A little Q and a few A's

Recently I had the pleasure to answer some questions for Bikepackers Magazine

And then I was abruptly interviewed by myself: 

What is it that you consider yourself officially?
I'm a doer of things and a toothy disk rotator.

How do you spend your time?
Entangled in a metal contraption, stooped and running just above the ground.

Where do you prefer to do this? 
On the crusty and undeveloped skin of this big spinning potato.

Where do you reside when you are not on that metal big kids toy or flapping in the wind?
In a nylon fortress

What's your favorite cheese?
Gouda

What do you do with the long hours of solitude? 
I practice going slightly strange. It's a work in progress

What do you like best about those fat tires?
Buoyancy, suspension and that they keep my pump handling skills honed.

What do normally eat in a day? 
Just about anything I can sculpt a turd out of.

Did you really just say that?  Yes

What kind of music do you listen to mostly? 
A lot of punk and metal. Stuff that rattles my brain, keeps me charging into the unknown ready to do battle with beasts envisioned from gravity and the elements.
Though sometimes I listen to pretty mellow stuff when I'm in a chill mood and need a hug.

What are your goals for the future?
To have a good time, not take things to serious and be a good dude.

Do you have any plans to stop ever?
No. What I'm doing may vary but I won't halt for as long as Ill be breathing.

Thats sounds pretty corny. What do you mean by that?
I'm currently on a lengthy bike trip. What I tend to dream about most? More bike trips. Bike raft trips, aquatic bike trips, cargo bike trips, rail bike trips, pack raft trips, etc etc. I hope this body holds out, I got some plans for it.

What do you get out if all of this?
A life thats enjoyable and an epic way to spend it.

Does the erratic discontent of a million neurological vortices make any sense to you?
No

Where are you going from here?
Over the horizon and to oil my chain

Have you anything else to say?
Nope, it's time to ride.

Go Go Go

   A little story time:

Sergey Lyzhin

In 2004, Falon and I were on our way to Alaska. We called it "the mad dash to Alaska." We’re on touring road bikes and averaging about 90 miles a day. Somewhere in the north of British Colombia we bumped in to another cyclist. An energetic, bordering on spastic, middle aged man named Sergey. He was from Estonia and pedaling around the world for his second time. The first time he went around going east. This time he was going west, crossing Europe, Russia and the States both times. Our pace was a bit much for him so we slowed, camping together for a few nights. He was an amusing and interesting little guy. His broken English with heavy slavic accent and the frantic way he did things was hilarious. "Go Go Go" was his favorite phrase. It's how he explained his trip, how he told us it was time to ride and how he woke us up in the morning. It rained just about the whole time were together. The first night we slept in a junk yard, the next we camped in soggy tents. One morning we had a fire to dry things out and cook pancakes. Falon laid his socks along the fire to dry and quickly melted the shit out of them. They were his only pair. Sergey and I were cracking up watching him try to get his feet back in them. They weren't socks so much anymore as scorched and destroyed flaps of fabric. He wore them anyway, classic Falon style. Later that same day we bid Sergey farewell. We were going off to some town I can't remember the name of to pick up a tire. So we got back on our old pace. My sister was getting married soon and I needed to be back in California. Two years later, Falon, his brother Jasper and I were in Scandinavia. We had just ridden from Bergen, Norway to Stockholm, Sweden. Jasper headed home to the states. Falon and I boarded a ferry across the Baltic Sea. Sergey had told us he was from Tallinn Estonia. As we rolled off the ferry in Tallinn, we thought: it couldn't be too hard to find him? The guy rode around the world twice. One of these bike shops is going to know of him. Shop after shop they shook their heads at us. Until one. While doing our terrible job of describing just what we wanted and giving a vague description, I turned around and there was Sergey’s bike... hung on the wall next to a big photo of him. Excitedly we got the shop owner to phone him up. He had just got off work and said he would come to the shop. We weren't sure he was going to remember us. We had only crossed paths for two days a few years before. He busted through the door, obviously having sprinted there, yelling "my friends, my friends!” He gave us big hugs for a little guy. I asked "do you remember us? He said yes, but it was only when he reached down to check the condition of Falon's socks that I was sure. He invited us to his home. We rode through the city, stopping several times at homes of his friends so he could show us off. He beamed, playing out the story of Falon's melted socks in his hyper way, more emphasized by his happiness. We went back to his tiny communist block style apartment. He made us dinner and played for us many of the tapes he recorded on his tours. I had forgotten about the big lump in his coat back in Canada… the VHS video camera he carried around his neck, occasionally popping it out to film something. Eventually he found the tape and we watched ourselves on the screen 2 and a half years earlier. Sergey had a girlfriend and a child on the way. He left us in his apartment and went off to her place for the night, returning to meet us in the morning. Together we rode to the city limits. He had to return to work and Falon and I were continuing south to Latvia. He gave us big hugs, wishing us "Go Go Go,” then turned away abruptly, his eyes full of tears, too choked up to say anything more. He got on his bike and rode back. I stood there a long time watching him go. What he must have felt? Twice he pedaled around the world at its largest land mass. The friends he made, the experiences he had. The things he saw and learned. All the emotions that come with it were in those tears. Elation and sadness, joy and frustration. The flood of memories from a monumental experience done twice. We were just two beings who had morphed out of the mist as living reminders. We pedaled on. All of us better for the chance meeting. People like Sergey make this a better world. One that can be lived without borders, supremacy and fear.
 

CA, BD & NF

 CA: Carretera Austral
 BD: Birthday
 NF: Nacho Feast

There are just no reasons to upgrade some technology, ie: gate hinges 

Old school graffiti 

The scenery has not been to hard on the eyes lately

The Carretera Austral is one of the worlds most trafficked routes for traveling cyclist. I now know why.

Classic Bikeshacking

A little dry river riding? Sure...

The last ferry of the year from Villa O·higgins

Fall is in the air

 The route from Lago O·higgins ferry to the border. A section many heavily loaded cycle tourist dread.  

I bypassed a the second ferry across Lago del Desierto by taking this beautiful hike a bike

I think fairies, unicorns and trolls migrated to the rest of the world from Patagonia

A bit of beach riding? Ok

Most of this trail was no place for wheels, but some sections were pure magic

In El Chalten there is an amazing little gem of a woman named Florence. She has opened her home to the hoards of passing cyclist.  Her kindness is just unbelievable. Hundreds of crusty bikers pass through every year. She helps set up your tent, cooks you breakfast and waves off your thank yous with a smile.

It can seem much like a base camp for most the year. This was the scene on my birthday. Mate for most, coffee for me.

 "I don't have a beard, I just haven't shaved yet"

The scene at the Nacho table. It was a revolving crowd of- 2 Italians, 3 Germans, 2 Polish, 2 Canadians, 2 Americans, 1 Welsh and about 5 Argentinians 

My birthday nacho dream in full affect!  I Thank everyone for helping to make it happen! Really, Thank you all!  My belt is cinched pretty tight these days. Splashing out on a big meal for friends and I would have blown my budget to pieces.  To have so many new friends there to sing happy birthday and pat me on the back was just awesome... tear  inducing. As much as I love storming mountain passes and roaming the less populated earth, times like your birthday are best not spent alone.

Even desert!

It was a great birthday but soon it was time to get back to business!

ditch camping

The infamous Pink House. A known refuge for cyclist. 

Stop in and sign the wall

Corresponding imagery to a roving and dirtstruck cyclist...

This is how you know you have made it to Patagonia

Monkey Puzzle trees

A gateway to giddy splendor

Walking on the surface of the moon

A quiet and windless spot for a cup

Get it where you can. Windless sleeping

Fetchaholic

More expensive than the other brands and not compatible with other pasta

Bikeshacking

Railcart across the marsh

yet another crossing

My first run in with the infamous Austral

more Bikeshacking

and more shutter speed play

Roadside dulce de leche y manzana... mmm

I don't think I'm the first to partake of these free accommodations 

The feast! Casa de ciclista in Villa Maniguales. I got there and it was empty. I was bummed, I was really looking forward to some company and interaction after weeks riding dirt hyways alone. But slowly the cyclist rolled in and we had a great dinner. 

To bad Mike was going the other way. A cool dude and a fellow bikepacker

I first met Simon and Olivia back up in Lapaz. By completely different routes we bumped into each other again here in Southern Chile.

Fresh snow in the hills. Proof that winter is coming on fast at the bottom of the world. Gotta get scootin.