Category: Bike

Ryan Anderson’s journey around the world on two wheels! Discover thrill of adventure cycling, explore captivating stories, stunning photos, and practical tips from my global bicycle tours.

Thermal Hotbed Shelter Riders

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The morning riding to Rotorua Eal had an empty stomach, I was trucking on P+J sarnies again but still welcomed the unexpected cafe along the narrow highway which we were riding along with some morning traffic. I managed to briefly speak to my dad over a bad line to wish him happy birthday, 10am New Zealand time is 10pm back home so I caught him just before bed.

We hit some back roads for the second half of the ride through blueberry wine country, which I passed up trying. A great downhill through dense forest brought us out on the edge of Lake Rotorua, nice and flat to the town centre where we located the backpackers in town we had reserved. The town is situated on a thermal hotbed, strong sulphur smells waft through the air which takes some adjustment.

We spent an extra day in Rotorua to take in some of the local walking trails the town had to offer around the lake and local thermal activity. We also visited a Maori village, unfortunately we missed one of the daily shows, however walking round the village was still interesting enough. Away from the town centre Rotorua is transformed into a colourful blooming wonderland, a really beautiful place. At the backpackers in town we had been cooking big meals in the large kitchen area and had a great talk with a Scottish dentist currently travelling who had lots of tips for the south island.

The lodge handed out a coupon for each guest to get a $1 wine at a local bar. Me an Eal visited later that evening, it was a great place with live band on. We asked for the house red BEFORE brandishing our coupons, I doubt we would have received such a generous glass full otherwise. Rotorua was a good choice, pronounced Ro-taw-ua, unlike elsewhere in the country for some reason they roll the second ‘r’. Additionally I learned that in New Zealand ‘wh’ is spoken as an ‘f’, for example Whangarei is pronounced Fangarei, odd.

Leaving town we were unexpectedly treated to a bike path which would keep us off the main highway for around 10 miles. The scenery was so spectacular I was having a hard time getting any miles done stopping every quarter mile to marvel and take pictures of the hills and fields surrounding me. Bang on route was the ‘Thermal Wonderland’ Wai O Tapu. A leaflet I picked up in Rotorua depicted yellowstone-esque pools that seemed to good to miss. They charge $30 at the entrance . It seemed very excessive, natural wonders should be free, or at least a very small fee to support maintenance if it will enhance the experience. It was a decent 3km walking loop, comparing it to Yellowstone is probably the difference between Flamingo Land and Disney land though.

Afterward we rode on to Reporoa where I scored a dairy fix with some great ice cream, so good I immediately returned to the store for seconds, the lady gave me extra big scoops to satisfy me. We finished the ride in Taupo, the town by Lake Taupo, camping at a holiday park. A sunny Friday evening it filled up quickly with families and many BBQ’s going strong. I felt like a grandad getting in my tent at 9pm as kids were still running riot full of beans. Sleepyhead.

Waking to rain pattering on my tent I wasn’t sure I was ready to get up. We have hardly had a morning since May we have had to wake and pack in rain. It didn’t stop and was only getting heavier. After loading up quickly we hit town for breakfast and managed to put off hitting the road as long as possible. Soaked within seconds of riding I could feel the squelch in my shoes everytime I pushed down on.

To paint a mental imagine of us riding on highway 1, if you have ever seen a huge lorry plough through a puddle creating a wave of water that drenches a pedestrian, we were that pedestrian been sprayed over and over again. At a cafe about 30 miles in I was already thinking Turangi, just halfway through our intended mileage, would be a good option for the day. Eal obliged and we pulled into the town 13 km later to find the information centre which pointed us in the direction of the A Plus Samurai lodge backpackers.

What an awesome little place it was! Tucked away in the back streets of the small town, the complex was comprised of several small buildings each of which had unique and quirky artwork on the inside and the outside. It was a family owned place and Ian the owner was very funny. I spent that night in the lounge area by the fire with all the other guests, super warm and comfortable in a big old armchair.

The following morning the forecast looked grim again, ‘The Big Wet’ as New Zealand news is reporting it with more gale force winds coming. I had asked Ian the previous night if people had trouble leaving the place and now I was. I quickly decided to stay another day and Eal was keen on the idea of cooking up a Sunday dinner. The lodge makes for great people watching, the current crop consisted of Germans, Slovenians, Israelis and Indians.

On the evening I found myself flanked by Ian’s 2 kids Jackson and Sarah. We laughed and joked around all night. I looked around the rest of the filled room and wondered why they had picked me out for fun. I had a happy realisation that all the years growing up with younger brothers, they were similar age to Will, had given me a special ability to connect and entertain with them effortlessly which they were extremely receptive to. I was happy to make them laugh given it was a Sunday which marked the end of the long NZ school holidays, first day back for them tomorrow!

Trans-Hemispheric

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The flight from SFO to AKL was only 12 hours, it always surprises me how quickly you can reach a completely different part of the world. Arriving 5:30am New Zealand time, it was still dark and wet outside. Riding bikes from Auckland airport to hostel was out of the question, so we  squared some transportation. Waking up in San Fran 6am one morning not really sleeping on the plane and now it was 6am again, we were tasked with staying awake another full day too avoid a bad sleep pattern. It was tough work and we both flaked out around 8pm.

We spent a few quiet days around Auckland and particularly one of the inner city suburbs, Ponsonby, getting over jet lag. After so many months in the USA it almost felt like a return to home. The streets, cars, buildings looked similar and people are just generally a little British in nature. One thing we immediately miss however is our American IPA’s, NZ beer selection leaves a lot to be desired, however this is countered by the return of all my favourite cadbury’s chocolate bars and use of the term “cheers mate” is again acceptable to use without somebody giving me a look of bewilderment. Not to forget sarcasm can be used mid-conversation without acknowledgement or explanation, just like home. 🙂

One thing I love about being on a loaded bike is that EVERYBODY talks to you. Having spent a few days back as plain clothed Ryan it felt good to be lycra clad and hitting the road again. Nobody was all that talkative in the hostel until I was stood in reception bags,bike and all ready to leave, then I chatted with each passing backpacker. I was particularly pleased to have one girl ask excitedly if I was from Newcastle, close enough and happy in the knowledge my accent is intact. I left pumping tyres until outside the Hostel only to find my rear was somehow punctured, start time delayed 30 minutes.

Navigating away from Auckland was simple, hit the bay and follow the bike path for 10 miles. The towns gradually became smaller and more rural until we were out in the sticks, again with a decidedly British feel and smell! Cows, sheep and manure mmmm. However, just as you think the landscape looks familiar I have quickly learned New Zealand will throw you a curveball. Sheep grazing on a field one corner will turn into a temperate rainforest scene the next and then to a thermal pool or geyser. It makes for fascinating riding, the variety has me excited to see what else is out there.

After camping at Orere point we set out early along the coastline, what struck me is that along a bay which would normally be built up with million dollar homes, there were fields of cattle grazing, lucky meepers. It was a short fairly uneventful ride to the town of Paeroa where the camping option listed on our map was difficult to find. At the information centre the only camping they knew of was an overnight parking area on the edge of the public domain. Not strictly for tents we pitched up regardless. Some local kids, up past their bedtime, came over inquisitively and threw questions at me like “Do you have grass in England?” and “What rugby team do you support?”. Funny lads, who enjoyed the pictures of USA on my camera and insisted on striking aggressive poses for their commemorative snap.

From one Pacific coast to another…

Apparently it rained in the night, being at the base of a small hill the water had ran down underneath our tents. It managed to seep through my bottom sheet and create a small puddle INSIDE my humble abode. Wet tents are nasty to roll and heavy to carry, yuck. We devoured breakfast in town then hit the road on a super fresh, ever-brightening morning, its springtime in New Zealand at the moment, by switching hemispheres we have skipped Autumn and Winter, not sure how I feel about that yet. Is it possible to miss scraping the ice of my car on those dark frosty mornings, driving with one hand under my shirt until the heating kicks in…?

The roads are fairly narrow in NZ (and yes for a certain somebody they use ZED here not ZEE ;-)…) with limited to no shoulder, but a country the size of the UK, with only around 4.5 million people, traffic is always light. We took a pitstop in Te Aroha by the public domain, their name for town parks. It was a great recreation area, very well kept, with spa pools harnessing the local geothermal activity, bbq areas and a short walk trail up into the hillside which we spent some time on.

Continuing on mainly back roads and treated to some spectacular waterfalls as we rode alongside a small mountain range, we arrived at Okorie Hot Springs Hotel which was part of a golf course complex but most importantly had a small camping area. The kiwi running the place informed us of a $5 roast on offer in the lounge area from 6pm. Too good to miss, we joined all the other locals in what was a popular spot. It had the feeling of a working mens club back home, only rugby on the TV, great people watching. Next to the camp field there was a river flowing down toward the hot pool area which was closed for the evening but the walking track beside it took you into a magical forest area where I plodded around for a good hour, amazing and free!

I had this song in my head…

 

O’er The Land Of The Free, My Thanks To Thee

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I found myself in Eureka, CA on a bright crisp morning leaving Arcata. Home to the funkiest fairytale buildings, they almost look edible. From here we would leave the coast for a while and make our way inland and thankfully back to the warmth away from the brisk coastline.

At a lunch stop in the charming town of Ferndale me and Eal both ordered the Gardenburger, it was incredible. The most perfect sautéed tomatoes and onions with a pesto spread on the underside of the bun. Thinking of the burger joint in Fargo with Flavia, this cafe should advertise its veggie options as “So good meat eaters will choose them.”

The heat came straight after lunch, back to shorts and short sleeve jersey. We entered the Avenue of Giants early evening, a 25+ mile stretch of quiet redwood highway, amazeballs. Hiker/biker camping in the state park was busy again, Eal had given me all coins for the deposit packet which I then found made it too fat to fit in the deposit box, I left it by the office instead.

I left early the next morning having agreed a destination with Eal, I generally wake up early and Eal likes to get trucking later so recently when the directions have been straight forward we have been riding separately for most of the day. To make things simpler for myself I stuck with the 101 which was shouldered well if a little busy. Mornings are chilly but by 10am I am stood by the road, bike perched on a sign, stripping down to my kecks and fishing out shorter attire from my bags. Very amusing for the passing cars to see my pasty white torso, especially for the ones that slow down, you’ve seen it all before love.

The first few town stops still had a major hippie invasion with the aforementioned marijuana harvest about to go down, most were friendly but some characters seemed shady looking to blend in and make a quick score. I wasn’t very comfortable leaving my bike outside stores with my flimsy lock and had to be quick with transactions. One guy told me he would ‘watch’ my bike before I went to get a drink, he was friendly enough and we talked a while. He was making his way down to San Diego and asked if I could spare any money for food. I happily gave him all the shrapnel weight out of my wallet. Not long left in the country and I probably wont shift those coins. He was buzzing, nay bother lad.

I was going to have lunch in the town of Leggit, on arrival I found the gas stations and cafes all shutdown so had to make do with P+J sanga’s before tackling the 2 huge climbs. I love climbing when its like this though, short steep climbs tend to irritate me but I find great peace of mind in these long traversing pinches of several thousand feet. Sweaty work though, looked like I had taken part in a 1 man wet T shirt comp. After the second of the big climbs I was thrown out onto the coastline again to chilling sea air, its cold magnified by the sweat on my skin. Jacket on I located the hiker/biker campspot on a beach cliff edge. Eal turned up shortly after, pitched, ate. Sleeping that night I kept waking thinking I was being swallowed into the sea. If you imagine the foot of my tent was sloped down towards the waves 50 feet below which crashed loud as thunder. Yikes.

The light was amazing breaking camp, hitting out over my shoulder as it rose from the east (Sun sets in the West for those who forget ;-)…) I had to remember to look back now and again. I noticed what I thought was a cat on the roadside up ahead, I screeched on my breaks when I realised there would be no cats knocking about in this area. It was twice the size of a domestic with an almost leopard like coat. I looked it in the eye whilst trying to unzip my bag and grab the camera, when it shot like a bolt into the bush. I later found it was a little lynx which are present around here. Look them up, incredible animal, no pictures so if you want to see one in the flesh you will just have to come out and ride for yourself.

The morning was glorious the afternoon not so much. Deep fog rolled in which made certain stretches of narrow road and bridges quite scary with the local log trucks seemingly in a rush to make deadlines. Then some brutal switchback climbs did their best to beat my seasoned yet tired limbs. We rolled up to a KOA camp, normally ignore because of high prices but being on the coast this one offered a biker rate to compete with state parks, magical and overdue hot shower followed by a heart warming gesture by an old couple who we talked with by the front office on arrival. They had sent a worker on a golf cart to our plot with an envelope wishing us well and $20, the cost of our camp. No signal and I needed to make some calls so had to trek in foggy darkness away from the campground where I was told reception was stronger, I lost count of how many times I tripped over branches but made it back safe as houses.

Fog seems to be set in for good at the moment, leaving camp again to the same old narrow roads and close shaves with traffic. I really wasn’t feeling the ride. Eal was up ahead an neither had breakfast so I was surprised to see he had passed up the first cafe a few miles in, I continued expecting him to be by the next one, he wasn’t so I stopped anyway hoping the sun might come up and burn through a little. It still hadn’t made much impression by the time I left so up and over the coastal bluffs I went, only escaping the suffocating cloud when I rose above them onto a high lookout point.

Scary descents followed back into fog, we were joined at camp that evening by Tim from Maine, and older guy who I had seen at breakfast. He had put down 100 miles that day in what was incredibly tough terrain, kudos.

Managing to scout out coffee and a cooked breakfast was essential on yet another foggy bone chilling morning. This would be the last days riding in the USA, destination for the evening was with John & Jessi, friends of Flavia’s in San Francisco. Judging by surroundings it was hard to see that is where we would end up. The riding was pretty glum, not a thing to look at accept cardboard brown grass with annoying short hump climbs and rough road that made riding feel like I was treading water. Mentally I was beat this morning, possibly a little fatigued and under-slept. Whatever it was I stopped for second breakfast just 15 miles in looking for and answer in the bottom of a coffee cup which was shortly followed by a pesto twist from the adjoining bakery. Somewhere between there, grabbing some wifi and just chilling out contemplating the last few months riding across the USA again I hopped back on my bike and started riding. I’ve road bikes long enough to know the road will take care of the rest and it did! The sun came out and the town of Point Reyes made for a delightful lunch stopover. In the afternoon me and Eal rode together for the last stretch, something we haven’t done for a while.

Drawing ever close to San Fran, in Marin county traffic picked up, stop signs every 50 yards made for slow progress. We meandered along several bike paths happily acknowledging our recent milestone just as the golden gate bridge came into view. Crossing it was thrilling, the wind, bustling traffic, outlook over the bay, fog, a movie script ending. We navigated toward downtown as I pedalled with phone on google-maps in one hand as the Garmin wasn’t playing nice. John had told us he would be taking part in a Critical Mass bike ride and we could meet at his apartment afterwards  Well we rode right into the ride, a congregation of hundreds of cyclists on this a special anniversary for the event which literally takes over the streets grinding cars to a halt. The most surreal, bizarre yet perfect end to the USA tour.

We had a few days at J & J’s  to organise bikes, bags, Auckland accommodation and just generally rest the legs and soak in our last few days in the Northern Hemisphere. It was a very retrospective time, I thought about all the wonderful people I had stayed with, the incredible generosity and hospitality afforded to me once again. The bad towns to the good towns, the baron places to the beautiful vistas. From Massachusetts to California via a whole heap of incredible summer and not forgetting meeting Flavia, my absolute highlight of the ride and another friend I will cherish dearly until we next meet, which I am already excited for, the same goes for Joe C Meyer and Coop! Days on the bike are so highly concentrated with physical and mental exertion whether it be my poor thighs sluggin’ up a hill or my eyes taking a million pictures with every blink in each new town or landscape. You can sometimes forget to take a step back and soak it in. That’s why afterwards I find experiences like this are best shared.

Toodle-pip USA! I’ll be back again or maybe you can come visit me?

Low And High Tides

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Today started without breakfast as I was out of food supplies but knowing Dune City was just 4 miles up the road I had planned on an early cafe stop and shop. Mistake. Dune city did not have the provisions listed on the map and now I had another 16 miles to go without food, 20 in total. I was already Hank Marvin when I woke up so this did not make me a happy bunny. Thankfully a road marking along the way kept me going.

I passed through the ghost town of Gardiner before entering Reedsport where I would finally have breakfast. These places were grim and in stark contrast to the previous Oregon towns so far. I know not everywhere can be shiny, happy and affluent but these places just seemed to be decaying. The type of place that only the industry workers would live, but the industry had died. It was inland on the small river bays away from the glorious coastal views I had been accustomed too recently. The sky was grey, the buildings were grey, I think the air was even grey.

My mood wasn’t helped too much when I arrived in North Bend, coming over the bridge into town a guy in a blue pickup drove up on the white line and shouted at me for riding on the bridge, I was furious. Needing to regroup I located some coffee, disaster struck as my handlebar bag, unbalanced, fell sideways knocking my 16oz on the floor to surrounding public amusement. I felt like calling it a day and I stayed in North Bend until 3pm with 30 very hilly miles to go. The ACA maps had you come off 101 which seemed strange and go over Seven Devils Road, a Devil for each of the steep climbs to overcome. When I arrived at the biker camp in Bandon I was cyclist number 10, not much in the mood for chat I bought some Floridian cyclists beers then hit the hay.

I woke up with renewed enthusiasm the following morning and hit the road super early for a nice breakfast with options assured in Bandon. I parked my bike on the side of a cafe so Eal would see it, the women came out screaming she had just planted things on that patch, just looked like sand! Dragging my bike off with the rear wheel still locked I had tangled the cable up between cassette and spokes. 10 minutes and filthy hands later it was removed but I didn’t feel like eating breakfast there any more so found another spot.

After I started riding I heard a huge pop, a flat tyre. Huge rooftacs had been sprinkled in the shoulder, nasty. I caught up with Eal to find he had a flat from the same things, his first in the US. He managed to get a second heading into the next town from a staple then a third shortly after and I a second. 5 flats!! In Port Orford I saw a genuinely homeless cyclists with a dog and sign that said ‘Any food helps’. Looking to the cycling gods for mercy I road over to him and gave him my freshly restocked bread, peanut butter and jam. He was ecstatic and shared it with his buddies, we talked briefly before I hit the library. I was feeling chirpy again and read a great email of Flavia which helped immeasurably, still missing her being around and probably why I have struggled to see the brighter side in situations as normal the past day or so. That afternoon things did pick up, I ignored ACA today and stuck with the 101, wide, clean and flat shoulder :-).

In Gold Beach we met with a guy called Clifford riding the coast. He said the RV Park appeared closed and we decided to split a cheap motel room 3 ways.

Clifford up and left early the next morning to tackle the nasty looking climbs between here and Crescent City. The ride would take us into our final state, California. I was looking forward to seeing what northern California had to offer having covered just about every other inch of the state south of  Sonoma. What I found was a more rural California, charming and pretty country roads that could be mistaken for France and as many blackberries as you could shake a stick at. I gorged on them throughout the day. Clifford reconvened with us  at the campsite, a wonderful spot right on the beach. Sea Lions barked all night long but its hard to get angry at those goofy guys.

Waking to a sopping wet tent from the wet mist that was tumbling in from the ocean we all packed up, fingers numb. I had almost every layer of riding gear on which is saying something, I’m usually good with cold. I had visions of Flavia riding in her sleeping bag, holes through the bottom for her legs. The road out of Crescent City was an instant climb of around 1500 feet. Within half a mile I had stopped and stripped down to just jersey, amazing how quickly you can warm up.  It was Eals birthday! and at the top of the climb was a great wooden lodge cafe where I bought him a special birthday breakfast. The entire morning was spent riding through huge redwoods, my lense isn’t wide enough to do them justice but they were phenomenal, I inhaled lung after lung of the warm bark smell

Destination for the evening was Arcata where we would be taking a day off tomorrow in the small college town which had been recommended to us by a few people. The roads at time in the afternoon was nothing more than single lane of crumbling sand and rock, cars were still driving on it. Getting annoyed with ACA we jumped back on the nice wide shouldered 101 and hit town. To our dismay we pulled up in front of the motel we had reserved to see it completely shutdown. Apparently it had moved and the address not updated everywhere. We found it and had a few beers and then ice cream from Arcata scoop where Flavia had told us to visit. We found the following day she had left card details and our descriptions so we would get some free ice cream, best girl! Unfortunately they realised at the point of purchase they were missing a zip code. The gesture alone was sweet enough though.

The day off in Arcata was spent doing laundry, grocery shopping then hitting town in the afternoon to check out the campus, go hippy watching at the town plaza, of which there were hundreds in town and hit the brewery. A quirky place for sure, we later found it was the marijuana harvest coming up so they congregated here yearly to pitch in, funny.


Pacific Coasting

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After hopping off the train at Kelso we road a short 20 miles that evening to a campground, it was dead, the water was not drinkable and I didn’t bother with a shower, still feeling down after Seattle I slid into my tent early and went to sleep, not an easy night. The next day would see us finally hit the coast in the town of Astoria. The place has lots of history particularly in film, being the location of The Goonies, Free Willy and a long list of others. Around the docks in town you can find hordes of Sea Lions chilling out making their goofy sounds, great watching. I also realised how difficult it is to tell Seals and Sea lions apart. The easiest way to know is if they have ear holes or ear flaps, the latter being a Sea Lion like the lad featured in my picture below. There all Pinnipeds regardless.

The salt in the cold sea air instantly triggered thoughts of home, fish & chips for lunch, no mushy peas unfortunately. The route took us inland slightly before bringing us back out into a beach town a mile away from the campground for the evening so we decided to hang around in town a while before finishing up for the night. After a hot shower I sat in the steamy room for a good 30 minutes with my phone plugged in so that I could get some charge to make calls.


We emerged from our tents tents and checked the breakfast situation the next morning on the maps. Cannon Beach wasn’t too far away so we could ride until then. It was a very well pointed postcard town, I had the best pastry breakfast, bear claw + dohnut. The towns main attraction was the rock haystacks that stood out in the sea, after making our way down some steep hills for beach access I took my shoes off and waded along the sand to get a closer picture.

Magnificent riding all day, just how I had remembered from my days riding on the Oregon coast previously. Steep climbing up high onto the cliffs always rewarded by stunning overlooks. We ended the ride in Pacific City, almost a carbon copy town of Cannon beach. Spectacular sunset sat outside a small brewery whilst playing fetch with a dog. Lifes a beach.

From Pacific to Newport the pattern was much the same, blessed with tailwinds and sunshine. Impossibly perched homes on top of rugged cliff-tops, the waves crashed up a hundred feet with every swell, simply epic riding and clear enough to pretend you could see Japan.

The Oregon state parks along the coast are great, all $5 for bikers with a guaranteed spot and hot showers. By the time we had arrived in Newport hit the brewery and made our way to the park a heavy sea fog had rolled in. Cold, damp night ahead. A guy pitched next to us came over to let us know he was getting up at 4am for work and apologised in advance in-case he woke us up, strange. Too bad for him some kids disco that night raged on until around 10, the kids sliding on there knees type. He was trying to go for kip around 8pm, hard lines pal.

Super cold morning with the fog still lurking around. Looking at a 2-3 day plan on the maps to see what towns line up it was nice to find today would be a short 45 miles to Florence. A special place for me, that’s where I finished the TransAm. So I raced on ahead so I had some time to spend in the nice historic district.

I had lunch at a small bakery then went to the cosiest coffee shop right on the river to get some long overdue blog action going. Eal found me several hours later as the heart palpitations from too much caffeine began to kick. We rolled up the road a few miles to another state park biker spot amongst a huge circle off trees. Later that evening we were joined by and older guy from Maine and an Irish guy who I think was pretty drunk, unless he was just generally bleary. Camp notices mentioned a recent bear in the park so no food in tents, in the middle of the night some mammal snagged itself on my rear tent rope tugging it downwards, not bear sized though, more like fat raccoon  Still had me eyes wide open for a good hour with held breath before I nodded off again.

Florence Flashback #1

Portland & Seattle Rest Up

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After so many weeks riding bikes the next would be spent taking time off to drink some brews eat good food and have fun with friends. Pretty much the same as whilst riding then just without all that pedal action. The previous evening after arriving and showering up we all went to see Helio Sequence in downtown, Portland natives who me and Eal have both liked for a while.

The first rest day in Portland, we spent most of the day at the St Johns farmers market, first eating from the vendors then helping pack up. Emily had arranged a Saturday evening BBQ with lots of people coming for what was a great night with the game of cornhole, handbuilt by Stefaan, proving to be the main attraction. No other game can boast technical phrases like  ‘sliding hole woody’ for point scoring.

I had the bike taken care of by a local shop ready to be picked up Monday, just a middle chain ring needing replaced. We had a great few days spent almost exclusively in the St Johns neighbourhood becoming temporary citizens to the point we couldn’t walk down Lombard without being greeted by a bunch of new friends we had made. Including Kim and Derek owners of The Olive & Vine shop who invited us round their place Sunday evening for dinner after Derek had just being victorious in a dance off at local bingo! I immediately connected with Derek when he told me of the years he had spent studying in York, so close to home! He spent time travelling via rail during his time, so was very familiar with Darlington, Newcastle even Scarborough. The latter he was able to say in the most perfect Teesside accent, “Scarbrah”. So funny.

Whilst in Portland I had booked some train tickets to head north for Seattle so we could spend some time with Flavia, she had just arrived herself! Good job Flavvy! We rode to the Amtrak station which allowed bicycles in the luggage cart for an extra $5. Portland is actually only a days ride from the coast but we are in no hurry to see the Pacific as we will have just under 1000 miles of riding down the coast to San Fransisco after Seattle.

I was beyond excited to see Flavia again, she met us at the station with her super happy face I have missed so much since Whitefish. We rode back to her sisters apartment where we will all be staying. The next few days in Seattle Flavia gave us the guided tour of the city she grew up in, its great to see a city via bicycle. We crammed so much into our few days it would take a while to list everything we did so the pictures can tell their own story. We decided we would take a train down to Kelso and then ride out to the coast from there leaving Seattle.

I found saying goodbye to Flavvy at the train station incredibly difficult not knowing when we will meet again especially as I head to the southern hemisphere in a few short weeks. I had a lump in my throat as the train pulled away, it felt like my heart had been pressed through a mangle, I was overcome this way as I road away from my Mums back in May but I can scarcely think of another situation other than bicycle touring in which you could know somebody for just a few weeks and get so close. She will always be a very special friend and one that I’m grateful to serendipity for throwing my way. Thank you for putting yourself out on Guffy in the middle of nowhere USA Flavia, total adoration. The world needs riboflavin ryeboflavin so a future meet is not desire its a requirement. Miss you lots like jelly tots.













In Meriwether’s Footsteps

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From Kooskia we rode out on highway 12, not strictly the best way for bicycles and certainly not the way adventure cycling would have you go. Labor day traffic was making its way home too so lots of trailers and boats that got close enough to almost make me look like Vincent Van Gogh.

It was still great riding along the same Columbia river that carried Lewis & Clark with the rest of the corps of discovery and trying to picture there faces as we carved around each bend, happy just to have mountains at their back I guess. We arrived in the aptly named twin towns of Lewiston, ID and Clarkston, WA which marked our first entry into Washington state. We killed some hours in town so not to arrive at the campsite too early which was a further 6 miles down river. We were joined that night by 2 more cyclists who split the cost of one space with us to make it a cheap deal all round. Showers took quarters, 50 cent for 3 minutes. I was done in 2 which taught me how efficient I can be, fast hands.

We had a scheduled date to arrive in Portland to make a concert in a few days time so the ride from Clarkston to Walla Walla would be the first in a series of 85+ mile days. This meant we were reliant on the winds being favourable, our maps described them in this area as often being fierce from the west, luckily they were straight out of the east, thank you cycling gods.

Walla Walla is pretty much the US capital of onions, it was tangible in the air and visible in the fields. The only onions we would be consuming that night were the ones laden atop our pizza, I couldn’t verify whether they were local. All I know is there should be Wallabies in Walla Walla.

The scenery along the gorge which we joined shortly after leaving Walla Walla was a pleasant surprise. We were following the Lewis and Clark trail as a means to an end reaching Portland but it quickly turned into some of the most magnificent riding I have done in the US. A peach stand by the side of the road was too good to turn down on such a hot day so I pulled over to get a juicy fix. The guy only seemed interested in selling 6 at once, I was just after one. He told me I could just have one for free, I insisted on giving a dollar which he declined but I slipped it under a tray regardless.

I kept the peach until reaching the Oregon state sign and savoured it by the baking roadside, so refreshing. Almost too big to hold, the juices poured down my shirt with every bite.

Eal rejoined me shortly before we crossed back into Washington again to take the alternate side of the river. We hit a bad patch of road, recently there have been stretches of roadworks where fresh oil has had loose gravel poured over the top. Without having time to bed down it makes riding bikes a little tricky. It lasted for 5 shaky miles before we could enjoy the rest of the scenic route to crow butte (crow butt) state park. The shower was out of service tonight but the Columbia river was inviting enough to take a dip, warm too!

The ACA maps highlighted a stretch of 80 miles with limited services, a quick peanut butter & jelly sandwich with bananas would have to fuel me until the first town on route, Roosevelt. Rolling into town after putting down around 30 miles there was no guarantee of a good meal, most places seemed closed until we reached the last place in town, a mini mart with a quite splendid cafe area inside.

By recommendation of the other cyclists in the logbook I ordered the breakfast burrito, incredible. What a gem, the women who served us told us how all the cyclists are delighted to find that place, unsurprising. We bolted on with tailwinds again for what would be a 115 mile day. Me and Eal got separated for about 70 miles after I passed up going half a mile off route to a gas station which he had taken after me. Stunning riding again along the gorge, I had mount hood as the backdrop all afternoon. He caught up as we began to ride through a series of small tunnels, they each have a button to press for bicyclists to warn drivers but they are so small I stopped pressing it after the first few.

Camping was by the river (took another dip) again in a really small county park for free! I got to talk with Flavia for a while on the phone which was great to check her progress. We had already bought wine for the evening however and older motorcycle guy in the spot next to us bought a 6 pack of beers and gave me and Eal 2 each to share with him, cheers hombré! I almost feel guilty when I catch myself taking that kind of generosity for granted, American friendliness is seemingly insurmountable.

With the promise of several rest days waiting for us we blitzed towards Portland the next morning where we would be staying with my friend Emily and also meeting up with more friends from my TransAm trip, Stefaan and Tara. The winds blew us along nicely down the gorge with only a fleeting stop for lunch at a Safeway followed by and overdue haircut at Supercuts! Cheap and cheerful.

The evergreen highway along the Washington side of the river was in pretty bad condition for the last the last 10 miles before crossing back into Oregon, dodging cracks and potholes as we rolled. Eventually we made it to a bike path that ran down the centre of the interstate over the Columbia. A very disorientating experience with 3 lanes of traffic whizzing by in opposite directions. Once into Portland I recognised street names and followed my memory along Lombard towards the St Johns neighbourhood. It was great to be back again seeing all the familiar places and faces! Stefaan and Emily met us at a bar for a post ride drink catch up. We now have a few days off the bikes here then a few more hopefully up in Seattle with La Flavster.

 

Divided And United

Posted on by Ryan

Breakfast in Whitefish, sad happy times. I got some monstrous pancakes which I cleverly devised a well in the middle of to hold maple syrup for dunking. Appetites satisfied it was ride time, this is where Flavia splits from us. I held up emotions pretty good as we hugged goodbye knowing we get to meet up again in a few weeks but as soon as we started riding I was bummed out, face like a bulldog all day long. Poor Flavvy having to go tackle all those nasty looking climbs in Washington on her lonesome, she made it this far so she can handle it for sure but I’m going to miss her company so much. People continually ask me what my favourite part of the ride has been in the US so far, I had been saying riding the Mississippi, thats changed to riding with Flavia.

Thankfully I had the best possible evening ahead to pick my spirits up. Rather ironically as I said goodbye to one riding partner today I would reunite with Cooper from the TransAm as he was driving back home to Minneapolis (remember I stayed with his sister Elsie). This also reminded me that I have revisited Wim and Joe too this summer, a good record for meeting up with friends again.

Coop met us at a bar in Poulsen with his buddy Alan, we had a great night sharing beers and pizza. Just generally catching up and laughing hard at our stories from Virginia and Kentucky, great time.

We said goodbye to Coop and Alan as they joked about the long mileage they have sitting in their car today. Me and Eal left town on a great bike path that lasted for a good 20 miles before we joined a narrow road with heavy traffic. The mountain range on our left made for an incredible view, I couldn’t help but think about the mountain bikers riding the divide along that thing, crazy.

I was hit by another flat around 15 miles before Missoula, again it was just a small sharp stone which had penetrated the rubber and kevlar, the tyre needed replacing, it was pretty worn, luckily Missoula has about 6 bike shops! Once in town we first hit the Adventure cycling office to the warmest of welcomes. We were given a full tour of the new office space, had our picture taken for the hall of fame and spoke with co-founder Greg Siple for a while who eventually weighed our bikes fully loaded on his fish hook scale. Both were almost identical at 88lbs. Greg also got us a feature on the local college radio show ‘One for the road’ on our rest day.

That evening my phone decided to melt itself in my hand so after getting our bikes booked in at a shop we walked several miles down to a cell phone repair shop that told me it was irreparable! They had a number of second hand sets though so I managed to get a decent replacement that could take my sim card. The radio show that evening was so much fun, we talked travel, our trip and got to pick some tunes! 🙂 Kevin the DJ joined us afterwards in a bar to talk some more about his travels, he has covered some ground for sure.

Missoula is a great town, Saturday morning meant farmers market too, right outside the Adventure cycling headquarters. It was time to get back on the road though with a steady but gentle climb up to Lolo pass, I knew it was gentle because this is a section I have ridden before on the TranAm and I was excited to ride it again. Initial headwinds gave way once in amongst the mountains. It was beautiful forest riding all the way up to the pass which also acts as the Idaho state line and Pacific timezone crossing. Another hour gained we plummeted down the other side for 10 super fast miles to our campspot for the evening behind the small store at the Lochsa Lodge. We were joined by a fellow Brit called Richard heading east and shared a few brews in the lodge bar after nomming down a campstove dinner.

Breakfast at the Lochsa lodge that next morning was just a great as I remembered from the last time. The view out the window was a little concerning, forest fires have been really bad in the area recently. Highway 12 which we are on all day was almost closed yesterday as the active fire came within 1/4 mile of the road.

I set out first knowing we had a gently downhill 90 mile day ahead but with very limited services. 45 miles I stopped for the first time to take a break as the smoke start to sting my eyes and I could feel it on my chest. A women told me leaving the lodge it would be bad for 15 miles then ok which is the reason I continued riding so long without stopping but It still hadn’t eased up. It wasn’t until around 25 miles before Kooskia that the air felt clear again. All my clothes smelt as though they had been hanging over a coal fire all day (better than usual?). Me an Eal eventually synced up just before Kooskia and got the tents pitched under the small park shelter. I had remembered from my last camp in the park sprinklers were hidden everywhere so grass was out of the question tonight.

 

Mountains Of Fun

Posted on by Ryan

I had expected a change in scenery several days ago leaving Havre, Bob told me that we were on the cusp of the transition towards trees, mountains, greenery, the rockies! Still nothing had really changed and I was starting to wonder if someone had moved them. Breakfast is a big deal for our little trio, we almost always make time for a first and second breakfast, recently I’ve been going for the pancakes, adding the blueberry option where possible.

We had a reasonably short ride to Cut Bank in order to line up tomorrows destination and avoid a stopover in Browning which we had been strongly advised against. The campground was sweet, nice showers and wifi is always welcome. Flavia rolled up quite distressed, she had lost her beloved orange sweater that she purchased in Fargo to help with her thermal issues. I told her a small mammal by the road would now be using it for warmth, that seemed to help. We cooked up some food and had a few Ninkasi beers whilst playing, the now nightly round of, hangman and sketchgame on Flavorings iPad.

There was some rain around the next morning, we hit the gas station for a quick breakfast eager to make some ground up early as we headed towards Glacier. I had some trouble with the creamer machine for my coffee. There was no obvious button to dispense milk but there was a filled teat hanging down like a cows udder, I squeezed the teat. The milk came out but so did the gas station lady to tell me off. 🙁

The area between Cut Bank and East Glacier was part of the Blackfeet Indian reservation. Those guys even had a bad rep 200 years ago, apparently they still do. The previous warnings about the town of Browning however seemed a little misguided. We stopped at the grocery store and had brief conversations with a few friendly locals. There were a bunch of forest fires around that hazed the view of in the distance but leaving Browning we could see the rockies for sure, an amazing sight.

The scenery still refused to change up until a mile before East Glacier, then suddenly, trees, trees and more trees! I haven’t seen forest for weeks on end, I pulled over at the first gas station elated. We trucked on up over Marias Pass which marks a continental divide and coasted several glorious miles towards Glacier Meadows campground.

I crawled out of my tent/burrow the next morning to be told I look like a prairie dog as usual by Flavia. There was some sadness in the air though, today would be her last day riding with us as she continues west to Seattle and we make a detour south west for Missoula, then Portland. If we hadn’t already scheduled and made plans we could have continued to Seattle and then went south afterwards. We will have time to spare at the end of the trip so this way we will get to go up to Seattle in a few weeks and have a big happy reunion.

The riding, stopovers, food, beer, laughs made the day to Whitefish probably the best days riding in the US. Not only was the scenery magnificent, we got to have second breakfast at a wonderful lodge, take a dip in the ice cold rivers, arrive in Whitefish just as the farmers market vendors opened up and then hit the brewery in town. The trouble with the blog is its just a summary of the days events to line up with pictures. Almost the entire ride is lost in the posts. So you will just have to believe me when I say it was amazing, also Flavia managed to fall over sideways whilst stationary clipped into her pedals, didn’t want to miss that detail out.

I talked about lifer friends when we left Joe’s in Pitts. Going through school and work you inevitabley get bunched with similarly like minded people and make lots of great friends, the pool is pretty big, you were more likley to meet them and how lucky I am to have so many great friends that I wish I could see now even just for a drink at the end of a ride, Doug, Lewy, Luke, Ben, Jack, Nate, Coop and everyone else!

Bicycle touring, the pool is much smaller. You could go weeks without seeing anybody else and when you do the chances are you might talk for a few minutes or ride together for a day and part ways. Maybe you ride a little farther together and keep in touch. If you cover enough miles and discover many new people with a bit of luck you might come across a Flavia Chen. Fiercly intelligent, super generous and caring but still a total goofball, simply a beautiful person and most certainly a lifer. I am already counting the days until Seattle, she has to make it there herself first!

You Wind Some You Lose Some

Posted on by Ryan

I failed to take a picture of the ride to Glasgow (glasscow). The shoulder was erratic all day with really bad truck traffic. At one point on a downhill a gust blew me so hard I went into the gravel which sloped off the side. I managed to stay on the bike but I immediatley stopped to make sure Eal and Flavia had safely passed through the sketchy section.

We arrived in decent enough time to hit the library for a while then dine out for   a change. Not a bad joint either, I had a pasta dish that was long overdue complemented by a drop of vino before we hit the tents.

Riding to Malta we managed to dodge nasty looking rain clouds throughout the morning and had a second breakfast at a rest area. The afternoon winds blasted us from the front. Eal burrowed his head and trucked on impressively, I could see Flavvy was less than amused by the conditions so we employed some drafting tactics to ensure the group arrived in once piece, I didn’t want a repeat of the Tappen/Steele day. Besides bad jokes aside, I enjoy her company whilst riding and we eventually made it to Malta with a free camp in the city park. We cooked up dinner together and shared a few beers that Flavvy bought as a thanks for the afternoon support.

The winds were kinder the next day as we targeted Chinook, kind enough for us to regroup and think we could shoot farther to Havre. The cycling gods or maybe just the ‘East Glacier Front’ as one local put it, turned on us. In the blink of an eye the tailwinds turned to strong gusty headwinds. A repeat of yesterday afternoons headwinds, Eal trucked on whilst I drafted with Flavarillo. We stayed focussed thinking up puns with the town name Havre (pronounced Have-er), eventually making it to find Eal slumped and beat outside a gas station. It adjoined an RV park and we scored a shower for $5 before heading over to the park in town to camp for free. Whilst cooking up tea in the park some homeless and visibly drunk people came up to us. They were non threatening, offering us good wishes and prayers. It was a difficult situation to handle, extremely sad and unsettling. Flavia is and incredibly compassionate person and she comforted one of the women who was terribly upset by her predicament. She probably wont like me saying it was touching, but  she is a very gentle caring person and I am thankful to have her in our company.

The next morning we had a slow start. Over breakfast we watched the flags outside waving violently in the wrong direction. We made the desicion to do some laundry and see how the wind conditions develop. Laundry done we hit the grocery store. If anything the headwinds had worsened. So badly infact that my fully loaded bike lent against a wall was blown over! Its then we decided to ‘Havre’ rest day rather than battle through winds all day and make little progress.

As we were leaving the store to find somewhere to bunker down a guy at the service desk called us over. It turned out to be Bob and he lived in town, he immediately offered us a place to stay in his basement. His boss drove us up to his place in her pickup with the bikes in the back, Bob was working till 10pm and we had the whole afternoon to fill. Fill it we did with awesome pizza making followed by brownies! Hands down best pizza of the trip. We ended the day with wine whilst me and Flavsome enjoyed a few episodes of Arrested Development, too funny!

We hadn’t seen Bob that evening when he got in but he was up for breakfast that Flavia had rustled up, eggs in a nest. It was fun talking with Bob about his previous tales of putting up random strangers, in some case cyclists at his place over the years, great guy.

About 20 miles into the ride we stopped at a lonely looking cafe/bar for second breakfast. There were a bunch of home nation football shirts hanging around, turned out the owner was from London. At the moment I can see towns 10-20 miles off in the distance before reaching them, it helps keep focus and I think makes me ride faster. Also spotted the rockies on the horizon for the first time, covering ground now.

Continuing from the previous Havre jokes, the days destination Galata was just as pun worthy. Me and Flavvy spent the last 10 or so miles exchanging terrible puns like…”We’re guna have Galata fun tonight!”. Possibly one of those, you had to be there jokes, I thought it was funny and I was there, in Galata! Camping behind an unmanned motel with the back door left open for shower access. Strange joint but it worked for a cheap nights kip.