The Pondering Cyclist

Moving on down the road...

2012-01-21T19:21:00.000-08:00

The dynamic duo from Biking With Intent has finally gotten back on the road and are headed from Dallas to Austin and I for one will truly miss them.

It's been a great two weeks, I have gotten to know both Miranda and John very well and they are an amazing couple of people. Their energy has reawakened a desire to trip the light fantastic, see what all is possible and Just Do It.

John has his new bike, a Surly Long Haul Trucker to replace the Cross Check which was burgled in Austin, it was a horrible event but in the end it all worked out and might even be better off with the new set up.

Good luck guys, I'll miss you and, you never know, I might just meet you out there on the road some time in the future ;)

Vibrancy is: A Bicycle Standing Still

2012-01-16T23:37:00.000-08:00

Riding around Austin with John and Miranda from Biking With Intent. This was only hours before John's bike was stolen while in the middle of a cross-country bike tour.
Photo John Caruso.

Biking With Intent

2012-01-15T08:28:00.000-08:00

Photo by John Caruso

A couple weeks ago I met a couple bike trippers who are touring their way from Sarasota, Florida to Mt. Shasta, California. Unfortunately one of the two -- John -- had his bike stolen. Now, with his new steed nearly built and ready it is nearing time for his and Miranda's departure.

Check out their website BikingWithIntent.com and read John's most recent post here.

And look for another couple posts from me in the near future! See you out on the road!

Road Rage Down South

2012-01-12T08:13:00.000-08:00

Way down south to be precise! While on their round-the-universe bike tour Laura Crawford and Russ Roca discovered how easy it is for another person to fly off the handle.

Generally when I think of New Zealand I think of the kind of beauty you'd see in a Lord of the Rings movie -- sharp mountains, rolling green hills and beautiful coasts. This is definately true, however Russ found that beauty can turn around and smack you in the face if you aren't careful!

Something similar happened to me a couple years ago, but in Texas.

What can we take from this? No matter what happens on th road all we can do is smile and wave. We have to remember that a 30,000 pound truck is NO match for a 200 pound man on a 25 pound bike. Be careful out there, guys!

2011-12-29T18:40:00.000-08:00

I know, I haven't updated the 'ol Blog in a while -- a month -- BUT here is a new copy of The Racing Post that's hot off the presses!!!

And I promise I'll have NEW and EXCITING content up soon!

Click here to see read January's online edition!

And a big congrats to my buddy Tim for making the cover, it's looking like his 2012 season will be a good one! Keep it up, man!

2011-12-09T18:43:00.001-08:00

Check out the December edition of The Racing Post! Read it either online or printed on actual paper, whichever way you'd like it's FREE!

2011-11-25T21:29:00.001-08:00

Photo courtesy Josh DeLeon

Sometimes in life, like on a ride, you have to simply follow your instincts. The best times are when you MIGHT get lost. You have to trust yourself and know the general direction of travel!

Photo courtesy Josh DeLeon

Reminds me of the Frost poem:

Two roads diverged in a wood,

and I, I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Today was an amazing day -- post-Turkey Day -- 55 miles total, all on my new fixie-cross bike! 37 on gravel, dirt/mud and some amazing roads with some great friends through a corner of Dallas County which most people don't know exist! Cheers to exploring!

Trippin' in 2012

2011-11-23T13:02:00.001-08:00

It was a few years ago when I made the goal for myself to always improve, an upward arc if you will. Every year since then I strive to better myself and make every year better than its predecessor. I simply would not be happy otherwise. For 2012 I'll once again be hitting the road, except this time the road will be a series of trails.

That's right, I'm tired of looking back at all the pictures from my Trans-Western trip and wishing I were back Out There, On the Road. Living. I need it. And since there hasn't been a day thus far when I haven't dreamed of doing something similar I figured I might as well plan another outing and do what I love the most.

"What is it this time, Zac? Another 14 week trip or are you heading out for a year this time?"

No, nothing quite like that -- for now. In March I'm going to return to Durango where I'll meet up with my friend Lee. I met Lee in Dallas about a month ago and after chatting with him over the course of a couple weeks learned that the two of us are the same sort of crazy. It was then that this next trip started forming itself.

You see, Lee lives in Silverton when not in Dallas and loves to head across the border in to Utah. Moab, the White Rim, The Maze, all are places he knows and where we will be exploring and riding at the end of March.

A couple weeks ago I stumbled across Grizzly Adam's blog about riding the White Rim in one day and it changed my life. The idea of an off-road century turns me on. I want to explore the limits of my body and mind by entering the world of Endurance Mountain Biking.

But 100 miles in an area like Moab, though, that's a whole other ball game. I can't wait. BUT! I'm not done yet!

During this same trip Lee and I plan on making our way West, past Moab to a little corner of the world called The Maze. You might remember it if you've ever read The Monkey Wrench Gang. I am so very excited for this, we'll require a full on four-wheel drive, off road truck just to make it in, four hours from anything resembling civilization.

Campsites and areas with names like The Finns, Chocolate Drops, and Ernie's Land are where we'll be for four days. With our bikes! 20, 40, 50 mile rides everyday!

This is all in preparation for another trip, in July, which will be even more amazing -- and MUCH longer! But more on that later.

2011-11-15T13:25:00.001-08:00

What's better than bike racing, touring and all that is cycling lifestyle? Reading about it! Head over to The Racing Post to see what you've been missing and as usual it's free at your local bike shop!

Oh, Canada!

2011-10-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

I just read a great article from the Canadian newspaper, The Star, focusing on how the US has placed an entrance fee upon Canadian travelers entering the United States. On my Facebook page I mentioned how while this is only a small fee of $5.50 it does nothing to help our relations with our neighbor to the north.

You would think that in a time of economic turmoil we would open our arms to travelers from all over the world so they might come over and experience our culture -- and spend their money. However we aren't, we're slapping a silly fee on them.

The last time I went to Canada I was detained and eventually denied entry to their country. The reason? I wasn't able to support myself for the duration of my stay and they were afraid I would simply not ever leave. Now, Vancouver, BC is one of the most beautiful places on this planet but I'm sure I would eventually want to leave.

You see, my mom happens to be a flight attendant, that means I don't need a ticket like most people. I simply call and list for a flight, go to the airport and hop on a plane. the Vancouver Airport Police didn't understand this, and with my inability to provide a return ticket they were worried. And they saw my backpack loaded down with a tarp, rain gear, alcohol Pepsi-can stove, and weeks worth of oatmeal.

"What is this guy doing? he must be smuggling drugs..." (I did look like this at the time)

I eventually made it back to the US, flew to San Francisco and had a trip of my lifetime. Want to read more about it?

Journey of Self Determination or: How To Regain Controll of My Universe By Letting Go

What Would Janis Do?

First Class Ticket to a new Perspective...

The Beauty of People

Arlington Zombie Ride

2011-10-26T09:09:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Lindsey Juarez

What happens when Zombies figure out how to ride a bike? Read Sarah Lutz's Cyc-ology blog and find out! I can tell you that we rode around the Ranger's Stadium during the World Series Game 3 and got some great spectator responses!

Tandem Zombies! Photo Sarah Lutz

A Better Bridge: Making way for the Human Element within the Big City

2011-10-23T15:37:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy the Dallas Observer

Yesterday saw the people of Dallas turn a bridge built for motorists into a place where people in the community can walk, play chess and look through binoculars to see the Great Trinity Forrest below their feet. An awesome accomplishment by Jason Roberts of Oak Cliff which left Dallas City Council members asking "why can't we do this NOW?"

Guest Post: A Bicycle Party

2011-10-13T16:42:00.000-07:00

“What is wrong with those people?”

On a lonely shoulder just south of the sprawling Metroplex, the Pondering Cyclist and I pushed on into the wind and rain. Our legs were tired and cold and back at camp, most of our friends had called in for a ride home. Motorists flew by and looked at our sad and soggy backs, wondering why anyone in their right mind would be out on a bicycle in this mess. But if they had grabbed a look in their rearview mirror, they would have seen two beaming smiles laughing at the wind, oblivious to any downside.

Two days earlier, the crew of the UTA Maverick Bike Shop left our humble closet/workshop with 12 brave souls in all. Some were on bikes borrowed from the shop while others rode a mix of mountain and road bikes loaded for a weekend camping trip to Cedar Hill State Park. The only thing that varied more than the bikes were the riders. Experiences ranged from almost none at all to daily commuters as well as former racers.

Start of the trip at the MAC at UTA. We started Friday afternoon with 12 brave souls and only 2 of us ended up riding back in the rain on Sunday.

This of course made the ride to camp a bit of a challenge. The group would stretch out, catch up at lights and intersections, pull into parking lots to regroup, whatever was needed to keep everybody together. I’ll admit to getting frustrated with the pace at points. I tried to keep the rabbit of the group, a friend on his Surly Cross Check commuter bike, in check at the front and often we’d pull over to make sure everyone would regroup.

Eventually, at one stoplight, I came up next to one of the bikes that had spent a lot of time in the back of the group. It was a borrowed tandem that had begun the morning with no wheels. A young Indian couple had decided to ride it for the trip and after getting the bike together, the shop set them up with a trailer as well. Between their friends helping them load down the trailer, not having ridden a bike much, and a particularly strong headwind for most of the way, it had been slow going for them. You would expect them to be miserable. But as we left the light, I looked over at his face and there was only a smile. No grimace or signs of fatigue; just a smile.

On the way there we took the dam that borders the north end of Joe Pool Lake. With no turns ahead and a few miles of no cars, I took the opportunity to stretch my legs up front. After finding a comfortable pace, the Pondering Cyclist pulled up and decided I wasn’t going fast enough. So he pulled me along and we chatted while fighting the crosswind and took in the view of the lake with flowing, silver waves under a glowing, cloudless sky.

At the campsite, we met up with another group that rode out from Switching Gears Cyclery in Dallas. The shop owner, Colin, brought a group of four riders as well as a follow car driven by his girlfriend, Andee. Along with the follow car, he also brought a lovely propane camp stove and a palatial six-person tent; luxuries usually forgone with Spartan bike camping, but indispensible to cooking for large groups.

The two groups mixed and shared stories about the ride over. Our shop manager, Ellie, brought out some pizza and we spent the next few hours talking into the night. We wandered out to the edge of the lake and the heavily receded shoreline. We even spotted a skunk several times throughout the night wandering the dried up beach.

The campgrounds were so thoroughly dry when we got there, huge dried out crevices scarred the hills. One even made for a sufficient bicycle stand. Mother nature remedied the dryness the second night on into the morning and most of the day.

The next morning, a small group took a ride to downtown cedar Hill to pay a visit to local favorite Sam’s Pizza. We started the ride by climbing out of the park and turning south straight into the wind and up a hill that kept our max speed to about 15 mph. It was painful, but if anyone mentioned it, it was only to yell excitedly with a huge grin.

What happened next can only be described as the magic of cycling. Upon approaching downtown Cedar Hill, every road to Sam’s was blocked off with lots of commotion on the other side. A nice lady informed us that we can’t go that way until the parade is over.

“Parade? What parade?”

It was Country Day on the Hill, the streets were bustling with people and vendors while music and delicious smells hung in the air. I call this moment the magic of cycling because while the bicycle riders exchanged high-fives and asked, “How cool is this?” several folks in cars drove by and, when told they aren’t allowed down that road just yet, immediately flashed looks of frustration.

After making our way through the crowd and an amazing lunch at Sam’s we wandered the festival, taking in the spectacle. We watched the band for a bit, got a kick out of 5 or 6 little kids dancing, perused to produce stand and bought some homemade hot sauce and jams. We even had a nice chat with the Cedar Hill Tea Party who said “Why not?” to bike lanes and gave us some small American flags which found homes on our bicycles for the remainder of the weekend.

A gift from the Tea Party of Cedar Hill.

The ride back was a nice break from the headwind of the previous day and the ride over. The wind was to our backs and the road fell downward. I found the hardest gear the bike had and the Pondering Cyclist and I hit about 40 mph and jumped over a couple of lanes in front of cars afraid to pass us as we made our left turn back into the park.

As night approached, so did the storm. While the sun fell, the campers watched the lightning show over the lake, waiting for the rain to come. Colin cooked up some chicken and onions on the propane stove as the temperature dropped and the rain jackets came out. The rain sputtered on and off, but the radar told us the night on into the morning would be a different story.

I awoke to spots of on and off rain. A quick glance at the radar on my phone (camping in the 21^st century) told me that an onslaught was coming. I got up quickly, dressed and packed my gear. We watched as the once dry dirt was pummeled into a slurry of thick clay as we stood under the awning at the Swtiching Gears site. The longer we stood, the worse it got.

7 campers from UTA had returned the previous day. Three more found rides in dry cars. Only one camper from Dallas had ridden his bicycle back. Once I announced I was about to head out on my bicycle the Pondering cyclist, almost ready to call it in himself, decided that I shouldn’t be the only one having all the fun. So off we went, into the elements.

And there we were, having as much fun as we’ve had all weekend. At every turn, a smile. At every roadblock, a new adventure. Every headwind a losing battle against Mother Nature you immediately give in to, but still enjoy deep down. And drivers look on, with a mixed expression of confusion and consternation, asking, “What is wrong with those people?”

Jonathan Whitney has over the years 'down graded' from motorcycles to bicycles but don't worry, he still loves to go fast on two wheels. Currently enrolled at the University of Texas- Arlington studying aero-space engineering and working part time at the Maverick Bike Shop he is a true rebel. Just don't mention Ben Spies because he won't be able to control himself and might start giggling like a school girl.

2011-10-12T20:36:00.000-07:00

Do you like to explore? Love to ride your bike, camp, meet people or experience amazing places and things? Im looking for you! Yes, I'm opening my blog up to other open-minded people who want to share what is whithin themselves and what they love to do. Interested? Send me an EMAIL and let's talk!

Im really looking forward to what might come from this! See you all down the road!

Rain Gear and Bike Tripping

2011-10-12T08:07:00.000-07:00

It’s beginning to look a lot like... FALL! Here in Texas we are finally starting to see the weather change – I actually put on pants the other day – the mornings are cooler and this wet stuff fell from the sky which I haven’t seen in ages. Rain.

The wonderful, if not drizzly, Fall weather as seen through my yellow-tinted sunglasses. Yellow lenses are a great way to brighten up a dark day.

Yes, it’s that time of year to start talking about rain gear. I don’t know about you but I’d rather not stop riding simply because it’s drizzling out. I love riding in the rain, some of my favorite times on a bike have been during showers, when all your energy is going to moving forward even as you lean sideways in to the crosswind.

But you don’t have to ride during thunderstorms or when it’s hailing like I do to realize how important a good rain jacket is.

Our group about to leave the Maverick Bike Shop at UTA to ride out to Cedar Hill State Park. "Oh, it's only 13 miles!" Actually it was 22 miles of crazy head winds. Thank you Jonathan Whitney for the photo.

This weekend gave me a great opportunity to test out rain gear while out on a group bike-camping trip to the lake. Starting out with nearly perfect conditions (save that hellacious south wind) it was hard to keep the additional weight of my rain shell in my bag but I knew better than to take it out. This time of year in Texas is like any other day in the mountains, you never know what Mother Nature might throw at you.

After 20 miles of us beating our heads against the wall of wind we made it to camp, ate some food and got to relax. The next day was equally enjoyable with a ride to Cedar Hill for its Country Day on the Hill Festival where we sampled some of the most amazing salsa ever. But that night it all started to change.

Jeremy had to go over to the stage to check out the Saxophonists' skills and liked what he heard. Unfortunately we didn't get a photo of him skipping like a schoolboy while holding his free balloon. Oh well! Photo: Jonathan Whitney

We had front row seats the laser-light show of the century as we sat on the bank of the lake and watched the storm roll in. This, though, wasn’t just any old rain cloud. Looking at Google we saw a storm system the size of Alaska moving ever so slowly toward us. But we were ready!

I have two pieces of raingear which I have learned to love and a few other items which are also very important but, just like everything else, it’s not always right for the situation. But more on that later.

Rain Jacket and Pants:

Last winter I got a pair of Craft cycling rain pants and quickly fell into a great relationship with them. Quite simply, they’re awesome. With mesh above the crotch and butt to allow heat to escape as well as a Velcro strap to streamline the lower leg so the fabric is away from the frame and drivetrain they are about as perfect a rain pant as I could imagine. And my jacket? Yeah it’s nice, too! Simple, light and easy to use it also includes a cool hood that has a small visor and a very useful rear pull cord that cinches the sides of the hood out of your peripheral vision.

And yes, I prefer the two-piece suit to the poncho. We aren’t backpacking here, we’re riding bikes.

The question of the day was whether or not to put your helmet under or over the hood. While riding I actually don't use the hood, it gets much too hot. Notice the rain pants, get some and you'll understand.

But!

While it was nice to have this standing beneath the awning, crowded shoulder to shoulder around the picnic table it quickly got a little warm when the two of us who decided to ride back rather than sag in started off down the road and up the hills. Sure, the temperature was in the low 60’s (cold to us Texans) but wrap your body in plastic and it suddenly feels like a sauna.

You see, rain gear does a damn good job keeping water out but it is also a vapor barrier. This means that as you ride your body will begin to warm up to a point that is much hotter than the temperature outside. This not only makes you sweat but condensation will start to collect inside the rain suit. This is what I don’t like.

I grew up racing on the road and unless it was 30 degrees and raining outside I wouldn’t wear a rain jacket. Sure, I would wear a wind vest, arm warmers, tights – all of that – but not the Plastic Suit.

It’s because I was working so hard, I would get hot and I needed ventilation! Now a days I don’t ride quite so fast and my wardrobe is starting to resemble that of a traditional bike tourist’s but not totally. And the ride home from our campsite, sweating like a madman inside my Polypropylene Sarcophagus reminded me of this!

I’ll still bring my rain suit because it’s nice to have that super-light shell but while riding it really just depends on my pace and whether or not it’s really cold enough. But then again, personal preference reigns, do what you want, experiment and find out what works for you!

Aside from all that the one article of gear that is incredibly handy to have for rainy excursions is a cycling cap. Just flip the brim down over your eyes and you can ride all day and still be able to see the road! Even in a downpour!

2011-10-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

What camp DOESN'T need a good dog?

Thank you Jonathan Whitney for this awesome pic!

2011-10-09T15:37:00.000-07:00

When I see an adult on a bicycle I do not despair for the future of the human race. --H.G.Wells

Paving the Way

2011-10-09T15:21:00.000-07:00

I met with one of my readers last week to discuss the idea for an event that would unite the cycling clans of Dallas, Fort Worth and Arlington. It was a great time but what I took away from it was a history lesson and new respect for what we now do every day.

Tim is a cyclist but also has a great affinity for history. Specifically Texas history. He told me the story of Tom Monagan who in 1870 rode from Dallas to Fort Worth on a high wheeler (also called an ordinary or penny farthing) in one day.

Tom Monagan, Courtesy of the Dallas Historical Society

I know, “Fifty miles in one day? That’s easy, I do that every day I go ride!” Well, in the days before pneumatic tires, when men rode bikes whose wheels were tread with iron bands, and the idea of a road as we think of it today was something no one now can even comprehend, well, it was a feat to be celebrated!

You have to remember that back in the day wheelmen, as they were called, were fighting for roads as we do today but they were fighting to have an alternative to a rutted out dirt track which when wet would turn in to an impassable bog. They got what they wanted after the formation of the League of American Wheelmen who later went on to lobby the government for the very first interstate system. Yes, cyclists are responsible for the roads that are driven on by all those gas-guzzling Suburbans who try to run us off of OUR roads. Funny.

Tim gave me the transcript to a later newspaper article which was written on Dec. 5th 1892 where seven wheelmen left Dallas to ride all the way to Fort Worth.

A Bicycle Party
Makes a Run to Fort Worth Yesterday

Yesterday afternoon, five tired wheelmen came in to Fort Worth, having been on the road from Dallas since 9 in the morning.

When the party started, it numbered seven, but one fell at Grand Prairie and another at Handley, the five continuing the fight against rough roads and a head wind until Fort Worth was reached. The starters were: W.L Springfield, H.M Covey, John Toieller, W.M Sechheimer, Chas. Phillips, P.T. Eutrikan, L.W. New.

The two last named were the ones who dropped out of the tour. Five of the Starters were L. A. W. men.

It is not any sense a matter for surprise that these two gentlemen stopped, but more a matter for surprise that any come on. After leaving \Trinity bottom, this side of Dallas, it was almost a continuous succession of ruts, some so hard and deep that they were of a size that would threaten the integrity of a wagon, and made wheeling impossible.

But little of the road was good, but the boys toiled on until the goal was achieved. Not an accident of any kind marred the trip, though it was disappointing to wheelmen.

All rode pneumatic tires. They went home by the 6:40 Teas and Pacific.

-Dec 5, 1892, Dallas Times Herrald, p.5, col.2.

Bike Theft Around Town.

2011-10-07T09:13:00.000-07:00

UT Arlington using 'Bait Bikes' to Curb Bicycle Theft
http://www.the33tv.com/news/kdaf-ut-arlington-using-bait-bikes-to-curb-bicycle-theft-20110922,0,1909503.story

Riding Free!

2011-10-07T08:47:00.000-07:00

This weekend saw me nearly naked, wearing only a man-kini (see picture) in Denton, Tx. The weather was perfect for such a ride, only 85 degrees, but when only wearing your knickers even the best weather will seem like a pain.

The Underwear/Funderwear Ride was a chance for me to rid myself of those nasty tan lines but also an opportunity to check out how a well-run event goes down in the bike mad college-town of Denton. And to be completely honest it was everything I hoped for and more!

Getting there after driving in traffic for over an hour it was quite the relief to unfold my 6’5” self out of the car and strip down to my skivvies. Normally this would render me a little red in the face but not then because I was surrounded by nearly a hundred other semi-naked people.

After getting – carefully – on my bike, making sure everything was positioned just so, I rode over to the official start line. All types were represented but no one over 38, they obviously didn’t hear about it.

One thing that popped out were the vendor’s booths, located a short distance from the start they were selling hand-made jewelry, both vegan and meaty foods and event t-shirts. The shirts in particular interested me. Usually you pay for a ride and get a shirt but here it was the opposite. I like that philosophy because whil $20 dollars to participate in a ride might not sound like a bad deal I’ve known that to deter some. My goal is to get people on bikes and passionate about cycling and I want to make it as easy for people to do that as possible.

Well, in Denton there are all types on all types of bikes. I don’t know the official count but as we rode out of the parking lot and on to Hickory up a slight hill and past the University the length and breadth of the group matched that of a Tour de France peleton. And we rode everything from BMX bikes, single speed road and MTB. The Tall Bike Clan sent two representatives and there were innumerable fixies. I would guess all in all we had a nearly 100 people making up the flesh-toned biker blob pedaling through town.

After circling the Square several times and amusing all who looked at or filmed us we went down and to the north of town. Keeping toward the front I helped call out turns and point out debris. Thinking the whole time, “crashing while wearing underwear…” It sounded like some painful road rash! Well, it happened. About three times actually. People bumped in to one another and a few went down, it happens. Especialy when you’re in such a large group. But with the casual pace no one was really injured.

At the front of such a large contingent of cyclists, turning a corner, looking back and seeing the immense line of wheels, chains and flesh that’s following you; wow, it’s one of those incredible times where you realize you are a part of a community, a family. All cyclists.

The ride continued and eventually we made it back to town but people didn’t want to stop! We extended thee route, doing a few more figure Eights through town and enjoying the weather and sun on our bodies. Some bailed after the rest of us decided it was time to put it in. We headed over to the Harvest Festival where the ride would end.

All of us mingling away from our bikes in the middle of a four-lane street next to Hippy-fied school bus that was selling tie dye. We were the sight.

Now I’m back in Arlington and all we can think of is an Arlington Underwear/Funderwear Ride. Can’t wait!

Tour to the Lake!

2011-10-05T14:32:00.000-07:00

Bike tripping last summer changed my life. It altered my soul and put a filter over my eyes. I want people see this and now that I’m back in society my goal is to make this available to everyone.

A few months ago I was cruising around Dallas looking for a place to buy a Campy derailleur cable and happened upon Switching Gears Cyclery off of Exposition Ave in Fair Park. They had what I desperately needed and seeing as though I wasn’t looking too forward to digging out the half-broken cable from my shifter we sat down in front of his shop for a chat.

Colin Clarke instantly struck me as a passionate bike freak the same as myself. We talked about the store, mountain biking, the weekly crits that are only two blocks away and bike touring. “Yeah man, you tour!?” Oh boy, I had a new friend.

Now the trip is on, people are signed up and we’re about to ride – two shops, two routes, all heading to a little cove at Joe Pool Lake.

The last time I did one of these, bringing a group out to a predetermined spot where we would set up tents and cook our food, we had a hiccup or two but in the end was a truly amazing time. Like when Darrell and I rode to Hotter ‘n Hell and did 120 miles together. Trips like these seem to bring out the good times that create lasting memories.

The DFW metroplex at night, photographed from the International Space Station in early 2003. Dallas is the larger nexus of light on the right (east), Fort Worth the smaller on the left (west). Blurriness over parts of the image is caused by clouds. Courtesy NASA.

I’m excited to see what will happen when two groups come together, each located one opposite sides of what we call the Metromess (Metroplex). Something like two clans meeting each other in the Bier Hall ages ago, what would go down?

We’ll see. I’m excited. Post to come!

2011-09-30T13:29:00.000-07:00

Well, this really explains a lot! From Flann O'Brien's book about the love affair between one man and his bicycle, The Third Policeman

The gross and net result of it is that people who spend most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycles as a result of interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are nearly half people and half bicycle.

Never Stop Explorin'

2011-09-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

Today was an incredible Labor Day, with temperatures hovering right around 80 degrees it was the coolest it's been in quite some time. The past three months have seemingly been day after day of triple digit heat. It's been unbearable.

But I didn't go out and ride! I didn't enjoy the start of Fall with my favorite partner (my bike). I went for a walk, drank some amazing coffee and generally kept it pretty chill. However, when early evening came around I was forced in to action, a friend needed my help.

The drive from Arlington in to Dallas is 25 miles of eight-lane freeway that ends with you making a sweeping left curve across the Trinity River, past the new Calatrava designed suspension bridge and finally into the one way streets of downtown. I was there to pick up a friend who became stranded and wanted to return as soon as possible.

Here's a shot from the Trinity River Wind Festival at Crow Park off Sylvan. http://bit.ly/qrqHtR

Fortunately, though, we didn't go straight back.

Rather than getting back on the dreaded freeway we took the old route. US 380 was a road like Route 66, its time was before the advent of the current Autobahn style roads that take you out of small town America. Now it's perfect as a Bike Highway. It's what I take whenever I want to ride between Fort Worth and Dallas.

The pace is slower, there are stoplights and you actually get to see the topography of the city. It was here, as we descended the uber-cool hill that drops you thirteen stories in five blocks just before you get to Loop 12, that we decided to say what the heck and push further off the beaten path.

We passed a sign with an arrow pointing told us to turn to the right, down a road I've ridden by hundreds of times but have never explored. It told us there was a historical marker and all we had to do was take the time to see it.

For those of you that don't know this side of me I am very much obsessed with these signs. Whenever I see one I must check it out and learn what happened to deserve such historical importance. It's a chance to find out some funky new fact about whichever place I happen to be in.

So, with me slamming on the brakes and pitching the car to the right we went down a bumpy little two lane street past an area which was surprisingly natural. Here we were in one of the biggest cities in the world and there's acres of undeveloped land. I wondered what was going on, why it was there and why no one had built on it.

The road to the Sign.

But there wasn't time for that because we were on a mission to find The Marker. After about three miles of driving I was about to give up. The sign must have been moved or smashed by a drunk driver.

But then we caught a glimpse of something interesting. An old red bricked building with white stonework that stuck out from the landscape like all sorts of sore thumbs. There wasn’t a sign but it didn’t matter, we had to stop.

The old school building in Eagle Ford

Where were we, was it still even Dallas? I couldn't believe that after all these years of riding past this beauty of a lane I’d never taken the time to see what it held hidden from the world.

Eagle Ford, it sounds like a car dealership but in fact it was a town origionally built near an important early crossing of the Trinity River. Just imagine it! 120 years in the past coming up to a grand river valley.

You look around, searching for a place to cross when all of a sudden an eagle floats overhead and lands on the limb of a distant tree. Wait, is that a low point? Over there where the water trickles over the rocks? I'd bet a horse could cross there…

Perhaps that’s the story of Eagle Ford. I’m not sure, it does sound good, though! Seeing how the road took us this far we decided to keep going. Where would it take us? It eventually led us under that monster freeway and to the actual town of Eagle Ford. There in front of the Texas Fire Fighter’s Museum was what we had journeyed so long for. The Sign!

The Racing Post!

2011-09-01T21:14:00.000-07:00

Check out the latest copy of The Racing Post! This month covers the USCF Junior National Championships as well as my account of trail building high up in the Rockies!

The Tour Changed My Life.

2011-08-30T15:23:00.000-07:00

That 14 week bike tour changed me. I’m no longer the same cyclist I was before… It’s amazing what a bike trip does. It changed my riding style, equipment set-up preferences and habits, but it also changed me as a person — but more on that later.

Before I left I was a daily bike commuter, sure, but I loved going fast. I grew up racing track, road and in love with speed. I preferred streamlined, light equipment that was stiff, that helped you carve through a corner and wind it up for the jump before the line. After my trip, though, things changed.

However, when Don Walker and I built up the bike that would eventually be my home ‘til I reached the Great Salt Lake the factor that was at the front of my mind was comfort. First and foremost.

I switched out the 42 cm bars for ones that were 46cm wide and double-wrapped them with cork tape. That was something I had never personally tried before but Tom Boonen swears by it. I’d even seen one guy take it to the extreme and wrap sections of mouse pad under the tape before he went off and did his first RAAM. I had fat tires installed – 38cm! Those made the 700c’s look more like 29” mountain wheels. And eventually, after about three weeks on the road, I switched to a stem that was a full 1cm longer than what I was used to.

But why did I wait until now to discuss this? Well. . . It took until this week to realize how that particular trip altered my cycling self. You see, I’ve been doing this bike thing for the past 12 years now, and I’ve always been stuck in a certain groove. It was of the Boy Racer – what I once was.

This trip did something to me. My fourteen week solo bike trip taught me something that people had tried and failed to teach me over and over my whole life. It taught me patience.

When your bike weighs 130 pounds you will quickly find that you can’t just jump on the pedals expecting the bike to rocket forward. It takes time -- and sweat -- to get it going. It cruises and it'll go but it's like a locomotive loaded down with coal, it takes a while to start.

For the past seven months I’ve had two bikes to ride, my big ‘ol touring bike and my Road Racer. One is 35 pounds and the length of a Chrysler and the other is 19 and more similar to a titanium flavored Lamborghini.

However, one night – about a week ago – I ran my touring steed, Beast, in to the back of a truck decreasing the fork rake by about three inches… Damn! (I don’t want to talk about it) It was a momentary loss of concentration, whilst riding down a road I’ve been down hundreds of times, and I simply wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.

“BAM!!!” I crashed into a parked truck. Yes, a parked truck.

So, here I am, getting the ol’ fast bike up to snuff and fitting different things to it to more reflect the new habits I’ve developed.

Gone were the 42cm bars. I once thought that anything wider than 42cm was dumb because “you can’t fit through holes in a pack with wide bars.” Well, that’s stupid; I love wide bars – now – because they give you leverage and just plain feel better on a long ride.

Gone was my compatriot of 10 years, the Selle San Marco Concor Light saddle in favor of their wider and flatter Regal model. Why? I’m not sure, it just fits me better. And this is coming from the guy that stood by one particular saddle for over a decade, while all those around him laughed at its weight. Well, this one both feels better AND is heavier, go figure…

And I double wrap my bars now! Yes, I took a page out of Tom Boonen’s, and all the other hard men and randonneurs out there, and put another layer of cork tape around the bars. And you know what? I love it! It’s fat and gives me something to grab on to. After hours and hours and multiple days holding the same object, it’s nice not to have to white-knuckle that shit. It’s nice to have something that’s there, something that’s big and you can grab on to.

After the saddle, bars and tape it was the stem. I’ve always loved to be stretched out on the bike but after three weeks on the road I discovered that there was a knot in my shoulder blade that simply wouldn’t go away.

I was on a custom fitted bike but after 1,000 miles all I could think about was getting a longer stem. Waiting beside the Post Office for a week it finally came and after I sat there under a gazebo’s shade in downtown Las Vegas, New Mexico installing it I then finally jumped on and went for a ride over a mountain pass to the Carson National Forrest. I knew I was home.

But, perhaps that was all just for the tour. Perhaps when I got home and back on the fast bike I’d go back to how I was before. Perhaps that could be a metaphor for the whole experience, because when I finally got back to Texas and the road bike it – I – was exactly the same as I’d been on the road.

The road changed me. It altered my person down to the core and altered how I ride. I pedal a little slower now, but with a lot more power. Sure, I can still spin to win (the velodrome and its ways will never leave me) but now I find myself in the Big Ring a lot more. I like having that long, stretched out posture while on the bike so I can rest in the drops and just cruise on down the road. And the road has taught me both what I believe in and what I love.

Before I left, I wouldn’t call myself lost but I was searching, I was looking for a direction all the while playing the part of hard-core bike guy who wanted nothing else but to have a good time and ride. Now, well now, I’m a bit more focused. But that focus is still on bikes. Bikes are what I love. I’ve gotten so much from that all to simple machine. The bicycle saved my life and after my stint on the road it taught me how to live.

It taught me what was important, what to hold on to and what to let go. It taught me to love people, to listen to them and to be comfortable – but not too comfortable. After all that the bike is different, I’m different, but that’s okay because I’ve grown from it all and learned.

...a little R and R.

2011-08-28T13:30:00.000-07:00

Saturday ended two of the most epic days I've had on a bike. I rode 220 miles in two days which included the century at the Hotter 'n Hell, and at points it was just that-- Hell!

Good thing I had some amazing company while tripping under the intense sun and horrible heat! Post to come.

So, today I'm recovering. I'm staying inside, out of the sun and in the AC reading It's All About the Bike by Robert Penn and drinking LOTS of water.

Super Oats!

2011-08-18T08:18:00.000-07:00

After reading the latest Backpacker Magazine and seeing the Dirtbag/Gourmet's suggestion for Power Oatmeal I figured I would have to share my own.

With years of daily riding under my belt — the past 5 completely carless, commuting everywhere everyday without a bike — I found I needed something to give me lasting energy. I needed something that would sit in my stomach and give me the “UMPH.” I needed to ride: fast!

It’s been called a “CLIF Bar in a pan” and a a US Forrest Service representative recently coined it some “pretty hearty oatmeal.” What’s the secret? You throw the ‘ol Kitchen Sink into it!

First of all, I love butters, Peanut, Sunflower, Hemp, Tahini or Coconut. I love them all and they all easily pack and are highly nutritious. Last summer, while on my 14 week tour, I kept running into people who would expand my foodie mind. And they would give me treats to take with me.

One time I received half a jar of cashew butter. To this I added a good amount of coconut butter—a good source of fat, oils, fiber and protein. Giving in to this new obsession, I entered a period of near Raw breakfasts.

Let's cook some Super Oats!

To start, I bring about two cups of water to a boil and throw in any dried fruits or nuts I might have in the pannier. After this I put in the butters. The Outside article said to add these in the end, once the pot is off the stove, but I want to make sure that they’re all mixed in. After this, I’ll put in the actual oats. (If you’re using Steel Cut oats you’re going to have to start with more water and cook them for longer—one reason I use regular old oats.)

At this point it’s all going to start coming together. It’ll begin to look something like the Wob-Dob that’s used in Adobe. It’s here, too, that you put in the honey.

I love honey. I like sweet coffee and I like that when on a trip you can get different flavors of honey everywhere you stop.

Take it all off the stove and let it sit. You want to do this earlier than you think you should, because the pot and the Super Oats will continue to cook long after it’s taken off the flame.

Enjoy! Bask in a meal that will go for as long as you will, but remember one thing: be sure to have a big cup of coffee because this will take a while to eat!

2011-08-05T12:36:00.000-07:00

Night-time is the right time for some, but night-time for me can turn out to be when the demons come out and play. I was talking about this with my very significant tripping partner while in the San Isabel National Forest a couple weeks ago. We were up there volunteering for the CDTA building a trail on the side of a mountain which will someday connect with others to span the entire length of the North American Continental Divide.

When I was on the road last summer people always asked me whether or not I rode after the sun went down. Only once did I try riding at night, but I quickly stopped as soon as I thought about all the potential, unseen obstacles.

When you’re riding cross-country on the side of an Interstate, there are all sorts of dangers, blown tire tread (Gators) lying in waiting to give you a flat or knock you to the ground, trucks piloted by people operating under too few hours of sleep and wildlife! Imagine riding down the road only to smack into a wild BUFALO.

But that wasn’t really the reason. I explained to Sarah as we sat on our logs, the candle-lantern casting its hazy glow upon us, “I’m really just—just sorta!—scared of the dark!”
Suddenly she started to giggle, Damn! Now I look like a pansy… “You know I was just kidding! …but I do always love to have a head-lamp handy.”

I have no problem riding at night. I love it – really – but get me on a foreign road or in the back-country and I’d rather just wait till morning to continue on. It’s the unknown; I don’t know what’s around the next bend.

“How fast should I take this corner? Okay, let’s slow it down a bit.” This perpetuates the fear and before you know it you’re riding at a snail’s pace fearing every little bump in the road…

Though, the funny thing is I started a weekly group night ride that leaves at eight PM and routinely doesn’t return till two AM. But that’s local. I know what’s going on. I can take that.

So what is one to do? I’ve decided to buy a mountain bike, I think that’ll do the trick. I want to be the one shredding the Gnar at night on the MTB trails. I’ve had one before and I remember doing all those Urban rides in the dark, riding around the University campus—hopping up ledges and down sets of stairs.

In fact most of my favorite times on a bike have been at night! Long road rides to Venus, breaking in to Six Flags with a friend to huck our bikes off of different obstacles… Perhaps I can continue that, perhaps I can learn from that, the night isn’t something to be afraid of.

Someone should have told me that as I scrambled down from the rim of the Palo Duro Canyon. Sarah and I, after leaving Colorado and the trail we were building, decided to swing through Amarillo and spend one last night dirty and in a tent.

It was then we decided to go on this hike. We watched the sun set 400 feet up the canyon wall from our camp, and by the time we headed down it was dark.

We had headlamps, but as I led the way down a side canyon – over and under boulders that had been wedged there for who knows how long – all I could think about was that Bobcat shadowing us, waiting to leap out of a crevasse straight toward my throat.

In reality there was no Bobcat, but that’s where my mind took me, into the unknown. I need to work on this, perhaps this MTB and a couple all night trail rides will fix it. I’ll let you all know how it turns out!

Group Bike Trippin'

2011-08-02T13:21:00.000-07:00

Read all about the group overnight that was sponsored by UTA's Maverick Bike Shop in this month's Racing Post!

US-287

2011-07-20T09:33:00.000-07:00

Today, while driving up to Colorado, I realized that there is a very special place in my heart for US Highway 287. It, for me, is where it all began—twice. It’s where I rode my first overnight trip on a bike, it’s where I spent my first night on the road and where my magical mystery tour began last summer.

Looking back to that first trip and all the fear and trepidation that I had before leaving, it just seems so long ago! That ride was to Wichita Falls for my first time experiencing the Hotter ‘N Hell Hundred. That, for all of you who don’t know, is a big deal. Last year saw about sixteen-thousand people in attendance riding anywhere from ten to one-hundred miles.

It is, just like the name implies, a very hot ride—and flat, pancake flat. But it’s huge! And it,s a party, the rest stops there are something to write home about, some with DJ booths and the last—two miles before the finish—is a party with the beer freely flowing into the cups of some very thirsty cyclists.

I’d never done it, though, I always told people how dumb I thought it’d be to drive all the way out to the middle of absolute nowhere to ride a hundred miles on a course, which I thought to be boring. Well… It could be said that I was wrong, I can admit that— it happens sometimes!

287 took me to Wichita Falls for my first bike tour, one where I was overloaded to the point where I couldn’t get off the saddle to stand on the pedals for fear of my bike wobbling it’s self off the road—with me on it. That first trip was a major learning experience for me, one that taught me the importance of having smaller and lighter pieces of gear. It got me ready for the next rip, one that would start with me riding, once again, on US 287.

My Trans-Western Cycling Expedition was a trip that I’d planned for over a year and when it finally began last June with me getting on 287 and heading towards Amarillo I didn’t know what to think about me leaving for three months to live on a bike. It was a familiar route to Wichita Falls but it was an unknown road.

I made it to my friend Francis’ house on my second day of the trip and it took me another three days to leave from there after riding the 120 miles in the heat of the Texas summer, but I had to keep going. “It will be cooler once I get to Amarillo”, I kept telling myself.

But in between me and there was about 300 miles of flat, straight highway with absolutely no shade—barely a cloud to be seen, really—and a tail-wind that while providing a nice boost seems to only make you hotter.

What makes it interesting, though, are the trains; miles and miles of trains with boxcar after boxcar and tanker after tanker just chugging along beside the highway. Looking to your left while riding along you can see the graffiti—art—of the urban painter that comes from all over the world, a traveling fresco with a style all its own.

Something that’s not always understood, however, is how old the rail-road is here, this particular route—along 287—dates back from the days of steam-engines and one thing that those machines needed was water.

If you look at a map of this part of the world you will notice that there is a town—or was a town, now a Texas Ghost Town— spaced out every thirty miles along 287. These towns were used as filling stations for the locomotives and people and industry built up around that. It’s in these that you can find the remains of what could be called The Golden Age of Texas.

Ever seen the movie Giant with James Dean about the Texas cattle ranchers and later the boom of Texas’ oil industry? It’s there, that aura of Screw You I’m Texan, and it’s in these towns along the highway and beside the tracks.

You see old-time downtowns with a park in the center and businesses along a bricked square, the movie theater is there and the hotel, the café beside it and perhaps a garage for auto repair. Look at Memphis, Texas, a perfect example of this and one that is just begging for an artist getaway or—God forbid—a hipster haven.

There’s a building whose second story is a covered balcony and whose face is painted to look like a mosaic. Next to that is a shut down restaurant that has windows painted on its side that portrays people sitting, eating by candlelight. They are beautiful places that some might look at and say, “bulldoze it and build something new, PROGRESS, PROGRESS, PROGRESS!”

287 is a straight shot out of Texas but one that might make you a little crazier when you get to the other side, but, if you appreciate it and look a little closer you can find things to love and enjoy. It’s on this road that you ride in to another part of the world—the Plains—you get to feel the wind change direction as you get closer to Amarillo and feel the temperature drop. You get to go back in to time, when the grain silo and elevator were the most important facets of a town.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to get going, it’s the start of something new but it’s a road we all have to go down. Just like US 287 for me, it gets you out there, away, to the mountains.

2011-07-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

Check out The BUFALO Knights on KTCU FM 88.7, the fun starts 26:37

Shuckin' 'N Jivin'

2011-07-16T19:01:00.000-07:00

Shuckin’ and jivin’, that’s all I’ve been doing lately. So much has occurred over the past couple months—several weeks—it feels like I haven’t stopped. I’m trying to get it all out there, on this blog, but it hasn’t yet happened. And things just keep coming.

Tuesday I’m heading out to Colorado, to Leadville in particular, I’ll be in the high mountains and I’ll have swung through one of my favorite places from my trip last Summer—Durango.

Oh Durango! My week there was so amazing, a week when everything simply fell in to place. The day before I reached the original home of World Championship mountain biking I was riding out of Pagosa Springs after hooking up with a bunch of kids that, too, happened to be riding across the country on bikes. I awoke with them at 4:30 in the morning but quickly went back to sleep. Waking up at the butt-crack of dawn wasn’t how my trip was going, man! At about noon after eating pancakes with a German couple on an RV trip across the West and drinking a bit too much coffee I left the spring-resort town and headed West up a most massive climb.

It was a day of putting in the miles—fast—up and down mountains and roller, roller, roller hills. I passed Chimney rock that day and stopped at some guy’s heaven that was a few campsites and a trout-lake. Somewhere in there I crested a climb, went down the other side and found myself inside a valley that was straight out of a beautiful dream—or car commercial, which was what seemed to be going on at one point.

I ended the day in a light drizzle whose drops kept getting bigger and bigger as I went in to Bayfield looking for the Vallecito Resivior and my home for the night. I was told by a guy I met at the corner store in town that there was going to be a party at a lake-house there and that I was welcome to swing by, hang out and crash for the night. Well, that didn’t work out but the lake was amazing, this sliver of water between to knife edged mountains. I rode in to the park, across the dam through a mist so thick I cut through as I slowly rode—dead and hungry.

I got to the campsites depressed, needing a person’s company, to talk to anyone, share a fire and be amongst people. What I found was a wet ground and no energy as I set up my tent and fired up the stove. By the time the water was boiling I was nearly to tears. Then, all of a sudden, a truck parked at the camp-site next to mine and two guys got out and looked around.

Kyle and Elliot—each from Kansas—the former a home-brewer and wood-crafter, the latter a graduate student studying Physics and both on a Summer brew-pub tour. We both found ourselves out in the middle of nowhere standing in the rain me with some amazing rice with lentils and a coconut-curry sauce and they with… beer.

We all got together and traded stories then ate and drank beside a fire in the misty woods of southern Colorado. The next day I hitched a ride in to town with them and immersed myself in the Durango brew-culture. Oh man! If you like finely crafted, small batch beer then head to Durango. Wow. That night we camped out in the National forrest outside of town and ate Drunken Chicken and drank delicious beer, once again, in the rain. It was joy, guys.

After that night we said our goodbye’s and went our separate ways—mine just so happened to be down a sick dirt road down the side of a mountain on a fully-loaded touring bike, oh yeah!

I ran around town looking for a couch to crash on for a couple days—I had to get out of the tent for a bit—and eventually found one by way of Papa Wheelie’s and another guy named Zach. That brought me to the DGO FunPlex where I stayed for the next week…

This time, however, I’m headed up to Leadville as well. I signed up to do some trail maintenance on the Continental Divide Trail, at 11,000 feet! And I’ll have my Road bike! I really can’t wait.

2011-06-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

Be sure to grab the July issue of The Racing Post at your local bike shop for all that is bike racing, riding and TOURING in Texas and the South West!

2011-06-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

What is it about our sport— cycling— that elicits such a passion? I've ridden for twelve years now and over that span of time I have met a few of you out there. One thing that really gets me is how we all get hooked on bikes.

I’ve had the pleasure of helping people get on bikes and start riding and it seems that you get in to it and love it or you don’t, there’s not much of a grey area. Bicycle is passion. It’s the fluidity of legs and road and hills and trees passing you by, it’s going out hard and keeping it up till you can't stand it anymore and you limp home— it’s riding all day while just taking your time to notice the clouds and the horses along the road.

Cycling is something you feel inside you and it becomes you, to call yourself a cyclist is really something special. It means you are one of us, one of those people that get it— a part of a fellowship of the wheel and sprocket.

Bike Overnight

2011-06-04T10:28:00.001-07:00

It looks like I'll be heading out for another overnight trip Sunday afternoon to Cleburne, Texas. Going to be away for two and a half days, it should be a great opportunity to scope out the route and campsites for the group overnight which will be going out on July 1st. If any of you out there are interested in joining us for it shoot me a line on Facebook or my email-- Ford.Zac@Gmail.com.

The route is Arlington to Alvarado where we'll stop for lunch then on to the Pat Cleburne Lake. Bring your fishing tackle if you want and your swim suits!

2011-06-01T09:18:00.000-07:00

Pick up the newest Racing Post today at your local bike shop for free! Full of exciting stories from local, national and international races, local charity rides and overnight bike trips!

Water...

2011-05-28T14:33:00.000-07:00

My ride today suddenly made me think back to nearly a year ago, when I first left on my Trans-Western Cycling Expedition. I was riding in to Wichita Falls, only two days in to the trip and already I was suffering. I was completely fried, my skin and my brain, both just torched by the Texas sun.

I had gotten to the point, riding along the shoulder of 287 where all I could think about was water. Not water to drink, it was much too late for that, but water to jump in or stand under—a shower, pool, lake, and drainage ditch, whatever. Anything would have sufficed.

That’s where I am now, minus the third degree sunburn I had on my thighs, but there none-the-less. Riding here in the middle of the day during an Ozone Alert and in 100 degree heat will cook your mind down to a nice sauce that you can see coming out of your ears. Man.

So now, here I am, just like I was then, looking for a pool or a lake to swim in—if a lake then one that’s not tainted with industrial sludge or that damned Frack Water… I knew this summer would be hard for me. I left Texas last summer during the peak of the heat wave and disappeared in to the mountains. I missed all of it, the 95 degree weather at nine in the morning, the humidity… God does that humidity make me long for the high desert…

Anyway, it’s hot, yet I’m still riding— albeit my wardrobe consists of straw hats, linen button-up shirts and board shorts. I still ride, everyday, though now my routes are going to take me ever more frequently by apartment and housing community pools. I still ride. And I like it, you should see my tan!

2011-05-20T13:51:00.001-07:00

Let them have racks!!!

I am a cyclist.

2011-05-16T22:33:00.000-07:00

I am a cyclist. I am not a farmer, though I love gardens, im not an artist, though I love art. I am a cyclist. That is my passion. I love riding, fixing, writing about and doing all that is bicycle. This is who I am. I will do anything I can to make someone love bikes as much as I do and see cycling as an excelent way to get around, work out or play on a bike!

Ride for Reading

2011-05-15T11:11:00.000-07:00

May is Bike Month and May 22-28 is Ride for Reading week!

Matthew Portel started Ride for Reading after teaching at a low-income Elementary School in Nashville, Tn. One day he asked his students to read for fifteen minutes at home, every night. Their response? "We don't have any books!"

Sure, kids have access to pretty much everything they need while at school, however, once home they don't always have what they need-- age appropriate reading material.

Ride For Reading's mission is to promote literacy and healthy living through the distribution of books via bicycle to children from low-income neighborhoods. In low-income neighborhoods, the ratio of books per child is 1 age-appropriate book for every 300 children. *Reading is an integral part of education, and without books it is hard to build a strong academic base. Our children need materials to read at home and it is our goal to provide the means.
* Neuman, Susan B. and David K. Dickinson, ed. Handbook of Early Literacy Research, Volume 2. New York, NY: 2006, p. 31

What can you do? Contact Matthew and the rest of the Ride for Reading group to be set up for a book delivery. Because every child deserves the chance to lose themselves in the pages of a good story!

One of my favorites.

2011-05-15T10:02:00.000-07:00

2011-05-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

“What if all these decisions you made, how you thought about the consequences of each action or even of not taking an action, what if that was what you were already going to do?”

"On your left!"

2011-05-13T15:53:00.000-07:00

There we were, a day and a half— something like 70 miles of our 75 mile trip done— we’d been on this crushed-stone bike path for the past 12, had just entered the State Park and were climbing this bastard of a climb to the lake. 6 switchbacks, on dirt, with sweeping curves that begged you to push it up and asking you, “Can you make it?” Yes we can!

This was the end of our— Sarah, my beautiful touring partner and I— trip to Mineral Wells State Park. By this point we were both sun-burnt, tired and all we could think about was the lure of the lake ONLY TWO MILES AWAY! Got to keep moving…

I had my trailer, she my panniers, this being her first ever Tripping experience via bike I took the liberty of lightening her load the second day, putting about 10 extra pounds on my already nearly overloaded trailer. Oh well, she was totally enjoying herself and I, well, I’m always looking for ways to make a situation harder.

We went around the last switchback, crested the climb and were enjoying our fast pace over the gravel, when all of a sudden two game changing things happened. 1) the gravel gave way to asphalt and 2) a family from who-knows-where comes tearing—screaming—down the embankment, around the blind turn to where the gravel starts, the father and mother leading this speed-crazed procession, and directly into my, and to a lesser extent sarah’s path.

“Oh shit!” There was a slight squeal of rubber against metal, the patriarch of the group forgetting that it’s a bad idea to grab a handful of front brake while going downhill, the mother tursn, gets her bike sideways, the father flying off his bike barely missing the woman in midair and lands with a THUMP a groan and that nearly inaudible scraping sound of flesh against earth…

BAM!

We saw this whole train of events unfold before us. We couldn’t do anything BUT watch it, I saw what I was sure to be a broken collar bone happen right before my eyes. We stopped, the man’s body some ten feet beyond his bike, the woman’s four feet before that. She got up to look at her husband, me, not knowing what to do saw his two little boys and as a way to busy myself picked up his bike to make sure that at least IT was okay.

We stood there as Man gets up and hobbles off, cursing and moaning as he goes. What should we do? Sarah asks, “Do we need to trade insurance info?” I look at her and she starts laughing, a nervous laughter but still, one that we didn’t need at the moment.

Walking over to the man and woman huddled together I said the only thing I can think of, “Man it looked like you landed on your shoulder, there!”

“No shit,” was all I got in reply, besides the look that his wife gave me, something along the lines of, “maybe you should just ride off…”

Perhaps. Feeling bad, but really with nothing that I could have done to prevent this misfortune—they, he, was totally in the wrong. We left, somewhat quickly, and I had to quell the desire to tell the boys, “this is why we stay to the right side of the path…” I didn’t, thank God, for who knows what untold anger tthat would have brought upon me—us.

We left, made our way to the lake, jumped into the beautifully cold water and forgot all about the family till we see them getting out of the truck by the trading post. Man did he look bad, I still think he broke his collar bone.

This is why we stay to the right of the path, guys; you never know who’s coming around the next bend. Be careful out there and, yes, it is a good idea to wear a helmet, too.

Face-bookin' it

2011-05-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

Want more? Check out all that is PC on Facebook-- fun times with "like" buttons.

2011-05-08T10:23:00.000-07:00

I woke up today, just like every other day and made my pot of coffee, this morning perhaps a bit more relaxed due to last night's hot-tub adventure. Looking at my phone I saw that I had a missed call from my buddy in Seattle, the equally crazy Nicholas "Nickiepoo" Weighall.

Nick and i go way back, we hooked up when I was 16 and were somewhat inseparable for about five years before he left Texas for the Northwest. We rode thousands of miles together and had numerous close calls with the UT-A and Six Flags security gaurds while doing our night-time Urban Assault adventures.

He's now living the life of the traveling pro bike racer, lining up with the Big Boys in mountain bike and 'cross races in the US, Canada and Europe. But he still has a job. He works-- very occasionally-- at REI in Seattle as a bike mechanic. This morning upon checking my voice-mails I listened to what he had to say about his commute home last night.

Theres something about commuting on your bike, man, it's just so satisfying-- riding home after work. No matter how much I ride, dude, everytime I commute it makes me so happy. I drive for free using Vegie Oil that came from North America which makes me feel way less guilty about driving but bike commuting? It's the best!

Watch more video of Cody Kaiser on cyclingdirt.org

Check out Nick and the rest of the Cal Giant Cycling Team at a Cross, MTB or Road Race near you!

Photo courtesy Lynn Lamoureux

Just go out for a ride!

2011-05-07T17:04:00.000-07:00

Perhaps 2011 IS the year for bikes! Head over to Grist and check out Elly Blue's post about all things cycling.

I remember when I was younger, bikes weren't cool and I was laughed at for riding around in "all that spandex." Well, the tides have turned and bikes are hot, not only for recreation but for transportation as well. People the world over are coming to realize what a few of us have gotten all along, that cycling rocks.

And now we have cities across the US painting stripes on the roads for bike lanes, even Arlington, Tx, the largest city in America without a public transit system and barely a sidewalk as well. People are thinking differently and looking to other ways of living-- or at the very least entertaining the thought of having OPTIONS!

Alaska!

2011-05-07T13:03:00.000-07:00

Yes! Alaska! I've decided that I want to spend the Summer Solstice in Alaska this year-- I mean, really, why not Alaska, right?

I know there are some out there saying, "oh , Zac, you're just one step closer to completing your Christopher McCandless transformation and dying out in the wilds..." But no! I'm really not thinking like that-- yet-- however, what I am thinking about is the 48 hour sunshine that I'll get to see. And really, why not Alaska?

Photo courtesy John Bailey

But why Alaska? This year marks the end of my privilege of flying for free. "What?! You fly for FREE?" Yes, it's true, I get to fly for free. You see my mom is a flight attendant for United and I've finally hit the age where all that ends. Damn! Oh well, so I figure one of the best places for me to go is to Alaska! Sure, it's not Europe-- haven't been there yet-- but it's freakin' Alaska, man!

It blows me away that I haven't thought of this sooner, me, the guy that grew up reading The Call of the Wild so much that I wore-out several copies. (I bought one a couple years ago that's nearly 100 years old) But now that it's in my head I can't shake it.

Last year when I went up to Indy to pick up my touring bike from Don Walker I learned from his fiancee, leslie, that she had, for a time, lived in Alaska. That stunned me, really because how often does one think of that state. I don't, of course I'm not in the oil industry...

Perhaps it's just me, but the idea of going up there to a place that is easily considered one of the last frontiers on US soil makes me giddy, to me it's as alien a place as Antarctica. That's where I am, I haven't planned anything except for when I'm going and how long I'll be there. And that I'll be flying in to Anchorage. That's all I know.

Theres no plan like no plan, though, and I figure I'll do the same thing I always do which is simply walking out of the airport and figuring it out as I go. The one preparation I'll have taken is making sure I have my pack with the right gear, stuff that's light and well chosen and WARM. It might be the height of summer there but seeing as though I'll be coming from Texas and its 100 degree weather anything below 60 will make me shiver. But that's cool, too, gotta get out of that comfort zone a little, right?

So, if there's anyone out there that might have some suggestions as to where I should go, stay, see or taste shoot me a line, I'd appreciate it!

Far out, close to home.

2011-05-03T06:25:00.000-07:00

I look back through all the hundreds of pictures I took last summer, I read the posts and articles I wrote and I get the feeling deep in the pit of my heart where all I want to do is cry I miss it so much. The road, the experience of it all, all the people that I met along the way, everyday someone new and maybe I’d meet someone cool who’d let me crash for a while, get to know them—what they do, who they are. It hurts so much when this happens that really, I don’t want to even think about it and I know, I know that one day again—someday—I’ll be back out there in the mountains and on the road for a long while.

But that day isn’t now; I’m here in Texas doing whatever it is that I’m doing here. Working, pushing the eternal cause of cyclists being viewed as equal road users in a city that was built around the automobile with a culture that at times makes you feel like you’re surrounded by ostriches—all with their heads in the ground, waiting out all the hullabaloo surrounding these things, these Bike Lanes…

Whatever, so what exactly am I to do? What is any person that returned from such a life-changing trip to do? I (and I realize that I wasn’t the first to come up with this conclusion) decided that the only thing I could do was to keep getting Out. Far out, close to home. Out on the road but only for a couple days at a time.

So I’ve been going out on weekend trips, and so far they’ve worked out pretty damn well! So well in fact that I get to keep riding and not worry about the return trip because I’ve worked them out so that the places I ride to appeal to non-cycling friends—lakes, renaissance festivals, jazz fests and the sort. They’re all places that are far enough away to get me out of the city—and the ever-present suburbs—and Out There, on the road again. If only for a short time.

And that’s what I’ll continue to do until the day that I can once again break free and go. That day will come, I’ve got to be ready for it but until then I’m having fun, enjoying myself and the ride that is life. I hope you’re all doing the same.

Rainy day commutes.

2011-05-02T15:20:00.000-07:00

Theres something about riding in the rain and I know that, probably, the majority of you disagree with me on this, but riding in the rain is a beautiful thing! It might be because I'm in Texas, the land of the Eternal Furnace, we here have to take every little bit of weather change for granted because once it's hot that's the way it is going to be for a while...

But on days like today, when you leave the house early and there's a mist in the air and suddenly you're out on the road-- pushing hard or just spinning-- and the heavens open up and start to dump on you. It's magic, it reminds me of when I was a kid on the swim team. you're there in the chilly water working up a sweat, it's a conundrum of sorts. The cold water mixing with the warm sweat and you're just going, going, going, going till you can't go anymore.

Upon stopping you realize just how hard you've been riding. Your glasses fog up and the steam starts to come out from under the layers you have on your body. "Need to get going!" Ahh, that's it, there's the rain, the chill that you love so much.

So many people don't like to ride when the weather goes sour, they say it's too dangerous, you can't see, "I don't want to get wet", or they don't want to clean up their rigs afterwards. Well, I say you should just go for it, get out of your comfort zone just a little bit and see how it feels, you might just get hooked. As for mer I'm going to enjoy this weather for as long as we've got it because once it's gone it won't be returning for quite some time.

Enjoy yourselves out there, guys!

I'm Back!

2011-05-02T08:26:00.000-07:00

I'm back in print, click over to The Racing Post to read my article on weekend bike touring-- Far out, close to home.

Swingin' in the breeze

2011-04-25T08:36:00.000-07:00

Maybe it was the fact that I had put in a solid ten hour shift at work, but I believe it was because I had been reunited with my faithful steed, Beast—my favorite tripping partner by far, one who always keeps up—I was in a glorious mood riding out of Arlington last Friday.

Right about the time that beautiful golden glow starts to appear in the sky, just before sunset, I left and hit the road. Being so behind schedule and all by myself I decided to take a more direct route than originally planned. Arlington to Grapevine, Tx is about twenty miles but with the sultry tailwind I had blowing me down the road, which was as straight a route as I’ve ever seen I got there in just barely over an hour. I was screaming down the access road, whistling and singing at the top of my lungs.

Such an amazing feeling, me back on the very same bike that transported me off to that other state in my mind where I was On The Road and thinking of never really ever returning, the end wouldn’t come, right? It was me and Beast, together. But, and as we all know, things change and visions get altered when put in front of reality’s glare.

But here we were again, back on the road and loving it, if only for a weekend. I was hell bent on getting out of Arlington, my Zip Code and the County as fast as possible so I was bookin’ it. Head down— mash, mash, mash!—all the way to historic downtown Grapevine.

I don’t know exactly how historic the place truly is but what I do know is that it’s a beautiful area with a Main Street that’s bustling with the energy flowing out of its little wine bars and corner cafes—quite the place to spend a day enjoying yourself. Wine, as the name implies is what’s hot in this little Borough of the Metroplex, well, that and the lake!

Lake Grapevine has some of the sweetest single-track in the area, technical ups and downs and a trail that has grown to be nine miles out and nine back. Pretty nice! But that night, after stopping at the 7-11 only to discover that they sold delicious and inexpensive vino I rode down to the shore, jersey pockets full with two bottles poking out. I got there just in time to see the sun set behind the hills and dip in to the lake.

My spot for the night was the Southern shore of Grapevine Lake, next to the soccer and base ball fields and beside the picnic area. However, it was a bend in the coast and I noticed, after cruising around the shore and scoping out the locals, that if I stayed closest to the apex of the bend you could tuck in to the shelf of the beach and seemingly disappear from prying eyes. I liked the feel of it so right then and there got the trusty bottle opener out and popped open the wine.

Fast forward one bottle and one conversation with the local trail riders my mood was back to being off the chart but, and by this point it was pretty dark and desolate, I remembered that while this—being out by myself, alone and doing exactly what I want at that particular moment, free—is all good it sure is nice to have someone around to talk to. All of a sudden I was transported back to my trip last summer where I talked on the phone every night I was on the road to anyone who would answer. And here I was 20 miles from my house and wanting to call people and get someone to join me for the evening.

However, that didn’t last long, my phone quickly died and all I was left with were my thoughts, the lake and that wind! It had been blowing hard all day, gusts at 40 miles an hour, being down by the lake was interesting under these conditions. I walked around, singing a tune that I can no longer remember while dancing under the lights of the parking lot, all alone and suddenly loving it!
What I kept whistling and singing the chorus to, over, and over, and over...

After a while I found myself lying on the dock of the bay just thinking of the time rolling away, looking up at the clouds moving so fast you couldn’t see the moon, having the waves splashing against the side, the movement almost too much but just right to woo me away to another place. Then all of a sudden I was no longer alone.

I watched a car pull up to the dock, park and expel its passengers. Two men walked out, one much larger than the other. Eventually they both came over, one carrying a net, we said our hellos and I got down to the business of finishing my second bottle all while watching these two try to catch bait fish.

Getting up I made some easy conversation and learned that that Ron, the larger of the two and Country, the smaller, were a couple of big game hunters. Together they were armed with something like six, ten foot surf-casting fishing poles which had 70lb line coiled around the reels!

“What are you guys fishing for, “I asked, “river monsters?!”
“Ha HA!!” Wow this guy had a large laugh once you got it out of him… “No, sir, we’re catching Buffaloes!”

I really had no idea what the hell he was talking about but I assumed that Buffalo was a colloquialism for a large fish.

“Yeah we come out at night and fish for the big’uns, just look at these hooks, that in and of itself cuts the little guys out of the picture, they can’t get their mouths around THAT!”

I was impressed with Ron, not only was he an incredibly nice man but he knew what he was talking about. He came out with his own home-made bait, chummed the water and as I listened to him he flung his line out so far I thought it would get caught on the far side of the lake.

I watched these guys, listening to their stories then telling them about myself and what I was doing out there at that time of night, “no! I’m not a bum, I’m doing a weekend bike trip and I prefer Guerilla Camping.” Of course I had to explain what that was and after a while they warmed to my ways and we started sharing our supplies with each other—beer, wine… Oh, the life of a tramp!

About an hour later there was a sudden flurry of bell-ringing and action followed by Country reeling in the evening’s first catch. It was 1:30 and he caught a 14 inch Cat, “Oh man, that’s a good first catch but we need to put ‘er back in, letter grow up some more she’s still a baby!”

That freaked me out a bit, if I happened to catch a fish that size it’d be no time till the fire was going and the fillet knife slicing through like butter. But then again I’m not going for the Buffalo; I don’t go for the real big fish—unless we’re speaking as a metaphor for a bike ride!

Thirty minutes after Country put the Cat back in the water I went out to my bend in the beach, got the sleeping pad out and with a ceiling of wispy clouds floating high above my head and the waves lapping against the shore I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up with a start, “where am I? …oh yeah, bike trip, Zac! The sun was rising over the lake from the east and it was going to be another amazing day.

There’s a lot more to tell but I’m going to have to get to all that a little later. Have fun out there, guys!

2011-04-24T21:35:00.001-07:00

Tripping in Denton Part 1 is done! Just need to edit the pictures and it'll be up. Have a good week, everyone!

Bust?

2011-04-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

Well, I rode out to Denton for the Jazz Fest and what did I find when I arrived? I was a week early! Oh well, make the best out of every situation that's what I always say.

This weekend I rode out to Lake Grapevine, did some not quite Stealth Camping and met a guy who fishes for 50lb Carp using a ten foot surf-casting rod, fell asleep right there on the beach awoke to a beautiful sunrise coming up over the water and hopped in to a group ride that took me all the way in to Denton County-- it was fast, I had my bags on and I hurt myself a bit trying to stay with 'em.

What a perfect weekend, what an amazing way to spend a couple days. Riding my bike, camping, meeting new people and seeing new places-- you really can't ask for anything else, maybe a shower...

More to come very soon so check back!

Jazz Fest or Bust!

2011-04-21T17:04:00.000-07:00

This weekend finds me once again hitting the road for a weekend tour! Yes, it seems that I'm really getting in to these little 72 hour trips, perfect for keeping your head on straight while living in the craziness that is the city-- or suburbs.

Where am I headed to? To Denton, Texas! They're having their Arts and Jazz Fest this weekend so I'll ride the fifty miles-- hopefully more if I figure out how to connect all these dirt roads-- and upon getting there find some place to pitch my tent. I'm not entirely sure where that'll be, a couch? Perhaps the town park? Not so sure about that, I've heard Denton is a cool town but, we are still in Texas!

We'll see what happens.

There's just something about pizza and bicycles...

2011-04-18T06:33:00.000-07:00

Getting in to Weatherford last weekend, after a full day’s ride was something close to an animalistic goal, all I had in mind was my friend’s pizzeria just south of the town square. I had grown up working there, it was my first job—14 years old, answering the phones Friday and Saturday nights and for that I’d get free food all week—I had quite a few memories associated with this particular Albanian family’s slice of pie.

After three counties and fifty miles of pedaling into a wind that seemed to always point directly toward you my co-bike tripper—the amazing Miss Sarah Lutz—and I made it in to Aledo. It was here that I started thinking that we might have to spend the night elsewhere besides our goal of Mineral Wells…

“You know, a friend of mine owns a pizzeria in Weatherford, I should give him a call and see if he’s there!” He was and after a quick burst of shit-getting, for this guys something like a big brother to me, I decided that yes, we should aim for that glorious slice of pie, perhaps covered in penne and sauce, that was up ahead of us—just waiting.

Unfortunately for us we had a good 17 miles before we reached our delicious goal, salvation, we had to get through the boonies of Aledo which, unfortunately for us had a swarm of jack-ass rednecks in our path. It wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t something that I’d have wished for our first time cyclo-tourist Sarah. We had the usual jerk behind us laying on the horn, yelling obscenities and finally passing in a storm cloud of diesel exhaust.

Once I had a friend, someone who I would chat with online last summer while on my grand tour of the West, he said, “you ride and ride and ride, all day, every day and you have hundreds sometimes thousands of cars pass you without incident and all you ever remember are the ones who are an ass. And there aren’t many of those.” To that I responded, “and those are usually toting Arizona license plates.” All kidding aside (I love you Arizona!) it really is true, I got all worked up over three douche-bag drivers and we had been riding for seven hours, quite stupid.

The one thing I loved about getting in to Weatherford that night was me constantly repeating, “oh! Come on! I think THIS hill is the last hill!” Well, I had forgotten the succession of roliing hills that brought you in to the Peach capitol of Texas. That Last Hill came over and over again for about forty-five minutes and just before we had finally gotten to the REAL last hill I was about to be a statistic on the side of the highway, killed by my touring partner and left for the vultures which would soon be circling above.

But that didn’t happen! We made it in to the square, went around the courthouse round-a-bout and hooked over to the south, went a couple blocks down the strip and were greeted by the most beautiful florescent Italian flag I’ve ever seen in my life.

Had I known that this dinner would have ended in ridicule, of stories being shared from the days when “Zac was fat and looked like Harry Potter” I might not have suggested it. But oh well, I love my friends and it was nice to see faces I hadn’t seen in over half a decade.

Later we rode out to the Interstate, found a nice patch of—private—land, set up the tent and drifted off to sleep. Guerilla camping at its finest, but that’s another post!

2011-04-04T11:35:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a few months since my last post and it's been something of a tumultuous, soul-searching time. What does one do when they end a bike tour which was never supposed to end? How does one get back in to society? For me it took a little while to figure it all out.

But, now I'm really back, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, at least in the sense of leaving everything behind to embrace that which is the road. Through all this, though, I learned about the beauty of the four-corners area of the US and about myself. It taught me that, yes, I really am a little crazy but also that I'm really crazy about bicycles and my love for them, it made me realize that bikes are what I want to do, and that's what I've been doing.

Being the project-orriented person that I am I've been keeping busy with this and that: Bike Lanes in Arlington, building a bike program and shop for the University of Texas at Arlington and getting people who never thought they could ride a bike further than five miles to complete a thirty-two mile ride. Yes! Everything is happening!

But here I am, I grabbed a copy of Desert Solitaire from a friend before I left the Mystic Hot Springs in Utah and finally got down to reading it about a month ago. Simply amazing is really all I can say about that. It was if every page I read brought back some memory-- a smell, a sight, the feeling of the dry Utah heat with the wind blowing across my face, drying my lips and eyes out completely. The natural and alien beauty that is the Four-Corners, and I can honestly say that it was one of the hardest books for me to finish because all I kept thinking of was how much I want to return.

And now I'm reading Monkey Wrench Gang and it's talking about New Mexico. ...damn!

But, here I am in Texas where I just signed a lease on a house-- my roots growing stronger as the days go on. It's great, though! This weekend I will be experiencing something completely new for me and I can hardly contain myself. I'll be going out on my first bike trip since the "end" of last summer's, however, I won't be out there alone! I'll be accompanied by someone who is turning out to be an amazing friend and TOGETHER we'll ride out 75 miles to a State Park to camp for two nights before riding back. Oh, man, you really have no idea how many nights I stayed up dreaming of this very thing-- a companion-- someone to share the trip with, to talk to at night about all that happened, "did you see that Bobcat chase me?!"

My nose is firmly pressed against the spinning stone so check back next week for a couple stories and some thoughts from The Pondering Cyclist. It's nice to be back :)

2011-01-09T08:19:00.000-08:00

Here in Arlington, Texas, it seems that for the past four months everything-- at least for me-- has revolved around the bicycle. And this was after an 18 week bike tour where my life was very much connected to the bike, I think it's pretty neat how it keeps going.

Anyway, Arlington has been working on a Hike and Bike plan for the city for the past year, they're trying to incorporate other transportation options into the city-- trying to turn a town that was built around the automobile into a city where you can walk and bike to work or an event.

However, a lot of people don't really know what is being proposed so when a friend of mine sent me a link to a brochure that was put out by the city I felt the need to pass it along. Click here to look at the pdf version and thank you to Chris Powell for the help!

The Racing Post

2011-01-03T06:00:00.001-08:00

The New Years edition of The Racing Post is on stands now! If you're in the SW US and want to get a print copy swing by your local bike shop, they're free!

Happy New Year!

2011-01-03T05:54:00.000-08:00

I'd like to say a quick Happy New Year to all of you that are out there reading my blog and I want to thank each and every one of you for constantly coming back for more. 2011 looks to be the best year yet, I'll be back on the road by April and the general consensus in America is that bikes are great for everyone, can't ask for anything else. It's been a long road to get here and if the future is anything like the past it will be a good run-- ride-- down the road that is life.

Stick around for more posts, rants, stories and pictures and once again, thank you all for coming back for more!

Zachary Ford: Bicycle Commuter

2010-12-30T12:39:00.000-08:00

I've been back, living in civilization again for nearly four months now, I think that's right. Man, back to the world that doesn't revolve around a bicycle-- which some might say that my life most certainly STILL revolves around those two wheels-- it's different. It's different being in one place for so long but it's weird that I'm not guaranteed to have to ride my bike at least once every day. It certainly is a change.

However, I'm back but I'm still not entirely 100 percent like most of you out there. I still don't have a car, in fact I haven't owned one in five years. I still ride my bike almost everyday and usually I'm on it for different errands about my town-- Dallas-Fort Worth.

Relying solely-- without mentioning the occasional ride from friends and other people, of course-- on my bicycle I found that I really do prefer it to driving in a car for the most part. Cars make me mad, I hate waiting, and I have a tendency to become both frustrated and agitated while stuck in the climate controlled bubble that is a car.

I've ridden in both door and topless jeeps, convertibles and scooters and they're all good but there's something about the bi8cycle. It's so light and quick, you get a workout and then there's the wind-in-your-hair feeling that you get as you're cruising down the street. Yes.

I've preached bike commuting before on my blog, before I left for my trip. I was the hard-core bike commuter-guy that you'd hear about. I would ride 18 miles each way to school, ten here, five there, eight to the train and another four after that. I got to be pretty strong, of course, I adapted to the life-style choice that I had made and bought a trailer. And that's where things got really interesting.

After years of carrying things on my back while riding to and fro all day I finally became friends with BOB and he changed my life. It was amazing, I could ride places and bring things-- big things-- with me! My bike now had a trunk attached to it. Wow. BOB made it possible for me to leave my house in the morning with my school bag, c0omputer, lunch, snacks, street clothes AND my work clothes! I no-longer had to worry about carrying too much weight. Amazing!

But still, to those that haven't been bitten by the cycling bug or aren't worried about whether they produce more or less green-house gasses, you might wonder "why". Why ride a bike ten miles when you could drive and be there quicker AND not have to worry about how you look when you get there?

Well, to start off, just because you drive a car doesn't mean you're going to get somewhere quicker than the other guy on the bike. In an urban environment, even in a SUB-urban environment, a bike is either just as fast or QUICKER than a car. Under five miles trip distance it's neck and neck, depending on who's on the bike, but under two miles it easily goes to the bicycle.

Then there's the less tangible fact that riding a bike makes you smile. I can't even begin to tell you how many days I have woken up feeling like crap, too tired even to think about making coffee, yet I get up and get going and instead of driving I ride. I ride to work and ever so slowly my body begins to loosen, I warm up, I look around with new eyes and see what's about.

Riding in the morning, taking the side-roads and residential streets to where I need to go I rarely ever see another car. One here and there but very few. I see the sun stretching upward or the dew on the grass, you smell the air and get a whiff of fresh cut grass. People wave as you ride by, them getting in there cars or picking up the paper, you riding up a hill or watching the line through a corner. It's great.

I'm really not trying to convince anyone to sell their cars and buy a bike, I just know that this is good for me right now. I've been talking about bikes to so many people lately and this has come up time and again that it made me want to write a bit on the subject. I like riding my bike, I try to make sure that I get to ride my bike and sometimes it seems that if I were to drive everywhere I wouldn't get the opportunity so for me it's an easy decision.

If you're interested in trying it out it might be a good time to start. I'm down in Texas for the winter and even though New Year's Eve is just around the corner it's still a perfect 75 degrees! Get a bag, put whatever you need in it and go ride! It doesn't take a huge commitment of riding the 25 miles to work everyday, just ride to the Starbucks on the corner. If you're anything like me you'll get hooked.

And another thing, you don't necessarily have to ride your bike on the same roads you'd drive on. Seek out the residential streets and take the sometimes less than direct route. Ride up a hill, or not! Just go out and have fun.

Bicycles in Arlington: Yes!

2010-12-10T12:29:00.000-08:00

Please click HERE to sign our petition; it's not just about the bike, it's about giving people the option to exist outside of a car!

Let them have racks!

2010-12-08T14:36:00.001-08:00

I want to see more bike racks— everywhere. I want to see them spread out across communities as if they were car’s parking spaces. Why? Because I want to see more bicycles in our communities, I want to see people riding instead of driving; I want to see people choosing bicycles to ride to the corner café, the grocery and for short errands; or simply for an afternoon roll around the block.

I love riding my bike—obviously—and I think others would too. However most people don’t like to go out for rides where they just go the entire time. Most, it seems, tend to enjoy a good spin around (Not necessarily in a park, though!) then stop for a drink, have some time to chat with people then continue the ride for a bit. Well, this means getting off the bike.

I grew up riding fast, wearing Lycra and doing a bit of racing. I love going out to the local group road rides, hitting the trails or riding the occasional Century yet I also realize that most don’t yet enjoy this type of thing. Most people, like I said, just want to ride their bike.

One of the guys at The Racing Post often writes about Growing the Sport, well that’s great, I’m all about that. I feel that the more people on bikes the better. Whether that be by putting on a jersey, pinning a number on or riding to class. I think that to do this, though, we not only have to worry about getting kids on racing bikes and giving them cycling shoes, we have to worry about simply getting people on ANY bike. And then we have to educate and provide services to them so they keep doing it. This is where I start seeing the racks.

I would like to see communities brought closer together not only in distance but as people with the help of bike lanes and paths. I know, this is crazy, it sounds too European, it sounds like Ive spent a bit too much time by myself on a bike. True, this seems completely strange to some but if you’ve ever ridden a bike around and seen others doing the same you might understand.

One thing that I love about this community that embraces the bicycle is how close it is. It’s a pretty tightly-knit group of people especially when you come to see how diverse it is. You’ve got your roadies, the mountain bikers, racers, fixie kids, commuters, and tourists. They’re all different and usually don’t intermingle but they’re all riding and when they pass each other there is that nod or finger waggle off recognition. I love that and it’s something you don’t get in an automobile.

I’d like to see bike paths and lanes as a place where cyclists can come together, to give us a place that is protected and that gives us a bit more rights. It would also bring people on bikes together. Immagine where there are cities and communities connected for cyclists with paths ust as they are connected for automobiles with freeways. You can ride between each city then when you get to where you want to go you lock your bike to a rack.

I see a bike lane come up to a major intersection; somewhere with retail, restaurants—the whole shebang—places where people want to be. There’s a giant, expansive concrete parking lot on one corner, so big that the heat radiates upward off it and displaces any weather pattern that dare cross it. Then, on the other side of the street is our Bicycle Parking Area, complete with water fountains, benches and racks galore. You might ride up, find a spot to lock your bicycle then wait for your friends to show up. This gives you time to un-roll your pants leg, wipe off your face and have a drink. There are other people there, too. All cyclists, and they all know what you’re doing—no-one stares at you as if you’re and alien just landing. It’s all a part of riding your bike!

This might just be a scene out of my own utopia, it might sound a bit odd to some but if trends keep going as they are, with bike advocacy, it might prove to become a reality. Who knows, I said it and it’s recorded for prosperity. I’ll keep riding my bike and trying to show others how neat they are. We’ll see what happens.

2010-12-08T14:02:00.000-08:00

Head on over to The Racing Post to see all that is awesome in the world of bicycles! Get a FREE copy at your Local Bike Shop in the south-central US or request a copy from the website.

2010-12-03T16:41:00.000-08:00

Today I was told by a very good friend of mine that I needed to stop messing around and write more. Every day. Yes, I do, I do need to geet this down to where I budget time every day to write-- something, anything. As long as I get It out and down, through these keys onto the electronic papyrus that is my little net-book. He also told me that I need to start on my book.

That is an awesome thought that I have been kicking around in my head, and telling people that will come from this journey that I've been on. It seems a logical step. But man, that's a big deal. I've never written a book before! What do I do; how, exactly, does one write a book?

"Andy, how do you write a book?"

"You just start writing-- telling your story, " he replied, "just write about what happened, tell us what you did, hell, you can exaggerate it."

"It is YOUR story, " he said. "YOU get to decide what you want to happen and what you want to focus on but all you need to worry about, Zac, is writing."

Hmm, well there you go. Today I was talking about how I wanted to write a new list of goals and this should probably be at or very near the top of it.

2010-12-03T16:37:00.001-08:00

There is absolutely no other feeling like the one you get when you draft a large vehicle at 45+ mph. None.

As is shown in the 1979 movie Breaking Away.

Movie Videos & Movie Scenes at MOVIECLIPS.com

Hit and Run

2010-11-27T08:33:00.000-08:00

I’ve been in Texas for two months now, it’s pretty neat being back and, hell, it’s the end of November and I’m still walking around outside in shorts and a T-shirt. Can’t beat that with a stick!

However, I’ve kept myself pretty busy, throwing myself into the idea of having a community bike shop that rents out bicycles to people—all for free. It’s come a-long and it’s been a very rewarding few weeks, and I’ve met some really great people in the process.

That’s one thing that I have always enjoyed and, in a way, felt duty bound to do; that being helping people with their bicycle ailments. Working on a bicycle isn’t hard but it’s something that you have to learn and quite a few people don’t have the resources—or specialized tools--- to do so. Everything on a bike takes a special tool, like foreign cars, and most people simply don’t have them.

For example, the other day a guy came by to have his girlfriend’s bike looked at. He told me that she had it locked up while at work and it was hit as someone was pulling out of the parking lot. Of course they didn’t stop, though.

We had her bike up in the stand and I was showing him what it was I was doing, adjusting the derailleurs and brakes, readjusting the stem and what-not. “Hey this isn’t too hard,” he said.

“No it really isn’t, basically all you have to worry about is cable tension and a couple other things stop by some Saturday and you can join us for a Shop Day.”
“Well, I live in West Virginia and am only here for a couple days but I have something for you guys.”

He went to his car and came back with a fresh, whole chicken. “Oh MAN! This is awesome, thank you!”
“Yeah I raise chickens; they’re all grass fed and free-range.”
“Delicious!” My mind was already thinking of what I would do with it.

A couple nights later everything was ready; I called some friends and told them that I was going to make Beer Can Chicken with mashed potatoes and asparagus. All I had to do was getting the coals ready and drink half a beer— to put inside the chicken.

Everyone was happy, the grill had that beautiful glow to it that only happens when you’re about to cook over an open fire. There was peace in our little world. However it soon came crashing down.

All of a sudden I see a friend come walking up the drive carrying his bike, “uh oh, this doesn’t look good.” As he got closer I saw that he had a bit of a limp as he walked. I went over and took the bike and asked him what happened.

“I got hit by a car, “he said, “and they didn’t even stop.” Now, I don’t want to scare anyone away from riding a bike but this is something of a rite of passage for a cyclist, kind of like riding a hundred miles but more painful—maybe.

We sat down and told us some more of what happened. “I was riding down the road and saw a car come out of a side street, my lights were on so I kept going but then the car turned left and hit me from the side.” “It knocked me off my bike and I flew into the curb but the car just kept on driving!”

“What was worse was that I went over to a cop (this happened in front of a police station) and he told me that I needed to be more careful and stop messing around”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t ride in the street,” replies the officer.

I hear this all the time, people riding their bikes, getting hit by cars and the drivers just keep going. Oh man, I can barely write this. A year ago another friend was hit, however this time the driver DID stop, a cop came and after talking to the motorist and hearing the fateful words “I just didn’t see him, officer,” was let go. It’s pathetic.

Now, to be completely honest, I don’t especially like riding in bike lanes. The problem with them is that bike lanes are dirty and full of trash. You see, most cites don’t go around sweeping the streets, it’s the vehicles driving over the roads that brush the streets of debris, now in a bike lane there aren’t any cars—hopefully—and therefore more bits of glass, thorns and other forms of crap that we as cyclists don’t especially care for.

However! I do love bike lanes because that is a space just for us, cars aren’t allowed. A bike lane is a place where only a bike is allowed to travel and if a car does happen to clip a cyclist while driving they have to answer for it. No more of that “Oh I didn’t see him,” well it doesn’t matter if you didn’t see him, lady, you drove into the bike lane and hit him. It’s your fault.

Things have to change, things ARE changing. I’ve had too many friends die because they were doing what they love—riding their bikes. People tell me, “oh you guys shouldn’t ride here, go to a park, it’s safer.”

“Well I have just as much right to do what I love as you do, you Hick, perhaps it’s YOU that needs to change.” People aren’t trained to look for cyclists, that’s a problem. We’re working on that by including training in driver’s-ed classes pertaining to cyclists and all over the country people are getting together for group rides—that don’t include Lycra—where they go and ride around on the roads and taking the lanes. That, I think, is especially important.

We have to train motorists to see us by actually being out on the road. It’s just as much a place for bicycles as it is for cars. Newbie cyclists need to realize that the road, believe it or not, is safer than the side walk and that you have to ride WITH traffic, not against. I believe that the more cyclists we get on the roads the quicker everybody’s minds will change.

It makes me mad to see things like this-- a friend getting hit by a car-- happen. We had a little group that would go out for rides and everything was okay, no one ever got hurt. Well, that’s changed. But maybe it happened for a reason,(oh crap there’s that Fate thing, again) maybe this happened at the time it did to bring us all together.

For those of you that don’t know, Arlington, Texas is about to vote on including more pedestrian and cyclist infrastructure in its city. This is a big deal. Arlington is now, and has been for quite some time, the largest city in America without public transportation. It’s a CITY of 350,000 people who still see this place as a tiny little bedroom community with two-lane roads and quiet streets. Well, that’s not what it is and it hasn’t been like that for twenty years now.

Arlington is the home of the Texas Rangers, the new home of the Dallas Cowboys; we have Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor and is even the home of Mensa’s US headquarters. It’s a big city with a small town mentality. And the worst part is that a lot of the people who live here are too stubborn to realize that it’s no longer that. Quite a few of Arlington’s residents fear what this city is becoming, but they shouldn’t. Arlington isn’t going to lose its heritage (some say Tom Vandergriff took that a long time ago) it is simply going to become a better city for its citizens to live in.

There was a time when Arlington was connected to Dallas, Fort Worth, even Denton with street cars and was ruled by the farmer. Then Post-War America came along with GM and suburbia followed. It was supposed to be the solution to all of Urbania’s problems. Well, for a while it was, we had a surplus of oil that was below our feet waiting to come out and the Baby Boom had yet come to be. It was great.

But now we’ve hit the point of no return, we’re running out of the very thing that has fueled our society for the past eighty years and or population has exploded. The world around us has changed but our mentality has remained the same. What are we going to do?

I love bicycles, to me they are the most awesome thing ever created (thank you Leo da Vince) but I’m not going to try and convince everyone to go out, sell their cars and buy bikes. No, I’m just hoping that everyone pulls their heads out of the sand, blinks their eyes and says, “maybe we can do this instead of this, it’s not as hard as I thought!”

Please, click on over to Bike Friendly Arlington's site to sign a petition and say that, "YES", you are for bike and pedestrian infrastructure and sign-age!

Dallas!

2010-11-19T13:16:00.000-08:00

Socks and deodorant.

2010-11-18T22:55:00.000-08:00

I decided to take the winter off from my bike tour across the western half of the United States to stay in a warmer climate and get a winter job. It doesn’t cost a LOT of money— traveling on a bike—but you do need a little. So, saving some money was an attractive idea. It’s going well, I’m getting a chance to ride some of my old, favorite roads and enjoy myself in old, and new, company. And best of all I have my BOB, my cargo trailer. How I’ve missed riding around the city with my box in tow.

But like I said, I got a job for the winter. I’ve found myself in a friend’s restaurant serving the most delicious burgers and Chicken Fried Steaks I’ve had—ever—every day I go to work I think of all the miles I spent pedaling across the beautiful nothingness, the mesa’s and mountains and across the rolling badlands where all I dreamt about was an awesome burger that had flavor dripping off it and as you chased that gulp with an onion ring you smile…

I cant get that across to these people as I deliver them their lunch. But I love it; I get to do the little small talk that only an efficient server can give to five different groups at one time. But last night as I ended a successful Thursday night I was reminded of a point that I had obviously forgotten.

As I went to say my goodbyes to my coworkers I went to my manager Nick in the office and he told me that he wanted to chat about something. “Hey, come in here and close the door,“ he said, “I don’t want anyone to hear this.”

“Hey, man, listen, we’ve got to talk about something. I was talking to Tom and he as well as some of your coworkers and a few customers have mentioned things about your body odor.”

What the hell. Are you serious? As he was saying this, my mind flashed to something I had posted on Facebook days prior, after landing the job. It was referencing the scene in Into the Wild, the movie based on John Krakauer’s novel, where Chris got the gob in the middle of his journey, flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant. His manager looks down at him and tells him, “man I love you, the other employees love you but I need to tell you that you need to start wearing socks from now on.”

I went off on my bicycle for a journey into the unknown on June 22 and spent eighteen weeks on the road; in the beginning I was worried about finding a shower at least every two days. I would look for couches to crash on or even check out truck stops. Couches are unreliable and truck stop showers are too expensive. So you learn to rely on sink-washes and, well, not worrying about it! It’s amazing how a little bottle of alcohol and a mountain stream or lake every few days will settle and be more than enough. You let go.

I think I ended up going for the longest two, maybe three weeks straight without bathing? I think it was toward the end, in Utah; I left Moab and road to the Mystic Hot Springs then spent a couple weeks there. I remember I was so fried after that ride that I just laid I the hot spring every day for a week and after that time Mike and Bob both came up to me, on separate occasions, and told me to go shower and that they would let me borrow some soap if I needed it.

You just learn to let things go, things that aren’t truly necessary, when you really get to the point where you’re only worried about what you TRULY need. And when you’re carrying all the water you need—for everything— you aren’t worried about bathing.

“Oh, man, I want to tell you RIGHT now that I am truly sorry and I want to let you know that I will buy some deodorant TONIGHT!”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if it was against your religion, or if you didn’t like using it…”

“No! You see, I spent the summer riding my bike.”

Yeah I know that, I talked to Tom about that and saw it online. Okay.”

Yeah, I—honestly—just started showering regularly; I realize that I’m back in Society and that I’m needing to get back to that…”

"Okay. Well as long as you got it, I really didn’t want to bring this up but I had to.”

NEW POST!

2010-11-15T09:38:00.000-08:00

It’s been quite a while since my last post, I know this. I also realize that the last thing I talked about was how I was about to fly back to Salt Lake City and continue the trip through the winter. Well, that didn’t happen.

I got stuck in Texas, not literally but it did happen. I could have left but I didn’t. I got too comfortable. I forgot how incredible it could be to be out on the road in the cold and suffering but loving it. It happens.

But, this is fine. I’m okay—now—with the idea of staying in one place for the winter. I’m okay with the thought of seeing the same things and riding the same roads again. …maybe.

What happened? Well I got back, and without really thinking about it, got involved in some really neat community-oriented projects—bike related projects. You see, as I rode across this incredible country of ours I kept meeting these amazing people and getting tuned in to some really interesting ideas. Like when I rode through Moab and came upon their Freemeal program. I loved it; I love the idea of having a place where people in the community can come to enjoy a meal together, for free, and use it as an opportunity to socialize with each other. I saw Freemeal as a place where people came to say hello and plan their days.

I got back to Texas and was distracted with the thought of what I didn’t have. I told myself that I would need a new sleeping bag for the winter that I needed more money for food, and I was ill prepared clothing-wise. Hmm…

It’s true, I needed some stuff but I have to think what would have happened if I said “damn the torpedoes!” and went off without all of it. Really, I made it across 2,300 miles of (mostly) road on a series of good fortunes. Could I have kept that streak going, or would I have become a human popsicle?

Really, it doesn't matter. My heart made a decision and now I’m here—warm. I picked up a job for the winter and have started writing again and am riding all the roads that I know and love and it’s good. I’ve been thinking of all that I learned out there on the road and have been thinking of ways to incorporate it here, in Dallas-Fort Worth, Texas.

The plan is to get back out there in March and be on the road by April then most likely stay out there for five to six months. I’m looking forward to it.

And don’t worry, I’ve got lots of thoughts in my head itching to come out here! Check back soon.

2010-10-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

“Leaving Fort Worth is like leaving a good girlfriend- it’s hard to say goodbye.” Yes, that’s what I said in the opening of the preview for our new sustainable reality series. I never really liked it, in fact I shuddered every time I heard it. Damn, what was I thinking?

I was actually sitting atop the Mountain at the Fort Worth Water Gardens with my very dear friend Leo, we were up there trying to get some footage, “say something about leaving Fort Worth, Zac!” Ugh, should have though it out a little more!

But, here I am back in town, for a little bit longer than I had originally wanted to be. I’ll be honest, I lost some steam, lost the urge to be moving… It happened every time I stopped for more than a day while on the road: in Wichita Falls, Amarillo, Tucumcari, Las Vegas, Mora, Taos, Durango, Moab and Monroe. It is simply hard to leave the comforts of friends, beds and camaraderie!

Once again I find that it’s as hard to leave the confines of society as it is to leave the loving arms of a wonderful woman. But, all I have to do is put my shoes on and make that first pedal stroke. I have to get past the first ten miles, I have to leave the stoplights behind and get back on the road. It’s nice out there, I love it but it’s an easy fact to forget.

My newest goal, as soon as I leave SLC and get to the salt flats then the desert, is to embrace the road; I want to embrace the loneliness that hurt me previously. It’s something that can and will make me stronger albeit, perhaps, a bit more odd. But, really, I'm okay with that.

So that’s it, to be happy-- and thrive-- alone and continue onward through winter, meeting people along the way and working on myself. The next couple months are going to be even tougher than the last three of my trip. It will be cold, the mountains steeper buut I’ll also be going up then down the coast, seeing the redwoods, the vinyards and all the rest of the amazing places that that part of the world has to offer- in the non tourist season! …I’m really looking forward to it.

But that's another thing, this next stretch of road is going to be a true test for me AND my equipment.

"Wait, What?"

I'm from Dallas, Texas, I'm NOT a skier, and I've never really been in a truly cold environment. Sure, it snowed here last Christmas, but snow here isn't really like snow in the rest of the world. It's Texas snow. So it should be an interesting little test for me. I'm basically prepared for it, though; I have the equipment and the clothes, sure there's one or two more things I need but I'm set. Now I just have to get my mind set!

I know, it's been too long, what is it, two months since I was last on my touring bike? I've been enjoying myself and the company of friends back in Texas, it's been great but now it's time to get back on the road. Back to my oatmeal with peanut and coconut butter every morning, my minute rice and lentils every night; it's time for me to return to my home- my tent.

I have been enjoying this time to rest, fatten up, have some beers with people and generally take it easy but I miss the road! I really do.

About eight months before I left on this little voyage of mine I did a 130 mile overnighter to Wichita Falls, Texas for a century that happens to be somewhat popular in that part of the world. You can read the full account of day one here and day two here and the actual century ride here. The journey was great, the rally amazing but what I truly loved was talking to a man while watching the Pro criterium the night before the rally.

David Schlewitz is a chaplain in a Federal prison and likes to go on long bike rides- across the country. We sat by and watched the racers go round and round, chatting about traveling.

He said that the thing that I will come to learn is that the single greatest point of bike touring is that it IS only one thing.

It's when you're riding over a mountain, across a mesa, riding to a water source that is eight miles away. it's the knowledge that everything you could possibly need on earth is right there, strapped to your bike. All that is necessary for life and enjoying it are present and accounted for. One thing, the fact that all you have to do everyday is ride-- and eat-- and enjoy yourself. You ride into a town looking around, "where is the biggest, juiciest, fattest hamburger in this town?" Asking the locals that come up to talk to you questions about their little corner of the world.

"Where are you riding from?" "Fort Worth, Texas," is what you reply.
"Holy crap, on a bicycle?!?" "Yes, on a PEDAL bike."

It amazes people, and it makes people wonder, "what is possible?" I love doing it, I love the freedom it gives me, I can go ANYWHERE I want. I have EVERYTHING I need to survive. Writing this has me jonesing too be out there again. I have stayed in one place for much too long but tomorrow I go back and am reunited with my partner- my bike.

See you all on the road!

2010-10-03T10:25:00.000-07:00

Click on over to The Racing Post to see my most recent article and all that is bike and racing! Also, if you are in Oklahoma, Louisiana or Texas you can pick up a copy FREE from your local bike shop. And we all know that free is good.

2010-09-22T12:41:00.000-07:00

I would like to announce that we have released the trailer to our upcoming sustainable reality series! Music featuring The Orbans, great tunes and an awesome group of guys!

2010-09-15T05:56:00.000-07:00

I am returning to Dallas/Fort Worth, to where this whole thing began; I’m a little more excited than I thought I would be at the thought of this. After being on the road for just over a quarter of a year and just over two-thousand miles, and experiencing things I will never forget, I am completely stoked at the thought of returning. Yes, I’m going home to a place that, while I no longer think of it as home, will always be my home.

Yet, I haven’t come full circle; I am merely back to the same axis, the same longitude as where I started. I realized this as I was looking out the window of the plane. I sat there, 35,000 feet in the air, looking down at the small brown lines that are roads, looking down at the squares that are the towns very similar to the ones I have ridden through for the past thirteen weeks; I realized that I am not yet through with this little trip of mine. I still yearn to get back on the road, to explore the places off the Beaten Path that rarely see an outsider. I want to get back on the bike in earnest, to continue my trek across this great land that is our United States.

To think of the things that I HAVEN’T seen makes me itch to get back on that bike. When I do I will head across the barren, alien land that is the salt flats of northern Utah. I will cross the deserts of Nevada and get across the Sierra Mountain range before winter and stick to the coast like a bee to a flower all the way up to Canada.

But I’m not there yet. I’m not back on my trusty steed, Beast, I’m back in Fort Worth to my road bike. But this makes me twinge with excitement, I’ll get to do some awesome group rides with friends I haven’t seen since I left. It will give me a chance to beat up some of the old guys, hell, I might even be surprised and get pushed to the limits of my ability! Who knows, hopefully, though, this little break will give me a chance to hang out with people and possibly even do some local races. What a treat that would be!

Last year a friend of mine gave me a book for Christmas, one that I had wanted to read for quite some time. “A Walk in the Woods” by Bill Bryson proved to be exactly what I needed; he’s got a quirky type of humor that really seems to come through and keeps the pages turning. Basically the premise of the book is that Mr. Bryson has lived in England for the past twenty years writing novels and articles when all of a sudden decides he wants to return home to the US. Walking the Appalachian Trail—AT—was his way of getting reconnected with the country of his birth.

The AT, for those of you that don’t know, is a mostly wilderness hiking trail from Georgia to Maine, about 2,500 miles of up and down, rain, rocks, roots, mice and being alone. Most people take about five to six months to complete it, some up to eight, a few only four. I don’t want to spoil the book but for you all but to fully express what is going on, well, I must!

Halfway through the book, as Bill and his friend are slogging their way toward Maine, they decide to stop and go home. They decide to take a break for a couple months and it was at this point in the story were I became a little disappointed in Mr. Bryson because it was at this time that he and his friend lost the title of Through-Hikers and instead became what is called a pair of Section-Hikers.

Damn. Thinking about that and how it pertains to me, well, I don’t think I care. It’s true, I’m no longer one of the hard core elite bicycle tourists that ONLY travels by bike. I’m no longer one of those that has completed a three-thousand mile journey under his own steam. Oh well.

I’m a different kind of bike-tripper, I’m the kind that has totally embraced the journey; this is my life now, at least until I decide otherwise, and at the moment I’m in a plane. On a plane headed back to Fort Worth, to where it began, to see the people that I love and have a few beers with them, to ride another sort of bicycle, a nineteen pound titanium racing bike—a fast bike—instead of my trusty steed that is 120 pounds of all-I-need awesomeness. I’m looking forward to this. I feel I’ve earned it and when I return I know that my head will be in the right place to where I can stay on the road for another two-thousand miles!

2010-09-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

I would like to announce that after just over a quarter of a year of living on the road I will be returning too where it all started, Fort Worth, Texas, to see all my friends, both old and new!

My hope is to relax and spend time with those that I knew before i set off and those I have met since. After that I will prepare to cross the Salt Flats of Utah and the desert of Nevada ...but I don't want to think about that right now! For now, all that is on my mind is me riding an unloaded bike- a road racing bike at that- and getting in some good group rides, both fast-paced and ones that are just plain fun!

Also, I will be having a party at my favorite home away from home, TANSTAAFL Pub, and would like to see everyone that is in the Metroplex there! Let's have some fun, guys!

Hope to see all of you!
Zac, the Pondering Cyclist

Free Will-y (and fate)

2010-09-12T08:15:00.000-07:00

Free will, the act or thought of being in control of my own destiny; this is the subject that I have been pondering for the past month. I’m sorry; it’s hard for me to agree with those Fatalists out there when they say that there is no basis for me being able to decide between two paths. It’s hard for me to be hip to that ideology. I’m a creature that has been blessed with a frontal lobe, with the ability to weigh the pro’s and con’s of situations as I come to them. If we— the human species— don’t have free will and everything is pre-ordained then couldn’t we seemingly sit on our asses eating ice cream and still have everything?

This train of thought first reared its head as I was sitting with Mike Ginsburg. Mike, unlike myself, is a self-proclaimed believer of fate; that all things happen because they were going to happen, that I got the job because I was supposed to meet that man and I didn’t have any choice in the situation—just an example.

But, damn-it wasn’t I walking in to that particular coffee shop, instead of the other; and didn’t I choose to sit at THAT table, instead of the one in the corner? And, didn’t I choose to open up and start a conversation with the man across from me, instead of being quiet and sticking my nose into a book? Choices; choices that I made, that I thought about! That would be free will, right?

That was my argument, and I felt it was good enough to stand up against anyone who dared oppose my belief. But then I met Adina and we got to talking. You see, I was visiting my friends in Mora, New Mexico at Victory Ranch and she was visiting her cousin Carol, the family’s matriarch. Adina happens to teach Philosophy of Science at Dartmouth University and, of course, hearing that I had to listen to her speak!

That afternoon happened to find Adina, my friends Brian and Heidi and me all gathered up toward the back of the ranch at what is known as Tank 3; the old water holding tank that was built by the Spaniards over one-hundred years ago. It also happened to be the ranch’s swimming hole.

You see, the last time I found myself staying at the ranch I went up there to swim every day, sometimes twice it is so nice! Cold mountain water running down from the surrounding hills, pine trees that encircle half of the pond, and a wide variety of flowers; in the evenings you get to experience the most magnificent sunsets and at night you can sit by the fire-pit watching the embers float up to meet their celestial siblings. It’s a great place, indeed!

And there I was, once again, just about to jump in to the refreshingly cool water. But instead I sat beside the pool listening to the conversation that was unfolding in front of me. One of the two, I think it was Heidi, asked Adina what she was doing there on the ranch, “oh, just taking a break and getting away from the East coast for a bit.”

“Really? What do you do there?”
“I’m a professor at Dartmouth,” replied Adina.

This really seemed to get Heidi riled up; she was beyond intrigued; you see, her father was a mathematician, her mother a minister; so this woman sparked her curiosity. “Really?! What exactly do you teach?”

“Oh, I teach Philosophy of Science…”

When this was said it was my turn to be intrigued, but still, I remained quiet while Heidi continued to pepper her with questions. But finally, after listening to the conversation turn from interesting to painful I had had about enough. However, it was at this point that their conversation struck a chord with me.

Somehow one of them said the words that I had been pondering—free will. At the sound of those two syllables I immediately jumped in, cutting Heidi off mid-sentence and looked at Adina. “Let’s talk about free will.”

“I’ve been struggling with this idea for about a month, even to the point of arguing the idea of free will versus fate with people. I would love to chat with you about this!”

When I first jumped in to the conversation and after the first few words out of my mouth you could see Adina’s face start to drop, as if she were thinking, oh no not another one. But then her expression leveled and she came back with the simple reply, “okay.”

So we sat there for the next several minutes chatting, all the while Brian and Heidi were relegated to the background. I told her about my conversations with Mike at the hot springs, about my beliefs or perhaps the fact that I am stubborn and believe that I am all powerful and in control of my own universe. However, she then hit me dead, as if I were a deer staring wide-eyed into the headlights of an on-coming car.

“What if all these decisions you made, how you thought about the consequences of each action or even of not taking an action, what if that was what you were already going to do?”

Crap! I didn’t know what to say! She had completely blown holes into my number one argument and had shown me the truly complex idea that is free will. Damn it! What could I say?

“I’ll have to think about that,” as I slumped—defeated—into my tank-side lounge chair. “I think I need a beer.”

That’s where it gets complicated and that is where I am stuck. What if, after all, we are just floating around in this space that we inhabit and there is a giant script telling what will happen? I, like Homie the Clown, don’t play that way. Perhaps it’s the rebellious spirit that lies inside me, perhaps it’s, like I said before, that horrible stubborn streak that pops out whenever someone tells me what to do without asking for my input. Hmm, that would make sense.

I’m still uncertain and I have a feeling that I will no sooner figure out the answer to this riddle as I will collect all the sand from the Sudan. People have been pondering this very question far longer than I have even been alive and still they aren’t certain.

I still believe that I have the power to make decisions for myself, yet, at the same time as I look at some of the happenstance occurrences during the last three months of this little bike journey I’m on it’s hard to NOT believe in fate!

Some of the people that I have met have been so incredibly instrumental in helping me, giving me food, showing me new ways of thinking that it would be hard not to think that they were put there for me to find. BUT, I STIL FOUND THEM! Could I have decided to NOT talk to these individuals? Could I have decided instead to go to Milford, Utah instead of Salt Lake City, as I was originally going to do?

…and suddenly my head hurts.

So, tell me what you, dearest readers of mine, think about this. How do you feel? Fate or free will. Help me out with this one, guys!

2010-09-09T19:48:00.000-07:00

It's just as easy to make things complicated as it is to make them simple; however, it's the letting go that's the hard part.

My next post is going to be discussing the concept of free will, and I would love to hear what you all think about it.

SLC - Wendover

2010-09-08T00:30:00.000-07:00

Next on the agenda will be for me to ride the 112 miles from Salt Lake City, Utah to West Wendover, Nevada. This will take me across the surreal landscape that is the salt flats.

To be honest I am completely excited about this next stretch of road! A moonscape of flat salinated earth; oh man.

A new day: Part 2

2010-09-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

Eyes forward; my goal is to push this trip of mine as far as I can, to not focus on those things that I have left behind and to see what I can make for myself. Last night I was talking to a friend, venting really, I was telling him that I was second guessing myself— that perhaps this isn’t the best thing for me to do…

Wow. I can’t believe I said that! I started planning this trip with the mindset that it would be an adventure, that I could meet new people and experience new ways of living life and I’ve done just that. This little bike ride has opened my eyes to so many new things and all the people that I have met thus far have given me more than I could have previously dreamed.

“Stay on the path that you are on and you will go far,” is what Dean told me last night, “remember, you’re only 25 years old! You’re young and you are focused, you know what you want from life! Don’t discount that!” Man, I needed to hear that, for as focused and driven as I am I have this little voice that creeps up on me in the back of my brain and whispers doubts. It tells me, “you should be home, working; this is a stupid thing you’re doing; riding a bike across the country, what a waste of time!”

I have to remember to grab a stick and beat him down, get him to shut his mouth, lock him in a cage and throw it in the bay. I have to remember that this trip is giving me more in value than anything else I could be doing.

When I first got back in to Taos I sought out a friend that I met the last time I was here; his name is John and he is a writer and poet who spends his days either on the corner of the Plaza, sitting beneath the shade of an umbrella or at the coffee shop down the street playing against the local high school chess team. A great man who’s been There and done That numerous times.

At the time I was coming off of a great two week stay at the Mystic Hot Springs where I had spent the majority of my time working; pulling weeds, building the foundation for a greenhouse and basically learning new ways of existing. I was high with this new found energy and knowledge; it must have been obvious.

“You’re not the same person you were last time, are you,” he asked. “No, not quite”, the desert changed me, those miles through hell with no water seemed to prepare me for what was coming—like a fast before a ritual. I sat down next to him to talk and after a couple minutes he told me that he wanted to give me an I Ching reading. “I think it’s time,” he said.

So I did what I was told, grabbing the three coins, shaking them up in my hand and dropping them haphazardly onto the mat between us. “Seven,” he said. I then did this five more times. Now, I’m an open-minded person but I only trust those things which I can prove. Never have I been one to put too much faith in magic.

However, by the time I was done tossing my coins and I heard what the pattern told me it was as if it knew what I had gone through in Utah. It spoke of me learning new things, seeing new directions and finally telling people about my discoveries. “Share what you have learned but remember, you might run into opposition—doubts— from people. Stay strong in your new beliefs.”

John and I continued to talk for the next hour; he told me that he just got a gig writing for the Taos monthly magazine. It seemed that things were starting to happen for the two of us.

I bid him adieu and set off to my next stop, the Ashram which is the Hindu temple down the road from the Taos Plaza. The first time I was in Taos I had met a couple people who had opened my eyes to this place. It is such a wonderful, beautiful place; quiet, peaceful and full of love.

The thing that I remember from that day, from talking to John and walking around the town, that I had a feeling of simply being content. I was totally happy, finding myself back in a place that I had been before, where I new people. It was good. Taking this feeling with me, and being bored, I walked into the Ashram’s kitchen where there were people busy at work preparing the day’s meal and asked, simply, “is there anything I could do to help?”

With a bit of a surprised look, for I guess I had taken them a bit off guard, one of them finally came forward, “let me look around, hold on.” Brian came back and introduced himself to me and handed me a rag and bottle of window cleaner, “you’re tall, how about cleaning the temple’s windows?”

This sounded like a pretty good job; you see, I love working, I love doing Zen Work where I can accomplish something yet have my mind on my thoughts. And that’s exactly what happened as I took my rag and bottle and went around the outside of the building. I thought about all that had happened in the last three weeks: my trip across I-70 through the beautiful and barren wasteland of Utah; my stay at Mystic, working for my meals and chatting to the people there. It was good.

After finishing the windows and lurking around the temple, looking at the books and gardens, basically taking in all the wonder that surrounds the place, I was ready to leave. “Oh but aren’t you going to stay for dinner,” asked Brian, “we are serving it outside in the garden and have plenty to share!” Well, I can’t say no to good food and it would provide me more time to soak in the Ashram’s glory, “sure,” I said, “I’d love to!”

Oh, what a treat that was. Sitting out in the garden, a peacock walking around in the flowers, the sun getting low on the horizon and a general peace surrounding us as we ate the amazing meal that had been prepared. It was, well, it was good. I had no idea that this is what would happen, all I wanted to do was to go and be in a place where I could relax, think and maybe write a bit. And there I was filling my body with such nutrition.

I left shortly after, walking around the long picnic tables where people were still chatting and finishing their food—I eat a bit faster than most— I said goodbye to my new friend Brian, telling him to expect me back in the future, and finally walking out through the flowers and finally the entryway of what could be a paradise.

My night went on, I got online and chatted with some friends; still feeling utterly at peace with myself. Is this what happens when you do what you love? I’m still not sure but I can tell you that contentedness isn’t something that comes naturally to me. I always think ahead, think of what else I could be doing, and think “maybe it would be better if...” Hmm, I’ll have to put more time into this. I’ll have to examine myself a bit more and get back to you!

2010-09-04T18:09:00.001-07:00

More on my New Day coming soon, plus some of this!

...a cyclist, writing his way across the country.

2010-09-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

Head on over to The Racing Post to read my newest article and check out all that is cycling in Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma and across the globe!

A new day: Part 1

2010-08-31T18:10:00.000-07:00

So, today finds me, finally, leaving the wonderful world that is the Mystic Hot Springs. However, instead of riding south then west to Milford, Utah and Tonopah, Nevada I will be going north to Salt Lake City! And instead of riding (oh man, here it comes) I will be hitching a ride in a friend’s car…

“Wait,” I hear you cry, “wait, you can’t do that!” “You’re on a bike tour, that means you have to ride!” Well, I understand that line of thinking but I no longer see this as simply a bicycle tour but rather a journey on which I happen to be riding a bike. My route has grown and morphed numerous times now and I have embraced the freedom that comes from living on the road.

But why Salt Lake City, why not continue on my chosen path across the Nevada desert to Lake Tahoe? Because I wanted to check the town out! I have heard too many good things about this town and I haven’t been to a metropolitan environment since I left Fort Worth, eleven weeks ago.

Man, thinking about that, those eleven weeks of living on the road and all that I’ve seen and the ways that I have changed as a human being, well, it’s been a long, strange trip. And I’m not even halfway done!

And here I am, deep behind the Zion curtain just blocks away from the SLC Temple, sitting in the Bad Ass Coffee Company talking to a new friend. I spent the last hour running around going to thrift stores looking for slacks, shoes and a sport coat. Once again I can hear you ask “why is he looking for dress clothes when he’s supposed to be riding across the country?” I’ll lay it all out there, I’m going to hop on a plane and fly into Albuquerque then driving to Taos to visit a dear friend I met there, then jump on another and fly to New Orleans to see my mom!

Ha! Quite the funny little side trip, eh? You see I am blessed with the good fortune of having a mom that works for the airline and I want to take a vacation… from my vacation! However, that is just the thing; I have grown over the past two-plus months and I no longer look at this as a vacation, this has become my life- at least for the time being.

You see, during the past month I have been thinking long and hard about what I’m doing out here and struggling with the idea of simply letting go of the world I once lived in. I don’t yet fully understand all that this Letting Go entails; when I do I will try to explain it further. The world of doing things simply because “that is the way they are done.” I want more, I wanted to set off on a trip across the western United States but now I’ve realized that that wasn’t quite all that it was.

I wanted adventure, yes, and to ride great distances across country I’ve never seen before, true, but I also wanted The Experience. I wanted, like I mentioned months before even leaving Texas, to meet people and see new ways of living. Well, I’m doing that and I’m finding it hard to go back!

I want to keep this journey of mine going as long as I possibly can and I’m looking in to ways of doing this and one is to give myself a break now and then. You see, it’s hard to keep going, always meeting new people and never seeing anyone that you’ve previously had contact with. Friends not strangers is what I say, yes, but it sure is nice to share an inside joke or a memory with someone.

I have changed in the past week and a half, I feel as if I’m so very close to being free and losing the sadness that I feel whenever I think of Texas and the life I led there. There’s so much out here on our little planet that I have to think of the things I haven’t seen and more importantly the lessons I have learned from all those people I have met along the way.

Mike Ginsburg, the owner and operator of Mystic Hot Springs told me that when he was only eighteen he took stock of his life and looked at what he enjoyed and what he didn’t. “Do I want to smoke cigarettes, consume caffeine, or be eat meat?” He said. “Is this something that works for me, that I enjoy?” So what he did was to start pushing away those things he didn’t care to have around him and draw closer things that he did.

It’s not an easy decision; it requires a lot of hard work to make a living doing what you love and even more to moderate it enough where you will continue to enjoy those things. But, life itself is hard; either way you go there will be struggle so why not struggle toward an end that will bring happiness?

So here I am, letting go of those things that I abhor; traffic, pollution, that stupid nine-to-five-ness of working day after day in a cubicle or any other job that you find yourself in. I want to blaze my own path, be my own boss, and I’m looking to the examples that other’s have set before me. Still I struggle with the idea of this but, damn it, I’m really close! It’s right there in front of me and I simply have to keep going.

After my little aside from the ride, my trips to Taos and New Orleans, I will continue on. Riding west across the salt flats of Utah then across Nevada to Tahoe and up to Canada. I’ll be entering fall very soon, it will grow colder but I will love it. How couldn’t I, it’s so very different from anything I have experienced before in the blast-furnace that is Texas; mountains, rivers and very soon snow!

I don’t feel bad about once again cheating- getting a ride in a car- I got to hang out with some amazing people because of it and get to jump on these planes even sooner. Heck, it was one-hundred and eighty miles; I’ll make that up simply by riding across I-80 to Reno. But that isn’t the point; my bicycle is still my proffered mode of transportation just as it has been for the past five years. I still feel that the bike is the perfect way to see a land. Nothing has changed, except for my outlook on life and I will be forever grateful to it for that.

As the world turns... in Utah.

2010-08-27T12:20:00.000-07:00

Last week, in Moab, I was sitting at the community Freemeal enjoying pizza, burritos and a great conversation. David, the man I was talking to, was telling me about a someone he knows who for the past eleven years has lived without the aid of money. He has traveled the US, Hawaii and has even had books written about him. It amazed me, how is this possible? How does one live without money?

Being raised in a city such as Dallas I was completely astounded as to how one would go about doing this. To me, one earns their money then uses it to buy things; food, a place to live, recreation, we need money for these. That’s how life is.

But, is there another way? The other day I was cruising around sans-baggage, just out enjoying myself, reveling in the beautiful weather in this part of the world; happy as a clam I went too fast into a gravel turn, slid-out and crashed. The result was a bit of road rash—nothing too bad—and a broken bike. I trashed my shifter, bent my derailleur hanger and broke the rear derailleur. Sad face, indeed.

Frantically, yet without stressing (for I really wanted to go around yelling), I made some calls; after the fifth call to friends and friend’s bike shops I gave up the search for a cheap replacement, bit the bullet and made the call to order a new set. Replacement cost for my lackadaisical mistake? One-hundred and eighty dollars.

So, I placed the order and started the waiting process, stuck for four days without wheels... when your entire universe centers around a bicycle and you find yourself without said bike it can be difficult. I started reading, met some people camping here at Mystic hot springs and got to know my surroundings.
It was a crazy couple of days. A band, [Uncle Lucius], rolled in from Austin, Texas and stayed to play an acoustic show up on the hill next to the springs; we had a bonfire, soaked in the tubs and generally enjoyed life. I forgot about my bike problem, it was a nice break.

It turned out to work, literally, in my favor for it was in that period that I was introduced to the idea of work-trade. I began covering my stay by working a few hours every day. Not too bad.

You see for the past four weeks or so, and I’ve been on the road nearly nine now, I have thought about the concept of making my trip—my journey—a self-sustaining one. How can I make it so I am covering all the expenses of riding my bicycle across this, our United States? I must find a way.

I’ve got this blog, The Pondering Cyclist, which I have thoroughly enjoyed building; I have written four articles now for the Texas Racing Post, which is pretty neat; yet I want to see what else I can do. I’ve really started getting off on my idea of becoming a cyclist writing his way across the country!

So that’s an option, one that I will have to work up to. But here I am still at the Mystic hot springs working for my stay! Yesterday, for example, I was out enjoying the day, moving pieces of timber and assorted lumber putting them on a log-cabin turned saw-horse and removing all the nails so we could then re-use the wood.

It was a good day, even had a stab of fear as I found a giant snake coiled under the timber; and I got to chat with a man that was there enjoying the springs, working as I was. We were sweating by the time we were done but had a giant pile of rusty nails to mark our day’s progress

That is another option, one that I am starting to look at more. The man I was working with on the timber pile, Tom, decided to quit his job in the North-east three years ago and start driving around. He has worked farms and other such places in California, Florida, Hawaii and Oregon. After hearing this from him I started listening a little more closely. He explained to me how he’s been working his own trip. “Check out WWOOF,” he said. Turns out he had given me a great tool, another option in my quest to support myself on the road.

Turns out WWOOF could be a great thing for me to try! What it is is a database of organic farms across the world where you can go to work, a few hours every day, in exchange for free room and board. What a concept! Very similar to Couch Surfing but you get to work in some pretty cool environments, in the dirt!

Thinking about this new tool I came to the conclusion that while it won’t be something I do all the time it would be good to use every now and again. For an opportunity to get off the bike for a week or two and use muscles other than those in my legs and back! I would have the opportunity to eat good, homegrown produce that is days old instead of stuff shipped half-way around the world before landing on the dinner table.

With this in mind I talked for hours with another guy I met in camp, Dave from Sedona. Man, what a guy! I completely enjoyed every minute of our conversations. I saw him pull in a couple days before in a four wheel drive van pulling what can best be described as a Gypsy Wagon. He told me that he used the wagon as a way to teach his children some basic wood working. Building it up form a standard flat-bed trailer they framed the sides, made a arched roof, and put in a stove and sink! The paint, however, was what was truly neat. Yellow with red trim and blue thrown in, it was quite beautiful.

The more Dave and I chatted the more we seemed to hit it off. He took off in his early years and became, like the wagon he now tows, a gypsy. Traveling across the United States and all through the west, mostly on a motorcycle but also sometimes in a bus named Furthur. Later he offered me a place to stay if ever I make it to Arizona. That got me thinking.

I have increased the trip’s mileage quite a bit from the original route which was only thirty-three hundred miles to one that is now around five-thousand and am now thinking of lengthening it to include a return trip home from San Diego. I had originally planned on flying home upon reaching the border to Mexico but now, well, it’s become hard for me to deal with the idea of this trip ending on a runway in Dallas…

It now seems odd, the thought of returning to the life of living in an apartment, in the city/suburbs and dealing with the routine of getting in lines and waiting for things or not being able to look up at the stars at night while sleeping in a meadow. I know there will be a point where this trip of mine will have to come to an end but I have become so streamlined and accustomed to living life this way so why should I be so quick to end it? This is where the self-sustaining journeyman idea comes to mind.

If I, no, when I decide to include the return trip home from California I will add about another thirteen-hundred miles and around a month and a half to the cumulative tine and mileage. If this occurs I don’t see myself being done till sometime in February. The route would most likely be Vancouver down the coast to San Diego then over to Sedona and on to Las Cruces, New Mexico. From there I would hit up El Paso, Texas, Fort Davis to see the mountains and observatory, on to Big Bend then Austin.

Last night I was talking to a now dear friend in Taos about the return of an old feeling in the pit of my stomach. This represents the feeling of me not thinking I am working hard enough. It’s a reminder that perhaps I could focus more, put more energy into whatever it is I am doing. And right now this means I need to get to work on making a living while on this trip.

So, what are my plans? Besides working for places I meet along the way in return for food or lodging it includes more time pounding not only the pedals of my bicycle but the keys of my computer. I want to be the best writer I can be, I read and study author’s punctuation usage and style and everyday think about what I can do to make me succeed in this world.

Soon I will start sending articles to every magazine I can think of that pertains to me and this trip. I want to get out there and share, I want to show everyone what I am doing because this is in fact an awesome way to live; traveling on a bicycle across the country, meeting people and staying places which I would have never in my life thought to visit. Having seen so much, learned so much (like how not to crash in a parking lot full of gravel) and met so many incredible people I can’t see this stopping. I need to keep going, I need to see what’s around the next bend.

So, wish me luck; my mind is full of thoughts, I’m a bit anxious at the thought of what is about to come, both in the ride across Nevada and with me putting edge to grind-stone. But, one thing I know is that if I work diligently everyday toward a goal then there is no reason why I shouldn’t achieve it. It has been proven I just have to remember the words Everyday, Without Fail, NO Exceptions.

Natural relaxation.

2010-08-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

I finally made it to a place people have been telling me about for three states now, the Mystic Hot Springs in Monroe, Utah. It's one of those places that's off the beaten path, one you have to know about to get to but totally worth the trip.

Located at the base of a mountain that pumps hot spring-water out at one-hundred and sixty degrees Mike Ginsburg, the wonderful proprietor, has designed a system of channels that funnel the water into seven foot long cast iron bathtubs and into large soaking pools. Fortunately by the time it reaches these the water is at a comfortable ninety to one-hundred degrees.

Besides the springs, Mystic also offers a unique place to pass the time. You can choose to stay in one of Mike's historical cabins or even live the Hippy life-style in one of his converted school buses! It's a place you can come to to relax and see how things might be different if we change our ways of thinking slightly.

For the past fourteen years Mike has made it his goal to live life his way and to surround himself with things he finds joy in knowing that there are others out there that share in his taste. It's a dogma he's lived by since he was a child. The phrase To Thine Own Self Be True comes to mind.

So make the trip out here to Utah, see how great life can be by slowing down and soaking in the calcium rich spring water, heck, you might even get to see one of the great performances he puts on when his friends come into town!

Dream-catcher.

2010-08-15T13:36:00.001-07:00

Cycling is a sport unlike all others; it is full of incredible amounts of pain, joy, beauty and camaraderie. It’s simply one of those masochistic suffer-fests that bring out all that is awesome in the world and there is nothing that exemplifies that more than the group-ride.

Riding a bike is as much a group sport as it is an individual one for you can take advantage of another rider’s effort by slipping behind him and into his draft. Think of it as the opposite of sailing, where one can tack in front of a competitor’s boat and “steal” his wind; on a bike ride you can save an incredible amount of energy simply through riding behind a fellow cyclist. However, one must realize that when you get a bunch of pain-loving type A personalities together, especially when clad in tight fitting Lycra, that it will usually turn out to be more than a simple Sunday stroll.

That’s what occurred last night, and I didn’t help at all. It had been nearly six months since my last group-ride and I was incredibly excited. I was in another state—Indiana—riding a borrowed bike and showing up with a new friend; after making our way to the meeting place and waiting for the ubiquitous clicking of fifty cyclist stepping in to their pedals to signify that the ride had started we set off to enjoy an evening on our bicycles.

I wrote that more than two months ago and the thought of once again getting on my road bike, all 19 pounds of it makes my mouth water. It is completely different type of machine, the racing bike, built to go fast and carve through corners as if it’s on rails; it is stiff and incredibly fun to ride. Now, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Beast, my touring rig, but it’s just a different animal.

I was talking about this the other day with my friend and great supporter, Don Walker, he has built three bikes for me now, all are perfect in their own realms. The first was my Pursuit bike which was built for one specific race, the 2004 Elite Track Nationals. I ended up riding that thing to a fourth place finish in the Espior category which, for all of you that either don’t race means under twenty three year olds.

That was my very first custom built bike and was, is, an incredibly sexy machine. It features a nearly full length seat tube which for 2004 was a pretty big deal. Unfortunately I quit racing and didn’t use it to the full extent of its possibilities. Something I hope to rectify in future seasons.

From there, like I mentioned, I quit racing and embarked on another type of adventure; however, THAT particular adventure was a bit different. It took me nearly a year and a half to get back on a saddle, this was when I truly discovered how much I love and in a way NEED the bicycle.

You see, my bike has always been an escape for me; a way for me to be a cowboy, a way for me to become an adventuring Archaeologist that goes down rivers to discover ancient treasure. It’s that as well as a form of therapy; I can go out on a day-long ride and explore, forget, think, and remember. When I came back all this was waiting for me I simply had to find it.

And find it I did! I asked Don to build me another bike for my previous one had been stolen, which thinking about it was okay, it was time for that one had about forty-thousand miles on it. It was about dead!

So Don set off to build me a road bike, I had planned on him doing this for a while so I knew what direction to steer him- if that’s even possible- he, however, already knew what he wanted to build me. It came out, once again, as perfection achieved. A eighteen pound (with race wheels) steel framed compact road bike. Marvelous! It was flat black with Campagnolo Record components. I knew I was in love the minute I saw it.

Now, saying something about Don’s knowledge on building bicycle frames, I am six foot five inches tall and all legs, this means that I ALWAYS have a huge drop from the saddle to the handlebars which means I lean over quite a bit and previously always had back pain on longer rides. Don, knowing this, made an incredibly long front end so wouldn’t have to lean over quite so far.

Over time I got to the point where I was doing one-hundred mile rides like they were no big deal and eventually completed a one-hundred and fifty mile ride. All with no (back) pain, I hurt in other places after that but we don’t have to discuss those!

Don’s bikes end up looking like art but I don’t really want to call them that because they are purpose built machines. He is an aircraft mechanic by training and has the mind of an engineer. You give him a problem or something that you want to focus on and, usually after Scotch, will bust out an answer to the problem. He has built track racing tandems that can support the combined energies of two football player-like cyclists and even racing tricycles.

So, when the idea of me riding what will now be more than five-thousand miles popped in my head I knew I could only trust one person to make me a bike that even stands a chance of holding up to the abuse it would see. I called him and after much discussion and laughter, on his part, we struck a deal. It wasn’t hard, though, I told him long ago that I would only ride his frames, not only because of their superiority but because I think he is a great guy.

Beast, my touring bike, nearly has two-thousand miles on it and I have had no problems with it. I’ve talked to touring cyclists I’ve met on the road and hear stories of bikes wobbling, spokes breaking, and general discomfort. I, however, have experienced none of these. I am forever thankful to Don for accepting the challenge of building this bike for me and once again can easily say that I would be proud to ride his bikes as long as he will keep building them for me!

Oh, how I'd like to swing on a star!

2010-08-13T23:54:00.000-07:00

The stars at night are big and bright, deep in the heart of Utah! For those of you that don’t know, we are currently in what’s called the Meteor Shower Season and let me tell you, it’s been a good one! Last night I camped up on a ridge in the Capitol Reef National Park and went to sleep watching my own cosmic fireworks display. It was absolutely amazing; the nearest town was sixty miles away and it was perfectly pitch-black.

This night of awesomeness came after what might be the hardest day of the trip for me, both mentally and physically. I was riding across outlaw country in Utah, a place that has absolutely no water, climbs that seem to never cease and a headwind like none that I have encountered before.

Now, I grew up in and around year now, Texas, a place known for its high winds. I remember from rides past having to literally lean my bike into the cross-wind to keep it up, and the headwinds? Well, there’s a reason I’m called a time-trial machine. But, these winds out here on I-70 in Utah; well, there just plain beastly!

It didn’t help that usually when I would be tacking back and forth across my little shoulder, trying to keep the pedals moving, I would have a hill to deal with. Then we can add the eight, yes! Eight, additional liters of water that are now strapped to my bike; it was, how can we say, a bitch.

The previous day in Green River, I had seen an Amtrak station and it was more than once that the thought of turning around and buying a ticket popped into my head. No! I cannot allow those types of thoughts to even enter my consciousness. It was that very instant that I realized that this stretch, the very one that I have been freaking-out about for over a year now, was to make me stronger than even all the mountains in Colorado ever could; and not just physically, obviously, but mentally, too.

Why? Because this stretch is accentuating my sort-comings, it’s bringing them out of the closet and in to daylight where they can rip and tear away at me. Yesterday was hard, like I said, not only because of the wind and the hills but the desolation. You see, I thrive on the interaction with others, not to say I don’t like my alone time but it’s when I get around people that I shine.

Yesterday I was pushing myself to the limit in a very inhospitable land. I would stop and rest, catch some shade then ride on; all while carrying my ten total liters of water. Then getting back on the bike would immediately go back and repeat. This got to me, I wondered if I could actually do it. I needed to talk to someone. Yet there was no cell reception. Darkness falls upon my land.

Finally I get to a remote island of cell reception and get out my phone. I call my mom and we chat, I had a little cry then we talk about how I am not perfect. She told me that I am good at a lot of things but that I am NOT an isolationist. We talked about how this time, when all my weaknesses start to pop their heads out of the sand that this is a perfect opportunity to focus on them.

Especially looking at the fact that I have no cell reception and can’t talk to people, this is not a negative, Zac, this is a positive. I am out here on the road, riding through the desert and this is an opportunity for me to look for and work on things about myself. Unlike any other time, NOW is perfect for this.

Yesterday was my first time of the trip to ride into the night; I put in about fifteen miles after the sunset which in Utah, with the canyons surrounding you, is a pretty awesome sight. My ride last night was an interesting one, I had the scope of my headlamp and the occasional headlights as vehicles passed me. It was quite a queer feeling for you never knew where the road was going or what it would do unless you had the tail-lights of the car in front of you visible. I never knew when the road would turn up or down, left or right.

So, I cut the ride short, I was uncomfortable in the night-time environment, especially seeing as there was absolutely no moon light. I pulled off the road and into the Capitol Reef National Park and fell asleep without even eating dinner.

Now, I write this sitting in my tent, it’s Nine AM and I have yet to learn to wake up early to ride in this terrain, it’s already hot and I have thirty miles into town. Today I think I will put in a nice seventy miles. I want to start getting higher mileages but I know that won’t happen till I start rising with the sun or better yet, beating it up. It’s a different world out here, one that lives by a different set of rules; I’m learning them as I go and using it to improve myself.

Burrow down, man!

2010-08-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

"We think, sometimes, there's not a dragon left. Not one brave night, not a single princess gliding through secret forests, enchanting deer and butterflies with her smile.

We think sometimes that ours is an age past frontiers, past adventures. Destiny, it's our way over the horizon; glowing shadows galloped past long ago, and gone."

I too thought this way for the majority of my life-- to a point. I grew up with my father's stories of busting broncos in the mountains of New Mexico and driving the cows across the range. I loved movies like "Indiana Jones" and read books like Gary Paulson's "Hatchet." Yet at the same time I didn't believe it. I knew, from my own experiences riding across the bike paths and venturing into the deepest, darkest creeks that they were still to be had.

Riding into Moab, Utah the other day I was excited by the sudden change in scenery; going from mountains to canyonlands is a drastic change. But rolling through the town I was suddenly a bit down. I was tired from pushing hard over the highway. I was rolling at around twenty-three miles per hour the majority of the day. It was an amazing feeling of invincibility and strength but the memory of thqat feeling didn't stick around. In stead I was left with the darkbness that is being totally spent, using all that is inside you.

That night I camped at ann abandoned tourist gondola that had stood unused for over ten years, never carrying a single passenger. The next day I awoke with the sun, washed my face and went to the local Holiday Inn for its delicious continental breakfast. It's amazing how quickly moods change. After fattening up on sausages, omelets and bagels I went back to my campsite to make a cup of coffee that I could drink, something a little more "leaded" than the motel chain's burnt water.

Packed and caffeinated I went for a scramble over the rocks and canyon walls that flanked me. Climbing over, jumping onto and finally pulling myself to the top of the rim I stood amazed at what lay in front of me.

I was told that Moab is quite unique topographically. It has to the East the La Sal mountains and the town lies in a valley which has Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park and the Colorado river all within sight. Then there are the canyon walls and the psychedelic moonscape that is the land opposing the canyon. Wow, it was quite an explosion of natural wonder.

These sights turned my head on to a whole other feeling of wonder and joy. That, and the fact that I went to the community Freemeal for lunch and met someone that was going to show me a cold lake to swim in. There's something rather joyous about a cold body of water, it washes all the stress as well as the dirt right off of you.

There are adventures to be had, I think we as a society forget this. I grew up in Dallas, Texas, home of 1.3 million people and it was hard-- is hard-- for people in that type of environment to think of what I am doing right now and the places I am as anything but something from a magazine article or a movie. It's simply not something that is done! Well, I wanted to actually go out and LIVE the Outside Magazine pictures and the stories from people such as Joe Kurmaskie.

Well, it's like Richard Bach writes about later in his book A Bridge Over Forever, there are adventures left in this world they are simply inn different forms. I believe that if you want to do something, damn the torpedoes and go ahead and do it. Don't live in the world of this is how we do things. Do for yourself.

Anyway, I went a little out there today; I've had quite a bit on my mind lately mainly focussing on the fact that I am nervous as hell about my next stretch in this journey. I keep telliing myself that I can't focus on the worry-- the negatives-- but rather target my goal, what I want to happen. I need to see it happening and go toward that.

Except the things I am nervous of are so tangible it is hard for me to focus on anything else. The dry, hot desert that I am about to cross to go to Lake Tahoe is here, now. Damn! So, what to do?

I have given myself two goals to reach before I get to Tahoe; one a hot spring owned by an old Dead Head and the other a friend of a friend that is a chiropractor. This is helping tremendously but today I woke up and it was all I could do to get on the bike.

Now, however, I lie here in the Green River city park, under a shade tree eating a cantaloupe with a pocket-knife. All is good and with any luck after a good night's rest and tomorrow's coffee I will be ready to hit the road. In fact, I know I will be ;)

2010-08-08T00:48:00.000-07:00

Have you found yourself in Moab, Utah? Are you hungry? Go to Ye 'Ol Geezer meat shop!

Texas Racing Post

2010-08-08T00:26:00.001-07:00

This month not only marked the fifteen-hundredth mile but my first article of the trip! Head on over to The Racing Post to check it out!

Want more pictures?

2010-08-06T10:53:00.001-07:00

I post the majority of my pictures on the Pondering Cyclist Facebook page, check it out!

There are no wrong turns.

2010-08-05T10:05:00.000-07:00

Six weeks into this trip saw me waking up in the Four Corners town of Dove Creek, Colorado which is just inside of eight miles away from the Utah border. I was very excited but at the same time a bit nervous; you see I have been struggling with the idea of riding across Utah and Nevada since before I left on journey. But, more on my feelings in a bit, let me get on with the day.

I spent the night in a cute little city park, a lot that was previously a woman’s house. It had a lush, green lawn with manicured shrubs, even a rose bush; quite the setting for an enjoyable cup of coffee. But, I had to roll on, I wanted to be in Moab, Utah by nightfall and that is a good seventy mile ride. However, I have been living by the No Riding Till Nine AM rule so I had a few hours to enjoy myself.

After washing dishes and packing the bike I was off, toward the highway; but, instead of keeping my wheels on the black-top, I veered off onto a side road. I was told that this particular road ran parallel to the inter-state and would eventually rejoin it. However, the farmer failed to mention the fact that I would have to make a right turn to do this.

So, on I rode, until it turned into gravel and started making grand sweeping motions through the country which, by this point, had turned into canyon-land. It was a fun road. Up, down, left right, all on a choppy dirt and gravel surface; I was having so much fun, in fact that I failed to realize that I had gone a full ten miles AND had ridden into Utah. I was lost.

I flagged down a friendly Postal carrier and asked the defeated question, “where am I?” She, even though a letter carrier, had no idea how to tell me to get to my mid-point of Monticello, Utah, and suggested I turn around. Now, turning around is a hard thing for me to do, figuratively speaking, but I did it anyway—riding back to Dove Creek with my tail between my legs…

On the way, though, I caught sight of a set of wooden houses with a shop behind. I decided I should ask, once again, for directions but this time to see how to stay on this blessed car-free dirt road and still get to Monticello. It turns out this was the best decision I could have made.

I walked into the shop and was hit by its grandness; it had motorcycles strewn about, an antique Harley Davidson trike, even lifts and lathes; these were some serious dudes. I got to talking to the owner of the magical compound, Bubba Montgomery, a retired underwater construction engineer of thirty years. He had grown up in southern Louisiana, nine miles from my mom’s hometown; such a small world.

His career had taken him all over the globe, diving at times to three hundred and fifty feet under the ocean. Bubba is a big bear of a Cajun man, nearly as tall as I am but altogether more massive; I liked him from the start.

He and his friend Rick showed me, both on my map and by drawing one of their own, the route that I would need to take across the dirt, down and up a canyon rim and on to Monticello. However, instead of thanking them and taking off I allowed myself to stay for a chat. And it was this chat that turned into an afternoon of beer drinking and storytelling. Yes!

We talked politics, business, the Current State of Affairs and even Louisiana Cock-fighting. It was good, though, eventually we ran low on beer; we would have to go get more.

The trip to the Beer Store was an eventful one for on the return side we stopped by a friend of theirs, Hippy Bob. Hippy Bob once lived in Aspen and in fact still owns property there, but about ten years ago moved out to Dove Creek and bought two hundred acres. He has worked, on and off, at building his Stone House on this site since then. On the way to see him Bubba mentioned that he was, in fact, more than “just a hippy,” he was quite an accomplished blacksmith and maker of sheepskin coats. This piqued my interest.

We drove up to his trailer and immediately I saw something awesome, he had a great wooden door going INTO the rock! This was the corridor to his spring which he told me had been blasted out of the rock in the Sixties.

I saw his shop, we all drank more beer and Bob then took me for a walk about his property. It was a pretty amazing place; the site for his Rock House was on the rim of a little canyon which also had a spring. He went on to tell me that there were cliff dwellings below the rim so obviously he had chosen a good spot, if the Natives of old thought here was good then I would assume the same.

Hippy Bob had spent the last ten years laying and fitting stone, going to quarries and meticulously planning out the entire structure of this, the house he would die in. I think that’s pretty amazing, designing and building a place for yourself, one that would last the rest of your lifetime if not more. He showed me all his busses and cars, quite the collection but it was getting late and we decided it was time to head back to Bubba’s fort.

Getting back we all ate fresh chicken fried steak with rice and gravy, continued the storytelling and beer drinking but eventually I had to call it a night. Riding across the country doesn’t make you a good all night party animal. That night I got to sleep in a bed in Bubba’s bunkhouse and all was good.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I took that detour but what I found was great. Good people, one of which knows my family, great times and that amazing road! In the morning I continued off across Utah in search of Monticello by way of the Coal Bed Canyon. It turned out to be just under thirty miles of dirt. It got to be so gnarly that I had to remove my front fender so the mud could clear and I could keep moving.

My preconceived stresses over this next section are gone because now I know that whatever I get into will turn out to be amazing if only for the story. I’m looking forward to getting out of Monticello today and riding off to Moab which, for me, has become the gateway west. I’m ready and I’ll be embracing this next challenge!

Me, on the radio?

2010-08-04T14:54:00.000-07:00

YES! Tonight at 7PM at Mambo's Cantina in Ft Worth, the John Rody Webcast will have me on to ask some questions about the trip and to hopefully have some fun! Click HERE to go to the official website!

Mesa Verde teaser.

2010-08-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

Here's something that will whet your palette in anticipation of my next post.

While in Durango

2010-08-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

As I was trying to ride out of Durango I had the idea to swing by the Herald and have a chat with one of their photographer/reporter, Mr. Steve Fisher. Good times and great, if not slightly goofy, picture!