Tag: touring

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Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews

Anna McNuff’s Epic 50 State Journey

“America is just like the UK, only… bigger, right?”

I’d like to ask you all a favour. If you ever happen to be within earshot of such a comment, please make a beeline for the offending individual (even if it requires a Starsky & Hutch style roll across a car bonnet), cup their face firmly between your hands, lean in and scream “Nooooooooo.” Anna McNuff’s ace new blog.

I first found out about Anna when she set out in solo-mode to cycle all 50 US states in a single trip. It turned out to be – as you’d expect really – a bit of a crazy ride. The mission was clear: to have an epic adventure, encourage kids to get active, and raise valuable funds for a children’s charity committed to giving every child access to games, sport and play.

What was less clear going into it though, was what else it would bring. Spectacular generosity, super sketchy situations involving flipped cars and 911 calls, grizzly’s and moose, and learning about priorities.

She’s recently finished that journey and a few days ago we caught up to find out what the draw was, what went down, and what she learnt from spending 7 months on a bicycle. Let’s go!

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So you’ve just come back from The Big Five-O. What was that all about?

That was an 11,000 mile journey through all 50 states of the US of A. It was just me, a beautiful pink touring bicycle called Boudica and three missions: 1) To have a huge personal adventure, 2) To get local communities and the kids within them active, inspired, and on bikes and 3) To raise as much dosh as I could for a marvellous charity called Right To Play.

Can you briefly describe the rough route?

Sure thing, I’ve got this one down pat now. The first question everyone asks you is always “Where are you headed?” So I had to get a sub fifteen second answer nailed early on. Here goes: I started with a little pedal in Alaska, from there I flew to Seattle, went down the West coast to San Francisco. Across the Nevada desert, into the Grand Canyon, up the Rocky Mountains, into Montana, and across the the North until I hit Maine at the Atlantic coast. Down the East coast, via New York, Baltimore and DC, then into the panhandle of Florida, before doing a dog leg back up the Mississippi to Memphis, then heading across to Dallas, via Kansas. Phew. How did I do?

Amazingly – that’s a crazy long list. How on earth did you plot the best route to hit all the states?

I drank a lot of coffee, ate a lot of Haribo and stayed up many many nights into the early hours. I started with a blank map of the US and put a star at every place I wanted to visit – that was really important to me. Adventures are all about satisfying your own curiosities after all. I checked out the weather averages in each state, for each month, and decided that I needed to go West to East to make it over the Rockies while the passes were open, and North to South, to make it out of the Northern tier states before the snows hit.

That done I got hold of the Adventure Cycling association routes, and followed them as much as I could. That left me with a route that was 16,000 miles long. So I began the soul destroying process of scribbling and hashing out sections to save time, finally arriving at one that I felt was realistic to complete in the timeframe.

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What made you want to do it? What were you doing before? Was there a catalyst?

There wasn’t one particular catalyst, but there was definitely that ‘ah-ha’ moment – which happened one night as I was standing in my living room. I’ve been working as a marketing manager for 5 years and I’d had that suffocating wanderlust feeling creeping up on me for months. I just couldn’t help but feel that what I was doing day in day out wasn’t what I was put on the planet to do. I felt I had more to give, the world I mean. I know that sounds cheesy but it’s true. If we’re not making a meaningful contribution to society, then what exactly are we doing here?! So I just decided, then and there, that I had no ‘real’ excuses and that I was going. Somewhere, anywhere, and probably by bike. It was an incredibly liberating and exciting moment.

Was it anything like you expected?

Yes and no (I’ve always wanted to say that). I thought it would be incredible. I dreamed for a year about that moment I’d wake up and have nothing but 7 months of cycling ahead of me. But it was even better than I’d hoped. I had different challenges to the ones I’d in envisaged. I didn’t get as lonely as I expected, or as tired or frustrated. I hit far more dramatic weather though. And people were far kinder, I mean so beyond kind it was ridiculous. The country was more diverse than I knew. And above all (I know this sounds incredibly blonde), but the USA a lot bigger than I thought. There is so much open space. I think you really need to cross a country like that to appreciate this tiny (wonderful) island we live on.

What was the draw to America – it’s just like the UK but bigger right?

I’m going to start up a swear box for comments like that one from here on in. Joking aside its probably that comment that made me want to go and explore the US. That and having been on a few trips there as a kid. I’d done the usual tourist spots, but I’d often look at a map, see that big ‘ol space in between California and New York City – and realise I had no idea what went on there. As I did a little research I came the conclusion that it’s an incredibly unique place. No where else is the world was there a country that had such a range of culture, religion, politics, wildlife and geology. The bonus being that the language is common too. Definitely a plus if you’re linguistically challenged like me.

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Are you ready for the typical unanswerable question – favourite place and why?

That is an impossible one! Lucky for you I have a top ‘area’ – that would be the South West corner of Utah, and into Arizona. You can do Bryce, Zion and The Grand Canyon National parks within 4 days of each other. Each one is spectacularly unique, and like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’ll seriously blow your mind. For a state-surprise, I’d also pull  out Wisconsin – it’s just so bike friendly. And Alaska and Hawaii have to get a mention too –  for their sheer out-of-this-world, off-the-chart sensational scenery. If you ever want to see Grizzly bears and moose (who doesn’t), they’re guaranteed in Alaska.

Is there a moment of incredible generosity that really stands out?

That would definitely be the 4 days I spent holed up in a ranch in South Dakota. I met this girl as I rode into the town one day. It was a tiny place, just 300 people, up in the boonies. We got to chatting and she invited me to come and stay with her family. Thank goodness she did. A huge blizzard blew in the following day – bringing 4ft of snow in 24 hours. I was stuck fast. They were just the must wonderful, down to Earth family I’ve ever met. The older sister would come in from all day wading through snow drifts, rescuing cows, and begin looking after her elder relatives and making sure I was okay. Me, who’d sat around inside all day doing nothing except babysitting her 18 month old nephew. I’ll be friends with that family for life.

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Was there a time when you were scared or you felt in danger?

This one is right at the front of my brain. I attempted to leave Colorado and got stuck in the middle of their ‘1,000 year flood’. I came across a road that had crumbled away completely, which was frightening enough, but as I turned around a car came down the road toward me. I tried to wave and shout to slow then down, but they actually sped up and flew off the road, and flipped into the river. I had to pull the couple out and call 911. I thought for a moment they were gonners. That shook me up a fair bit for the next few weeks. I’d just never seen anything like it, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to process it.

That sounds awful. Shifting gears a bit – in your new post you say there’s a difference between being lonely and being alone – can you explain?

Absolutely. And ironically, I think you have to have spent a fair amount of time in your own company to know the difference. Being lonely is 100% down to your mind, and the way you feel. It stems from you feeling mentally isolated. Like no one understands you, what you’re trying to achieve or cares about what you’re doing at the moment in time. You feel your life lacks purpose and can’t see how anyone could help you. That’s loneliness in a nutshell for me. Being alone is a physical thing. It’s not having anyone nearby. To be honest I’m a massive fan of the alone time. You’re forced to confront any demons you have and you also learn what makes you happy far quicker than if you constantly seek to distract yourself with other things. By the time I’d finished the stint through the West of the US, I’d had just about enough of being alone, I sought human contact, but I wasn’t necessarily lonely.

Did it happen at all – a time when you experienced loneliness whilst on the road?

Yes, but only a few times. And far less than expected. I wasn’t even lonely on Christmas Day, or New Years Eve, which I think I upset my mum by proudly announcing. I had to explain that I’m not lonely is different from “I don’t miss you” . The days I got lonely were either when something dramatic had happened – like the Colorado accident. Or when I lost sight of what I was actually achieving with the trip. I felt selfish or foolish for indulging myself on this big adventure…. Did it really matter what I did? Was I inspiring anyone? Was I actually doing anything particularly physically difficult? On those days I’d just crave a good old hug. Someone to say – “On you go, chin up chick.” Thankfully they were few and far between – I  probably only had five or so spells of loneliness in the whole 7 months. Most would last a day. The final one lasted a week or so – and that was really just homesickness.

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How did you find the whole “being connected” thing? I know some people think ‘adventure needs isolation’. What positives did being connected bring and what negatives? Did you ever get frustrated with it?

I loved being connected! I cannot imagine doing a trip without it. For me it was such a huge part of the whole mission – to involve as many people as possible in an ‘armchair adventure’. My view on travel in general is that it promotes understanding and diminishes prejudice. Being able to share what you see, hear and experience as and when it happens is huge. If you can plant one small seed that makes someone else want to go off exploring – then it’s mission accomplished. I guess the negatives are that it’s addictive, and you are often thinking about what might be interesting to others – but I’m not even sure that’s a negative really. I’m not sure it’s for everyone, but communicating frequently and with gusto tended to suit my personality.

Why do you think more people don’t do these kind of things? And what would your advice be to those who want to do something similar but haven’t yet?

You have to make it a priority. There’ll always be reasons not to go, of course there will. All that happened for me is that I decided there was nothing more important in my life than the trip. I had a job (they gave me a sabbatical), I have a mortgage (I rented the house), I was broke (I got a second job). Every obstacle can be overcome if you want to go badly enough. And so for those who don’t actually go – I’d wager that the burning desire just isn’t there…. yet. For those thinking about going… Just go! Stop making excuses, make a plan, and go. When have you ever heard someone say “Oh gosh, I really regret going on that enormous adventure.” (Never). More often you hear people saying they wished they’d worked less, and lived more.

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Do you think the journey changed you at all?

The biggest shift has been realising that everything you do is a choice. Yes, sometimes we have to do things to pay bills that we don’t want to do, but it’s always a choice. I’ve realised that everything is a possibility. Nothing is set in stone, and I can always change direction… No one else is going to do it for me. Coming back from the trip into a normal working life has been tough – I’ll not lie on that one. It’s sucked a fair amount on some days. But I’m beyond excited about the rest of this year and the one after that, and after that. Because I know that whatever I wind up doing, whatever path I take – it will be a passionate one. Once you’ve experienced what truly makes you happy, you just can’t pretend it’s not there. It took me 28 years to discover that, and I don’t plan on going back to the old ways.

What happens next?

I’d like to tell you that I’d ‘got it out of my system’ with this one, but that’d be a lie. I’ve opened a gigantic can of worms and the worms have gone AWOL. I’ve come back with a determination to see much more of the UK, so I’ve a host of mini-adventures in planning for 2014. As well as a few in Europe. Then, once the bank balance is… errr… balanced again. I’ll trot off and do another epic in 2015. It won’t be bike bike – I like running, swimming, kayaking, roller blading too… So I’ve got the map out and am currently exploring a few ideas. Whatever it is, it’ll involve a physical challenge, me exploring a place or places I’d really like to learn more about, and above all getting others involved as much as I can.

Sounds mega! Thanks Anna.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

Video: Curling in Winnipeg

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A couple of days ago there was an opportunity to quickly take a return trip from Winnipeg to San Francisco for an event (more on that soon), so there’s not been much route progress since the last post. Tomorrow morning the momentum builds again and it needs to be pretty full on for the next 6 weeks or so. It’s very much autumn now – seems to have switched from ‘kinda autumn’ a couple of weeks back. Really looking forward to hitting the road, it’s perfect for biking at the moment.

Speaking of the weather… Manitoba gets cold. Hopefully it won’t be too brisk for a while yet, but in Winnipeg a cold winter can be more than 40 below celcius. It gets icy, and so like a lot of Canada, ice sports are all the rage, hockey especially. One that doesn’t seem talked about as much is Curling. Turns out Winnipeg is basically the world capital of curling, and the Granite Curling Club, which stretches back to 1880, is known to the Curling Community as the ‘Mother Club’.

Had the chance to visit a few days ago and talk to Lisa, a competitive curler, and Churchy, a hobbiest and also the clubs Ice Maker. Hope you enjoy the video! If you like watching Brits fall on their faces this one’s for you too.

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P.S. In other news, yesterday was the first Vague Direction / Huffington Post collab. The plan is to write a few stories about some of the meetings that have taken place so far, and you can read the first one, about meeting Brad, the cross-country walker, here.

P.P.S. Big up to Bill at the Guest House International in Winnipeg. Stayed here for a couple of nights and it’s an amazing hostel setup with a basement that’s perfect for stashing a bike. He also wrote a book about Canadian Spy, William Stephenson, who is apparently the basis of James Bond!

P.P.P.S. Where’d September go?

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

303 – 313: Lanigan, SK to Portage La Prairie, MB

Some notes from the last week or so.

303: Lanigan

Another morning. Pack up the stuff, load up the bike, get going slowly but surely. One of those mornings where any excuse would do. Resting sounded like a great option. Things often just seem to fall into place and today was another one of those days.

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Whilst cycling past Ross Inn in Lanigan, Tara Ross was doing some work in the yard and we got chatting. She’s one of those people who immediately radiate positivity.  She was the owner of the inn and had free space that night and generously offered a motel room to kip in (first rule of cycle touring is never turn down a bed if it’s offered, specially if you’ve been tenting it for a while).

I interviewed her the next day and the conversation became about how faith is very important in Tara’s family. I’m not a religious person (different strokes for different folks), but have met enough people who are, to know that a higher belief has the power to change lives for the better and in hugely profound ways. That was the case with Tara. One thing for sure is there’s been a ton of generosity during this trip on more than a few occasions that has come from the religious community. There’s not always a bunch of time on the road to edit the footage, so instead of keeping a load on hard-drives I’m going to start posting some very quick uncut sections. There’s not much to them but you’ll get an introduction to the characters along the way. Here’s an uncut section from the Tara interview talking about a part of her belief.

We spoke a lot about how Tara’s belief has changed her life, and how many of the toughest decisions she’s made have become less tough because of that belief. One of the things I struggled with for a while on this project is the fleeting, skim-the-surface nature of some of these heavy-topic conversations. I’d love to (and will) come back in the future and remove the travel element, and just focus on some of these stories. There’s always a battle; do you even talk about the heavy stuff? Because without really knowing someone and really taking the time to explore (i.e. weeks / months rather than days), suddenly jumping into a big subject seems a bit superficial. Perhaps a bit tabloidy and even a bit unethical? Alas, because of the looming visa deadline and all that stuff, I won’t settle on this trip, and over time have become ok with the movement and fleeting nature of some of the conversations. But it’s definitely fuel for future, much more in-depth projects. It was another case of amazing hospitality from Tara and if you’re ever in town do swing by because their place is ace.

 307: Churchbride, SK to Russell, MB

A lot of people have mentioned the mental game in the prairies. It can feel samey but it’s not been too tough. Could be a lucky streak but the weather’s been playing ball, there’s been no rain and the wind’s been literally an amazing boost. The samey nature can mean that often days are uneventful though. You can have 5 day + spells of: wake up, pack up, eat breakfast, cycle, eat lunch, cycle, eat dinner, pitch tent, sleep, repeat.  It’s been a long time since seeing other cyclists – it’s getting a bit late in the season and anyone with any sense probably chooses a more southern trip at this time of year, but in between Churchbridge and Russell, there were two figures in the distance frantically pedalling and quickly getting closer.

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It’s nice meeting other cyclists, and one reason for that is that it makes you aware that there are other people drawn to a similar, seemingly bizarre, mission. Alberto and Fausto are from North East Italy and are cycling from the East of Canada to Alaska, hoping to catch a glimpse of the aurora borealis before the winter arrives in full swing. Best get pedalling chaps ‘cos it’s getting nippy. Super friendly folks who are loving life in the saddle, and you can follow their progress through a blog and video at www.ibou.it.

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 312: Gladstone to Portage La Prairie

It’s been the first time in months and months when it’s been chilly at night. The leaves have begun to fall from the trees and suddenly it’s clear that proper autumn isn’t far away. The mornings are getting frosty and I’m digging out clothing from long lost pannier compartments that haven’t seen the light of day for several months. Hoping the Canadian Winter starts off slowly and holds off for a while longer. It gets to -40C so it’s nothing to take too lightly.

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The general direction of the wind in the prairies is favourable for anyone heading east. There have been days that it felt like cheating – so easy to cycle, because really there’s not much biking involved. It’s more like sailing. Sit down and get pushed across the flats. That’s reversed in the last couple of days and the last couple of days have been brutal in terms of the wind. Cycling straight into it has been unrelenting. It’s hard to go very far and even a small day done feels like an achievement. It also seems to be the way that maintanence of roads is increased the nearer you get to a city. Means the shoulders are gravel and not conducive to moving at pace.

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Super excited for Winnipeg which is just a days ride away. Going to take a couple of days off (to coincide with the incoming rainy streak) to rest the legs, and hoping to film some fun segments over the next few days. Misplaced the LED light a couple of months ago (good job it’s been summer), and haven’t done any night riding since, so am picking up a new light from the always rad Gemini Lights and am stoked to pedal into the night again. Cycling at night seems to generate a different mood entirely, and it seems much easier to get into the zone and bike for longer.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

295 – 302: Lloydminster, AB to Lanigan, SK

First off – a HUGE thank you to everybody who donated and helped spread the word after the last post. Totally blown away, thanks! The game goes on because of you! [If you missed the last post and are able to help out at all, all the details are here.]

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300 days on the road. Nothing like century numbers to make you realise how long it’s been. It’s been a stint of plugging away, making a bit of progress in the prairies, then exploring Saskatoon, then cycling more prairies. It’s been crazy hot – the locals are shocked and say it’s very unusual. It’s not uncommon for the first snow to fall in September so a T-shirt and shorts climate of 27 C+ isn’t a yearly thing. Makes for tiring sweat-ridden days in the saddle, and it’s kind of weird but it seems as though the surface of the road becomes softer and slower. Gloopy tarmac that tries to eat at your tyres. Could just be a placebo effect though.

The approach into Saskatoon definitely was slowed down though – no placebo there. There were road repairs which meant cycling through unset tar, followed by loose gravel and sand. The 20 miles into downtown Saskatoon were so sluggish. It would have been faster to jog as the bike tyres were now a big tarry mess. Saskatoon is an amazing city though. I spent a couple of days exploring and definitely think there’s something about that place that’s appealing. It’s under the radar compared to other Canadian cities and is gritty enough to not feel touristy when downtown, but with a super friendly, young and diverse community to be welcoming. It’s made the ‘one day go back and explore properly’ list.

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Like several people have mentioned, the actual riding is quite samey in terms of landscape. But unlike some reports I’m not finding that to be a bad thing (not yet anyway!) – from Thunder Bay onwards it’s going to get steep again, so for now the flatness is appreciated. The only thing you have to be careful off is drivers throwing apples at you near North Battleford. Just kidding – you just have to be careful of the one driver who does that. Who’d have thought someone who eats fruit would be so aggressive? But it does gives you good practice at flipping the bird.

The prairies make awesome visuals, as the horizon can be so far away. There’s nothing like cycling into the wind all day on the flat plains, having spent the day face down with your eyeballs occasionally looking up for direction, to realise it’s 8pm and a killer sunset has just formed behind you. It’s hard to see how anyone can get bored of the prairies when it’s like this day after day.

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Thought I’d sign out with a quick lesson about all-you-can-eat chicken from day 294.

After the most unsubtle camping session for ages, I woke up in Lloydminster hungry and sore. It was definitely going to be a slow start. The kind of morning where you yawn for the first hour and can barely open your eyelids. But then something great happened, there was a sign, through the blur of half-open eyelids, that read ‘All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet for $10’. Protein – that repairs muscles right? Good for soreness? Unlimited protein? It was on.

I’ve never eaten so much chicken. Unfortunately, upon standing up and leaving the buffet, something was wrong. I’d eaten far too much, and could hardly move. It’s the novelty of something being unlimited. Cue stomach cramps. I kind of figured that maybe it’ll all be ok in an hour or so, and it would be fixed by sitting it out for a while. I sat there for ages, meat sweats dripping down my face, altogether in an uncomfortable and embarrassing way, forehead resting against table.

“Do you think they’ll convince everyone? You know, Obama and Cameron?” 

Talk about a curveball. The chicken greed meant any form of decent communication was impossible, other than through banging my head on the table surface and groaning. It didn’t get better, I didn’t cycle anywhere that day and it was a thoroughly pathetic site.

“Not sure, sorry.”  It was a conversation that didn’t get very far.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

290 – 293: Edmonton to Lloydminster, AB

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Just a quick blog post and images before heading forwards on into Saskatchewan. Hope you enjoy the photos.

Road life’s been going pretty well recently. Leaving Edmonton was super built up and was definitely more precarious than arriving, but darting traffic and getting hit by the gusts from passing trucks keeps you on your toes / pushes you along nicely.  It didn’t take too long to be out of the city and back in the depths of rural farmland, where the fields begin and are consistent throughout the day – green wherever you look, loads of barley fields and the biggest round hay bails you’ve ever seen. It’s often really similar to riding through the countryside back in the UK but without the hills.

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One major positive shift is that it goes dark again, which makes the whole travel part seem a lot more thrilling – obviously it didn’t happen overnight but there’s now a lot of darkness and cooler temperatures from about 8pm. Whilst it means not as much road time, it also means overall quality of sleep and body clock is vastly improved. It’s now possible to be fully recharged after camping rather than just a bit rested, which is awesome and has a big effect throughout the rest of the day. There’s been a lot of stealth camping happening – beside a baseball pitch was probably the best, and now that the stars are on show again the night photography has re-started.

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In a rest stop near Ross Creek, at sunset it looked like a perfect night. The sky was an intense red, but the cloud cover was minimal, until about 3 hours later when the mother of thunder and lightning storms began. It lasted maybe two hours, and offered intense rain and the type of lightning where you can’t pin down where it’s coming from, it’s just happening all around you. It was super dramatic with huge flashes of bright white light and shaky rumbles of thunder, but being in a rest stop there was a bunch of lampposts and trees and all that good stuff so it never felt sketchy. I doubt there’s anyone on earth who could sleep through those roars, so I digged into the RadioLab podcasts (check out the episode – ‘Limits’) and hunkered down with a chocolate spread sandwich. Yep. Happy days. Typical view:

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I’m just writing this post whilst passing through Lloydminster, on the way east. Down the road is the start of a new province, Saskatchewan – it’s crazy really because it didn’t seem like much time was spent in Alberta compared to everywhere else.  Nonetheless, those simple road signs are a great boost and a literal indicator of progress. Onwards to Saskatoon. Intrigued to see what this next province will bring.

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290: Edmonton – Ross Creek
291: Ross Creek – Mannville
292: Mannville – Lloydminster

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

255 – 270: Whitehorse, YT to Fort Nelson, BC

There’s been a lot of road days and momentum since the last trip update, so here’s some highlights from the last 15 days on the road.

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260: Whitehorse

It took about 4 days of being holed up in Whitehorse, focusing on RICE (or more specifically RI). But it worked! Seemed like my knee might be okay again. I was pretty keen that the first day leaving Whitehorse was a light one. Not too much strain and just a test more than anything else. Well that plan was quickly demolished – leaving Whitehorse involves climbing a massively steep hill for a couple of miles. Pedalling started as being cautious – push hard with the left, and quickly spin round with the right – but when it was obvious that the knee issues weren’t a problem, that soon became pushing hard on both legs. It’s an amazing day to be on the road and it was great to be moving. HOT. The mosquitos seem to have changed to dense clouds of midges but move fast enough and they’re not a problem.

261: Nr Jakes Corner

Woke up in a rest stop near Jakes Corner, the tent getting blasted by the sun. Take yesterdays heat and multiply it. Hottest day so far and it’s barely 9am. Woke up to a water bottle that had leaked, and there was nothing for another 70km, so I waited for just a few minutes until a couple of German tourists pulled in to the rest stop in a ginormous RV stocked with plenty of water. Haben sie wasser? Take that GCSE German. Can’t remember being so delighted to see refrigerated water.

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Ride went well. Bursts of wind made for quick patches of cool instant relief. I’ve started using milepost.com, which is a really awesome resource and comes in handy on these remote stretches of roads. Mainly for telling you when gas stations etc are located, but also it tells you about what significance some of the landmarks along the way have. Today involved crossing the Teslin River Bridge, which turns out to be the third longest spanning bridge on the highway. Crossing that river soon led to a stretch of road that traversed the side of Teslin Lake. Kinda reminded me of that phrase ‘Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink’. I had loads of drinking water but by now it was as though it’d been in the microwave – so cycling past this lake brought obvious thoughts – jumping in it. For ages there was nowhere to get close to the water, until a curve in the road brought firsts sight of a pebble beach and a track to the water. Three hours of escaping the midday heat was amazing.

265: Watson Lake

The most unusual day for a while. So it’s been blisteringly hot for a long stretch – since Whitehorse. The blue skies have shown no signs of changing. I left Watson Lake in the morning and the bike was playing up – nothing new there. This time the chain was skipping like a mad person. Think it’s a worn out cassette. Every half stroke and skip, skip, skip. Some adjustments later and three gears were okay. 3 out of 27 isn’t great, but there was enough range in those three gears to cover up, down and flat. Just like a fancy fixie really. In hindsight I’ve been totally naive about this highway when it comes to mechanical stuff – there are no bikeshops. Get a broken bike out here and unless you can fix / bodge it yourself – you won’t have a rideable bike. This is the only section of road where I would recommend carrying ample spares – a tyre, 3-4 tubes, loads of patch kits, a chain, spokes. Oops.

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Ignoring the sudden lack of gears, soon outside Watson Lake is this place called ‘Lucky Lake’ – I wasn’t aware of it, but the sign posts said that it was a ‘recreational community water park’. Well it was hot – so any excuse really. WOAH. This was probably the nicest swimming spot so far. Sandy beach next to a warm and clear lake – with a floating platform about 50 metres out. Lucky. I swam out and dived around a bit, in the scorching sun. An hour or so later, the rumbles began. Big roars of thunder. I hadn’t even noticed but looking up now the sky was DARK. You know just before it storms sometimes it gets weirdly cold? That was happening. There were a few other parties there too – young families on vacation – and all of a sudden after the first roar, everyone was quick to pack up their things and leave in a hurry. I did the same but rather than having an RV to retreat to, figured I’d try to just pedal on before the looming rain began. That was a mistake.

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Less than a kilometer away from ‘Lucky’, the sky opened. And I really mean opened – like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. First started the rain. A few heavy drops on my shoulder initially teased. Then a raging downpour of the biggest rain imaginable. There really was nowhere to hide, so it was mostly a case of hood up, head down, try and get somewhere where there was some kind of shelter. And then the rain turned to MARBLE sized hail. Big chunks of ice falling out of the sky. After about a minute the road was covered – just minutes ago the surface was dry. Now it was white with these blocks of hail covering everything in sight. It was the kind of hail that is amusingly painful – imagine someone constantly prodding you, or someone shooting paintballs at you and you’d be close. And then the lightning started to happen. It happened in Louisiana too – being on the road in the pouring rain whilst there’s lightning. Every time it’s quite a scary experience. About 50 metres to each side of the road is dense forest, but that leaves a 100 metre section of openness in between the trees. A wet human being on a metal bike in that openness probably isn’t a great idea. Your heartbeat definitely gets faster. And then, as though a sign, there was a, erm, sign. Rest stop 1km ahead. A rest stop can sometimes mean just a gravel turnout (i.e. not much better than where I was), but sometimes it can mean a proper reststop with restroom buildings. YES. Two tiny concrete washrooms just about big enough to cram a bike into. And an escape from the craziness outside. (There’s video footage of this happening which I’ll try to edit together soon.)

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267: Laird Hot Springs

Go here. Honestly, if you’re in the area, do it. It’s a bizarre paradise. You arrive and it just looks like an RV park & campsite in the sticks. And then you see the start of the boardwalk. A 5 minute walk later and the boardwalk opens onto a tropical blue pool, with steam floating off the surface. Put your toe in initially and you’d be forgiven for thinking that the other visitors had special heat resistant skin or something, because it does initially feel as though you’re stepping into a kettle. I had a great time here, one of the best days for a long time. There were a bunch of ace characters at the first pool. The second deeper pool was closed off because a griz had booked it out.

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By chance I met Kelen and Yeren from Madrid who had been teaching in Canada for 2 years and were taking one last road trip vacation before heading back to Spain again. It’s easy to see a place and meet people and talk about how friendly and ‘nice’ everyone is, but being honest, the last few towns haven’t been like that – maybe there’s something in the water but in Watson Lake for example, there was about 2 nice people, and the rest that I had dealings with were the opposite of that. Kelen and Yeren had similar experiences in Watson Lake too – a local vs tourist thing maybe. They were super cool and had similar interests, so it was fun just to hang out.

From Laird Hotsprings there has been more mechanical issues including a split rear tyre, bursting tubes (valves ripping right off) and more – it’s been a bit of an epic being on the road over the last fortnight, a fun one mind, but finally in Fort Nelson there was a (semi)bikeshop so maybe the mechanical issues will stay quiet for a while. I’ve never done anything that destroys gear as much as cycle touring – my advice if you’re ever thinking about doing this is to get rugged and decent gear, strength over weight for sure, especially bike parts because it’s hard to avoid putting every single part through a ton of abuse and you need stuff that can stand up to it.

– –

Results of the comp are in. Congrats to Kevin (US), Bastab (India) and Nigel (UK) who won Premium accounts, and Shannon, Keith and Tim who won some funky new T-shirts. Thanks to the wonderful Dora – mayor of Cape Charles, VA & Misslette The Singing Cowgirl from Texas for taking the time to choose.

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

Alaskan Images and Bear Spray Tales

It’s been a ‘refreshing’ (aka soaking wet) morning doing puddle slalom near Willow in Alaska, on the way up through Denali State Park. Hopefully it’ll clear up because there’s not much visibility other than rain clouds. Not got chance to put up an in-depth blog post just yet, so here’s a selection of snaps from the last week or so. They sum up life on the road at the moment.

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Typical sightings on the Alaska Marine Highway.

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Whittier Ferry terminal. Proper Alaska, and noticeably colder.

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Downsized to a Marmot EOS 1P tent. Perfect solo touring tent. Just the right size, super simple & quick to set up, and crazy lightweight.

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Bear spray tales

A hilarious pair called Amanda and Chris were also travelling up the coast on the Alaska Marine Highway, and they had a couple of bear-related tales. Take heed.

Chris (pilot) “I’d just taken off and whilst looking down saw a figure fall to the floor and squirm. I thought they must be having a heart attack. So I banked the plane and landed as quickly as possible. I ran over and it was a guy who was still on the ground. He’d made a mistake and thought bear spray acted in the same way as insect spray. He’d sprayed himself in the face with his can of bear spray!”

Amanda (avid hiker) “We met some other hikers who had been really paranoid about running into bears. They had all the gear – spray and bangers and bells – and set off hiking to find somewhere to camp in the mountains near Anchorage. They were so paranoid about it that they used their bear spray to spray the entire outside of their tent. They didn’t realise that the spray had cayenne pepper in it and were shocked to be woken up by 4 grizzlies licking the outside of the tent for their pepper fix.”

The ferry bit is over, and the game is back on. Best dig out the raincoat.

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

The beginnings of Alaska and thoughts on motivation

Just thinking out loud about motivation and scribbling it down whilst sat on the ferry, back in the USA’s 49th state. At the moment I’m making my way up to a port near Anchorage (just below Denali National Park), on the Alaska Marine Highway. A journey north into the heart of the land of the midnight sun.

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It’s a pretty indirect journey spread over two weeks of travel. I set off from Prince Rupert last week, the ferry then pulled into Wrangell, where I’ve spent the last four days battling the mosquitos. Now it’s a 3 hour journey to Petersburg, then Juneau, and finally Whittier in 10 days time, which marks the next section of the route – the longest one of all – from Alaska across Canada. It’s odd how such seemingly meaningless corners on an map can have such personal meanings.

Looking out from the railings is a thrilling sight. In between small towns, signs of human activity is non-existent, it’s just shimmering green water and dense forest as far as you can see. I’ve yet to see them, but there’s orcas in the drink and grizzlies amongst the trees. It’s an inspiring place to just look upon, reflect on the last several months, and look to the near-future knowing that this is the land that so many adventurous tales have been set in, and it’s clear to see why.

Motivation. When I was nearing the end of the East coast leg, and then again on the Southern states leg, on the hard days, knowing that I’d cycled the whole way meant it was easy to overcome any motivational struggles, because there was a rationale that went something like, ‘Well you’ve come this far, what’s another few days / miles / state lines?’. But on the West Coast leg, taking the bus ride from Northern California to Seattle was like an instant break, and I didn’t feel as attached to it.

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I’m still totally focused on making this a project about the people along the way, and stopping in certain places when it seems right. Otherwise there’s little difference between rocking the exercise bike whilst typing ‘road sign’ into Google. Alaska is one of the places I’ve been most excited about all along, so I’m definitely going to spend time to soak it in, and have a few plans that if they come off will make for interesting and unusual experiences.

But, I know that everything will seem disconnected if the final stretch isn’t done by human power. That may seem a bit ridiculous, and that it really shouldn’t matter, even a contradiction when there’s been writing about constant movement being tough, but there’s a snowball effect attached to de-motivation and it’s something I’m keen to avoid on the biggest stretch of all. Just showing up, getting on with it, and creating a flow does a lot for your psyche, but when that synthesis breaks your motivation can soon follow.

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People keep talking about the prairies in Canada, and how tough they are mentally, even when driving across them. There’s stories of people looking at a mountain in the distance and just driving for days without it getting any bigger. Driving, and being driven crazy by the endless and beautiful-at-first-but-soon-monotonous surroundings. Another cyclist I met in BC couldn’t hack it and jumped on a bus to ‘end the torture inside his head.’ Strong words that can drum up dread in anyone’s moments of insecurity or self-doubt.

There’ll surely be mind-games. You can take your ‘days in a car’ and convert it to ‘weeks on a bike’. But nothing with worth comes easily does it?

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 164 – 175: Fortuna, CA – Seattle, WA – Vancouver, BC.

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.