The most memorable part about Mexico so far is the texture. Everything either has a sort of incomparable weathered age or a trying-too-hard perfect smoothness. There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground like it feels all of America (east coast skate spots being the only exception) is coated with. I don’t know if it’s the history of all the small towns we’ve ridden, lack of resources and give-a-shit-ness to prioritize upkeep, or simply that if it works it works and who cares what it looks like.
Flat times at Ridgemont High
“Speaks for itself” is an entertaining idiom to use for inanimate objects as they obviously cannot communicate verbally, yet can often provide a lectures worth of information from appearance alone. Beausage being my favorite word for this and one commonly used for bikes and related equipment. It’s what I’m reminded of anytime I’m unlucky enough to require the use of my Silca frame pump.
Getting a flat tire is never fun but I swear there’s something about just holding this damn thing that is satisfying. Impeccably well machined, works wayyy faster than you’d expect, and can be disassembled and serviced with a multi tool in less than a minute. This one has been on many of my bikes since May 2015 and has an absolutely gorgeous black-to-purple fade that I adore.
When heading out on the cargo bike tour I decided that every flat that this pump fixed would earn it a little notch. Each one a reminder of how hard it’s been working and all its successful conquests. Am currently at 21 (eight of which were across three days just outside of Tallahassee before I knew marathons didn’t like hookless rims 😬) and as much as I’m dreading it...I’m sure it’ll earn many more.
Trust
I’ve learned that bicycle touring relies a lot on trust. Trusting yourself when deciding to head out on the road. Trusting past travelers on their route suggestions. Trust in others to let you sleep soundly behind a church or VFD. But most of all it’s trusting your gear to not let you down, whether in the middle of the desert or somewhere in the Appalachians in early November. Related: here’s a chilly photo of the best damn levers for bicycle touring. I’m nearly at 30,000 miles on these Gevenalle shifters and I trust em’ as much as day 1.
LBS
One of the more significant perspective changing occurrences from this year on the road has been the hospitality that has been thrown my way by all manner of people. Sometimes it's randos on the side of the road giving me food or tips on a safe place to sleep, but more often it's the national treasure that is the LBS. Countless times I've rolled this big dumb rig through the front door of a classic grassroots co-op or a balleur #nothingbutcarbon studio and everything in between.
The magic of bike touring (and touring on a cargo bike, even more so) somehow makes every bike person lean into helping out, take a break from patching tubes or lacing wheels, to be a part of my journey even if just for an afternoon. Their good will pushes me forward. Metaphorically and actually forward no matter if it's me just borrowing some tools or them tearing apart my entire drivetrain to find a new creak that showed up a few days ago.
It's likely that none of y’all would be where you are without a LBS and it's a goddamn fact that I certainly wouldn't have even started this trip without the ones that let me loiter and learn after hours. Here's some photos of my favs from the trip.
"art"
“The people who run our cities don't understand graffiti because they think nothing has the right to exist unless it makes a profit, which makes their opinion worthless.
They say graffiti frightens people and is symbolic of the decline in society, but graffiti is only dangerous in the mind of three types of people; politicians, advertising executives, and graffiti writers.
The people who truly deface our neighbourhoods are the companies that scrawl giant slogans across buildings and buses trying to make us feel inadequate unless we buy their stuff. They expect to be able to shout their message in your face from every available surface but you're never allowed to answer back. Well, they started the fight and the wall is the weapon of choice to hit them back.” - Banksy
DFL not DNF
The Moran 333 gravel (sand, it’s a lot of sand) race was a significant learning experience. Taught me that I vastly prefer touring on my Omnium Cargo where I can bring aaanything I want vs being to just 30L or so of storage on my Crust Scapegoat (which still fuuuckin ruled for this route hot damn am glad I had 2.8” to work with).
Also learned that it’s good to prepare for rain even when there’s not a single speck of green on the radar because when a storm wakes ya up at 2am ya gonna have a baaad time for the next 20 hours or so.
Turns out eating an entire pizza while watching every Toy Story movie on motel tv can be exactly what my body and brain need. Rolling across the finish line to zero celebration or fanfare, welcomed by a couple grandpas just hangin out at the fairgrounds, was honestly the best ending to this little adventure within my great adventure.
Normal people will go car camping for a weekend to take a break from their 8-6 comfy corporate career lives. Maybe I can approach ultra races in a similar way; strip down the luxuries I usually ride with and see how much more rough I can handle. Next time I’ll be a bit smarter, a bit more prepared, and a bit more successful at taking on such an endevour. I may never end up winning a race but hopefully I’ll always finish them.
Ottawa
Words and photos by my good friend Michael Norton @biglegstinyarms
This is Erik, aka @truemarmalade
Erik and I have been following eachother on social media, before Instagram existed. So I was stoked when he offered to visit Ottawa.
I think if you were to describe him as a cycling nomad, you wouldn’t be wrong, but I think there’s more to it him that. I have also described him as “this guy I follow who rides all around North America living off his titanium cargo bike and dumpster dives for almost all his food.”
He also puts me to shame as a cycling photographer.
I think you can draw more than one comparison between Erik and his Omnium cargo bike, durable? unconventional? Even though his lifestyle might be on the extreme end, I think there’s lessons for all of us:
You don’t need to drive everywhere.
Be less wasteful, and more resourceful.
Be more creative.
You can do more than you think.
Go look in some dumpsters for some food!
Trail Magic
This is Funcut aka Cory aka @extremepedestrian aka the best random acquaintance turned lifetime friend that I could never have predicted / expected / believed could happen until it happened. We first crossed paths down in the handle of FL at a campsite with a German couple on tour after a VERY stormy night. Bonded over travel stories while he rode on the front of my cargo bike down to Saint Marks Lighthouse and we saw the loneliest flamingo in the world.
He kept hiking The Florida Trail and upon finishing hopped up to The Appalachian Trail and started walking north while I rambled down to Key West and up the east coast. A hundred or so days after we parted ways our paths collided again way up in Maine with a bro hug so good it had to’ve shaken the universe. It’s an odd feeling to realize one of the most significant moments of my 2023 happened due to car problems and a rain delay (plus who knows how many other butterfly flaps) but I’m so happy my life is now full of this. See you on the west coast Funcut! Below are some photos from his journey across the country as well as some documenting Shaws Hiker Hostel, which is its own amazing little bit of trail magic.
Lubec
Oh hey I made it to the other end of the country, for all y’all that didn’t see it on IG a couple months back. From Key West, FL on March 22 to Lubec, ME on July 7; 107 days rambling up the east coast was just as beautifully unpredictable as my ride across the south. There’s no way for me to adequately thank everyone that I crossed paths with sharing slices of their life with me, all the generous hosts on Warmshowers who welcomed me into their home, and all the support from friends and _brands_ on social media keeping me from getting too lonely. I’m not sure if I’ll make it to the top of MN or left side of WA first, but the quest will continue.
Getting stuck in Baltimore
“What’s the weirdest thing that’s happened on your trip???” is a question I’m asked often enough that it feels by this point I should have crafted a decent answer, but I instead choose to pivot towards telling a story about how anytime something has gone wrong it inevitably leads to an incredible experience that otherwise would never have taken place. My front wheel exploding (see last slide) outside of Baltimore lead to me getting stuck in the city for a few days while Tommy at Cutlass made my Omnium good as new, meaning that I was around for the Baltimore Bike Party which DAMN y’all ever ride bikes with A THOUSAND PEOPLE through a city? It’s an impossible sort of beautiful mess that I’m glad to have experienced, as well as the #coffeeoutside ramble and stoop hangs the following day. The chaos that rears its head while bikepacking is not an opponent that can be defeated so you may as well embrace the monster and see where it’ll take you.
