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It says I am on here a lot, but I actually hardly am. If i view your page a few times and never send something, PLEASE don't think I am some internet stalker or anything. Realistically, I was probably just busy and had the intention of sending you a message. If I start to make you wonder, send me a message and I will do my best to reply as fast as I possibly can.
Ok. I am probably going to sound like a dick based on what I have here, but please just give me a chance. You will find that I don't really get pissed off all that easily, unless you do something that I am very much against. And normally even if you do that, I won't make any big deal of it unless you keep doing it after I have asked you not to a few times.
I open up to people way too easy. I let them build me up, only to bring my hopes crashing down. You would think I would learn, but I never do.
I like to watch movies and hang out with my friends. They mean the world to me. If you repeatedly insult my friends or me, I will be very pissed, and most likely not talk to you anymore. If you slip up and say one thing that insults my friends or me, I will just take it in stride. We all slip up at times, and I won't hold that against someone. Continually doing it time and time again is not ok though. I am sorry if this sounds mean, but my friends are the ones who have been there for me, and I will defend them. EARN my respect, and I will not be as critical on what you say about my friends or myself.
I love cars. They are my driving passion. I am happy that I got rid of my old truck(big Expedition) and picked up a new truck. It is a Frontier, and a 6 speed. I don't own any vehicles with an automatic. I have come to learn that I LOVE driving stick(go ahead, you can make a joke about it if you want), and automatics just seem boring to me.
I ride a sportbike. If you don't like that, please don't be rude about it. There are only a few things that mean more to me than my bike. Please don't send me a message saying "Have fun on that death trap." or "Let's see how far you can scatter on the road." I get enough of those comments from my parents. The sad part is, I am more likely to be killed by a person in a car pulling out in front of me. It isn't the bike that is dangerous. The dangerous thing is the person driving a car and not paying attention. I can say now that I have already had close calls with people more worried about their conversation on the cell phone than driving.
I am sorry if I come off as a prick. I just get tired of everyone telling me what is right and what isn't. If I want your advice, I will ask for it.
I almost forgot...I ACTUALLY DO MY OWN LAUNDRY!!!!!
I am a decent person, a rider, and easy going.
I AM NOT PERFECT! I KNOW THIS! However, I am happy with the person I am, but I still always try to shape myself into a better person.
If you are looking for a brony, I'm not into that. I can sit down with someone and watch cartoons if they really want, but when you ask me to watch My Little Pony, that is really pressing your luck. I actually really enjoy cuddling up with someone and watching movies or tv, but let's try to keep the shows somewhat interesting.


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Arf. Hola amigos. My name is Clodie and you all probably know me by sight. I'm the little dog with the peace jacket and I walk around campus all day, patrolling for new smells and chasing squeakers into trees.
I also sit in class with my best friend, the tall and handsome and humble guy who talks too much. He really likes all the philosophy and theology stuff, but I –La Chihuahua– am a Mexican-American, and alas I cannot understand your big gringo words. ¡Ay! What I wouldn't give to be an American college student, (tall enough to reach the treats on the counter)!
As you might know from psychology class, dogs are very well attuned to conditioned response cues that are associated with events, like Pavlov's dogs. I, for instance, just can't stand cowbells. Yarararf! Or when Tom Millary starts looking scary at the Gonzo theater.
Or when Tom Millary looks scary period. But more subtly, when y'all start packing up your things at the end of class, I hear books closing and zippers zipping and things moving around. That's when I know it is time to go outside, maybe do some business, maybe chase a squeaker, and sniff some things.
I get excited, wouldn't you? (Unless it's raining. Eee-eee-eee. I hate rain.) But I noticed that sometimes some of you start getting ready, zipping, packing, before class is even over. This I do not understand. ¿Como?
The big gringo man at the blackboard is not yet finished talking. Aren't you all paying lots and lots of pesos to listen to the big gringo man?
If I start getting antsy before class is over, I get in trouble. (I hate being in trouble.) But even more importantly, is the big gringo man (with his big gringo words) so boring that you decide to tune him out the last cinco minutos of class?
I may not be one of you, but it seems disrespectful to *El Jefe* to just phase out and start thinking about other things while class is just finishing. Often, the whole point of the lecture is contained in the last few moments. You wouldn't want to miss anything, right? If I were a student and not a dog, I would want to soak up every last second of learning.
That is the American Dream, right? I know this is not all of you.
Nor is it consistently the same people. Perhaps what is making me puzzled is just why. My best friend (*el Guapo*) was in the war and that is why he has me, (*La Chihuahua*), and that is how he is able to afford to sit in your classes.
Certainly he must have gone through hell to be in school with you. It probably hurts his feelings that some of you sometimes don't even think about the wasted time and privilege you are enjoying.
Can someone explain this to me? Oh, and thanks for saying Hola when you see me! I also accept treats. yyyArf!
*Clodie Morena Knappenberger is ten pounds and one year old. This makes her the youngest visiting scholar at EMU. She also ran unsuccessfully for the Presidency on the Republican ticket, and was only rejected because of her undocumented status
Clodie Morena Knapenberger (Evan Knappenberger)
Categories: Opinion

subset: commoncrawl


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Episode Reviews (1)
Decent stuff.
I must say that this was an episode that was a bit boring but entertaining. I liked some things but I also thought that there were a few moments in which I could have done without. Seeing all of Eddie's ex-girlfriends was funny, but kind of pointless. I expected as much from Laura, being one of my least favorite characters, pulling off a prank like this. I thought the storyline with Carl was good. That probably was my favorite aspect of the episode. Overall, this was an okay episode that had some things to like. I was fairly entertained and interested. Thank you.moreless


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50 senyol 37 art 27 painting 23 canvas town cape 22 africa 21 streets 20 south illustration 17 world 16 drawing 15 won 2007 war 12 fine 11 exhibition spraypaint studio 10 piece 2006 wood ink 9 acrylic design pencil 8 contemporary gallery 7 graffiti street shoes 6 new 5 warren show color competition 4 by volcom paintings mixed lewis hands media coaster 3 colors godfrey local style sneakers girls artist dogs durban works installation apartment graphic what wall commission draw bin sticks beer johannesburg magazine tree fabriano black pc rounded corners customised work blunt concept modern moja lines up hand if picasso pen open box panel paper arms letters store shop mats mixing brief bark paint harrington x blue
14 art,senyol 9 senyol,streets art,streets painting,senyol 8 art,painting won,world war,world senyol,world 7 painting,streets senyol,studio 6 africa,senyol
senyol 50
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- LAST BLUE BUS: 5/15, 6:20 p.m. HC to BMC
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Changes to Employee Discount with AT&T
As you may know, Haverford employees are eligible for a discount on cellular telephone service from AT&T. This courtesy is provided to all of our staff and faculty. I'm writing to let you know thatour discount has been increased from 15% to 17%.
The new 17% rate is effective immediately.
If you're currently signed up with AT&T to receive a discount on your personal cell phone, you may want to check to ensure that your February bill reflects the new discount rate. If you haven't signed up to receive the discount, detail on how to do it are available on the IITS website:
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The Path Less Pedaled Goes International!
- At December 01, 2011
- By Laura
- In Preparing to Leave, Route
- 24
Where can you find sheep, glaciers, meat pies, and a government that's actively trying to entice bike travelers? The same place that you'll find us in a few days… New Zealand!
That's right, on Sunday, we fly to New Zealand! We've been keeping this a secret for so long, as we've been working through a lot of the details. We have so much that we want to share about our plans overseas, but for now we wanted to finally reveal our next travel destination.
We're taking our faithful Bromptons with us as we spend the next several months exploring both islands. And we'll be connecting with cycling advocates and tourism officials across the country. What's it like to be a cyclist in New Zealand? What are all these great new facilities for bike travelers that we keep hearing about? How long does it take to learn how to ride on the left side of the street?
We're also simply excited to follow Summer and go back to camping and fishing and trying new foods. As we explore New Zealand as a cycle touring destination, we'll be continuing the video series that we started this summer in Eastern Oregon. We've even teamed up with Bicycle Times magazine! You'll find our videos both here and on their website, but you'll have to check out their site for exclusive behind-the-scenes information.
We'll post more details soon (we're working on a video!). In the meantime, let us know of anyone you think we should connect with while we're in New Zealand. We arrive in Auckland on Tuesday and would love to meet up with some local folks!
(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you've enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we're designing.)
This Winding Road
- At November 27, 2011
- By Laura
- In stories
- 7
Things did not go as planned this year. Our lofty, yet attainable, goals just seemed to slip through our fingers. And, while I've long felt that I should just make peace with the way things turned out, I have been incredibly frustrated about it all.
Ironically, the hardest part has been this weirdly nagging feeling that there's a reason why everything worked out the way it did. As if someone else had other plans for us, possibly better plans, and we had to stop trying to control it and just go along.
I have been struggling for weeks to put this into words somehow. To find a way to express this frustration, while also recognizing that, somehow, we're exactly where we need to be. To explain how much we have been focused internally this year, and where it has begun to lead us, without sliding down the hill of pessimism and blame.
And then a weird thing happened. It was late afternoon on the second day of our recent train journey from Oregon to Los Angeles. I looked out the window and suddenly recognized a road that we had ridden on a trip nearly three years earlier. We reminisced for a moment – about the beautiful riding, being passed by a farmer driving a tractor, having to hitch a ride in a pick-up because we had blown our timing and needed to cross a small mountain pass in the dark – and, suddenly, it clicked in my head.
Anyone who has ever traveled has, no doubt, experienced that moment when, suddenly, everything is right with the world. As I watched the small town of Guadalupe drift past the train window, the anxiety and petty frustrations of daily life disappeared, and in their stead was a firm understanding of why I live this non-traditional life. And, somehow, as the train wound around the hills, I finally realized what I have been trying to put into words about where this year has led us and what it means to be a veteran traveler.
Being a traveler means being equal parts dreamer and businessperson. We have to envision grand things and leave a lot up to serendipity. At the same time, we have to dot all our i's and find a way to keep the books in the black. It's a tricky balance of roles that becomes more important the longer we travel – because, at a certain point, traveling diverges from vagabonding, and it must become sustainable if we want our experiences to be bigger than just us. In other words: If traveling full-time is to be our lifestyle and livelihood, then it must also be our business.
That may sound cold and calculated, or conjure up images of schmoozing with suits. In reality, that change in thinking moves us away from an all-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime endeavor, and toward a model that can nurture more than just our immediate personal needs.
When we think about the future, we don't want to build a house somewhere, we want to build a world full of bicycle travelers. It's a goal that requires both strategy and fun, smart planning and adventure. And it's an enormous opportunity for our travels to mean so much more than just our own gratification.
Things did not go as planned this year. As it turned out, we needed the space to shift our identities and our narrative away from a simple extension of our first big trip. We needed to step into bigger versions of ourselves, and start building something that will outlast the stories of a single journey.
A few weeks ago, we officially became a small business, focused on publishing content that promotes bicycle travel. We're excited about this evolution and look forward to wherever it takes us. We'll soon have some exciting news about our next travel destination – and we hope that you'll continue to follow along as we continue to travel and inspire a bicycle-travel-friendly world.
(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you've enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we're designing.)
What About My Bike? (or, The Indignity of Taking a Bicycle Aboard a Bus)
- At November 03, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days, stories
- 12
On our recent bus trip to Bend, we learned that we were supposed to have the Bromptons packed in some sort of box or bag. It's a halfway reasonable request, but one which we knew nothing about until we were actually boarding the bus. The very limited website said nothing about bicycles. The person on the other end of the phone number I found to call for questions said, rather nonchalantly, that they just bring all bicycles on board. The station agent, when we purchased the tickets and then checked in the next day, said nothing about the bag/box requirement. Which led me to once again grumble internally and grit my teeth through a forced smile, as I tried to talk my way on to the driver's good side by copping the 'I'm sorry, I didn't know' defense.
As it turns out, we were also supposed to have paid a $15 bicycle fee. This we don't learn until a week later, when we had purchased our return tickets, leaving Bend. I asked about folding bikes, thinking that, surely, common sense would kick in and the Bromptons would be exempt from the fee. Nope, she tells me, those are $15 too. Which leads me to wonder why. By their very own luggage policy, a passenger is allowed to check one bag, provided that it is under 50 pounds and isn't oversize. So, if our Bromptons fit in a bag that is within the size and weight restrictions, why is there an the extra fee?
In the US, there seems to be an ingrained prejudice against bicycles, especially when it comes to taking them aboard some sort of transit system, and even more especially when it comes to long-distance bus systems. To be fair, a regular-size bike can be bulky and unwieldy and require a large amount of space. But so can a baby stroller. And those suitcases that are four feet tall. The reasons why a bicycle, specifically, should be subject to extra fees are nonsensical and illogical. And they're even more absurd when the bicycle-in-question fits inside a rather standard-size duffel.
Contrast this with our experiences taking The Wave bus between Portland and Tillamook, OR. The Wave is the same small size/style vehicle as the bus to Bend, yet our bikes were cheerfully welcomed each of the three times we traveled on The Wave. With racks on the front and a large luggage compartment, it's so easy and enjoyable to take a bicycle with you on The Wave that we've seen upwards of seven cyclists onboard at one time. No muss, no fuss, no fee… just an example of a long-distance bus system that gets it.
Which also leads me to wonder why there's such variance in bike policies? Why is it such a guessing game to figure out how to take along a bicycle? And why do you inevitably feel like you're doing something wrong?
I think it comes down to one very simple answer: Long-distance bus systems have not yet become aware of the fact that bicycles are now a part of the everyday equation.
Yes, people, it's time to recognize that, whatever your personal feelings, your patrons might want to take a bicycle with them. They want it to be a simple, straight-forward process. They want reasonable policies that are laid out in advance and easy to find. They want the bus driver and the customer service agent and the woman behind the counter to all understand said policies in exactly the same way. And here's the clincher: They want to feel like their bicycle is welcome, because then they will use your bus again and again and tell their friends to do so also.
Which isn't to say that bicycle-toting patrons are unreasonable. Set a limit to the number of bicycles your bus can carry. Require patrons to reserve a bike space (and make sure to tell them how). These are policies that are already in place in a lot of train systems. And I'd hazard a guess that cyclists would be perfectly fine with these limits, because it's obvious that you're open and willing and trying to accommodate your customers.
Right now, there is a lot of unnecessary indignity that faces someone trying to take a bicycle aboard a long-distance bus. We have all flubbed the truth and slipped through the grey areas, heart pumping way too fast, in order to get past the pointless red flag that pops up at the mere mention of the word 'bicycle.' Most of us would be happily willing to be law-abiding bus-riding citizens, if we didn't feel like common sense had completely broken down and we were being unreasonably targeted.
So, we hereby issue a challenge to all long-distance bus systems… Sit down and craft a reasonable, non-discriminatory policy that allows your patrons to take bicycles aboard. Then let us know.
(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you've enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we're designing.)
Nine Year Anniversary… and Other Adventures
- At October 30, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days, stories
- 27
Today, Russ and I celebrate our anniversary… nine years of crazy adventures together!
So, today, dear readers, we thought we would share some photos of our travels over the years, and let you into the hard-fought lessons about maintaining our relationship on the road.
One of the most common questions we're asked is how our relationship has weathered our continual travel; specifically, how do we keep from killing each other? The answer sounds overly simple, but was actually only obvious in retrospect. We had to realize that our relationship on the road is inherently different from what our relationship was in our apartment in Long Beach… and we had to adapt.
The first thing that happened is that we ran out of things to talk about. We ride down the same road, look at the same scenery, meet the same people, eat at the same restaurants. We may interpret things differently and catch nuances differently, but our daily experiences are pretty similar. There is no coming home and saying, "Hi, Honey, How was your day?" It took some getting used to and we had to change our expectations, and eventually we came to understand that it's okay – connection doesn't necessarily come from chatter. Our conversations have morphed from rambling small talk about what happened at work and our interactions at the grocery store, to deeper, yet more disparate, communication about what we're doing and where we're going (on the road and in our lives).
We've also had to learn how to work well with each other and when we need personal time. In our previous lives, we did our own things during the day and then came together in the evening for dinner, etc. Now, we follow each other down the road or collaborate on projects during the day, and still come together for dinner. It's a lot of 'us' time, which can actually be overwhelming after awhile. We've had to work through the comedy of errors that is brainstorming together. We've had to figure out how to be more conscientious and deliberate in our communication. And we've had to learn to recognize when we need time to ourselves (and then take it, and then not get upset or defensive about it).
Do we fight? Yes. If you spent every minute of every day with the same person, wouldn't you eventually find a reason to fight with him/her? I think that every couple has its squabbles, and every couple finds a way to deal with it. Our squabbles are exacerbated by our constant movement, but I no longer think it's a bad thing. The more we stumble over the same issue, the more we become aware of it, and the more we work at changing how we react and interact.
We've also learned that, sometimes, a fight has absolutely nothing to do with anything other than one of us is hungry, and we need to take a break to eat.
One of the biggest, most monumental shifts of the last few years was also one of the smallest. After traveling for long enough, our concept of 'home' changed – from a physical location where we stored our stuff, to wherever we are with each other. It may sound cheesy, but my home is Russ (and vice versa). Our relationship is not what keeps us in the same physical space, it is what supports us as people.
Over the past few years, these intense travel experiences have created a really strong bond between us. (One that, I might argue, is a lot stronger than simply signing a marriage license.) In general, we've come to feel that we'll be okay as long as we're together. It hasn't come easily, but it's certainly a blessing.
Thank you for being a part of our journey and for celebrating with us today!
Hey Southern California!
- At September 27, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days
- 14
Several events have conspired to keep us on the West Coast since late August – and now we are in Southern California, figuring out our plans for the winter (exciting announcements forthcoming). While we're here, we're filling up our calendar with a few presentations and fun events – and, since we'd love to meet up with our So Cal readers, we hope you all can make it to one (or many) of these upcoming events…
Saturday, October 1: Tour de Fat, San Diego
We're headed down to San Diego for New Belgium's quintessential festival of bike fun and beer. We'll even be loading the camping gear on the bikes, and squeezing a short tour into the trip south! If you'll be at Tour de Fat, look for us. We'll be in the parade (possibly in costume) and hanging out through the rest of the day. (We'd also love to spend an extra day or two in San Diego, so contact us if you'd like to meet up or host us for a night.)
Thursday, October 6 @ 7-9pm: Presentation in Long Beach
We've planned two presentations about bike touring and our travels. The first will be at {open} in Long Beach. {open} is one of our favorite spots in Southern California and we're thrilled that they'll be hosting us to talk about traveling on bikes! Join us for stories from the road, the lessons we've learned, and your very own chance to see a Brompton!
2224 E 4th Street, Long Beach, CA 90814
Saturday, October 8: Tour de Fat, Los Angeles
Yes, New Belgium is just crazy enough to host two Tour de Fat festivals, back-to-back, in Southern California. And we'll be at both! If you can't make the one in San Diego, come find us in LA.
Sunday, October 9: CicLAvia, Los Angeles
What would it be like if roads were filled with bikes and pedestrians instead of cars? More and more cities are experimenting with blocking off traffic for a limited time and celebrating the community that comes together when cars are removed from streets. We're excited to see how LA does it, and hope to meet some folks there!
Tuesday, October 11 @ 7-9pm: Presentation in El Segundo
Our second presentation is hosted by El Segundo-based bike shop and Brompton dealer, Electric Bikes LA. We'll be sharing stories and lessons from the road, talking about what it's like to travel on Bromptons, and giving tips for great bike tours in Southern California. This is a wonderfully large space, and we're hoping to pack the place! (Accessible from Metro's Green Line.)
The Joslyn Center Social Hall
339 Sheldon Street, El Segundo, CA 90245
Bozeman to East Glacier, Montana
- At September 08, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days
- 6
This post is a bit late, but better than not putting it up at all!
Our visit to Bozeman flew by, but not before we added the city to our short list of places to possibly live at some point. A small-ish university town, Bozeman has great food and art and easy access to fishing and country roads for cycling. We had a great stay with new friends and then headed out again. Because we had a looming deadline to be back in Oregon for my brother's wedding, we decided to hop a bus to Great Falls and pedal our way to Glacier.
After a less-than-stellar arrival in Great Falls (including a thunderstorm, two flat tires, an oddly hard time finding food or any sign of life, a fight with a motel owner because we couldn't take our bikes in the room, and eventually giving up and camping FEMA-style at an RV park), we wound up nicknaming the city 'Great Fail.' And, yet, we knew we would only encounter small towns as we headed north, so we stayed two nights to wrap up some work and re-supply. Eventually, we encountered a great bike-ped bridge and pathway along the river, and a super cute coffee shop with delicious cupcakes – so the city partially redeemed itself, but the nickname has remained in our minds.
From Great Falls, we hopped on a series of small backroads out of town, before eventually following Hwy 89. The ride was pretty un-extraordinary until we passed through Fairfield. After a coffee stop and lunch break in the park, we wound our way past an enormous and gorgeous waterfowl sanctuary. Marshland and birds and hills on the horizon and very little traffic – it was a lovely stretch of road! We pulled into Choteau (pronounced Sho-to) that afternoon and went in search of camping. There are two main options – the RV park at the edge of town with absurdly expensive tent sites, or the small (and cheap) campground by a creek in the city park. We chose the latter and enjoyed a quiet evening in the shade. At about 4am, we were bolted awake by an insanely loud and terrifying siren. It sounded like an air raid siren, like the sort of thing you would hear before the world ended – but nobody in the neighboring tents seemed to be fleeing, so we just shrugged it off and went back to sleep. The next morning, we learned that it was the alarm for the volunteer fire department (instead of the more modern, and expensive, custom of issuing pagers).
On our way out of Choteau, we stopped at the small museum at the edge of town. Because it wasn't open yet, we peered in the windows and wondered why there were dinosaur statues outside. And then we heard, "Have you ever seen a Grizzly? Do you want to?" Bob fished out the right key and opened the door to the Grizzly exhibit, where two large stuffed bears (from several dozen years ago) stood behind glass. After hearing some great stories, we headed out of town – rambling through wide-open farmland, over lots of hills, to Conrad. The right was beautiful, although lacking in much scenery, and hot. And Conrad was not nearly as cute as Choteau. We have learned that small towns, even if they're physically close to each other, can vary so drastically – and we should never assume that a town will offer certain facilities, and should fully enjoy the cute ones when we find them! We camped FEMA-style in the RV park in Conrad and got an endless amount of amusement from the woman who ran the park (and who seemed to be averse to walking, because she drove her golf cart all over the very small property).
The next day was a short one, and we headed an easy distance to Valier and the park/campground at Lake Frances. We were now squarely in rural farmland, which meant that the traffic was light, the services were sparse, and the scenery was unchanging. We were in a completely different Montana than we had previously experienced and we were enjoying the opportunity to see this non-touristy corner of the state. Our lazy day was exacerbated by the sweltering heat, and we hunted down some smoothies and then cowered in the shade by the lake.
We woke up the next morning to a howling wind. We were loathe to ride in it, but we also really wanted a shower (which are not available at the lake), so we headed the short distance north to Cut Bank. Despite the exhausting wind, the ride was quite peaceful, and we passed nothing more than a handful of small farms. Arriving in Cut Bank, we found food and the RV park (where, for just a few dollars more, we got their delightfully funky tipi cabin). And then George and Elsie found us! The parents of a reader, they live nearby and had been tipped off to our arrival in the area. They scooped us up and took us to lunch and we had a great visit with them, swapping stories and hearing about Northern Montana's heyday many years prior. Before they dropped us back at our plywood tipi, they introduced us to the giant penguin that proclaims Cut Bank as the coldest part of the US. Nobody seems to know how the nickname and penguin came to be, but we got a good chuckle from the silliness of it all!
From Cut Bank, we hopped on Hwy 2 and headed west to East Glacier. We were up early to beat the headwind, and did pretty well until a few miles outside of Browning. We knocked off the first 35 miles in 3 hours, then slogged the last 12 miles over a grueling 2 hours! But we were glad to have pushed through and to be in the cute small village of East Glacier. We found our way to the Backpacker Inn, behind Serrano's Mexican Restaurant (and managed out of the restaurant also), and lucked our way into a private room (just a few dollars more than two bunks).
Our visit to Glacier was short and we never made it the Going to the Sun Road (because it was crawling with traffic and tourists!), but we were still happy to have actually made it to the park. We rode out to Two Medicine Lake, where were were able to take in some of the area's magnificence. We were hoping to see some moose or bears (from a bit of a distance, of course), but only happened upon a few prairie dogs and cows. We know we'll head back there at some point, although we'll make sure that it's during the shoulder season, when Going to the Sun is closed to cars. From East Glacier, we hopped aboard a very late Amtrak train back to Oregon, to celebrate my brother's wedding and get ready for InterBike.
From Trains to Tourism: A Progress Report
- At August 17, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days, stories
- 14
One of the things that you tend to learn again and again when you're traveling is that plans don't always hold up. Things change constantly, and it's only negative if you make it that way. For us, this trip has been a long series of things not going the way we thought they would – in ways that we have enjoyed immensely, as well as ways that have been endlessly frustrating. As the summer prepares to draw to a close, we wanted to take a moment to take stock of our trip, and see how the reality has been measuring up with the lofty goals we set back in February.
For starters, our goals for this trip have ended up flip-flopping. We had wanted to hop on and off of the train to explore various parts of the US and Canada, as a way to invigorate multi-modal travel and make bike touring more accessible. And, as a sort of secondary goal, we wanted to look at the economics of bike touring, and explore our hypothesis that cycling could be a part of the answer to the economic revitalization of small towns. It has turned out that the economics of bike touring has been the more dominant issue.
1. After my ankle sprain, we used the recovery time to make some connections with folks in Oregon, and begin looking into the bike economics idea. We interviewed Rob Sadowsky of the BTA, Kristin Dahl of Travel Oregon, Tara Corbin and Jerry Norquist of Cycle Oregon, and Alex Phillips of Oregon State Parks. Each of these conversations demonstrated an actual impact, within the state of Oregon, from cycling – and it proved that we were on to something with our bike economics hypothesis.
2. Leads that we garnered from these conversations, and the Missouri River flood that closed an enormous stretch of Amtrak's Empire Builder train, caused us to change our initial route idea – and we headed out of Portland via Eastern Oregon, to sniff out some towns and businesses that have made changes because of cycling's impact. This new route, and the fact that the Empire Builder is the only train in the wider NW, meant that we never actually had the opportunity to take the Bromptons aboard Amtrak (even though it was so integral to our initial vision). Instead, we had to content ourselves with buses being the transit component (from Portland to Tillamook and back, from Portland to Bend, from Joseph to Wallowa Lake, from Bozeman to Great Falls).
3. As bike economics continued to be the dominant theme, we had the chance to meet some wonderful people who are working hard to entice cyclists into their communities. Maureen and Jeff of Sea Haven Motel, Beverly Calder in Baker City, Oregon, and Bill White of Twin Bridges' Bike Camp, to name a few. They've all been working independently, with an understanding that bikes can play into their local economies, and we were able to connect their stories into a larger string of anecdotal evidence of the impact of cyclists on small economies.
4. Making the move into video (while time-consuming and sometimes difficult to process on the road) has enabled us to document important insights into bike economics, bike tourism, multi-modal travel, and more. When we visited Adventure Cycling, for example, we were able to sit down and interview several staff members about ACA's work and impacts (videos forthcoming).
5. We still believe that this country needs a great rail system, and that it would be a perfect compliment to cycling. We've traveled through so many places that would benefit tremendously from rail – either by bringing in tourists or by providing another option for residents without cars. And we've passed dozens of train lines that are obviously no longer used for freight traffic, which has made us wonder why those should just fall into disrepair instead of being revitalized and made useful again. It's a radically progressive idea, we know, but we're pretty sure that a larger and improved rail system would connect cyclists to these small towns who are eager to have such cyclists visit, thus invigorating the economy in a completely new (and more sustainable) way.
Looking back, we have discovered that, sometimes, it's best to define goals in loose terms, instead of getting too fixated on the finer points. The details of our trip so far have looked very different from what we first imagined, but we have somehow been able to explore the issues and questions that intrigued us and led us to plan this particular trip. Each change has led to a new opportunity, and we are excited about a number of possibilities in the future. Plus, it turned out that we weren't the only ones delayed this year – because of the heavy snow year, Montana's legendary rivers were basically un-fishable until right when we got to them (meaning that if we'd been "on schedule," Russ wouldn't have been able to fish!).
Today, we finally get to board Amtrak – although, we won't yet be continuing our eastward trek. We are headed back to Oregon for a short interlude, because my brother is getting married! It feels too early in our journey for such a long break, but sometimes that's just how things work out.
As we look out onto the horizon, we can honestly say that we have no idea what comes after we head back to Oregon, and we're kind of excited about the varied possible directions we could take. We're planning to go to InterBike in September, hopefully with our Brompton touring guide in tow. We've committed to a panel presentation in October. We still want to get to the Midwest and Canada, but winter comes early out there, so maybe this fall isn't the best time to head in those directions. We want to continue advocating for cycle touring resources in the US. And, oh yeah, we want to get on a plane and travel overseas. But first, we want to take all of that video footage that we shot and put it together into a presentation that illustrates the positive impacts of cycling on small economies – and, hopefully, we can take that presentation on the road!
Missoula to Bozeman, Montana
- At August 08, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days
- 5
We spent a fantastic week in Missoula – hanging out at the Adventure Cycling office, interviewing some of the ACA staff, meeting lots of other cycle tourists, learning a bit about Missoula's bike advocacy, sampling some great local beers, shopping at the fantastic Saturday farmers' market, chatting on a local radio show!, and figuring out what the next leg of our adventures would look like.
We decided to do a bit of a Grand Montana Loop, so we headed south out of Missoula to a campground just south of Hamilton. In Hamiilton, we found a bike shop full of friendly, helpful people, and a fantastic brewery (Bitter Root Brewing). On the way there, we found delicious raspberry pie and a huckleberry milkshake. Crews are finishing work on a bike-ped path that will follow Hwy 93 from Lolo to Hamilton. It's finished and lovely, except for a 4-mile stretch after Victor, where we got to test out the dirt-riding capabilities of the Bromptons (they performed admirably!).
From Hamilton, we headed deeper and deeper into world-class fly-fishing territory. There were many fishing breaks, plenty of camping decisions based on where the good water is, and several days off (so that Russ could make the most of his annual fishing license). From Hamilton, we also headed into beautifully rural areas that felt like what we had envisioned as Montana – small wild west towns with gravel secondary roads, cowboys in Wranglers and boots, skies that seem to stretch on forever, and nothing on the horizon except the next set of mountains. This is a part of the country that has to be seen to be believed, and meandering slowly through it on a bicycle is a humbling experience.
From Hamilton, we continued south on Hwy 93, still following the ACA TransAm route. We stopped for lunch and coffee in Darby, and met two tourists nearing the end of their east-west adventure. Russ got the first two of what would be a string of flat tires (Montana has a lot of crap on their road shoulders!). We decided to camp that night at the Sula Store, just down the road from our Continental Divide crossing, and experienced our first Montana storm (which are amazing to behold). Russ patched his tire again and headed down the road to fish the river. A few hours later, I looked up to see him walking back to camp with a beautiful rainbow trout in his hands. Dinner! We lit a wood fire and grilled it up (strangely enough, I even had a lemon in my bag!). As the evening wound down, we crawled in the tent and watched the Mosquitos descend, waiting to attack if we ventured outside again.
From Sula, we had a 3000 foot climb ahead of us. The first 1000 feet were fairly gradual, through a bucolic ranch-filled landscape, and then the road tipped upward and the wind kicked up. Normally, you don't have a headwind when you're climbing a mountain, because the mountain blocks the wind, but that wasn't the case for us, and we trudged upward, trying to stay zen about the stop-you-in-your-tracks gusts. Eventually, we got to pull over to the side of the road for awhile… to patch Russ' third flat in 24 hours (did we mention there's a lot of crap on the road shoulders?!). Tire fixed, we continued on and finally made it to the top of the first pass. At the top, there's a nice rest stop with visitor info, and we took a long break and mused about how motorcycles have become quite hip with the baby boomer generation. From there, we turned onto Hwy 43 and climbed another mile to the crest of the Continental Divide! After the requisite photos, we soared down into the Big Hole valley. It was a perfectly enjoyable, steady downhill, at an easy 20mph, and then… pop! hissssssssssss… my back tire rapidly deflated itself and I steered off the road. Thank goodness we carry spare tires, because my tire was toast! By the time we rolled into the small town of Wisdom, we had battled headwinds, climbed 3000 feet, and lost our momentum twice from flat tires… so we called it a day and checked in to the Nez Perce Motel, a really lovely and recently remodeled small motel (at a very reasonable price!). And it turned out that Wisdom was a perfectly delightful random stop. We found a phenomenal restaurant with local beers on tap, cowboys wandering the dusty streets, and the annual Gun Show and Craft Fair.
The next morning, we hemmed and hawed about where we would go. Would we just go the 18 miles to Jackson, so that we could soak in the hot springs? Or push all the way to Dillon (66 miles)? We ended up going for Dillon, although we did stop in Jackson and check out the hot springs (which are lovely, FYI). Between Jackson and Dillon, there's basically nothing but ranches. No towns, no services. Just endless rolling fields and a few gradual climbs to get over the passes out of Big Hole valley. It was on the downhill after the first pass that Russ let his Brompton fly and hit 42mph! Just as we were tumbling into the edge of Dillon, I noticed that the horizon behind us was getting darker and darker. By the time we got into town, the darkness had become the edge of a seriously epic storm that looked a bit terrifying. We sprinted the rest of the way into town and found a coffee shop where we could hide. As we watched the trash cans roll down the street outside, we decided that a place indoors was definitely called for. And that's how we came to discover the best KOA ever! The folks that run the Dillon KOA were so impressed with all the cycle tourists that came through that they began offering a 25% discount! The regular price of their cabins was already better than the Motel 6, and with the discount we could afford to stay inside for two nights (and take a rest day in Dillon). We have had every manner of experiences with KOAs across the country. Because they are all independently run, there are slight price and operational differences between properties. Some KOAs have great tent prices, others not so much. The Dillon KOA is the most bike friendly one we've ever come across (or heard about) and we highly recommend it!
After a rest day in Dillon, exploring the town and doing some work, we headed up Hwy 41 to Twin Bridges. We had been hearing about the Bike Camp in Twin Bridges for awhile, and wanted to check it out for ourselves. There's not much to the small town, but there's a very smart man who started a discussion about building a facility to entice cyclists to stay and spend money in the community. Most of the town was extremely skeptical, but he and the other believers persevered, and today there is a gorgeous dedicated space for cyclists to stop and camp. There's a shower and restroom, a cooler, outdoor grill, information about local businesses, and a lovely screened shelter with tables. As we wandered through town, we stumbled into the Weaver's Studio and, in the course of small talk, Russ asked if the two men in the shop knew anything about the Bike Camp… and lo and behold, Bill was sitting right in front of us (the man who pulled it all together), and he graciously told us lots of stories about the process of putting in the Bike Camp and the reception from the town. One of our favorite bits of information… they've discovered (after starting to ask folks to fill out a short survey) that cyclists staying at the Bike Camp spend an average of approximately $25 per person per day in the town. (Video coming shortly.)
From Twin Bridges, we headed east through a string of small western towns. In Sheridan, we stopped for coffee. In Alder, we stopped for lunch at Chick's Bar (the food was surprisingly great!). In Nevada City, we stopped to look at the collection of old west buildings and drink a cold drink in the shade. In Virginia City, we marveled at the sheer number of tourists and shared a huckleberry milkshake. And then we climbed up and over the hill to Ennis. Just over the crest of the hill, there's a small pull-out with an astounding view of the Madison River Valley. We stopped to admire it and chatted for awhile with a couple who had also stopped to enjoy the view. As we were talking, we noticed that a huge storm was encroaching from the side of the hill we had just climbed. We high-tailed it down the incredible descent, but the storm got hung up by the hill and never pummeled us the way we thought it might. In Ennis, we found the Taco Bus and devoured some of their yummy tacos (real Mexican food!), before riding through downtown and setting up camp at a small Fish & Game campground beside the river (only $7 with Russ' fishing license!).
The next day, we hung around Ennis. We poked around the shops in downtown, ate at the Taco Bus again, and met several other cycle tourists. Oh, and Russ got to fish the mighty Madison River for many, many hours.
From Ennis, we climbed out of the Madison River Valley and slowly made our way to Bozeman. The ride is a series of rolling hills, winding beside the Madison River for part of the way (and a beautiful BLM campground that we wished we'd known about!). After awhile, we climbed one last big hill before descending into the Four Corners area (basically, a really big intersection with truck stops, casinos, mini marts, a Subway, a few fly shops, and a lone coffee cart). We enjoyed the randomness of the intersection and hung out for a bit before rolling into town to find our friends that we're staying with here.
One Month of Loaded Touring on the Bromptons, or 'No, it's not a Bike Friday'
- At July 29, 2011
- By Laura
- In Gear, POTW, Riding Days
- 13
I walked out of the supermarket the other day, pushing my folded and grocery-laden Brompton in front of me. Wheeling it around on the casters, I maneuvered it around the soda machine and the shopping cart return. As I started to put on my helmet and unfold the bike, I heard a now-familiar sound behind me, "Whoa… Is that a bike? That's the craziest thing I've ever seen."
Riding a Brompton is an invitation to repetitively answer this one question, and to continually blow people's minds. There's a moment, when we're rolling the folded Bromptons through a store or a restaurant, when it'll click in the head of an onlooker that this funny contraption is actually a bicycle. The tilted head and squinty expression (that betray the confusion and desperate attempt to understand what they're seeing) fade into a look of awe and amazement. I can honestly say that I love this moment.
Of course, that mind-blowing moment isn't always followed by a meaningful connection. Sometimes, we get to endure the inane comments and heckling of folks who've decided that we must be some sort of fantastic freaks for riding these circus contraptions. Or we have to hand over the bike to some random stranger who absolutely has to pick it up to see how much it weighs (hint: Bromptons are made of metal, just like most other bikes). And then there's the automatic assumption that they're Bike Fridays (which is a little maddening – not because we have anything against Bike Fridays, we just wish they hadn't cornered the US folding bike market).
These random frustrations aside, after a month of traveling on the Bromptons, we're pretty much pleased as pie. And if you've been wondering if they've actually lived up to our hopes and expectations, read on.
The first thing we can say about loaded touring on the Bromptons is that we are continually impressed with how well they handle the stress and strain that we heap on them. We are constantly asked about touring on the small wheels and if it makes life more difficult or sluggish – and we can honestly respond in the negative, because they've proved themselves to be much more rugged than we imagined.
We've lost track of how many mountain passes we've climbed up and over. But we haven't lost track of how many of those we were able to pedal every inch – all of them. We may only have six gears, but it turns out that they're the right six. Sure, there are times when we wish that we had another gear in the in-between, but we knew about this limitation when we chose the Bromptons, so we've learned to work with what we have.
The load capacity is, obviously, much less than our Surlys. In theory, we were thrilled by the need to lighten our load. In practice, we're still thrilled that we can't load them up any heavier – and, in fact, we're continually wishing that we could cull our gear even further.
Rigging the backpack to the back of the saddle has turned out to be a brilliant way to carry gear. Because of the small wheels, the weight of the backpack is low to the ground, keeping the center of gravity low. The backpacks hold a fair amount of stuff, in a streamlined fashion, without getting in the way of our pedal strokes or posture on the saddle. Which all adds up to us hardly noticing that there's that much weight on the back (except when I load my backpack with food!). Plus, the ability to break everything down into just three pieces (bike, front bag, backpack) has been invaluable for the transit connections we've made.
In all, we estimate that we're each carrying about 50 pounds of gear on the bikes. Like I said, we wish that we could lighten this load a bit – but mainly because we're just tired of schlepping around a world of stuff, not because we don't think the Bromptons can handle it. That said, though, 50 pounds of gear is probably at the upper limit of what a Brompton can appropriately handle.
One of the biggest downsides to riding the Bromptons is having to be more careful about road surfaces. They handle fine on smooth gravel or dirt (including most fire roads), but we have to be really cautious of bumps and a washboard surface. We have certainly pushed the Bromptons beyond what might seem prudent (including riding through a 4-mile stretch of highway yesterday that had been torn up to third world conditions), and they have performed admirably so far. But the small wheels don't roll over obstacles as well as larger wheels do, so vigilance is key. The same goes for railroad crossings!
Oh, and did we mention that it's really hard to change a tire on a small wheel?!
We both firmly believe that there is no such thing as a perfect bicycle, for touring or anything. What works for us may not work for someone else. After a month on the road, we feel like the Bromptons fit our style of touring really well – which is a slow, meandering style. We like the challenge of being minimalist, and we have no need to be super fast. We like to roll into a town and explore for a few days – and the folding nature of the Bromptons means that they translate beautifully into a city bike. As we look forward to, hopefully, heading overseas in the near future, we're convinced that the Bromptons are about as perfect (for us) as we could hope to find.
If you're interested in the particular specs of our Bromptons, read this previous post. If you have any questions we haven't answered, feel free to comment here or shoot us an email.
Hell's Gate, Idaho to Missoula, Montana
- At July 24, 2011
- By Laura
- In Riding Days
- 9
From Hell's Gate State Park, we headed down the road a few short miles to the town of Lewiston, Idaho. We decided to have a rest day indoors and catch up on some work and video editing. As the afternoon progressed, I put my shoes on to wander into town… and then, turning the corner to get to the elevator, I ran right into some friends from Portland! Paul and Caroline got married over the 4th of July weekend and are riding across the country for their honeymoon! Steph and Bonnie are riding with them as far as Glacier. We all had a good laugh that we'd wound up in the same hotel, and then we went out to dinner, and enjoyed our free drink in the smoke- and karaoke-filled hotel bar (yes, that's right, they gave us each a free drink ticket when we checked in!).
Leaving Lewiston, we hopped on the ACA Lewis & Clark Route, and followed Hwy 12 east. Hwy 12 is a terrible road for cycling. Far too much traffic and no shoulder. We took as many detours as we could, including riding a stretch of the old highway by the Nez Perce National Historic Park. We rolled into the small town of Orofino that afternoon, tired and hot, and checked into the Clearwater Crossing RV park. As we were checking in, we met two cyclists who had left Canada a few weeks before and were headed to Mexico and Cuba. They were ecstatic to see other tourists, and we told them they'd get more than their fill now that they were on an ACA route. Clearwater Crossing turned out to be one of the nicest RV parks we've camped at. Brand new, so the trees were still too small to provide shade, but the bathrooms were luxurious and pristine, the tent price was really reasonable, and there was a wonderful pavilion with electricity, all situated along the Clearwater River (and within walking distance of downtown). (Recommend!) That evening, a series of thunderstorms rumbled through, and we got to put our new tent through the paces and give it some good weather testing (it passed!).
From Orofino, we continued on Hwy 12 through the small towns of Kamiah and Kooskia. On the side of the highway between the two towns, we passed a woman selling salmon. At the sight of the hand-painted sign, I pulled off the road to scope out her offerings. She had both fresh and smoked salmon, recently caught and smoked locally by her husband, and we picked up a small package of smoked salmon. Later, we pulled off the highway to sit by the river and enjoy the salmon with some crackers. Absolute perfection! That evening, we camped at Three Rivers Resort, located at the confluence of the Clearwater, Lochsa and Selway Rivers. It's an older property that was showing its age, but the location was spectacular, and we happily made use of the wifi in their restaurant.
The next morning, we were up super early, to beat the traffic. Hwy 12 slowly winds its way upward toward Lolo Pass, following the Clearwater and Lochsa Rivers. It's an incredible road, flanked by national forest and wilderness areas. When there's no traffic, it's peaceful and an incredible experience to be so far-removed from civilization (there's no cell service for 150 miles). Unfortunately, cars and trucks are allowed on Hwy 12, and we saw all sorts of evidence that drivers couldn't handle the road: a mini-van nose-down in the river, a jack-knifed big rig, enormous rolls of toilet paper left-over from a big rig crash. I couldn't help but think that the road should just be closed to vehicular traffic and open only to those of us who could handle it: cyclists and hikers. That day, even though it was further than we wanted to ride, we decided to push ourselves all the way up to the Lochsa Lodge, especially after we passed a cycle tourist going the opposite direction who flagged us down to sing praises about the food and cabins. We were dead-tired when we rolled in, but the $45 cabin and phenomenal food made it all worthwhile. (The promise of good food will usually put enough wind in Russ' sails to go further or harder than expected, especially when it's the choice between a long day or chicken-out-a-can.)
From Lochsa Lodge, it was a short 14 miles to the summit of Lolo Pass. Ironically, we had gained more elevation the day before than we did actually reaching the summit. In other words, staying at Lochsa was a great way to make Lolo Pass seem really easy! At the top, we took a break at the visitors center and ranger station. They had a fantastic exhibit about the area, as well as free coffee and wifi! I had seen an image of a moose walking in front of the visitors center sign, and kept my eyes peeled in hopes of seeing one myself… but, alas, no moose appeared. The rangers also had the weather report posted, with promises of a very large thunderstorm that afternoon and evening, so we didn't dawdle too long at the top. Coasting downhill to Lolo Hot Springs, we passed several other cycle tourists, members of an ACA-led TransAm group – and had a chance to meet and chat with a few of the group, who were obviously having a blast on their trip! That night, we decided to pony up for another small cabin ($42, including entry to the hot springs), and we were glad we did when it stormed all afternoon and evening. The hot springs were fairly anti-climactic, not at all the romantic idea you have of mineral water seeping out of a pile of rocks (it's a swimming pool with the mineral water piped in), but it was delightfully soothing to all those exhausted muscles!
From Lolo Hot Springs, we had a quick morning ride, coasting downhill with a bit of a tailwind, into the small town of Lolo. All morning, we kept passing signs for 'Moose Crossing,' and I kept hoping and wishing for some moose to wander out into view (given that I've never seen one in person and think they look so fascinating in photos). 'It's okay, mooses, come out and say hi,' we called as we rolled down the road. And, then, just as I'd given up hope, something very large moved in the bushes to the right. I gasped, "it's a moose, no wait, it's an elk, no wait… what is it?!" I've only ever seen images of moose with antlers, so I never imagined that a she moose wouldn't have antlers (hello, city girl!). But, there she was, way too big to be an elk, and with a much different face. She ran off into the bushes before we could think to snap a photo, and I squealed with delight at finally seeing a moose. And then we headed the rest of the way into Missoula, stunned to actually roll into this city that we've so long thought about visiting.