bike49

by Matt Schiff

I wouldn’t expect someone to shoot, especially without giving fair warning, and considering the hour, the heat of the day had yet to add to the rage one might feel when coming across some trespassers. We’ve definitely been spotted as I watch a pickup stop, back up, and the driver get out and mess around the bed of the truck. What I can’t see is what worries me. Theoretically, a rifle could be loaded, steadied, and a round fired precisely while looking through the crosshairs of a scope. This is all unrealistic paranoia on my part as I lay down flat to minimize the possible target, peeking out above my sleeping bag. After a moment the man gets back in the truck and continues on. If he drives slowly we’ve got about a minute or two until confrontation. I rush to get clothes on but after no more than 30 seconds there is the crushing of sage.

We’ve left Yellowstone, left Cooke City, traveled through National Forest, and ascended eight miles at a 7% grade to an 8000 ft pass. Now, heading down the backside – the dry side – there’s a lot of private land, not a lot of cover, and we’re ready to camp before we get too close to Cody, WY. We just need to find a small patch of land to lay our tents and maybe some cottonwoods for shade. Without obvious “no trespassing” signs you can usually correctly assume you are entering BLM land in these parts of the country. One sign says a ranch begins behind this sign for 8 miles but looking the other way there’s no signage. We made camp, washed off, took proper bear precautions, and then called it a night as the light faded.

I woke up before the sun light up the mountains on the far side of the valley. I consider reading but this would take too much energy. I consider going back to sleep but my mind is moving and ready to start the day. I start to get up and perhaps get an early, cool start toward Cody and that’s when I spot the white truck.

The truck crashes over sage on a seldom used road. The driver rolls down his window.

“Good morning”, I say.

“You’re not supposed to be here. This is private land,” the man explains. He’s not pissed; in fact, he seems worried as if his boss might find out we were here.

“There are bears here. You camped in absolutely the worst spot. I’m just glad you guys are alive.”

We’ve heard that before, but given how much unwarranted fear there is towards bears, it’s tough to worry.

“You could have gotten hurt and then sued us and that’s not fair because you’re not supposed to be here,” he continues on.

Now that’s a fair claim and you have to respect people who discuss matters like these in a calm and respectful manner. I explain our confusion over the signage and how it was getting too late to continue on towards Cody. Enough was said. The man rolled up his window and took off.

In the west we run into plenty of public land and that’s the way I like it. We use BLM or Forest Service land to camp on because it is convenient and free, and there usually is no question as to where the public and private land is. This is the first run-in we’ve had, and at least for now, dispels the myth of the western states trigger happy rancher.

by Matt Schiff

This is a love story about high plains, barbed wire fence, getting away from it all, and the sagebrush that blankets this land.

Travelling southeast from Leadore, Idaho on highway 20, the valley widens and fills with sagebrush. The mountains move into the background while the sagebrush rangeland becomes the prominent feature. This undesirable land has been cleared for hay and developed for housing such that only 10% of the unique habitat is left undisturbed. Here, in the heart of nothingness, lies a woody shrub – big sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata) – a hearty little stiff plant you smell in the air and even more when it rains.

Air is swirling all around us. Sometimes we’re pushed from behind yet sudden gusts come ripping from the side. These air masses collide; hot and cold meet up to sort out their differences. Lightning flashes and thunder erupts. A small cell thunderstorms forms but the lightning is cloud-to-cloud (they keep it to themselves). We get hit with sideways rain and hail, and our shoes fill up like buckets. The pungent smell of sage fills the air.

The first time I was shocked by how desolate a landscape could be I was driving west on I-70 through Utah. Your first experience is not something you easily forget. Three years later I’m in a work pickup, 50 miles on a dirt road from Eureka, NV, not far from Duckwater, and far more remote than I-70 in Utah. It was raining lightly so the windows were up. We crawled 10 slow 4wd miles to our worksite; it was my first day of work. We opened the doors and that thick smell seemed to fill our clothes. The remoteness further stunned me. Footprints in the sand seemed like an intrusion to this rarely visited landscape. I loved it but didn’t know how much. It’s the landscape as well, but more so the sage.

There’s nothing out here along highway 20 and you better like it that way if you plan to stay. It is the antithesis of Las Vegas. Vegas pulls you in with neon lights, makes promises it can’t keep, and pretends to be savory when in reality it’s just quick and cheap. Vegas is your soft drink, that when finished, breaks your heart. In Idaho sageland there’s nothing but barbed wire fence, sage, a rusty can, and not a soul to keep you company. This place is like no-frills tap water. This place could break your heart. But if you run your hand through some sage leaves it might cleanse your spirit and leave your mind at ease (see traditional Native American uses). Even throw a handful in your shoes for proper balance (and anti-bacterial properties). Then maybe the soaring raptors become playful, the landscape peaceful, and the barbed wire gates a little easier to open. Your cowboy scowl softens – that’s the beginning to love – and you accept this landscape, this baron land, a place that was never worth saving.

Good ol’ BLM land. Thank you for wasteland!

By Bike49

Introduction by Matt Schiff

It’s been a while since we’ve given a good update, but you can’t blame us, we’ve been outdoors having fun (the story of our golden year – 2010). We spent the last two weeks passing through three National Parks and countless provincial parks in Canada but before that we were hammering out pedal strokes in rural country trying to make up a bit of time. We’ve been REALLY busy for the last month.

So first…

Great news! Patriots listen up. We’ve crossed the border and been welcomed home. Life is once again experienced in Red, White, and Blue (with the eagle flying high). We’re back in the United States. That means we enjoy nationwide cell phone coverage, cheaper food, even cheaper beer, and no more distance or temperature conversions. But don’t get me wrong; we loved Canada. We learned bits and pieces of French, described distances in clicks, and were so close to adding “eh” to the end of our sentences. Furthermore, people in Canada are some of the friendliest. That’s a challenge to the rest of our American compadres. Show us your hospitality, open up the doors to your house, and feed us a meal we can’t stop talking about. With one chapter of the trip done and another now beginning, we’re in the middle stage of looking forward, but continually digesting what has happened over the past 6 weeks.

For that duration of the trip we have all selected a few memorable stories of our time in Canada (so grab a map and follow our journey). Here is what we came up with:

Matt-

June 29

On a rainy day we stopped in Jade City, nothing more than a small gift shop luring travelers with free hot chocolate and coffee. Here you could find just about anything you wanted made with jade. As I soon learned, British Columbia mines most of the world’s jade and the company that owned the gift shop was one of the larger ones. They exported most of their loot, and sadly, all of the crafted pieces of jewelry were first shipped overseas to Asia to be formed into earrings or bears before being brought back to Jade City for sale. While in the gift shop I was thinking hot chocolate and coffee, and chatted with a guy riding 600 miles a day on a sport bike, but later I thought of the implications of all this mining, shipping, and refining of these treasure stones. After being warmed up by at least 3 cups of hot chocolate or coffee we left high on sugar and caffeine. Now we were warm. The rain had even stopped.

July 5

Another stop found us in Kitwanga, BC. In Kitwanga the grocery store was closed. It had been for the past month as the owner had died and no one was ready to work 7 days a week to take his place. This meant a missed opportunity for a well needed rest day despite the free in-town camping. We had the place to ourselves, but in the evening a van pulled in with a talkative old man. I think he was full of jokes and told lies or else he was just crazy. He said he’d just picked up his wife at a casino. He talked about knowing where the gold was. He talked even when we said “good night” and walked away. This was just another normally unique night at the junction of the Cassiar and Yellowhead Highways.

Sara-

We traveled over 2,000 miles in Canada, and thus there are a lot of epic stories.  As we discuss our favorite moments in Canada we remind each other of stories forgotten in the whorlwind of travel. Thus picking a few of my favorite stories was tricky.  I’ll tell you about a day hike we did near Hazelton, BC.

July 7

When we rolled into Hazelton we were ready for a rest day.  At the grocery store we asked locals about good hikes in the area and Blue Lake was mentioned several times.  Blue Lake was off the highway on about 5 miles of 4-wheel drive road, followed by 5 miles of hiking trail.  We figured we would find a campsite on the dirt road.  Let me tell you that it is hard to find camping along a road that goes straight up a mountain.  The trouble was that the mosquitoes were thick enough to make you go crazy, so there was never a point where we could calmly discuss the situation. None of us could sit still, so we just kept pushing our bikes up the steep road.  Finally we found a nice pullout and called it home for the next two nights.

In the morning Matt, Alyssum, and I packed our lunches in our bike panniers (yeah, we don’t have backpacks) and headed up the mountain.  The trail to the lake was nice.  It wandered through hemlocks and passed by boreal toads, leading us to Blue Lake.  Blue Lake was more of a glacier till emerald than blue.  Alyssum and I ran through the shallows and jumped in for a few moments. Blue Lake was cold!

Next we took off cross country; up talus slopes, rock outcrops, mossy hills, boulder fields, snow shoots, and snow fields.  We aimed for a peak, that hours later offered us an amazing view of our Blue Lake, layers of jagged ridges covered in rusty reds, and scattered peaks shadowed with ribbons of snow.  It would have been easier with ice axes, crampons, and backpacks- rather than tennis shoes and bike panniers- but we made do with what we had. Thus that hike sticks out in my mind as a favorite moment in Canada.

Aaron-

July 2

Canada is a wild place, and it is full of wild things. The story I want to tell is not necessarily my favorite story from Canada, but it is one that I still feel the excitement course through my veins as I begin to remember the details.

After climbing out of the Stikine river valley we were hungry and it was about lunch time so we decided to find a place in the shade to hang out and eat. Not but a few moments after sitting down we heard a rustle in the trees overhead. “What was that? A big bird, maybe a raccoon?” Then the powerful yet slinky silhouette of a Pine Marten emerged  from the leaves just above us. The Pine Marten is a member of the weasel somewhere between the wolverine and the mink in size. It spends most of its time up in the tree tops making a living on squirrels and songbirds. The sighting was so unexpected, like many wildlife sightings, that before I could fully realize the rarity of this encounter…it was over. Luckily, Sara and I were able to grab cameras for a few quick shots.

To give you an idea of how rare it is to spot one of these animals, I spent a whole summer studying the Fisher, a close relative of the Marten, and its habitat in California and never saw a single one.

Seeing something so amazingly agile, so strong and so wild reminds me of how important wild places are. We knew that choosing the Cassiar Highway was the remote option with less food refueling stations and rougher roads but we also knew that it would bring us more wildlife and wild times.

Alyssum-

July 10

As Aaron said, our route through Canada was the most remote section of our trip. We traveled through miles of forests, mountains, and endless lakes. People living here are used to the remoteness and their distance from other human beings. After crossing the Cassiar we headed east on the TransCanada highway towards the rocky mountains. Farmers were out bailing their hay and the occasional fisherman sat by the river.  One evening when we were pulled over at a rest stop talking  about where to cook dinner and camp, a local man, Keith, pulled over and before any sort of introductions he offered to have us camp in his yard. What good timing! We were shocked and extremely grateful. After brief introductions we took down directions to his house, found our way up the hill, and down a few forest service roads to what seemed like the only house for miles. At the end of his driveway he greeted us in front of his house. There was a beautiful garden full of salad greens, vegetables and all sorts of berries, a view of the river valley, and hundreds of acres of forests. That evening, to our surprise, we enjoyed the luxuries of showers, beer, and dinner outside in a shaded bug free gazebo. In the morning we caught the end of a Tour de France stage, enjoyed pancakes and even rode away with fresh vegetables from Keith’s garden.

July 3

People have been incredibly generous to us. Another memorable day was when were stopped in Bell II (along the Cassiar Highway) eating lunch and doing laundry. Unexpected rainy weather had brought a BC road construction crew inside as well, as they couldn’t work on surfacing the road in the rain. We chatted with them a bit as we waited for our laundry. They were happy to have the afternoon to relax even though they would be behind on work. They ended up offering us their government prepared lunches. We left with a bag full of extra food: sandwiches, apples, oranges, granola bars and best of all an Oh Henry! Candy bar. Thanks for your generosity!

Tommy-

July 26

We saw some fantastic scenery all throughout Canada. The Canadian rockies were so beautiful it became hard to bike more than 50 miles in a day, not because the climbing was too much, but because we had to keep on stopping just to take it all in. I think the pictures can tell most of those stories.

Some other moments are harder to get the full story with just a picture though. One of those moments was one of my favorite campsites on this trip. After battling a fierce headwind most of the day, we were haggard and ready for a place to gather our composure. The one problem was that the Canadian Rockies had just spit us out into the farm lands of the great plains on the east side. Finding a place to camp was going to be slim pickings. We pulled into the small town of Cowley to inquire about a good place to rest our bones. Sara happened to strike up a conversation with a local and he said “the gazebo would be an alright spot to sleep”. Sara then proceeded to ask whether we would get kicked out in the middle of the night by the local sheriff. Our new friend answered “it will be alright, just tell anybody that asks that the mayor said it was ok”. Sara then asked “are you the mayor?”  He answered “nahh but no one will know the difference”. With that we had a place to sleep in the gazebo.

It turned out to be a nice little city park, perfect for cooking and sleeping. It was a classic warm summer night and it sure felt good to be off the bike. Matt and I went for a walk to find some water and we ended up cruising the whole town. Most everybody seemed to be out either watering their garden or just hanging out on their porch. It was a great small town feeling! Other than the extremely close proximity to a railroad tracks it was a fantastic campsite that popped up out of nowhere.

There was also a bit of night entertainment when a cowboy in full suit, including a 10 gallon hat and cowboy boots (with spurs) rode by extremely fast on a bmx bike a few times. I think we all said to ourselves “now that’s something you don’t see every day!”

By Alyssum Cohen

So far this trip every day has been a celebration. We’re seeing many new places, meeting new people and finding surprises around each new corner. We joke and entertain ourselves with games like waving in unison to trucks and RV’s that pass us along the way or by writing rhymes to honor the bees and creatures that travel our route with us. At the junction to the Cassiar hwy from the Alaska Hwy we decided to follow our curiosity for the less traveled Cassiar Hwy south. We stocked up on food in Watson Lake then were on our way.

Right away we enjoyed open road without paint markings, where we could ride as though the road was one huge bike path. While we rode this section we celebrated three special events in a row – Canadian independence day (Candada Day), U.S. independence day (4^th of July), and crossing our 2000 mile marker.

On July 1^st, Canada day we found ourselves riding through some of the few unpaved sections left of the Cassiar hwy. It was some of the coldest weather we’ve experienced so far on the trip while the mountains surrounding us were getting a fresh powder coating of snow, we descended some steep gravel roadways to cross the river valleys, but otherwise the highway is in better condition than its reputation of rough unpaved road. As we rode we searched for people we might be able to celebrate Canada day with, but didn’t run into a soul. Around mid day we reached the small town of Iskut where we needed to stock up for the final five days of the Cassiar hwy and the longest stretch without services. At the small grocery store in Iskut we pooled our creativity to stock up on food that would keep us interested, provide us with enough calories and that we could still fit in our bags. That night we celebrated Canada day with Egg-drop soup and “oreos” we made ourselves.

4^th of July wasn’t the same without stars, stripes, fireworks and barbecue. We didn’t run into any firework stands, instead we celebrated along the road with a few sightings of black bears munching the shrubs along the road, views of coastal mountains and lunch by the lake. Every bear we saw was happily feasting away on the plants, when they noticed us they backed calmly back into the forest.

The next day we hit our 2000 mile marker for the trip. The sun came out, we saw more bears and celebrated with a relaxing lunch in a field of daisies.

by Tommy  Viducich

On the road, we meet a lot of people and they usually have a lot of questions. One of the most common questions we are asked is “how are you going to afford this trip?” It is a good question; a year spent travelling seems like a costly endeavor. The beauty of bike touring is that it can cost as much or as little as you want. We have met bike tourers who “credit card tour” which involves staying in motels and eating in restaurants, packing a credit card as their main luggage. We have also met bike tourers who have completed a cross country trek with nothing more than a couple of hundred bucks in their pocket. This usually involves camping for free and preparing all their own food. Both methods of bike touring work, the choice is solely based on the preference of the rider.

Our trip falls somewhere in between the two styles of riding. While we have not stayed in a motel yet, from time to time we find ourselves in a roadside diner where we splurge on an extravagant pancake breakfast. This involves multiple orders of omelets and pancakes that usually leave the waitress wide eyed and thinking “there is no way they will be able to eat all of that” (we usually leave thinking “I could have downed one more order of pancakes”).

Our biggest expense since we began the trip has been the above average amount of food we eat. In fact, about 90% of the money we have spent so far has been on food. We usually stock up at the local grocery stores. For dinner, we cook big pasta or rice and bean meals, for lunch we’ve been making peanut butter and jelly or egg sandwiches plus trail mix and for breakfast a large pot of oatmeal. We tend to eat pretty well!

The other big potential cost would be lodging. This is where we shine. From Arcata, CA to Bellingham, WA, we only paid for two nights of camping. The rest of the time we either stayed with friends/roadside acquaintances who were nice enough to open there homes (and showers) to five ragged bike tourers or, more commonly, we were able to camp out on forest service or other public land. Alaska and Canada has been so wide open that we have had no trouble finding places to camp. We are more likely to come across a bear than another human in one of our campsites. (Fun Fact: we have spent more money on cookies than on lodging and camping during this trip.)

After calculating the money we have spent so far, it has averaged out to be about $10 a day per person. If it takes us another year to finish bike49, I figure we will each spent another $4,000 on food, $1,000 on inevitable bike repairs, $1,000 or so on lodging (I anticipate more motels during the cold winter), and a little extra for various entertainment. Not too bad for a year long vacation!

by Aaron Viducich

It was something that Sara said to me a while ago that got me thinking.  She commented, “it’s interesting how you always remember a place that you have been by remembering a bird that you saw there”. I didn’t pay much thought to the remark, but later the significance of it donned on me. Yes this blog is going to be about birds, but don’t be scared away if you don’t know the difference between a Yellow-billed Magpie and a Ruby-crowned Kinglet, this story is about how I relate the world I’m experiencing with the creatures that are inhabiting it. I will however, include a trip bird list at the end for any fellow bird nerds.

Biking is a perfect way for me to travel and birdwatch at the same time. We move slow enough so that I can see the occasional bird in a roadside thicket, but even more importantly at biking pace I can hear many of the birds that are close to the road. It being springtime right now, the birds have a lot to say. We commonly stop at creeks and rivers (typically good bird habitat) and camp outside most nights. I have even heard a few owls!

For me, learning the local birds and occasionally getting a glimpse of their behavior is a great way to better understand the habitat that I am experiencing.  Birds become an avenue for me to learn about new places, and to learn new things about old places. I am always keeping my eyes open and my ears listening for birds, so it keeps me paying attention to all the things that are going on around me. This is where Sara’s comment comes into play. Because birds are such an important part of how I paint the pictures that become my memories, birds are a big part of how I recall places I have visited. Birds provide me with a constant source of things to learn, whether it’s a fresh habitat with all new birds, or I’m tracking down an elusive bird in a familiar place, they keep me on my toes. That is one of the things that attracted me to birding in the first place and now it seems that the more I learn, the more I realize that I don’t know much at all, and I find that exciting.

The trip has been great so far. We have traveled through some vastly different habitats. The trip started in the Pacific Northwest, where a lot of the birds are very familiar to me. The ferry brought us through the inside passage where I was lucky enough to spot a few fast flying sea birds. Now as we are pedaling south through the Boreal forests of Alaska and Canada, the birds are keeping me busy.  So far on this trip I have seen several species of birds that I have never seen before. As we head into the Rocky mountains, then down into the great plains and eastward, the list will grow as will my appreciation and understanding of the places we pass through.

Bike49’s Birdlist as of 7.5.2010

Common Loon

Western Grebe

Leach’s Storm-petrel

Clark’s Grebe

Horned Grebe

Brown Pelican

Pelagic Cormorant

Double-crested Cormorant

American Bittern

Great Blue Heron

Great Egret

Tundra Swan

Common Goldeneye

Wood Duck

Mallard

Gadwall

American Widgen

Northern Shoveler

Lesser Scaup

Ring-neck Duck

Surf Scoter

Canada Goose

Bufflehead

Common Merganser

Hooded Merganser

Ruddy Duck

Turkey Vulture

Bald Eagle

Osprey

Northern Harrier

White-tailed Kite

Cooper’s Hawk

Red-tailed Hawk

Red-shouldered Hawk

American Kestrel

Peregrine Falcon

Ruffed Grouse

Spruce Grouse

California Quail

Wild Turkey

Willow Ptarmigan

American Coot

Killdeer

Black Oystercatcher

Lesser Yellowlegs

Solitary Sandpiper

Spotted Sandpiper

Whimbrel

Wilson’s Snipe

Mew Gull

Ring-billed Gull

Bonaparte’s Gull

California Gull

Herring Gull

Glaucous-winged Gull

Western Gull

Arctic Tern

Common Murre

Pigeon Guillemot

Marbled Murrelet

Ancient Murrelet

Rhinocerous Auklet

Tufted Puffin

Rock Dove

Western Screech-Owl

Great-horned Owl

Northern Saw-whet Owl

Common Nighthawk

Belted Kingfisher

Vaux’s Swift

White-throated Swift

Black Swift

Anna’s Hummingbird

Rufous Hummingbird

Acorn Woodpecker

Nuttall’s Woodpecker

Hairy Woodpecker

Red-breasted Sapsucker

Northern Flicker

Olive-sided Flycatcher

Western Wood-pewee

Pacific-slope Flycatcher

Black Phoebe

Hutton’s Vireo

Casin’s Vireo

Warbling Vireo

Steller’s Jay

Western Scrub-jay

Gray Jay

Yellow-billed Magpie

American Crow

Common Raven

Barn Swallow

Cliff Swallow

Violet-green Swallow

Tree Swallow

Oak Titmouse

Black-capped Chickadee

Bush Tit

White-breasted Nuthatch

Red-breasted Nuthatch

Brown Creeper

Pygmy Nuthatch

Bewick’s Wren

Winter Wren

Wrentit

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

Varied Thrush

American Robin

Veery

Swainson’s Thrush

Hermit Thrush

Northern Mockingbird

Bohemian Waxwing

Cedar Waxwing

Orange-crowned Warbler

Yellow Warbler

Townsend’s Warbler

Common Yellowthroat

Wilson’s Warbler

Western Tanager

Black-headed Grosbeak

Spotted Towhee

Chipping Sparrow

Song Sparrow

Fox Sparrow

Savannah Sparrow

Dark-eyed Junco

White-crowned Sparrow

Golden-crowned Sparrow

White-throated Sparrow

Bullock’s Oriole

Western Meadowlark

Red-winged Blackbird

Brewer’s Blackbird

Brown-headed Cowbird

Red Crossbill

White-winged Crossbill

Pine Grosbeak

House Finch

Pine Siskin

American Goldfinch

Lesser Goldfinch

Evening Grosbeak

House Sparrow

European Starling

American Redstart

by Matt Schiff

Somewhere between Haines and Teslin we experienced the longest day of the  year – the summer solstice. Here are the happenings of that day.

12 am, the “War on Terror,” world domination game ends (surprisingly with world peace) and a new day begins. For some it’s bedtime but not for us yet.

It’s nice not to have jobs or a responsibility to be somewhere by 8:30 in the am. You can be hated for mentioning your “luckiness” among the wrong crowd. In the current situation we possibly inspire two of our Whitehorse hosts, Megan and Laird, to begin the discussion of quitting their jobs.

We gladly offer to help with garden watering duties, just a 5 minute walk to the community garden. When else will we take a stroll under midnight sun in the Yukon? (I enjoy the opportunity just to view homegrown peas, beans, fresh lettuces, and herbs.)

It’s a very raised bed system – good for the back – with the food at waist level.

Chris (another host) takes a portrait of us. It’s evident he’s had plenty of experience. (Just look at the “tack sharp” L-series canon glass.)

12:30 am, Aaron finds a kids bike to race around the neighborhood on. When the sun never sets kids get into no good, starting trouble in the neighborhood – hooligans if you will.

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Why is the longest day of the year not celebrated by more people? (Specifically our North American people.) I say we give at least one day to the planet. Sure, there is earth day, a pitifully arbitrary day the marijuana enthusiasts have cornered in on. Why not celebrate something that occurs physically in our solar system, biologically on earth, actually measurable? Yes! Celebrate the day the sun shines most on the northern hemisphere and is darkest on the underside. No, not 420 but 6-21 and 12-21. (And add the equinox as well if you’re pagan (Vinotok).)

If you give me the choice of a party, I’ll pass on new year’s, say no to alcohol on my birthday, but see no reason not to stay up all night hoola hooping, throwing fits, and drinking fire water when you have the daylight to do so, because this is earth day god dammit!

*please note: hoola hooping describes all kinds of fun and games one can choose to have in the wee hours of the night, I’ve outgrown my fits but you can have a good time by being outrageous, and have acquired a taste for Molson Canadian – the best the land has to offer (official supplier of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics.)

____________________________________________________________________________________

Back at the house there’s little to do but go to bed. The continual sleep deficits cause parts of us to crash – still barely keeping the whole system running. 7 hours of sleep on top of 7 hours of sleep on top of 7 hours; for our cycling routine it’s just not enough.

We’re awake just one hour too early again. I’ve talked up nap time for several days now. At some point I’m going for it.

Being the sophisticated, connected, responsible people that we are, we check our gmail, facebook, and scores from the world cup soccer games.

We say goodbye to our hosts and organize the best way to complete our shopping needs for the morning – bike parts, a water filter, and other miscellaneous supplies like sidewalk chalk, (used for leaving notes) – before we continue the next stretch to Teslin, YT.

Cadence Cycle is a bike shop out of someone’s house and has more character than most. There are all the parts a touring cyclist would need – no carbon fiber stems necessary.

Meeting back at the visitor’s center we find a couple unopened Budweisers that have been sitting longer than a courtesy 30 minute wait time. It’s deemed necessary to help out the local alcoholic and I stash them in my bike bag.

But one thing has been forgotten – pavement chalk. As a group we’ve begun to acknowledge our riding preferences and efficiently cover more ground by spreading out, stopping when we need to, and being more independent. We are 5 when we need to be and one when it’s time to eat. It ends up being a later start – 12 pm – but by no means too late.

After 2 hours Alyssum and I see colorful bags and a few half naked people on the far banks of river, unmistakably bike49ers. We meet again. A little lunch, a little bath, and we’re back on the road.

The next stop is a lakeside for me – time for cloud-gazing – but farther for the others. On my own I spend more time seeing the sights than making progress and ticking off miles, but I must eventually head off.

Chalked on the pavement is a 6:30 dinner sign. I wouldn’t want to miss that. I’d better be on time!

At a rest  stop we purchase an expensive celebratory six pack, giving perhaps half the money to the Canadian government. Alcohol is a heavily taxed item. Now, in our country…

We round the bend, exposing a range of sun-lite mountains, and use a bench cut perched above the road as our loft dinner spot. We hang the mosquito net and feast on 900 g of pasta from our balcony view.

With the heavy amounts of gnats, we cycle on, but find a forest spot soon. We duck in a seldom used road, hang some bear bags, and go to bed.

So wait! What about the anticipated party, watching the fall and rise of the sun? Our spot is a dense tinderbox filled with mosquitoes. We’re all tired; you can’t force it. There are clouds in the sky; it’s even darker than usual. We’ve had the day, spending most of it outside. Better to catch some sleep.

by Sara Dykman

I’ll start this story on a climb.  This climb was somewhere between Haines, AK and here.  A 290 mile (467 Kilometers for the Canadians) stretch of road.  Here, by the way, is a picnic area in the Yukon.  We didn’t make it far today as the rain halted us and this picnic area tempted us, but now I have some time to write this.  As for the climb, it was rather ordinary.  The grade was fair; the distance was short; and the shoulder adequate.  The climb is only special because I found a fish hook.

It is not unusual to stop on the road and find a treasure.  We have found electric tape, fabric, hats, gloves, etc.  Honestly I stopped because it was shiny.  I hooked the fishing hook on a break cable and pedaled off.  I figured it would come in handy. You just never know what situation you might find yourself in.

Allow me to jump back to just one situation, in Haines, AK.

After biking in the Pacific Northwest for a month it was great to be in new territory. I felt like our adventures were really beginning.  We went to the grocery store to stock up on three days of groceries.  There we ran into Paul.  Paul was a familiar face, an Arcadian bike mechanic up until a year ago.  He had moved to Haines and one of his many jobs was leading raft trips through the bald eagle preserve outside of town. Later when he invited us on a tour, we of course said yes!

So down the river we rafted.  Of course this was after a pancake breakfast (thanks Paul!) and a mountain hike (thanks Paul!). In our rafts we learned the ways of bracing for bumps and shuffling.  We needed to shuffle a lot as this Alaskan river was a braided river.  There was not one main channel but dozens of water alleyways.  This meant that the river stretch wide and that sometimes the water was shallow.  The shuffle was a bouncing dance that helped the dragging float move forward.  We rafted past bald eagles, grizzly bear tracks, and assorted shore birds.  I’ll admit, biking is fun, but a break from the bike is really fun.

But, let’s go back to the bike.  Leaving Haines we crossed into Canada after 44 miles of riding in our 4^th state (Alaska). It was straight up from Canada towards a 3,000 ft and something pass.  As we climbed, mountains framed our views.  The valleys of the mountains were filled with snow, transforming them into striped giants looming with the clouds.  Cliché or not, it was breathtaking (ha…pun intended).

We celebrated Aaron’s birthday on the pass.  We found the much talked about cabin/shack/cave castle and built a fire in the wood stove.  The stove came in handy a few times. We used it to warm up.  We used it to cook Aaron’s pineapple-mixed-in cake. AND the stove was a great excuse to split wood.  Yes, for the first time in my life, I split wood in the Canadian mountains with an 11pm sun.

And now we are back at fish hook climb, a three day ride from Haines.  After hooking my road booty to my bike the road continued to climb and fall; among lakes, past our first black bear, and into the town of Whitehorse.

In Whitehorse we stayed with Megan, Laird, and Chris.  We had met Megan and Laird on the road getting ready for their 160 mile bike race.  They completed the ride in one day! At their house we chatted (it is nice to talk to people other than bike49ers…no offense), played a world domination board game (world peace ended the game), ate spaghetti, and discussed our upcoming roads.

The next day we were on our upcoming road, and two days later we were in Teslin, YT.  This is when the fish hook came in handy.

We were eating a dinner of veggie burritos filled with lentils cooked in pickle juice and couscous, when we waved to Jean-Michel biking by. The wave sparked a conversation and before long our French Canadian friend was inviting us to go canoeing and catch a midnight fish snack.  Never turn down an invitation.

After a heated (but fair) round of rock-paper-scissors, it was determined that Matt and I would be canoeing the mighty Teslin River.  We paddled across the river to a rocky point and Matt dropped the hook and let out the line.  Nothing.  Nothing.  So we put my roadside fish hook on the line.  Nothing.  Nothing.  BAM!  Matt reels in a large Pike with the coaching of Jean-Michel.  That was our first pike, but that one was over the legal limit (over 30 inches must be released).

Next it was my turn.  I dropped the once successful, roadside hook into the water and Matt and Jean-Michel paddle the canoe.  Nothing. Nothing. BAM! Our second pike.  This time a keeper.  Less than 30 inches; we reeled her in, headed to shore, and before long we were cooking our pike on a fire.  Of course catching the fish and the canoeing was only half the fun.  The other half was talking with our new friend.  Jean-Michel is from Quebec, and traveled to the Yukon for a moose hunt/spontaneous chain of events. I can’t tell you exactly what lead him there, as his story (and most others) was a bit hard to follow.  I know for sure that he will be an emperor but doesn’t like slavery, loves fishing, and doesn’t like show offs.  He made our Teslin experience unforgettable.

So there you have it.  Haines to here (just past Teslin).  Approaching Haines, we had no idea that we would raft one river and canoe another.  We didn’t know we would meet Paul or Jean-Michel.  That is the beauty of this: a reminder to seize opportunities, try something new, and enjoy the spontaneity of travel.  So… climb a hill, find a fish hook, and go fishing.

Hello viewers, fans, family, and friends.

We’ve finished what we’ve been calling the first leg of our trip, Arcata, CA to Bellingham, WA. This distance took us four weeks. Some say that’s quick and others say we must have been poking around and taking our time. It’s about right for a bunch of average kids wanting to travel for 14 months on bikes and keep our cool.

In that time we’ve settled into our daily routine. One month into the trip and I’m not sure at what point the magnitude of what we’re going to do has sunken in. For me it really hasn’t. Maybe we’ve prepared for it so much by expecting to be on the road for over a year. But perhaps it’s the familiarity of the northwest that has kept the tour civilized, something you’d book with a tour guide.

As a part of our presentations we now give a summary of our trip so far. The pictures are all posted but the details need some filling in.

Our first week takes us through the familiar redwoods and into Oregon. The weather tends to be moist, in the 50s, but with a tailwind.

We experience high winds that stop us in our tracks at Humbug Mountain.

The ride though Oregon on 101 is known for its amazing coasts. It’s incredibly scenic, but somehow the beginning of the trip lacks adventure. We’re familiar with the northwest. There are towns every few miles. We’ve toured this way before. The grand adventure through has started.

Without planning each day of riding, we camp in unique spots. The night before our first classroom presentation in Myrtle Point, OR, we camp next to a beautiful forest just a few feet from an ATV trail. We find a burned cow or horse not far from where we camp. One evening we’re staring at a carcass and the next morning sharing our trip with 3^rd graders. The juxtaposing scenes are characteristic of a tour with a heavy dose of pirate camping.

We wrap up the week with a stay at Margret and Daniel’s place, playing music.

On our second week the road felt more heavily traveled and we were pushed away from the coast by dunes unsuitable for building on. It was turned into an ATV playground.

Somewhere around Dunes City, OR there was the first and really the only close call with a behemoth land barge of sorts, really our biggest danger of being on the road. Don’t worry mom. Wake up old timer behind the wheel!

We took the scenic way to Tillamook, biking on the three capes. There is more rain but more scenery. We decide to add on the miles in favor of the views. Each small hill makes us second guess our decision.

We bike to Seaside, OR, and in typical fashion make some last minute changes to our presentation. We speak to an art class for 20 minutes and spend the rest of the period drawing our dream commutes. We feel we make a connection with these 5^th-8^th graders, a group that’s not always easy to excite.  As a side note, many states across the country are experiencing budget cuts and unfortunately educational programs usually get axed. But art! How do you cut the art program?

By the end of the second week we arrive in Portland and tour the city with our friend, Aaron Antrim. Two days off from riding, but no real rest as we view the best the city has to offer, including Voodoo doughnuts.

By the end of the third week we’re in Seattle and the days are blending together. If you don’t journal sometimes the memories seem lost.

One night is spent on the Columbia River, watching barges go by.

The next is under a railroad bridge, but the romantic fantasy soon becomes annoyingly loud. The heavy rain soaks through the bridge and grease drips into our food and on the banjo and ukulele. The experience is worth it. There were few other options.

We travel to north to Tacoma and luck out finding a spot to camp as they are getting scarce closer to the city. It’s an old gravel mine, now overtaken with scotch broom. You can either hate invasives or enjoy them as worthy plants. As a group we’re split.

Our Washington presentation takes place on Vashon Island to groups of well behaved 5^th though 8^th graders. In fact, every 5^th grader on the island, attending private or public school, got to hear us speak.

In Seattle, the “Miss Jackson” house was our next home away from home.

The fourth week takes us to Bellingham where we catch a ferry to Haines, AK. Cheating!? I think not. We’ll ride 1800 miles through Canada to claim Alaska, the expected scenic leg of the trip.

On Whidbey Island I’m bored of cycling. Not in the way that makes me want to quit, but more of a feeling that I’d rather sleep for a few hours in the grass instead of push the pedals.

It must be the lack of adventure. We have it too easy with towns every day and a million choices for food. We live like kings and queens. We need to have the wind howl once again.

We pack like rats in Bellingham for the 3 day ferry, buying and cooking as much food as possible for the long journey.

We reach the 1000 mile mark and celebrate with the hordes of college students finishing the semester the same day.

Wow! We’re on the ferry, heading to Alaska, the last frontier. It’s a well explored frontier by now, but fewer people, fewer stops, more picture time, more daylight, cheated or slighted from nothing, the real deal.

By Matt Schiff

We’ve been on the road for 25 days but as time passes we’re feeling more and more disconnected from the outdoors. We hear fewer frogs in the evenings, birds in the morning, and rarely gaze at the stars. We are insulated from the outdoors – more so than the deafening that ear plugs provide. We’ve forgotten the old feel of camping and don’t know when it’ll come back. These aren’t delusions but simply the facts. We have been taken in by generous friends and strangers along our trip, and pampered with good food and warm places to stay. We are so gracious for these homes away from home.

We began our trip with a bit of rain and camped out until we had a nice stay in Coos Bay, OR, at Margret and Daniel’s place, home of the Myrtle Point school teacher. We had a great tortilla and bean dinner, with other toppings piled high. After dinner we played some music and realized Daniel plays the banjo and actually wrote a book on traditional minstrel banjo playing. This was perfect because Aaron brought a mini banjo and has been learning to play on this trip. It was a treat great to have Daniel play a few songs and show Aaron the claw hammer strumming pattern.

Later in the month we made a great Facebook connection with Beth, a friend Alyssum knew from college. It turned out Beth was casually checking Facebook, read about our ride, and put it out there that we could stay at her place. Little did she know we were going to pass through there in a couple of days. With the rain we’d been having, we were glad to have a place to stay in Tillamook, OR.  She fixed us soup and a chicken casserole that was so good it made us wish we hadn’t stuffed ourselves with cheese and bread just an hour earlier at the [Tillamook] cheese factory. That night it rained hard and steadily, making us thankful we hadn’t been in tents.

Our next housing accommodation was with our friend from college, Aaron Antrim. We cruised into Portland, fighting rain showers, the autos on Hwy 26, and among ourselves. Two weeks into our trip and we were getting truly tired for the first time. Aaron has a one bedroom apartment but we didn’t need any more room to sleep, fix some great meals, and dry some wet gear. It was great to see an old friend in a new city, but somehow we left feeling we needed a rest day.

There are parts of the U.S. that remain unknown to many, including us. Washington State hosts a whole slew of islands to the west of the mainland. Our next destination was Vashon Island. Here we had another school presentation and place to stay, made possible by Alyssum. With a name as foreign and mythical as Vashon, we joked is might be a nudist colony, and we might have to learn a new language to speak with the natives. It was slightly disappointing but neither was true. On the other hand, we stayed at Rob and Joanna’s place, Alyssum’s aunt and uncle. Their farm (Plum Forest Farm) is a spectacular place in the center of the island where we met her brother Shane and a couple of nieces as well. Shane gave us a tour of his yurt he and his wife built and played music for us.

We cooked pizza, rice, and cookies over our two day stay, supplemented with fresh vegetables from the farm. We enjoyed meeting more people from Alyssum’s family and really had a great time connecting with them on shared passions.

At this point, staying at houses became a gluttonous habit, rather than a unique exception. Granted we didn’t sleep inside on Vashon, but having a kitchen to cook in and a place to stay made it feel like we were at home. Our next stay was in Seattle, a place Sara and Aaron had lived in while planning the route to this trip. It was like old times for them to come back and see the same roommates that had been there a year ago. The “Miss Jackson” house is rich with musical talent, creative thinkers, and just all around friendly folks. We had what was perhaps our first real rest day. I slept most of one day until 4 pm. We had a great potluck dinner before we left, complete with after-eating music and viewing of some of Stephon’s short movie animations.

Day 23 and we’re on Whidbey Island. We expected to camp just after the ferry; we were rested and dry. Our bikes draw some attention and they’re great for conversation starters. We chatted with some folks and told them where we were going. Off the ferry we stopped to look at a map. We weren’t lost but our map was a little too general. A friendly driver stopped to help, realized she took pity on us – probably all wet and cold – and decided the best option was to invite us over to her place for a dry spot to stay. We didn’t mean to falsely advertise, but told her when we got to her house that we weren’t really wet or cold, and had mostly stayed indoors the past few days. All the same, Dyanne and Jean were pleased to offer us an office with a king sized futon for us to stay in! Not bad at all. Over dinner Diane discussed her career and interests with us and made recommendations for what we might want to pursue in our field of study after the trip is over. The two shared their experiences on the road with us and had some stories to tell. In the morning we casually made our oatmeal and set off, amazed at our good luck.

Now in Bellingham, we’re under a roof once again. Actually, it’s two roofs and two next door neighbors who have offered to take us in. We’re at Bob and Marty’s, and Janet and Fritz’s house, a couple of complete strangers who we happened to be staying with through a friend of a friend. Here we met two families, two neighbors, and had a traditional pasta feast. It just so happens, one of the sons will leave on a cross country bike trip to Ohio in a couple of weeks and we were able to share some of our knowledge of touring with him.

Just one day until we take the ferry to Alaska and I’ve decided I don’t like rain, don’t like camping, and prefer eating indoors. This was never the case but now my tastes have changed. You’ve done this to me – you kind people – with your generosity. I’ve acquired a taste for things that corrupt my bike touring experience, so I must stop now and choose between two paths.

More seriously, we’re collecting, storing, banking our comfortable stays in preparation for Alaska and the Canadian Rockies, where maybe the memories of these finer times will help us through weather and whatever other adverse conditions­ we may experience.