the midnight miles

The Last Chapter?

2007-11-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

Istanbul is, without a doubt, the biggest city I have ever visted.

I rolled upto what appeared to be the outskirts of its core at about 2:30 pm, 'we are the champions' playing in my head and feeling a bit giddy about the fact that - yes, I had actually done it.

That was two thirty. The freeway rolled on, and on. Signs continued to point forward indicating Istanbul ahead. Then any mention of Istanbul disappeared, replaced by the names of unpronouncable burroughs - no helpful bullseye symbol and corresponding 'center' direction either. I'm there - I must be there. Five lanes of traffic in either direction, moving freeway speed. It starts to rain. I pull off into burrough after burrough, to ask "istanbul?" - I'm pointed further, further every time. It takes me a full TWO HOURS to work through these layers of high density residential and industrial rings of the city, before I find the exit I am looking for (by intuition or chance - I'd like to think intuition). This is my introduction to the city.

Over the next few days I explore. Istanbul is a city of thousands of mosques. Western Europe certainly has its masterpiece churches - Notre Damme, the Segrada Familia, The Duomo... Istanbul has about five or six masterpiece cathedrals (mosques, naturally) within its central core. Stick that in your pulpit and preach it! The blue mosque was, to me, the most impressive - alas, my camera crapped out on me the day I visited; I got two pictures I think.

I rode my bike up the European side of the Bosporous - the legendary waterway that has a choke hold on the Black Sea and saw its beautiful sea wall, billion dollar houses, and the rather impressive suspension bridges that twin the straight. I spent another afternoon touring the length of the massive wall that surrounds the old center of the city (the area that was Constantinople). In some areas it is marked out as a park. In others, the inside of the wall joins seamlessly with peoples homes. In yet others, it provides an open space for farmers who grow produce and sell it right there on the side of the road.

The Markets of Istanbul are noisy, bustling, and packed with anything you could ever want. We had the good fortune to be staying with some really cool couchsurfing hosts who directed us to one of the many REAL baazaars that serve istabul's actual population (this versus the tourist-oriented 'grand bazaar' and spice market located in the old city). We ferried over to Kadikoy to check out this tuesday and friday market where Turks buy their produce, cookware, clothing, scarves, and well, pretty much anything else.

More than the water pipes and backgammon, more than the busy streets and intense, adrenaline fueling traffic, more than the tasty and cheap food, or the living markets, more, even than the overpowering sense of history that this EurAsian city has built into its architecurally diverse and eyecatching structures however, one thing struck me the most. The Turkish people themselves.

I've met friendly people in many countries, and have been the object of (at times, quite irritating) curiosity in others (primarily albania) - but in no other country have these two traits combined in the way they did in istanbul. I was approached many times and in different environments - bars, on the ferry, parks, the street - by local folks who could see I was different and just wanted to talk to me. Nothing more. Generally they were very curious about me, my country, and what I was doing with the bike. Similarly, they were generally quite passionate about communicating their view of turkey to me as an outsider, as many Turks feel that they are being badly misrepresented by the media outside of their country. It was enlightening and incredibly refreshing to meet people like this - completely unafraid of the unknown.

My days in Istanbul were also marked by my chance encounter (they were staying at my CS host's as well) of a different pair of english bikers. These two - andy and tom - are cycling around the entire planet in for aproximately four years. Their attitude to the project really reflected a lot of things that I'd found important as well and we hit it off pretty much immediately. Just when I'd made peace with returning home, I found myself reinvigorated to travel on, and a little jealous when I would watch them start to plan their next leg. It was hell of hard to turn down an offer to ride on with them. I look forward to seeing you two when you make it over to this hemisphere, guys - what you are doing is truly incredible. To anyone who has found reading this blog interesting, I reccomend you visit Tom and Andy's website at http://www.ride-earth.org.uk/. They've even got a really good independent film company producing a video podcast for them with footage they've shot.

Alas, all good things truly do come to an end. I had some fun adventures in Istanbul traffic riding my bike box home from the bike shop where I got it (one hand on the box, one on the bars, shifting gears with my feet while dodging busses. Its the little things that make life worth living). I headed out to the airport by bike and then light rail, catching the last train of the night before spending the hours of midnight until three AM packing my bike in the box and reorganizing my panniers for the plane. 5:30 AM and I said goodbye to turkey and hello to the wierd timeless nowhere zone that is airtravel with layovers.

Then it was home - I got a little misty eyed when I looked out the window and saw the coast mountains. A little more when I saw how many friends had come out to meet me at the airport. We rode home and drank duty free whiskey before I popped in the house to spend some QT with the family. Then out for more celebratory drinking. My adventure was at an end.

Its bittersweet really. I love this place, and it will always be my root home. But there's a part of me that I left out there wandering the world with a bike and a map, and not much else. I know I will be doing this again, and maybe sooner than I think.

When I close my eyes I think of how I've slept in abandonned villages and army barracks, on top of a volcano and under several bridges, at the top of the pyrenees and in a hammock swinging from the deck of a boat on an island off spain.

I've climbed 1800 meter peaks fully loaded, drafted dump trucks through pitch black, unfinished freeway tunnels, portaged venice and survieved the arc de triomph, Albania , and Istanbul en velo. I've lived in a squat in Barcelona and Amsterdam, in a tent, and in a staggering variety of incredibly wonderful, friendly, and trusting peoples personal apartments.

I beat the mountains of Catalunya in July and road the vertical length and entire south coast of France.

I've had Baklava and Ouzo in Greece, pizza and gelato in italy (as well as pasta prepared by 'a real italian granny'), tried beer in belgium, tapas in spain, and the wealth of cheese france and turkey have on offer.

I've had so much sand on me that I literally clogged the drain when I finally found a shower.

And endless other experiences, some small and some life changing...

So - my voyage has reached its last chapter. But has this blog?

I dont think so. I've spent so long writing here that I've become accustomed to it. I intend to keep it open to write about things I find interesting and my continuing involvement with the Vancouver bike movement/culture/scene/community (its none of these things and all of them). Those of you from far and wide who've followed me along, I invite you keep visiting!

(and those of you I've met who's emails I havent answered yet - I'm getting to it! I've only just now begun to feel relaxed!)

now where's that dammned at symbol?

2007-10-20T11:11:00.001-07:00

Another country and another frustratıng keyboard configuratıon...
They actually have TWO 'i' keys here, whıch, untıl I fıgured ıt out led to a frustratıng half hour of me thınkıng that the turkısh government was eıther blockıng certaın sıtes or that some of my passwords had been hacked. Feelıng rather foolısh now.

Woke up wıth the raın today, packed my soggy gear ın the raın, rode ın the raın and some bastardly headwınds (I have, I shıt you not, actually screamed 'damn you Aeoleus!' on several occasıons durıng thıs trıp).

Crossed the border to a couple of surprıses. One was the 45 euro entrance fee (er, Vısa fee, pardon me) that ıs conspıcuously NOT mentıoned on the CDN Foreıgn Affaırs websıte. The other was seeıng brıt bıkers Duncan and John roll through rıght after me. Frankly I was shocked to see them because I should have been mıles ahead. Indeed, I should have been but they boys had cheated a lıttle (traın, taxı) because John was on a mıssıon to see the fınal game of the rugby world cup, and wasn't above kıllıng a grandma or two ıf ıt was necessary ın order to get there. They had 230 kılometers left to Istanbulş and about fıve hours to make the game.(About 20 k on the other sıde of the border, soggıly rıdıng through puddles and a raın-haze, I heard a serıes of honks and looked up ın order to see John's arm extended ın a thumbs up, mane flappıng ın the wınd out of a taxı wındow - the bıkes were crammed and bungeed ınto the trunk). I got so wet on that hıghway that I broke down for the fırst tıme sınce amsterdam and paıd for a room. My tent and a bunch of clothes are hangıng up ın there dryıng out rıght now - ıf I have a dry tent, I can handle campıng two more nıghts even ıf ıt keeps pıssıng on me lıke thıs.

The Turkısh-Greek border ıs the fırst REAL border that I've crossed here. There are no mıld and ınoffensıve guards wıth dorky hats and tıes and maybe a pıstol at theır sıde. There are soldıers. wıth bıg fuckıng guns. everywhere. The actual border lıne ıs ın the mıddle of a brıdge that must be a kılometer long - ıts paınted blue and whıte on the Greek sıde and red and whıte on the turkısh sıde. Both ends are manned by soldıers. Quıte the ımpressıve lıttle scene actually. As I crossed ınto turkey one of the soldıers raısed hıs and and saıd 'welcome!' to me - I felt awesome for about 10 mınutes untıl the vısa ordeal. (I neglected to mentıon that I had already changed all my money ınto turkısh cash by thıs poınt, and had to go chance ıt BACK ınto euros. redıculous.)

Anyway, I'm 200 km from the fınısh lıne and feelıng pretty good. Maybe ıt was that kebab I just ate though...

"The Final Leg" or "The Come Ride This Jerk Home From The Airport Ride"

2007-10-17T01:52:00.001-07:00

Alas, much as thoughts of his own fragile mortality and the ephemerality of life fill the mind of a fly, moments before he impacts the windsheild of a speeding car on the highway, so too, as I approach istanbul, I begin to think of the more mundane details of life to be organized when I get home.

But then that gets boring, so I decided to think about more fun things instead. Like seeing how many of you loveable punks want to bring your bikes out to YVR and ride with me home from the airport?

I've decided for maximum closure to pedal home the last kilometers of my voyage, from Richmond to Vancouver, and I'd love it if some of you would come out and meet me for it! We'll make it good and rowdy.

So arrival details go like this-
Arrive at YVR at 4:30 pm, Monday October 29th (of course, with my passport stamped as it is, it might take me a while to get through the customs roto-rooter)
Flight number is 3EJ7YS.

If you can't make it out for the ride, fear not! I'll probably be putting something together for later in the eve that involves (well, probably actually focusses on) us all getting good and drunk.

Pass it on!

Its all Greek to me...

2007-10-15T15:28:00.000-07:00

Good times in Thessaloniki.

After a couple of rather rainy days stomping about in the mountains of Greece (let me tell you, they have some pretty respectable mountains), we made it to Greece's second biggest city. Adventures seeking an unfinished freeway (and drafing a dumptruck through a 2km tunnel in the pitch dark). Mountain goats. Being above the cloud level. I've eaten about forty Gyros now, cumulatively that is (they seem to form the basis of my diet here), been out on the town, explored the old city, and been taken out for lunch at a legit greek restaurant for good eats and ouzo. We've lucked out on some amazing couchsurf hosts, and been talked into staying an extra day.

From here I ride east to the sea again, and then plan to take a boat over to Samothraki, the northernmost greek island in this neck of the woods, (and aparently 'quite a spiritual place'), before boating back to the coast and riding, solo, my final leg of the trip. Its been a riot riding with duncan and john (they are, i assure you, completely insane. They're carrying a living goldfish from Calais, france, to Hong Kong), but I feel like I need to finish the journey on my own power. Then a week to explore Istanbul before heading home. Its a bit surreal to be this close to my goal; The closer home gets the more real it becomes and the more i miss the little things there... at the same time, the ephemeral nature of my exotic location and freedom loom large. Ah paradox...

Fier and Loathing in Albania.

2007-10-13T04:26:00.000-07:00

It was the worst shit hole I've ever been in.

Well, maybe that's a bit harsh, since we didn't stick around long enough to really find out, but it impacted our senses hard enough that we knew we didn't want to.

Fier is the name of the town - about halfway down the albanian road (there's only one road that runs the lenght of the country). All was going well up to that point - the road out of Tirane to Dures (where we saw an overpriced and undermaintained roman colleseum - one had the impression we were the only ones to visit it in a long time) and south was smooth and fast (of course, continuing to be full of drivers that honk at you every. time. one. passes. you., half built gas station-hotel-bar-restaurants, hand carwashes every 50 meters, and the occasional pile of burning garbage).
Then things started to get worse. the road... well, disappeared. They're in the process of building a new one (and doing a terrible job of it - the new stretches arent properly blocked off and are being ruined by impatient drivers grinding gravel into it) and the old one doesn't even bear mentioning, add to that its over congested . We jumped onto a stretch of unfinished gravel highway and stuck to it happy to be free of cars. As we got closer to Fier, things got worse - the air thickened with a sort of acrid fog and traffic got worse.
We arrived at the edge of town just in time for sunset - we were greated by a black and grey river of sludge, massive piles of burning garbage (the source of the mysterious fog) and a sort of mortal panic. This place felt like one of the gates of hell. We stopped to take a picture or two of the river (it was the worst we'd yet seen), but soon the smoke and darkening sky mingling to create a sort of ominous haze, the traffic and noise, the stench of burning plastic began to get to us. This place felt wrong. We wanted out. A quick conferenece and it was decided to get the hell out as fast as possible, never mind the ruins near the city, nevermind anything just go go go - this is one of the gates of hell.

That was sort of the low peak, but it serves as a bit of a metaphor for how bad things can actually be there. The traffic is bad. The roads are worse (where they exist) - nothing south of Fier is either built or driveable, really. Every. Single. Car. Honks. At. You. As. It. Passes. There is garbage everywhere. Everywhere. I don't think I can over-stress this point. People dump it into rivers or down the side of ravines, and set fire to it. We met a french speaking albanian in a town called Ballsh (right before we witnessed an entire lake that had been covered with a three inch layer of black oil), who rather embarrasedly explained that Albanians just haven't quite developped the culture of putting trash in the bin yet. As if to emphasize his point, moments later one of the children in the crowd who had come to surround us (a regular occurance in Albania. Cute at first, then increasingly annoying) plucked a bit of trash from Duncan's handlebar bag and threw it on the ground, seeming to say 'geez you idiot, don't you know where that goes?'.

I guess I shouldn't be so hard on the place - they are trying. They've just been so badly fucked by history and circumstance. But the ball has certainly been dropped since the conversion from dictatorial 'communism' to 'democratic' capitalism, that's for sure. Its not that there are rotating power outages or that no large supermarkets exist. I can get by in conditions like that just fine. Its more the psychological despare I felt seeing the rivers of fucking garbage, the polluted and toxic environment, the wholehearted embracing of cars (even though they can't afford them), and the fact that they dont seem to fucking care. It hurt, really.

There are advantages to the place of course - its cheap; there are very, very few tourists there; its warm; its not hard to find good food. Gjrocaster, the largest town in the south is actually quite a nice place - clean, green, and with a genuinely charming old town (in contrast to the obsession with concrete boxes that the rest of the country seems to have. Progress!) The problem is that Albania just looks like a twisted vision of the post apocalypse... Again, I'm not being fair. Had I come through on a mountain bike and put some time into getting into real, rural Albania, I'm certain I would have been pleasantly surprised. Urban albaia then - well, be warned.

I crossed the border to Greece with my british companions (Duncan and John for the record) feeling like it couldn't have come too soon. Greece has been wet, and invlolved a surprising amount of mountain climbing - but clean, green, smooth roads... a dream really.

I'm in Thessaloniki now resting for the final leg of my journey - I can't believe there's only 5 or 6 hundred kilometers left...

Oh yeah, new photos up - both from my riding with Tim, and from the last little while..

Here and Here

Talking heads repreive

2007-10-08T06:22:00.000-07:00

Really been on a 'heads kick lately.

Still thinking of Sarajevo; looks like David Byrne was too...

Phototastic

2007-10-02T10:09:00.000-07:00

Wow I'm on the internet a lot these days.

After stopping in Schkoder, the Albanian border city to change money, eat lunch, do the internet, and buy a map (all of which, amazingly, took a fraction of the time they did in Montenegro - says a lot about which is the 'civilized country'), I hit the road again. I had planned to do another 40 k and find somewhere to crash, maybe pay for a cheap hotel for the first time since Amsterdam. Instead I blew the whole distance to Tirane, the Albanian capital, in a shocking 3.5 hours. Over 100 Km. I did, according to my maps, 137 km today - must have something to do with all that mountain riding I've been doing lately! About 20 minutes before hitting the city I stopped for a cola (caffine needed) and met two British cats who are riding london to Hong Kong. And I thought I was hardcore. We made plans to meet up tomorrow and will probably ride some of Albania together. The road from the border here, defying expectations was smooth - and, probably the reason for my incredible speed, completely flat. Inexplicably, everyone here drives Mercedes' ... and not just beat up old deisel ones either, but new looking models. They love to honk, and even more, love to pass one another. I was actually run off the road at one point by some Italian jerk driving a porshe cayanne oncomming. Other than that though, things seem good. The people are very friendly and I get a lot of honks, cheers, whistles, and waves of support - about 800% more than in any other country so far.

Anyway, while I'm waiting to get in touch with my couchsurfing host for the evening (a canadian in albania! who's bike toured the west coast! rad!) I'm finally uploading some photos of the leg from Sarajevo to Albania. Find them HERE.

And in case you are curious, here is my route from Italy to Albania:
Italia:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1361991
Slovenia:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1361995
Croatia:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1362002
Bosnia:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1362010
Montenegro:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1362017
Albania:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1362024

(holding somewhere around 4678km total now)

Albania, yo!

2007-10-02T03:49:00.000-07:00

So here I am in albania.

Pretty much everyone told me not to come here, though, having crossed the border I dont know why.

I left Podgorica yesterday a bit late after running all over town trying to get basic business done after dealing with yet another frustrating sunday. I had one particularly scary episode trying to convert my Bosnian Marks (called, hillariously, the Konvertable Mark). Bank after bank sent me somewhere else - nobody wanted to touch the stuff (literally) - as if it was contagious and handling it would transmit civil war or islam or something to them. The central bank sent me to their affiliate, who's front desk man flat out lied to me (oh yeah, their man called and said that they sent you to the wrong place - yeah, it was a woman who sent me over, bucko). I was starting to sweat a bit because I still had a hundred euros worth of the stuff and that would be a pretty nasty hit to the pocketbook. Finally I found a bank who took them, without even batting an eyelash, and the emergency was off. I had similar fun finding a bike shop (spare parts to carry into supposedly 'postapocalyptic' albania), and a map of albania too. Finally suceeded on the bike parts, but not on the map. Everyone I asked looked at me like I was crazy - why would you want a map of albania?

Hit the road at about 1:30 and was making good time at first. Passed another bike tourer heading the opposite direction and stopped to chat for a bit - she was a Californian looping the former Yugoslav countries. It was nice to compare notes with someone else on the road.

Things slowed up a bit though when I hit the Skadarsko, the large lake that forms a natural border between montenegro and albania. I decided to follow the lakeside road rather than the major road that cuts all the way to the coast. Its marked as a park on my map. I should, of course, know by now that how things look on the map is 95% of the time absolutely nothing what they look like in reality but I learned once again. I was treated to an afternoon of nasty mountain climing on windy one lane roads. The view was indeed spectacular, but the going was slow. Finally, about 45 minutes before the light started to fade I hit this wierd little plateau/ valley between mountains, about 15 km long, andfilled with luch vegetation and flat terrain (versus the rock farm that the previous several hours had been). Counting my blessings I found a hidden and apparently unused farmer's field, and set my camp up just in time for the light to fade and to eat my dinner in the dark.

Up early this morning, and booked off the last few mountin km, before being treated to a long and fast descent to the albanian border.

It reminds me of some of the places I saw in southeast asia - busy, noisy, alittle crazy and not so filled with outsiders. There are lots of cars and scooters, and, yes, horses pulling carts.

This is the email that someone I was lucky enough to get in contact with who is currently doing the same route as me by motorcycle sent me, so you'll have and idea of what's next for me:

I just traveled the road you are discussing for the second time. i travel on a small 200cc motorcycle and i have seen several bicyclist doing so. The road out of montenegro is tricky to find. it is a small backroad, not much traveled and it is fine for a bicycle. the road into montenegro is quite good, as you know, but as you get closer to albania it becomes rutted and in poor repair, but you should not have a problem. From the border to Skhoder the road is acceptable, but busy. As you may know, cars were outlawed in albania by the communists, so they saw little point in investing in infrastructure, but that is now changing. The problem is that Albanians only recently learned how to drive, so you must be careful. As always, stay to the right a smuch as you can and check your mirror frequently for motorists wanting to pass. Albanians toot their horns seemingly at random, and you have to get used to that. The road from the montenegro border to Tirrane is not bad, but it is busy and there is a lot of garbage around, and they burn it and it is pretty disgusting. You wil wonder why you came, but keep the faith.... you wil be rewarded. From Durres southward the road is now excellent. they just built it last year. It is a smoth, fast road. However, as you get closer to Fier they are stil working on the road and it is pitted and rutted. often, due to cinstruction, traffic stacks up so be careful. In Fier, make a right at the traffic circle with the sign that says "Appolonia". you priobably are planningthis already, but it is a very interesting site of an old Roman city. it is about 8km outside the city. the road is pitted and ugly, as are many of the roads in albania. Try not to stop in fier for the night. it is an ugly city and locals tell me it is not very safe. Continuing to Vlore the road is also in poor shape, until you reach Vlore. I stayed at the hotel Pavaresi.. a new hotel that is a little above what I am used to but my 35 euro room was extremenly luxurious. It is at the foot of the main drag, just before you turn south to go out of town. It is next to a restaurant called the Britania. From here your ride wil be very scenic. The road is excellent, having been built last year. it is two lane and very smooth. About 20km out you will reach the tiny town of orikum. There are supposedly ruins there, and there's even a sign that points the way, but after two years of trying I never was able to find them, Now comes the hard part.... right out of Orikim you begin the climb up the Llogarosa pass... a spectacular ride, but not for the faint of heart. The road is excellent, but it is steep and there are many hairpin turns. The area near the top is a national park. At the top comes your reward.... you wil see stunning views of a 12km white sand beach. I cannot recal the name of it and i do not have my map with me right now. it starts with a "P", I think. If you like remote beaches do stop there. Now you wil have a desecent of many kilometers and it is all scenic. At the bottom you wil see a sign marked "Dhermi", 1.5km. This is a great beach area, but although i intended to stop there for a two day stay, I found most places closed. If you walk down the beach 1km through some olive groves there is another great beach. Unfortunately, the great road has only been finished to about 2km or so above Dhermi, then it goes back to the rutted unkept roads for which albania is famous. There are survey crews out there now so they are working on extending it. The next town you come to is Himare, a sleepy little port on a crescent shaped bay. this is where the Ionian meets the Adriatic. it is said that Odysseus harbored his ships here in the 5th century B,C, there is a nice litle hotel called the Hotel Joni.. about 20 euros for a room with the balcony over the sea. Continuing on the road gets worse and is rutted and pitted. there is anice beach a few km out of there called Llaman.... a small stretch of nice beach. Continuing on you come to the fortress of ali pasha, wel worth a visit. be careful not to get lost inside like i did the other day!! There is a nice cove there that is a nice place to camp if that is what you are doing. Continuing on you wil come to a town with a long stretch of undeveloped beach called Queparo. there really isnt a road to the beach... one local questioned why anyone would build such a road... there is nothing to go to but the ocean (it then dawned on me why tourism isnt doing so well here). Next you come to the town of Busho (?), also a good beach. remember.. beaches here are dirty.. no one cleans them like they do in greece and Italy. Eventually you come to sarande, wher I am now. this is worth a few days. Its a great place to rest and the ruins of Butrint are 25km south and wel worth a visit.It is a Roman city that was aresort area for wealthy Romams. the ruins are extensive. If you dont want to ride, there are frequent buses. i shoul;d say that as you get closer to sarande the road has been repaired, but not replaced and it is acceptable,and much better than the other parts, but beware of these crazy albanians who only recently learned to drive and who toot theuir horns seemingly at random.I stay at the hotel delfini.. a nice family place. My 20 euro room is super clean, has a private bath, and a balcony over the sea, only a few meters away. To eat cheaply, there is a Greek taberna on the promenade that sells gyros and meat dishes at very low prices. I am always watching my money. Next comes the road to Greece. that is really rough. if you do not want to stop in sarande, just before you get here, take the turn to the left that says "Gjorkaster".. that will eventually take you to greece. i wil be on that road toimorrow. last year I drive it and it was rutted and pitted and very bad.there is a lot of up and down climbing for you on a bike. There is also a lot of climbing involved. now here is the good news.... when you get to greece the roads are great.. nice and smoooth and very well signed.I hope this helps.
Robert Spano
redding, california USA (in Albania now)

Still cant seem to get my pictures off my memory card, though this is by far the nicest internet cafe I have been in for a while. Seems like the poorer the country the better their internet facilities... perhaps most people dont have it at home?

I'll leave you with something that's been stuck in my head for a couple of days on the road now..

(really, one of the best movies ever)

The Holy Grail of Bike Touring (continued)

2007-09-30T02:45:00.000-07:00

France has been (easily) displaced from the top of my list for europe's most beautiful country.

I'm sitting in a computer shop in montenegro using dial-up(!) internet, so I can't get any pictures of what I saw up yet, but suffice to say southern Bosnia and Northern Montenegro was one of the most spectacular areas I have ever visted - to bike through it was truly the oportunity of a lifetime.

In Bosnia, picture the landscape of BC with desiduous forests (just beginning to change colour) of eastern canada. Massive valleys and rock faces, coated in green and gold trees. As I crossed into montenegro, things got rockier, a little barer, and the mountains rawer - I would liken it to the pyrenees a little, or the canadian sheild on steroids. I chowed down on about 100 km each of the two days it took me to get to Niksic (using american keyboards - funny accents missing), and the second day was a real leg-buster. Climbing all day long, and when not climbing battling headwinds. Next tour I am bringing a bike computer with an altimeter so I know just how many vertical meters I ate - I suspect it was a lot yesterday.

Niksic is your typical country town, one main street that the locals walk up and down and up and down all saturday night. I got drunk with some Montenegran kids who thought I was quite the novelty and fed me free drinks all evening. I've been ordering food having no idea what it is (its either written in cyrillic or is just some crazy word I don't recognize) and I can't seem to explain to anyone that I want to buy a map, and could they please tell me where I could do so. In Spain and Italy, I thought I didn't know the language and had trouble communicating. My experince here makes me feel like I am fluent in both of those languages (indeed, I find myself accidentally reverting to some wierd mixture of the two when I try to communicate). Now I REALLY dont know the language.

I still have both legs after bosnia, and plan to make my way to the sea before entering Albania. That is, assuming I can find a map!

Sarajevo

2007-09-28T01:13:00.001-07:00

Its been a cool couple of days here in sarajevo - both in terms of the weather (I'm in the mountains now... it looks a lot like BC here), and my experience in town.

Couchsurfed with what I believe to be the only biker in Sarajevo, and spent time chilling with her and her friend Igor (another couchsurf host) who grew up 100 km from here and had lots to tell me about the area's history. Ate like a king (turns out food IS cheaper here... and often weighed for price - 1kg = 6$ cdn!)

Ate a sandwich and watched old men play on a giant chess set.

Took a lot of pictures, but started to feel almost dirty doing it - like thier pain is my tourism.

I'm going to visit the history museum, which I'm told is quite a heavy experience, then hit the road through the mountains to Montenegro. Onward and upward - hope my legs are ready for some hardass hillclimbs.

Busses and Bosnia

2007-09-26T10:56:00.001-07:00

Somehow I got the idea in my head that I wanted to go to Sarajevo.

I don't know if it was based on romantic ideas that the name has always conjured, a need to put some true-life basis behind the stories I read and heard in my lectures on inturnational relations, or the hazy images we got on Canadian TV that I still have in my mind of snipers from soviet looking apartment blocks and guns on the hills around dropping shells on the city below that needed some kind of confirmation. Maybe it was just the thought of riding a measly twenty or so kilometers of bosnia (the miniscule leg of coastline it lays claim to on the sea where there is a small gap in Croatia).

One way or another I decided to come. Then, in an admittedly drunken portage episode on my last night chillin with Tim I managed to twist my ankle, and the idea occured to me to take the train to sarajevo and stay a night or two with a couchsurfer - that way I can rest my leg and not worry about lost KM (the dazs until homecoming are rapidlz ticking down, and the Kilometer count remains daunting).

So we go to the train station. Where we're told that the tracks are being worked on and there are no trains from Split. Rats - but not impossible. Tim books a bus to Zagreb with plans to connect to trains taking him to Budapest, I decide to grab a night bus all the waz to sarajevo.

When the bus pulls up at 10 pm, my heart sinks. Its a minibus. Holds maybe 12 people. Definitely not my bike. Unenthusiastic at the process of stealth camping solo with a twisted ankle and in the rain in a large city, I limp back to the ticket office and ask them where is the closest to bosnia I can get by bus that night. They tell me Ploče, halfwaz to dubrovnic, has connecting trains. I wait for the 1:30 bus. When it shows, I ask the driver if he indeed stops at Ploče. Yes. and he'll take my bike. He overcharges me even after I bargain him down.

Midway through the ride I realize we're well beyond Ploče. Fuck - he either didn't stop or didnt call the stop. Not to worry I tell myself, this is better. I'll stay on the bus all night and get some sleep, then take a train from Dubrovnik, better rested, and maybe paying a fraction more.

At the Dubrovnik ticket office i get my next rude surprise. "there's no trains here" the puzzled information office woman tells me. Fuck. Again. I head into town to pick up some food (rude woman overcharges me at a fruit stand, rude girl yells at me - in between sentences in her more-important-than-the-customer phone call) and grab another bus heading, finally, to sarajevo. A couple of large, cold Karlovacos and a sleeping pill left over from when I got really sick riding in spain put me out for most of the ride, save periodic shakings into consciousness when I dutifully present my passport.

I arrive.

Sarajevo is wierd. I was warned by a friend we made in Split - "it's depressing" - and it is a little bit - but somehow still full of life. My face was glued to the window as we slid into the citz - building after building facade still pockmarked with bulletholes, scarred and maybe re-patched with mismatching bricks by shell holes. Its almost unreal. The achitecture reminds me of western-pop images of soviet russia and an arthur erikson wet dream combined. Faded billboards from the 1984 olympics still stand near the bus depot.

On the surface though, things seem normal. Traffic hums away as it does anywhere, save for a complete absence of bicycles. (complete). Boutiques line the streets in the centre, and there is a thriving tourist boutique district near the gorgeous (I would call it the most beautiful thing in the city, actuallz) mosque and courtyards. Everyone still drinks coke, and it costs the same it does in Vancouver or Torino.

Under the surface I discover things are still messed up. This is a city without trust - offering a couple of marks to make a quick local call on someone's cell (a trick that has worked everyhere else I've been) elicits suspicious looks, grunts, and flat out 'no's. I meet a bosnian girl now living in vancouver (who thankfully hooks me up with a cell phone) here to do paperworks and sort out loose ends remaining from pre-war times. She tells me that the system is corrupted enough that she can barely get anyting done. She also tells me that the area around the city is still heavily mined, and completelz unmarked. Freaking scary, because the area she points to is the very same one I'd been scoping to wild camp (hey! what a nice forrest right next to the city!) if my couchsurf plan didn't pan out.

I decide to do a bit of better research on the subject and am informed by our lovely government's website that "Landmines remain a very serious danger, especially outside of Sarajevo. The vast majority of mined areas in Bosnia and Herzegovina are not marked in any way. Visitors should keep to main roads, stay on paved surfaces, avoid abandoned houses, and travel only during daylight hours. Special care should be taken near former confrontation lines. Avoid areas with visible signs of destruction, such as numerous destroyed buildings, which may be mined. The mine threat includes large amounts of unexploded ordnance and discarded ammunition. War relics and unknown items should not be touched and should be reported to local authorities. Visitors should carry a document identifying their blood type."

Well there is a mindfuck. Looks like I'll be asking a lot of people if I can tent on their property, as that warning description pretty much rules out all of my usual haunts. I dont even KNOW my bloodtype.

trust me kids, though, I'll be careful. I love my legs and have absolutely no interest in having them blown off.

See you back home (in one piece) in just over a month!

croatia continues

2007-09-24T06:06:00.000-07:00

We're in Split Croatia now.

Its been a couple of amazing days touring this coast, and I begin to understand why people now call this the 'holy grail of bike touring.' We'll have both of our pictures up on a new flickr (fixed.friction,) and you can see for yourself.

Highlights include:

-2 borders in one day (slovenia and croatia)
-Sleeping in an abandonned boyscout camp during a badass thunderstorm
-The Istrian peninsula, and drinking lots of istra bitter
-cheap half liter beers
-ferry ride and 3 beautiful days on the islands of Cres and Lošinj, with amaying wildcamping oportunities
-Zadar, where we couchsurfed and met some fucking cool kids, also saw the most amazing piece of public art I have ever seen, the Zadar sea organ.

Today Tim (new nickname, Barricade - story coming soon) and I split ways - he rolls back to hungary and I decide if I follow the coast down to Dubrovnik or cut inland to Sarejavo in Bosnia.

Friction touring, fucking loving it.

adresses

2007-09-21T01:43:00.000-07:00

I'm aware that I have been incredibly negligent in the mail department with all of y'all - but I'm planning on sending some stuff out soon. I have a nice collection of postcards amassed from various european countries waiting to send. I just am lacking adresses. So if you want one, email me your addy or leave it on here. You might even get it with a bosnian or croatian stamp!

Italia a duo

2007-09-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

So its been a wild couple of days on the road with the cowboy.

After jetting to Milano, we pushed it north to the edge of the Alps, camping one night near a lake, mounting some mountains for breakfast and lunch the next day, and camping on a second, larger lake the second night. No days under 100 km. We also dropped in on a little bike shop looking for cycle caps and were welcomed like heroes. Trulz the spirit of bikelove is international,; the folks there at Bramati Point wouldnt let us leave without giving us a full team uniform - jersy and shorts, and a discount on some sweet campagnolo hats.

We then pushed it south to Venizia.

Let me warn the bicycle traveler to venice. Don't bring your god dammned bike. Its a beautiful city, though overrun by tourists to the point of feeling like disneyland, but wandering aimlessly between the canals and the tight winding streets is an unreal experience, one magnified by the fact we arrived at night. The downside of course is that every canal is bridged by a steeply arching bridge. Made of stairs. meaning portage. If you have ever portaged a fully loaded touring bike 40 times in 2 hours, you'll understand why I say leave your bike at home. If you haven't, you dont want to. 'the rats nest' is what we started calling the place. We ended the night camping it in a clump of bushes at the farthest end of venice before catching a ferry over to a peninsula that connects to the mainland on the other side of the bay, and riding towards a bike festival that tim had seen a poster for earlier in the week.

We arived at cyclomundi knowing it was a bike festival and nothing else. It turned out to be a touring festival. We rolled in on our loaded bikes and were once again the centre of attention - many photos were taken of us all loaded up, everyone wanted to hear our story, and we were asked to give a brief summary which was translated into italian for the crowd. They fed us, housed us, and treated us like gold. Even better, we got to meet a lot of experienced tourers - cats who had circled the border of europe entirely, had ridden from finland to greece, from italz to japan - we watched a presentation by a woman who had toured the entire world in 8 years.

Even better, we met an italian framebuilder at the festival who told me that he could re-weld the crack that had recently developped in my right seatstay. Stayed an extra day to have the job done and got to check out his sweet factory/workshop full of beautiful frames. Thanks Carlo.

Then eastward once more. Through Trieste and into Slovenia. A couple of truly badass thunderstorms. Then into Croatia. Two borders in one day. We're on the island of Cres now, on the Croatian coast (apparentlz the Holy Grail of bike touring... and so beautiful you believe it) planning our route southward. More dispatches as possible.

(ps, the balkans are pretty chill. No gun toting civil war grudgers so far, just really old ladies who feed us wine when we ask if we can fill up our water bottles)

Italia, meet the east van bike revolution

2007-09-11T06:00:00.000-07:00

Three nights in Torino, and we're off.

Tim and I greet each other as old soldiers who have not seen each other in ages, trading war stories and battle scars.

We're up at a respectable hour monday and set off in the direction of Milano. 129.99 km in the first day, 6.5 hours of riding.

Italia watch out, we're going to tear the asphalt off your roads.

Copout D'azur

2007-09-08T03:30:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'm just going to come out and admit it right off the bat.

I copped out.

I took a train.

Reached the Italian border a few hours after writing my last post and after a careful analysys of

1) what time it was (approx 6 pm)
2) the condition of my legs and my right knee (starting to give me some regular pains)
3) a more careful examination of my real (michelin) map, not the google map (lacking in, specifically, altitudes)

I came to the realization that it would take me no less than 48-72 hours to reach Torino.

Tim was already waiting for me there, and has a deadline to be back in Budapest, and to be perfectly honest - while I absolutely loved both france and spain, I've spent far too long mucking about in this corner of europe and now have only seven weeks to blow through some of the sweetest countryside on the continent - Italy, the Balkans, Greece, and then Turkey. I wish I had an extra two months.

No regrets of course, save that I wont get to add conquering every respectable mountain range in France (got the Massif Central and Pyrenees under the belt, but alas, no Alps. GENUINELY disappointed with myself on this one) two my other two accomplishments in that country (riding the vertical length of the country, and riding the entire south coast).

I'll say this for European trains though - fast, and CHEAP! The three and a half hour 160 (?) km ride cost me a piddling nine euros. Crazy business.

So now its just to link up with Wyatt and begin our Eastward plunge.

More details as they arise!

the two minute update

2007-09-07T04:53:00.000-07:00

I know I've been terrible on this thing of late, so I thought I'd throw down a couple of details as I stop in Nice here for a few minutes to rest my legs and gather supplies.

I'm heading North from here, through the alps to meet up with fellow East Van bike missionary Tim Wyatt (check the link bar to the right for his blog).

Spent a lovely week in Marseille exploring the city by bike (I'll flat out admit respect for any regular biker in Marseille; by far the least bike friendly and traffic mad city I've seen yet). Its large, throbbing, dirty and alive - Marseille that is. Whoever it was that described it to me as the Vancouver of France has a very dfferent picture of Van than I do. I would say that it is the L.A. of France - whether this country has a Vancouver, I've yet to find out.

Spent some time with two quite awesome and amazing couchsurfing hosts who took me out with their friends, fed me well, and made me feel like a long lost friend.

Got food poisoning from a Snack stand, and am only now recovering my appetite. 200 KM in 2.2 days on a mostly empty stomach: grueling.

Its sunny and beautiful on the Cote D'Azure - a pitty its marred, like virtually any european coastlie I've seen, by an abundance of busy highways and overfilled, over priced, pleasure boat and tourist infested beach towns. I'm looking forward to the balkan coast in the hopes that there will be less people and more natural beauty. Go go Canadian nature-snobbism!

Anyhow, gotta hi the road here again as I have 170 or so km between wyatt and me, including some litte montain range they call the alps or somehing, and I'd like to be in Tornio by tomorrow night. Guess I should hit the road!

Love y'all, and I hope to EVENTUALLY recap some of the road between barcelona and here.

PS - special notice to the B:C:Clettes - caught your LA performance on the Project B blogsite... You ladies are looking hot as ever, and MY GOD have you raised the bar with the moves! Massive respect, and congrats on your successful tour!

Mini Bike Army, rollin strong in Vancouver

2007-09-02T06:24:00.000-07:00

So those of you back on the homefront know I love my mini bikes, and a few of you out on the road here have heard about my membership in the bone shaking heart breaking silly yet somehow still sexy miniature bicycle breakdance burlesque crew 'Brakes.'

Well if that kind of thing cranks your chain, here's some more minibike and bike/dance action comming up - an end of summer ride hosted by Vancouver's own Minibike Army, and a welcome home from their successful westcoast tour for the lovely and talented (and Brakes inspiring) B.C.Clettes!

Dispatch from Mini Bike Army Headquarters:

Monday September 3, 2007 it's the Back to School Special and the Welcome Home B:C:Clettes Mini Bike Army Ride. It may be a long title but that's half the fun.

Mini Bike Army invites you to ride mini bikes (or whatever bike you have) on a holiday Monday afternoon ride. Meet at noon at the Science World Gazebo, ride at 12:30 to downtown, to the beaches, down Robson for some exposure, probably for food since mini bike riding takes a bit of energy... and perhaps some other special treat? Yes, it's probably the last opportunity for a mini bike Monday with nice weather. Don't hesitate, just ride.

Welcome home the B:C:Clettes from their westcoast tour with some bike love. Depending on how tired/busy the B:C:Clettes are, could they surprise us with a special performance? Doubtful, but if we entice them with beer, perhaps? We'll see who shows up I suppose.

minibikearmy.blogspot.com

And Another

2007-09-01T03:13:00.000-07:00

Batch of photos goes up...

CHECK 'EM HERE

Chipping away at the backlog

2007-08-30T12:22:00.001-07:00

Okay so I'm here at a stable computer for a while, so I can start to chip away at all the internet stuff I have to do. As you've no doubt noticed, the promised 'what I've been up to' post never materialized 'tomorrow' as promised. Well, c'st la vie. You're not going to get it tonight either. What you will get is:

-My latest route on Gmaps

-New Photos on Flickr (only some, as I've hit my limit for the month. I'll add more in a couple of days when its September.

-Some Bonus Videos!

First, standing on a bridge that crosses an inlet connecting a massive 'etang' (don't know the english word, but a lake-like body of water with mixed salt and fresh water)

And then, the Pyrenees where they meet the sea

Just getting all that crap and a couple of emails done took me all evening though, and I spent the day riding 100 km in wind, so strong at points, that I had to shift onto the granny (easiest) ring to go DOWN hill. So I'm tired and thats all ye gets from me. Now off to drink heinekn and watch poorly dubbed french TV.

Missin' you jerks as always.;;

Roadmap

2007-08-26T11:54:00.000-07:00

Latest Gmap route, Everything from Toulouse to Montpellier. I suggest zooming out to get an overall perspective. I did the math to subtract the distance travelled by ferries, and from Toulouse to Montpellier have put down an aditional 1307 km, give or take a few. I'll add that to the former total but I think I must be near 3000 by now.

More tomorrow- like on what I've been doing and stuff.

Solo Formentara

2007-08-16T03:29:00.000-07:00

On Ibiza right now, paying for overpriced internet while killing time; my ferry to Barcalona is delayed and wont get me back until after midnight. In the mean time, here are some highlights of ten days on Formentara, sunning it up and sitting in on Ian's amazing project. I've got lots to say about the Halve Maan (mostly about how awesome it is) but I'll save it for Barca where net access is reasonably priced.

The Barca Triangle

2007-08-09T10:30:00.000-07:00

I opened the door to find myself facing a squad of riot police in full combat gear. Some had sledgehammers and one had a battering ram.

I blinked a couple of times.

They blinked a couple of times.

I gather it normally doesnt go like this.

Recovering slightly from the shock, I tried to close the door, but was no match for a bunch of police. They kicked it back in and pushed me against the wall as they filed in, a real life and more ominous pack of stormtroopers fanning throught the building.

Sagrera, the four-house squat, home to about 15 people, and my temporary lodgings, was being evicted.

I was in full kit, leading my bike out the door when it happened. I'd planned on getting up early to hit the road and head south to valencia. As such I'd cracked the door just when the police were about to start bashing it in. It was july 31st, the last day they could do it before the justice system shut down for the august break (ah, spain). They lucked out and I did all the work for them. One by one they found sagrera's residents sleeping unaware (again, the luck provided by a silent entry), corralled us all towards the front of the house, took passports, and gave everyone about 2 minutes to gather their things before tossing us into the street.

I felt shitty for being the doorman.

The Sagrerans, no doubt, felt shittier. Their home was gone.

This was my exit from Barcelona. I'd tried to leave the day before but was tempted by offeres of a cava bar that serves tasty sandwiches and cheap bubbly by the bottle, as well as an afternoon of box wine in the ocean. Couldn't leave. The kids laughed at me joking about how it was funny to witness yet another get stuck in barcelona. Its rather easy I gather, and I wouldn't have been the first soul swallowed.

It really is a city that doesn't sleep. Dinner really does start around 10 oclock, and everything else follows that. Revellers - locals and the tourist swarm that continues to grow unabated every year - gather in the streets until the sun comes up, only broken up when the city crews come through with their trucks and spray the streets down nightly, wetting the decent places to sit and (thankfully) washing the ubiquitous streams of urine away in anticipation of tomorrows scorching heat.

Its hot - really hot - and the daily siesta (2-5 pm) makes getting practical things done difficult. Moreso, however, the laidback lifestyle and the way that the spanish days seem to slip into darkness before you notice makes getting practical things done difficult. I failed at my two main missions - shortening the stem on my bike (starting to get really nervous about carpal tunnel), and finding white gas for my stove. Not that I didn't try, but neither product seems to available in BCN. The language barrier was probably holding me back too.

I lucked out in hooking Sagrera up as a place to stay. A friend I'd met in Amsterdam had given me the name of a couple of her friends and slightly sketchty directions to their squat. Look them up if you're in Barca she told me. After a couple of nights of couchsurfing, and the failure to find another couch, and a night on a Barca Bench I went searching.

I'm a friend of Amanda's I said, to a couple of skeptical looks. Apparently when they heard 'Simon' was there asking for a place to stay, they'd thought I was someone else, a less welcome guest. I was told I could stay, and after a couple of days had made a house full of friends.

Connecting with the sagrera clan made BCN come alive for me. I talked a lot of political theory and refined some of my ideas and ideals; I lived in an alternative social space with a high degree of political awareness and came a step closer to harmonizing those ideals with actions, towards praxis.

Stopped for one week and stayed for three. Hitting the beach. Hooning it up in Barca's steady but rather laid back traffic. Taking a four day camping trip with new friends up near the french border - waterfall, swimming hole, campfire, wandering cows, and all. drinking box wine on the terrace till late in the warm summer air.

I'm sitting in an internet cafe on the Island of Formentara right now visiting one of my oldest and best friends - Its a wierd place, an Italian vaction colony and the refuge of the super rich yachtees who want somewhere more exclusive than Ibiza to park their floating hotels. But more on that later.

Next stop is a quick tour back through Barca, then up the Costa Brava, across the French border and eastwards. More from the road.

invisible

2007-07-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

Well now - I realize I've dropped off the face of the earth for a while now; don't worry, it just means I'm having fun. Barcelona has a way of swallowing you up whole, and I have met a lot of people living here who 'just stopped for a week or two' - a few months or years ago.

I'm out of here tomorrow to start heading south to Valencia. From there I'm taking a ferry over to Ibiza (where I plan to spend as absolutely little time as possible) and a connecting boat to Formentara where my long time friend Ian lives on a pirate ship. Beaches and bbqs anticipated.

Expect more details when the fever of barca wears off and I get back into road mentality.

Aqui Bici

2007-07-16T05:19:00.000-07:00

Fiets
Velo
Bici

New words at every stop for the bike. I love particularly how Bici sounds, being a BC boy myself.

Anyhow, not lots of net time here, but I managed to squeeze a few new photos up onto flickr (check the link under the map to the right). Slow to upload so maybe I can find a faster connection elsewhere and put some new ones up? Also maxed out my flickr space for the month so I'm going to start putting photos on the old midnight mass flickr site, www.flickr.com/

oh yeah, barca rocks.

Homage to Catalonia

2007-07-09T05:40:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here in Barcelona, dirty, smelly, and hands completely black from patching the flat tire I got about 20 minutes out of town. I'm swearing inwardly at having to learn yet ANOTHER keyboard. Feeling pretty super about the last couple of days though.

Where to start. I left Toulouse late, waiting for rain to subside and enjoying the company of the couchsurfers I visted so much that it was hard to leave. Eventually I loaded leuze up and hit the road after buying some new sunglasses and gloves, both of which items Toulouse had eaten. It was warm and sunny, and my brakes worked PROPERLY (and I mean, damn good!) for the first time since Rex died (a good thing it turned out). I stopped for dinner and caught myself smiling - I realized I was having realy fun again.

The trip from Toulouse to Saint Gaudin was nothing special - more rural farmland and pretty pastoral countryside. Anticipating scarcity in the days ahead I stopped at a supermarket and loaded up with food for the next couple of days, and then turned in towards, and then past Bagniers de Luchon, the town at the mouth of the Col de Portillon and Catalonia beyond. Think whistler village; expensive, touristy and boring. I spent my second night out camped half way up the mountain next to a bubbling brook and sleeping uneasily because I hadn´t bothered to hang my food and word on the street is that there are still bears in the pyrenees. I mean word on the street literally, as there seems to be a local debate over culling the bears going on in the area - spraypainted on the road at various intervals were 'non a l'ours' and 'oui a l'ours!'

So the pyrenees. These are some fucking mountains. The Massif central region of france was beautiful, and I'd never seen anything like those volcanos - but even there at the highest peak (higher, incedentally than I ended up climbing in the pyrenees) was a part of gentle rolling mountains. The Pyrenees don't fuck around. They are steep, jagged things - the bare bones of the world exposed for all to see. One of the rawest peieces of natur Í've ever seen, and you're hearing that from a BC boy here.

I woke up early the next morning and finished the climb to the col de Portillon (yeah, I cheated and did it over 2 days. Partly it was just the way things worked out, me rolling up at 6 pm the first night and all, needing somewhere natural to camp - but also, hey, that road was HELL OF STEEP). Altitude: 1293M. And then the decent. Oh my, oh my. Pretty much a half an hour of breakneck speed down switchback after switchback. The grin was plastered to my face. REALLY having fun now. Glad those brakes work like new.

Suddenly I'm in Spain. Painfully aware that the facility that I had in France, as a french speaker (however awkward my phrasing at times) had now evaporated. I was for all intents and purposes now a mute.

That wasn't the only sudden change - the pyrenees really are a natural border; as soon as you cross, you KNOW you are in a different country. The climate is completely different. Gone the wet lushness of france (even southern france seems 'wet and lush' compared to Spain), and thankfully with it that species of orange french slug that found a way to get in all my shit every night. Suddenly everything is arrid, dry pine trees and brown landscapes. I realize why the spanish took so well to Mexico and California - it must have been just like an extension of home.

I´ll let you in on a little secret - Catalonia, for all intents and purposes, is really just an extensio/ the foothills of the Pyrenees. On the french side there is one slope up to the top, and thats it for the mountains. In Catalonia they extend for kilometers and kilometers. I hitched a ride through a five KM tunnel (took almost 2 hrs to get picked up) that bored right through a mountain that must have a 2500 M peak. All downhill on the other side too, until I found a abandonned town on a penisnula overlooking a beautiful but artificial lake. The town had been cleared out and the land now belongs to the hydro company; the lake is catchment for their dam. Picturesque ruins. I stopped and made use of the lake to swim, wash some clothes, and cook. Then set my tent up on a cliff part overlooking the lake. Thankfully hidden away a bit as a suspicious hydro employee turned up (must have seen me poking about, taking pictures and whatnot) but was too lazy to get out of his jeep and really look around.

The next couple of days involved me challenging myself by taking on mountain after mountain. Like BC, this region is pretty much nothing but mountains and valleys. For some reason, rather than follow logic and trace the valleys with their highways, the Catalonians have opted to paint their roads up and down the spines of these beasts. Lesson: the harder, hotter, more brutally painful the climb, the longer, more winding, more thrilling the descent. I think I had one drop that went for 19 km and lost 7 or 800 meters. My maps are maked with a > symbol designating Hard Climb - usually averaging 8-15 km, often with a grade over 6 percent. Coming from a snowboard background I call them black diamonds. >> are double black diamonds, though I only ever tackled one of those at the Puy de Mary. I´ve been averaging two black diamonds a day. My legs hate me.

The murderous murderous sun.

Potable water is scarce.

The landscape is beautiful though, the skies are constantly blue and the roads sparkle.

Did I mention the murderous sun?

Unlike in France where there are cute little departmental roads that take you from small town to small town, catalonia seems to be connected by a limited network of highways (probably because of all the dammned mountains), so I am confined to car country a lot of the time. I get occasional and encouraging honks from passing motorists, along with a lot of incredulous stares.

Who would be stupid enough to bike through Spain in July?

The motorcyclists seem to like me particularly, and I think we share a kinship as to perspective on the road. I admit to being jelous of them, as that effortless power would make the flats, and moreover, the ascents on these delicious winding blacktops just as thrilling as the descents. Must get hot under all of that leather though.

I rolled into Barcelona around 1 oclock here and now need to get in touch with the couchsurfer I'll be staying with. My friend Earl (met about this time last year though bike love in portland - the movement never ceases to provide) emailed me from amsterdam and said he knows some squatters here too, so mayhap I'll luck out there too - I'd like to spend some time exploring the city and resting my brutalized body. I now have absolute confidence in my body and my ability to be self sufficient. Its nice.

Miss you guys and miss the sea - perhaps next task is getting down to the med and kissing the sand; its been forever since I´ve seen ocean.

Pics, as always, to come when they can. More spectacular than usual I think.

What exactly IS that thing attached to your bike?

2007-07-04T01:51:00.000-07:00

I get this question pretty much more than any other (sometimes more than 'where are you from').

Its a mallet. For bike polo. Thats right, I'm wandering Europe looking for bike polo (amongst other things, of course). I got to play with some pros in paris, but I'll leave that story till I get around to my 'Paris post.'

Theres recently been lots of good press and info popping up on the web about the hometown club I helped found and am getting a little despondent about leaving behind. I know they're all going to thrash me when I get back after a summer of slack, while they have all been playing thrice a week.

Anyway, if you are reading this blog and are curious about what that mallet is for, I give you East Van Bike Polo!

Watch it in video Here
or read about it in the Globe and Mail

I'mm finally about to leave Toulouse after an unexpectedly long, but quite pleasant stay. Three couches surfed and some good new people met. My body and bike are both thanking me for stopping. Next stop, Espania - anyone reading have any kind of spanish bike vocabulary they'd care to pass along?

Comments

2007-07-02T09:35:00.000-07:00

I've changed the settings on this blog so that anyone can comment (eg, those without a google account) - I hadn't realized it was set up so that comments were locked.

Anyway, feel free to comment away - but please attach a name so I know who I'm reading!

Still in Toulouse for a THIRD night (thanks to the awesomeness of France and its 'why on earth would we open our shops on Monday' mentality) - I did find a mechanic who seemed both friendly AND trustworthy (surely a first over here. I miss OCB really, really bad. I also miss having LCBs where you personally know the Wrench) to sort my brakes out tomorrow though.

While I'm itching to get moving, I think both my legs and my numb hand, after 10 straight days of hard KM are thanking me for the break...

Nothing Toulose

2007-07-01T06:17:00.000-07:00

I showed up in Tolouse last night dusty and grimy from an aproximately 100km ride in on a 'piste cyclable' along the canal that turned out to only be moderately cyclable. The girl from Couchsurfing.com who I was going to stay with's cel phone had run out of juice, and I was stuck, wanting a bed and shower pretty bad. Thankfully my account on warmshowers.net (like couchsurfing, but specifically for touring cyclists) had started to work again, and so I took a chance and phoned someone (rather rudly) at 9:30 asking for a place to stay - I had nothing to lose.

Thankfully Remi turned out to be a really cool guy. He was just about to go out with some friends but came and met me and gave me a few minutes to shower before taking me out with them to see a bit of the town. He's off to Ireland for a 3 week bike trip this thursday and i wish him good luck.

So what have I been up to for the last week or so? Riding through easily the most beautiful part of France I've yet seen. Cantal and Le Lot, two departments that are within the massive central were my running ground, and they reminded me (to the point of homesickness at times) of British Columbia. Rushing rivers, raw rock faces, lonely traintracks along the side of empty, winding, tree lined highways; it was like the BC of my youth and imagination. There are a lot of hours for thinking when you alone on the bike and riding through this area reminded me very strongly that I need to explore my home province in detail some more when I get back. I began to feel very nostalgic for the place that I remember and that I fear won't exist in the sqme way for much longer. 80s era brown painted log ranger cabins and BC parks: home. Ah nostalgia. Of course, there were some things in this region I've never seen befgore - like the volcanic peaks of the regional Parc Des Volcans. I made it my goal to conquer one of these beasts, and so I spent a morning huffing it up one of the most beautiful roads I've ever seen surrounded by green rolling ridges and valleys to a 1588 M pass, 200meters shy of the Puy de Mary, which was only accessible by foot. I don't really knoz how to describe what I saw save to say that it was like the photos I've seen of Hawaii, but stretching for miles in every direction and with cattle and cute little European villages scattered about. Perhaps a little like I imagine Argentina to be. I sat there listening to american tourist girls complain about how they didn't like thier sandwiches before piling back into their tourbus. Had a shot of whiskey while feeling superior for earning my view, then dropping back down to a reasonable altiude to make a 95 km day. If I ever come back to france it will be to this region to spend some serious time looking around; to anyone coming this way by bike, look at my Gmap for day 2/3, and ENSURE that you hit those routes. Its non negotiable.

I'm going to stay an extra day in Tolouse here to look around a bit and because all the bike shops are closed (yay sunday) - I need a shorter stem (persistant hand numbness is worrying me) and while my brakes have improved enough to be safe in normal conditions, I think I'm willing to pay a bit more to try and get them tip-top before taking on the pyrenees. Tomorrow I'll ride south to try and pass through the Col de Portillion, and then down through catalonia to Barcelona. Probably no email until then, so you'll have to wait for more updates.

Oh yeay, PS - NEW PHOTOS UP!
(like this one of the Brakes 2007 world tour)

Email

2007-06-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

If you haven't been getting email from me...

DON'T WORRY. Its because I haven't been sending any. I hate mass emails and this blog pretty much fills that purpose anyway. If you want personal emails from me, send me one and I'll do my best to reply (internet is a bit expensive and hard to find outside of the cities here).

Just arrived in Tolouse, and too pooped to blog. It was probably 40 degrees today. Here's my route from Clermont-Ferrand:

Day 1 (day of last blog entry)
Day 2
Day 3 (note me conquerring a 1588 M volcano here)
Day 4
Day 5 (today)

I'll try and write some more tomorrow before I split town, but for now finding food and shower is priority!!!

Mountaineater

2007-06-26T04:12:00.000-07:00

I'm in Claremont right now, and upon logging in I've just realized the last post I wrote (the one below) didn't publish for some reason. Put it up now.

Since Bourges things have gotten better - I'm back in the riding rythm and basically covered the entire distance from just outside montlucon to just shy of claremont in one day - thats a solid 80k, loaded, all in the mountains. I felt pretty badass putting in a day like that and stopping early-ish with enough time to find a good spot, cook, and set up camp all while it was still light. I Got up this morning with the intention of riding to the top of the puy de dome, a 1400M volcano, but when I got there they told me bikes were only alowed on fro, 7-9 am, while it was closed to cars. Lame. Istead I dropped into CLaremont which was about 15 km all at a 10 percent grade. Thrilling and a bit scary, as I'm still having a bit of brake trouble - CLaremont is a large enough city so after this I'm off to seek out a decent mechanic. My route next takes me southwest through more volcano territory. Should be good training for the legs and spectacular scenery.

The people int he mountains up here seem to think I am completely insane - I think it is beyond a lot of their comprehension that someone could arrive here on a bicycle - one loaded with gear to boot. This is a bit funny to me, since the title 'massif central' seems to speak more to the french tendency towards self agrandizement than a description of the mountain range. 'Rolling foothils central' would perhaps be more apropriate. Don't get me wrong, it IS hard work pushing throuh here, but comming from BC I would hesitate to call it 'massive.' For a little perspective: the Puy de Dome - one of the tallest mountains in the area is 1400 M. The Lions, part of the coast mountain range that overlook vancouer are 1600 M. Blackcomb Mountain is somewhere in the range of 2200 M. Again, don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming I could (or would even want to) ride up blackcomb - I'm just saying 'masive' is perhaps a relative term.

Anyway, HERE is my last two days, if you are curious. More details down the road, maybe when I get to Tolouse (havent decided on a route yet).

(ps, I'm at a total of 1058km, not counting the day rex got stolen which I havent Gmapped - I suspect it is an aditional 50-60km)

(edited for accuracy - my original statement regarding blackcombs hight was overly large, owing to a confusion between feet and meters. There are no 7000 meter mountains in Canada...)

Luck and the Loire

2007-06-23T09:22:00.000-07:00

It was raining when I got up this morning, as it was for the last couple of days. I've had some luck since I decided to ride the loire valley, a lot of it bad. I even started composing a blues song to myself (one of the ways to pass time on the road is to sing in your head, and occasionally out loud) with the chorus 'if it wasn't for bad bike luck, lord I'd have no luck at all.'

Bad Luck:

As has been the case virtually everywhere, getting out of a large city proved to be a pain in the ass. Paris was the worst yet though - the god dammned thing is enormous, qnd it was essentially one full day of riding before I got out of Burbanity. Then it started raining. The ultralight '2 person' (hah!) thent I bought turned out to have no fly, nor any ventilation. You're wet whether its raining or not. It rained, a lot. Then there were the headwinds in the loire valley itself. Nasty, nasty business for two straight days. If this weren't bad enough, my bottom bracket (for you non-geeks out there, thats the little axle that connects your pedal cranks together) started to work itself loose (WTF!). I decided that hell for bad bikers is a place with a slight but eternal incline, headwinds of 25k an hour, and wobbly cranks. The mechanics in the valley were unwilling to lend me tools, nor were their rates reasonable - an unfortunate side effect of choosing to ride in one of the more popular destionations of earth to tour (here, the 'tourers' are more like 'tourists' in the traditional sense). Then I got a flat, caused by a ruptured valve stem - unpatchable, and I discovered that my spare tube was one of the things that dissapeared when tout mes affairs had been jacked. Low blood sugar day. Low point in general. long walk uphill. Today was a gauntlet ride to bourges with a stop every 5 km _hand tightent_ my BB, with a nagging fear that the bike itself was permanent scrap.

Good Luck:
Of course, I'm making it sound like this is some kind of nightmare, which its not. Its just been a couple of frustrating days. Good luck found me too.

When I hit orleans my first stop was Decathlon - the sports outlet where I'd bought my tent. They let me exchange my (soggy) tent no questions asked for a cheaper, eaually light and similarly (and this time honest about its one-man-nes) sized tent. It is not neon green, and hence useless for stealth camping, it has a decent fly, and the tent itself is essentially a giant bugnet with a frame - I'm quite fond of it. I dropped into the tourist info center to pick up some literature on the loire valley by bike. Maps in hand I spend the day yes, fighting the wind, but in magnificent scenery. Castle upon castle (slowly) slid by. I arrived in Blois just around 7 oclock at night only to discover that the whole town was rampin gup for the all night party that is 'La Fete de la Music,' a national holiday that takes place on the solstice and has free music on stages all over town in every city in france. Its an idea we should consider adopting. I saw some really good music, got my dance on, and eventually rolled into the forrest at 2 am, in the dark, to set up my new tent for the first time. It went pretty well. My flat tire turned out not to be a complete disaster in the end, as eventually a pack of british cyclists on a 14 day tour spotted me and stopped to give aid (typical in these parts - it takes a foreigner to offer you help in France). I made it to the castle at chernonceau that afternoon, and rather than pay 10 euros to see the dammned thing, found a sneaky workaround by riding 2km up the road, crossing the river, and rolling back along a back road to end up close enought to touch the thing (there are dogs and tall trees on the other side of the river placed there to prevent you from even daring to laying eyes on the castle for free)

Unfortunately until I get a new camera cable or card reader, thats all you get.
Today I rocked into Bourges, intending to take the train back into paris to bitch out the mechanic who had either sold me a bum bottom bracket or done a sloppy job of installing it. Before paying for the ticket though, I had the sense to hit up an internet cafe and do a bit of research - sometething about french BBs being wacky in some way was nagging at the back of my mind. Sure enough, bikeforums.net provided the answer (french BBs are now obsolete as they have the bad habit of working themselves loose - the solution: re-seat the sucker WELL and put in some locktite to keep it there). So I'll roll on tonight, having dropped 20 more euros on the bike, but a small price compared to what I had expected the episode to cost me, and no detours back to Paris - thank god.

I've actually got a whole post I'd like to write about my thoughts on paris, but I think its going to have to wait for next time, as the road calls and its starting to get late. I've begun to slip back into a comfprtable rythm, and I'm getting faster and faster. If I hadn't stopped in Bourges all afternoon I might have done 140K today - seriously.

Anyway, ERE is my ride since leaving paris. Next stop is Montluçcon where I'm told there is a church with a magnificent organ that is a replica of one Bach played on? composed for? something. Then further and further south, possibly though the Massif Central - a chain of apparently beautiful mountains, if I'm feeling massacistic. I dont know if I'll make Barcelona for the begginning of july (though I'd like to, as I've some cool people to meet) but the road will take me where it will.

Don't know when I'll have internet next - its hard to come by in these parts - but until then, thinking of all you wonderful jerks!

Viva la velorution

2007-06-16T14:27:00.001-07:00

She Rolls...

It was not a particularly fun task, and I do not exaggerate one iota when I say that a lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into this new bike. Literally on all counts. There were incompatibilities galore, and I've gone down to 7 speeds on the rear cassette, with my 11T sprocket offline. Sawing and power grinding were involved in getting this bike to roll.

It looks like what I've gotten my hands on is some kind of precursor to cyclocross bikes. The mechanic told me its from 1960, and the cantilever brakes combined with a tight frame (little pedal clearance in the front), light tubing, and lack of excess braze ons for rack mounting tells me its a race bike not a true tourer. Regardless, she's beautiful, and she's what I could find in the time I had on the budget I have, so she's coming to turkey with me.

At the Arch de Triomph, feeling, well, triumphant.

Huge thanks are in order to Mike, who's been putting me up, and to Murat (pictured below) who lives at the bike squat and has provided me with all the tools I needed, as well as A+ tasty food and turkish coffee pretty much everytime I've gone over to work. I've also had the chance to put some help into his evolving tall tandem; I hope to get to ride it before I skip town.

_______________________________________________________________________
Expatriate games:

Take a minute, if you've got one, to keep an eye on what other eastvan kids are doing over here in ye olde worlde:

Tim Wyatt, the Ten Speed Cowboy:
http://tenspeedcowboy.net

Mike Kushnir, host extraordinaire (also maker of many good breakfasts)
http://twilightcity.wordpress.com

Je te presente Leuze

2007-06-12T08:10:00.000-07:00

I didn't think it was going to happen-

I'd been to every bike shop in town that sells used bikes (les velos d'occasion), and it was coming down to a choice between one overpriced bike that I didn't like very much and another overpriced bike I didn't like very much. There were some encounters with a few remarkably unsympathetic mechanics and shop clerks along the way. My stock in the French was dropping rapidly.

Then by chance I returned to Bic'loun, the shop I'd first dropped into and test road the dreamy and affordably priced road bike that, unfortunately wasn't really what I was looking for. If I lived in paris this would be the shop I hit up most frequently - their prices are fair, the staff is nice, and they have a simply amazing collection of vintage and rare bikes hanging about the shop (pictures to come if I go back with my camera). The basement is packed with sexy vintage road bikes that are priced from 100-400 Euros; it amazes me that so many people ride junkers around town when a place like this exists.

I'd gone back to tell them not to hold the road bike for me, and to see if- somehow- some new stuff had turned up in the basement. It hadn't, but as I was talking to the clerk it got suddenly busy and another mechanic came out to help. Turned out he was the owner. I asked him if he knew anywhere in town I could buy JUST a used frame (everyone seems to sell complete bikes only). 'We've got them' he tells me. 'Ah, oui, j'en ai vu, mais je cherche quelque chose en particulaire - un cadre de randonner' (a touring frame). 'What size of wheels?' He asks, 'what frame size?' 700C and 54 cm I explain. 'Hold on, I might have something downstairs.'

He returns in a few minutes with Leuze, a dreamy metalic blue offered at the equally dreamy price of 100 euros (compared to the 300 being asked for the only other true tourer I've yet seen, or the 450 a new frame would have cost me.

She's got beautiful lug details, is light steel, and is of an unknown make (potentially hand crafted? My French is serving me quite well but fell down when he was explaining this).

She's named after a little town in belgium that is unremarkable save for the fact that it has a pretty name and that I had a hard time finding somewhere to sleep near.

I start building her tomorrow, and plan to put some time in helping Mike's friend Murat (one of the bike squat kids) work on his tall-tandem (yes, you read that right, a tall tandem bike).

Thanks to everyone for their kind words and support, I should have my wheels back any day.

In the mean time Ive been ripping around town on a rickety but quite striking borrowed green Motoconfort road bike, and its given me back my mobility. I truly felt chopped at the legs without something to ride - it was a strange experience. The upside was that I got to experience french trains and the Paris Metro, neither of which I would have probably tried if Rex had been in order. The metro really is pretty cool, and the entrances look like they were designed by Geiger or Gaudi (or their bastard lovechild). I mentioned that trafic here is crazy, but the longer I ride in it the more I begin to see it as an ordered chaos. While The air pollution is pretty bad, there seems to be little road rage, or even use of the horn - I've yet to see an accident. In my search for Leuze I've pedalled to pretty much every corner of the city (guess what, it's REALLY BIG) and have come to feel the streets quite well; Vancouver will never really seem the same I don't think. You really have to get your 'dont fuck with me' body language, road positioning, and game face on at times, and its a rush to work your way into a massive roundabout with 6 exiting streets and 200 cars. I think I might just miss it.

(PS, my apologies to Leanne - you were absolutely right!)
(PPS, I've uploaded some new photos and added a link to my flickr site on the right underneath the little map)

French Lessons

2007-06-11T10:10:00.000-07:00

Frame = Cadre
Pedals = pedailles
wheel = roue
spoke = rayon
saddle = siege
brakes = freins

I could go on for hours.

I went to a dozen bike shops today looking for a new frame... my other french lesson was that, for the french at least, monday is the new sunday. or sunday #2. or something. anyway, maybe only half of them were open. I only found one used touring frame, and it came only as a whole bike - the guy wanted 300 euros for it, which to me is a bit steep. there is also a store that specializes in touring gear here (new only) and they were also closed - but the guy at the shop nextdoor, which is connected in some capacity, seemed quite symqthetic and seemed to convey the idea that they might cut a deal on something for me because helping touring bikers was something they were into. fingers crossed. Otherwise its a regular road bike, and I have some concerns whether one can handle the extra stress of weight all day over 4000 km.

Today I also bought some new tools and a sleeping bag. I bought the bag at an outdoor store here that was remarkably cheaper (though apparently of comperable quality) to MEC. I might go back and exchange the sleeping bag (50 euros) for an even lighter one which packs up smaller than any bag Ive ever seen, but is only good down to 10° - its only 40 euros. They also have tiny 1 man 1.5kg tents and 2 man 2kg tents for 89/95 euros, but I'm still considering the no-tent tarp only option.

Merde.

2007-06-10T11:59:00.000-07:00

So it happened like this.

I was in a forested area about 60 km north of Paris, just south of Senlis, looking for somewhere to make lunch. It is remarkably hard to find public green space with any kind of water in it (to wash my pot, in this case) in France, so I was looking for a while. Eventually I came across a small creek and decided it was the place. Stopped, locked up Rex, grabbed my stove and some food and trekked it down to the stream. Cooked,, ate, came back to the ultimate nightmare. No bike, no bags, no nothing.

Needless to say I freaked out. Many profanities were screamed to the empty road and the sky. A couple of unhelpful people refused to drive me to the nearby village, so I walked there, a pretty pathetic sight all mopey, trekking up the road with a camelback bladder of water in one hand and a mesh bag with a pot and stove in it in the other. Doing a quick account, I found I was in posesion of nothing but the following items:
My possessions as of present consist of:
one pair of socks
one pair of shoes
one pair of bike shorts
one pair of pants
one wool shirt
one hat
one utility belt
my passport, credit cards, debit card
swiss army knife
lighter
camping stove + fuel bottle
one water bottle
2 liter water bladder
pen
notebook

I literally had the clothes on my back.

Things got a little better at the next village. The people in the town bar felt really bad and called someone who drove me to the police (actually the Gendarmes - local milita who provide police services to the countryside). They took my statement and told me how to find a train to paris, which I did, still dejected. I gave the cops my email and the phone number of Marie, my the lovely and friendly owner of the couch I'd arranged to surf.

Into Paris, where I found an email/phone center, cancelled my travelers checks and got in touch with Mike Kushnir, a vancouver friend living over here. Mike came and met me and took me out for a beer. I got in touch with Marie and - to my serious surprise, found out that the police had called and my bike had turned up with some of my stuff - I could go check it out the next day.

It was a mixed blessing. The theives took my sleeping bag, hammock, tools, food, and some random small stuff. They left me my panniers and clothing, my book of maps (with both sentimental and practical value), thermarest, and ramdom small stuff.

But the bitch is this. Rex is dead.

The bastards ditched him i a field close to where he was jacked from - they had, get this, cut the rear triangle (seat stay and chain stay) in three places to get the lock off. Really now, c'est vraiment stupid - the bike is rendered un-ridable, and thus of any value to them, AND cutting through the bike like that would have taken way more effort than simply stealing the panniers which contained everything that they did decide to take, and probably more effort than just cutting the lock.
I have no idea how I did not hear this happening.

SO.

The situation now is this. I have places to stay in paris as long as I need, and I now need to set about the task of turning up a new frame. All of the other components on the bike are sound, so it will be a matter of sourcing out a frame, and then transferring everything over to the new one. There will probably be some problems dealing with incompatibilities between french and english threaded things (bottom bracket, headset) but the rest should probably go over ok. I kind of doubt I will find a true touring frame used, the right size, and for a decent price so I might have to settle for a road frame (I can at least swap Rex's front fork over to keep the cantilever mounts up front). Some pretty rad friends of mike run a bit of a ghetto bike mechanic opepration and have tools I can use to do some of the work. I've also got to source out a new sleeping bag, some tools, and potentially a tent, though I am considering just getting a tarp and using it to put up some kind of sketchy lean-to to sleep in when I need it - its hot enough over here that a tent is really only for rain protection, not warmth.

The bullshit aside, I'm still having a great time. I've made peace with getting shit done, spending (hey, I'm spending a LOT less than if nothing had turned up - I will be the first to admit I got lucky), and I'm loving paris.

The city is huge and trafic is mental - I've been having a ton of fun riding (borrowed bike) around town. The drivers here are all over the place but by now I'm at a point in my riding where big crazy cities dont scare me one bit, and I am agressive enough to MAKE the space I need on the road (after confirming by eye contact that the driver in question KNOWS I am there). Its a rush, I'll admit. I made it out to the world naked bike ride here, which was a blast - until it got busted up by the police, who arrested 2-5 people and were just about lynched by the bike mob.

There is a butcher (who does deli-ish stuff too) and a baker on virtually every block here and quality, fresh, and cheap-ish food is easy to find (bread price, for example, is controlled by the government). I've never had so much good cheese in my life and I think I am forever spoiled. Eating at home will either never be the same or my cost of living is going to triple. I've yet to really visit a single 'famous monument' but as with most of my trip so far its the living culture that has interested me far more than the dead, and, as with the rest of the trip so far I've somehow stumbled across a good people who are both having fun, making do, and working to make the world better. There is this breed everywhere, it seems, and its truly something inspiring to find. I'm doing my best to spread the vancouver bike love - and the east van flavour too.

This week will consist of getting my shit back together, while trying to be a bit of a tourist, and attempting to spread bike polo to the masses (I think I can get a game going so long as I am able to provide mallets - which means tracking down pvc tubing and ski-poles. Its a legacy I would be overjoyed to leave behind in town).

As before, I miss all you jerks and am homesick everytime I get an email from the velolove or bikepolo mailinglist (god damn you!)

Today

2007-06-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

France is amazing.

Virtually as soon as I crossed the border, everything changed. The roads are long, windy, and well marked. Camping here is easy. The countryside is beautiful.

Its misty in the morning and hot and sun-bleached in the afternoon.

I cooked my breakfast at a spring which is the source of a river that flows all the Netherlands (L'Escaut), which was in a quiet glade - it was somewhat mystical.

I had my first 100km day.

I only spent 3 euros today.

Tired but feeling very good.

2007-06-05T03:31:00.000-07:00

Okay so here is the second leg on Gmaps Its friday evening, a day off in Gent on saturday, sunday's ride to just outside of Luze, qnd then this morning's cross to France. I'm posting right now from Valenciennes; I crossed the border at about 10 this morning after sleeping in a farmer's field (I was still looking for somewhere to crash close to midnight - desperate, exhausted, and having lost and then re-found my camera at a dodgy spot I had considered stealth camping). Yesterday was a day of highs and lows. I had trouble finding my way out of Gent (getting into cities is much harder than getting out - especially when your map is scaled 1:200000), got lost a couple of times, just about lost my camera, didn' make the mileage I wanted, and had trouble finding somewhere to sleep for free. On the other hand, I took a rural route thad had me, for the first time, really working on some climbs and with some exhillarating decents. I've got my packing system worked out efficiently now, and I know I can survive even in a shelter crisis. The weather was nice and I was smiling a lot. So 50/50 I'd say.

Anyhow, let me get back to my belgium story. Last I told you, I had crossed into belgium. I made for Antwerp, and spent several hours there trying to acquire a map of the area and food supplies, then crossed under the river in an awesome pedestrian/bike tunnel that must be a KM long. Was trying to make some serious mileage so I stayed on the smaller highway and pushed it to just outside of a small town called Lokeren, where I spent the night in an unfinished house. Belgium is a wierd country - all of the cities, and even the smaller towns, have really busy central shopping districts full of expensive boutiques and crowds and fashionable people (as opposed to the dutch who, despite their other good traits have little in the way of style -- my apologies to any dutch folk reading this!!) Then, only a few blocks away everything else (houses and shops) is shuttered up, and depressed looking. I'm not sure if it is some kind of economic contrast or that the belgians are just ultra private and like to lock themselves awlay from the world...

The next day I got up early and rocked into Gent. I had been planning on spending the night and had gotten in touch with a local girl, Lore, through couchsurfing and hqd somewhere to stay - it was a good thing, because one of my knees started to hurt really badly almost immediately and a day off the bike was badly needed. Looking for internet, amongst the heavy and overwhelming medieval 'skyscrapers'. Eventually I spotted (as is becomming a technique) an interesting looking person (dreadlocked girl on a bike) and asked if she knew where I could get online - Alla, her name was, rode me to the internet shop, gave me her nu,ber, and told me to stop by for coffee and a joint if I wanted.

It was a good thing I did - good conversation ensued, and, even better she introduced me to her neighbor Stijn who has biked and camped in france. We got along well (he's an environmental policy consultant - I like the ring - and the implications of that) qnd he GAVE me a high quality (Michelen) book of maps of france - the whole country, qnd suggested some routes to me. It was one of those amazing chance encounters.

Eventually I rolled on, explored the city (and its cursed cobbled streets), saw the castle, and swung by Lore's place, just in time to catch her before she headed out to work. She had another surfer staying, Mauro from Italy, and together we went out and tried some belgian beers. The next morning Lore sent me off with orange juice and tasty chocolate Gent wafers.

All in all one of the cooler cities I've been to - very laid back and postive vibe, amazing architecture and old feel (tons of squares to sit in) and hip and hippie kids everywhere (cute girl on bike overload. Seriously higher cute:bike ratio than amsterdam).

So now I have to find one more map (unfortunately the book Stijn gave me is missing like 2 pqges - which happen to cover where I am now), pick up some food supplies, choose the next destination, and hit the road. Sometimes on these midday stops in towns I feel lilke I am an RPG character- roll into town as a stranger, get suplies, potions, dig up nuggets of valuable information. My bike is my horse, and I am a wanderer - its sweet.

Miss you suckers and jealous I'm missing the Bikarnival. Email me with stories of life at home!

Pictures!

2007-06-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

Ok, managed to find somewhere to sneak a few pictures online - this is just a few teasers I guess. More will probably have to wait until Paris...

check it out on my flickr page:http://www.flickr.com/photos/midnightsimon/

The road so far...

2007-06-03T01:53:00.000-07:00

I'm in an internet/phone center in Gent, Belgium right now, its sunny and early, and already I've ridden past three medieval churches and one medieval castle (complete with moat).

I had intended to make this a long post chronicling my three days on the road, but these wierd belgian keyboards have a bunch of letters in the wrong place, so its slow going (if you spot misplaced 'a' 'w' 'z' 'q' ',' or 'm's, now you know why).

I left amsterdam late- as is befitting a vancouver biker, and had a bitch of a time getting onto the 'Landen Fietsroute' - the special marked network of paths that make a bike route from (in my case, though I believe there are up to two dozen nationally) Amsterdam to Rotterdam. Finding the fietsroute, to get on it, was one thing - staying on it was another. Let me warn you right now, beware these routes! You are so busy looking for the next sign to let you know ARE paying attention, some major intersections are mysteriously unmarked. To make things worse, my (specifically reccomended) map, showing the fietsroutes, was only available in the next-to-useless scale of 1:300000. Day one I managed about 70 km I believe (.. starting to seriously think about investing in a bike computer).

Rotterdam. Very differet from Amsterdam. You can feel it immediately, everything is spread out wider, there are more green spaces, the pace is more laid back, and modern archicecture is dominant (thanks to the near complete destruction of the city by bombing in WWII.

I rolled in at about 7 pm (after scoping out a 'you definitely should not camp here' euro nature park for potential places to sneakily camp), and fell right into Groen Voltage - another squatter meetingplace. Sone (sp?), behind the bar saw me outside looking confused, came outside, and asked me if I needed anything - Internet, he told me, was inside and free - qnd wouldnt you know it, they were starting a Voku in about 10 minutes. Cheap food and beer, good conversation - and, it quickly turned out, a place to stay (much thanks to Carly for offering up a spare bed at her squat) - luck was with me again. One of the other kids at dinner also tipped me off to the local choppermakers who, after some confusion I found the following day (photos to come whenever the photos end up coming. Sorry guys - its bugging me too, though its probably helping me stop using photos as a blogging crutch). Joris, who's shop it was was a little apprehensive at first, but (as apparently with most dutch people) opened up somewhat after I forced my personality on him. It probably helped that I had a polo mallet on my bike (what the hell is that? - polo! here's some websites you should check out) and that told him a little about my trip the bike kids at home. He told me about the FBI bike festival in Amsterdam in July (DAMN), and showed me two bikes he was bringing - the coolest custom chopper I've yet seen (pix soon), and a stretch mini he was building for a Mini bike race(!!) at the FBI - get this - frame height restrictions, crank length restrictions, and ,ax 12 inch wheels. intense. I told him about the kittens, thanked him, and hit the road.

My detour to joris' shop cost me some time, and it was almost 2:30 when I hit the road. Some nice countryside and a couple of ferry rides were the days highlights - spots of heavy rain, and a long detour/ lost spell (as a result of the bloody fietsroutes) were the lowlights. I had aimed to make Antwerp that night - even had somewhere to stay set up courtesy of couchsurfing.com - but ended up frustrated at my low mileage and cruising the rural byways just outside of Roosendal at dusk looking for stealth camp locations. Stands of trees dense enough to obscure me and my bike, that are also accessible by road are harder than expected to come by. I eventually found a piece of neglected/ for sale property right next to the rail line in which I could hide out and set up camp. My sleep was punctuated by loud trains and dreams of tornadoes.

I took the previous day's lesson to heart and got an early start the following morning. Ditched the fietsroutes and road in the bike lane on the highway. And then, before I even knew what had happened to me I had illegally transported drugs across an international border.
You see, I had this piece of hash Ian hqd given me in my bag - and there I was, pedalling down the road. In my peripheral vision I see q blue squqre with a ring of stars, 'Belgie' printed underneath. The licenseplqtes now all have little Bs on them, insteqd of NLs. Ooops. Thank the bike gods for porous european borders. Even so, I'll get rid of it before I hit france - their laws are notoriously strict - I suspect I will give it to the hippie girl who showed me where this internet shop is and offered to smoke me up later if I wanted.

Anyway, looks lke my internet time is up, so I will have to finish this story later. Medieval Gent awaits!

Gmappin'

2007-06-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

This was Tim's idea, but it's a good one, so i'm gonna steal it.

Gmapped route so far - thats just under 3 days riding (gonna put in a few more K today). its a rough map, but I'll get it precise when I'm less tired.
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1010420

Miss you jerks - How was the last midnight mass?

On the road again

2007-05-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

Well, its my last night in amsterdam - but I think I'll be taking it chill tonight. I plan on getting up early tomorrow and laying rubber to the road, heading south for belgium. Even cutting corners at pretty much every oportunity I still spent way too much money in this city, but its been a good introduction to europe generally, and the culture-shock just makes me sort of shake my head rather than interferes with me actually doing anything.

One of my longest standing friends came into town last night and we drank a crate of Grolsh together and wandered the city, smoked a joint or two (hey man, with your old bro in amsterdam - of course you have to!) and I sent him off on the train this aft. I'm feeling restless and ready to ride, and now nothing is holding from rolling anymore. I'm going to try and get in touch with the Rat Patrol chopper club in Gent, Belgium, and perhaps I'll have more luck there getting in touch with the freakbikers than here (probably could have been done with a few more days here I think).

I still havent found somewhere that will let me upload photos, but you'll see them as soon as i do..

I guess that's about it for now- more to come from the road!

-simon

Kracken Amsterdam

2007-05-25T05:00:00.000-07:00

Day three here, a lot has changed.

Intending to stay in town until at least the 30th (my friend Ian is coming here on the 29th, and I want to chill with him in a crazy foreign city), I was beginning to worry about accomodations - hostels run around $40 cdn per night, which is pretty much my budget for an entire day. Couchsurfing.com was not turning up anything, and I am super paranoid about leaving my bike anywhere out of sight with the panniers on it, pretty much limiting my mobility (can't very well take it into public bathrooms now, can I?).

That was, until I cracked the Kracks. Krack is dutch for Squat - they have a vibrant squat community here with roots back to the late 1970s, when activists fed up with the lack of housing began to occupy empty buildings. The tradition has carried on since then, and while the police conduct 'eviction waves' to clear squats that have lost their court cases, there is a resilliant base of squatters who continue to occupy buildings all over town. They are a tight knit community, and tend to be politically active in a variety of other ways as well.

I found out where one of the squatter hangouts was - the Voku Molli (means people's kitchen) where they host a thursday night vegan dinner for 2euros, showed up, and made the push to get over my fear of the unknown. Started talking to the kids who were showing up, and soon enough had befriended a couple. I happened to have bike tools with me and helped a guy named Bart fix up a bike he had salvaged from the street. Next thing you know we've got my map out and they are pinpointing squats around town, good places to hang out (squat bars, where most of the squat kids congergate to hang out and drink cheap beer), his girlfriend has my notepad and is writing down contact info for squatters in Barcelona. It's not too long before I am offered a place to stay for the night. So now I'm crashing in a third floor, street facing room of a squatted building with some ultra friendly dutch kids - apparently the invite is open for a little while at least (and perhaps as long as I need?). While there seems to be no 'bike culture'in the sense we know (bikes being so dominant here, the concept seems a little meaningless) there is radical culture, and the way the squatters interact reminds me a lot of our community. I've Kracked a local scene, plugged myself in, and am feeling as good about it as I was bad about being a lame-ass tourist stuck in hosteltown. I've also been invited out to another squat bar tonight, and was given the lowdown on another people's kitchen this evening so I wont have to break the bank to eat.

What else to say about amsterdam? Pictures are worth a thousand words - but they're all stuck on my camera right now. I had the good fortune to get hooked up with internet at the university (through Jeroen, one of the kids I met last night), but was too stupid to bring my USB cable with me, and am unlikely to find a connection this good again for a little while, so they might have to wait. Lots of good stuff though, including mad-packed bike racks, the very few stylin bikes I've seen (I'll say this - while Amsterdam may be the city of bikes, it seems to have taken on the mantle inspite of itself. Bikes are a major part of transportation here, but they are all ugly has hell and in terribly shape - everyone's bike rattles, clanks, and has rust all over the place - people genuinely don't seem to care about them!), student housing built out of shipping containers, and the inside of the squat building I'm crashed at. I have seen ONE fixed gear bike (being ridden by a messenger), and several fakies (singlespeeds with coaster brakes) - these bikes stand out in the sea of rusted out citybikes, and even mountain bikes stand out enough to catch my eye. There is NO BIKE POLO in amsterdam. I have asked anyone who might have heard about it that I've come in contact with (messenger guy, people in bike shops, the squatters), and I think if it was going on at someone would have at least heard about it. Alas, my mallet rests at the ready, perhaps in Paris I'll do better.

That's pretty much where my head is at now - I've landed on my feet and this crazy-ass city doesnt scare me anymore (I was overwhelmed at first, I'll admit).

Things I want to do in the next couple of days:
-Go to at leat one art museum - They have a rembrandt museum here, but I believe there is also a Breugel exhibit at a different museum and I would much rather see that!
-Check out the Amsterdam Velodrome - I stopped in the only bike store I've seen yet with a track bike in it, and asked about velodromes. If I had been here a month earlier they would have had open training sessions in which I could have rented a bike and ridden the track - its all pro for may-september, unfortunately. Still going to try and get out there to watch a couple of races. I also drooled over a really hot orange Rabobank bike jersey in the shop, but at 60 euros (roughly $90), I think its a souvenier out of my price range... we'll see.
-Check out the chopperdome - detective work, going through the dead babies and getting passed onto the choppaderos has given me an address that might help find mutant bikers in amsterdam. So far, the only chopper I've seen was parked in front of a squat that I don't know anyone staying at.
-Find a swimming pool. Gotta clean off somewhere, yo - starting to get a bit ripe. Its HOT here.
-Take a long ride out of town - 40-60 K loop in the surrounding countryside.

Thats about all I can think of for now. Miss you guys lots, and was thinking of you this morning while y'all were midnight massing (9 am here). More updates to come, and hopefully I'll be able to get some pictures online soon.

-midnight/on the road

The rubber's on the road

2007-05-23T22:54:00.000-07:00

Coming in from the airport, I have my first experience with Dutch bicycle superiority.

Naively, I'd expected the rules of the road to be the same as here - I saddle up my bike (heavy, by the way... already thinking about what I can ditch) and ride out onto the highway. The first car that honks at me doesnt take me by surprise. I'm used to it at home. I'm a road warrior, unflappable. But the next car does. And the next, and the next. What's the deal? aren't these people supposed to be enlightened or something?

Yup. So enlightened infact, that they have entirely seperate roads for bikes, which MUST be used when available. The highway drivers were busy letting me know that I am a freaking idiot. Lesson learned.

Out riding after I find a hostel do ditch my bags (rediculously overpriced - I'm still scrambling to get my hands on some free accomodation) I'm amazed.

Bikes everywhere, EVERYWHERE. Most people seem to have more beat up versions of those Jorg and Oliff bikes they're always trying to sell to Yaletowners, though I have seen one or two roadbikes, and talked to a kid with a singlespeed who told me that there are a few courriers riding fixed (I've yet to see them). Girls sit on the back of their boyfriends'racks looking casual, or text messaging their friends. No one is wearing helmets. Its an entirely different universe.

Today I'm going to try and get a handle on the squat movement and try and actually meet some Dutch people. The downtown core is swarming with tourists and the red light district and hash bars really seem worth about 5 minutes inspection and not much more. I'll keep y'all posted.

Emails and stuff

2007-05-20T14:07:00.000-07:00

Okay everyone, pretty much the last gasp here while I'm still in town.

I'm planning on posting updates about my trip here for the most part, but I might just send out some of those mass emails that everyone hates getting too.

SO.

If you want to recieve emails from me, email me at midnightsimon AT Gmail DOT com.

Okay, exciting stuff I know!

Locality and Identity

2007-05-18T01:45:00.000-07:00

So I was browsing through the comments on a previous post and a couple of people pointed out having cool vancouver stuff to carry with me/ hand out to others would be a good call.

I've got a big sack of MM buttons and a few spoke cards to hand out, but that's about it. Moreover, I dont have much on my bike (other than a couple of spoke cards and an MC3 sticker) to ID me as a citizen of the republic of east vancouver. I'm pretty dead set against putting anything as obvious as a canadian flag on there anywhere, but things that pay more attention to our real locality would be nice... anyone have any peices of eastvan or hometown schwag I can use to ID myself or hand out to international bikers along the way? 'Twould be much appreciated!

the "See You Suckers Later" Kickball BBQ & Beer Up

2007-05-14T17:03:00.000-07:00

I love you dirty bikers, and I'll miss you all. Why not come out and let me tell ya in person?

Who: Me, You, Some other people you probably already know, or at least would get along with

What: Sending my sorry ass off to foreign lands

-There will be BBQing

-There will be California Kickball

-There will be boozin' up (sorry cats, BYO - I'll need that dough to impress the spanish ladies or eat or something like that)

Where:

Trout Lake Park (specific location TBA)

When: lets say 6:30 to start, yo.

Why: Cause I'm gonna miss all your pasty, but sexy Canadian bike butts.

Other debauchery will likely follow, but we can nail that down when we get to it.

(oh, did I mention that we're gonna play kickball? like grade 7 styles, except with more beer.)

Pay to Play

2007-05-13T23:54:00.000-07:00

So I've been lurking around a lot lately in the touring forum on bikeforums, building up my knowledgebase
so I wont be quite such a n00b when I hit the road on my first major tour. I've come across a lot of valuable information on there, but I was recently disturbed to find a link that informed me that, as of janurary 1 2007 most airlines are now charging a fee of up to $150 to fly a bike overseas, whereas once upon a time a bike box was just considered one of your pieces of checked luggage (pretty rational if you ask me,
considering a bike in box still weighs less than most people on acancun vacation's over-packed suitcase!)

Alarmed, I began doing my own research. A series of phonecalls to the airline (in this case, KLM(Royal Dutch)/ NWA (yes, there is an airline called NWA)) eventually got me one answer. (A note on KLM's 'customer service' - their robo-phone system, which does not allow you to skip the automated segment and speak directly with an agent made dealing with 'Chris,' Translink's perky and rage inducing automated phone-drone seem quick, efficient and pleasant. After being forced to yell words to a robot that didn't understand them, I finally 'got through' only to actually be hung up on by the system when it told me that call volume was so high they couldn't take my call at present.) The agent (when I finally got through to one) told me that my bike, indeed, could be considered one piece of checked luggage (up to 70 lbs, no less) and that there was (and I clearly asked on this matter, to make sure there was no confusion) no charge for it. Huzzah!

However.
While I was busy being frustrated by the useless and rage inducing automated customer-diversion phone system, I tapped out a quick email to the baggage people to try and get an answer. And I got it today:

NWA/KLM/CO accepts non-motorized single seat bicycle/tricycle as checked luggage for a fee. Handlebars must be fixed sideways and pedals removed or wrapped with protective packing material. Bikes should be placed in a bike box. When packed in other than a bike box, a Limited Liability Release form must be signed. ... International Bike Charges:
One excess charge applies.
For TransAtlantic travel the fee is $150.00 USD/CAD.
For TransPacific travel the fee is $130.00 USD/CAD.

Well.
This is some nasty business. And, being the stubborn bitch that I am, I'm not going to take it without at least complaining loudly. Truly, you don't want to be standing beside me when I'm faced with a lousy customer service experience. It gets ugly. Maybe I've just worked in the business too long.

Anyhow, I composed and sent the following to KLM's customer service department this evening. Likely it won't make any difference, but its better than taking it laying down.

To Whom It May Concern,

Thank you for replying to my query regarding bicycle carrying regulations on KLM airlines.

Unfortunately, the answer I received has left me more confused than when I posed it in the first place. Between sending my email asking for KLM's policy regarding bicycles as luggage and receiving an answer, I phoned in and spoke with a customer service agent. I clearly and specifically asked the agent whether there was a charge to carry a bicycle, or whether it could be checked as one of 2 pieces of luggage at no cost, and was told that, indeed, there was no cost to check the bike provided it was in a bike box and within weight restrictions. Are you able to address this discrepancy?

Should it be that bike charges are indeed mandatory, I am curious as to why KLM charges passengers an additional fee to carry a bicycle when other passengers routinely check luggage that is both more difficult to manage in size and shape and heavier than a bike-in-box. That bicycle carrying passengers are singled out and charged due to the specific content of their luggage seems rather unfair.

Such a policy, moreover, seems to fly in the face of KLM Airline's stated position regarding environmental sustainability. A perusal of your website indicates that your airline working on "a sustainability policy, aimed at the creation of economic prosperity, social value and a quality environment," and has gone as far as to take the step of creating its own internal department of environmental services, charged with minimizing the airline's environmental impact.

However, this stated commitment to green principles might be construed as little more than lip service when your airline works to undermine the green choices of its customers. Would not a true commitment on the part of KLM to the goals of environmental sustainability go beyond merely auditing the airline's fuel efficiency and purchasing policy and truly embrace "an adaptation of business processes" that supports the green choices of its customers? Penalizing cyclists does not seem in harmony with such a commitment.

Thank you for your time, I look forward to your reply

Sincerely,
Simon Little

Free Stuff!

2007-05-10T20:56:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm off in a week and a half and I need to unload a bunch of my stuff. You could benefit!

As pictured:

-2 Frames - one really nice ralleigh with 531 tubing, but of dubious structural integrity (has been crashed) - good for a chopper? or fix it up and try to ride it anyway? (don't blame me if it fails and you die) The other is a French frame of unknown origin

-Several salvageable alloy wheels

-An old Wright leather saddle

-2 minibikes 16" & 18"... one is modded with some rad ass home made bullhorns, but needs a new back tire (worn right thru from skidding). Lets keep these little guys in the community.

-some oldschool Cinelli bars

-Tires, 1 new and one in decent condition. Both 700c.

I've also got a bunch of clothes and some random stuff (shoulder bag, beat up but cute and out of date little globe, random other stuff) I'm giving away.

Want some free stuff? Talk to me about coming to get it/ check it out. Or find me by email midnightsimon///gmail(dot)com.

Also available, but FOR SALE:

- 1 Xbox. Its in great condition, comes with 4 controllers and Halo 2, Starwars battlefronts 2, and Fusion Frenzy (party game along the lines of mario party - its tons of fun when you have people over and everyone is rowdy). 100 bucks

- 1 White Centurion bicycle, 56 cm. Paint is a bit beaten up, but it runs well. Askin 100 bucks

Might be some other stuff here in the near future... keep your eyes on it..

Gearing up.

2007-05-05T02:07:00.000-07:00

I've got a confession to make.

I've been doing a lot of shopping lately.

I'm not really a shopper - the whole thing makes me kind of edgy, and spending large sums of money tends to make me feel a little ill. Maybe its deep seated issues with consumer culture, or maybe I'm just cheap. The jury's still out on that one.

Anyhow, of late I've been spending loads of time in and out of outdoor and bike shops around town, whittling down my list of things to buy. Its actually been kind of fun.

The other day I picked up a pair of these:

They've now made their way onto Rex's front rack and are full of old textbooks to get me used to pulling that kind of weight around. Guess those books turned out to be useful for something!

In the last few days I've also picked up a thermarest, camelback bladder, tiny little multi-fuel powered camping stove and pot set and some other exciting bits and peices. Its really the first time I've owned a complete camping set - when this trip is over, I'll now have the capacity to skip town at the drop of a hat. Its an idea I find quite appealing.

The most exciting thing I've acquired in the last week, though, has been my accomodations for the comming months. An old friend was kind enough to lend me, on long term loan, a Hennesy Hammock.

These things are pure grade A made in BC ingenuity. Totally waterproof, and functional to set up even in the absence of trees. I'll admit I'm a little nervous at the prospect of living in a hammock for five months... but I'm also kind of stoked on the concept. Time, I suppose will tell.

In the mean time, I'll continue to work my way down the list.

My complete inventory should look a little something like this:

Camping
Sleeping bag
Compression Sack
Tent/ Hammock
Thermarest??
Cammo net for stealth camping?
Ziplock bags & heavy duty plastic bags
Groundsheet

Cooking
Spoon/Fork/Swiss army knife
lightweight potset
Small Camping stove + fuel bottle
Lighter
S&P&Spices
Can Opener? (or just use swiss)
Coffee filters/ pour over

Clothes:
Lycra shorts
Thermal top/bottom
Wool socks/ socks/ 3pr undies
Cycle cap & bandana
Rain jacket/ shoe covers/ H20 proof tights
3 jerseys/tshirts
1 long sleeve shirt?
2 pr. Bike gloves
Shoes
Flip Flops
Zip off pants/shorts
Sunglasses

Personal Effects
Toothbrush/paste/razor
Small journal, pencil
Digicam, batteries, charger
Microfiber chamois for towel
TP
Soap, small bottle shampoo
Sunscreen

Tools/ parts/ riding gear
Chain breaker
Tri-Allen and Tri-Socket
Tire levers & patch kit
Head Lamp
Spare tube x 2
Swiss army knife
Adjustable wrench
Zap straps
spoke wrench + spare spokes
Compression straps for racks
Pump
Lock setup
chainlube
Duct tape
Length of Rope
Water bottles/camelback

If y'all spot anything obvious missing from this list, point that shit out to me, cause I need to know on the sooner than the later!

see you cats on the streets.
/ms

Meet Rex

2007-04-16T18:27:00.000-07:00

He's a mid '80s Miele Turista touring bike with 700c wheels. I picked him up for a few bills over $200 at Cheapskates (lets hear it for cheapskates) and half way home, I already knew who he was. Most of my bikes have been girls (you just know), so I was a little surprised to find out he was a boy. The burly but smooth Cadilac like ride he offers, however, left little doubt that he was Rex, king of the road.

Right now he's in peices, but it's starting to come together. I've got a beefy new wheel on order, currently being built by Ed at mighty riders, and I'll be putting on a new tripple crankset (looking like 26/36/46), due to the fact that the original cranks came with worn out Sugino knockoff biopace rings, and replacing 3 rings will cost me the same as an entire new tripple crankset W/ rings. New chain, cassette, and shift lever and swapping in aero levers are the next step after that, then racks and panniers. I'm looking forward to some loaded long distance training rides in the near future (Sassamat Lake anyone? I'll carry the beer!)

So, for those of you wondering, the sketchy (and largely open to spur of the moment or totally whimsical changes) outline of the trip looks like this:

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=866090
I fly into Amsterdam on the 22nd of May, and out of Istanbul in late October (barring, as noted above, spur of the moment and/or whimsical changes). Other than that, anything goes.

Thats about it for now, but (if you give a shit) check back for more pre-departure updates. Once I'm gone to foreign shores, I plan to use this blog as a place to keep you cats updated on my adventures.

See you on the road.