Photo of the Day – Love on the Wooden Pier

Sun and summer are synonymous. It’s not really summer without sun, and sun is just a giant light source when it’s not summer. In San Clemente and much of Southern California, this is not the case. After some miserable bike issues the day before (nothing like female issues, but still they seem to always happen at the “not right now” times in life), I spent my first day with my now really good friend Claire. San Clemente is a beach culture, so that’s where we headed. I have lived next to it my whole life, but I always feel the ocean is a stranger that I have to reintroduce myself to and listen to it for hours on end to get to know it again. It’s so eloquent and has endless stories that like the breeze and waves, have no start or end.

Claire was a hooper, so she hooped, one, two, three hoolas and I filmed. It would be the last bit of footage I would film on my way down the coast. My camera jammed with sand, grit and adventure took a much deserved break. We walked the white wooden pier. Seagulls yelled at from the skies above at the diners at the pier’s high falooten food establishment with the constant sun etching expressions of contentment on their faces. A random cute couple, arm in arm, stared out towards the twinkling dusk coastline. I asked to take their picture, I didn’t know them, but I think those are the best pictures anyways. People being themselves, happy in a moment on a pier, regardless of the scraggly bearded traveller snapping their evening bliss on digital memory sticks.

A Couple's Bliss on a Pier in San Clemente

Each Mile – A Lost Puppy Finds A Way

Hello Everyone,

My name is Ira Cooper and this is the first post, of many, for Each Mile, a blog and episodic travelogue about my experiences, trials and tribulations in inexperienced, world bike touring.

Why do I say inexperienced? Well, when I decided to bike from Vancouver to Mexico last year I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. I hadn’t biked more than probably 30 km in a row. Down the coast wise, that wouldn’t even get me out of this country. But that was the plan, down the coast, for two months. The consequence of doing so, a mere after thought probably processed at the American border where I was greeted with the I 5 and 20 km headwind.

“Why” is what psychiatrists and court room drama show viewers are most interested in. But what they aren’t too keen on is “I don’t know” as the answer. As I look back on it, I make up a plethora of logical sounding reasons; I wanted to prove that I could do it, I was bored. But really, to be dreadfully honest even if it doesn’t give you that tantalizing soundbite to make you want to follow my writing discourse, I really don’t know why I did what I did. What I do know is that from day one, biking was shot carelessly into my blood and everyday I fiend for a fix.

In February I bought my then unnamed black stallion. She cost me $220 and a not for profit bike shop, Our Community Bikes (http://pedalpower.org/our-community-bikes/), which is a wonderful place that everyone should check out if they want to learn, fix, indulge in bike-y-goodness. I attached a flashlight to her, some paniers, a sleeping bag and towels, a tent that a borrowed from a friend and never returned, snug to the back with of my steed with bungee cord. Since I wanted film as I travelled, I also brought a ridiculously heavy backpack with additional supplies. I didn’t really understand what clipless was, so bike shoes were out and Lugz were in. By day two, my spandexy, bulge inducing biking shorts started their new residency on the side of Chucknut Drive, just outside of Bellingham.

I had a GPS that made sure I was going in the right direction and a few tools that I had no idea how to use. On March 16th I was off. Go Pro? Go Handheld (another thing I realized I probably shouldn’t have done). The first few episodes I tried to make the show kitsch with a “hilarious” intro.  Hope you enjoy Episode 1 of Each Mile: