At the end of a very long day a week or two ago, dear homies Visual Collective and I teamed up to record a piece about Vague Direction when we possibly maybe probably definitely should’ve been doing other things. They’re very nice.
Hey everyone,
Big ol’ news today. The Vague Direction Book, about the bicycle journey and the stories that happened along the way, is written. And I’d love your help to publish it.
So today, for a limited time, I’m launching a Kickstarter crowdfunding campaign to help get over the final hurdle, which is to get: cover design, interior formatting, and the first print-run of the paperback.
Here’s the link, which has literally just gone live! (Ah, sorry! The campaign is now over, but we were successful!)
On the Kickstarter campaign, you’ll find a few packages – ranging from pre-ordering a single book, to pre-ordering some for you and your friends, to video hangouts, framed photographs and more.
Thank you, I can’t wait for you to read the book! It’s demanded more than ever imagined, it’s taken absolutely ages, and the writing process has been one heck of a journey in itself, but hopefully it’s a better read for it! Really hope you’ll enjoy it.
Head over to Kickstarter to find out a lot more about it, and to pledge to make it happen.
P.S. If you regularly get anything from this blog and would like to get involved in another way, spreading the word about the Kickstarter campaign to your social networks (here’s the Vague Direction Facebook page) etc would be amazing and would really help :)
Dear Book,
Sorry for telling you to leave and never come back. But sometimes… well, sometimes I hate you.
You don’t even realise you’re doing it, but you make everything so difficult. Whenever we’re in the same room, I hollowly stare at you – for hours or days – like a boneheaded idiot gazing at your pages with nothing to say. You’re overwhelming and knowing where to start can seem impossible. So I often don’t start at all. I just ignore you and hope that you’ll be gone when I get back.
The other day the guy behind Game Of Thrones said he likes having written but doesn’t like writing. That struck a chord and I’m pretty sure you know why. You do know why, don’t you?
It’s been a while now. We’d met briefly before but it was fleeting. How it eventually became a commitment like it is now I’ll never know. And it pains me to say it, but there’s frequently times when I wish we’d never met, because it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I often look at real writers from a distance and think you should just go and hang with them instead. They have skill and know what they’re doing. You’d be in better company with them.
You know I said I hated you? Well that’s sometimes true, but at least the hatred goes both ways. At least we have that in common.
You hate when I think we can’t compete and should go our separate ways.
You hate that sometimes I swear. Shit.
You hate that you frequently have to come at the end of the to-do list.
You hate when we went away and fell out and I spent time with her instead of you.
You hate that our process is so condition-dependent and full of false excuses.
Not unless I’ve had caffeine or a sandwich or am feeling “inspired”.
We’ve probably grown recently but haven’t realised it yet. It was our biggest rejection. We tried to keep it under the radar and act like we didn’t care but we did. We really did. I thought we’d cracked it. It looked so promising until, out of the blue, the publisher said sorry-but-no. I’m pretty sure that’s what getting stabbed in the eyeball with a dirty Swiss Army knife feels like. Let’s not do that again. Let’s do it on our own instead.
There’s still work to do. A few months’ worth. Neither of us realised we were signing up for something that would take this long, but unfortunately you’re still well rough around the edges and need polishing. But holy toast-crumbs, we’ve come a long way.
Sorry, I take it back. I don’t hate you at all. You’re alright when you’re not being difficult.
Yeah. You’re alright.
Blurry windows. Tapping at phones. Window gazers. Sleepers. The Swede sat on the luggage rack and the classic Loud Eater. That familiar streak of towns as we glide through them. On the train, on the move again. And a sudden, distinct moment of nostalgia just hit. A song came on.
“Many days fell away with nothing to show. And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we loved. Great clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above. But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?”
Oh no. I just put song lyrics in a blog post. Sorry. Who does that? But the point is this – Music. It is cool isn’t it? How peculiar is it that a simple song can take you back to a single moment. I remember it as clear as day. It was the day after cycling away from Niagara Falls, staying with firstly strangers now pals, Heather and Mike. They’d put on a surprise spread and it was cracking. There was real Canadian maple syrup. Not the fake maple syrup, the real stuff. The syrup that’s targetted by organised crime bosses because it’s so good. It marked the end of the Canada section, eh. Crossing over again and riding back into the US for the final few weeks.
The air. Oh crikey. It was starting to get cold. At the time, ‘starting to get cold’ was a less harsh thing to write than ‘it’s f*cking freezing’. Sometimes I felt like a fraud for doing that, softening up the reality of certain days. That was prior to learning that an honest blog makes for a better blog. Every morning was more bitter than the previous one. This song came on. The roads were empty. Headphones set to loud – dangerously loud when cars passed by and dangerously fun when they didn’t. When you got going it was perfect. There’s need to soften up a day like that when you get going. Being cold and warming up beats being too hot any day. Ten minutes in and it was perfection. Every pedal-stroke, every mile, and every new song set on a backdrop where the colours could’ve been put on the front of a Happy Autumn postcard.
“But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?”
It does. Sorry again for the lyrics. But the song. It brings back good times. And bad. The whole spectrum. It was the most epic 368 days I’ve had chance to be part of so far. The people and the journey made it what it was. A trip full of intense highs and scraping lows. There’s no bike to look after now though. Not on this mini-trip. I remember the rage it caused sometimes, the desperate desire to get rid of the stress of looking after it so much. Not leaving it anywhere out of sight because it contained everything. Or taking a foolish gamble and locking it up with fingers firmly crossed. Sometimes just hiding it in the nearest trees. But now that worry is missed of course, because that kind of stress changes with time. Like memories do.
Anyway enough of that. There’s just rucksacks now. Two small rucksacks that once again contain everything. There’s a specific reason for being here. An end goal. That is to see this through, to do it and not talk about doing it. I’m going somewhere new, the capital city of Croatia of all places, to finish the Vague Direction book. Creative doubt has kicked in. It’s been kicked in for months in preparation, but that’s sometimes a good thing. I don’t know if it’ll be worth it but would prefer to risk finding out and then going from there. Figure that even if it’s a flop it beats talking about it and not doing it. And it’ll be a weird type of closure.
This trip isn’t as long as last time. Nowhere near. Just enough time. Somewhere without the old distractions, but with new ones to get distracted by. And a deadline of 8 weeks to finish the inside of a book before getting kicked out of by Bizerka the landlord. Because of all that it wasn’t sad leaving this time, just exciting. It’s not for a long time, and it doesn’t revolve around constant movement, so it will be different, but just as new.
The reason behind doing this is simple. The most creative I’ve ever felt was during that year on a bicycle. Ideas flowed like they don’t do in a more regular way of life. Speaking of which, Stanford just released research saying a persons creativity increases 60% when walking. Gonna hedge a very non-academic bet and guess that those kind of results aren’t exclusive to walking. Fresh air and taking a step away from wherever you’re used to have to play a large part. Stepping away from wherever you’re used to. Typical days make it easy to forget about those factors and get too settled in a routine. We all have unique ways to find creative flow and I’m hoping that going somewhere new will provide a way to get immersed in that state.
So after however many months it’s been, it’s time to turn the same playlists back on and delve back into last year. Can’t wait to get this going again. Who knows what nostalgia will kick in when the hip-hop comes on.
“Long as there’s batteries in my Walkman, nothing’s the matter with me, sh*t look on the brightside, least I am walking. I bike ride through the neighbourhood of my apartment complex on a ten-speed, which I’ve acquired parts that I find in the garbage – a frame then put tyres on it, headphones on look straight ahead” – Eminem.
The final section of California riding ended in Eureka, which is where the mayhem ensued. Not got long to write this so it’s more like a photo timeline.
For the last few weeks there’s been a looming whisper attached to the journey – the Canadian border. Much more time was spent in California than first anticipated so the project was way behind track for a while, and crossing in to Canada would make all visa concerns vanish. Ah.
It means I’ve skipped cycling through Oregon entirely, and most of Washington state too. I don’t mind jumping ahead too much though, as there’s new plans in momentum that will provide much more of an adventure than the original route. So anyway, the looming deadline. The start of May means being in Canada. It just wasn’t going to be possible by cycling. After some googling, the most suitable option from Eureka was the bus. Not just one bus though. It went: Eureka, CA – Oakland, CA – Sacramento, CA – Portland, OR – Seattle, WA. That should have raised alarm bells. And it took an entire millennium (not 100% accurate but that’s how it seemed).
It was a truly awful bus journey – in hindsight I’d have tried hitchhiking instead, or crawling for that matter. Putting a bike on the bus shouldn’t be that complicated – but for whatever reason (Jeremy Jobsworth’s who enjoy making life difficult) the ‘policy’ is a nightmare for bikes, and maybe it was just a bad stroke of luck, but the staff at the terminals were the worst people to deal with. Probably ever, but certainly on this trip.
Anyway after jumping through the most absurd hoops, getting in to a ‘heated discussion’ with a staff member at Sacramento who proclaimed that he ‘ain’t gonna pull no fucking dollars out of his ass’, dismantling the bike, shoddily boxing it up, and sitting down for a 32 hour bus ride, we pulled in to Seattle. And at that exact moment I vowed never to ride the Greyhound ever again. Is that a vent? Because just writing that down felt great.
On a more positive note, Seattle was brilliant. I stayed on Emily and John’s couch for a couple of nights, who live up in the Wallingford area (they also make High Above Designs bags). It was quite a novelty to be able to leave the bike and explore the city on feet, free of the heavy weight for a while and without burden. Also, there’s a neat bike shop called Recycled Cycles who did a stellar job servicing the stead.
Numerous people in Seattle suggested avoiding the mainly-urban mainland route up into Canada, and taking the ferry-hopping San Juan Islands route instead. It was great advice. From Seattle it was a quick hop over to Bainbridge Island and an amazing bivvy overlooking the downtown Seattle skyline.
The ferry hopping and island riding was in some jaw dropping areas. Hopping a couple of states means that the geography has changed significantly, and now it’s very much a snow-topped and serious-looking mountain landscape. It’s the first indication of the remote nature that’s to come over the next couple of months.
After several ferries and some awesome riding, I boarded the ferry which would mark the end of the US section of the trip (for now). Getting on at Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, and docking in Sidney, BC a couple of hours later. I always find border crossings a little intimidating, until that wonderful stamp hits the passport and puts ink on the page. Welcome to Canada, eh! And breathe.
I hung out in Sidney (which is on Vancouver Island, a bit north of Victoria) for a few hours and got the last boat from there to Vancouver proper. Although where it actually drops you off is actually 40 miles from Vancouver. Damn. Maybe being in a new country acted as a catalyst, but at the stealth camp (behind a concrete bollard by the highway – luxurious) this morning I had a sort out of gear and all the unnecessary weight that has accumulated in the pannier bags over the last couple of months. There was loads, so I sent a package to a buddies house back in California, and holy smokes the bike felt great. It was lighter than ever before, and it had just been serviced. It was the best the bike has felt for months. And then two spokes snapped. Of course they did. Is that sods law? Luckily they were both non-drive side so were easy to replace on the fly.
I was lacing the new spokes in a park when a red pickup truck pulled over. It was a local couple from Richmond, Gary and Wendy. “You know you can’t cycle under that tunnel, right? You need to go back to the service station. Bikes are put on a shuttle through the tunnel.”
Several people have mentioned Canadian friendliness and generosity, but I didn’t think it’d happen so fast. Gary and Wendy ended up acting as the shuttle, we piled the bike in to the back, and drove over to their house where I could finish fixing the wheel, do laundry, take a shower, have some lunch, and all that good stuff. The first full day in Canada and the rumors are true.
It’s all go from here. A new section of the adventure begins now, it’s getting wild and that’s super exciting. Eh.
6.45am. Stinson Beach State Park.
Brad is originally from Boston, and as a teenager sold drugs, until he was caught. On the day he was released from the jail that he’d spent the last 10 years in, he had a couple of options. Do something that would land him back inside – like punching someone, or choose a different path away from the place he’d now become comfortable. He chose to literally walk away. He’s been walking for the last 13 years.
“After 10 years, I had 60 dollars and one piece of paper. They dropped me off, right downtown Boston. Thousands of people, I didn’t understand what, who. I was taken care of for 10 years. I didn’t know how to live. I was scared and nervous, because I didn’t know how to react around these people. So, I seen a crossing guard, across the street. And I said, well, if I go and hit this guy, I can go right back home. But inside, my emotions in side me said no, just give it some time.”
Here’s a short film made in collaboration with Brad. Hope you take something away from it and share it with anyone who may be interested.
“The truth is that none of us have really done this before. And when you accept that, and just do your best, or try your hardest and learn as much as you can, I feel like when you rise to those challenges, it’s very satisfying because you’re constantly at the edge of your competence…”
Quick post from San Francisco; a new Vague Direction People video. Chatting with Matt Mullenweg.
Matt’s the co-founder of WordPress (more here), which is the online publishing platform that powers a huge amount of sites online, but rather than get into anything technical, we discussed the choices he’s made, work life balance, risk taking, and pursuing something you truly believe in.
“I think it’s important to keep things in perspective on the positive and the negative. It’s not the end of the world. Really what perspective is, when you think about the word itself, it is taking a step back.”
Here’s the video snippet – hope you enjoy!
Day 83: Sanderson. Rest day and blog catch up. Not much happening in Sanderson.
Day 84: Sanderson to Marathon (55 miles)
Slow morning getting the bike sorted. Had to replace tube as there was a slow puncture. Nice ride through more desert landscapes. Sanderson is actually the ‘Cactus Capital’ of Texas, and there’s definitely a lot’of’em. Awesome sunset to darkness riding. Totally empty road, and insanely clear sky, to the point where it was more fun to ride in the moonlight than turn on any bike lights. Ended up at a campsite just outside Marathon at about 8pm.
Day 85: Marathon.
Woke up run down, knackered and chesty, so ended up just resting. It definitely seems pretty easy to get sick whilst on the road, nutrition is super important. Plus side was that it was SuperBowl Sunday. The town is pretty small, and the local hotel was where the game was being shown, in a room with a massive buffalo stuck to the wall. Despite local help, the rules are still confusing.
Day 86: Marathon to Alpine (31 miles)
Paul Kranendonk from Rotterdam was pulling into the campsite as I was leaving. He’d set off from San Diego and was heading to Jacksonville, FL. It was his 11th day on the road. 11th! Talk about fast progress. But understandable considering he needs to be back at work at the beginning of March! In 2008 he cycled the Great Divide with his wife (together they’ve clocked up a massive amount of cycle touring experience), and it was interesting to hear his perspective on the difference between solo versus team travelling. Also, a few days ago he was chased by 4 massive dogs and had to sprint for 3km to outrun them. Fair play!
After chatting with Paul, and stocking up at the Grocery store, it was getting late (recurring theme?!), so I ended up in Alpine fairly late after more night riding. Big thanks to Sam at the Highland Inn for sorting out a last minute room – nice spot to rest and see the town if you’re passing through!
Day 87: Alpine to US-90 Rest Area (5 miles)
Wasn’t feeling it again, with more chesty sickness, even after an indoor night. Cruised into the historic part of Alpine (which is super nice – all local stores that have gone unchanged for years). Spent a lot of time reading in the park, and didn’t even try leaving the town until 5.30pm. It’s always tricky to be motivated after such a late start. Ended up calling it a day at a rest stop overlooking some incredibly aesthetic hills. Location definitely has a big impact on general psyche, and this one helped to improve the day.
Day 88: US-90 Rest Area to Valentine (57 miles)
Brrr. Cold night so good to see the sun and it’s warmth. In Louisiana, Glen the cyclist had mentioned that the roads in West Texas are a nightmare when it comes to rolling resitance. For a while I’ve not had a clue what he was on about. The roads in West Texas seem exactly the same as the ones in all the other states. But for the first time what he was talking about became clear. The road was made differently, with big pebbles stuck into the surface, which definitely slowed everything down. It didn’t last long though, because literally at the sign that marked entering a new county, the road became smooth again.
It’s been quite strange cycling through the Texas desert. Many of the towns are dilapidated, but every so often a town in the middle of nowhere will be vibrant and bustling. Passing through Marfa was one of those times. Small town but with a lot of quirky people and a heavy art scene. This was on the way in to town, a lotta’ heavy Q’s (if you look carefully the artist has signed it):
Left Marfa, after a brief stop and explore, and pedalled to Valentine (once again a tiny town where almost everything is boarded up and shut down – quite spooky). I was running out of water, so stopped to attempt to scrounge some from the farmers who were in their yard. Kirkby and Maria owned the roadside farm in Valentine, and had hosted cyclists before. They offered the yard as a place to crash, and I jumped at the chance.
“You can sleep in the shipping container if you like? It’ll be warmer than outside.” After the previous night, anything to escape the cold was amazing.
Day 89: Valentine to Allamoore, via Van Horn (50 miles)
Woke up in the shipping container. (That’s probably not a sentence that gets written much.) Thankfully it was still on the farm and not out at sea. That would have been more challenging.
Day started off great, through deserty-farm land, similar to the last few days really. Got quite hot and dusty from about midday though. Ended up running out of water close to Van Horn, which even for only 15 miles wasn’t too pleasant. Usually it’s never a problem, there’s always somewhere to fill up, but this stretch is quite sparse (if you’re going to be cycling this stretch, make sure you carry more than you think you’ll need).
The railway ran next to the road for most of the day, and a regular sight was seeing the Border Patrol driving their 4×4’s on the dirt track next to the tracks, towing tyres. Anyone know what this is about?
Quite a tough section pulling in to Van Horn. Not because of hills or anything like that, but because you can see Van Horn from miles away, shimmering away in the distance. And you know there’s water and all that goodness, if you can just make it to the shimmering city. But it doesn’t seem to get any closer, no matter how hard you pedal. It was like a mirage for a while, quite bizarre. But eventually Van Horn provided an oasis.
Stayed in Van Horn until quite late, just to get out of the heat for a while. From Van Horn, the way to El Paso is via the Interstate (I10), which is the equivalent to the motorway in the UK (i.e. busy and fast). Started this section at about 9PM, after getting kitted out in everything high-vis. To be honest, the shoulder is so wide that it’s probably safer than the other roads, but nonetheless it has an air of intimidation, especially getting on from a junction.
Cycled for an hour or so, and ended up finding a spot in between the interstate and the road that runs parallel to it. Crazy clear sky, which made it a bit more bearable, as the bivvy spot was a patch of dirt in between some concrete traffic blocks, near the railway, outside a factory.
Day 90: Allamoore to El Paso (106 miles)
El Paso was a fair way off, so I thought an early start was in order to arrive on time. Didn’t quite realise how early. In the haze of last night (first time on Interstate, finding a sleeping spot etc), it slipped my mind, even after seeing the great big sign, that I’d crossed into a new time zone (MST). Alarm set for 5AM. But of course my phone was still showing Central time. It meant an unintentional 4AM start. All good really though, it wasn’t the most luxurious sleeping spot anyway. Here’s a video of late Day 89 and early 90 (I hadn’t realised the time zone mistake at this point):
(Click here if the video doesn’t load in your email browser)
After a few very early, and very dark miles to Sierra Blanca, the sun came up and brought with it a heavy dose of amazing. The longest and fastest downhill of the trip so far. It was top gear for about an hour, full speed ahead. At points you’re going so fast that pedalling doesn’t make a difference, so you can sit back and let gravity do the work. As good as cycling gets. After the initial steepness, it flattened out a little bit but it was never slow. Never a low gear, all the way into El Paso. Without a doubt the most fun riding so far.
Ended up cycling some of this stretch with Arvid from Sweden, who’s a Navy officer that sailed into Florida and has a month off the boat. He’s travelling light, on a road bike, and between motels mainly. His month off is coming to an end in 12 days so he’s trying to make as much progress as possible and will fly back to Florida from wherever he ends up.
Got into El Paso around 3pm after taking a couple of long-ish breaks along the way. Lucky enough to be staying for the next couple of nights at the Hyatt El Paso. It’s quite a different setup to the shipping container!
Day 91: El Paso, TX
Catching up on the blog, and chilling out for the day thanks to the wonderful people at the Hyatt (thanks for your incredible hospitality!). Staying here until Sunday morning and then will head for New Mexico. It’s amazing to take a full day off the bike, and not have to worry about keeping a constant eye on kit. Even though it’s been slow, travelling through the desert and not getting much sleep in the process was definitely quite draining. Stoked to recharge. But blimey, Texas in it’s own right has been an amazing ride, full of unforgettable experiences and incredible people.
For anyone cycling the Southern Tier east to west – you can avoid the interstate for miles if you come off at Allamoore. There’s a quiet road that runs in parallel until Sierra Blanca, about 15 metres away from the I10.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Map of this stretch:
With the holidays upon us & people spending time with their families, the video interviews etc are hard-to-come-by at the moment, but will resume as soon as possible. Here’s another mainly cycling update (images quickly taken from iPhone):
Day 42 – Crawfordville (0 miles)
Ended up having another day off (in the same place as the previous update) to recover from a bout of chesty illness. It was amazing to spend some recovery time catching up on sleep and having shelter indoors.
Day 43 – Crawfordville to Blountstown, FL (55 miles)
Two consecutive days off, and at the tail end of illness. And a corker of a day.
A late start from The Inn at Wildwood, I didn’t get going until 12.15. When you have the opportunity of a decent nights kip,the check out time becomes your go-time. Quick stop for some breakfast and supplies in Crawfordville and time to properly get moving.
As far as the riding, if it had happened at the start of the trip, it’d be exciting. Wonderful long roads through the woods. The truth is though, that I’ve spent days and days on ‘wonderful long roads through the woods’ so I’m looking forward to a change of scenery. No complaints though, it was easy riding, perfect opportunity to plug in to an audio book (Catch 22) and zone out. A moderate headwind and the first of the hills, but none significant. The bike’s bottom bracket is making some horrible crunching noises – don’t think it has a lot of life left in it. Crunch.
Today brought with it another trip-first; a new time-zone. The move from Eastern Standard Time (EST) to Central Standard Time (CST), which it will be for a while now, up until close to El Paso, TX. Such seemingly small signs of progress are great mental boosts.
Scariest moment of the day, without any question, was the bridge between Bristol and Blountstown. Jeez. I’m sure in daylight it’s fine. But at night (it was around 7pm), it’s daunting. There’s no shoulder, the cars are moving fast and there’s a shockingly low wall blocking a huge drop into the river below. I stood at the Bristol end of the bridge for about 5 minutes, just looking at the cars going past and seeing if there were any tricks to the crossing. Really it would be a case of becoming as bright and lit-up as possible and fully sprinting to the other side when there was a decent gap between cars. Bike, don’t screw up now. Nothing like a bit of adrenaline to get your legs spinning fast. Once on the bridge, there was no turning back, but thankfully like most daunting things in the moment it wasn’t too bad. Luckily there weren’t too many cars to deal with, and the lights obviously worked, so good times.
Ended the day at perhaps the nicest stealth camp spot so far, just behind a local Methodist church in the town centre of Blountstown. It didn’t appear all that nice whilst pitching, but in the morning it turned out to be a beautiful riverside spot. A good omen for a new day perhaps?
Day 44 – Bountstown to Fort Walton Beach (102 miles)
Today’s the day. After yesterdays late start, today I was on the road by 9am and raring to go, definitely over the worst of the illness.
In the morning, I’d had the thought that as long as body doesn’t say otherwise, I was going to try to cycle for 12 hours, with minimal breaks. I know it’s not about the mileage, but if the landscape today is similar to that of yesterday, and the holidays are here, so people are spending time with their families, it seems like a perfect time to get the miles in. Plus, day 5’s total of 81 miles hadn’t been topped yet, and it had been over a month, so it would be an interesting experiment.
Pedal pedal pedal. Through the woods. By 3pm – 50 miles. Into light headwind and minimal rolling hills. 4.20pm – 62 miles. Nightfall. Lights On. 9pm – 85 miles. Coffee break and escape from the saddle. 11pm – 102 miles.
Great to finally do a triple-figure day, especially before the hills and winds get too bad (a few people have mentioned travelling from East to West in Texas is going to be awful?!). Although how on earth people like Mark Beaumont manage to do 100+ miles consecutively for months is crazy.
Ended the day, once again stealth camped behind a church, this time in Fort Walton Beach, FL.
Day 45 – 46 – Fort Walton Beach
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day! No cycling here.
Woke up in the tent to the sound of battering rain. Seems to do that a lot in Florida. And sat it out until it became less-heavy at around midday. Christmas Eve meant time to get a motel.
I’m writing this late on Christmas day (day 46) and have spent the day Skypeing the fam back in Blighty, exploring the gulf coast round Fort Walton and eating obscene amounts of food. Tomorrow it begins again.
Seems like a long time ago crossing the GA / FL state line, but now the end of the panhandle is here it means the next report will be from a new state. Happy holidays!
A rough map from the last few days:
Happy Holidays! It’s been quiet on the blog for a few days but there’ll be a new update tomorrow.
For now though, here’s a bit of cycle-related inspiration for your Christmas day: