Monthly Archives: June 2015

Fucking Up – The Fast Track to Learning Your Bicycle

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In 2010 I went on my first tour without an iota of bike fixing no how. Basically my understanding of bicycles was, you pedal, they move forward, you brake, they usually stop. I left home with a single multi tool that I had never used before, a set of allen keys and a portable plastic pump. I don’t even think I brought extra tube with me. I am sure I didn’t have any extra spokes. This would all seem like red alerts for future me of a bad situation festering and plotting, but past me, was oblivious to bike failure or it’s maintenance to avoid it.

And nature and the odds pitied me all the way to California. I had travelled hundreds of miles down the coast without a single issue with my bicycle. I had picked up the concept of bike chain lubing somewhere on the side of the road in Washington, so even the sound of my used jalopy was pristine. Nothing was out of line, the wheel was straight, and the brakes weren’t rubbing. From a current perspective, this possibly was the all too calmness before the storm, the sitting in your home, asleep, unaware that the heavens were black and swelling with conspiratorial storms in the works.

 

oooooooooooh, Klamath, California.

oooooooooooh, Klamath, California.

Then, in Klamath, California, under the awning of ancient, thick sequoia trees, the timer stopped unexpectantly. I was staying at a motel across from the large statue of Paul Bunyan and his Blue Bull that stood in the parking lot of the Trees of Mysteries, part theme park, part museum, part schlocky tourist trap. The motel had a restaurant attached to it. I was sole patron, made to look even more depressing, as I was drinking beer, with the accompanying meal being the sampler appetizers combo, which consisted of a lot of yellow fried things that are usually shared between 12 likeminded, intoxicated individuals.  Blech times 12. The taxidermy duck legs that hung down from the faux water ceiling and the stuffed bear at the entrance, which were features highlighted by dead fly filled florescents, encouraged me to pay my bill and seek food elsewhere. Back in my room I removed my panniers from my bike, Klalita, and rode towards the “town” nearby, which reportedly had a general store or mercantile of sorts. What I had forgotten to remove were the bungee chords that I used to secure my tent to my rack. They went unnoticed for about a kilometer in and a half, when all of a sudden, around 6:30pm or so, one of them twisted around the back cassette, tearing my chain in half.

 

An amazing meal...

An amazing meal…

“My trip is over…”

 

This was my first thought. As I carried my bicycle back from whence I came, I attempted to work out where I could catch a bus, with all my gear and bike, back to Canada. This minor atrocity, at the time, seemed like the destruction of my entire world. Yet, as I entered my room, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, as I washed my hands off of bike grease, I realized that while it seemed as if I was in the middle of nowhere, I really wasn’t. I was in the US of A, which had a plethora of amenities that could salvage my bicycle and the trip it was on. I had passed MANY bike shops and cyclists, so finding one of those was an option. But then I remembered….I HAVE TOOLS! I have no idea what they do or if they can help me, but it was a worth a shot trying to figure them out.

 

Amidst the repairs

Amidst the repairs

With a slow internet connection, I typed my bike issue into the Youtube search menu. 85 million results. 84 million of them were tutorials on how to fix a chain. I set to work, following the step by step guide. Though it took several hours for a job that would now take me ten to twenty minutes, the exhilaration of fixing my own bike was worth the struggle. I had discovered a new desire to know everything about bicycles, to be as self sufficient as possible on future tours, that I now knew I wanted to have.

 

The view from across the hotel -Klamath, California.

The view from across the hotel -Klamath, California.

The safety net of being in a country with a plethora of resources for cycle tourists and travelers of all levels made it an ideal first country to tour in and more importantly, make mistakes in. I recently saw on a forum a cyclist lambasting people for touring without knowing your bicycle inside and out. While I think, if I were to do this trip over again, I would have learned a few more key skills in regards to bike fixing, but I would also say that nothing really prepares you for fuck ups. And fuck ups themselves are great teachers, as well as put you in contact with great people, opening lovely dialogues about bicycles and beyond. I think it’s unfair to say YOU MUST KNOW EVERYTHING TO BICYCLE TOUR. That is elitism at it’s finest. I think a working knowledge of things can avoid problems down the line, but I also think that I would rather people get on their bicycles, then not get on their bicycles, because they feel they are not part of the “club”, own a crazy amount of lycra or are dissuaded to tour, because of their lack of bike know-how. I know several non-cyclist cycle tourers who know enough about bikes. The rest, they fill in along the way. And sometimes you just need to improvise. In the end, it will all work out and you’ll feel the exhilaration of coming to a solution, whether it is the tried and true way, or the wonderfully creative and makeshift approach.

She Will Be Mine, Oh Yes, She Will be Mine – My Travel Bucket List Part 1

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The final resting place of many Orange/Nassau Royals in the New Church of Delft.

The final resting place of many Orange/Nassau Royals in the New Church of Delft.

 

If you didn’t get the Wayne’s World reference from the title don’t feel too bad (you should still see if it you would like to see a mocking satire of Middle America in the Early 90s or just want a silly laugh). The sentiment is, rather than wishing my travels to come to fruition, is see them as a very deliberate and calculated plan of my life choice. Wanderlust, isn’t lustful in that it is unattainable, it is so because it is unquenchable. Whether these places come into play on this World Tour or my next or next transcontinental excursion doesn’t matter, because for me, they are eminent either tomorrow or the near future. For me, the near future is in the context of the greater scheme of this universe, so 20 or 30 years, compared to millions, is blip, so small it is unavailable to the human eye. Wow. Deep intro mannnnnn. Without further adieu, in no order my travel bucket list at this second. Just to let you know, the pictures are simply things to look at from my past travels, not actual representations of the places on my list.

 

 

The main square of Delft

The main square of Delft

The Southern States

 

Now, I have been to So Cal, so let me clarify. When you think of Southern America, THAT’S the South that I would like to see. I needn’t say more to aid you in filling in such archetypal blanks. Not only does the South contain a very interesting history, seem to seethe with unpretentious swagger and have the coolest accents in North America, asides from Newfoundlanders, they also have a culture, that that contains many mouth watering, barbequey components. To be blunt, a trip down South for me, would be a 24 hour “stuff my face with all the food I see” kind of trip. Oh yeah, Graceland….BUT FOOD, OY VEY, FOOD. I wouldn’t expect leaving there without uncontrollable meat sweats and at least an appreciation for radio stations that do NOT play Kenny Chesney.

 

Delft

Delft

Italy – All of It

 

Continuing the theme of food, Italy has been on my radar for a long time. In fact, my first solo European bike trip was supposed to be through Italy. In a crumpled, well loved Michelin Map Book, I have outlined a route that would take me somewhere between 5 months to ten centuries to complete. Every town is dotted and jotted with notes about what to see, what to eat. The notes are additionally highlighted, bolded and underlined to express the importance and dire need to see and eat these places. Each small town has it’s specialty, that’s why it seems so unfair to blanketly describe it as all Italian food. It seems to disregard the intricacies of each region’s own flavor, each one’s own take off or complete abandon of an Italian culinary through line. History is also important to me, especially the detailed specifics about certain famous or infamous characters of the past. The histories written by Plutarch and Herodotus are rife with gossip, hearsay and blatant fabrications, but the stages for all these described events, still exists to be explored.  Italian pride in it’s glorious past has left much of it intact and yet I always have this fear that I have to see it sooner than later, before a natural disaster or violent upheaval takes them from us. I was in Rome for a month and I still feel like I didn’t see enough. I felt I merely glanced upon the surface without fully diving in. I think I would require forever times two to fully get the all-encompassing Italian experience.

 

The Old Church, Delft.

The Old Church, Delft.

Iran

 

If having some of the oldest and grandest cities in the world and being the cradle of one of history’s most powerful empires doesn’t spark any interest in you, then we probably wouldn’t make good travel buddies. Ancient civilizations fascinate me, in part due to their epic mythos, but also that their legacy is still prominent, echoed in large scale building projects that have stood the test of time and now act as story tellers for new generations who visit them. The centre of this world was Persepolis, where the seat of Darius the Great once sat, only to be topped by another great, a curly haired Macedonian, named Alexander. Iran is the classic new meets old, as a modern version of itself struggles against it’s ancient stereotype to be global relevant, as well as accepted. Iran is North Americancentrically portrayed as a bad guy and a generic one at that, similar to the Russian bond villains. This is also why I am interested in visit Iran and many other countries that are unfairly categorized as such. Because I am told not to go and when I ask them “why?”, the usual response is, because “they say it’s dangerous”. Who are these “they” that I am trusting? What’s at stake for them to keep me in line as such. Selfishly, I feel as it is a minor act of rebellion to do so. Or at least, that is how it could be perceived. Simple and plain, I don’t buy into the hype, unless I hear of it first hand.

Again, I will be posting my own wishlists throughout this process not to hint at where I’d like the bike trip to proceed to, but simply to spark ideas and create a dialogue between lovers of bikes and far off lands (or not so far off places). What’s on your wishlist? Post it in the forums and/or in a comment below!

Sincerely,

Ira – The Misguided Guide of Each Mile

 

Beautiful stain glass, main church of Gouda.

Beautiful stain glass, main church of Gouda.

Inspirational Each Milers: The Anyone Can Do It World Tour

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My first cycle tour, outside of Pea Soup Andersen's in Buellton, California.

My first cycle tour, outside of Pea Soup Andersen’s in Buellton, California.

When I set forth 5 years ago on my first tour I knew very little about the two-wheeled vehicle that I was sticking between my legs and riding down to Mexico. As time has passed, and tours have been completed, little by little I have learned along the way what I need to make basic adjustments, repairs and have some vague idea how to live out of a tent. I still am slow at all of this, still look awkward when I am keeled over my bike, investigating a problem and still put the wheel on backwards now and again, after fixing a flat.

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I hesitate to label myself a cyclist, because I am put off by many of the associations that the name may imply, especially a snooty, elitist, sectarian attitude towards bike culture. I’ve met these type of cyclists and it has nothing to do with whether they wear a lycra bibby or have the top of the line, carbon framed road bike. They come from all different walks of life, all shapes, lycra wrapped or sporting a worn bike hat, rim flipped upwards, freely wagging in the breeze due to a lack of a helmet, lawyers and bike shop employees, 1st handers and 3rd handers, all who consider themselves the second coming, prophets on pedals, with their heads so far up their own asses, they can’t see how ridiculous their own pomposity comes across. I dislike these swines, not only for how they act, but the fear they imbue in others in regards to bicycles. They make cycle enthusiasts feel inferior, that they do not know enough about their bicycles to use them, that all their cycle questions are too simple, amateur and downright idiotic. People are scared to step into certain cycle shops and bike coops due to this feeling. Now some of this is self perpetuated, but there is also the “better than thou” complex of “hardcore” cyclists that enforce it, insinuated by their use of overtly technical lingo and snide lambasting of other’s lack of knowledge. “WHAAAT, YOU CAN’T CHANGE A SPOKE??? OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” Hey asshole, you have to start somewhere! It’s like job applications in Vancouver. How am I suppose to have three years serving experience, if all jobs for servers require at least three years serving experience.?

 

For me, inspirational Each Milers are those who have influenced me, helped me without a single bit of elitism, creating and promoting a positive environment surrounding the bicycle. First and foremost, they believe that everyone should be able to participate in the culture, ride bikes to their hearts’ content, free from judgment and insult. If they ride with you, sure they could race ahead, never unclip, never stop, for their legs have the strength and diameter of Redwood sequoias, but they would rather ride beside you, explain the mise en scene, compliment your ride, stop for a beer or two. They never scoff at your questions, but greatly invite them, teaching you in hopes that you will pass the knowledge on to someone else, to continue to inspire people to cycle farther, to cycle more, to cycle through whatever the sky decides to do any given day, to test the preconceived limitations of distance and elevation and exceed them.

 

Kevin stops from cycling around the world to have a much needed dance break with me.

Kevin stops from cycling around the world to have a much needed dance break with me.

Several of these inspirational Each Milers are locals, like the lovely people at Bikes on the Drive, who are constantly happy to answer all my bike questions, pass along great and sincere information and are excited by my future cycle endeavors. A few inspirational Each Milers are abroad, like Kevin, a cyclist from Belfast, who I met through Couchsurfing. I hosted him, when I lived in Beijing and my girlfriend at the time, was sure I would disappear with him at nightfall, joining him on his world domination via two wheels and self penned guitar tunes. He had cycled from home to Beijing and continued onwards, by boat across to North America, cycling north to the Arctic, before turning around and heading down through Latin America. He is a down to earth soul, immensely inspiration, funny as fucking hell and a WAY TOO talented son of bitch for his own good. In fact, some shameless promotion for him, he is on a cycling trip as I type this from Belfast to Australia, which you can follow at: http://www.cycle2sydney.com/

 

Beijing Bike, Blue Steal - Inanimate Inspirational Each Miler

Beijing Bike, Blue Steal – Inanimate Inspirational Each Miler

And lastly, there are the inspirational Each Milers that are the nameless faces I have met along the many ways I have gone. From some hilarious Serbian cyclists in Turkey, to an old German lady, who I met in the middle of the forest, who cycled with me to find the rest of my group, these are the people that I admire and call my personal heroes. They don’t look at your bike and how you are dressed and roll their eyes or wait until you shut up so they can tell you what you are doing wrong and what they are doing right. They are real people, willing to listen, laugh and live within the moment, rather than tearing it to pieces. These are the inspirational Each Milers that make a world tour something that does not sit unattainable on a pedestal, but something that if you, you being anyone, want to do, no second thoughts, caution be the wind, do it, do it and do it again. Unpretentious, unregulated bliss.

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