Categories
Prize Giveaways

VIDEOS: Evernote Hello & Vague Direction (plus a competition to win stuff!)

COMPETITION NOW CLOSED – congratulations to the winners – enjoy your year-long Evernote Premium accounts!

[dropcap]Bit[/dropcap] of a different post today. There’s a high chance that you have a small selection of go-to apps on your phone, ones that you use day in day out and don’t really think about. It’s rare to find an app that becomes totally engrained in your everyday life – it’s always open because it’s useful, provides value and is effortless – Evernote is one of those. It’s a second brain where you can safely store your ideas, notes and thoughts. It’s the only tool I use to keep track of everything that happens on the road.

I’ve been working in partnership with the Silicon Valley folks for a while now, and some of that work has presented itself over on The Evernote Blog (read all about it here) and in this commercial about Evernote Hello – which has played a crucial role in this project so far, and is super intuitive & useful when it comes to remembering the people you meet.

And below you can see a video about how Evernote in general comes in handy on the Vague Direction project. It’d be easy to reel off all the ways that the app helps with efficiency in the video, but it’d be quite long, so other highlights that were left out are included below the video.

  • Web Clipper – for any articles or text from the internet, use clipper to copy the articles, then read them offline.
  • Image recognition is built into search. It can read text from photos / receipts / travel tix / posters etc (this blew my mind).
  • Skitch – for annotating photos and maps. Good for marking directions.

If you don’t use Evernote, and want to be more productive, check it out – odds are you’ll never look back.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

247 – 254: Fairbanks, AK to Whitehorse, YK

Straight after getting back from the Stampede Trail, I spent a while in Fairbanks with some sketchy illness. Water-from-the-river related maybe. Whatever it was, it meant a few days of not going anywhere. Other than recovery on the road being an altogether inconvenience, it wasn’t a big deal because the time could also act as an opportunity to get recharged for the final leg of the journey. Fairbanks is the highest point North on this trip, and the final ‘corner’. It was a weird relief to know this was the last turning point, but still whilst looking over the map I couldn’t help but be hit with a wave of anxiety, which is stupid really after coming this far. The biggest leg is yet to come and it’s a really bloody long way back to the East Coast from Alaska. Obviously it all comes together when you set off, bite size pieces and all that, but regardless there was a wave of intimidation in the air – unparalleled since looking down out of the plane window on the way to start this thing.

247: Fairbanks – Shaw Pond (75 miles)

The ride from Fairbanks followed the Tanana River upstream. Keep going upstream and you don’t have to worry about any other navigation. Simple, if you ignore that following a river upstream inevitably means a lot of hill climbing. The first town you hit is North Pole and it’s not often you find yourself riding down Santa Claus Lane in North Pole. By now the bike started to be getting a bit clunky. It’s gotten easy to spot when certain mechanical problems are imminent, and a skipping chain means a snapped chain is just around the corner. It’s become a twisted challenge now – rather than frustration it’s a game of how long can you make it last? Not very in this case. The repairs have become a game too -how fast can this get sorted? Not very in this case. It was eventually going smoothly though and for the first time, the mountains made an appearance from behind the clouds. Mega.

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Ticked a goal at the end of the evening too which was to find a stealth camp spot near somewhere to swim. There have been places that appear great for swimming but have been glacially-fed / freeze-your-privates-off cold (looking at you, British Columbia). Shaw Pond  was fairly deserted other than a couple of RV’s parked up for the night and deep. And the water was bearable at last.

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250: Delta Jct – Tok Jct (108 miles)

The cycling’s been samey for a while. The odd lake, the occasional roadside moose, but mostly open tundra or tree meadows (a lot of them burnt from the notorious forest fires that hit Alaska each year because of lightning strikes.) Bumped into Javier, a hilarious and infectiously upbeat Argentinian who’s a few days away from finishing an epic 18 month journey from the Ushuaia in South America to the Beaufort Sea in the North of Alaska. From the bottom to the top of the Americas. Hardcore. Clearly 18 months on the road have taken their toll though, because now he wears plastic bags on his feet.

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 251: Tok Jct – Northway Jct (49 miles)

Other than in sections of Texas and Arizona, the actual cycling between towns has been solo. For the most part, other cyclists have been going the other way. That all changed outside of Tok Junction, when in the space of about half an hour, there ended up being 4 riders from 3 separate parties cycling together the same way.

First up there was Busy from Colorado and Michael (blog) from North Carolina, university pals who are on a month long trip that goes Anchorage > Fairbanks > Whitehorse > Juneau. Like any crowd, or sport, or whatever, a minority of the cyclists you meet can be ‘touring snobs’, who judge your gear and route choices and don’t seem much fun. It’s always a million times more enjoyable riding with those who are in it for light-hearted reasons rather than being 100% focused on the act of cycle touring, so I was so glad to hear after a minute of meeting these lot, “Wahey, another member of the say-no-to-spandex team”.

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10 minutes later, there was Wish (or 施暐煦 – his blog here) from Taiwan, who was two days into his trip from Fairbanks to Whitehorse, and then down the West Coast to San Diego. He’d not done a bike trip before and it was easy to relate to his obvious shock of “what am I getting myself into?”. Physically, the first couple of weeks are definitely the sorest, the most intimidating and the time when you learn the most quickly about how it all works.

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252: Northway Jct, AK – Beaver Creek, YK (Canada)

The day started off like most, nothing unusual. Just a gentle ride hoping to get into Canada. It was only 45 miles or so away. A couple of hours and it was the same kind of thing as previous days. A plod on quiet roads through Alaskan tundra. Then it suddenly all went downhill, whilst riding uphill.

There haven’t been any serious prolonged injuries on this entire trip so far. There was a bruised metatarsal in Charleston, SC, but with The Body Rehab’s help, it was fixed in a couple of days. There was a brief 24 hours of knee pain in El Paso, TX, but it was gone quickly. Other than that, nothing. Cut back to the hill climb, and a moment where on a downstroke a tweak shot through my right knee. It was fairly obvious something had happened – pedalling uphill brought on a sharp pain and even walking with the bike was a limpfest. It was clear no more riding was going to happen that afternoon so out went the thumb. A hitchhike to the next town, Beaver Creek, to figure out what to do next.

The first car to pass was the one that stopped, an amazing ratio. They didn’t have any room in the car but were towing a Yamaha in a trailer, which had just about enough spare room to stuff my bike in the back and crawl in amongst the motorbike and the pushbike. In between the departure borders of Alaska and the entry into The Yukon is a kind of no-mans land. You’ve left the US, and are in Canada, but you haven’t been officially stamped in. And the roads are TERRIBLE. Forget paved road, this is a mix of dirt, gravel and sand. The crew in the car didn’t seem to mind, so being in the trailer and bouncing up and down as we hit each pothole was like being on a rollercoaster in a theme park. Loved it.

I was soon at Beaver Creek and ended up setting up a really obvious tent site by the side of the road in between a bunch of statues. When you put up a tent whilst you’re kind of knackered, and then wake up and stumble out of the tent to be greeted by this guy WITH A PICKAXE, it definitely wakes you up fast.

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253: Beaver Creek – Whitehorse

Camping with an injury in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere when it’s raining is crap, no two ways about it. I woke up still limping and decided it’d be wise to hole up in the nearest town of any size. That was Whitehorse, so out went the thumb again and an hour later a huge RV pulled over. Valerie and Joni, along with 3 tiny dogs, were driving all the way to Olympia, WA and were going right through Whitehorse. As you’d expect if they were willing to drive a stranger for a few hours, they were both super friendly but their time in Alaska had been enough (the constant summer light plays havoc with your head and quality of sleep) and they were were excited to the lower 48 again.

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254+ Whitehorse

There’s been a heavy stint of constant rain recently. A couple of nights where it was so intense, that in just the time between getting gear out of the panniers and setting up a camp, everything was soaked. Basically like sleeping in a puddle, so they weren’t the best nights and were more quick rest than proper sleep. The first night in Whitehorse was torrential and ended up being one of the bad stealth camp nights, on the concrete behind a DIY store. Honestly if you’re reading this and plan to do a bike trip in the future, don’t think you need to camp behind home repair stores on the concrete. This was just daft planning and a ‘Urghh, I give up’ late night mentality.

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It’s really hard to be psyched when it’s so wet. Riding just isn’t enjoyable, much of your gear gets soaked, and compounded tent life is draining. It doesn’t happen all that much, but I’ve opted for a few-day stint in a Whitehorse motel. It’s a few days holed up with an iced knee, a raised leg, a bunch of ibuprofen as per physio instructions, gear drying in the corner and the sound of rain tapping at the window. Busy and Michael arrived yesterday too on their way to Skagway so it’s been nice to know people in town and feast on pizza. Strangely, all it takes to be motivated sometimes is a decent kip and dry gear. The rain is due to leave, and after a few nights here I’m raring to go again, so hopefully the next blog will be more upbeat. The ever fluctuating highs and lows of road life!

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– – –

247: Fairbanks – Shaw Pond (75 miles)
248: Shaw Pond – Delta Jct (21 miles)
250: Delta Jct – Tok Jct (108 miles)
251: Tok Jct – Northway Jct (49 miles)
252: Northway Jct – Beaver Creek (45m ride / 15m hitchhike split)
253: Beaver Creek – Whitehorse (277 mile hitchhike)

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

230 – 237: Whittier to Fairbanks, AK.

Moose, big days and Independence Day. It’s been another wet week, most days providing torrential rain sessions. Not unbearable, but kind of frustrating as Denali is totally invisible in the heavy grey clouds. Quiet week in terms of meeting anyone and filming with them – that’s Alaska though I guess. Hoping to backtrack a little bit and head back into the National Park and to Healy in a day or so on a slightly different mission which could result in material. Rather than post about the rain too much, here’s a few highlights.

235: 20m N of Trapper Creek – Cantwell, AK (80 miles)

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Face to face with a moose. Holy smokes. Not many places in the world where you find yourself making eye contact with a moose. 11PM in Cantwell, working up and down Denali highway trying to find a place to setup camp. And there it was, maybe 50 metres away, stumbling across the road with the most unusual walk. It paused. I paused. It moved. I moved. It was awesome in the literal sense of the word.

A few people so far have talked about moose as their primary food source. They say a moose’s meat can last a family a year or more. It’s hard to picture from photographs, but seeing the scale of the animal – it instantly made sense. Still amazed, I couldn’t find a suitable place to camp, so might’ve slept on the floor in a post office. Not sure if that’s strictly allowed but it might have been / was warm, dry and mosquito-free.

236: Cantwell – Healy, AK (40 miles)

It was about 10.30am and I was sat at a table in the corner of a Cantwell gas station. Firing off some emails before setting out for the day. A brief look up every now and then to see whether the drizzle had ceased. Current mileage, zero.

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“That your bike outside?” asked Jeff, an Alaskan native cycling from Anchorage to Fairbanks. A super positive guy who was travelling light, on a racing bike and having a friend following him in a van providing support.

“How far have you gone today?”. Nowhere yet, Jeff! How far have you gone?

“I’ve done 77 miles this morning. Been pretty grim on the road though in this weather.”

77 miles and he was only just stopping for breakfast/lunch. As you do. I was inspired by Jeff’s pre-breakfast epic mission and positive mentality, and left eager to hit the road. And minutes later Jeff overtook me, with ease, on his carbon fibre bike with speed bars.

“Have a good ride!”, he shouted back. You too Lance. Sorry I mean Jeff.

237: Healy – Fairbanks, AK (113 miles)

The longest day so far, by a single mile. And certainly the most arduous for a long time. There are days that look ‘big’ on paper but aren’t. One that comes to mind is the stretch from Van Horn – El Paso, TX. It’s basically 106 miles of downhill with minimal pedalling, and it’s over really quickly. Then you get some 50 miles days that take forever because of the terrain. Today was more like the latter – a long and gruelling hilly day.

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It’s the height of Alaskan summer, so there’s plenty of light. Really the days can be as long as you like. It was a typical groggy morning waking up on a patch of grass near Healy’s only gas station. I cycled up to the centre of town (it’s a tiny town so ‘centre’ is a loose term). It was only then that the celebrations made sense. 4th of July – the USA’s birthday. There was going to be a bunch of floats driving down the main street at 11am, celebrating the day. Not going to miss this. I wondered over to the street and waited, along with maybe 20 locals lining the side of the street. It wasn’t a big do, amusingly small even – a few horses, a fire engine, someone getting pulled along in a kayak by a bicycle, a gorilla mascot – and it was over in about 5 minutes. A late start but worth the wait to celebrate the 4th. Everyone was happy and got free candyfloss. No one was complaining. Sweets for breakfast? Go on then.

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It was a national day off so most people were staying home. Empty roads. The start of the ride was fast. A strong tailwind and mainly downhill for 30 miles. Even on the uphills, the wind would keep you going in top gear. Get in. Then the wind died down, the climbs became consistent, and it started to pour down. It can be alright riding in the rain for a bit. Then it starts to suck. There was maybe an hour or so of heavy rain riding, before cycling through Nenana and finding shelter at the gas station, where these folks all had the same idea.

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For a while there was an inpromptu bike party, everyone sitting out the torrential rain. It eased off after a while though, and it was great to ride with Julia and Hannes from Germany who were heading the same way (see their website). Seems like the majority of other cyclists on long trips aren’t from the US and have been drawn by a grass-is-always-greener thirst for a North American adventure. Thinking back, it’s probably a ratio close to 5:1 International / USA.

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At this point it had been a long day, but there was still 44 miles or so to go. On one hand knowing how much you have left is a good thing, the countdown keeps you pedalling. “1 mile down. 43 left.” etc. On the other, it just can seem never ending. There were so many times, getting to the top of a hill and seeing another hill coming up. It’s torture. But eventually the climbs turned to downhills, and there was a 3 mile full-speed-ahead blast into town. Nice way to end. I pulled into Fairbanks at 11.15pm, dizzy and drowsy, set up the tent near a community centre and that was that.

Just throwing this out there – what kind of people sum up America & Canada in your mind? There are no pre-arranged Vague Direction People meetings for a while, so I’d love to hear any thoughts you have as to who might be interesting to feature and talk to about their lifestyle. (For example – a clown, ice hockey coach, gold prospector etc). Love to hear your suggestions if you have them in the comment section below.

Huge thanks to Best Western Chena River Lodge for their amazing hospitality on a rest day in Fairbanks, what a place! Worth a look if you’re in the area.

Here’s the last week, plus quick map.

230: Whittier – Anchorage (60 miles)
231: Anchorage – Palmer (42 miles)
232: Palmer – Willow (48 miles)
233: Willow – Trapper Creek (52 miles)
234: Trapper Creek – McKinley View Lodge (20 miles)
235: McKinley View Lodge – Cantwell (80 miles)
236: Cantwell – Healy, AK (40 miles)
237: Healy – Fairbanks, AK (113 miles) 

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Philosophy

Vague Direction People: Ruben Fleischer [video]

Ruben Fleischer is the director of Gangster Squad, 30 Minutes Or Less & Zombieland. We met up back in California to chat carving a path, demolishing barriers to entry, and coping with the struggle. And cycling too.

“The one talent I think I have more than anything else is persistence. I just won’t give up. So when I was trying to be a director, I put myself 35 thousand dollars in debt, but I was determined that it was going to work out. I wasn’t going to stop until I figured it out. It just was unfathomable.”

Meeting Ruben was something I’d been looking forward to, partly because I dig his work, but also because he questioned the traditional path and carved a unique route to get to where he wanted to be. It takes guts, determination and a belief in what you’re doing to commit so much, financially and otherwise, in chasing where you think you should be, especially when at the time it was such an untested path.

“I used to dub my reel onto VHS, and send it to production companies, and it was expensive to make the tapes, to buy the tapes, to send them to the companies, so I just started putting videos on my website, and this was before Youtube, so I would just host them all. And then I also had a news site on my website, which was kind of like an early blog type thing, where I would, in HTML, type the date and write stuff like ‘this is what I did today’ and ‘this video just fell through’. Just trying to figure out how to make it as a director.”

Here’s just a very quick and rough snippet of the interview – there’s more footage to come later down the line. Maybe even footage of a controlled explosion. (Click here to watch the video if you’re reading this in your email browser).

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Thanks to homie Samira for her camera handiwork on this one.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 57 – 62: Baton Rouge to Kinder, LA

Been taking shelter from a major thunderstorm for the last couple of days in South West Lousiana. Quick (rushed) catch up post today with phone images.

Day 57: Baton Rouge

Rest day in Baton Rouge. Spent the day getting organised and exploring. *Techy system alert* Decided to change up the stove system I’ve been using. It was a penny-stove. It’s now an MSR Whisperlite. The new one is heavier, but opens up the possibilities (i.e. you can do more than heat up tins or cook noodles). Also, the penny stove was a bit of a faff and the Whisperlite will fare better in the more remote parts of the route. Faff reduction – always a good thing. One of the things that life on the road makes you miss is a kitchen so this simple change is quite exciting.

Other than that it was awesome just to have a break. Louisiana seafood has been recommended a lot, so I found a little place near the motel to try the raved-about Gumbo, which is kind of like a seafood soup / rice combo. A great little local spot run by an old woman called Louise, funnily enough. Southern hospitality really is inspiring, the reports are true. She was totally cool and told great (and terrifying) stories about the local fishing community working in the fairly regular Gulf storms. The Gumbo was amazing, too!

Day 58: Baton Rouge to New Roads (33 miles)

Leaving Baton Rouge, it all changed. The contrast from urban and industrial to vast green countryside happened within the space of about a mile. The busy and intimidating Baton Rouge roads quickly lead to some of the best and quietest roads so far. Totally quiet, rural roads through old plantations. Super quiet, the only thing to listen to was the sound of cows, frogs and birds. A bit therapeutic.

It was always going to be a short day, after a late start. And it didn’t take too long to reach the end. Sunday in New Roads that meant everything other than a petrol station was shut, but in terms of a town atmosphere, it was a good one. An amazing old waterfront town, with the atmosphere and aesthetics of a Western film. Stealth camped right in the center of town in a park.

Day 59: New Roads to Lebeau (51 miles)

Late start making pancakes and pineapple on’t new stove. That’s the way to start the day!

It was all going so well. Stoked to get a big day in. But of course it’s never that simple! Sometimes, rather than after-the-fact write ups, it’s good to know what was happening at the time. I use Evernote to keep note of everything that happens throughout the day, and this is from Day 59’s note:

“Like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Except less comedy, more horror. Another puncture. Cycled the same stretch of road, twice now leaving NR. PITA bike.”

Whilst cycling out of New Roads, after about 7 miles, I got another puncture. Seems to be happening a lot recently. After a lot of faff, and the irritating realisation that the pump I picked up in Baton Rouge is a piece of crap, it was eventually sorted after hitching a ride back into New Roads (Cheers Susan!).

Bumped into Paul Guillott, a retiree who now spends a lot of his time exploring his home state on his Honda. By his own admission, he’s “living the dream” which is amazing. Sometimes he and his wife will just take off on the bike and travel up to 650 miles in a day, just to see a new place that they’ve never been to before. His bike is kitted out. Think heated leather seats and thumping music. Unfortunately Paul wasn’t in to the suggestion that we swap bikes. Gutted.

Also, I met a cyclist called Glen today who was cycling the Southern Tier route from West to East. He was on a snazzy lightweight road bike, with just a very light rucksack on his back, and clearly in a rush. Travelling light, and bouncing between hotels after taking 36 days leave from his work in Pennsylvania, he was gunning for it, averaging 92 miles a day. It’s always facinating exploring the 6 degrees of separation theory. Glen had lived in the Lake District and Guildford for a year during his college days. Small world.

The ride, after the puncture-faff, went well. It didn’t take long for it to get dark after setting off so late, so it was a lit up night ride. Ended up camping in a field in a tiny, tiny little village called Lebeau.

Day 60: Lebeau to Kinder (63 miles)

Up at first light, and on the bike early. Definitely the way to do it if you’re after doing big days. Bumped into Terry in a town called Washington – the jolliest chap in Louisiana, who  provided the first indication of what was to come.

“You be careful now. You’re gonna want to bunk up for the next few days. There’s going to be 8 inches of rain coming down this evening.” I checked the forecast, and he was spot on.

The storm was due at about 5pm. So luckily there was still a good few hours to make a bit of progress. Through Opelousas, Eunice, Basile and Elton, and eventually ending up at Kinder when the rain started to fall.

Day 61: Kinder (5 miles)

The forecast was right. There’s a major storm here. Intense rain and lightning every minute. Some of the schools are closing due to flood warnings, so it’s not something the locals are taking lightly. They’re hunkering down, so being on the road isn’t too appealing. Sitting it out in a budget motel for a night.

I was talking to a couple of people earlier, and when talking about what they get up to in Kinder, they mentioned the Casino was “the only entertainment for miles around.” Gambling is a huge part of American culture, so I was interested to check it out, and of course win big with my $10. Unfortunately filming wasn’t permitted, but it was a unique experience for sure. Such an in-your-face atmosphere with all the lights and the music bombarding the senses. It was eye opening to see the locals who come every day, and spend all day here.  It was as though life had vanished from behind their eyes as they looked into the slot machines and pulled the lever, time after time, hoping for a big win whilst simultaneously losing money.  One of the themes that a lot of the people in the casino talked about, was how they had begun regularly gambling once retired. It’s easy to see how that world can hook people who are looking for something to fill their time with.

Day 62: Kinder

Just a rest day in Kinder. Nothing much to report about today. More intense rain, a little less lightning. Setting off tomorrow to try and make Texas in the gap between storms. The Texan state line is in sight, which is where the riding gets ‘serious’ apparently.

“Make sure you don’t lose your mind in East and Central Texas! After that it’s some of the best riding out there”. Glen mentioned that East and Central Texas is for sure the hardest part of the Southern Tier route, with the gradients and the nothingness, so it sounds like it’ll be interesting.

Ready for something deep? I’ve been having a few mental battles recently about what this all means, whether it even is meaningful, the pace and people, and coping with the solo aspects of travelling – there’s a dark side for sure, in the mind. The metaphorical roller coaster ride was always expected, though, so it’s not a concern. On the down days, it’s people like Louise, Paul and Terry who, by telling their story, provide much needed positivity and a mental lift. It’s great to completely forget about the route, the cycling, the blog, the filming etc sometimes.

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Quick link. I recently did a guest post for BicycleTouringPro which you can read here. Take a look around the site too, it’s crammed full of useful info, great stories and motivating adventures – a great resource if you’re wanting to know about anything to do with cycle touring.

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 10: Norfolk, VA to Ahoskie, NC

Day 10: Norfolk, VA to Ahoskie, NC (Odometer reads: 79 miles – that’s with faffing and getting lost on the way out of Norfolk. Nail it first time and it’s more like 75 miles.)

Didn’t meet any people today for more than a few minutes at a time so it’s more a purely cycling post today.

Started from the budget motel in Norfolk, VA this morning, and begun the urban navigation with the first goal being to get on to the US. Route 13 highway heading South.

Norfolk is home to Norfolk Naval Base, the largest of it’s kind in the world. So cycling out of the city and over the rivers you get to see a variety of ships being built, dismantled, and repaired including a couple of huge aircraft carriers and some other super-serious looking ships.

As for the cycling in the city, it’s tricky to get to the US-13, as you aren’t allowed to go through some of the tunnels and over some of the bridges. Eventually I found this one and was soon on the way. Riding down the other side of this bridge was incredible – top gear, body low, FAST!

Got on the right route shortly thereafter and was greeted with great roads with wide shoulders. Eventually it went past the edge of The Great Dismal Swamp Wildlife Refuge (what a name!), which was great. Swampy, wooded, and autumnal. It does a lot for overall motivation when cycling through inspiring places.

And then it finally happened! At a set of traffic lights on the way through downtown Suffolk, the light turned green, I pedalled about a half-stroke and SNAP! That’ll be the first mechanical issue of the trip – snapped chain.

Fixed it eventually (it’s been a while!) and carried on, sure that it would only last another few minutes before breaking again (thankfully it didn’t). The whole endeavour created some incredibly oily hands.

After cycling out of Suffolk, there was a sign that read ‘NC State Line – 16 miles’. That is motivation in sign form. It’s the little things ‘eh? The landscapes from then on were mainly cotton-fields which were unusual on the eye at first.

Other than the snapped chain, it all seemed to line up today. Flat roads, rested body, and the wind. A perfect North Easterly. I’ve read so much about headwinds being awful (wouldn’t know yet). But what isn’t mentioned as much is how great it is to have the wind on your back. It makes for noticeably faster progress.

Staying in a budget motel tonight in Ahoskie, NC, and I’m currently working down to Wilmington (hopefully in 2 days time) and then on to Charleston, SC (where there’s surfing!) a couple of days later than that.

My GPS is tracking the route to the meter, so on a rest day soon I’ll try to pull the data off it and upload a totally accurate route-so-far. For now though a rough Google maps will do. Today’s route: