since its sorta what I had planned. But not really. When I left Burlington I didn’t think I'd be coming south to Boulder, I had thought I would be cycling across Wyoming. Thankfully that idea was scrapped. And so many Bingler's are asking how its been going, what have been highlights, lowlights, stats, etc etc? So many questions my little Binglets, and since I have so much time, I can answer some of them.

But first, an important topic needs to be discussed. Its something I haven't talked about in this blog, only a little in letters to a friend. Its about food. In particular, animal based food. We all know that living vegan is the 100% only correct way to live, but what happens when your diet is put to the strains of location, phsyical demands, and extreme lusting of ice cream? You get a mental war if you's be's me's. As the saying goes, “Go Vegan or Go Home”. I do not and will never eat the flesh of an animal, but I have been eating, sometimes out of necessity from the kindness of my hosts, and sometimes of my own choice, some animal by-product food such as ice cream, dairy, and eggs. And really, these food items are absolutely equal in the suffering they cause the sentient beings they come from as meat. And this is really hard for me. Can I expect those willing to host me, already going out of their way to show me kindness, to sometimes rack their brains about cooking a way they know nothing about? Is it so bad to every once in a while to have dairy or eggs in my food? Maybe yes, maybe no. The real problem, and what has been hardest on me, is when it's done by deliberate choice. Lordy I crave ice cream, or at least I think I do. Because after wards, was it really that good, was it really worth the money or the mental back and forth I go through after wards? It never is. But it is and perhaps will be something I continue to struggle with on my journey, and I hope to be able to share more on this important topic for me with my compassionate Binglers as time marches on.

But now its time, drum roll please, for the TWO MONTH CYCLING STATSITICS:

Left Burlington, Vermont May 3^rd – arrived Boulder, Colorado July 3^rd.

61 days: 55 days cycling, 6 days rest

3,425.1 miles cycled

62.2 average miles per day

Longest mile day: 105.98 miles

Longest cycling day: 9 hours, 9 minutes

8 National Parks/Monuments/Lakeshores: Sleeping Bear Dunes, Pictured Rocks, Apostle Islands, Pipestone, Badlands, Minuteman, Mount Rushmore, Wind Cave

One broken spoke

Countless Nomad flats

Thee rear tire flats

One fall

One bear, one wolf, one moose

19 free/wild/stealth camping

7 paid camping

22 warmshower

11 couchsurfing

2 other hosts

8 states: Vermont, New York, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota,Wyoming and Colorado

2 Countries: USA and Canada

7 jars of peanut butter

Highlights include cycling along Lake Michigan, the bike trails in Minnesota, the Badlands and Black Hills, and riding into Boulder yesterday knowing it was my last day riding with the trailer. Many highlights await. Lowlights include mid-Michigan, South Dakota, and eastern Wyoming. Blah. I have revised and revised again possible routes forward for the next two months, and I am slowly getting a better picture of how I might go, with a few spots still up for debate. Idaho really throws me for a loop. But, it looks like I might ride Glacier in Montana the opposite way I had originally planned, I think I'll go east to west across, then drop down maybe into Missoula? Who knows?

During my sabbatical in Boulder I'll take care of bike stuff and will soon post some before and after pictures of my steel steed, Eduardo, in all his glory. Hope you have all enjoyed the journey so far, and thanks to everyone who reads and comments. I look forward to continue sharing my journey and hope you all stick along for the ride.

Happy July 4th

2011-07-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

Well my flag waving, patriotic Binglers, happy July 4th. Here's to freedom, to biking, to Life.

Forever Windy

2011-06-30T14:33:00.000-07:00

It would seem impossible, nay, unfathomable, for a place to be more open, more vast, more desolate than the plains and prairie of South Dakota. Well my ignorant Binglers, I have found such a place. The locals call it Wyoming. I call it “the god awful place of unyielding winds, vast stretches of road without water or shade and elevations over 6,000ft (aka Wyoming)”.

Leaving Hot Springs South Dakota, I had about another 26 miles in the now seemingly crowded and cosmopolitan state. Crossing into the “Forever West” state, I headed south. 60 mile stretch of no services, no water, no trees, only me, brewing storms, hail, lighting, and fellow bike tourers. Thats right, finally rode for a stretch with other weary travelers who had been a day or two ahead of me throughout South Dakota. They are on their way to the coast from Philly, and while we parted ways in Lusk, it's fun knowing they are out there somewhere in the wastelands of central Wyoming. God speed.

Stayed two nights in Lusk. Watched a softball game that brought back memories of shoeless Joe Jackson, as I learned the fix was in. Leaving the next day, the winds were blowing steady from the south. Had I gone north from Lusk, the winds would have been blowing from the north. Abhor is the strongest word I currently have to relate my utter hatred for the headwinds I have biked in for two weeks. And with the elevation, the little rolling hills have felt like mountain passes as I huff and puff and get my bike blown down. Somehow, after 85 miles and near exhaustion, made it to Hawk Spring State Park and was bestowed with cold spring water.

After fixing a flat rear tire and yet again flat nomad tire, biked into even stronger winds, higher elevations, and 100 degrees towards Cheyenne, the state capital. It was to be a 65 mile day, but this biking bingler wouldn't have none of it. I threw the thumb. Everything that passed me, I had a thumb going out, until finally, someone stopped and offered me mercy. Biked 40, hitch 25, and made it to Cheyenne covered in hay, dry sweat, and sweetly only 2 blocks away from where I am couchsurfing.

Another day off to get my legs for the ride into Colorado tomorrow. First stop, Fort Collins and then to the end of part one, Boulder. I can already taste the sweet flowing waters of Boulder. My bike will undergo a metamorphosis, as will the landscape I will encounter in the next two months, 2,500 miles. Wyoming is one of the very few states that I will actually be in twice, as I will eventually come back into the western part of the state to go to the Tetons and Yellowstone.

Stayed tuned for my two month wrap up, some stats, and before/after pics. You'll also notice a new little paypal donattion button on the right hand side of the blog. I have decided that those who are willing and desirous can donate small sums that I will donate to various bicycle related groups, collectives, organizations that I come in contact with on my travels. Till then, keep pedaling.

The Many Faces of South Dakota: Part 2 of 2

2011-06-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

The words unusual, extreme, severe and record breaking no longer have the umph they once had. With the Missouri river flooding and rain fall beyond belief, this is the year where new adjectives to describe our world are needed. On the bicycle I not only see, but feel and experience the nuances of nature, weather and how the human species has chosen to affect the delicate balance of the planet. The earth herself has tides, ice ages and droughts, heat waves and thunderstorms. Her moods and climates vary as part of the cycle of life. But we have thrown a wrench into the mix, and have taken her moods and made them into viscous mood swings that seem to be getting worse and worse.

As I have crossed South Dakota, this state where they used to go weeks on end without rain, I have ridden with rain and the threat of rain everyday. The rivers are all flooding, and will remain so until the winter. The prairie has abandoned houses from those who rushed in to an environment, tried to make it something it wasn't, and learned a hard lesson. We have chosen to create a civilization and way of life that has as a necessary foundation: pollution, violence, war, greed, anger, lies, and hatred. We have chosen this. While I see much of this on the road (cough CARS cough), I also see that which makes the human animal so wonderful. Our love for each other, our warmth, sharing, care and kindness are attributes that make the human community so amazing. We can choose to destroy the waters, the skies, other peoples and places, or we can choose something different.

… From the capital Pierre, I entered my so far longest stretch of no mans land. A 66 mile no service section where, had it been the normal 100 degrees most likely would have found me eating the abundant grass searching for water. Instead, with a grin on my face as the headwind battled me, I made it to Midland and partook of a feast hosted by a very large family reunion. The next morning, it was Badlands or bust. Another wonderful headwind made my journey all the more difficult, as did the near constant rainfall that day. However, it was worth it as I cycled into the eroded rocks, cliffs, ravines and colored soils that have seen large mammals that no longer roam this world. I also learned that the Badlands are greener due to the rains than they have been for a long, long time. Set up camp in the high winds, meet another bike tourer from NYC going to San Francisco who made the horrible mistake of putting her wheel in the bike stand and having the wind blow it over. This will always equal one thing: bent rim.

With rains and winds waking me, I got an early start on the scenic drive and got to see, feel, taste and smell this wonderful geological landscape nearly by myself. Plus, without cars and rvs on the road I was able to switchback up and over the 4 major passes that, with the wind, made me take over 4 hours to go 25 miles. And I still had 65 more to go!?!?!

First, it was a break at Wall Drug, the “South of the Border” of the Midwest. Got my ice water and had a 20 mile stint on the interstate before getting off and continued to plow into the head winds and the constantly rolling grasslands. About 10 miles out of Rapid City, and after over 9 hours of cycling, my wonderful warmshower hosts rescued me and saved me from most likely another 2 hours of biking, and a killer hill to get to their house. Rapid is a prime gateway to the Black Hills, and with the pine trees, mountains, and zig zagging roads, after more than a week of the South Dakota vastness I made it to it's crowning jewel.

The jewel, however, is hilly. With pines, and cottonwoods, jagged rocks piercing the sky, hills of dark reds and greens, twisting mountain roads with tunnels and bridges, the Black Hills are a magical cycling experience. My first stop was Mount Rushmore, which I hadn't really thought about being a mountain. Well, it is. 10% grade for 2 miles of grueling climb and I panted and sweated my way to the viewing platform of the stone carved faces. Then I left. And left with a furious downhill until, as all my downhills would prove, another grueling climb began fresh.

Even though I sweated and grunted and ached form the climbs, the hills provided me with wonderful vistas, pure and clean energy emanating form the trees, rocks and abundant wildlife. After a night camping in Custer State Park, I hit the roads early to avoid traffic, but it turns out I only avoided car traffic. Had my first encounter with the giants beasts, Bison. There two stood, carelessly in the road, staggeringly big and smelly, and in my way. So I stopped, and waited, and waited, and waited. 20 minutes a car came by and drove right up to the bison. It didn't care. He yelled and slapped his car and finally, slowly, it walked just enough for the car to pass. Soon a park ranger came and gave me some blockage so I could get by without completely fearing for my little life being squashed by the bison. Of course, this was all on top of being ridiculed by prairie dogs all day long. They chirped, and barked and called out to me for hours. Amazing.

Underneath the waving grasslands, as I discovered, is wind cave. One of the largest, most complex cave systems in the world, only 5% has even been discovered yet. Spent an hour underground, seeing delicate formations nowhere else on earth. And it was nice and cool, an added treat. From there it was to Hot Springs, where I am staying two nights and visited the Mammoth Site, an ancient sinkhole where hundreds of mammoths fell in and their bones have been well preserved. And I imagine a certain brother of mine snickering that I too probably got stuck in the sink hole. But no, I didn't. They didn’t have any turnstiles there.

boxwork at wind cave

And so, from Hot Spring I will end my mammoth adventure of South Dakota. I head west to the Wyoming border and then due south for several days as I make my way to Boulder Colorado. Remember, if you want to send me mail or any surprises, I will be at this address in about a week-ish and staying for about a week-ish. Check out all my SD pics https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics , and keep on keeping on.

Send me mail at:

Ross Guberman

c/o Jamie Seiffer

3345 Chisholm Trail (#206)

Boulder, CO 80301

Interlude: The Badlands

2011-06-22T13:30:00.000-07:00

One might be snorting under their breath saying, " Isn't all of South Dakota bad land?" Very funny. sure, its flat, and rolling, and windy, and rainy, and endless and endless and endless. But, after days and days, you get to something magical. You discover that under all this waving grass is a hidden world of million year old soils and rock, ancient animal fossils that no longer roam this world. You get to the Badlands.

The magic doesn't stop. From Rapid city, I will discover the Black Hills and the jewels of South Dakota. Stay tuned for part 2 of my South Dakota journey, but for now enjoy the Badlands and see all the pics at https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics

The Many Faces of South Dakota: Part 1 of 2

2011-06-18T11:02:00.000-07:00

The myths are true, cycling in South Dakota isn't like cycling anywhere else. The wide vistas are beautiful and stark reminders of the emptiness you are in. At times exhilarating, other times frightening as deep dark symphonies crash overhead, and the wind. My god, the WIND! Let us take a bike ride to the past when we first came to South Dakota...

sioux falls

Water water water everywhere, In my trailer too. For 12 miles I rode in the hardest deluge of rain I had ever had the unique pleasure of biking through. It rained so hard and so fast that the streets of Sioux Falls became lakes and ragging rivers. The streets were so full of water my nomad was half under water as I biked to my warmshower host for the night. Both he and I were soaked getting my things inside his apartment, but then just like that, the rains left. So I visited the namesake of the town, Sioux Falls.

Despite being inside, woke up and was out early, and I needed every hour as my second day saw another kind of weather: Wind. Gusting, and I mean, GUSTING headwinds 100% of my way to Mitchell and another warmshower host. Took me over 8 hours to cycle the 70 miles, and my legs for the first time since leaving Vermont were super sore. Mitchell, of course, is home to the now only Corn Palace in the world. Yup. My next day and another new weather pattern, wind reversal. The same gusting headwinds became my best friend in the whole world as it was now a gusting tailwind, and I cycled 100 miles in 6 hours, and my legs feel fine. Massive storms rolled through at night, crashing thunder and lighting, and I was told what a tornado siren sounds like. Similar to my black bear, its something I hope to never have to experience. Not even once. Nope.

From Kennebec I went through the Fort Pierre National Grassland (it is what it sounds like) to the capitol of the state, Pierre which sits on the Missouri and has had issues with the river's flooding like everywhere else. Bike paths and river side parks are all underwater, and will be for a long time. The dam above Pierre is releasing more water than Niagara falls. Crazy. Taking a much deserved day of rest here in the capital before heading back into the vastness of the state towards the Badlands and Black Hills.

For now, check out the pictures of my trip thus far at https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics and see the newest post by Chris at http://reallylongbiketrip.blogspot.com/

And as always, keep pedaling.

The Land of 10,000 Bike Trails

2011-06-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

It seems Minnesota has nearly as many bike trails as it does lakes. I rode on three major state trails, over 100 miles of paved, off road cycling pleasure. And now, having traversed the state from top to bottom, I am in the fabled city of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. But how did I get here....

Minneapolis

Leaving the Twin Cities was a pleasant, 40 mile bike trail system called the Grand Rounds, which let me cycle around three lakes (one twice just for fun, or because I missed my turn) and took me to a bike trail following various highways till I was way out of town and on my way to my couchsurfing host in Faribault. A pleasant night with good conversation and the next morning I was on a bike trail again, another 40 miles, towards my amazing warmshower hosts for the night in Mankato. I followed the Sakatah Singing Hills State Trail and popped out into Mankato. A great dinner, a personalized tour of Dotson Iron Casting (saw white hot iron being poured and molded) and a great nights sleep, and I can say i truly enjoyed Mankato.

Then the rains came. And they have yet to let up as many living along the Missouri river know first hand as its been flooding like crazy. And with the rains have come the flat, non-ending farm lands. Spent a night in a reconstructed 1800's wood cabin, and visited Pipestone National Monument and camped the night away in Split Rock Creek State Park.

That brings us to now, Sioux Falls where I am staying with a warmshower host before heading west into the vast interior of South Dakota, and where more rains await. I take the good with the bad, the ups and the downs. Often I smile, sometimes I frown. I pedal each day, across this great land, making my way... bingle by bingle.

Keep Pedaling.

Eastside

2011-06-08T15:57:00.000-07:00

In one way or another, I have always lived east of the Mississippi. I'm proud of that fact. For no reason really. But all of my biking thus far has also been east of the Mississippi I could be proud of that, but that would be pointless, as I am now no longer east of the great river. I have crossed the ragging torrents of the Mississippi, and shan’t see her waters again until I cross back to the eastern shores when riding in the south. For now, lets give some props to the east

I left Duluth following it's beautiful riverside bike trail that lead me to the trail head of the Willard Munger State Trail. This trail, as it currently stands, is 67 miles of off road paved bike path that lead me to the casino town of Hinckley. While the day was car free, it was full of something. Obsessive heat. Only a week ago it was 40 degrees and I was praying for warm weather. Well, I got it on a 90 degree scorching day that left me dripping. Guzzling water the whole day, I camped for my first time in a non-warmshower house. They let me in, let me shower, and provided me with needed rest and hospitality above and beyond.

The next day, while another 16 miles of paved off road bike path greeted me, so did an even hotter day with temps near the 100's. All my water tanks were full up, and I drank them through before calling it a short day and ending at the William O’Brien State Park along the St. Croix river. Took a dip in the lake, took a shower, took a walk, and took respite.

I then followed various bike paths into the twin cities of St. Paul and Minneapolis. The Cities have been making amazing strides in regards to bicycle infrastructure, as I saw in practice all over the state with 57 paved rail trails. Leading into St. Paul was the Gateway trail. From that's end, I freewheeled down to the Mississippi River Trail, part of which is a 10 state trail that follows the river. Naturally, I got insanely lost and had no idea what direction I was biking DESPITE the fact that there was a particularly large river to orient myself with. Regardless, various green ways and bike paths later, I made my way through the cities and to my warmshower host for the night. From Duluth, I road on nearly 100 miles of paved, off road bike trails. That's amazing.

So now I'm a west side boy, and I’m proud of that fact.

In other news, many Bingaholics have been pleading with me to give some scope to my biking. So here it is, using a system perfected by the Mongols as they conquered Asia and Europe. I call it: As the Moon, Does the Bike

Phase I – This phase is my 4 month solo biking across the northern parts of the country. We can break it down into two main parts. Part 1 is my leaving Burlington, Vermont on May 3^rd and ends when I arrive in Boulder, Colorado. Part 1 will be more flat than hilly, and these two months are training for my legs. Part 2 starts from Boulder and ends in Portland, Oregon on September 7^th. Part 2 will see me cross the continental divide not once, not twice, not thrice, but FOUR times. I nickname this the “You Crazy Boy” Segment.
Phase II – Upon arrival of my friend and touring partner, Chris, on September 8^th in Portland, we will travel south along the Pacific coast towards southern California, and then proceed to tour the southwest, slowly making our way towards Austin, Texas for the new year.
Phase III – New Year, new friends. Joining the crew in Austin will be Brittany and Christine, and together we will tour somewhere in the south, depending on the weather. Not sure. But when Christine leaves us to return to Burlington, I know this phase ends and then begins..
Phase IV – The Mystery Phase.

Also, as I will be staying with a friend in Boulder, you can send me mail now at anytime. I think I will cycle into Boulder around end of June-ish, so get those letters, packages, solid gold bars together and mail me at:

Ross Guberman

c/o Jamie Seiffer

3345 Chisholm Trail (#206)

Boulder, CO 80301

As always, check out my updated pics here: https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics

Keep pedaling.

Land of Cheese

2011-06-05T18:21:00.000-07:00

Did you know that no other state produces more cheese than Wisconsin? Well, you do now. But I didn’t know it until I came to this fabled land. I saw Wisconsin as my next Ontario, a place to visit but most likely pretty quickly onto other places, like Minnesota for example. But to talk about Wisconsin, I of course have to talk a little bit about Michigan.

After leaving Marquette, I made a bee line westward towards Ironwood city. It took me two days, besieged by monstrous thunder storms that howled like the devil howling loudly, with me finding shelter only moments before the onslaught of rain and lightning. These storms brewed, flew, and left quickly and all day long for days on end. I also saw a moose, had a dog chase me for nearly ½ a mile, and saw a wolf which I thought was a coyote but I now think was a wolf which is even scarier. It was really big. Despite the winds, the storms, and the rains, I made to Ironwood and to another example of the amazing hospitality of people, especially warmshower hosts.

A mile out of Ironwood and I shed a tear for Michigan, and said hello to Wisconsin. The day would leave me in Ashland, where I couchsurfed with some bike friendly Northland College students for two nights. Ashland, like many towns in this area, were once very rich big cities thanks to all the various metal ores that were mined. But no more. Ashland, like all the other towns and cities, are struggling as the mines and economy dry up. What will be the fate of towns like Ashland? That depends on the communities I suppose.

From Ashland, I decided to follow the Bayfield Peninsula, which would let me tick off another national lake shore, Apostle Islands, and also let me have at least a little time in Wisconsin. A beautiful day full of sun, warmth and headwinds and I camped the night in the town of Herbster. The next morning, with a nice 5:30am wake up, I was on the hilly road again. Until, the bear. Yes, I have now come across my first (hopefully last) black bear. As I was climbing the hill, about 50ft in front of me I slow a large, slow moving object. It was a bear. I sat and watched the bear lumber into the woods, waited another few minutes to be sure it was gone, and continued on my way. Later on, I saw a deer (not very exciting) but I also say it's tiny, amazingly cute, spotted baby. Seeing the baby deer, which looked like a rabbit from far away, is one of the greatest treasures I have gotten thus far on my trip. Want more baby deer, less bears.

But that’s it for Wisconsin. A four day sojourn that reminds me of Ontario, only I ended up in Duluth Minnesota this time, not Michigan. But I enjoyed Wisconsin. The wildlife, the spring waters, the cheese hats. Yes, strangely, everyone was wearing a cheese hat. All the time. Well, from Duluth I follow the Munger Trail, 3^rd longest paved trail in the world, and from there... who knows. So, till then, keep pedaling.

Goodbye Michigan

2011-06-01T08:48:00.000-07:00

Hiwatha, the largest Indian. Ironwood, MI

And so, over two weeks and 1,000 miles later, I sit on the edge of Michigan and Wisconsin. Tomorrow, I enter the cheese state and go to Ashland. Michigan has been a state of extremes, of beauty and ugliness, of good weather but more often not good weather. So, for everything that Michigan has been that I 100% never expected Michigan to be, I tip my helmet to the state where, yes, my trip truly did begin here.

Goodbye eastern time zone, goodbye great lakes, hello central time zone, and the mid west. a new adventures begins. See all my Michigan pics (along with all my biking pictures) https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics

One Month (AKA Still In Michigan)

2011-05-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Its been one month. I left Burlington Vermont what seems forever ago, but has actually only been about 30 days. I feel far away, and yet I feel like I have barely gone anywhere. As I type this, I have pedaled my bike about 1,700 miles. From the green mountains of Vermont, along the Erie Canal and Mohawk valley of New York, through Niagara falls, along the northern shores of Lake Erie in Ontario Canada, crossed the St Clare river to Michigan, battled weather crossing the dreary midlands of Michigan only to find salvation at lake Michigan. I followed the fabled M 22, vising my first national park, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lake shore. I followed the shores through the wine country of Traverse, along M 199 and the tunnel of tree, to Mackinaw, the end of the lower peninsula. I crossed the 3^rd largest suspension bridge to the upper peninsula, and learned what a sparsely populated place it really is. I rode against the winds for two days to find my way to the largest, and my last, great lake, Superior. I visited my second national park, Painted Rocks National Lake shore, and I visited Marquette, the university city in the UP. In all, I have cycled pretty much a 1,000 miles in Michigan alone. As I leave this state that I have come to know for new states, new roads, new adventures, I say farewell to a land that has been both kind and cruel as I have made my way. I have meet many amazing people, not the least of them my fabulous warmshower and couchsurfing hosts. I now venture into Wisconsin and Minnesota. From there...who knows.

The lake shore of Lake Michigan for me began in Manistee, where I spent the night at Orchard Beach State Campground and meet my first bicycle tourers. Two college age kids roaming around Michigan for 10 days. I spotted their nomad from afar, and we spent the rest of the evening talking and watching the sunset. I then got onto the M-22, which has a aura of its own around Michigan. It follows the coastline all the way back to Traverse City. Went up to Platte lake to stay with a warmshower host and then attended my first ever Asparagus Festival in Empire. Asparagus bread, Asparagus beer, and raw asparagus too. Good times. I then entered Sleeping Bear Dune National Lake shore (There are 4 national lake shores and 2 of them are in Michigan). I rode the 7.5 miles of the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive which has a stop on top of the big dune that towers more than 450 feet, nearly vertical. Then I climbed up a dune and was told it would be a 3 hour hike up and over dunes to get to the lake, so I did just one dune. Spent the night at DH Day campground, and from there continued on the M-22. The road went up and around the peninsula and, spending a night outside Suttons Bay, headed into Traverse City.

Another wonderful night with a warmshower host and I was on my way, following still the Lake Michigan shoreline to the Petosky State Park. Had a roaring fire on a cold night and the next day, despite a 15 mile accidental turn south, rode along the Tunnel of Trees, M-119 to Mackinaw City. I spent the night at the Headlands, an abandoned beach house that has been turned into a public park. Of course, it also seemed to be the home of the worlds most annoying porcupine. Sometime at night, I heard a scratching on my nomad. Bleary eyes and tired, I shone my light and I beheld a porcupine. Well, I shooed him away but he only went into a corner and turned his spiky quilled behind at me. Went back into the tent and tried to forget him. 20 minutes later scratch scratch scratch. Ugggg. Scared him off good only for him to come back an hour later, this time somehow playing with my spokes. Scarred him off so well that he came back an hour later. We repeated this a few times until I suppose at some point I fell asleep or he stopped coming back. Either way, I awoke groggy and grumpy.

That morning I crossed the Mackinaw Bridge. I have now paid $3.50 in tolls since leaving Vermont. After being dropped on the side of the highway, I realized I was finally in the Upper Peninsula, or UP. Got myself some killer maps and started biking, to quickly learn that while the UP is 1/3 the land mass of Michigan, its 3% of the population. Biked for nearly 25 miles without a house, a town, anything. Just wetlands, woods, and the occasional car. This place is vast and empty. Very rugged. Had a good night sleep at the Luce County Park and made my way to Pictured Rocks National Lake shore in Munising and also my first view of Lake Superior. Took a 3 hour boat ride that covered 15 miles of the lake shore, where you can see the various colors and shapes of the eroded soft and hard exposed sandstone. Very beautiful. The next day, I had the pleasure of a steady rain and 40 degrees. Biked 40 miles to Marquette, the largest city in the UP and home to Northern Michigan University. And here I am, couchsurfing for the weekend, taking a day off biking for the first time in over 12 days. I'm at 1,600 miles, and in a few days I will have biked 1,000 miles in Michigan alone.

As the month comes to a close, I can look back to the various weather, the various people, the places and things I have seen. But I am more looking forward to the continued unknown that lays before me. Here are some stats though for the stat keepers:

May 3^rd – May 29^th: 1,620.7 miles. Longest day 105.98 miles, shortest day 32.20. I have biked for 139 hours, 40 minutes and 45 seconds. I have stayed with 7 warmshower hosts, 2 couchsurfing hosts, one friends family. I have wild (free) camped 11 nights and have paid 3 nights. Two days I did not ride. My fastest speed so far is 36.6 mph. New York took me 7 days to cross, Ontario 2, and I have been in Michigan for 16 days thus far.

As always, keep pedaling.

Attention Mail Senders

2011-05-25T13:04:00.000-07:00

I interrupt my Michigan cycling (currently at Burger King in Mackinac City) to announce that I most likely more or less should be in Ashland, Wisconsin in about a week. So, finish up those letters, get to the store to get some treats, and disguise all that cash in an envelope and send me some general delivery mail:

The Ashland Post Office in Wisconsin:
615 Main Street West
Ashland, WI 54806-1300
(715) 682-4848

To send something general delivery, you need to address it as follows:
Ross Guberman
General Delivery
615 Main Street West
Ashland, WI 54806-9999

Hopefully that works, it should. Tomorrow morning I take a little van ride and cross the Mackinac Bridge into the Upper Peninsula. Still Michigan, but it seems like another world. I'll write a real entry about the rest of my time in Michigan in several days, once I actually get out of Michigan, which again, should be about a week (5-7days)

Up to Date Michigan Pics

2011-05-23T12:34:00.000-07:00

Check I say Check them out...

michigan

Ups and downs in Michigan

2011-05-20T11:45:00.000-07:00

Elusive wild Michigan Peacock

My Michigan tale begins in Marine City. This is where my blue water ferry deposited me after spending a few days in Ontario. I had a warmshowers all set up for the day, so I spent some time wandering the city after being treated oh so nicely by the border agents. Marine City, as I had and have seen, has been hit by the poor economic times. I have biked through countless small towns that have boarded up stores, for rent signs, or sometimes simply abandoned shops. It's sad in a way to see this death, but it also reminds me of the transient nature of life, and the bloated ego of humans. We care so much about these things we create, we fight and die over them. But they are nothing. They come, they go. The Earth could care less. So as I pass through small town America, sometimes busting, often not, I don’t feel sad but I feel humbled and happy that I am doing what I am doing to see what really matters, the Earth. Though what I have seen for most of my trip is farm land. Lots and lots of farm land.

From Marine City I went north towards Bay City where I camped a night at the Bay City State Park. Like in Ontario, I sadly wasn't able to pay for the pleasure of sleeping on their hallowed ground. I then went to Midland, a city too but more importantly the trail head for the Pere Marquette Rail Trail. The Pere Marquette Rail Trail is a 30 mile paved trail from Midland to Clare. It has tons of signage, 10 foot wide, well maintained pavement, rest areas, bathrooms, even free air along the way for bikes. It's a perfect example of how to take a non functional rail road and make it a multi use recreational path.

Warmshower host Dean wrenchin on a bike

The path ended in the city of Clare. It was a cloudy day, but the jazz was flowing out of a nice coffee joint. A few stores down is the world famous, or so they claim, Cops and Doughnuts. I was compelled to purchase a ½ pound cinnamon roll which ended up fueling me sugar wise for the next several days. It was on this day that I also hit my first 1,000 miles, only two weeks after leaving Burlington. I ended the day at the Pere Marquette State Campground by Sunrise lake. This is where I set up my hammock for the first time. It took some fanagling, but I got in it. The mosquitoes ended the affair rather quickly. From Coleman, where I had stayed the night before, to the camp ground the terrain finally changed. The farms receded and the rolling forests came. It was such a nice change of pace, and my legs were screaming for some real riding.

(An aside: I am listening as I type this to Regina Spektor. She's good and writes really well. What she is singing about now is about loving yourself, and from there loving someone else, fully. And if that doesn't work out, you pick up your pieces and love yourself again, and work to love someone else again. There are many ups and downs, not just terrain wise, but in my head and heart as I bike. For these next four months, at least, I will more or less be alone as I travel. At times, this isn't a factor. Other times, it's hard. At times, my heart aches for what, and more importantly, whom, I have chosen to leave behind to venture into this unknown. I am supported by them as I travel, but that doesn't stop me from missing them. The people I meet along the way, the wonderful warmshower hosts, all of these people help fill the little voids in my heart, and help propel me forward. We all have our own issues, our own dark clouds that hang above us. And sometimes it pours, and it doesn’t seem like it will end. I can bike each day with a heavy heart for my friends and my family, for the life I ended to begin this one. Instead, and it's not always easy, I use the love and memories I have to help me even when its pouring to be able to look into the rain, and smile. This is winded and long, but its not just about the bike. I am 32 years old. Unsure of the direction I am heading, of the paths that I will trod down. I am trying to live a free and open life, at least for a while, to see where the road may take me. As always, thanks for coming along for the ride.)

Finally, after nearly a week in Michigan, I found the oft spoken of western coast. And it is all they said and more. I have left the barren, wasted farmlands and have entered the magnificent rolling hills, forests and woods, sweeping views of the Lake Michigan coast line, and I have even entered, officially, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lake shore. I have camped in two states parks, Manistee Forest and Orchard Beach, and as I sit next to Platte Lake, I look forward to my dune hike tomorrow. Its a 1,024ft sand dune that takes HOURS to hike up. Amazing.

Sunset over Lake Michigan

So I made it east to west. Now I will follow this little peninsula for a bit till I curve around towards Traverse city, then head north again towards the 12^th largest suspension bridge, the Mackinaw and begin my upper peninsula bike ride.As always, check out my picasa web albums (https://picasaweb.google.com/rossbikepics) as I keep adding more pictures. Till then....

All About Ontario

2011-05-17T04:50:00.000-07:00

In hindsight, if I add up the time it took at customs getting into and out of Canada, it comes close to the amount of time I actually spent in Canada. I crossed out of America and into America's funny looking top hat (Canada) via Rainbow Bridge at the fabled Niagara Falls. For the pleasure of biking on the side of the bridge I paid 50 cents. The first question I was asked, “What are you doing in Canada?”. This was a trick question, or so I made it out to be. I answered, “I'm biking across the country!” I assumed this would wow the guy, I’d get knighted and be on my way. Nope. He replied “Which country?” I forgot Canada was another country. I also forgot for my entire time in Ontario that they don’t speak French, but instead a form of American English. I was always surprised when I spoke to someone. Always. They let me in.

And that first night was spent with yet another amazing warmshower host, a close 15 miles from the border. Every warmshower host I have stayed with has been fabulous. This time was no exception. I was shown the country side, got a glimpse of Toronto, the local wineries, the poor Port Robertson whose bridge got taken out and now have a little ferry, all followed by a vegan curry. Amazing.

Day 2 started with a nice ride on a paved bike path following a canal towards Port Colborne. From there, I got my first view of Lake Erie and even dipped a toe in it's icy waters. I followed the lakes shoreline more or less the rest of the day. I made it to Port Dover, where, it seems they have a little tradition. A while ago, a few motorcyclists got together and rode down to Port Dover. From those humble beginnings, now over 200,000 motorcyclists show up in Port Dover every Friday the 13^th. I was there on Wednesday but already bikers where coming in. I even shared a nice camping area with a few of them. I feel bad for them having a motor do all the work, but hey, whatever floats your boat I suppose. They were all nice people and pretty stoked about my trip.

Leaving Dover as more motorcyclists came in, I continued along the Erie shoreline, watching dark storm clouds bubble over the lake and off in the northern distances, but it was sunny over me. I stopped paying attention and before I knew it, I had cycled 105 miles are was near falling asleep in the saddle. Bypassed what could have been one of the sweetest looking places to camp, only to find the Clearville camp ground. Horribly, the ranger station was closed and wouldn't open till the next morning when I would (certainly) already be gone, so I wasn’t able to pay. But that next morning I paid for it in another way, the entire world was encased in fog...

Yes, it seemed all of Ontario was enveloped in the thickest fog I have ever seen. I could barely see more than 30 feet in front of me and I sure hoped the cars behind me could see me. The fog stayed around most of the day, slowly lifting as I neared the St. Clair river which separates the United States from its rowdy neighbor, Canada. I took the blue water ferry, so named for the blue waters, across to Marine City, Michigan. For this I paid $1.00. After 17 hours of the border dude puzzling over my nomad and feeling certain that I was somehow smuggling many guns and alcohol into America, I was granted entry into the country who issued my passport. Thanks.

And only 2 miles from there I had a warmshower welcome, and yet another truly amazing experience. I have met so many awesome people, not just with warmshowers, but everywhere I stop. I'm pleasantly surprised each and every time. So, it seemed what I thought would take me a week, took me 2 ½ days. Maybe since my bike was built in America it isn't used to kilometers and I was able to cover more ground quickly. Either way, here I am back in the good old US of A. I am now cycling westward across the state of Michigan towards its western coast, the Lake Michigan shoreline, which every Michiganer has raved about. I'll let you know. For now, I have been on the road for two weeks, and have nearly cycled 1,000 miles already. Insane. Also, check out Fietspad, they put up one of my blog entries.

Keep pedaling.

Made it here...

2011-05-12T07:42:00.000-07:00

As the song goes, if I can bike it here, I can bike to anywhere, so heres to you, New, York...New York... Anywho, I cycled for one week from Burlington, Vermont to Niagara Falls, NY and crossed into Canada on my one week anniversary. It was about 480 miles, and I biked 6 out of the 7 days. I have been spoiled thus far with the amazing hospitality of everyone, from couchsurfing, warmshowers, friends of family, to strangers. People are constantly amazed at what I at least claim I am doing, cycling around the country. Some say they wished they could too, others simply say good luck. Either way, I feel like everyone is one my side which can't be bad.

Speaking of bad, the weather this past week has been topsy turvey. Rain the first two days, three days of wind, and then warm and sun the rest. I even managed to get sunburned. The rolling landscape has been a good start to get my legs in shape, and I can already feel them being better at pulling the loaded bike uphills then when I started.

My route followed both the Erie Canal and New York State Bicycle Route #5. Most parts of the Erie Canal path are unpaved, so I stayed on the road nearly the whole time. Which was fine, usually. The roads had shoulders and traffic wasn't too bad past Utica. Of course, the shoulders are also where the dirt and debris is so I have already accumulated a drive side nomad flat and two rear tired flats. And I'm riding ultra gatorskins! That's how bad these roads are sometimes.

Chocolate covered frozen banana

Getting to Niagara, and seeing one of the wonders of the world, reminded me of a lot of the reason why I am biking. Its to see the wonders of the world, located in North America at least. And this was no exception. I even did the Maid of the Mist tour, knowing that it was now or never. And it was worth it. The power of the falls is intense, and it was nice to get wet too. You only get to really feel the falls from the boat.

As I have biked this week I wane and wax with nostalgia for Burlington, my friends and family, familiarity too. But then I remember I can call anyone anytime, which is really nice. I can email sometimes, and write letters though those take a long time for me. Biking in North America has its perks, its great to have a long hard day biking but at the end get to hear a friendly voice.

Niagara falls

By the time I post this, I should be in the middle of biking along the northern shores of Lake Erie in Ontario, Canada head towards Michigan. My map gets me as far as Wolf Lake, MI and from there I will head to my first National Park, Sleeping Bear Dunes. I continually upload pictures to my picasa web albums, so here are the New York photos. Feel free to share or whatever :Ross Bike Pics

Well, for now, that’s it. I have repacked a few times and am slowly getting a better system down, but I have too many places to put stuff so many things are always scattered.

Keep Pedaling!

Low Bridge, Everybody down

2011-05-06T07:22:00.000-07:00

And so Binglers and Binglets, here I am. Day 3 of Day 365 on my one year, North America circumvention Bicycle Tour and Discovery Adventure, or NACBTADA for short. My NACBTADA started from the hamlet of Burlington, whence I lived for about a year and a half. So let me keep it real and give some love to my hood. The sunsets in Burlington very likely can't be matched anywhere, nor can the vast multitudes of amazing people. Let me name a few using an Egyptian method of cataloging things:

Mark (my senile elderly housemate). Mark is a person who will sing in the highest falsetto no matter who is in the room, or what room he is in. He keeps aflame his childlike qualities, perhaps better than an actual child. His skill set is unique, and ultimately, he is a great friend.
Christine (greasy hand girl I rode bikes with). I have met few people as independently strong as Christine, and for her young age, as smart as she is. Yes, she rides a bike embarrassingly too small for her, but that doesn’t matter. Her kindness when it counts makes up for it.
Bear (aka Trixie aka God and Lord of the 1488 Manor). I love her like no tomorrow.
Joe (Joe). The best and worse thing about Joe is Joe. But that’s whats so great about Joe. And also not so great. Either way, he's a loveable teddy bear who'd flirt with your mother but make you laugh till you cried while he did it.
Melissa. To keep this blog short, all I need to say about Melissa is that I have never known, currently don't know, nor will I ever know any person with a heart larger than Melissa. Her unbounded compassion and love is something that will always be a light in my life. Thank you.

Naturally, Burlington has its cast of characters that also make the city fun and strange, but I’m biking and not there so lets move on shall we. But also, while not from Burlington, my family deserves much thanks. While I don't always understand the things they do, as I lead my normal sane life they have never once not supported me in my endeavors, and there isn’t more I could ask for.

I have so far only bike 210 miles. I am now along the Mohawk river (where the Erie canal is) and will follow it to its beginnings at Lake Erie. I have stayed with couchsurfing hosts in Glens Falls, warmshowers hosts in Spanker (which nobody has ever heard of) and Utica, Syracuse and don't know from there.

Three days, two days of rain and wind and one sunny windy day and my legs aren't yet in touring shape. I'll need a few more weeks, and god damn did I pack a lot of heavy things. Hopefully the forecast forecast sun and warmth. I haven’t worn a t-shirt yet!! and I packed 3!!!! I am already making a small list of things to get rid of. First is the stupid u lock I brought. Next, maybe the sleeping bag. Anyway, no crazy stories or adventures yet, just tough cycling to get this whole thing going. So for now, keep pedaling. Oh, and check out Melissa's blog where she writes all about me: http://9adventures.wordpress.com/

Delayed Reaction

2011-05-01T12:41:00.000-07:00

I usually react to bigger life events a few days, weeks, or perhaps years after the fact. After college, I went to live in London. The fact that I was moving to London didn't become real until I sat in the airport, not a moment before. When I left everything behind to join the Peace Corps, it didn't hit me until I meet my new Cape Verdean family for the first time. That night I came to the realization that I was living in Cape Verde for the next two years. And so, as I pack, box t-shirts I shan't see again, and say goodbye to friends, animals, and city views that I might not see for a long time again, it still doesn't register that I’m not just going on a noodle bike ride. Nor am I flying to a country to bike tour for a specific time period. Nor am I going a bike tour and returning to my current life. Like others who have absconded to the lure and magic of bike touring for life, I will leave one life behind, and hope to find another in the wind, the small streams I bike by, the looming mountains, the rainy days, the long straight roads that don't end, the ups, the downs, the feeling of life pumping through my constantly churning legs. So I imagine that this realization really wont happen for a few weeks, somewhere near Michigan.

I am excited. I am nervous. I am sad to leave friends I have made and others I have continued. I'm sad to have had struggled through a hardcore Vermont winter and not reap the beautiful summer rewards. Oh well. That's life.

For four months, I'll be biking solo through the north west part of the US, searching out the amazing landscape that has been slowly shaping this land. I'll pass through some towns, maybe some cities. I'll see other bikers, maybe ride with some, or leave some behind. I'll camp, I'll stay with people. I will be at the mercy of the planet, the people, the animals, my own body. I have never, nor will I ever, discover anything that is as magical, inspiring, teaching as the bicycle. And when I meet with Chris in Portland, Oregon, not only with the education continue, but I'll have a companion to learn with and from, and to share, making a new adventure.

The openness of the adventure, of life, of the road all beckons. And I can't wait.

The first week will take me through New York State, at times following the Erie Canal through Amsterdam, Utica, Syracuse, Rochester into Niagara, NY. From there, its across the Rainbow bridge into Canada where I will hug the northern shores of Lake Erie towards Michigan. Not sure how long that will take, probably about another week, so I should hit the US again in mid May. In Michigan I hope to start my National Park tour by visiting Sleeping Bear Dune National Lakeshore on my way towards the northern peninsula. Of course, I'll be trying my dangdest to write as much as I can, but a little foreshadowing at this stage is ok.

For now, maybe one more ride in Vermont, a vegan bar b q, and then a wave goodbye. My first day out will have me leave Vermont, amongst other things, behind. The picture at the start of this entry is my bike with a draft version of my packing, with the trailer and panniers all on there. I already know that I have packed poorly and too much, and realize that the first week will be lugging too much stuff and then I will spend a few days trying to convince myself that even though I think I packed the bare necessities, I didn’t and that I will have to dump some stuff. But all in good time. Once I hit a big mountain, I'll reconsider.

Rough Ideas lead to smooth biking...

2011-04-26T19:05:00.000-07:00

Here's a rough idea of my next 10,000 miles:

View Very rough idea of my biking in a larger map

Also, my good friend and soon (in 4 months) traveling partner, Chris " Hop a Long" Childers is also writing a blog, except his is better written and spelled correclty. Check it out: http://reallylongbiketrip.blogspot.com/

One week to go. I will start pedaling south out of Burlington on Tuesday, May 3rd, 2011 not knowing whence I'll stop, I'm excited with a little nervous on top for good measure. It's also raining a lot. Which, as the old adage says, is good luck. I'll post a picture of my steel stead soon. I am planning out my first week-ish on the road, arranging places to stay before I break the ice and start camping. So far I have it as far as Syracuse and I'll be warmshower-ing and couchsurfing and staying with family that isn't mine.

It's all adding up already to be amazing.

Arigato

2011-04-08T12:36:00.001-07:00

The Advantage is Mine

2011-04-08T07:39:00.000-07:00

The days are slowly rolling by towards the start of May, aka, Start of my super amazing awesome Bike life/journey. And my bike is all built and set. I shall saddle a Bianchi Advantage, my steel steed will be my pillar on the road, my companion, my singing partner. And speaking of that, here is the first place that I will make it my point to get mail if anyone wants to send me mail:

The Ashland Post Office in Wisconsin:
615 Main Street West
Ashland, WI 54806-1300
(715) 682-4848

To send something general delivery, you need to address it as follows:
Ross Guberman
General Delivery
Ashland, WI 54806-9999

I will update when I think I will arrive in Ashland, most likely in June so you can know when to send, and to indicate what date to hole the letter until. We'll see if it works. Don't send me any gold medallions just yet. So with the bike done, my panniers all set, the trailer awaiting, all I am doing now is slowly getting some little things i need and getting rid of many things i do not. i sold one bike, donated the other. I will give a presentation next week about my time in Japan, sorta to pump myself up too for the long days ahead on the road.

For now, as the old adage says, thats all folks

Sniff...Ahhh

2011-03-19T07:35:00.000-07:00

Thats right, spring is in the air and a fresh new design is up and running for Bingle by Bingle. It's easy to read, and has a more homey look that reflects better the writings that will be showing up here over the next months.

Speaking of months, if you have friends or family living anywhere in:

Michigan
Wisconsin
Minnesota
North Dakota
South Dakota
Wyoming
Idaho
Montana

let me know and I will ever so graciously visit them for you and sleep on their couch and eat their food. Anywho, things are rolling on pre-trip planning. I am in the mid stages of building a touring bike. I am using a steel Binachi frame, cherry red. so far, I have a nice bottom bracket, touring crank set and 8 speed freewheel. I also got my quill stem and flat bars. I'll be putting bar ends, linear pull brakes (front only) and either trigger shifters or down tube friction shifters, not sure, yet. I'll be rocking 700c x 25 tires, not normal touring width but i love riding on these tires. I have orders rear panniers that will supplment my burley nomad trailer so that i can dump the trailer if i am staying in one place for a few days. besides that, figuring out the proper tools needed, getting some route figured out for the first 1,000 miles, and trying to not bust my gut over the fact that i'm finally doing this.

Yesterday it was 60, this morning it was snowing. Now it's sunny and getting warm again. Crazy. Anywho, send me a shout about places you know about that need to be seen and explored or other suggestions about where to bike. I'm wide open.

Big Sky Country

2011-03-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

Like the great open spaces that I hope to visit, my plans, ideas, thoughts, etc are wide open. Except for one thing. I'm going biking. But not just biking. For years and years I have dreamed of experiencing the North American landscape, of learning about the people, nature, communities that are scattered among the mountains, prairies, valleys, badlands, goodlands, tetons, cliffs, hidden rivers and soft spots covered in pine.

More or less on May 1st, I will embark on a new life chapter. Some call it wunderlust, some call it adventure. Thats all correct, but it's also more. It's an expression for my love of biking, of desires to learn more about limitations, to learn, to write, to fall in love with the varied beauty that surrounds us but often we fail to see. Amongsts the city streets, shops, and banners life seems displaced. There is more, so much more. More that is real, immediate, daring, heartbreaking, heartfilling. It's all within, but the world outside can help bring it to boil.

So my little bingler's, once again we'll have changes here. We'll keep on bingle by bingle, cause thats how its goes, but i'll be documenting more my life travels among the land here. So I hope whoever you are that is reading this, you'll join me.

Where in the world?

2011-02-21T06:56:00.000-08:00

The world being north america that is. This is a sample of the places to go, the routes to take. Roads abound, trails exceed count, the marvels of the land are limitless, only the warm sunny days have a season. Stay tuned for a sneak peek at a draft version of a possible trip that supposedly might happen, but as the best laid plans of mice and men, who really ever knows.

Choosen Choices

2011-02-06T08:37:00.000-08:00

I'm eating something right now that was constructed of refined sugars, refined grain flours, corn, and other stuff. I'm eating it by choice. By choice, I, and so many, everyday, every single meal even, choice to consume food (and non-food) ingredients that are unnatural to our bodies and cause us harm short and long term. Taste good though. To not eat sugars, many would say you are giving up on something rather than making a choice to not consume the same way you made a choice to consume. If refined sugars, if grains, corns, were meant to be consumed by humans in such mind boggling quanities, why for millions of years did we not (and showed signs of good health) and only in the last breath of our time here, say 30,000 years, we have turned our millions year diets upside down and have many health problems but make artisinal breads and kick ass vegan cookies? It's said smoking is bad for you, because it kills you. Eating sugars and grains and corn has DIRECTLY led to the staggering health problems we face. Domesticating animals has led DIRECTLY to most if not all the diseases civilization has created. By Choice. We have killed millions and millions of people, by choice, for various reasons. but because we choose to. We do it to the planet, to animals, to each other, and ourselves. All by choice.

Sometimes though it seems our choices are choosen for us. We are easily manipulated to choose certain products, certain foods, certain lifestyles. We are pressured, cajoled, violently forced, tricked, conned, etc into making so many choices that aren't good for us or each other. Whose in control? Are you yours? Am I mine?

So I'm going to choose to keep eating what I am eating, and when I am done, I am going to choose to no longer eat it, or refined sugars, or refined flours, or anything else that flashes like neon in my mind's eyes (like vegan cookies). I will choose to not choose.

We can be amazing, shinning things if we choose to be. We can be our own masters, total and absolute, and divest our selves of the holds that hold us.

Let go.

Be free.

Old man in a rocking chair

2011-01-26T16:08:00.000-08:00

Sometime around midnight, most likely after, as that's the loneliest part of midnight, when its no longer, and you can make jokes that its today or tomorrow, it depends on who you are and how you see, that's when we may find each other, only it'll be me finding you like the hat i once lost and i came back to the same park bench a while later and it was lying in a puddle underneath, it seemed to not care regardless, but i picked it up and took it back home because it was my hat, even though i never wore it after that, that's how i find you, again and again, me looking for you and you seeing me and not, and so sometime after midnight strikes, behind some building, my eyes already starting to fill with tears, i can turn the corner and see you standing there, hair down, hair down, and maybe i'll look up just in time to see the great migration of the night clouds brushing gently on the lunar landscape, when on a beam my gaze returns to your earthly realm, you're not there. i go on, i go on with a slight break in my heart, knowing the winds have blown and the circus has left town, only their sign bills remain and will for months on end, fading and torn, but reminders nonetheless.

Making a splash

2011-01-23T08:17:00.000-08:00

Sit a while, dear son;
Here are biscuits to eat, and here is milk to drink;
But as soon as you sleep, and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I kiss you with a good-bye kiss, and open the gate for your egress hence.

Long enough have you dream’d contemptible dreams;
Now I wash the gum from your eyes;
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light, and of every moment of your life.

Long have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore;
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.

It is so easy to let your life be lead by others. It's so very easy. There is so much comfort in it, it's warm and reassuring. And you can do it endlessly and no one will yell at you, no know will say stop, no one will question you because they are probably doing the very same thing. How easy to let others decide what is right, what is wrong, moral and ethically, what is accepted behavior, what should be valued, what should be despised and avoided. How easy it is to think you need something that only yesterday you never had, how easy to sit back and let others live your life, or to let others lives be ended for yours.

I dont want to be alive, I am alive. I want to free myself from self imposed and forced slavery from ideas, limitations, expectations, controls, rights and wrongs, thoughts of the future, thoughts of what if's. Long enough have I lived a contemptible life, I will wash the gum from my eyes and venture forth. No rules. No plans. No future. Only today. Only now.

My First Day at Work

2011-01-12T09:31:00.000-08:00

Entering upon these warmer days, the air of discontent and wrongdoing has reached the point of thickness once thought unreachable. We have seen our peace and past systematically taken apart piece by piece only to be rebuilt into a concrete jungle gym of lies, evil pursuit, and corporate crimes against nature. Our aggressors have names to which we can hold responsible. But when can this climate of aggression be turned against those who are the aggressor? Not until the small have the power and strength of the weak masses. We must think of them in two ways, as our allies and as our enemies. Ignorance is ignorance, whether by false personal betrayal to the self or by way of simple misunderstanding of our surrounding environment. Both are unacceptable and should be the focus first of our attack before we can hope to consume the fires by which the aggressors feed.

The dark lady walks across my hand and fills my eyes with the discontent of a moon still oceanscape. I’ll breathe her into me; infuse her hair with my lungs. Entangled, we travel through braided wind and walk about the soft earth, the lives of a thousand trees lifelessly scattered about as we tread upon her. Far off we hear the cries of the past creeping alongside the torn groves of our dissent, and their screams claw new tracks for which our blood may flow.

But again, the sunsets and our time as one must end. She departs as smoke and through the last remaining rays I can see her, like a filter catching dust, she disperses into emptiness and leaves her void in the wake. Lumbering about, with dusk in hand I continue to toil into the midnight’s breast where I sleep in his spotted bosom. Dawn flirts with fire and sets the stage for the players to once again take position. On cue, the music starts and life act 1 begins.

These words like others cannot mask our failure to turn the tide of corporate power. The free speech they invoke tramples upon our heads and forces us to see with blinders on. To break from the path and see a new spectrum of light must take an awakening, a struggle of epic proportions.

So we remain faithful to these lies of webbed deceit and we all believe, yes we all believe, that our words can strike a different beat and snare the lines they pull and tug we push and grunt for firmer grip. Oh, oh how the rain transforms our dirty view into a sea of bloody faces swept aside by the river mud—a flash, a flash—are they drowning or are we sinking while they swim ahead?

Ahead, our neon idols strip and dance erotica which we cannot look away from. They are our muses, our new art culture and squeeze into the tiniest crevices. Our glass world reflects the soft buzz of life and shines their loving warmth across all lands. But in the mind like an umbrella we can shield ourselves from the storm and past the hypnotizing sexuality of our new gods, into an unbranded desert primed for the first coat of life.

Winter Riding - Latest from Fietspad

2011-01-06T08:10:00.001-08:00

Tights? Check. Two pairs of socks? Check. Ridiculous amounts of clothing on? Check. And so, your ready to head out on the snowy streets in below freezing temperatures for what was once a peaceful, warm bicycle ride. Now, your winter riding.

In the New England area, we have a thing called winter. It lasts a while, and it gets pretty cold. And snowy, often both. For many, this means that there is a “season” to riding as bicycle. Probably sometime from May until October. But what about the rest of the months? Where do you store your love of riding during those months? Well, for the few, its on the saddle where it belongs. It’s called winter riding.
Those who consider themselves knowledgeable of the finer details that make winter riding what it is, can and do have varied opinions regarding gear, tires, clothing, etc. Of course, these same people have these same varying opinions about biking no matter what part of the year, so really, it best to just ignore them all together.
As there are such fewer bikers on the road in the winter, it lends itself well to each biker creating their own style, their own preferences of how to best proceed in the winter landscape. There are really two main areas of concern for the winter biker. The road and the fear of freezing to death. Let us examine the road.

Normally, the road is dry (or wet) and hands out traction like it was kittens at a shelter. Even if it rains, the tires you have are most likely already prepared to handle it. But, dear reader, the winter road is paved not in sugar snaps and childhood dreams, but in slush, black ice, snow drifts, disgusting dirty snow, hidden bike lanes, salt and dirt. That once peaceful bike lane has become a mousetrap of hell for you. The bike lane is gone. The slippery slush makes your back tire spin out of control, sliding left and right as your grip becomes ever tighter hoping to regain what little control you had. Your turns mimics of turtles not knowing if that shiny patch is ice. Your bike is covered in what one could only describe as modern post colonial Dada-esq neo art. That hill you normally shift up to conquer like the hero you are, nope. Derailleur is frozen. Downhills become cathedrals full of prayers that your brakes will work, oh please oh please…
Whew! You made it to the coffee shop. You locked up your bike on top of three feet of piled snow, and walk inside. Oh..my..god..its 1,000,000 degrees inside!! This leads us to the second concern of the intrepid winter biker: Clothing.

Before embarking on your trip, you are warm but have devils dances in your head of the cold awaiting. Some wear “performance” clothing, crafty creating layers according to instructions. Others, have three long sleeves shirt that when worn all at once mimics what they mean by the word warmth. Regardless, once outside, for several minutes, the bone chilling cold and winds reduce your temperature to a laugh of what it once was. Ahh, but that varied terrain is much harder to bike in, and your blood starts squirming, your head starts a rolling and before you know it, you are warm. Pretty much. Your exposed face is nearing frostbite, you realize that your plumber’s crack is getting tickled by the cold, but more or less, you did it! You are braving the cold! Warm and confident, you pull along side the coffeehouse, silently mocking all those poor bastards not riding their bikes,. Leaving the best parking spaces available for you. So you walk in, prepared for applause and tinker tape, when the heating system set at nuclear levels, hits your layers, sweating, bike hot body. In a tizzy, you dance your self out of layer upon layer of clothing that at one moment was all that was between you and instant death, and now mocks you by threatening to boil you alive.

Coffee. Its so good. A mug, a friend, some comics and maybe a game of Othello and its time to part. Ahh crap, all your cloths are a bit wet form the snow and ice that froze to them during your ride only to defrost during your enjoyable coffee. Oh well, you re-don your chilly damp gear, smiling nonetheless, as you know that you are a winter biker.

A Hokkaido Bike Ride: Part Three

2010-12-25T07:33:00.000-08:00

It was with a final dash of 100 miles that I rolled, with the setting sun casting glows upon the Universal Studios in the distance, into my final port of call: Osaka. I had been biking for two months, covering 3,000 miles, crisscrossing three out of the four main Japanese islands.

I went from coast to coast, inland over mountains, along streams and rivers, around lakes, and up and over the Alps. And so, my first thought when I stopped in the water side park that I would camp in that night in Osaka was, “ Thanks god I don’t have to pack up my tent one more time”. The routine, the rout aspects of touring, and I suppose of any long endeavor, were wearing me a little thin. Striking the tent each morning only to pitch it later that night, over and over again. Taking everything off my bike only to reload it the next morning. These daily occurrences, while part of the overall touring experience, had lost their excitement after doing it for two months.

What hadn’t lost its charm however, was pedaling for hours upon hours upon hours each day. From before even coming to Japan, I had been biking for nearly a month in parts of Europe and Ireland. I had been sitting on a saddle, churning my legs, finding the hand position that kept my pinky fingers from going numb, non-stop. And it never once wore thin. Sitting at this computer, there are daily things I do that aren’t exciting, but are part and parcel of my life. What keeps me going, what keeps those routines from taking over and dulling me, is that each and every day I get on my bike. It might not be for many miles, but not a day goes by that I don’t crank it out a little.

Every time I hit the jagged coastlines of Japan, I was overwhelmed by their beauty, by their cutting grace. Every river I pedaled alongside gurgled and flowed within me. Every mountain pass I struggled to overtake, every downhill that I swore I was going to crash, pulsed through my veins. Every cookie cutter clogged city I sped to get through, every small fishing village I slowed to enjoy were roadside attractions enticing my along my way.

Throughout my time in Japan, I was being spoken to by more than one language I didn’t understand. Each pedal stroke though helped me decipher what was being said, and as I appreciated each day and each offering that was given, I slowly became more fluent (my Japanese remained shitty). Getting bummed early on in Hokkaido, getting soaked and distressed in Kamikochi, being nearly blown off the map by a typhoon; were all just not-so-gentle conversations. They, along with all that I saw and experienced, were really saying the same thing over and over: Smile.

So I smile. I get on my bike and I smile because I love to bike. I close my eyes and dream of Japan, and I smile. I plan future bike tours, and I smile. I brush my teeth, cook my food, go to work and do all the other things needed to be done, and I smile. I see others on bikes and I smile. Its hard work to be grumpy on a bike, and for that I smile too.

The final part of my three part series of my Japan bike ride featured on Fietspad

Stupid school girls believe in civilization

2010-12-13T08:33:00.000-08:00

In times, as ruffled skirt floating in the shimmering pond, blank pages as days and avalanches of letters, the Divine Erato stares out, her stool of wood, her corner barren and void, she breathes the filtered air through the bare limbs and fallen leaves, her dance scatters carefully laid dust and debris, and havoc visits once again upon our eyes that she had once so gently laid to sleep, and if she were to fall from above, she floats as a feather, the Divine Erato is the setting and rising sun over the river bend, failing to see her there, fear not, the veil of dreams and impossible thought will lead your way...

Why I keep napkins by my bedside

2010-12-10T11:29:00.000-08:00

Do you ever dream and wake with the juice of a peach running down your chin, your fingers sticky sweet and fuzzy bits left on your lips? Do you ever close your eyes and let them sink down under their own luscious weight, to let kisses blanket them? Do you candidly eye someone's long hair as you twist your own locks and curls?

Do you dream asleep or while awake?
Do you dream?
Do you live?
What do you do?

The Mermont Tour

2010-11-25T19:35:00.000-08:00

In times of yore, the land of middle Vermont, known locally as Mermont, was a place of tepid weather, flowing waters and green vegetation. With these mystically images in mind, I set out in the dogs days of August to see if I could find for myself the magic of Mermont, known locally in Burlington as the belly button of Vermont, or as the locals like to say, Mermont, hells bells thats where the city folk live except there ain't no city and the folk are really rabbits with large beaks and such stuff. Ah, Mermont.

It started out with the idea of a lazy 3 to 4 day bike trip. Naturally, that didn't happen. My first day lead my south through the idyllic rolling hills from Burlington, the metropolis of Vermont, to Middlebury where i stopped for my first break to stretch my legs and take full use of my food stamps at the co-op. With a full stomach I pedaled forth towards the nether regions of Rutland, a place many fear and many don't fear. Either way, it was hotter than a boiling cup of water so I biked along the roaring route 4 as I mentally prepare for my summit of Killington Mountain. Few have dared, less have succeeded and even more have driven it without a thought, and even more have skied it, and maybe a few less have hiked it and then somewhere in between that some never heard of it and then ONE bike it (that's me). With the full force of the sun beating on me, I scaled, summited and conquered the largest mountain east of Rutland along route 4. I freewheeled it into Woodstock to camp behind the firehouse in a bed of pine needles. I love pine needles.

The enxt day which was supposed to not be my last day turned out to be my last day. I hit White River Junction and just as quickly left it to get to the Connecticut river. Don't let the name fool you, it's actually a lake. Anywho, I meandered along the banks for many enjoyable miles considerign follwing the gentle lake into Canada when I remembered that I almost froze to death last time I went to Canada, so instead I cut due west into the hip town of Barre where I sat on some concrete. It was early and Burlington was a scant 60 miles away so I said, ehhh, and with 50 lbs of weight in my trailer chugged off a second day of 120 miles.

Some call me a god. Some call me other things. I like the god one.

More news from the middle of the Atlantic

2010-10-25T07:51:00.000-07:00

Some of you, and by that i mean none, might remember one of my neighbors in Cachaco, Arlinda. She is a cooker, baker, alcohol maker extrodinarre, and thankfully has the luck of having not only I, but another amazing Peace Corps volunteer living next door. Below is the project the PCV is working on to make her place more official and welcoming to tourist and locals alike. I can honestly say that while this project is focusing on one lady, the benefits will be felt by many. She has and will need help, and that means she will have other women or girls helping her, which means they will make some money, have a small job and maybe be able to partner or go off on their own. Studies show that helping women helps everybody.

Cafe Business Startup

The summary below was provided by the Peace Corps Volunteer and the community administering this project.

Map of CAPE VERDE

The objective of this project is to provide the means necessary to enable a single local woman, to create and run a small home-style restaurant and catering business. In doing so, the ultimate goal is to create a much-needed source of sustainable monthly income for this woman and her three children. The village is a remote and impoverished rural community of about 400 people on an island of Cape Verde. The village is located at the entrance to a national park – “Parque Natural de Monte Gordo” (PNMG). It is the islands primary tourist attraction. Such opportunities are scarce in these small rural towns, where unemployment can run from 40-50% and the vast majority of the island population depends on subsistence agriculture and or foreign remittances from family members living and working abroad. Overcoming this challenge through creating sustainable opportunities, locally, is one of the primary goals of the government and people of Cape Verde.

More specifically, the goal is to increase the monthly personal income of the project beneficiaries by 75% after the first three months of business operation. In order to do this, the business will need to turn a minimum monthly operating profit of 11.250$00 CVE (approx. $137 USD) per month. Of this amount, a minimum of 25% (2.813$00 CVE/ $34 USD- approx./rounded) will be designated to be set aside into a personal savings account. The remaining money will be available for household/family expenses and or for reinvestment into the business. As a community leader and President of the local women’s association, she will serve as a powerful example for empowering other women to pursue similar entrepreneurial endeavors. The required resources will be obtained through a combination of the donated funds received, local funds and locally donated material and labor: • Construction of a bathroom with functioning toilet and sink (restaurant) • Structural improvements made to the outside patio “dining area” (restaurant) • Miscellaneous business supplies and marketing costs such as printing business cards and other relevant promotional materials targeted towards the tourist market

If you have questions about this or other projects, email our office

Go directly to the peace corps website to donate to this project: https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=655-024

Proudly Presenting...

2010-10-20T20:10:00.001-07:00

What is the Totality?

2010-10-06T17:34:00.000-07:00

It is the high residues of hazardous and potentially lethal chemicals inside your fat cells. It is you sitting inside and turning on the television or computer on a beautiful day. It is you shopping when you are depressed. It is the feeling you get that something is missing. It is your worries that a fire may destroy all of your possessions and your plans to try and take them with you. It is the thought that tells you to go on a diet. It is the excess fat on your body. It is the headache that won’t go away. It is the bleeding in your intestines from years of pain alleviating drug use. It is the birth defects of your children. It is your killer when you die from a car accident. It is your savior when it attempts to fill your void for you. It is your carpal tunnel syndrome. It is your tumor. It is your expensive coffin and burial clothing. It is the drugs you take when you need an escape. It is the bulldozer that destroyed the woods you might have known so well. It is the towering skyscraper that makes you feel forever tiny and powerless. It is your boss. It is minimum wage, it is maximum wage.

It is your prison, sometimes with bars, sometimes without. It is all your fears. It is what is keeping you up at night. It is the lock on your door. It is the bullet in your gun. It is your noose and your tie. It is that thing that you don’t want to do, but you feel that you have to. It is the turned cheek. It is the cold shoulder. It is the ad that tells you the internet will provide affection for you. It is the new appliance that you never knew existed, but you can’t live without. It is poverty. It is inequality. It is the sink or swim economy. It is the thing that has categorized you. It has stopped you from doing the things you want. It is what makes you jealous. It is your hate. It is your love. It is your purgatives that you feel might be somewhat strange. It is your clenched fist. It is your mace spray.

It is the police. It is the nightstick. It is the protestor and the media which tells you not to listen to them. It is the corporation which creates a new truth for you daily, one which provides you with the knowledge to buy what they make with confidence. It is the gold star you earned in kindergarten. It is the A you got in high school. It is your college degree. It is your paycheck. It is your therapist. It is your bill from the medicine you bought to ‘fix your brain’. It is the ache in your back. It is your swollen knees. It is your worsening eyesight from the incandescent glow of our institutions. It is your hearing loss. It is the ‘white noise’ that drives you crazy. It is your adrenaline. It is the tears that pour down your face after a sad movie. It is your longing for a dramatic romance with a happy ending. It is your lust for sex. It is the objectified woman, and the powerless man. It is the rapist. It is the murderer. It is the thief. It is the profiteer. It is the worker. It is the dead union organizer.

It is the solider that is willing to kill and die for cheaper oil. It is the victims of a government enflamed over unwillingness to follow their way of life. It is the activist hung for saying they don’t want to be killed for profits. It is the rubber bullet. It is pepper spray.

It is the extinct species. It is the dying world. It is polluted air. It is tainted water. It is the accident at the nuclear power plant. It is the oil spill. It is the break in the pipeline. It is the brakes that failed. It is the dwindling biodiversity. It is the patented seed. It is the farmer killing her/himself with the pesticides that were going to make life better. It is the seat belt that mangled you, but didn’t kill you entirely. It is the blood dripping from the cut you got at work, but can’t afford to let it heal. It is the concrete beneath your feet. It is the stairs you fall down. It is the train that went off the tracks. It is the plane that blew up. It is the boat that sank. It is the drink you take to just forget it all. It is your misery. It is your world.

It is everything to you. It is civilized existence and the mindset which maintains it.

It is what makes devastation seem not so shocking. It takes you through the day. It dulls you out at night. It gives you nightmares, it gives you dreams. It is your feeling of not having of not having accomplished enough. It is your desire to have a child to complete yourself. It is the physical and mental barriers of civilized life. It is civilization and it has become you. It is a mindset. It is power. It is physically reinforced to block off the reality of it’s powerlessness by mediating human existence from the natural world. It is the feeling of superiority, which supplies the reason to destroy all else. It is unnatural. It will fall, but will you fall with it? It is personal and it is individual. It is defeatable and it’s defeat is needed for our liberation, as well as for that of all else that human kind has set out to conquer and overpower. Freedom is only a thought away. Liberate the mind and the body will follow.

We forget...

2010-09-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

We’re all pretty much the same.
Packed tightly in our skintight skin is a bumpy clump of slippery organs and brittle bones. Yes, you’re a pile of bones, I’m a bucket of blood, you’re a slab of muscle, I’m a chunk of chub. And no matter what we got squeezing through our veins, zooming through our brains, and dripping out our drains, one big thing just always remains.
We’re all pretty much the same.
We’re all pretty much the same.
We’re all pretty much the same.
Baby brains buzz and little eardrums pop, baby lungs breathe deep and little eyelids flop, but as we grow up and grow older maybe we start letting differences be our guide, start choosing our own adventures, start carving paths and curving wide. We settle into ourselves, settle into our skin, settle into our lives, and find the comforts within…
We grow up, we grow older, some grow hotter, some grow colder. We focus on our tastes, on our preferences and our choices, we find our kinds of friends, we read our kinds of voices. We might cut deep paths, we may turn others away, we may deepen our divides, we may have nothing nice to say.
But way down deep in our stomachs, way down deep in our hearts, we can always remember that no matter which way we turn, which lessons we learn, which bridges we burn…
We’re all pretty much the same.
We’re all pretty much the same.
No matter what money we earn, what chances we churn, what choices we spurn…
We’re all pretty much the same.
We’re all pretty much the same.
Because we’ve all got cracks and chips, we’ve all got sores and scratches, we’ve all got doubts and dreams, we’ve all got hearts with patches. We laugh and cry, we soar and sink, we go up and down, we stop and think. Behind your favorite things, behind your bestest friends, behind your fears and doubts… we’re all waiting here again.
We’re all in this big show together.
We’re all singing the same song.
We’re all walking into the future.
As we all keep hanging on.
AWESOME!

http://1000awesomethings.com/

Hot off the Presses

2010-09-01T05:57:00.001-07:00

Check out this amazing video of the Sao Nicolau Bike Race:

Race de Independência 2010 - São Nicolau, Cape Verde from Chase DuBois on Vimeo.

Trumped

2010-08-27T18:17:00.000-07:00

It's not often, and in fact, you have to get up so early that you never even went to sleep, but it has happened. I have been bested. And i couldn't be happier. On a small volcanic island, 500 miles off the mainland of the African continent, a bike race was held. 26km, over mountains, through valleys, blind turns, searing sun, chickens, and fierce competition all were in order for the second annual Sao Nicolau Island Bike Race. This year, the race reversed the course, starting in Tarrafal meaning a beginning few kilometers of straight climbing. The racers, while already equipped with helmets from last years race, were decked out from head to toe in amazingly flashy cycling apparel graciously donated by cycling teams from Seattle. With a band, prizes actually handed out the day of the race, and a first place prize of a brand new Trek road bike donated by a wonderful Minnesotian, this race showed that once you light a spark, amazing things can happen. Thanks to the great Peace Corps Volunteers who made this happen, Chase and Brendan, along with Floriano (Flor, aka Chocks:), only great things will come.

Check it out: http://sonadei.com/catalog/CVBO.php

Tour da Daks

2010-08-14T15:39:00.000-07:00

It began auspiciously. The ferry boat captain, gauging the state of his vessel one moment, being pooped on by a bird the next. I knew right away this tour would be unlike any I had ever done before. Mostly this was because i was going into the Adirondacks where i had never been before, but besides the point that is. The ferry took off and dropped me off on the ragged coastline of New York, at Port Kent. And so i began at the foothills of the some of the most daunting mountains the world has ever seen, the slow and continuous climb into the belly of the beast, the Tour da Daks.

A quick 10 miles took me to Au sable forks, a quaint little town. It was also the last quaint little town i would hit for another 60 miles, little did i know. I left the main bicycle route to start immediately on a climb that many have called "insane", "death inducing" , and "really really hard". These all fit the bill. This was a straight, tough, sweaty climb. And it was followed more or less by 60 more miles of rolling, steep climbs where the idea of switchback roads hasn't come into popularity just yet. I also went on a water reduction plan as I had no idea when or where i would ever be able to fill my water tanks up again. Finally, after passing rainbow lake, clear lake, lake lake, and several lesser known lakes and ponds, i hit the upper part of Saranac lake and was blessed with a gas station/ice cream place/general store/campground/bait shop/church/pool hall/bottle redemption center/NASA training facility/lakeside rest stop. With my water bottles overflowing, i started checking out the going rate for a state park campground. however, seeing that I never attended the school of common sense and yet rather operate on a more complex system of irrationality and thick headness, i knew i would never pay to camp and so shoved off to the lower Saranac Lake and ultimately Lake Placid, a 100 miles after starting. I had it in my head to keep going all night, to finish the tour in blazing glory, of cycling the full 170 miles in a breath taking single day, returning home a hero, a celebrated discoverer back from the wilds.

instead i sneakfully pitched my tent behind the Center for the Arts and conked out at 9pm. The next day i woke fresh as a pickle at 5:30am and started off, only to stop at the coffee place in town that magically opens its doors at 5:55am. Sweet. With some coffee and a bowl of granola in me, i headed off what would be an amazing donwhill into the town of Keene, along some river that ran along the foot of the mountains. However, being at the bottom at Keene meant i had to go up and over a few more passes to get back to the coast of New York at Essex, at which point i hopped back on my trusted New York Bike Route #9 all the way back to Port Kent in time for the early afternoon ferry.

As the ferry approached the Burlington docks, i noticed a lack of tinker tape parade, of Town Officials and media awaiting my return. No worries, i do it all for you people. not for cheers and the fame, glory, riches. I do it for the trees, the rivers, the sweat, the hours of pedaling, the peaking of a hill climb and the momentary pause before gripping tight for the downhill, i do it because i love to do it.

Check out all the photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/nopluto/TourDaDaks#

2010-08-06T20:15:00.000-07:00

You can come to me in pieces, in fragments, in dust balls and miniature cartoons written on rice,

You can come to me in mathematical formality, in hidden torah messages, in spurts and starts and stutters,

You can come to me in daisy prints, in symmetrical beauty, in faded jeans and yellow tee,

You can come to me in tears, in bloody rage, in torpid depression and shallow ego,

You can come to me in letters, in signals sent on a breeze, in wisps of a falling feather,

You can come to me in hours, in long sunny days, in swimming through clear running water,

You can come to me in riddles and rhymes, you can come to me in backtrap contraptions and obtuse designs, you can come to me in hast, you can come to me doing handstands,

But come to me in ways unknown, in dune dancing rhythms, in speckles and spots of closed eyes,

But come to me in transgression, come to me with valor and chivalry, come to me in shinning armor, come to me in sunset scenes,

But come to me in midnight's caress, in crescent embrace, in swings and merry-go-rounds,

But come to me in along the shore, in skittering stones of breaking waves, in tip toeing fashion,

But come to me in character, come to me ready to dance, come to me ready to run, come to me ready to flee, come to me ready to fight, come to me ready to kill come to me ready to die, come to me ready, come to me ready to jump over fences, come to me ready to bolt, come to me ready to scream and laugh and shake and cry and fear and grin and come to me ready to do it again and again and again, but come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me…

Image by Catherine Dentino

We two...

2010-07-19T06:40:00.000-07:00

We two, how long we were fool'd,
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes,
We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return,
We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark,
We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks,
We are oaks, we grow in the openings side by side,
We browse, we are two among the wild herds spontaneous as any,
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together,
We are what locust blossoms are, we drop scent around lanes mornings
and evenings,
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals,
We are two predatory hawks, we soar above and look down,
We are two resplendent suns, we it is who balance ourselves orbic
and stellar, we are as two comets,
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring on prey,
We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,
We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling
over each other and interwetting each other,
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious,
impervious,
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and influence
of the globe,
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we
two,
We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy

- Image by Catherine Dentino

What's at Stake

2010-06-29T22:27:00.000-07:00

Everyday, every moment, we have the choice to take actions that foster or destroy, that build community or tear them apart, that conserve beauty or spread ugliness. Every moment of our lives we are faced with the choice to participate in killing this Planet and all that calls it home, or to stand up and fight against those that do.

“There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings ... Then a strange blight crept over the area and everything began to change ... There was a strange stillness ... The few birds seen anywhere were moribund; they trembled violently and could not fly. It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of scores of bird voices there was now no sound; only silence lay over the fields and woods and marsh.”

- Rachel Carson (1907-1964)

The Crucial Kingdom Tour

2010-06-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

It is not often that I can truly say that i have recently undertaken something of such epic proportions, of mind bending beauty, of humanity shifting consequences as I can today. Along with my first ever touring buddy, we ventured into the wilds of the wild Vermont. A place where many have been forgotten, a place of hidden spots that speak of days of yore, of prehistoric times. A few still staggering dinosaurs and land walking whales roam these parts. We toured the Northeast Kingdom.

Leaving from the hamlet of Burlington, we headed north to St. Albans where they announce your right to cross the street by blowing an air horn and scaring you into running for your life, hence crossing the street. Being that small town Vermont is small town Vermont, there isn't much more to say. From here, we followed the Missaquoia Valley rail trail by not following it to Enosburg where we got coffee and heard the tale of a bank being robbed over 4 times in 4 years. Nice. Finishing up the rail trail (over 26 miles) we got to Richmond. Richmond has a sunny side and then a not as nice sunny side. Stopping at the 2nd best bakery in town we were told of a farm where we could camp (never found it) and also told that we will be encountering a mountain climb as unbeknown to us, we had to circumvent Jay mountain, a huge skiing resort. We decided to tackle the impossible climb of impossibility. Nearly an hour and a half later we hit the pass, and freewheeled what may be one of the best downhills to grace this wonderful world. Nearly 10 minutes of eye tearing amazement as we bombed down the

side of this mountain to our resting place for the day, Paddie's Snack Shack in North Troy.

We camped next to the train tracks which anywhere else would never have produced a train, but for us did. A rumbling freight train. Twice. Early the next morning, awaking to fresh blue skies, twittering birds of all sounds and sizes, we packed camp and headed off for a day full of mountain lakes and true Kingdom beauty. We cruised by nearly 6 lakes of various sizes and shapes of blue, but all numbed us from their crucial beauty. As we wound out way around the Kingdom we decided to make a path towards Glover where the infamous Bread & Puppet farm/theater/museum/etc is located. After finding our way to their uphill aboded, we spent the late afternoon and evening in the farm and woods, and enjoyed a shared dinner and saw some blighty potatoes getting burned before calling it a night and hitting the hay in our wooded campsite. A wonderful night of uninterrupted sleep followed and we woke up warm and refreshed the next morning. Yay!!!

Day 3 saw us cover over 40 miles barely even pedaling as we cruised south from Glover, through the greentown of Hardwick and into the grand Capital of the republic, Montpelier. We spent sometime wandering the gold lined streets and slowly falling asleep. And so, after another 40 miles with a bewildering amount of stupid car traffic and some light drizzle we pulled back into Burlington with sugar coated visions of the Kingdom still dancing in our heads.

To see the full range of crucial photos, check i say check them out by clicking here