ninety three

THE HIGH DESERT 

Utah near St George. This is the end of the spring thaw so this creek is usually very low or dry. Water and jobs are limited so the population in this part of the country low. This was mid afternoon and hot, it is still the high desert and dry.

ninety two

GETTING INTO THE MOOD

Now and then I need a roof over my head, a bath, a bed, electric outlets, and a TV. I budget myself to thirty bucks per day or less, that includes motel rooms. This makes me ride by some tempting motels at the end of long days. 

I must be creative and find cheap if not free places to camp. I search for safe places to camp like backyards, church pavilions, pastures, baseball dugouts, cemeteries and even police station impound lots. Once I slept in a portable toilet during a rain storm for most of a night. If I find a little mom and pop place without a view by a grocery store, I'm in heaven. 

I get cleaned up, catch up on the news, charge my phone batteries and clean my clothes. Sometimes the motel has a laundry and if you ask nicely they may allow you to use the motel washing machine and dryer. I have one load of laundry so stopping along the way works too.

I once found an empty laundry and thought I could wash all of my clothes. In only my bathing suit and extreme farmer tan, I put the last shirt in the washer. Five minutes later there were four mini vans and fifty kids asking their moms about the half naked man, somethings never fail.

ninety one

THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

I had never felt so far from home and all I had was my bicycle and my legs are the only power to get me home. 

I realize my body is like an engine that runs on fuel. My normal bad eating habits don't work on the road, I must eat breakfast lunch and dinner. I find that suddenly my tank tells me it's empty and I must eat, NOW! 

I can't always cook or find a restaurant so I use powdered meal replacements. You must think in terms of all day and stay away from cheap energy like caffeine and sugar. 

Hydration is vital and can effect the next several days if not done right. Water is not enough so I use a product called Gu2O a hydration mix to avoid cramping. I mix two liters per day, mix it extra thick and take drinks with a water chaser. I swear by this stuff and use it on long hot weather rides in 100+ temps in Phoenix. 

Potassium is the key to day after day rides. I take a supplement to maintain energy levels and avoid muscle cramps. It is a long physical ordeal, but after a few weeks your body gets a rhythm. Soon the effects of this day after day marathon conditions your body and you become lean and mean. At 54, I am in the best shape of my life.

ninety

A VERY LONG DAY

I was racing the sun trying to make it to Blythe on the California, Arizona border before dark. I lost but the roads were empty so I finished the last ten miles in the dark. 

When you drive, Blythe is a place everyone stops because it's about half way between LA and Phoenix. I have been there many times before so in a way it felt a little like home. This time it was different because instead of an air-conditioned car I had traveled on a bicycle through the most remote stretches of California and actually enjoyed every inch.  

As I traveled through El Centro, California the Blue Angels were training. They practice a couple of months each year at the Air Force base. 

I knew nothing about it until one of the mavericks made a low level run across the road that felt like only yards above my head. The seat I was using was taking it's toll on my butt and the rumple stripped roads were an added pain, but my first long trip was much more then I expected.

eighty nine

CALIFORNIA COAST

Into the unknown, the coast north of San Francisco. I know very little about the Pacific northwest and don't have any ideas beyond Starbucks coffee shops and the home of grunge bands. The coast must be beautiful because everyone goes on about it. I know there are many climbs, rain, and other bikers. I've toured mostly in areas where I see no other touring cyclists, the few I have met are lone rangers like myself. 

There will be groups to share camp sites, meals, and conversation, but I'll probably pack up early and escape the next morning. It's obvious by now that I like people, but love my privacy more. I slightly know one person in Seattle in case of any serious problems and I might stop and say hello.

 I'm working on car rental deals, getting things squared away at work, mapping out a route, setting mileage goals, prepaying bills, and dreaming. I always get anxious and really worry about getting hurt or worse, in a way that is a good thing. 

My knees will have pinches and catches, my bike will feel broken, and everything will look impossible. I know from before the second day on the road, this will all soon fade away.

eighty eight

MY FIRST LONG STRETCH OF NOTHING .....I WAS HOOKED.

The Yuha desert in California, was a welcomed experience. My years of bicycle riding were proceeded by years of running, both were an endless series of circles.

You start and run or ride in one direction, then turn in another, then another, but eventually you return to where you began. The size of running circles became boring, then soon bike riding circles also lost their charm. My site name reflects my desire for larger circles. I have longed to continue on over the next hill and around the next corner. 

This combined with the influence of an old TV program "Bronson", and it's famous quote "where ever I end up I guess". When I was young and dumb I tried to live this out by hitch hiking around the eastern states,worrying my parents to death. Now that I'm older and dumb, I ride a bicycle all around the country, but still worry my parents. 

A day of riding in one direction until dark, then continuing the next day, then the next week, then into the next state, then the next, is not boring in my mind. The long endless stretches are very satisfying after all of the years of small circles.

eighty seven

EVER BEACH LOOKS FAMILIAR

One of the wide white sand beaches of California. I enjoyed the weekdays because the traffic was light and the beaches were empty. My need to keep a more detailed journal is obvious, I can't remember the name of this particular beach. I welcome comments from readers especially if you are familiar with any of the places I picture. My hope is that this site encourages conversation, anonymous is good.

eighty six

THE BEACH LIFESTYLE

This is an East coast beach, once again I'm not sure where. My visits to Ocean City Maryland when I was in Grade school and High school planted this love for the ocean in my heart. I think most people love the feel of the beach, that's probably why it is expensive and crowded. 

I remember clearly a man who sat in the sun all day renting beach chairs and umbrellas. He had the classic sun bleached hair, that was actually bleached by the sun. Tattoos were not common in those days  and he had the first sleeve I had ever seen. 

I remember he was always talking to women in bathing suits, which in my youth was very impressive. He was there year after year and seemed really happy in his work. I saw many of these men and women working in bike rental and surf shops on both coasts. 

Over looking the beach were expensive mansions and high rise resorts with the view side at least one hundred dollars more then the other side. 

People save their money, take their vacation, and pay big money to spend a couple of weeks trying to pass as a native. Then they return to their lives, save more time and money, to return in a year for another two weeks to act like a native. 

The guy at Ocean City was there year after year. He probably lived in a trailer behind a fish cannery, but he spent his days on that expensive beach and he was a native. He probably had no family, investments or retirement plan. I make no judgment on which is better, I'm just passing on the observation.

eighty five

STRANGE TRAVELERS (OTHER)

This is a fellow cyclist who was traveling from Tucson, Az to Sacramento, California. The picture doesn't show him clearly. He had an old mountain bike probably from K-Mart two owners ago. The trailer was tied on with rope, had mismatched wheels, and a tie dye cover. He had water bottles, sleep mat, and extra shoes tied to the sides. 

This guy was not a sport cyclist but in my mind he was as much a cyclist as anyone. He had a smile and a upbeat attitude about the hills he had climbed and was about to climb. I asked if he was moving there but he said he was just sight seeing. I suspect he also had a pound of weed packed away and by the looks of it he would run short before he reached Sacramento. 

If it has two wheels you are part of the culture in my opinion. Roadies are snobs coast to coast with few exceptions. I make a point of greeting every cyclist I meet along the way no matter how ill-equipped  or stoned.

eighty four

ON THE EDGE OF A DREAM

The ocean is a mystery to this lifelong land lover. My fondest memories are of vacations down the east coast with my family. We did take week long vacations to Lake Erie to fish for catfish and stay in a small cottage, and I do mean small. 

I played around fresh water creeks, rivers, ponds, and lakes, but they didn't move around like the ocean. The worst things were mosquitoes, snakes and leeches. The ocean however is filled with weird pointy and stingy stuff. I know the movie Jaws was only a movie, so sharks don't worry me. 

To the lifeguards I was the dumb Ohio kid who could get caught in a rip tide or have my face pounded into the sand while attempting to body surfing. Sand is always in your butt crack, and the water burns your eyes. On my bike I am now only a listener and watcher. I sit on the edge of this powerful force, strain my eyes to see over the horizon, ponder the movement of the tides, and listen to the endless hypnotic roar. 

I had seen the Pacific Ocean in movies and televised surfing competitions, I knew the names of the beaches years before I saw them. It had been twenty five years since I traveled the east coast; I was ready to see it again and perhaps for the first time. 

Traveling by bike takes you down every board walk, through residential areas, and sometimes on hard beaches. If I had another lifetime I would invest it in the sea, but for now I ride its edges and dream.

eighty three

THE DOOR STOP LANE

This is a windy California beach where the surfers use some type of kite. There is a full line of cars lining the highway. The only bike lane runs between the cars and heavy traffic. You ride so close to the park cars the possibility of a door swinging open is constant. That's why I call it the door stop lane. 

You need to constantly be aware of escape options.  Focusing on any hint of activity in the cars through the rear windows mile after mile does not offer a chance to relax and take in the view.

 One rather large lady opened the door to her SUV, stepped out, then her little dog on a leash jumped out another five feet. She didn't noticed me and never missed a word of her cell phone conversation. Luckily I had planned for things like this, so I swerved into and opening in traffic. I smiled at her and continued on disaster avoided.

I travel alone so the need for safety is vital, if I want to take a long look at the scenery I stop.

eighty two

SEAL BEACH

As a midwestern boy, I spent many a day of my youth skinny dipping in local secluded ponds and lakes. I had heard of the many nude beaches of California. They are most likely better in our minds then in reality. We may dream of beaches full of hot women but in reality it is probably seventy five percent men, mostly interested in one another. 

I somehow ran across the next best thing, seal beach. Hundreds of sea lions return each year to breed on the beaches. You can't get close because they close the beach to protect the seals. This things are huge so I doubt I could hurt them. 

I asked two German ladies who were watching the action, if this was a nude beach? They laughed, maybe to be polite.

eighty one

MILES AND MILES OF BEAUTY

The coast of California has endless highways with breathtaking views. It would be easy to focus on the discomforts of touring but the view keeps getting better and better.

The seat can become torture if it isn't the right fit. A lack of fitness can turn the day into an uncomfortable marathon. A poorly fitted bike can create injuries, ending the tour all together. Planning and training are vital to a successful an enjoyable trip. 

l have seen people having a miserable experiences in beautiful places like this because of the lack of preparation.

eighty

74 MILES OF CURVES

If you have ever owned an english roadster or motorcycle you will understand this sign. The thought of 74 miles of twisted highway when you are on a tight schedule is a nightmare. Most of our lives we feel the pressure of a tight schedule. Road construction, heavy traffic, slow drivers, bad weather and late for work, but that's life. The journey I chose has no real schedule. I have no place to be or time clock to punch. 

The physical part takes time and money. It also takes risk, not just physical risk, but escaping the "I should, I can't, I need to"world. Another way to say it is escaping your comfort zone, living out of the box, and many other cornball sayings. 

The mental part takes longer for me. Touring is more then riding a bike, it's a mind set. I'm seperated from everything but the road in front of me. Eat, sleep, bike is about all that happens. Wake up, figure out where I am, pack my gear, find coffee, a bathroom, food, ride until I get hungry, ride until late afternoon then find a safe place to camp, and repeat the next morning. 

The kaos of the road takes all of my focus. I don't view it as an escape from reality more of a journey into reality. Fully living life is important, touring is a place to learn that, but it is not a place to live.

The spiritual part is a byproduct that simply happens. Touring changes me, I think differently, I feel stronger, I see the world in a different way, and my priority list get's rearranged. Actions change attitude, touring is a life changing action.

seventy nine

FELLOW NOMADS

I was a day out of San Diego heading over the mountains. This was my first encounter with a fellow nomad. This guy was so anxious to talk as soon as he saw me from the top of the hill he crossed to my side of the highway. 

He had a big smile on his face as if we were long lost friends then he began to talk and talk and talk. It was apparent he had been on the road much longer then me. 

As the miles and years have passed I have experienced a few solitary weeks of my own. If I do talk to strangers I spend most of the time answering the same questions about my choice of transportation. I talk with people I have never met and will probably never meet again. 

Talking with a person with a common experience and common understanding is like meeting a long lost friend or relative. Solo touring is a process that is hard to explain. It requires long months and many miles before you begin to understand it. 

Since this first encounter with a seasoned fellow nomad I have traveled many of my own solitary miles.  I have that foolish greeting grin and then I talk and talk and talk.

seventy eight

BICYCLE TOURING IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES

The characters I meet along the way are almost always more then they first appear. This guy looked like he could live under a bridge but soon took my picture with a very nice digital camera, down loaded it to his laptop computer, and gave me elevation information from his GPS. He also had a cell phone and said he had a web site. 

We talked about half an hour as the traffic rushed by. We were fellow nomads so I think he felt free to tell me many things he would not reveal to strangers. I soon began to feel the same. We were traveling in opposite directions so we would soon be miles apart.

 

I was obviously new to this and must have looked like I needed the advice. He gave me some valuable information that over the years has helped me avoid trouble. He had been traveling for three years and he looks like he did  for a reason. He said he stays in places for longer periods so risk of trouble increases. He said looking like he did gave him the ability to "blend". I think he does stay under a bridge from time to time. 

He suggested I try not to look like a tourist with expensive gear. I took that advice and it works. I only camp one night at any spot so before the size me up or find me I'm gone.

He said at times the police give him trouble because of his look, but producing a drivers license quickly changes their attitude. Like many I have met along the way, there is an untold story. This guy had secrets I am sure but it is his business. I have learned to take some things people say on the road with a grain of salt.

seventy seven

FEELING THE TRILL

Early biking adventures were in the shadow of big brother. I still ride but my big brother laughs.

seventy six

TIME TO HEAD BACK HOME

I moved from Ohio over twenty years ago, I miss the fall and weather but not the winter snow. This is Cadillac mountain in Bar Harbor Maine. The fall colors of New England were bright and the nights were frosty cold. I had traveled from the Florida humid south to the freezing north of Maine. 

A couple of days before the end I met a young guy from Seattle who had traveled the northern route from Seattle, it was nice to have some company. 

We camped in a small park in a little fishing town then hit the coffee shops for the last day to our common goal, Bar Harbor. I chose to travel south to north just because of the fall colors, it worked well. My hope is that Seattle will offer the same beauty.

seventy five

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

I am about to load my bike into a U-Haul truck and drive to San Diego. The truck was cheap because they need to get trucks back to California so more people can move to Arizona. 

This was my first big trip so I was stoked. I had been talking about touring and building up my bike for a very long time. I had talked a lot of trash, people were getting tired of hearing it. The time had come to walk the talk. This is a picture of a picture so the quality is poor, but I think you can still tell I'm really happy.

I can still see the smile on my camera man's face, a mix of joy and worry.

seventy four

• 

ALL CLEAN AND UNTESTED

The dream, the plan, the bike, the gear, the maps, the training, the money, the time, I love it when a plan comes together. Savoring the beach before I ride east over the mountains.

seventy three

FINALLY

This is San Diego after a morning ride up the Silver Strand form Otay on the border. I had slept in a bad neighborhood in the back of the truck. Dropping the keys off was a thrill. I knew I could do this, but didn't know what to expect. I was about to find out that's for sure. After the first twenty miles I knew this was a dream come true.

seventy two

ONE OF MY FAVORITE PICTURES

I handed my camera to a very nice woman who took this great picture. The history of this place still gives me goose bumps. Most of the tourists were not speaking English, which caused me to wonder if Americans still visited this place. 

If you don’t think we are at war go to Washington DC. When I was a kid we could drive in front of the White House, take tours of the White House and the Capitol Building, I actually see President Nixon. Now there are as many police as tourists and I think much of the tourists are undercover police. 

The White House is being surrounded by walls, and the Capitol is a series of check points and searches. My odd looking bike probably made people nervous so I kept my distance. I spent an hour people watching in a Starbucks on K-street. A homeless guy and I shared some freeze dried meals by the Vietnam Memorial. Marine One landed behind the White House, and the Secret Service escorted someone through the busy street in black SUV's. 

The trip from Maryland brought me though the worst parts of the district. This ten square miles is run by Congress, and just think they also try to run the country.

seventy one

INVISIBLE IN PLAIN SIGHT

Not every place I traveled was quiet and safe; I traveled through some large cities with some rough neighborhoods. I live in the Phoenix area and ride through some crazy places. 

The beauty of a bike is that it goes slow enough to see, but fast enough to not really be there. Riding silently through the roughest neighborhoods is a skill. 

I have learned to be invisible, in front of everyone. This sounds crazy but with body language and the short time it takes to pass through an area. The worst that happens is an occasional look of, “what the heck is that nut doing on that bicycle”. Then by the time they noticed, I’m gone. 

When I make eye contact I nod and smile. I still think the vast majority of people are friendly and kind, some places just have a higher percentage of jerks. There is always the chance of just being "it". If you want to avoid this possibility altogether, stay in bed.

seventy

FLASH FROM THE PAST

This was called Young’s Inn, we stayed here several weeks while on vacation in the seventies. We drove our Fiat 124 Sports Coupe, another great way to see New England. 

It was strange to find this place so many years later. There also was seafood carryout in the place to the right. I ate ten pounds of fried clams from there, and drank a lot of Canadian beer. 

We were young and in love, those were special days. To be 3000 miles from home on a bike and now looking back through time was a strange feeling.

sixty nine

$12 CABINS

These are the small cottages In Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, we stayed in in 1975 and 1976 for $12. They were like miniature houses with kitchens and everything, I think they were built in the twenties. They were closed but will be reopened under new management soon. What would they cost today?

sixty eight

A FAMILIAR BOARD WALK

This was Ocean City Maryland, a place I have visited many times thirty years ago. The thing I noticed about beaches was that they all have their own unique personality. I saw so many beaches in 2004, San Francisco to San Diego and Florida to Maine. 

Some beaches are beach front private homes and stony shorelines that are great for finding sea shells at low tide. The long white sand beaches with white surf and surfers. Just a warning, never ever use those portable toilets. Still others are strangely empty, perhaps the 50 degree water was a factor. 

I watched young Canadians surf in Maine, with light wet suits, no boots, gloves or hoods. But these are the same people who play ice hockey, perhaps my desert rat wimp factor is showing. 

There are flat hard packed sand beaches suitable for truck and car traffic. Some are places to take your family. Some you you get drunk, get a tattoo and get lucky. 

I enjoyed them all, as I slowly drifted through.

sixty seven

TOBACCO COUNTRY?

On a bike you don't need or want super highways, the two lane country roads are perfect. This is a quiet road through Connecticut and to my surprise it was tobacco country. 

I was not expecting tobacco this far north. I learned later that most of these leaves were used in cigar making for the outside wrapping. We have a preconceived notion of what places are like until we actually visit. 

This mode of travel allows you to see and feel everything. Name a state I have traveled through and I remember the terrain, bugs, accents, food, climate, smells and the people. 

I have driven across country several times. I ate the same foods in the same service plazas, passed through cities and gaged the size by the number of exits. The only people I did meet were at gas stops fueling up like me. 

Coast to coast the freeways looks the same. However, the pace on a bike and the need to camp and eat puts me in touch with people and places in a very special way.